3009 Escapes

Saturday, July 3, 2010

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”
-- Plato --

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So, last night the Hairless Hunk was cutting up some downed trees in my yard when Vic arrived to work on the van. I left them to it, and went to dinner and a movie. I didn't get home until very late.

HH called this morning to tell me that Vic fixed the brake line on the driver's side, but then found a leak on the passenger side too. So he'll be returning Tuesday night to replace that one.

Then Vic wants me to re-register it (it's still insured, and has plates on it) and drive it to Captain Vantastic's, where he'll finish the job. I'm not clear on this re-registering business. I let the registration lapse because I couldn't get it inspected. I guess Vic thinks it will pass inspection? And that it will make it to Esopus?

One step at a time. Right now I have to figure out how to avoid being trapped by Vic Tuesday night. I don't think I can just leave again.

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Last night's movie was "City Island". It was really good, funny, I enjoyed it. Trailer here.

One thing I didn't understand was that at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end, a big deal was made about the difference between people born in (on?) City Island (an old fishing village, a piece of New England, in the Bronx), and people who came there from elsewhere. Natives are "clam diggers", and imports are "mussel suckers". It was treated as very important. But the distinction had nothing whatsoever to do with the story.

Perhaps the movie is from a book, and that part was left out.

Watch for it. I recommend it. Men who aren't apes will enjoy it, too.

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Today I went to a demolition derby at the Rhinebeck fairgrounds. I haven't been to a DD in forty years. I used to love them.

Well, I seem to have this problem. Every time I go anywhere new, to a party, on a tour, a hike, a festival, a date, whatever, if I haven't been there before I have a picture in my head of what it will be like, and I am ALWAYS disappointed. Always. I try very hard not to preconceive the experience, but I can't stop me, and reality never meets my expectations.

The old demolition derbies in Pennsylvania were always on a racing oval. It was an actual race (hence "Derby") in one direction around the oval, the drivers tried to put the competition out of commission, and the winner was the last car still moving. It took a while, cars lapped each other, and the track gradually filled with debris, bumpers, fenders, tires, and eventually what was left of the losing cars. Most collisions were either sideways or someone coming up behind another car and hitting it in the rear end. Bumpers, hoods, trunks were not reinforced.

Imagine my disappointment when I arrived and found this (clicking a photo will biggify it):
That's not a track! It's a boxing ring!

And that's pretty much how it went. They had 4 different "events" based on the size and weight of the cars. They'd throw 10 or 12 cars in there, and the drivers mostly just drove backward trying to bash the other cars with their rear ends, aiming mostly for the other guy's motor or tires. They couldn't get up much speed.

Lots of cars lost tires or whole wheels. One valiant little car did a heck of a lot of damage on three wheels - driver's side rear tire was gone. The advantage of four-wheel drive, I guess.

Lining up at the start. The second car from the right has a huge stuffed animal on top.

Getting caught in the middle. Bad place to be.

First and second place winners in this class. The dark car, second place, went through most of the round on three wheels - note that badly tilted front tire.

There were more people in the stands than these photos imply. The largest of the three sets of bleachers had a roof, and therefore shade, and was packed.

See what I mean about them having very little room to move, so no speed? It gets worse when most of the cars are disabled, and you can't get around them. Yeah, that's smoke coming out of the car in front, but it didn't catch fire. Those red things in the back are fire trucks standing by.

And, here's what happens when you go to a demolition derby:
(That's my underarm you're looking at, not what it looks like.)

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Later. Now here's a 1:53 clip of a demolition derby sort of like I remember them: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9A_jwF5lQY

This one's more exciting because it's a figure 8 track. Whoop!

3008 Simon's Cat was based on reality

Thursday, July 1, 2010

“Ignorance: the root of all evil.”
-- Plato --

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Silent movie, ok for work.

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Gknp-8ltmE&feature=player_embedded]

In case you haven't seen it, the cartoon Simon's Cat is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0ffwDYo00Q
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3007 But wait, that's not all....

Thursday, July 1, 2010

“If women are expected to do the same work as men,
we must teach them the same things.”
-- Plato --

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A little excitement on Tuesday, on route 9w in Esopus. A dump truck driver towing a trailer carrying construction equipment (a paver and a Bobcat) missed his turn and decided to make a U-turn. He pulled over to the right shoulder and started the turn (how! Route 9w at that point is not particularly wide. I'd hesitate to try to turn Suzie there!). He didn't notice a truck coming up behind him, and got clobbered broadside.

But wait, that's not all. The truck that hit him was a fuel oil truck, carrying 3,000 gallons of fuel oil. The oil tank ruptured, spewing oil on the road, and the oil caught fire.

But wait, that's not all. Both trucks and the trailer were engulfed in the burning oil (the drivers did get out and away in time) and the heat melted them (I heard the Bobcat became an unrecognizable lump). The fire was so hot it melted the propane gas line under the road. Which proceeded to leak gas.

But wait, that's not all. A warehouse next to the road, the building served by the gas line, caught fire and burned to the ground.

But wait, that's not all. The warehouse stored fireworks (possibly illegal, since private fireworks are illegal in NY), which of course caught fire.

A little excitement.

The Hairless Hunk told me about it yesterday. He works with a volunteer fireman who had been there. Then Vic the mechanic told me about it, too. It was just up the road from Captain Vantastic's shop, and almost across the road from Vic's house.

Local newspaper article here: http://www.dailyfreeman.com/articles/2010/07/01/blotter/doc4c2c1e12f1f6d769584005.txt

Very short video here (turn the sound down):

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H6hxzy5XwUk&feature=player_embedded]
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3006 My fleet

Thursday, July 1, 2010

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”
-- Plato --

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This is my fleet. From the left: flashy Hal, workhorse Fred, plucky Suzie. Of the three, I think Suzie is actually the healthiest and most trustworthy.

After I move, one of them will be sold, and I'm torn as to which. Fred is a wheelchair van, with a dropped floor, electric ramp, and a huge open area in the center which makes him enormously useful for transporting things since you don't have to lift anything into him, but he's not very dependable, rather temperamental about those sensors, and doesn't do well in snow. Suzie doesn't have a lot of space, but she's been very good, very polite. You'd think she'd been raised by nuns. Hal, as we know by now, hates me. Or maybe he was just testing me. Maybe the spanking he got last Friday has straightened him out.
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3005 Busy time

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

"Computers make it easier to do a lot of things,
but most of the things they make it easier to do don't need to be done."
-- Andy Rooney --

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The past four days have been very busy. The Hairless Hunk has been removing everything from the front flower bed, including all roots, and digging down about a foot, leveling, packing, filling with rock, a triple layer of plastic, and a bed of rock dust, ready for the paving stones. I'd been shopping for paving blocks, and discovered that Kingston Block has exactly what I want for less than half of what the garden centers and Home Depot wanted. They'll be delivered in about a week.

I bought several huge plastic pottery-look pots to be set on the paving stones. No more weeding!

The front downspouts feed into PVC pipes underground, that lead to the lower ground on the side of the yard. The pipe wasn't taking the water, and I figured it was full of animal nests, or squirrel caches, or something. The Hunk snaked it, found it clear all the way up to the edge of the house, so he dug it up and found that a joint had come loose. He repaired that, and now the downspouts drain far from the foundation.

Monday morning I spent some time on the phone with my car insurance people. Tuesday morning they sent an adjuster out. Later Tuesday morning my insurance company called and said that the other guy's insurance company had accepted full liability. Then his insurance company called to make an appointment with their adjuster. I said I wanted BMW to do the repairs, and it turns out that BMW in Poughkeepsie is one of their "authorized repair centers", which means that I don't need to get any estimates or anything. I just take the car in, BMW fixes it, and they bill the insurance company directly. No further authorization required. Then almost immediately, Enterprise Rentals called, to set up the rental while Hal is being worked on. The guy's insurance company had called them.

So I drove Hal to BMW Tuesday afternoon (his 7-week birthday) so they could figure out what parts to order. He goes to the spa next Tuesday. Then I stopped by Enterprise to schedule the rental for Tuesday. This time they promised me a small car.

On the way home, I stopped by Hertz to find out what size truck I might want to rent to move larger furniture, and how much it would cost. There were two clerks at the counter, working with two customers, so I waited. By the time the clerks had finished with them, there were several more people behind me. The first clerk turned and went through a door in the back, and didn't return. The second clerk, when she had finished with her customer, also headed for that door, but she said to me, "I'll be right back." Eighteen minutes later, neither clerk had returned. By then, there were at least eight more people behind me. I got pissed and left.

On Monday I had stopped at a print place and got some Mensa letters printed. I am on the Nominating Committee. The way the local Mensa elections work, we need five people for the governing board. If only five people agree to run, then there's no point in balloting, and those five are declared elected. There hasn't been an election in the past twenty years. It looks bad - it looks like the outgoing board simply chooses the next board, so I am absolutely determined to have a real election this year. We need a minimum of six nominees.

My suggestion is to send a "personal" letter to every member of the local group, explaining how the election works (you don't run for a particular office, you just run for the board), what the various duties are, and how to nominate oneself. So I wrote a one-page letter, got it reviewed and approved by the other two members of the nominating committee, Monday I got 200 copies made, ran them through my printer at home to put a return address on the back, folded them, and stuck one of those little circle closure doohickies on the center bottom of each to keep them closed. That took several hours.

Tuesday the membership address labels arrived, and I put them on the letters and took them to the post office to buy stamps, and depending on how long it took to put the stamps on, to mail. But Gail, my favorite PO clerk, explained that because it's one sheet of light paper, the one circle sticker in the middle won't be enough to prevent the machine they go through from catching a corner and mangling them. She recommended a sticker on each corner! Tuesday night, after 4.5 more hours, I had stickers on each corner, as well as in the middle.

Since I had gotten a key made for the van, I called Vic, Captain Vantastic's mechanic, on Monday and made an appointment for him to come and check it out. The van has been sitting in the driveway for the past two+ years. Long story. Anyway, he was to come on Tuesday evening, but the van was full of yellowjackets in every crevice. It was dangerous to even open a door. I wanted to spray them before he touched it. The Hunk said that it was supposed to get down to the 40s overnight Tuesday (he always knows what's going on weather-wise, and he's always right), so I called Vic, and we rescheduled to this evening.

You can't spray yellowjacket nests during the day. It has to be done at night, or in temperatures below 50 F, so that all of them are in the nest, not out foraging, when you spray. Otherwise, you have a cloud of confused and ticked off yellowjackets swarming around the nest for days.

At dark last night, it was still in the 80s, so I set my alarm for 5 am. Sunrise (per Hunk, again) was 5:30, so I'd have enough light to see. At 5:30, the temperature was 49 F, and there was plenty of light. Perfect! The insects were sluggish, I sprayed, and got them all.

Vic came this evening. The Hunk was still here working on the yard. Vic popped the van (the van's name is Fred) hood, put a new battery in, and **DAMN!** Fred started right up! Not only that, but he moved, right out of the three-inch-deep divots the tires had sunk into the driveway. And the tires were down only 2 or 3 pounds. Vic puttered around under the hood, verified that chipmunks had not filled anything important with seeds, nuts, or shells or chewed anything, jacked it up, slid under it, and found a leak in a brake line, and WOW, it really looks like he might actually get it on the road again. Vic says it's not too bad as far as he can tell so far. No idea yet why the "check engine" light had gone on, or why the battery had completely died overnight that long time ago.

Hunk (front) and Vic (rear) poking around in Fred's nose:

The Hunk had to leave, dinner time, but he'd seen how Vic looked at me, I guess. Before he left, he asked if I'd be ok, and said that if I was at all concerned, to call him. It was kind of cute. Vic is a small man, 50 years old. When Captain Vantastic recommended Vic to me, he'd said that Vic was recently divorced and implied that Vic and I would match nicely. He seemed to be playing Cupid. I suspect Capt. V. told Vic I was a small available widow.

By the way, the original plan was that Vic would come and look at Fred, and if he thought there was hope of resuscitation, he'd come back with a flatbed and take Fred to the shop. Now Vic plans to do all the work right here in my driveway. That could get awkward....

When Vic was finished with the van, planning to return Friday evening with some other tools and parts, he sat next to me on the front steps, and looked like he was planning to stay a while. Hmmmm. I was wondering how to send him home without doubling what the van repair was going to cost, when what to my wondering ears appeared but the sound of the Hunk's frontloader coming up the driveway. The cavalry had arrived! In armor!

Vic left a little after that. The Hunk asked if I was ok, and I said yes, that Vic was just flirting a little. The Hunk's response surprised me. He said, "Hey, I've been flirting for two years, and I'm not getting anywhere." My response surprised me. "Vic's divorced. That's a big difference."

I'm going to have to repair that somehow.

I told Vic I have a dinner Friday, so I may not be here, but I'll leave the key in the van. After I got in the house I checked my calendar, and I don't have anything Friday, but I think I will arrange to not be home anyway. I'll tell the Hunk that tomorrow. Might make him feel better. And I'll thank him for playing cavalry. The rescue was in fact much appreciated.
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3004 Starry starry sky

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

There are people who would rather hear and pass on a lie that fits with their own prejudices,
even when they know it's a lie,
than hear a truth that does not fit their beliefs.
I cannot respect those people.
-- Silk --

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This is from Boston,com's latest photo essay, on Afghanistan. It struck me because those of us who live in light-polluted areas don't often see the sky like this, the stars massed. When I lived on Red Rock Mountain, this was my sky.

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3003 Scatological Muse

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

You either sink or swim or you don't.

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I've known many men intimately enough to be familiar with their bathroom habits.

It seems to me that almost all of them had a strange relationship with their bowels.

Maybe it's from changing my baby brother's diapers when I was a teen, and then my daughter's later, and eventually Jay's, but I'm very pragmatic about my own poop and flatulence, and that of others. Hey, it's natural! It's normal! Nothing about it (within reason, like hold it until you get out of the elevator, please) bothers me at all.

Yeah, poop doesn't smell nice, but that's natural, too. The purpose of the odor is to keep you from eating it. Note that an animal will sometimes eat the poop of a different species, but rarely eat the poop of its own (with the exception of mothers who will often eat their baby's leavings, to prevent a carnivore sniffing them out). Odor is natural and normal, and has a purpose. If it didn't stink, we'd have died out as a species millennia ago from intestinal parasites.

Most of the men with whom I have ever shared a bathroom seem to fall into two groups - those who seem mortally ashamed of their necessity to eliminate and pass gas, and those who seem inordinately proud of it - never something in between. (I once had a male cat who was very proud of his deposits in the litter box. He marched around proudly proclaiming his every achievement. He was a very macho cat. Rather reminded me of guys who think farting loudly is an admirable skill.)

It has been my experience that many men won't move their bowels in the vicinity of a woman. They won't simply go when the urge presents. They'll hold it, often for days, until they are assured of privacy (no women around). Then of course it's not an easy task. Years of that practice, holding it against the urge, can ensure that it's never easy. The urge dies. That's when the bathroom becomes the reading room.

There's a guy I know of (not one of "my men") who, reluctant to use the toilet in the house he shares with his wife, has built himself a fancy ventilated composting outhouse in the back yard. His excuse is that using the toilet is wasting a valuable resource that could instead nourish the garden. The utmost in recycling. Composting it and burying it deep in the garden bed instead of spreading it on top eliminates the disease problem. He's very virtuous about the whole thing. Actually, given his preference for pooping in the woods if he can when away from home rather than in a hotel bathroom, I suspect the compost aspect is an excuse. He just doesn't want to be associated with his feces.

Many men will expand their prejudice against the natural process to their women, too. She's never allowed to foop or poop naturally and openly. It must be hidden. I had been taking Glucerna bars and drinks when I went somewhere with The Man so I wouldn't miss a snack, until I discovered they give me a lot of gas. It didn't bother me (I "whisper", remember?), but he seemed disgusted by the very idea, and I was turning blue trying to hold it.

Men are weird about poop. And they think women are difficult to understand?
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3002 Spinning around the webs

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Nostomania - An overwhelming desire to return home or to go back to familiar places.

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Sixty years since the Korean War (or "Police Action", if you prefer). I was a small child at the time, so about all I know about it comes from "MASH". For example, I didn't know that there were troops from 21 countries on "our side".

I've read differing accounts of casualties - one account says two million civilians on both sides were killed, and almost two million soldiers from the North Korean and allied sides.* That does not include maimed - that's killed. The active battle part of the Korean War lasted only three years! Given that the population was a lot lower then than now, that's unbelievable. Unbelievable that we now hear very little about it, about the toll. Unbelievable that there wasn't rioting in the streets. Compare those three-year numbers to the numbers from Iraq and Afghanistan over what, eight years?

Boston.com has a photo spread up.

(*One way that you get differing numbers is that some lower totals include only those who died during hostilities, on the battlefield, so to speak. Higher totals often include those who died some time later, but as a direct result of injuries suffered during hostilities. Also, since so many countries were involved, reports and therefore counts differ.)

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Go to cleverbot.com and you can converse with an artificial intelligence. Well, ok, with a program. Just type a statement or question into the box to get started, or if you click on one of the two "Think..." links, Cleverbot will start the conversation for you.

I didn't find it all that intelligent - it seemed more like a preteen with severe ADHD. I guess the key is to put only one topic in your responses. If there's two, he gets confused and thrashes.

I have to admit that a few of the stored conversations (the "Thoughts..." link) were kind of cute.

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Roba has a cute post about what your email address says about you.
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3001 The lemon got squeezed

Saturday, June 26, 2010

"Between friends there will always be disputes.
It is not in the disputes themselves that we know our true friends,
it is in the way we address them."

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Last evening I went to dinner at a Lebanese restaurant in Troy. At about 6 pm, I was heading west on route 23, and exited 23 to 23B on the ramp leading to the Thruway. I stopped at the stop sign on the ramp where it met 23B, planning to turn right to go to the Thruway entrance. There was a lot of traffic coming from the left, so I waited a bit. To the left is a slight curve and an overpass where route 23 crosses 23B. (Map here.) There was a break in the traffic, so I started forward, crept forward, really, and then saw another car coming under the overpass, so I stopped.

The guy behind me didn't.

It wasn't a very big bump. I had my left foot on the clutch, pressed all the way down, and it jarred enough that I knocked the block on the clutch pedal loose, but my head didn't even hit the headrest. No injuries, no airbags deployed. Other couple are ok, too.

We pulled over to the side to look, and I didn't see anything wrong with Hal at first. The guy's front license plate was held on with big hex-headed screws - and Hal now has two very neat hexagonal holes punched into the rear bumper. And the faint imprint of the guy's plate number in scrapes and plate-paint smears between the holes.

Sigh. Hal's only six weeks old!

The guy readily admitted it was his fault. He looked very green when he realized what he'd hit. We traded info and I called my insurance company when I got home after dinner. I guess Hal's gonna get a new bumper. I wonder how much a new BMW bumper costs. Given that a new bumper for Suzie the seven-year-old Suzuki is over $700, I suspect his insurance company is going to have a fit.

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I picked Hal up at the service center yesterday morning. They admit there's a computer program problem and they're working on a fix, but they found no problem at all with the trunk opening, and the anti-theft system. It worked fine for them.

The trunk is now working fine for me, too. Maybe all the test sequences they ran inadvertently fixed it. The antitheft thing is so random that I can't test it, so I don't know if that's fixed. I stopped for lunch on the way back from the service center, took "the book" in with me, and reread the section on antitheft. Well, more than reread. I studied it, analyzed it, and took notes, and then compared what I read to what I'd seen happen.

The alarm system is turned on when you lock the doors. But since you might leave a person or animal in the car and don't want the motion detectors freaking out (yes, there are motion detectors in the cabin), if you press lock a second time, it turns the alarm off.

I'm pretty sure I didn't press lock twice those times when the alarm should have worked and didn't, and I'm certain I didn't lock the car at all on those times when the alarm went off when it shouldn't have.

HOWEVER!

I am famous for static electricity. I generate power. I have caused '70s-era mainframes to program check simply by walking past them. Before battery watches, back when you had to wind them, a watch wouldn't last more than a week on my wrist before it got magnetized or something. Once the heat goes on in the fall, I get really jumpy.

I wonder if Hal's remote key is simply too sensitive, and it's picking up a static pass over a button and interpreting it as my having pressed the button? That would explain why the alarm was off although I actually pressed the button only once, and why the door was locked although I didn't press the button at all. And it was very humid yesterday, which might explain why the trunk is working - less static when it's humid.

The similarities to 2001's Hal are increasing. He very well might lock me out someday.

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After lunch yesterday I discovered something else interesting.

I've given up searching for the van key. I copied the VIN from the dashboard, went to the Dodge parts guy, and he cut a key for me while I stood there. Very quick.

Now, what was odd is that he didn't ask for any kind of proof that I actually owned the vehicle. It could have been any random car that I saw on the street, decided I liked, and wanted to drive, or at least get into.

The Hairless Hunk said it was because it is older and therefore not valuable. If it were a newer car they'd have asked for proof.

Hmmmm. Like a less valuable car won't have anything valuable in it? And there are lots of older vehicles some people might like to "borrow".

I wonder if it's illegal to cover the dashboard VIN plate.
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3000 My lemonade has no sugar.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

The little boat floated gently across the still pond
exactly like a bowling ball doesn't.

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I got a call from BMW today.

The "Service engine soon" message is coming from a bug in the computer code. I am not surprised. In my long history with The Company, I was famous for being able to break any code. They could test and test six ways from Sunday, hand it to me, and within minutes I'd hit bugs. The last release of the operating system I worked on had upwards of 25 testers testing full time, and yet I wrote more than half of the trouble reports on that release, and I wasn't even testing it. I was just using it.

Computers hate me.

It seems that plugging in the key without actually starting the engine within a certain period of time, in combination with a few other factors, causes the "Service" light to go on. At least that's what they're telling me. So, BMW is rewriting the code. It won't be available for a while. In the meantime, they have turned the light off, and if it goes on again, I can continue to drive as long as the car "is driving ok".

Sorry, but that makes no sense to me. The light has meaning, right? Other things going wrong can cause it to go on, right? If it has no meaning as long as the car "is driving ok", then why have the stupid light? Since if the car isn't "driving ok", the average owner will take it in anyway.

From now on, I guess I'll just call it the "do nothing" light.

The other thing that bothers me is that I *didn't* plug the key in and leave it on without turning the motor on within a reasonable time. I am absolutely sure of that because 1) so many things go on when you plug in that I worry about running down the battery, and 2) it went on Saturday morning, when I KNOW I started it quickly.

The second annoying thing is that even though the intake woman witnessed the trunk not opening, and witnessed the alarm go off when I pushed the button properly, she says that the mechanics couldn't make it fail, therefore found nothing wrong. And, oh, by the way, I don't have to use the button in the cabin, there's a latch under the medallion on the back of the trunk and I can just use that.

Um, yeah, ok, if it won't open from the remote button, I can use the latch, but that's a work-around! I'm not supposed to have to do that! A work-around is not a fix!

As to the random alarms (actually it's more like an ear-piercing siren), again they could find no problem. She assured me that it was impossible for the alarm to go off when the car is unlocked because blah blah blah. I am absolutely certain, 100% certain, no question in my mind whatsoever, that the car was unlocked that day it freaked at the deli.

So much for impossible.

I am very frustrated.

[Much later edit - the alarms were going off because there was a mouse living in the car, who tripped the motion detectors. Really, a mouse.]
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2999 Anniversary, and rental car gas

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Everything worth knowing leaves bruises.

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Oops. Yesterday was the 6-year anniversary of, well, not this blog exactly, since I started on AOL, but of my blogging, I guess. The posts are numbered from the beginning, so the sequence number above is real. That's about 500 posts per year. Yikes!

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Am I remembering wrong? It's stuck in my head that not so very long ago when you rented a car, it came with a full tank of gas, and you had to return it with a full tank, and that was easy. What's this "It's 3/8 full, so you have to return it 3/8 full" crap? How the heck are you supposed to do that? Dribble some in, turn the car on so you can see where the needle is, dribble some more, repeat until the gas station attendant throws you out?

I said, "That's not easy." So he offered to sell me the gas already in the car, "...and then you can return it empty".

Does he really not see that that is not easy either? If I have to drive this thing a few days, I'll be putting gas in it, so without a siphon and a gas can that I can use in the Enterprise parking lot to empty the rental, it's well nigh impossible.

I suggested that they fill it, and I'd return it full. He said they're not equipped to do that. Um, all you have to do is drive it down the road to the nearest gas station, fill it, then give me the keys. What do you mean, "not equipped"?

I think they just don't want to pay for gas, any gas.

(It's not just Enterprise. I've rented several cars in the past few years, and it's been like that every time.) Very annoying.
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2998 Maybe BMWs do come in lemon flavor

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

The first testicular guard, the "cup", was used in hockey in 1874
and the first helmet was used in 1974. That means it took only
100 years for hockey players to realize that their brain is also important.

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Well, Hal went in for service again this morning. Three problems:

• the "Service engine soon" message has been on steadily since Saturday,
• the remote button to open the trunk doesn't open the trunk, but sometimes sets off the alarm,
• the anti-theft system seems arbitrary and random.

So, with the speaker wire problem of a few weeks ago, that's four problems in six weeks.

I called Monday morning to make the appointment, and was told that if the car was acting ok, I could drive it with the service light on. So I did. (And yes, the gas cap was checked by a service station attendant on Sunday, and it was tight, so that's not it.)

The problem with opening the trunk has been around for a while. It worked fine three weeks ago, but then got intermittent, then wouldn't work at all, then last week started with the siren thing. When I told the intake woman about it she said, "Oh, it's probably in valet mode. When it's in valet mode, the remote won't open the trunk." So we went outside and checked and it wasn't in valet mode. So she tried the remote, and the trunk opened. Three times. So I tried it, and it opened, once. The second time it wouldn't open. The third time, the siren went off. She tried again, and it opened. But her second and third tries, it wouldn't open.

I'm glad she saw it in action (or inaction), or they might never have believed me.

The anti-theft thing is harder to demonstrate, because it's so arbitrary, but having demonstrated the trunk, maybe they'll be more likely to take my word for it.

I think my car hates me.

I got a call late this afternoon. They call after they've looked at it to give an estimate of how long they expect to have to keep it. She had no estimate. Uh, they are "in communication with the BMW engineers", and waiting to hear back from them.

Ack. That does not sound good.

They didn't have a loaner for me this time, so they rented a car for me. I asked that they make it a small one. Enterprise picked me up at the BMW garage, and when I asked if they had something small for me, the guy said yes, it's a Ford Edge, a small SUV. My eyebrows shot up. Isn't that kind of like saying "a small Clydesdale"?

The hood on that beast is higher than my shoulder. I have to climb up into it, onto my hands and knees on the seat, then turn to sit down. It's pretty nice driving, though. Smooth. It has the electric seats that I didn't get for Hal because if I'm the only regular driver, they'll mostly stay in one place once I find the optimal setting, so it didn't seem worth it, but they are really nice on a rental, that I have to fiddle with to get right.

Well, anyway, Hal is well named. I was afraid of that.
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2997 No cougar cubs needed, thank you.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

"If all else fails, immortality can always be assured by spectacular error."
-- John Kenneth Galbraith --

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For the past five or six years, two Pakistani guys (they look like brothers) have been working shifts at the gas station. I've been calling them Tall, Dark, and Handsome #1 and #2 - TD&H1 being the older, quieter, family man, and TD&H2 being the younger and friendlier. I don't know how old he is, but he has traces of gray in the temples.

Anyway, TD&H2 has fallen madly in love with Hal. When I stopped in yesterday, he asked if I'd please take him for a ride sometime. He got off at 3 pm today, and we went for our ride, through the Bard college campus (he's always flirting with the college girls who stop in at the gas station, so I thought he'd like that) and then across the river and down to a town park, where we sat at a picnic table and watched the river.

It was a beautiful day for it, warm, sunny, slight breeze, big puffy fluffy clouds in a deep blue sky.

Somewhere along the line he seemed to transfer his adoration from the car to me. I have a new admirer.

He knows I've been dating someone, and that I'm not interested in complications, so he's decided we should be friends. He wants to have a drink some evening next week after he gets off the evening shift. When I said ok I was thinking at the bar in the village. Turns out he's thinking "your place or mine". Uh, no. That's not going to happen.

It's amusing how many younger men have told me lately how much more interesting mature women are.

Sigh. Yeah, we are more interesting, more even-tempered, more reasonable, and better in bed. But somehow, I don't really believe that's what interests them. Cougars can be cynical. Mostly we do know what's going on, but what the hell. Sometimes it's worth it. Sometimes it's not. And sometimes age confers the wisdom to know which is which, when to pounce and when not.
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2996 I Believe, repeating an old post

Sunday, June 20, 2010

"To see what is in front of one's nose needs a constant struggle."
-- George Orwell --

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I've been wandering through my old posts again, and found this one from December 24, 2005:

I believe.

I do believe in some form of reincarnation. I have powerful and personal reasons for my belief.

I believe that we come back over and over to learn lessons. That each pass through, there's some important lesson or lessons we are to learn, and by paying attention and learning these lessons, we grow in some way. Call it spiritual strength if you like. Those whom people say have "old souls" aren't really older, they've just learned more of the lessons.

I believe that the pain and hardship some people suffer in the life they are born into has a purpose. It's how they are started on the path to knowledge. It's the necessary first step of their lesson.

I believe that at some point you learn enough to reach completion and "graduate". I suspect that "God" is a committee of completed souls.

I believe that most of those lessons have to do with interpersonal relations and care of the earth and all that has been given us for our use, although it's really much bigger than that, it's beyond mere planet, it's beyond universal concepts. It has to do with the source of energy, the spinning. I have the feeling but I don't have the words to describe it.

I believe that the important people who come into and leave our lives with great effect are there for a purpose, as are we. Either we are to teach them something, or they are to teach us, or both. Sometimes it's easy to identify these people, sometimes not, but it's important to pay attention. To share what you have to offer. To learn what they have to teach. I call these people intersectors. It's important not to push away an intersector. It's important not to turn away from being one, no matter how difficult it becomes.

I believe that the earthly world is a great temptation. To become too engrossed in getting power, in telling your neighbors how to live, in fussing over physical constructs that in the greater scheme don't really matter, takes away from the real purpose of life.

I believe that most organized religion keeps people from the introspection required to learn their own lessons. I believe this is on purpose.

Perhaps I should be a Buddhist nun. (Although I have looked into Buddhism, and that ain't quite it.... Close, but not quite. Or maybe that's lessons 956 and 957 for me, next life.)

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I was born into a family where there was no love. Our father beat us and berated us all physically, mentally, and emotionally. Our mother pretty much left us to suffer or survive as best we could. My siblings played one against another to gain favor or redirect beatings. We tried to love each other because we thought that was the way it was supposed to be, but anger and hate and avoidance and past betrayals and a lack of faith and trust made it near impossible. Besides, we didn't know how.

When my father died, my mother was finally able to look up and see the damage that had been done, and she tried to repair or make up for what she could, but she didn't know how either, and it was too late anyway.

I grew up with no concept of what it was to love without fear, and to be loved for myself.

We can't really know what our own lessons are, but I suspect I know what one of mine is.
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2995 Do BMW's come in lemon flavor?

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Henry Louis Mencken, on Shakespeare: "After all, all he did was string together a lot of old, well-known quotations."

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Actually, I heard a kid say pretty much the same as the above quote, but he was absolutely serious. He'd just finished "Hamlet", and said that he didn't think Shakespeare was a very good writer, because he used an awful lot of clichés.

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I think I may have bought a lemon.

The nearest BMW service is 40 minutes away. I was a bit concerned because that's a long way to go if something goes wrong, or for a simple oil change. But everyone said oh don't worry about that, you'll be taking it in only once a year or so.

Well, in the first week, the driver's side door speaker stopped working, and I had to take it in to get the pinched wire fixed.

In the third week, the remote trunk opener stopped working. I have to open it with the button inside the cabin. I figured I could live with that until the next visit, but now the remote trunk open button sets off the alarm. I think that means there's something more wrong than a dead remote button.

In the third week, I noticed that the anti-theft doflinkies don't seem to work consistently. I thought maybe I didn't understand how it was supposed to work, but now I think there's something wrong.

Today the big thing happened. When I started it to go to the craft fair, I got the "Service engine soon" light. This is a Very Bad Thing. The book says I can "finish my trip, but be careful [what the heck does that mean?] and don't drive fast or you can mess up the emissions control system. Get it serviced as soon as possible".

Sheesh.

Four things have gone wrong within five weeks, in a car that wasn't supposed to have any problems, ever.
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2994 Craft Fair Part 2

Saturday, June 19, 2010

"By a curious confusion, many modern critics have passed from the proposition
that a masterpiece may be unpopular to the other proposition
that unless it is unpopular it cannot be a masterpiece."
-- G. K. Chesterton --

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Continued from previous post.

Organic and herbal soaps & cosmetics:

Jams and jellies in all kinds of strange flavors and combinations:

Tarts:

Baskets:

Fruit breads and pies. They actually had sugar-free fruit pies, so I bought a 6-inch blueberry pie.

Biscotti. Again, she had sugar-free, so I bought three containers - almond, lemon, and cappuccino chocolate. I was surprised to find that many of the food vendors had sugar-free wares this year. Or maybe they always had them and I just didn't notice. By the way, everybody offers tastes. You can make a whole (unbalanced) meal in this building.

Painter, I think, maybe photography. I forget.

Shea butter seems very popular, wharever it is:

Handmade Victorian doodads:
Carved wood:

Glass paperweight-sort of things. Those are frilly glass jellyfish inside.

Stained glass with fossil and fossil-like inclusions:

Wooden jewelry boxes:

Soft leather:

Wood:

Pottery (love the Hershey's Kisses):

Leather:

Wooden utensils:

Hats:

There was lots of jewelry, everywhere, some of it very creative. This is not a particularly good photo representation, but when I hit jewelry booths, I was looking, not shooting. (I bought a necklace made of horse shoe nails.)

In many of the booths, craftsmen were actually making things right there (he stepped away just as I took the photo):

Furniture:

I do enjoy the craft fair. My two favorite artists were not there this year. One guy paints the most incredibly detailed local scenes, tiny brush strokes, every blade of grass is individual. The other guy has photos from his travels around the world - mostly architectural detail. I have in the past bought something from each of them about every other year or so. I haven't seen either of them in two or three years. I miss them.
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2993 Craft Fair

Saturday, June 19, 2010

"It is not necessary to understand things in order to argue about them."
--Pierre Beaumarchais--

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I went to the Rhinebeck craft fair today. I think it was very courageous of me, given what happened the last time I went to the fairgrounds, for the antiques fair - I couldn't complete the circuit of the booths because I got so very weak, almost didn't make it back to the car, and that night I lost consciousness twice. I haven't walked any great distance since then, because, frankly, I was afraid to test me. I was afraid the same thing would happen today. If there was something horribly wrong, I didn't want to know. Not until after I've moved, anyway.

It didn't happen again. I made it through all the buildings, visited all the booths, and wasn't tired or weak at all. I swung right along like always before. I am very relieved.

I have occasionally invited people to go to the craft fair with me, and they always say, "Nah, I'll skip it", thinking I guess of little old ladies crocheting doll clothes, the usual church Christmas craft fairs. This is nothing like that. The stuff is all gorgeous, all handmade by true artists, and, unfortunately, mostly outrageously expensive. But it sure is fun to look at.

Forged aluminum platters:

Bags and painted portraits:

Handmade canoes (I overheard someone say they were $3K):

Pottery and stained glass:

Baskets:
One of the three long buildings (there's a fourth large square building). There are two aisles the length of the building, with booths on either side (four rows of booths per building). Most people walk down one aisle looking at things on both sides, then back up the other aisle. I walk down the first aisle looking only to the right, then back up the same aisle, again looking only to the right. That way I don't miss anything, but I end up walking twice the distance.

Glass paperweights:

Pottery:

Scrap sculpture. I didn't use the flash in the building, so I wouldn't disturb anyone, which means the camera had to be held very still. So some of the photos are fuzzy, but I included them anyway, just to show the variety.

This photo is disappointing because it doesn't show the beauty of these whatsises. They are made of thick pieces of natural color heavily weathered and textured old barn wood, and are very three-dimensional. This photo makes them look flat and boring, almost just paintings. They're not! I absolutely love them.

Handmade lamps and shades:

My lunch, a Greek salad with roast chicken, and that yummy yogurt and cucumber sauce on top. Good, but a bit expensive at $9 for the salad and $2 for a small bottle of water.

This is the large rectangular building. Booths around the outside walls, and then three or four "islands" of booths in the middle. This building is mostly craft foods, cosmetics, and a few stray other crafters. This particular photo shows the six or seven local wineries offering tastings. They are always set up along the wall just inside the entrance.

I don't know how many photos one can include in one post, so I'll stop here and continue in the next post.
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2992 More things I don't understand

Friday, June 18, 2010

"All human beings should try to learn before they die
what they are running from, and to, and why."
-- James Thurber --

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I've finally found someone willing to work on the van, and now I can't find the keys.

Typical.

---------------------------------

From yesterday's episode of "The Drs", a true story:

A guy working in a pizzeria was injured when a freezer door swung open unexpectedly and hit him in the back. He needs back surgery. A court ruled that the employer (through workman's compensation insurance?) must pay for the back surgery.

So far, so good. Sounds right and fair to me.

However, the guy weighs well over 300 lbs. Back surgery on someone that overweight is unlikely to be successful, so no reputable surgeon will operate until he loses weight first.

So the court has ruled that the employer must also pay for lap band surgery! If Workman's Comp won't pay for it, the employer must pay out of his own pocket.

What!?! How is the employer responsible for the guy's being too fat for back surgery?

I think this is very wrong.

The result will be that no one will want to hire overweight people, if they'll end up held responsible for the consequences of that obesity.

Bad bad bad court!

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Just found an article on the above: http://www.weightlosssurgerychannel.com/breaking-wls-news/lap-band-surgery-to-be-covered-by-pizza-shop.html/

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On POTUS radio today, two guys were discussing what that mineral discovery in Afghanistan might mean to the Afghan people.

The "expert" said not much, that the local warlords and government officials would be putting the profits into their personal bank accounts, and the Afghan people won't see much improvement in their lives from it, that in fact it's happening already. China has been for some time paying warlords and certain government officials for the right to mine in Afghanistan.

Both the interviewer and the expert were unhappy with that.

That left me wondering. What did they want to see happen? That the general population would share in the wealth somehow, sort of like some oil-rich middle eastern countries, where every citizen gets a cut of the oil money, so much so that most of them have no need to work? Or like Alaska, where citizens get a cut of oil and gas contracts? Isn't that, um, socialism? [Wikipedia defines socialism as "a social and economic system (or the political philosophy advocating such a system) in which the economic means of production are owned and controlled collectively by the people.]

I suspect that local people are working in the Chinese mines, so they have a job and are getting paid. The profits are going to the top dogs. If you want to make a whole bunch of money, you just have to grow yourself into a top dog. Um, isn't that the essence of capitalism?

So, um, if capitalism is so wonderful and socialism is so bad, what exactly is the problem with what's happening in Afghanistan?
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2991 Garter Glutton

Thursday, June 17, 2010

No matter how far wrong you’ve gone, you can always turn around.

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I was picking black raspberries in the front flowerbed (told ya it was overtaken by weeds!) a few minutes ago, and almost stepped on a green and yellow striped garter snake.

He was about 14 inches long, very slender, and he had a bulge in his middle third so large that he could barely move.

I suspect I have one fewer chipmunk.

I thought garter snakes ate only bugs and other itty-bitty things like worms and tree frogs. They have small mouths, and I didn't think they are big or strong enough to crush a chipmunk skull. I don't understand how he could have swallowed something as large as that bulge.

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Later, after reading the Wikipedia entry on garter snakes:

Ahah! The other possibility is that it's a she, and she's very pregnant, and about to give birth! Garter snakes mate in the spring, gestation is 2 to 3 months, the young are born live, and she can have anywhere from 3 to 80 babies. So the timing fits, and the location of the bulge fits.

That makes more sense.
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2990 I am small, too.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

"The word 'politics' is derived from the word 'poly', meaning 'many',
and the word 'ticks', meaning 'blood sucking parasites'."
-- Larry Hardiman --

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People are all upset at the BP guy's reference to "the small people".

Oh, come on. Give it up! By "the small people" he means the ordinary folks who don't have gazillion-dollar lawyers behind them, who don't have power, who can't force anyone with power to recognize them, and anyone who doesn't recognize that is an idiot and is just looking for any little thing to complain about, to get people emotionally worked up. I don't think the term needs to be attributed to "an error in translation", demonstrates arrogance, or needs an apology. You are a "small person" when compared to multinational corporations - or any corporation or government, for that matter.

Hell of a lot of misplaced anger and emotional drum-beating going around. Get over it, folks. It was an accident. Now focus on the real issues.
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