Saturday, December 15, 2007
... at the recycle center this morning, "... and she was wearing a scrunchie!" Other woman, "A scrunchie? Eeeuuuuw!"
Um, scrunchies are the most gentle thing for your hair. They're inexpensive, easy to put on, hold tight, and don't get snaggled in your hair when you take them out. French barrettes break my hair, they slide down and need constant adjusting, and the catch often snares hair. So what's wrong with scrunchies? I think they're the best thing since sliced bread. Now, if she'd said "an orange and purple scrunchie with her red sweater", I could understand.
Values, I guess.
-------------------------
... passing the TV, frustrated male voice, "... I said kitchen uphill, latrines down!"
Got a chuckle out of that.
.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
1595 Reaction
Saturday, December 15, 2007
I had posted the "Billy's Balloon" clip from entry #1591 on a Mensa humor site. This is the response from another member:
I fail to see the humor of children being beaten up and tortured. I found this video appalling and nothing to laugh about. It's quite sad, actually.
Sheesh.
Am I wrong, or is she whacked? The funny isn't the kids getting beat up, it's the IDEA of vicious balloons!
Well, if she hated that one, this one might send her over the edge:
http://billyblob.com/cartoons/bumble-beeing.html
Update: I've got reactions to "Billy's Balloon" from six more people (people who don't know me personally), all of whom quite seriously think there's something very wrong with me.
.
I had posted the "Billy's Balloon" clip from entry #1591 on a Mensa humor site. This is the response from another member:
I fail to see the humor of children being beaten up and tortured. I found this video appalling and nothing to laugh about. It's quite sad, actually.
Sheesh.
Am I wrong, or is she whacked? The funny isn't the kids getting beat up, it's the IDEA of vicious balloons!
Well, if she hated that one, this one might send her over the edge:
http://billyblob.com/cartoons/bumble-beeing.html
Update: I've got reactions to "Billy's Balloon" from six more people (people who don't know me personally), all of whom quite seriously think there's something very wrong with me.
.
Friday, December 14, 2007
1594 Tired
Friday, December 14, 2007
It usually takes me an hour and a half to clear my entire driveway, including the large area at the top. It took four hours today, and there's still 1/3 of the top uncleared, but I just can't wrestle with the snowthrower any more today. That's bad, because trucks (like my fuel oil delivery) need that room to turn around. I am so sore and tired I can barely move, but I'm going out tonight, so I'm hoping a hot shower will renew me.
That 11 1/2 inches of fluff I had last night had by this afternoon turned into 7 inches of solid igloo block material. It was lumpy and sticky, and kept coating the auger, turning it into a rotating solid drum, turning the machine into a plow instead of a thrower. I had to stop every 50 feet and poke and pry with a piece of tree branch to clear the auger.
Things I learned today:
. Don't take off snowmobile gloves if your hands sweated in them. The lining will come out with your hands, and you won't get them back on.
. If last winter was so mild you used the snowthrower only once or twice and therefore skipped the servicing this year, you still better check the tire pressure! A low tire makes it very hard to steer the 6-ton (I swear!) beast, forget steer, it makes it hard to keep it going straight!, and if the tire comes off the rim (thank all the fates it didn't) you'll be in big trouble, because the freakin' thing is too heavy to move except under its own power.
We're getting more snow tomorrow night and into Sunday.
To do tomorrow - put air in the tire. Spray the auger with Pam.
It usually takes me an hour and a half to clear my entire driveway, including the large area at the top. It took four hours today, and there's still 1/3 of the top uncleared, but I just can't wrestle with the snowthrower any more today. That's bad, because trucks (like my fuel oil delivery) need that room to turn around. I am so sore and tired I can barely move, but I'm going out tonight, so I'm hoping a hot shower will renew me.
That 11 1/2 inches of fluff I had last night had by this afternoon turned into 7 inches of solid igloo block material. It was lumpy and sticky, and kept coating the auger, turning it into a rotating solid drum, turning the machine into a plow instead of a thrower. I had to stop every 50 feet and poke and pry with a piece of tree branch to clear the auger.
Things I learned today:
. Don't take off snowmobile gloves if your hands sweated in them. The lining will come out with your hands, and you won't get them back on.
. If last winter was so mild you used the snowthrower only once or twice and therefore skipped the servicing this year, you still better check the tire pressure! A low tire makes it very hard to steer the 6-ton (I swear!) beast, forget steer, it makes it hard to keep it going straight!, and if the tire comes off the rim (thank all the fates it didn't) you'll be in big trouble, because the freakin' thing is too heavy to move except under its own power.
We're getting more snow tomorrow night and into Sunday.
To do tomorrow - put air in the tire. Spray the auger with Pam.
1593 A Weighty Disadvantage
I've discovered a disadvantage to having lost weight (in addition to having to get all my rings resized). My boots are no longer so tight around the calves, and SNOW GETS IN!
Yucko.
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Yucko.
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1592 Paranoia
Friday, December 14, 2007
Paranoia #1: I have two friends who have advised me to delete the links to mid-eastern blogs in my sidebar, on the grounds that they might attract unwanted (as in government) attention. To which I respond, ""Snork!" I like to hear opinions other than those I'm spoon-fed.
Paranoia #2: I have other friends who refuse to believe that some of the bloggers I read are really in the mid-east, let alone the teen and her mother I follow in Iraq. They believe they are made up stories. I figure "Who cares? They're interesting." (And I do believe the mother and daughter.)
Something else interesting is that I have a regular reader (never commenter) at Andrews AFB in Maryland. Andrews is one of those very secret places, sorta like Area 51, but real. Back when I moved this blog and went into hiding, I removed all ability to locate the blog through searches. The only way you could find me was to leave a comment at the old location, and I'd send the new URL. For several months, my only readers were people I'd invited. Andrews didn't visit during that time. A few weeks ago, I opened to searches again, and --- ta rah! Andrews is back. They visit after every post. Now how did they find me again, if not by searches for keywords? Paranoia #1 justified?
Now, take a look at the comment on entry 1590. The commenter's profile says he's in Palestine, and his blog (which is humorous, and unintentionally cute in its naivety) claims that he's a freedom fighter living in caves (note that the underground sermon is in a room with windows). But my tracker says his ISP is in Brooklyn, 70.23.202, Verizon Internet Services, Windows XP, Internet Explorer 6.0, 1024 x 768 resolution, and his local time is the same as mine. Paranoia #2 justified.
Sigh.
Come on, Andrews - leave a comment! Or at least get together with that guy in Brooklyn who dreams of bombs. You folks might have something to talk about.
(Oops. Now I'm paranoid. I may have just pissed off some guy who likes bombs.)
.
Paranoia #1: I have two friends who have advised me to delete the links to mid-eastern blogs in my sidebar, on the grounds that they might attract unwanted (as in government) attention. To which I respond, ""Snork!" I like to hear opinions other than those I'm spoon-fed.
Paranoia #2: I have other friends who refuse to believe that some of the bloggers I read are really in the mid-east, let alone the teen and her mother I follow in Iraq. They believe they are made up stories. I figure "Who cares? They're interesting." (And I do believe the mother and daughter.)
Something else interesting is that I have a regular reader (never commenter) at Andrews AFB in Maryland. Andrews is one of those very secret places, sorta like Area 51, but real. Back when I moved this blog and went into hiding, I removed all ability to locate the blog through searches. The only way you could find me was to leave a comment at the old location, and I'd send the new URL. For several months, my only readers were people I'd invited. Andrews didn't visit during that time. A few weeks ago, I opened to searches again, and --- ta rah! Andrews is back. They visit after every post. Now how did they find me again, if not by searches for keywords? Paranoia #1 justified?
Now, take a look at the comment on entry 1590. The commenter's profile says he's in Palestine, and his blog (which is humorous, and unintentionally cute in its naivety) claims that he's a freedom fighter living in caves (note that the underground sermon is in a room with windows). But my tracker says his ISP is in Brooklyn, 70.23.202, Verizon Internet Services, Windows XP, Internet Explorer 6.0, 1024 x 768 resolution, and his local time is the same as mine. Paranoia #2 justified.
Sigh.
Come on, Andrews - leave a comment! Or at least get together with that guy in Brooklyn who dreams of bombs. You folks might have something to talk about.
(Oops. Now I'm paranoid. I may have just pissed off some guy who likes bombs.)
.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
1591 Some Sick Fun
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Billy's Balloon
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fpc5vgi9zbM]
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Billy's Balloon
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fpc5vgi9zbM]
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1590 It's snowing
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Snow. We've got three inches in the past two hours, and we've got eight more hours predicted. Weatherman says up to seven inches, but lately I've been getting more inches than expected in everything else, so why not here, too....
Naturally, "get gas for the snowthrower" has been on the to-do list for two weeks, but I kept forgetting to take the container when I left the house, so, no gas. I moved the car to the bottom of the driveway so I can get out.
Hibernation day.
Update: 5 pm. 8 inches. More coming.
Update: 8 pm. 11 inches. Looks like it's stopping. More expected Saturday. No thaw between now and then.
.
Snow. We've got three inches in the past two hours, and we've got eight more hours predicted. Weatherman says up to seven inches, but lately I've been getting more inches than expected in everything else, so why not here, too....
Naturally, "get gas for the snowthrower" has been on the to-do list for two weeks, but I kept forgetting to take the container when I left the house, so, no gas. I moved the car to the bottom of the driveway so I can get out.
Hibernation day.
Update: 5 pm. 8 inches. More coming.
Update: 8 pm. 11 inches. Looks like it's stopping. More expected Saturday. No thaw between now and then.
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Wednesday, December 12, 2007
1589 Forgotten Versed
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Lunch today with a friend, at the fancy-schmanciest local inn. He jokingly referred to it as "the office Christmas party". It was sort of sad - the waitress forgot my soup, when it finally arrived it was cold, and the meat in my entree was dry. My friend is circumstantially celibate and when he's sober he claims he's perfectly happy with the state of things, but when he's had a few drinks he confesses that he wants every woman in the village. I want to find him a lady. He deserves a lady. He'd like me to volunteer, but that just isn't going to happen. I don't care how many millions he's got tucked away. On the other hand, if I do find him a lady, I will be jealous of her. He's a good guy and will treat her well.
------------------------------
Another blogger had mentioned problems with Versed. It rang a tiny bell in my head, and I've spent much of the late afternoon researching Versed. It's a sedative, administered "to help you relax" during various medical procedures, either with or without general or local anesthetics.
For most people, it causes amnesia for the period from a few minutes after you get it until it wears off. However, it doesn't knock you out. You are still "conscious" and can respond to questions and commands. It also has no effect on your experience of pain. You just don't remember the pain, or, for that matter, anything else that happened.
Some people think it's wonderful. They get "something to relax" them, and then wake up in the recovery room. I doesn't bother them that they had expected to be aware during the procedure. (They probably WERE, but they just don't remember it.)
Some people have had very bad experiences with it. The amnesia lasts much longer than it should, or they get depressed or paranoid for a long time afterward.
Now, here's why my bell went off. I have been very worried about my memory lately. I was looking at a photograph in the recent issue of the local Mensa newsletter, a picture of me and another person at the gathering in Chicago six weeks ago. It is a very posed photo - not a candid shot. But I have absolutely no memory of that picture having been taken. I did her hair in the style in the photo, then I went to a talk, and she left shortly thereafter. I can't figure out when there was even opportunity for the photo.
Last month Roman gave me the coupons for the third Thursday dinner, and a week later, when it turned out I would not be able to attend the dinner, he told me to give them to John. I denied that he had given me the coupons. He insisted he had, even told me when and where. I remembered being there, but did not recall the coupons. I looked in my purse. They were there. I said to him that I was worried about my memory lately, and he said he's noticed, too, and is also worried.
Things like that keep happening.
Just today I found a note in my purse, a list of things that have no meaning to me, in someone else's handwriting. I don't know whose. I vaguely remember having given someone my notepad to write on, but I don't remember who, when, or where, let alone why, or what if anything I'm supposed to do with it. I find a lot of mysterious notes in my purse.
I keep finding "lost" objects in the house in perfectly logical places, but I have no recollection of having put them there, and I'm the only person in this house - ever.
I've been thinking about my memory lapses, an attempt to define what kinds of things I forget. One thing they all have in common is briefness. If some interaction between me and another person or an object takes less than, say, six seconds, I may not retain the memory. It just plain never happened. It's a completely blank hole in my experience.
It seems to be getting worse, or maybe I'm just noticing it more.
Now, here's today's realization: The memory problems date from the endoscopic procedure of two years ago. The one where they told me I would be conscious during the procedure, but where I remember nothing from the "here's something to relax you" to the "all done!" Whadaya wanna bet they gave me Versed.
Most of the long-term adverse reactions I've been reading about involve lost of memories from BEFORE the Versed. Chunks of their lives missing. Nobody (so far as I have read) mentions loss of the ability to form memories of events occurring afterward. Perhaps it's an aftereffect others have experienced, but no one has made the connection. Proving a connection would be very difficult.
I am annoyed that when I was told I would be given "something to relax" me, and that I would be conscious during the procedure, no one mentioned that I would not remember the procedure. That's not my definition of "conscious". I do NOT believe that I was properly informed, and do not therefore feel that I gave informed consent.
I suspect the medical community loves Versed. It makes things so easy. They can do just about anything, have your (sort of) cooperation during the procedure, but they don't have to be particularly gentle or respectful, because you won't remember anything anyway, so you're not likely to complain. Or sue. So I suspect there isn't a lot of incentive on their part to question residual effects.
Scary.
What now? Will my memory lapses get better, or worse?
.
Lunch today with a friend, at the fancy-schmanciest local inn. He jokingly referred to it as "the office Christmas party". It was sort of sad - the waitress forgot my soup, when it finally arrived it was cold, and the meat in my entree was dry. My friend is circumstantially celibate and when he's sober he claims he's perfectly happy with the state of things, but when he's had a few drinks he confesses that he wants every woman in the village. I want to find him a lady. He deserves a lady. He'd like me to volunteer, but that just isn't going to happen. I don't care how many millions he's got tucked away. On the other hand, if I do find him a lady, I will be jealous of her. He's a good guy and will treat her well.
------------------------------
Another blogger had mentioned problems with Versed. It rang a tiny bell in my head, and I've spent much of the late afternoon researching Versed. It's a sedative, administered "to help you relax" during various medical procedures, either with or without general or local anesthetics.
For most people, it causes amnesia for the period from a few minutes after you get it until it wears off. However, it doesn't knock you out. You are still "conscious" and can respond to questions and commands. It also has no effect on your experience of pain. You just don't remember the pain, or, for that matter, anything else that happened.
Some people think it's wonderful. They get "something to relax" them, and then wake up in the recovery room. I doesn't bother them that they had expected to be aware during the procedure. (They probably WERE, but they just don't remember it.)
Some people have had very bad experiences with it. The amnesia lasts much longer than it should, or they get depressed or paranoid for a long time afterward.
Now, here's why my bell went off. I have been very worried about my memory lately. I was looking at a photograph in the recent issue of the local Mensa newsletter, a picture of me and another person at the gathering in Chicago six weeks ago. It is a very posed photo - not a candid shot. But I have absolutely no memory of that picture having been taken. I did her hair in the style in the photo, then I went to a talk, and she left shortly thereafter. I can't figure out when there was even opportunity for the photo.
Last month Roman gave me the coupons for the third Thursday dinner, and a week later, when it turned out I would not be able to attend the dinner, he told me to give them to John. I denied that he had given me the coupons. He insisted he had, even told me when and where. I remembered being there, but did not recall the coupons. I looked in my purse. They were there. I said to him that I was worried about my memory lately, and he said he's noticed, too, and is also worried.
Things like that keep happening.
Just today I found a note in my purse, a list of things that have no meaning to me, in someone else's handwriting. I don't know whose. I vaguely remember having given someone my notepad to write on, but I don't remember who, when, or where, let alone why, or what if anything I'm supposed to do with it. I find a lot of mysterious notes in my purse.
I keep finding "lost" objects in the house in perfectly logical places, but I have no recollection of having put them there, and I'm the only person in this house - ever.
I've been thinking about my memory lapses, an attempt to define what kinds of things I forget. One thing they all have in common is briefness. If some interaction between me and another person or an object takes less than, say, six seconds, I may not retain the memory. It just plain never happened. It's a completely blank hole in my experience.
It seems to be getting worse, or maybe I'm just noticing it more.
Now, here's today's realization: The memory problems date from the endoscopic procedure of two years ago. The one where they told me I would be conscious during the procedure, but where I remember nothing from the "here's something to relax you" to the "all done!" Whadaya wanna bet they gave me Versed.
Most of the long-term adverse reactions I've been reading about involve lost of memories from BEFORE the Versed. Chunks of their lives missing. Nobody (so far as I have read) mentions loss of the ability to form memories of events occurring afterward. Perhaps it's an aftereffect others have experienced, but no one has made the connection. Proving a connection would be very difficult.
I am annoyed that when I was told I would be given "something to relax" me, and that I would be conscious during the procedure, no one mentioned that I would not remember the procedure. That's not my definition of "conscious". I do NOT believe that I was properly informed, and do not therefore feel that I gave informed consent.
I suspect the medical community loves Versed. It makes things so easy. They can do just about anything, have your (sort of) cooperation during the procedure, but they don't have to be particularly gentle or respectful, because you won't remember anything anyway, so you're not likely to complain. Or sue. So I suspect there isn't a lot of incentive on their part to question residual effects.
Scary.
What now? Will my memory lapses get better, or worse?
.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
1588 Warm!
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
I had ordered online several bottles of a special shampoo. They arrived today. The box was stuffed with newspaper, and the bottles were wrapped in newspaper - which happened to be the real estate section of a Birmingham, Alabama, paper.
I was smoothing and flattening the pages to put into the recycle bags, and of course I read them.
OMG! Beautiful houses, half again the size of mine, for half the price! I could take a huge "loss" on this house, and STILL upgrade.
And it's WARM there!
What's the deal? Does no one want to move to Birmingham? What's wrong with Birmingham?
Update: Ok. I have just been told it's the most backward, racist, place in the country. Mensa's national gathering was there this past summer, and was boycotted by many members because of that. I forgot that's where it was.
.
I had ordered online several bottles of a special shampoo. They arrived today. The box was stuffed with newspaper, and the bottles were wrapped in newspaper - which happened to be the real estate section of a Birmingham, Alabama, paper.
I was smoothing and flattening the pages to put into the recycle bags, and of course I read them.
OMG! Beautiful houses, half again the size of mine, for half the price! I could take a huge "loss" on this house, and STILL upgrade.
And it's WARM there!
What's the deal? Does no one want to move to Birmingham? What's wrong with Birmingham?
Update: Ok. I have just been told it's the most backward, racist, place in the country. Mensa's national gathering was there this past summer, and was boycotted by many members because of that. I forgot that's where it was.
.
1587 Ice Hint
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Putting salt on the walks and driveway can be bad for the nearby grass and flower beds. Try using fertilizer instead. It will melt the ice almost as well without hurting the plants. An overdose of either salt or fertilizer isn't good for the groundwater or city drains, but if it's going to happen anyway, fertilizer is slightly less harmful.
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Putting salt on the walks and driveway can be bad for the nearby grass and flower beds. Try using fertilizer instead. It will melt the ice almost as well without hurting the plants. An overdose of either salt or fertilizer isn't good for the groundwater or city drains, but if it's going to happen anyway, fertilizer is slightly less harmful.
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Monday, December 10, 2007
1586 The Usual Monday
Monday, December 10, 2007
I managed to spend $60 in the grocery store today, and I don't know how! I bought instant coffee, vanilla creamer, a bag of salad leaves, two bottles of dressing, two week's worth of canned and dry cat food, and two pints of ice cream. I don't understand.
A portion of the afternoon/early evening was spent in the pub with Piper and "the guys". It's becoming more and more comfortable there. Fun conversations. Free drinks. Mild flirtations. I could develop a habit.
I recently reopened this journal to searches. The search args that got people here in the past few days are:
human tendency for rebellion
tooky rearrange
1566 thanksgiving
link brightcove services player bcpid1329217643
penis filled its silken confines
narrowboat adventure
"cleartel"
house of mirth
best place to touch a woman
airwick hacking (there were several of these, from different countries!)
mertz's apothecary
silken touch
max gobrial
reporter silk madly
Gotta wonder sometimes what they're actually looking for. Whatever it is, except for the airwick thing, I ain't got it, and that should be obvious from the search hit blurb. Except the "1566 thanksgiving" one - that's the exact title of my post, but I can't imagine what would have someone searching for it by name. Very strange.
.
I managed to spend $60 in the grocery store today, and I don't know how! I bought instant coffee, vanilla creamer, a bag of salad leaves, two bottles of dressing, two week's worth of canned and dry cat food, and two pints of ice cream. I don't understand.
A portion of the afternoon/early evening was spent in the pub with Piper and "the guys". It's becoming more and more comfortable there. Fun conversations. Free drinks. Mild flirtations. I could develop a habit.
I recently reopened this journal to searches. The search args that got people here in the past few days are:
human tendency for rebellion
tooky rearrange
1566 thanksgiving
link brightcove services player bcpid1329217643
penis filled its silken confines
narrowboat adventure
"cleartel"
house of mirth
best place to touch a woman
airwick hacking (there were several of these, from different countries!)
mertz's apothecary
silken touch
max gobrial
reporter silk madly
Gotta wonder sometimes what they're actually looking for. Whatever it is, except for the airwick thing, I ain't got it, and that should be obvious from the search hit blurb. Except the "1566 thanksgiving" one - that's the exact title of my post, but I can't imagine what would have someone searching for it by name. Very strange.
.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
1585 Slip-sliding Away
Sunday, December 9, 2007
I went to a meeting tonight, to work on the by-laws. We had freezing rain, but the main roads weren't too bad at all. I had no trouble coming home until I got to my driveway.
I stopped at the end of the driveway to get the newspaper out of the tube, then backed up slightly to turn into the drive. I got about a quarter of the way up when the car stopped moving altogether. The wheels were still turning, spinning on ice, but the car wasn't going anywhere.
I stopped for a moment to think about it. What I should have done was back down the street a little to get a running start. No problem. I can back down and try again. That's when I realized I was moving. Backward. With the brakes on hard.
Ack!
I didn't slide over the bank and get rolled and deaded, and I did eventually make it up the hill. I hate winter. I hate my driveway. I don't know who laid it out with that curve next to a bank at the end. I'd love to redo it. There's no reason why it couldn't have gone straight down through the bank. A little dynamite and a jackhammer or two could solve so many problems....
.
I went to a meeting tonight, to work on the by-laws. We had freezing rain, but the main roads weren't too bad at all. I had no trouble coming home until I got to my driveway.
I stopped at the end of the driveway to get the newspaper out of the tube, then backed up slightly to turn into the drive. I got about a quarter of the way up when the car stopped moving altogether. The wheels were still turning, spinning on ice, but the car wasn't going anywhere.
I stopped for a moment to think about it. What I should have done was back down the street a little to get a running start. No problem. I can back down and try again. That's when I realized I was moving. Backward. With the brakes on hard.
Ack!
I didn't slide over the bank and get rolled and deaded, and I did eventually make it up the hill. I hate winter. I hate my driveway. I don't know who laid it out with that curve next to a bank at the end. I'd love to redo it. There's no reason why it couldn't have gone straight down through the bank. A little dynamite and a jackhammer or two could solve so many problems....
.
1584 Kitty Update
Sunday, December 9, 2007
I mentioned a few posts back that Jasper likes to empty grocery bags, and had progressed to emptying kitchen cabinets.
His water dish is one of those water-cooler-like units, with the inverted jug that keeps a bowl filled. Two days ago he emptied the entire jug onto the laundry room floor, one paw-splash at a time. (Splash splash splash glurk glurk glurk splash splash glurk glurk ....)
Today I walked into a bathroom and discovered him tail-up in the toilet, splashing away, attempting to empty it onto the floor I suppose.
The kid needs more toys.
----------------------------
I didn't get much sleep last night. Somewhere in the house, something beeped every few minutes.
It wasn't loud enough to be a smoke or CO detector, but it was loud enough, and worrisome enough, to keep me awake. My right ear is dulled by old rifle range stupidities, so it's difficult for me to locate small sounds when they're intermittent. It sounded at first like it was in my bedroom.
I tried to sleep through it, but it worried and frustrated me too much.
I finally pinned the sound to the new cell phone, which was in my purse, at the other end of the house. I had left it on, and one of the new functions is that in the wee hours of the morning, it attempts to back up the directory. It was having some kind of difficulty, and was attempting to draw my attention to an error message.
Thanks, Verizon. If you're going to do something that might result in beeping complaints, maybe you should do it at a more reasonable hour? (Yeah, I checked. I don't think I can change the back up time.)
-----------------------------
For anyone with SiteMeter, I'm coming to you from Phoenix, Arizona, today.
.
I mentioned a few posts back that Jasper likes to empty grocery bags, and had progressed to emptying kitchen cabinets.
His water dish is one of those water-cooler-like units, with the inverted jug that keeps a bowl filled. Two days ago he emptied the entire jug onto the laundry room floor, one paw-splash at a time. (Splash splash splash glurk glurk glurk splash splash glurk glurk ....)
Today I walked into a bathroom and discovered him tail-up in the toilet, splashing away, attempting to empty it onto the floor I suppose.
The kid needs more toys.
----------------------------
I didn't get much sleep last night. Somewhere in the house, something beeped every few minutes.
It wasn't loud enough to be a smoke or CO detector, but it was loud enough, and worrisome enough, to keep me awake. My right ear is dulled by old rifle range stupidities, so it's difficult for me to locate small sounds when they're intermittent. It sounded at first like it was in my bedroom.
I tried to sleep through it, but it worried and frustrated me too much.
I finally pinned the sound to the new cell phone, which was in my purse, at the other end of the house. I had left it on, and one of the new functions is that in the wee hours of the morning, it attempts to back up the directory. It was having some kind of difficulty, and was attempting to draw my attention to an error message.
Thanks, Verizon. If you're going to do something that might result in beeping complaints, maybe you should do it at a more reasonable hour? (Yeah, I checked. I don't think I can change the back up time.)
-----------------------------
For anyone with SiteMeter, I'm coming to you from Phoenix, Arizona, today.
.
1583 TooRealEstate
Sunday, December 9, 2007
There's a real estate program on Sunday mornings, right after one of the news interview shows, where they take you on tours of some of the houses for sale in the Albany/Schnectady area. I am shocked by the difference in prices between here and there. I could sell my house here and buy two larger nicer houses there!
Anyway, between the house tours, they show pictures of the fronts of other more ordinary houses, with the address, realtor, and price.
One of those houses today was a standard two-story over-under duplex, the kind you see in all eastern cities. It had a large glass panel next to the front door. And standing inside that glass panel was a very large completely naked woman.
She was quite clear. I'm surprised no one else noticed before they put the photo up. Even if it's an optical illusion, you'd think someone would have said whoa.
.
There's a real estate program on Sunday mornings, right after one of the news interview shows, where they take you on tours of some of the houses for sale in the Albany/Schnectady area. I am shocked by the difference in prices between here and there. I could sell my house here and buy two larger nicer houses there!
Anyway, between the house tours, they show pictures of the fronts of other more ordinary houses, with the address, realtor, and price.
One of those houses today was a standard two-story over-under duplex, the kind you see in all eastern cities. It had a large glass panel next to the front door. And standing inside that glass panel was a very large completely naked woman.
She was quite clear. I'm surprised no one else noticed before they put the photo up. Even if it's an optical illusion, you'd think someone would have said whoa.
.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
1582 Burn
Saturday, December 8, 2007
I planned to clean up the driveway today, in preparation for clearing snow when it happens. Yesterday we got about a half inch, which reminded me that ignoring the possibility of snow is not helpful.
Today it's 43 degrees, not too cold, sunny. There are several heaps of brush on the broad area at the top of the drive, left from when I cut out the blackberries and weeded the "flower bed" (snork), and they'll have to be moved so I can run the snowthrower. Moved to where? I don't know. That's why they're still there. I guess I'm going to have to delegate another burn pile area.
Well, that was the plan.
I was cooking grits in the microwave this morning. The combination microwave and convection oven is installed in a cubby that hangs under the upper kitchen cabinets. Jay and his ex-wife were both tall, and it worked for them, but it's too high for me. I have to stand on a stool to look in.
I didn't stand on the stool this morning to take the bowl of grits out.
It was a shallow bowl, and while it was still above eye level, I guess I tipped it a bit. I spilled boiling water and sticky grits all over my whole left hand. I stared dumbly at it for a moment, then jumped to the sink and ran cold water over it.
It hurt so bad for so long I was afraid I'd really messed myself up, but now it has settled down to just the ends of the first three fingers. The pointer, in fact, is almost normal. Just a little numb. The last joint of the ring finger is still red and alternates between burning and numbness. The last joint and a half of the middle finger is bright red, really nasty looking and it hurts a lot, but with any luck there won't be a blister.
This is an odd thing about my body - it doesn't overreact to burns. I've had things happen that should have resulted in swelling and blistering and weeping, but the worst that ever happens is that the burned area hardens, sometimes pretty deeply, and eventually flakes off, leaving a whiter patch of skin.
Anyway, that's my excuse for not getting the driveway cleared, and I'm sticking to it.
.
I planned to clean up the driveway today, in preparation for clearing snow when it happens. Yesterday we got about a half inch, which reminded me that ignoring the possibility of snow is not helpful.
Today it's 43 degrees, not too cold, sunny. There are several heaps of brush on the broad area at the top of the drive, left from when I cut out the blackberries and weeded the "flower bed" (snork), and they'll have to be moved so I can run the snowthrower. Moved to where? I don't know. That's why they're still there. I guess I'm going to have to delegate another burn pile area.
Well, that was the plan.
I was cooking grits in the microwave this morning. The combination microwave and convection oven is installed in a cubby that hangs under the upper kitchen cabinets. Jay and his ex-wife were both tall, and it worked for them, but it's too high for me. I have to stand on a stool to look in.
I didn't stand on the stool this morning to take the bowl of grits out.
It was a shallow bowl, and while it was still above eye level, I guess I tipped it a bit. I spilled boiling water and sticky grits all over my whole left hand. I stared dumbly at it for a moment, then jumped to the sink and ran cold water over it.
It hurt so bad for so long I was afraid I'd really messed myself up, but now it has settled down to just the ends of the first three fingers. The pointer, in fact, is almost normal. Just a little numb. The last joint of the ring finger is still red and alternates between burning and numbness. The last joint and a half of the middle finger is bright red, really nasty looking and it hurts a lot, but with any luck there won't be a blister.
This is an odd thing about my body - it doesn't overreact to burns. I've had things happen that should have resulted in swelling and blistering and weeping, but the worst that ever happens is that the burned area hardens, sometimes pretty deeply, and eventually flakes off, leaving a whiter patch of skin.
Anyway, that's my excuse for not getting the driveway cleared, and I'm sticking to it.
.
Friday, December 07, 2007
1581 Accent?
Friday, December 7, 2007
One of the things I played with on the new phone last night was "acclimating" it to my voice, so I can do hands-free dialing in the car. The phone would give me a series of letters or numbers that I had to repeat, and then it would repeat them back to me, and ask if it got them right.
ONE of us has a slight ("slat") southern accent! I think it's me. I pronounce "five" as "fav", and "I" as "Ah". And there's a slight tendency toward "Wa" on "Y". I never noticed that before.
.
One of the things I played with on the new phone last night was "acclimating" it to my voice, so I can do hands-free dialing in the car. The phone would give me a series of letters or numbers that I had to repeat, and then it would repeat them back to me, and ask if it got them right.
ONE of us has a slight ("slat") southern accent! I think it's me. I pronounce "five" as "fav", and "I" as "Ah". And there's a slight tendency toward "Wa" on "Y". I never noticed that before.
.
1580 Jasper, CASA, Phone
Friday, December 7, 2007
I may have to put childproof latches on all the cabinet doors. Jasper is the first kitty I've ever had who gets into cabinets. He's also the most active, most curious kitty I've ever had, and I've had cats all my life.
Well, there was Smokey - 1958 to 1975. She used to open the back door to let the dog in and out, and if she got hungry, she'd open the refrigerator and sit on a shelf. You'd open the door and find her in there sampling leftovers. But she never got into cabinets.
--------------------------------
I'm still getting all kinds of information from CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates). Back when I went to the volunteer fair at the mall, and signed up for the stuff I'm involved in now, CASA was one of the things that most interested me. Volunteers are trained, and then assigned by a family court judge to advocate for a child (or siblings) in a bad home situation.
I know a lot of the local judges and lawyers, from having done court mediation, and from having worked (as a volunteer) in a family law office. And I like kids and get along well with them, perhaps because of my size (they trust me) and because I don't preach to them. They tell me I'm "real".
(By the way, I don't agree with the statement on their site, that CASA is "the only volunteer organization that empowers everyday citizens as appointed members of the court." We volunteer mediators were also officers of the court, with all the reporting responsibilities attendant on that office.)
I had discussed it with several of my friends, and they all strongly advised me not to do it. Unfortunately, if a child is in no imminent physical danger, they often have to go back to their parents, even if they are in emotional or psychological danger, because of the rights of the parents, and this can be very difficult to accept. My friends all advised me that I'd get too emotionally involved.
My friends explained that I know I couldn't possibly work at an animal shelter, I'd end up taking home every animal no one else wanted, and CASA could be worse. I'd end up in jail for kidnapping children and hiding them from the court. A basement full of kids.
I think my friends are right. If not actual kidnapping, there might be a lot of stress and sleepness nights.
So when CASA kept trying to schedule me for the training, I wrote them a letter explaining that I had decided it was not a good match for me, and why, and "please take me off the list".
They're still sending me information, and I can't open the envelopes, because every time I do, I want to sign up again.
-------------------------------------
I went to bed early last night, about midnight, and spent the next two and a half hours propped on my elbows reading the new cell phone's instruction book and trying out all the phone's functions. I can read my email on my cell phone! But I don't know if that costs extra. The next bill will be interesting.
.
I may have to put childproof latches on all the cabinet doors. Jasper is the first kitty I've ever had who gets into cabinets. He's also the most active, most curious kitty I've ever had, and I've had cats all my life.
Well, there was Smokey - 1958 to 1975. She used to open the back door to let the dog in and out, and if she got hungry, she'd open the refrigerator and sit on a shelf. You'd open the door and find her in there sampling leftovers. But she never got into cabinets.
--------------------------------
I'm still getting all kinds of information from CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates). Back when I went to the volunteer fair at the mall, and signed up for the stuff I'm involved in now, CASA was one of the things that most interested me. Volunteers are trained, and then assigned by a family court judge to advocate for a child (or siblings) in a bad home situation.
I know a lot of the local judges and lawyers, from having done court mediation, and from having worked (as a volunteer) in a family law office. And I like kids and get along well with them, perhaps because of my size (they trust me) and because I don't preach to them. They tell me I'm "real".
(By the way, I don't agree with the statement on their site, that CASA is "the only volunteer organization that empowers everyday citizens as appointed members of the court." We volunteer mediators were also officers of the court, with all the reporting responsibilities attendant on that office.)
I had discussed it with several of my friends, and they all strongly advised me not to do it. Unfortunately, if a child is in no imminent physical danger, they often have to go back to their parents, even if they are in emotional or psychological danger, because of the rights of the parents, and this can be very difficult to accept. My friends all advised me that I'd get too emotionally involved.
My friends explained that I know I couldn't possibly work at an animal shelter, I'd end up taking home every animal no one else wanted, and CASA could be worse. I'd end up in jail for kidnapping children and hiding them from the court. A basement full of kids.
I think my friends are right. If not actual kidnapping, there might be a lot of stress and sleepness nights.
So when CASA kept trying to schedule me for the training, I wrote them a letter explaining that I had decided it was not a good match for me, and why, and "please take me off the list".
They're still sending me information, and I can't open the envelopes, because every time I do, I want to sign up again.
-------------------------------------
I went to bed early last night, about midnight, and spent the next two and a half hours propped on my elbows reading the new cell phone's instruction book and trying out all the phone's functions. I can read my email on my cell phone! But I don't know if that costs extra. The next bill will be interesting.
.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
1578 Traffic
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
I haven't the faintest idea what has happened to today. It's 8:15 pm, I'm already tired, and I have done NOTHING all day. I think maybe it has something to do with the weather. It's almost 10 degrees below freezing outside, and although my house is reasonably tight, I feel cold. The thermostat says it's 74 in here. How can I be cold? I don't understand.
Speaking of not understanding, something is going on with other drivers lately that I don't understand.
I mentioned to a friend a few days ago that I've noticed lately that if I am on a multi-lane highway, and decide to change lanes, and there's a decent space in the lane I want to move into, and traffic in both lanes seems to be maintaining position (ideal for changing lanes), the very instant that I put my signal on to indicate the lane change, the car behind me in the target lane speeds up!, closing up the space.
Why? We could go on in the same positions for miles, but the minute I want to move into that lane, the other person speeds up. Is it a game? Is it "Oh no you don't - you can't get in front of me!" Or maybe they speed up when they see the signal because they hope I'll turn into them and buy them a new car? I don't understand.
So anyway, after I had mentioned it, my friend started noticing it too. So it's not just my perception, and not just people reacting to my little car. It really is happening a lot more.
Driving to dinner last night (1.5 hour drive), I noticed other strangenesses. I was heading down route 9w, during rush hour. People weren't paying attention to the speed limit, but not in the way one would expect. There's a section north of Highland with two south-bound lanes. The speed limit is 55, but there were two people, one in each lane, about two car-lengths apart, who were doing 45. Everyone behind them who wanted to do 55 had to pass one on the right, then squeeze back to the left to get past the second. And the guy potting along in the left lane never seemed to notice.
So when we finally got past them, and the long line of cars was doing 55, we came to a car on the right that had been pulled over by the police, nothing interesting, just an ordinary stop with plenty of room, and amazingly, everyone slowed down to 45, and then stayed at 45! Wha...? I don't understand. I didn't understand slowing down, and I don't understand staying slow.
From Highland south, the speed limit is mostly 55, with a few 40 or 45 patches through hamlets, and one 30 mph section where the village cop's radar gun is on hair-trigger. We stayed at 45 the entire way to Newburgh, even through the 30 mph section. I don't understand.
(Yeah, I did 45 through the 30, too, but it was because there was a long line of cars ahead of and behind me, and if I'd slowed down, twenty cars would have climbed into my trunk.)
Another thing I noticed was that when we stopped at a traffic light, and the line of stopped cars extended to cross another intersection, people blithely blocked the intersection, so that oncoming cars could not make a left turn into the side road. That stopped traffic on the other side, too. How stupid is that? Do they really not notice? Is everyone completely self-absorbed?
What's going on? Do we have a new generation of drivers who've never taken driver ed? My friend, back in the first example, has noticed the speed-up-at-lane-change problem in several states, so it's not a local thing.
Well, I made it to the dinner later than I meant, but still in time. I had to stop in Newburgh to pick up a friend, and I called her as I entered Newburgh and told her to go to the end of her driveway, "and hold your purse strap out so my side mirror can hook it as I pass, and then hang on tight!"
There were 12 of us at dinner, and I did manage to sit in the middle of the table, as I wanted. It was a pretty good group. Roman gave me a birthday gift of Israeli body lotion after dinner, and a CD of photos from his trip. I hadn't realized that although we'd talked on the phone several times since late October and his trip, I hadn't seen him since mid-October. How odd.
Now we have to get together sometime so he can narrate the photos.
.
I haven't the faintest idea what has happened to today. It's 8:15 pm, I'm already tired, and I have done NOTHING all day. I think maybe it has something to do with the weather. It's almost 10 degrees below freezing outside, and although my house is reasonably tight, I feel cold. The thermostat says it's 74 in here. How can I be cold? I don't understand.
Speaking of not understanding, something is going on with other drivers lately that I don't understand.
I mentioned to a friend a few days ago that I've noticed lately that if I am on a multi-lane highway, and decide to change lanes, and there's a decent space in the lane I want to move into, and traffic in both lanes seems to be maintaining position (ideal for changing lanes), the very instant that I put my signal on to indicate the lane change, the car behind me in the target lane speeds up!, closing up the space.
Why? We could go on in the same positions for miles, but the minute I want to move into that lane, the other person speeds up. Is it a game? Is it "Oh no you don't - you can't get in front of me!" Or maybe they speed up when they see the signal because they hope I'll turn into them and buy them a new car? I don't understand.
So anyway, after I had mentioned it, my friend started noticing it too. So it's not just my perception, and not just people reacting to my little car. It really is happening a lot more.
Driving to dinner last night (1.5 hour drive), I noticed other strangenesses. I was heading down route 9w, during rush hour. People weren't paying attention to the speed limit, but not in the way one would expect. There's a section north of Highland with two south-bound lanes. The speed limit is 55, but there were two people, one in each lane, about two car-lengths apart, who were doing 45. Everyone behind them who wanted to do 55 had to pass one on the right, then squeeze back to the left to get past the second. And the guy potting along in the left lane never seemed to notice.
So when we finally got past them, and the long line of cars was doing 55, we came to a car on the right that had been pulled over by the police, nothing interesting, just an ordinary stop with plenty of room, and amazingly, everyone slowed down to 45, and then stayed at 45! Wha...? I don't understand. I didn't understand slowing down, and I don't understand staying slow.
From Highland south, the speed limit is mostly 55, with a few 40 or 45 patches through hamlets, and one 30 mph section where the village cop's radar gun is on hair-trigger. We stayed at 45 the entire way to Newburgh, even through the 30 mph section. I don't understand.
(Yeah, I did 45 through the 30, too, but it was because there was a long line of cars ahead of and behind me, and if I'd slowed down, twenty cars would have climbed into my trunk.)
Another thing I noticed was that when we stopped at a traffic light, and the line of stopped cars extended to cross another intersection, people blithely blocked the intersection, so that oncoming cars could not make a left turn into the side road. That stopped traffic on the other side, too. How stupid is that? Do they really not notice? Is everyone completely self-absorbed?
What's going on? Do we have a new generation of drivers who've never taken driver ed? My friend, back in the first example, has noticed the speed-up-at-lane-change problem in several states, so it's not a local thing.
Well, I made it to the dinner later than I meant, but still in time. I had to stop in Newburgh to pick up a friend, and I called her as I entered Newburgh and told her to go to the end of her driveway, "and hold your purse strap out so my side mirror can hook it as I pass, and then hang on tight!"
There were 12 of us at dinner, and I did manage to sit in the middle of the table, as I wanted. It was a pretty good group. Roman gave me a birthday gift of Israeli body lotion after dinner, and a CD of photos from his trip. I hadn't realized that although we'd talked on the phone several times since late October and his trip, I hadn't seen him since mid-October. How odd.
Now we have to get together sometime so he can narrate the photos.
.
1577 Heartstrings
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
(Photo used with permission.)
This is Eli, the tomcat, and Charlie, the coyote pup that Eli and his human are raising. You will find some beautiful photos and the story at http://dailycoyote.blogspot.com/. Go. Look. Read. Share.
[Later edit - I should say - start at the bottom of Daily Coyote and work UP, so you can see him grow up.]
.
(Photo used with permission.)
This is Eli, the tomcat, and Charlie, the coyote pup that Eli and his human are raising. You will find some beautiful photos and the story at http://dailycoyote.blogspot.com/. Go. Look. Read. Share.
[Later edit - I should say - start at the bottom of Daily Coyote and work UP, so you can see him grow up.]
.
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