Saturday, May 16, 2015
I got interrupted yesterday by Nugget coming over to visit.
Walking her back over to her house later, we found a tiny baby bird (still with fluff on either side of his head and on his back, so definitely not ready to leave the nest) hopping down the middle of the street. No idea where he came from. The rest of the evening was spent building him a nest box in my spare bathroom, digging worms and grubs for him, and feeding him. So I now have a bird after all. Looks like it might be a starling.
To conclude the previous bird stories, the blackbirds gave up on the dryer vent after one got stuck ripping open the netting Daughter had put over the opening to keep them out. Once it got loose, they never came back. Funny that running the clothes dryer didn't bother them, but a net "trap" frightened them away.
The house finches who built the nest in the wreath on my front door were evicted twice, and when they rebuilt the third time I gave up and allowed them to stay. They laid four eggs in the prettiest, softest-lined nest I've ever seen, and just five days later the eggs were ... gone. I suspect a squirrel got them. Mother squirrels will eat eggs and new hatchlings because they need calcium when they're nursing babies. (When you make eggs for breakfast, crush the shells and toss them out on the lawn for nursing mothers: squirrels, racoons, possums, cats, whatever. If nobody takes them, they're good for your lawn.) Anyway, the finches haven't been back.
I think the robin who'd laid claim to my patch of front lawn has built a nest in the tree, and may have chicks because I'll see a robin fly into the tree, and then there's an unholy racket of buzzing and chirping.
So, expect future updates on the baby bird in the bathroom. He eats a LOT! Just this evening he ate six chubby earthworms, two fat grubs, and about 12-15 medium-sized mealworms before he decided he was full and stopped begging. That was his fifth meal of the day. Nugget is happy feeding him, but when he gets full and wants to sleep, she's done. Daughter has fallen in love with him and will easily spend an hour up there snuggling him.
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So, to continue from yesterday. Where was I? Oh, yeah, Tuesday, May 5th. The Hunk had just put the new tire on my car. Then I went to the village diner for lunch, and to the hardware store for white spray paint, and a few other stores for some other stuff. When I got back to the house, I pried the new numbers off the tree next to the driveway, painted a large white oval on the bark, and renailed the numbers. Now you can see them.
By then it was close to 5 pm. Still nothing accomplished on the house, midway through the second trip.
I had been trying to sort the crap in the house into "take south", "sell or give away", and "throw away", and I'd been making very little progress because, well, there's so much, and everything has to be touched, examined, considered. On a previous 2014 three day trip, all I'd done was go through one drawer of the four drawer horizontal file cabinet. This time I just grabbed some garbage bags and ran quickly around throwing stuff in the bags. I was really being tough. I even threw out a jade Chinese teapot because it leaked. I filled two huge garbage bags, and tossed them into the back seat of the car. And then about 8 pm I sat down in the den for a minute, and woke at 11 pm with my head on the desk. I was exhausted. I went to bed.
I left fairly early Wednesday because I have to be south of Newark by 4 pm or the traffic is awful, or wait until after 6 pm to leave, and I wanted to be home to watch Survivor at 8 so that wasn't going to cut it. I left at 1 pm, and the 2.5 hour trip took me 4.5 hours because of roadwork near Suffern and ... something? an accident long cleared out? ... near the Oranges that both slowed me down to 2nd gear for miles and miles.
But I was very good about those garbage bags. I resisted the urge to look into them one more time, and they went out with Thursday's garbage collection.
So, two round trips, five days, many hours driving, $900 in hotel, gas, tolls, thermostat, tire, and I have two bags of trash to show for it. I hope the next trip is more productive --- but I sorta doubt it because I'll be meeting with the a/c man to discuss getting the old heat pump replaced with electric a/c, and I want to go to the SS office up there to get some business handled, since the local SS office down here is understaffed and overcrowded, you can't make an appointment (although the website says you can by calling, but the phone call gets you a recorded message that says you have to appear in person), and on three attempts in person I hadn't been able to actually see anyone ("take a number", wait wait wait, "oops, we're closing now, come back tomorrow", when it's the same thing again).
I am currently collecting SS and Medicare on Jay's record as his widow, but I can give myself a huge raise by collecting on Ex#2's record. That is complicated, have to show proof we were married long enough, it affects my medical insurance, and so on and so on. Can't do it online.
I hope no more trees get blown over up there.
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Showing posts with label HairlessHunk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HairlessHunk. Show all posts
Saturday, May 16, 2015
4036 Long time no see.
Friday, May 15, 2015
It's been a while. Slightly over a month. Partly because I'd been busy, but mainly because my laptop had been in the shop (which was mysteriously closed for a while). I have my little Sony notebook, which works just fine for visiting websites and reading mail, and writing short comments and so on, but is frustrating to type on. Yes, I bought a Bluetooth keyboard for it, but the freakin' thing doesn't want to hold a charge.
Laptop is now back, so I am too.
About the only noteworthy thing that's happened in the past month is that the Nugget celebrated her fourth birthday, and I've been to the old house twice in the past three weeks, both very expensive trips.
Nugget has been hearing about measles, I guess. She told her father one day that she wasn't feeling well, might be coming down with something, "I think I have weasels." For her birthday I got her an art easel she can use at my house, the kind with blackboard on one side, white board on the other, and paper on a roll underneath that can be draped over the top. She went home and told her Daddy that Gramma got her a weasel!
Sometimes it's hard to know what's going on with 4-year-olds.
I hadn't been to the old house all winter. They had a LOT of snow last winter, and I just didn't want to deal with it. My last trip of 2014 had been in November, to make sure the furnace was on and to shut off the water and drain the pipes so there'd be no danger of freezing. I made my first trip for this year in late April, heading up Thursday, planning to stay until Saturday.
It was still very cold up there - daytime high in the low 40s and nights dropping into the low 30s. When I got to the house on Thursday, it was 56 in the house. I pushed the thermostat buttons to boost the heat, and nothing happened, except that the thermostat went blank - except for a flashing "low bat". Hmmmm.
I drove into the village and bought some batteries. I installed the new batteries, and the thermostat went completely wonky, like digital "8"s blinking everywhere. But the furnace fan did come on. It was blowing cold air. Seems like the burner wasn't on. Hmmmm.
I went downstairs to check the furnace, and the gauge on the oil tank said it was empty. Hmmmm. Maybe the furnace hadn't been running at all? So how could it have been 56 when I arrived? Then I remembered - that house is extremely well insulated, and practically the entire west wall is glass. The afternoon sun can warm it up.
By then it was getting late, sun was low, and the temperature started dropping. Obviously I wasn't going to be sleeping there. I don't know what the heck was going on locally, but the cheapest close hotel room I could get was $199. Plus tax. Sigh. Non-scary Kingston motels aren't cheap to start with, and Rhinebeck is worse.
The next morning, Friday, I went back to the house, and it was cold. Worse, it was a cloudy day. The Hairless Hunk had been removing some fallen trees from my side yard, so loads of logs, his huge trailer, AND a flatbed truck, AND his spare car were parked at the top of the driveway. The fuel oil truck needs to be able to turn around at the top because the driveway is long, steep, curving, and narrow and they hate to back up or down it. I can't call for a delivery until I know the Hunk has cleared the driveway, and he has a job. I felt so discouraged I packed up a few things and went home. Made my calls from there.
I couldn't go back until the second Monday following, but I got an oil delivery order in the meantime, and made an appointment for thermostat service on Monday, May 4, at 2 pm. I rushed up river that Monday to arrive by 1 pm, because I had to nail some house numbers on a tree near the end of the driveway, because some fool had run over the mailbox. The bark on the tree was light gray. The numbers were 7 inches high, black with reflective white edges. From a distance of 8 feet you couldn't see the stupid numbers.
Drove up the rest of the driveway and found the invoice for the oil delivery on the front door. They had pumped $9.32 worth of oil. Duh? The previous delivery had been in late February, for 250 gallons, so that means that up until February the furnace had been running, but had not been running since the February delivery.
The service guy arrived. He said yeah, the oil tank is full, the gauge must be stuck on empty. The furnace had to be reset, it must have run out of oil just before the February delivery and shut itself off. Yup, the thermostat was dead, no idea why, sometimes they just fry themselves. Especially after fifteen years.
I'm so glad there's no water in the pipes in the house. It was a very cold February and March up there.
The furnace guy didn't want to install a new thermostat. He was honest. He said the thermostat isn't covered under my (very expensive) service contract, so the company would bill me $300 for a new one, but I could buy a perfectly good one for $65 at the big hardware store across the river and install it myself or have someone do it for me. The Hunk works weird hours (UPS), so he was already sleeping and would be leaving for work at 9 pm. It took me about 30 seconds thinking to say, "Fooey. Do it now. I'd rather have it working now than have to freeze here today and spend another night in a hotel." (The bill has arrived, BTW, and I got a discount because of the service contract, so it was just a hair over $200.) That's $400 so far on two trips up, in addition to the $100 per trip in gas and tolls, and I hadn't accomplished anything yet.
After the furnace guy left, I went to the deli to get a late lunch, and hit a pothole. With the BMW. Split a sidewall, about 1.5 inches. Drove into the village to meet with Piper to discuss investment strategy, then drove to Rhinebeck to the tire place. They didn't have my tire in stock (low profile, drive-flat). They can get it in by tomorrow morning, but that's ok, I can drive on a blown drive-flat at low speeds for like 100 miles, no problem.
By then it was like 6 pm, and I was dog tired. I poked around at the house a little bit, and went to bed early. I slept very badly, hardly at all, because the alarm clock no longer works, and I needed to be up and dressed early.
At 7 am Tuesday morning, the Hunk came by to look at some tools I had told him he could have from the basement - a large standing drill press and a table saw. He's been so dependable and helpful the past few years, keeping the grounds presentable and the house safe, as far as I'm concerned he can have everything I don't need. He loaded the drill press into his truck, and then said, "Hey, your tire's flat."
BMWs don't come with spare tires. Or jacks. There's no place to put them anyway.
The damn thing was down to the rim. No way I was going to drive it the 10 miles to Rhinebeck. Now, the Hunk gets home from work about 6 am, works a variety of jobs until about 2 pm, goes to sleep for a few hours, and then back to UPS at 9 pm. He had mentioned he had a contract in Rhinebeck that day. I said I was going to call the tire place and get a tow truck. He said no, he'd just take the tire off and take me and the tire to Rhinebeck - but he wouldn't be able to pick me up again until around 2, is that ok?
The new tire was on the rim at about 11, and I got a call from him as I was paying ($245) for it, he needed to go home to get some tools - so he picked me and the tire up, took us home, put the tire on the car, and retrieved his jack and tire iron, and went back to the job.
See why I don't mind giving him drill presses and table saws?
Continued next post.......
.
It's been a while. Slightly over a month. Partly because I'd been busy, but mainly because my laptop had been in the shop (which was mysteriously closed for a while). I have my little Sony notebook, which works just fine for visiting websites and reading mail, and writing short comments and so on, but is frustrating to type on. Yes, I bought a Bluetooth keyboard for it, but the freakin' thing doesn't want to hold a charge.
Laptop is now back, so I am too.
About the only noteworthy thing that's happened in the past month is that the Nugget celebrated her fourth birthday, and I've been to the old house twice in the past three weeks, both very expensive trips.
Nugget has been hearing about measles, I guess. She told her father one day that she wasn't feeling well, might be coming down with something, "I think I have weasels." For her birthday I got her an art easel she can use at my house, the kind with blackboard on one side, white board on the other, and paper on a roll underneath that can be draped over the top. She went home and told her Daddy that Gramma got her a weasel!
Sometimes it's hard to know what's going on with 4-year-olds.
I hadn't been to the old house all winter. They had a LOT of snow last winter, and I just didn't want to deal with it. My last trip of 2014 had been in November, to make sure the furnace was on and to shut off the water and drain the pipes so there'd be no danger of freezing. I made my first trip for this year in late April, heading up Thursday, planning to stay until Saturday.
It was still very cold up there - daytime high in the low 40s and nights dropping into the low 30s. When I got to the house on Thursday, it was 56 in the house. I pushed the thermostat buttons to boost the heat, and nothing happened, except that the thermostat went blank - except for a flashing "low bat". Hmmmm.
I drove into the village and bought some batteries. I installed the new batteries, and the thermostat went completely wonky, like digital "8"s blinking everywhere. But the furnace fan did come on. It was blowing cold air. Seems like the burner wasn't on. Hmmmm.
I went downstairs to check the furnace, and the gauge on the oil tank said it was empty. Hmmmm. Maybe the furnace hadn't been running at all? So how could it have been 56 when I arrived? Then I remembered - that house is extremely well insulated, and practically the entire west wall is glass. The afternoon sun can warm it up.
By then it was getting late, sun was low, and the temperature started dropping. Obviously I wasn't going to be sleeping there. I don't know what the heck was going on locally, but the cheapest close hotel room I could get was $199. Plus tax. Sigh. Non-scary Kingston motels aren't cheap to start with, and Rhinebeck is worse.
The next morning, Friday, I went back to the house, and it was cold. Worse, it was a cloudy day. The Hairless Hunk had been removing some fallen trees from my side yard, so loads of logs, his huge trailer, AND a flatbed truck, AND his spare car were parked at the top of the driveway. The fuel oil truck needs to be able to turn around at the top because the driveway is long, steep, curving, and narrow and they hate to back up or down it. I can't call for a delivery until I know the Hunk has cleared the driveway, and he has a job. I felt so discouraged I packed up a few things and went home. Made my calls from there.
I couldn't go back until the second Monday following, but I got an oil delivery order in the meantime, and made an appointment for thermostat service on Monday, May 4, at 2 pm. I rushed up river that Monday to arrive by 1 pm, because I had to nail some house numbers on a tree near the end of the driveway, because some fool had run over the mailbox. The bark on the tree was light gray. The numbers were 7 inches high, black with reflective white edges. From a distance of 8 feet you couldn't see the stupid numbers.
Drove up the rest of the driveway and found the invoice for the oil delivery on the front door. They had pumped $9.32 worth of oil. Duh? The previous delivery had been in late February, for 250 gallons, so that means that up until February the furnace had been running, but had not been running since the February delivery.
The service guy arrived. He said yeah, the oil tank is full, the gauge must be stuck on empty. The furnace had to be reset, it must have run out of oil just before the February delivery and shut itself off. Yup, the thermostat was dead, no idea why, sometimes they just fry themselves. Especially after fifteen years.
I'm so glad there's no water in the pipes in the house. It was a very cold February and March up there.
The furnace guy didn't want to install a new thermostat. He was honest. He said the thermostat isn't covered under my (very expensive) service contract, so the company would bill me $300 for a new one, but I could buy a perfectly good one for $65 at the big hardware store across the river and install it myself or have someone do it for me. The Hunk works weird hours (UPS), so he was already sleeping and would be leaving for work at 9 pm. It took me about 30 seconds thinking to say, "Fooey. Do it now. I'd rather have it working now than have to freeze here today and spend another night in a hotel." (The bill has arrived, BTW, and I got a discount because of the service contract, so it was just a hair over $200.) That's $400 so far on two trips up, in addition to the $100 per trip in gas and tolls, and I hadn't accomplished anything yet.
After the furnace guy left, I went to the deli to get a late lunch, and hit a pothole. With the BMW. Split a sidewall, about 1.5 inches. Drove into the village to meet with Piper to discuss investment strategy, then drove to Rhinebeck to the tire place. They didn't have my tire in stock (low profile, drive-flat). They can get it in by tomorrow morning, but that's ok, I can drive on a blown drive-flat at low speeds for like 100 miles, no problem.
By then it was like 6 pm, and I was dog tired. I poked around at the house a little bit, and went to bed early. I slept very badly, hardly at all, because the alarm clock no longer works, and I needed to be up and dressed early.
At 7 am Tuesday morning, the Hunk came by to look at some tools I had told him he could have from the basement - a large standing drill press and a table saw. He's been so dependable and helpful the past few years, keeping the grounds presentable and the house safe, as far as I'm concerned he can have everything I don't need. He loaded the drill press into his truck, and then said, "Hey, your tire's flat."
BMWs don't come with spare tires. Or jacks. There's no place to put them anyway.
The damn thing was down to the rim. No way I was going to drive it the 10 miles to Rhinebeck. Now, the Hunk gets home from work about 6 am, works a variety of jobs until about 2 pm, goes to sleep for a few hours, and then back to UPS at 9 pm. He had mentioned he had a contract in Rhinebeck that day. I said I was going to call the tire place and get a tow truck. He said no, he'd just take the tire off and take me and the tire to Rhinebeck - but he wouldn't be able to pick me up again until around 2, is that ok?
The new tire was on the rim at about 11, and I got a call from him as I was paying ($245) for it, he needed to go home to get some tools - so he picked me and the tire up, took us home, put the tire on the car, and retrieved his jack and tire iron, and went back to the job.
See why I don't mind giving him drill presses and table saws?
Continued next post.......
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Tuesday, February 18, 2014
3821 Show Snovels and Checks
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Rules for snow shovels:
- Store the shovel outside for the winter, so it's at air temperature when you use it. You can't shovel snow with a warm shovel.
- Occasionally (like every other use) spritz it with Pam, so snow will slide off easily.
- NEVER chop ice with it. That will cause the sides of the blade to curl.
I can use the same shovel for years, as long as I'm the only one using it. The one I have now is about three years old, and I love it. It has that bent handle that's easy to lift, and the blade is plastic with a curl at the top and raised sides, which makes it perfect for using like a plow. Because the blade is plastic, it's lightweight, and it has a metal strip on the underside to keep the edge flat.
Well, Daughter and Hercules (Wow! The first time he's ever done anything resembling work for me without being asked/shamed into it!) used it after the last two storms, and now the blade is cupped. It doesn't run flat anymore.
I am unhappy.
------------------------------------------
The real estate taxes on the city house are due quarterly. I have it stuck in my head that "quarterly" is March, June, September, and December. This being New Jersey, naturally they want it February 1st, May 1st, and so on. So I didn't realize that I was late until Tuesday evening, the 11th - one day past the 10-day grace period.
Wednesday I hurried off to the town hall to pay, but they were closed for Lincoln's Birthday. Thursday they were closed for snow. Friday I couldn't get out of my driveway. Saturday and Sunday they were closed. Monday they were closed for President's Day (yeah, in addition to Thursday. Nice job). I finally got in today, and had to pay more than a week's penalty. I think I got burned.
-------------------------------------------
I have a 35-year-old checking and savings account (and a pre-approved emergency loan account) with my old credit union at the country house. The credit union started life as the IBM Employees' Credit Union. My account numbers were my employee serial number, with "001" suffix on the savings account, and "009" suffix on the checking, which made the account numbers easy to remember. When IBM left that area it, the credit union, went pubic.
For the past 8 years (8 because I'm a widow getting benefits on Jay's account) Social Security has been depositing my monthly check into the checking account, let's call it "123456009" (where 123456 was my employee number) on the second Wednesday of the month, with no difficulty.
Yesterday I got a letter from the bank saying that the SS check had arrived and they were unable to process it as written. They processed it by hand, but would not process it next month unless it was fixed.
Duh?
They said that the check was sent for deposit to account 12356009, and they manually deposited it to 1234560001 CHK.
Ok, I see what SS did - they skipped a digit (the "4"), but I don't understand why the bank deposited the check into the savings account, and why did they call it the "CHK" account if it has the savings suffix? I don't understand. I called the credit union.
Turns out that they changed the account numbers last fall. (I don't recall getting any kind of notification!) Now the checking account ends in 0001.
I asked, "So what's the sufffix for the savings?"
She said, "Savings is 0001, too."
Me, very confused, "So how do you tell them apart?"
She, "The savings account number now starts with 2."
Me, "So my savings account number is now 21234560001?"
She, "Yes."
I don't understand.
I told her I've been writing checks with the 009 suffix printed on them. She said that's ok, they'll still go through. When I order new checks I'll see the new number on them.
Sheesh. I write maybe 8 checks a year on that account. I have a 15 year supply. I wonder how long they'll tolerate that 009 suffix, and whether I'll get any notice when they update their system, or will they just start bouncing checks.
-------------------------------------------
As if that wasn't enough aggravation, I got a call from the fuel supplier for the country house. The house with the 300 foot uphill curved driveway. The driver tried to deliver, and says the driveway is too narrow, it needs to be plowed wider. (I do ensure that the trucks can turn around at the top, but I guess I can understand their fear that they may be forced to back down that slalom run.)
The plow piles on either side are about five feet high now. They've had a LOT of snow this winter - 24 additional inches last week alone - and no thaws. The Hairless Hunk has done a hero's job keeping it plowed. I really really appreciate his being there. But he's plowing with a pickup truck. I don't know if he CAN widen it at this point.
So, I wrote him an email this morning, asking what can be done, and if he has to bring in reinforcements, I can overnight him the cost. But I've got to get oil. The last delivery was in early December. The thermostat is set at 50 degrees, but the temperatures up there have been ranging between 23 and -10 since then. The water is turned off, but still, the pressure tank from the well could freeze. I don't remember whether I threw the breaker for the pump.
I'm SO ready for spring.
.
Rules for snow shovels:
- Store the shovel outside for the winter, so it's at air temperature when you use it. You can't shovel snow with a warm shovel.
- Occasionally (like every other use) spritz it with Pam, so snow will slide off easily.
- NEVER chop ice with it. That will cause the sides of the blade to curl.
I can use the same shovel for years, as long as I'm the only one using it. The one I have now is about three years old, and I love it. It has that bent handle that's easy to lift, and the blade is plastic with a curl at the top and raised sides, which makes it perfect for using like a plow. Because the blade is plastic, it's lightweight, and it has a metal strip on the underside to keep the edge flat.
Well, Daughter and Hercules (Wow! The first time he's ever done anything resembling work for me without being asked/shamed into it!) used it after the last two storms, and now the blade is cupped. It doesn't run flat anymore.
I am unhappy.
------------------------------------------
The real estate taxes on the city house are due quarterly. I have it stuck in my head that "quarterly" is March, June, September, and December. This being New Jersey, naturally they want it February 1st, May 1st, and so on. So I didn't realize that I was late until Tuesday evening, the 11th - one day past the 10-day grace period.
Wednesday I hurried off to the town hall to pay, but they were closed for Lincoln's Birthday. Thursday they were closed for snow. Friday I couldn't get out of my driveway. Saturday and Sunday they were closed. Monday they were closed for President's Day (yeah, in addition to Thursday. Nice job). I finally got in today, and had to pay more than a week's penalty. I think I got burned.
-------------------------------------------
I have a 35-year-old checking and savings account (and a pre-approved emergency loan account) with my old credit union at the country house. The credit union started life as the IBM Employees' Credit Union. My account numbers were my employee serial number, with "001" suffix on the savings account, and "009" suffix on the checking, which made the account numbers easy to remember. When IBM left that area it, the credit union, went pubic.
For the past 8 years (8 because I'm a widow getting benefits on Jay's account) Social Security has been depositing my monthly check into the checking account, let's call it "123456009" (where 123456 was my employee number) on the second Wednesday of the month, with no difficulty.
Yesterday I got a letter from the bank saying that the SS check had arrived and they were unable to process it as written. They processed it by hand, but would not process it next month unless it was fixed.
Duh?
They said that the check was sent for deposit to account 12356009, and they manually deposited it to 1234560001 CHK.
Ok, I see what SS did - they skipped a digit (the "4"), but I don't understand why the bank deposited the check into the savings account, and why did they call it the "CHK" account if it has the savings suffix? I don't understand. I called the credit union.
Turns out that they changed the account numbers last fall. (I don't recall getting any kind of notification!) Now the checking account ends in 0001.
I asked, "So what's the sufffix for the savings?"
She said, "Savings is 0001, too."
Me, very confused, "So how do you tell them apart?"
She, "The savings account number now starts with 2."
Me, "So my savings account number is now 21234560001?"
She, "Yes."
I don't understand.
I told her I've been writing checks with the 009 suffix printed on them. She said that's ok, they'll still go through. When I order new checks I'll see the new number on them.
Sheesh. I write maybe 8 checks a year on that account. I have a 15 year supply. I wonder how long they'll tolerate that 009 suffix, and whether I'll get any notice when they update their system, or will they just start bouncing checks.
-------------------------------------------
As if that wasn't enough aggravation, I got a call from the fuel supplier for the country house. The house with the 300 foot uphill curved driveway. The driver tried to deliver, and says the driveway is too narrow, it needs to be plowed wider. (I do ensure that the trucks can turn around at the top, but I guess I can understand their fear that they may be forced to back down that slalom run.)
The plow piles on either side are about five feet high now. They've had a LOT of snow this winter - 24 additional inches last week alone - and no thaws. The Hairless Hunk has done a hero's job keeping it plowed. I really really appreciate his being there. But he's plowing with a pickup truck. I don't know if he CAN widen it at this point.
So, I wrote him an email this morning, asking what can be done, and if he has to bring in reinforcements, I can overnight him the cost. But I've got to get oil. The last delivery was in early December. The thermostat is set at 50 degrees, but the temperatures up there have been ranging between 23 and -10 since then. The water is turned off, but still, the pressure tank from the well could freeze. I don't remember whether I threw the breaker for the pump.
I'm SO ready for spring.
.
Sunday, September 09, 2012
3612 What to say
Sunday, September 9, 2012
I have a friend whose mother has been declining steadily for the past five years. His older sister died about two years ago after months in a coma, and they never told the mother that her daughter was even ill because they didn't think she could handle it. Although she doesn't have Alzheimer's, she's far enough into dementia that they figured she wouldn't notice.
He called me the other day to say he's headed for Florida, because they figure there's not more than a few days left. She's on morphine, and that has a habit of easing people out.
He'll call me when she's gone.
Of course I've been thinking about what to say when he calls. That's always so awkward. When his sister died it wasn't difficult because her death was a relief. She was basically vegetative after multiple strokes. The doctors recommended taking her off life support, and everyone agreed except her son, who started legal action to prevent it. So she lingered for almost a year, until someone "found" her living will and health proxy among her files. (It was my idea, by the way, that if they looked for it, maybe they'd find it, or "find" it if necessary. I don't know the details, how they managed it.) So when he called to say he had pulled the plug, I said good, I'm sure she appreciated it, and that was the right thing to say, and it wasn't difficult because that was his attitude.
This is going to be much harder for him. He's the only son (several sisters) and was/is very much an Irish Catholic momma's boy.
I never know what to say to friends and coworkers. "Sorry for your loss" seems so trite. Mostly, I'm afraid, I don't say much of anything. In most cases, I didn't know the deceased person, so it's hard to "share memories" like all the columns suggest.
There are a few times when I went further than the simple sympathetic nod, and I don't know whether it was good or bad. I have a tendency to miss, or ignore, that sometimes people know things, but are avoiding or hiding it. Then I go and point it out. I draw attention to the elephant in the room. I do that a lot. It's seldom appreciated.
The Hairless Hunk's wife had a miscarriage. H.H. told me that she was having a lot of difficulty with it, and he didn't know what to do about it. I told him that I understood, that I'd had three miscarriages and a stillbirth, and it's a very private anguish because no one else understands.
Now, at the time, I didn't know her at all. The only time I'd ever seen her was on the road. She walked a lot. One day shortly after my talk with H.H., she was turning at the end of the road as I was pulling into the driveway, and she waved for me to stop. I rolled down the window, and she said that H.H. had said I'd had some miscarriages, and that she should talk to me. She said she was having a lot of trouble getting past it, and that everyone says she should just get pregnant again as soon as possible, and how that just makes her feel worse, like the baby didn't matter, and she doesn't want another pregnancy. She asked how I'd got past it.
I told her that the problem is that to everyone else, the baby was just an idea. She's the only person who actually knew the baby. To her, and only to her, the baby was a real person, with preferences, likes and dislikes. She knew when he was asleep and when he was awake. She knew his nap/exercise cycle. She felt his arms and legs moving. She knew whether he was a runner or a kicker. She even knew what kind of music he liked, and how he liked to be rocked, and when he had hiccups. Nobody else knows that. To them, the baby was just potential, just an idea. To them, starting another baby is just getting on with the idea.
She burst into tears. "Yes! Yes! Exactly!" She cried so hard it scared me.
I advised her to write up everything she knew about the baby's personality, and then either tell H.H. and her parents, or let them read what she'd written. Make the baby real, as real to them as he was to her.
H.H. wondered what I'd said to her. I guess she was a mess after that conversation, cried constantly for days. I don't know whether she "made the baby real" to others or not, but she was pregnant with twins within a year.
For a long time after, I wonder if I'd helped or just made it worse. Maybe the elephant would have wandered off on its own. I can argue either side.
Another time involved a classmate in a law class. She was an IBM Director in her late 40s, I think, single, no children. Her mother died unexpectedly. She and I were sitting on a bench outside during a lunch break one day about a week or two later. She seemed to be handling it well, so I was surprised when she brought up that she couldn't sleep, felt very depressed, like why bother with anything, nothing matters. She just didn't want to do anything any more.
I asked if she had any other family, and she said no, that she was an only child, and that her father had died several years ago. Her father's death hadn't bothered her so much and she couldn't understand why, because she was actually closer to him.
I said maybe it's because now you feel like an orphan?
Her eyes got huge, and she turned slowly to me. Yes! Exactly! Orphan! I'm an orphan! And the elephant sat on her and she cried.
I don't think consolation, condolences, are supposed to make people cry. They're supposed to smile wanly and say thank you.
Sympathy. I'm doing it wrong.
.
Folks who rejoice that "The system works!"
are usually referring to another's parking ticket, not their own.
----------------------------------------------------
I have a friend whose mother has been declining steadily for the past five years. His older sister died about two years ago after months in a coma, and they never told the mother that her daughter was even ill because they didn't think she could handle it. Although she doesn't have Alzheimer's, she's far enough into dementia that they figured she wouldn't notice.
He called me the other day to say he's headed for Florida, because they figure there's not more than a few days left. She's on morphine, and that has a habit of easing people out.
He'll call me when she's gone.
Of course I've been thinking about what to say when he calls. That's always so awkward. When his sister died it wasn't difficult because her death was a relief. She was basically vegetative after multiple strokes. The doctors recommended taking her off life support, and everyone agreed except her son, who started legal action to prevent it. So she lingered for almost a year, until someone "found" her living will and health proxy among her files. (It was my idea, by the way, that if they looked for it, maybe they'd find it, or "find" it if necessary. I don't know the details, how they managed it.) So when he called to say he had pulled the plug, I said good, I'm sure she appreciated it, and that was the right thing to say, and it wasn't difficult because that was his attitude.
This is going to be much harder for him. He's the only son (several sisters) and was/is very much an Irish Catholic momma's boy.
I never know what to say to friends and coworkers. "Sorry for your loss" seems so trite. Mostly, I'm afraid, I don't say much of anything. In most cases, I didn't know the deceased person, so it's hard to "share memories" like all the columns suggest.
There are a few times when I went further than the simple sympathetic nod, and I don't know whether it was good or bad. I have a tendency to miss, or ignore, that sometimes people know things, but are avoiding or hiding it. Then I go and point it out. I draw attention to the elephant in the room. I do that a lot. It's seldom appreciated.
The Hairless Hunk's wife had a miscarriage. H.H. told me that she was having a lot of difficulty with it, and he didn't know what to do about it. I told him that I understood, that I'd had three miscarriages and a stillbirth, and it's a very private anguish because no one else understands.
Now, at the time, I didn't know her at all. The only time I'd ever seen her was on the road. She walked a lot. One day shortly after my talk with H.H., she was turning at the end of the road as I was pulling into the driveway, and she waved for me to stop. I rolled down the window, and she said that H.H. had said I'd had some miscarriages, and that she should talk to me. She said she was having a lot of trouble getting past it, and that everyone says she should just get pregnant again as soon as possible, and how that just makes her feel worse, like the baby didn't matter, and she doesn't want another pregnancy. She asked how I'd got past it.
I told her that the problem is that to everyone else, the baby was just an idea. She's the only person who actually knew the baby. To her, and only to her, the baby was a real person, with preferences, likes and dislikes. She knew when he was asleep and when he was awake. She knew his nap/exercise cycle. She felt his arms and legs moving. She knew whether he was a runner or a kicker. She even knew what kind of music he liked, and how he liked to be rocked, and when he had hiccups. Nobody else knows that. To them, the baby was just potential, just an idea. To them, starting another baby is just getting on with the idea.
She burst into tears. "Yes! Yes! Exactly!" She cried so hard it scared me.
I advised her to write up everything she knew about the baby's personality, and then either tell H.H. and her parents, or let them read what she'd written. Make the baby real, as real to them as he was to her.
H.H. wondered what I'd said to her. I guess she was a mess after that conversation, cried constantly for days. I don't know whether she "made the baby real" to others or not, but she was pregnant with twins within a year.
For a long time after, I wonder if I'd helped or just made it worse. Maybe the elephant would have wandered off on its own. I can argue either side.
Another time involved a classmate in a law class. She was an IBM Director in her late 40s, I think, single, no children. Her mother died unexpectedly. She and I were sitting on a bench outside during a lunch break one day about a week or two later. She seemed to be handling it well, so I was surprised when she brought up that she couldn't sleep, felt very depressed, like why bother with anything, nothing matters. She just didn't want to do anything any more.
I asked if she had any other family, and she said no, that she was an only child, and that her father had died several years ago. Her father's death hadn't bothered her so much and she couldn't understand why, because she was actually closer to him.
I said maybe it's because now you feel like an orphan?
Her eyes got huge, and she turned slowly to me. Yes! Exactly! Orphan! I'm an orphan! And the elephant sat on her and she cried.
I don't think consolation, condolences, are supposed to make people cry. They're supposed to smile wanly and say thank you.
Sympathy. I'm doing it wrong.
.
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
3239 Situational Summary
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
I had the blood draw last week. As usual, I told the phlebotomist about my problem with sticks in the arm, that the hand works better, as usual she blew me off and went for the arm, "Oh, this won't hurt at all", as usual it felt like a branding iron and the nails on my other hand gripped the armrest so hard I punctured the fabric-backed vinyl upholstery. She seemed surprised. That's absolutely the last time I will be ignored. It will never happen again. That is a vow. I'll refuse and walk out if they don't listen to me.
The next day, Friday, I went in for the CT scan and x-rays. The X-ray technician took a several shots, then came out of his little room and asked if I was in pain. I was perfectly relaxed, lying on the machine bed, eyes closed, silent, almost asleep. I said, "No, should I be?" He didn't answer, went back behind his partition and took several more, moving me a little now and then. So now I'm worried. What might he have seen that would prompt him to ask if I was in pain? Why did he take so many more pictures than were necessary?
I hope I'll find out tomorrow at the urologist's appointment. I've had no calls, so I suppose there's nothing too very exciting. Probably just another stone on the right side.
I've got a few things bothering me right now (not the health stuff, that's just annoying) and I have no one I can talk with about it. It's big, family-type things that have been growing for thirty years and coming to a head now. It's a little depressing, because I don't know what to do about it.
I'd really like to talk with The Man, but he's being a bit distant right now. He's got his reasons, but it's still another bothersome thing, but not the biggest.
Another bothersome thing is a cash flow problem. I sold stock from portfolios in my own name, not the investment portfolio Piper manages, to buy this house, and what Piper doesn't seem to realize is that much of my income was dividend checks from that stock. So my income is down by 25%, but I'm paying utilities and taxes on two houses now. I'm not going to starve, but I'm scrambling to pay the bills without selling more stock and cutting my income even more.
I canceled the house phone at the old house. The monthly bill for that phone was less than $30, but I don't need it anymore. So I freaked when I got the final bill, and it was $280! They charged me $250 for "Tier 1 Auto Renewal Termination Fee"! What!? What the hell is that!?
So I called. They said I had agreed to some special low-cost plan that had an early termination fee. I asked when this plan was supposed to end. The guy said "In five weeks." I said, that makes it the first week in May? He said yes. I freaked. "That means I signed up for it last May? Last May I was aware I would be moving. At that time I thought I'd be moving in the fall. There's no way on this God's earth a) that I would sign up for ANY plan with an early termination fee if there's any other option, b) that I would agree to that when I knew I'd be moving. There's something very wrong here."
So he checked. Turns out that I'd agreed to the plan several years ago (and I'm positive no "termination fee" had been mentioned), and the plan is automatically renewed every year. I pointed out that after the first contract term, you can no longer charge a termination fee without active renewal of the agreement. Automatic renewal changes the terms to monthly. Plus, even if the fee still existed, when I called to terminate service, the rep should have mentioned it. She didn't. There's no way I am going to pay $250 for 5 weeks of non-service when I could have just paid the $40 five more weeks would have cost!
So he forgave the $250.
I wonder how many people would go ahead and pay it? That's a complete ripoff.
[Update: Wow! I found this article dated October 2009, that says the NY Attorney General went after Frontier and told them they couldn't charge the termination fee without telling customers it existed, and they couldn't charge it on auto-renewals, and they had to refund all those fees they had collected! Wow! And they're STILL DOING IT!!! I think maybe I'll write a letter to the NY Attorney General.]
The Hairless Hunk is taking a class about 25 minutes north of here this week, and Monday of next week. We got together for dinner on Monday. That was kind of a mess. We went to a Thai place near his hotel. I like Thai, and they had some really interesting things on the menu, but the table was very wide, and the place was very crowded and noisy, and I couldn't hear him, and I wasn't there for interesting food, I was there to talk, so we left and went looking for someplace else, and since neither of us knew anyplace we ended up at a truly yucky diner-but-not-a-diner with blah food. But at least the place was empty, and quiet.
I didn't mention any of the stuff that's been depressing me, but simply being able to be with someone who does care and would and could sympathize and offer advice if I asked for it, was enough. I feel a little better, although I still don't know what to do.
We had originally sort of planned that some evening he'd come down here and see the house. I figured it might be difficult because he'd probably have classwork in the evenings. Yesterday he called and said, yeah, stuff to read and memorize. Sad. I was looking forward to showing him the vehicle buried in the backyard (his comment was that I may have found Jimmy Hoffa).
Suzy the Suzuki is still at the old house. On a visit in February, I think, the first time all winter that she wasn't buried in snow, The Hunk and I started her. I was pleased that she started right up with no hesitation, but then she started blowing gray smoke out of the vents, something was burning, so I turned her off. We checked for beasty nests in the engine compartment, but didn't find anything obvious. I need to get her down here. My cars still all have NY plates. I've got to get them inspected and registered here, but I don't want to do that until they're all here, because otherwise it will complicate the insurance. BUT, Hal is due for inspection this month! Ack.
The Hunk and I had discussed my going back with him on Friday evening, then I can spend two days working at the old house and get Suzy into the shop on Monday, and then bring her back. BUT, that doesn't work because that leaves me stranded at the old house with no car until Suzy is fixed, and there's no guarantee on that. Plus, Hercules goes back to work on Monday, and I had promised Daughter I'd be here to help when she's suddenly alone with the baby.
It would be best if I could drive myself up there this week and arrange for Suzy's fixing now, and then, assuming she's ready to go by Tuesday, I could go back with The Hunk after his class on Monday, and drive Suzy back here Tuesday. BUT I have the urologist's appointment tomorrow, and I don't know what will happen then.
If I don't go back with The Hunk on Monday, I won't be able to bring Suzy down until Piper and his daughter visit and I can go back up with them.
I've got a feeling that somehow this is going to end up involving either a rental car or an insurance mess.
Seems like nothing is going smoothly these days. All these nit-pickin' minnow nibbles --- and I still have the big "unmentioned" problem that's going nowhere.
.
Divorce is tortious, tortuous, and torturous.
-- Silk --
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
-- Silk --
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
I had the blood draw last week. As usual, I told the phlebotomist about my problem with sticks in the arm, that the hand works better, as usual she blew me off and went for the arm, "Oh, this won't hurt at all", as usual it felt like a branding iron and the nails on my other hand gripped the armrest so hard I punctured the fabric-backed vinyl upholstery. She seemed surprised. That's absolutely the last time I will be ignored. It will never happen again. That is a vow. I'll refuse and walk out if they don't listen to me.
The next day, Friday, I went in for the CT scan and x-rays. The X-ray technician took a several shots, then came out of his little room and asked if I was in pain. I was perfectly relaxed, lying on the machine bed, eyes closed, silent, almost asleep. I said, "No, should I be?" He didn't answer, went back behind his partition and took several more, moving me a little now and then. So now I'm worried. What might he have seen that would prompt him to ask if I was in pain? Why did he take so many more pictures than were necessary?
I hope I'll find out tomorrow at the urologist's appointment. I've had no calls, so I suppose there's nothing too very exciting. Probably just another stone on the right side.
I've got a few things bothering me right now (not the health stuff, that's just annoying) and I have no one I can talk with about it. It's big, family-type things that have been growing for thirty years and coming to a head now. It's a little depressing, because I don't know what to do about it.
I'd really like to talk with The Man, but he's being a bit distant right now. He's got his reasons, but it's still another bothersome thing, but not the biggest.
Another bothersome thing is a cash flow problem. I sold stock from portfolios in my own name, not the investment portfolio Piper manages, to buy this house, and what Piper doesn't seem to realize is that much of my income was dividend checks from that stock. So my income is down by 25%, but I'm paying utilities and taxes on two houses now. I'm not going to starve, but I'm scrambling to pay the bills without selling more stock and cutting my income even more.
I canceled the house phone at the old house. The monthly bill for that phone was less than $30, but I don't need it anymore. So I freaked when I got the final bill, and it was $280! They charged me $250 for "Tier 1 Auto Renewal Termination Fee"! What!? What the hell is that!?
So I called. They said I had agreed to some special low-cost plan that had an early termination fee. I asked when this plan was supposed to end. The guy said "In five weeks." I said, that makes it the first week in May? He said yes. I freaked. "That means I signed up for it last May? Last May I was aware I would be moving. At that time I thought I'd be moving in the fall. There's no way on this God's earth a) that I would sign up for ANY plan with an early termination fee if there's any other option, b) that I would agree to that when I knew I'd be moving. There's something very wrong here."
So he checked. Turns out that I'd agreed to the plan several years ago (and I'm positive no "termination fee" had been mentioned), and the plan is automatically renewed every year. I pointed out that after the first contract term, you can no longer charge a termination fee without active renewal of the agreement. Automatic renewal changes the terms to monthly. Plus, even if the fee still existed, when I called to terminate service, the rep should have mentioned it. She didn't. There's no way I am going to pay $250 for 5 weeks of non-service when I could have just paid the $40 five more weeks would have cost!
So he forgave the $250.
I wonder how many people would go ahead and pay it? That's a complete ripoff.
[Update: Wow! I found this article dated October 2009, that says the NY Attorney General went after Frontier and told them they couldn't charge the termination fee without telling customers it existed, and they couldn't charge it on auto-renewals, and they had to refund all those fees they had collected! Wow! And they're STILL DOING IT!!! I think maybe I'll write a letter to the NY Attorney General.]
The Hairless Hunk is taking a class about 25 minutes north of here this week, and Monday of next week. We got together for dinner on Monday. That was kind of a mess. We went to a Thai place near his hotel. I like Thai, and they had some really interesting things on the menu, but the table was very wide, and the place was very crowded and noisy, and I couldn't hear him, and I wasn't there for interesting food, I was there to talk, so we left and went looking for someplace else, and since neither of us knew anyplace we ended up at a truly yucky diner-but-not-a-diner with blah food. But at least the place was empty, and quiet.
I didn't mention any of the stuff that's been depressing me, but simply being able to be with someone who does care and would and could sympathize and offer advice if I asked for it, was enough. I feel a little better, although I still don't know what to do.
We had originally sort of planned that some evening he'd come down here and see the house. I figured it might be difficult because he'd probably have classwork in the evenings. Yesterday he called and said, yeah, stuff to read and memorize. Sad. I was looking forward to showing him the vehicle buried in the backyard (his comment was that I may have found Jimmy Hoffa).
Suzy the Suzuki is still at the old house. On a visit in February, I think, the first time all winter that she wasn't buried in snow, The Hunk and I started her. I was pleased that she started right up with no hesitation, but then she started blowing gray smoke out of the vents, something was burning, so I turned her off. We checked for beasty nests in the engine compartment, but didn't find anything obvious. I need to get her down here. My cars still all have NY plates. I've got to get them inspected and registered here, but I don't want to do that until they're all here, because otherwise it will complicate the insurance. BUT, Hal is due for inspection this month! Ack.
The Hunk and I had discussed my going back with him on Friday evening, then I can spend two days working at the old house and get Suzy into the shop on Monday, and then bring her back. BUT, that doesn't work because that leaves me stranded at the old house with no car until Suzy is fixed, and there's no guarantee on that. Plus, Hercules goes back to work on Monday, and I had promised Daughter I'd be here to help when she's suddenly alone with the baby.
It would be best if I could drive myself up there this week and arrange for Suzy's fixing now, and then, assuming she's ready to go by Tuesday, I could go back with The Hunk after his class on Monday, and drive Suzy back here Tuesday. BUT I have the urologist's appointment tomorrow, and I don't know what will happen then.
If I don't go back with The Hunk on Monday, I won't be able to bring Suzy down until Piper and his daughter visit and I can go back up with them.
I've got a feeling that somehow this is going to end up involving either a rental car or an insurance mess.
Seems like nothing is going smoothly these days. All these nit-pickin' minnow nibbles --- and I still have the big "unmentioned" problem that's going nowhere.
.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
3218 Thoughts on despair
Saturday, April 16, 2011
In a recent post I took issue with the declaration that this is the greatest nation in the history of the world (or maybe the phrase was "that the world has ever known", whatever).
I'll back that up.
The US spends less on infrastructure than any other developed nation, by far. Other nations spend three to five times as much.
Our dams, roads, and bridges are deteriorating.
Generating plants of all kinds are aging and inefficient, and we aren't seriously considering the development of alternate sources of energy.
Railroads are falling apart. We have no high speed rail. Every time it comes up, it's stomped down. In Europe, you can get anywhere you have to go by train and bus, quickly and cheaply, and even in Asia trains are efficient. And fast.
All of our materials are transported all the way across the continent by truck! That's incredibly inefficient, given how little one truck can carry, the amount of gasoline it requires to do it, and the amount of additional wear on the roads. Trains can do it quickly and cheaply, with trucks used only for local delivery.
We may have good doctors and hospitals, and medical research, but only if you are rich. The average citizen can't afford decent medical care. And even if you can afford it, many treatments and options available in the rest of the world aren't allowed here.
We don't take care of our elderly. It's a scandal the way we turn our backs on them.
All we're really good at is making money and waging war. And the top 1% makes all the money while the bottom 50% does all the dying.
This is not "great".
-------------------------------
I have enormous admiration for the Japanese people. In all they've been through, the devastation, the dislocation, note that there has been no looting. None. A shortage of food? Rather than grab and run, they share. Looting from destroyed homes and stores? They have actually gathered salvageable bits and pieces and put them in small bins in reclamation centers, where people can go and look for their belongings and claim them. They have centers where people are cleaning found photographs and then posting them on a bulletin board so people can find them. People stand very patiently in long lines, waiting for food distribution. No pushing, crowding, or shoving.
And then there are the people who volunteered to work in the damaged reactors, with the certainty of early death, but no promise of reward beyond the knowledge that they are helping the country and their people. I can't imagine that anywhere else.
The Japanese people are working together for the good of all, and they don't seem to be aware there is any other way to act.
(Yeah, ok, I know about what they did in China, and in WWII, and whatever else "Jap Haters" want to bring up, which is also an outgrowth of the culture. Go away.)
-------------------------------
Every single time I have gone north to the old house, The Hairless Hunk has seen me, even if I didn't see him. It's getting creepy.
I drive past his house on the way to my house, and I always automatically look to see if he's working in the yard, or if his vehicle is there. Mostly I don't see him --- but he always sees me. Often he passes going the opposite direction on the road. It's weird.
Last Tuesday, I took the tax documents to Piper's office in the village, but I didn't go to the old house, which is 2 miles farther north. I was in the village, in Piper's office, then walking with Piper up the street a little less than a block to the diner, then back down to my car outside Piper's office, then I left to head back south.
The next day, I got an email from THH that he'd seen me in the village!
It's like he has a GPS tracker on me or something. ESP. Strange.
--------------------------------
I guess everyone has heard by now about the young woman who drove her car, with her four children in it, off a boat ramp and into the Hudson River in N3wburgh, NY, last Tuesday evening. The oldest of the four kids was 10, and he managed to get out of the sinking car and swam to shore.
And people are wondering why?
She was 25 years old (although I've also heard 24). The oldest of her four children was 10. That means she was pregnant at 14 (or 13), which means she likely has no education, training, or skills to support herself and her children. She was married to the father of her youngest three, but I gather he was not living with her. She had recently moved to N3wburgh, into an apartment in a slummy area of God-forsaken N3wburgh (if you've ever been there, you'd know what I mean. The newspaper describes it as a "humble river city").
According to neighbors, she was a good mother, and had a job. There was apparently a "domestic dispute" that evening. She finally had confirmation that her husband was not only cheating on her, but had been a serial cheater all along.
This is speculation, but I think I can figure it out. The husband had probably left her wherever they had lived and "went north" to find work, so he could support her and the children. That happens a lot. She probably moved to N3wburgh because she didn't like the separation. He'd been able to hide the girlfriend(s), but now he couldn't. He didn't want to move in with her. She suddenly realized that she couldn't count on him any longer.
What else is there to understand? Her world collapsed and she could see no other possibilities.
.
Credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.
-----------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------
In a recent post I took issue with the declaration that this is the greatest nation in the history of the world (or maybe the phrase was "that the world has ever known", whatever).
I'll back that up.
The US spends less on infrastructure than any other developed nation, by far. Other nations spend three to five times as much.
Our dams, roads, and bridges are deteriorating.
Generating plants of all kinds are aging and inefficient, and we aren't seriously considering the development of alternate sources of energy.
Railroads are falling apart. We have no high speed rail. Every time it comes up, it's stomped down. In Europe, you can get anywhere you have to go by train and bus, quickly and cheaply, and even in Asia trains are efficient. And fast.
All of our materials are transported all the way across the continent by truck! That's incredibly inefficient, given how little one truck can carry, the amount of gasoline it requires to do it, and the amount of additional wear on the roads. Trains can do it quickly and cheaply, with trucks used only for local delivery.
We may have good doctors and hospitals, and medical research, but only if you are rich. The average citizen can't afford decent medical care. And even if you can afford it, many treatments and options available in the rest of the world aren't allowed here.
We don't take care of our elderly. It's a scandal the way we turn our backs on them.
All we're really good at is making money and waging war. And the top 1% makes all the money while the bottom 50% does all the dying.
This is not "great".
-------------------------------
I have enormous admiration for the Japanese people. In all they've been through, the devastation, the dislocation, note that there has been no looting. None. A shortage of food? Rather than grab and run, they share. Looting from destroyed homes and stores? They have actually gathered salvageable bits and pieces and put them in small bins in reclamation centers, where people can go and look for their belongings and claim them. They have centers where people are cleaning found photographs and then posting them on a bulletin board so people can find them. People stand very patiently in long lines, waiting for food distribution. No pushing, crowding, or shoving.
And then there are the people who volunteered to work in the damaged reactors, with the certainty of early death, but no promise of reward beyond the knowledge that they are helping the country and their people. I can't imagine that anywhere else.
The Japanese people are working together for the good of all, and they don't seem to be aware there is any other way to act.
(Yeah, ok, I know about what they did in China, and in WWII, and whatever else "Jap Haters" want to bring up, which is also an outgrowth of the culture. Go away.)
-------------------------------
Every single time I have gone north to the old house, The Hairless Hunk has seen me, even if I didn't see him. It's getting creepy.
I drive past his house on the way to my house, and I always automatically look to see if he's working in the yard, or if his vehicle is there. Mostly I don't see him --- but he always sees me. Often he passes going the opposite direction on the road. It's weird.
Last Tuesday, I took the tax documents to Piper's office in the village, but I didn't go to the old house, which is 2 miles farther north. I was in the village, in Piper's office, then walking with Piper up the street a little less than a block to the diner, then back down to my car outside Piper's office, then I left to head back south.
The next day, I got an email from THH that he'd seen me in the village!
It's like he has a GPS tracker on me or something. ESP. Strange.
--------------------------------
I guess everyone has heard by now about the young woman who drove her car, with her four children in it, off a boat ramp and into the Hudson River in N3wburgh, NY, last Tuesday evening. The oldest of the four kids was 10, and he managed to get out of the sinking car and swam to shore.
And people are wondering why?
She was 25 years old (although I've also heard 24). The oldest of her four children was 10. That means she was pregnant at 14 (or 13), which means she likely has no education, training, or skills to support herself and her children. She was married to the father of her youngest three, but I gather he was not living with her. She had recently moved to N3wburgh, into an apartment in a slummy area of God-forsaken N3wburgh (if you've ever been there, you'd know what I mean. The newspaper describes it as a "humble river city").
According to neighbors, she was a good mother, and had a job. There was apparently a "domestic dispute" that evening. She finally had confirmation that her husband was not only cheating on her, but had been a serial cheater all along.
This is speculation, but I think I can figure it out. The husband had probably left her wherever they had lived and "went north" to find work, so he could support her and the children. That happens a lot. She probably moved to N3wburgh because she didn't like the separation. He'd been able to hide the girlfriend(s), but now he couldn't. He didn't want to move in with her. She suddenly realized that she couldn't count on him any longer.
What else is there to understand? Her world collapsed and she could see no other possibilities.
.
Thursday, March 03, 2011
3179 Best Laid Plans, blah blah
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Remember I said we nonprofessionals can be forgiven errors, but professionals must be held to a higher standard? This is from www.fox40.com/news a few days ago, about a herd of goats that got loose on a highway: "After nearly 20 hours of wandering, and wrecking havoc, around 60 nannies and billies are back under control."
Listen my children, and learn. "Havoc" is a state of chaos. It IS a wreck. So it doesn't make any sense to "wreck" havoc. The word the writer was looking for was "wreak". You wreak havoc. The two words are even pronounced differently. Another case of someone having heard and then used an expression without thinking about, let alone understanding, it.
--------------------------------
Tuesday I headed north to the old house with the newly patched up Fred. His pink leak was transmission fluid, seals now fixed. I filled some more garbage bags, and packed up more stuff to bring south. I was very tired by 8 pm, went to bed with some crossword puzzles, and was asleep within minutes.
I had brought some things for Wednesday's breakfast and mid-morning snack, but needed to go out for lunch, so when I went into the village, I stopped in at Piper's office. Piper wasn't there, but his daughter was, and she said he'd gone to the Italian restaurant for takeout for their lunch. She called him, and he said he'd bring back her sandwich, and then he'd go to lunch with me.
Fine. But.
It took him a half hour to return, and then there were "a few things to be done" before we could go to the diner, and my one hour allotted for lunch (including the drive) turned into two and a half. Or more. I wanted to leave to head back south by 5 pm, and didn't get back to the house to load the van until 3.
When I arrived back at the old house after lunch with Piper, The Hairless Hunk followed me up the driveway. I would have liked to talk more with him, but I really needed to load the van and get moving, so I'm afraid I gave him short shrift.
I got back to the new house about 7 pm last night, parked Fred and turned him off, and ... his tail lights stayed on. His lights stay on for a while when you turn him off, so I didn't notice at first, until I went out for a cigarette about an hour later and wondered what the red glow on the driveway behind him was.
I tried everything I could think of - turned headlights on and off, tried the emergency brake on an off, started him and tried turn signals and then turned him off, but the tail lights stayed on.
Ack! Battery! Death of!
I went into the house to get his book (still in the house from when I was looking up his pink fluids), and when I came back out, the lights were off.
I had a slew of things to do today, like take a load of fabric to the storage facility, pick up a 4' stepladder at Home Depot, deposit some checks, grocery shop, pick up a "raincheck" order at the CVS, and so on. Most of it didn't get done because I had to go to the dealership and get Fred's lights fixed. And yup, again they stayed on when I turned him off.
Turns out it was some of his handicap wiring had rubbed some regular wiring, and caused a short in the switch. $208.33 and a few hours later, the switch was replaced.
In the service department waiting room, I was reading a Time magazine, and another woman about my age was reading a book. A man came in, also about our age, sat between us, and made a cell phone call. A very LOUD chatty call. It was impossible to read. Hey, he's our age! He should know better! When he finished that call, and then dialed another, I slapped the magazine on my thigh, and the other woman slammed her book closed and slapped the cover, we glanced at each other, and glared at him. I said to her, very loudly, (I had to be loud to be heard over him), "Well, maybe we could read aloud." It didn't seem to faze him, but maybe, because he talked only a few more minutes before saying, "I'll call you later" and hanging up.
He has to be the most dense man ever, because even though I had gone back to my magazine and was engrossed, he then proceeded to "chat me up." He got one-word responses. He finally took the hint and moved to the sales area.
Too bad. He was actually kind of good looking.
I never did make it to the grocery store or the CVS. Ice cream for dinner!
.
Pardoning the bad is injuring the good.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Remember I said we nonprofessionals can be forgiven errors, but professionals must be held to a higher standard? This is from www.fox40.com/news a few days ago, about a herd of goats that got loose on a highway: "After nearly 20 hours of wandering, and wrecking havoc, around 60 nannies and billies are back under control."
Listen my children, and learn. "Havoc" is a state of chaos. It IS a wreck. So it doesn't make any sense to "wreck" havoc. The word the writer was looking for was "wreak". You wreak havoc. The two words are even pronounced differently. Another case of someone having heard and then used an expression without thinking about, let alone understanding, it.
--------------------------------
Tuesday I headed north to the old house with the newly patched up Fred. His pink leak was transmission fluid, seals now fixed. I filled some more garbage bags, and packed up more stuff to bring south. I was very tired by 8 pm, went to bed with some crossword puzzles, and was asleep within minutes.
I had brought some things for Wednesday's breakfast and mid-morning snack, but needed to go out for lunch, so when I went into the village, I stopped in at Piper's office. Piper wasn't there, but his daughter was, and she said he'd gone to the Italian restaurant for takeout for their lunch. She called him, and he said he'd bring back her sandwich, and then he'd go to lunch with me.
Fine. But.
It took him a half hour to return, and then there were "a few things to be done" before we could go to the diner, and my one hour allotted for lunch (including the drive) turned into two and a half. Or more. I wanted to leave to head back south by 5 pm, and didn't get back to the house to load the van until 3.
When I arrived back at the old house after lunch with Piper, The Hairless Hunk followed me up the driveway. I would have liked to talk more with him, but I really needed to load the van and get moving, so I'm afraid I gave him short shrift.
I got back to the new house about 7 pm last night, parked Fred and turned him off, and ... his tail lights stayed on. His lights stay on for a while when you turn him off, so I didn't notice at first, until I went out for a cigarette about an hour later and wondered what the red glow on the driveway behind him was.
I tried everything I could think of - turned headlights on and off, tried the emergency brake on an off, started him and tried turn signals and then turned him off, but the tail lights stayed on.
Ack! Battery! Death of!
I went into the house to get his book (still in the house from when I was looking up his pink fluids), and when I came back out, the lights were off.
I had a slew of things to do today, like take a load of fabric to the storage facility, pick up a 4' stepladder at Home Depot, deposit some checks, grocery shop, pick up a "raincheck" order at the CVS, and so on. Most of it didn't get done because I had to go to the dealership and get Fred's lights fixed. And yup, again they stayed on when I turned him off.
Turns out it was some of his handicap wiring had rubbed some regular wiring, and caused a short in the switch. $208.33 and a few hours later, the switch was replaced.
In the service department waiting room, I was reading a Time magazine, and another woman about my age was reading a book. A man came in, also about our age, sat between us, and made a cell phone call. A very LOUD chatty call. It was impossible to read. Hey, he's our age! He should know better! When he finished that call, and then dialed another, I slapped the magazine on my thigh, and the other woman slammed her book closed and slapped the cover, we glanced at each other, and glared at him. I said to her, very loudly, (I had to be loud to be heard over him), "Well, maybe we could read aloud." It didn't seem to faze him, but maybe, because he talked only a few more minutes before saying, "I'll call you later" and hanging up.
He has to be the most dense man ever, because even though I had gone back to my magazine and was engrossed, he then proceeded to "chat me up." He got one-word responses. He finally took the hint and moved to the sales area.
Too bad. He was actually kind of good looking.
I never did make it to the grocery store or the CVS. Ice cream for dinner!
.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
3168 Life is what happens when you're not looking
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Got this one from my sister - Homemade Implants:
--------------------------------
I haven't been here in a few days. Haven't really been keeping up with others' blogs, either. I guess I've been busy.
Thursday evening I drove northwest to have dinner with the Southern Orange Mensa sub-group. It was supposed to be a 1.5 hour drive, but it took two because I followed the GPS, and he took me down tiny roads, through areas with traffic lights every quarter mile, during rush hour, finishing up with a narrow winding road through the mountains, in the dark. It took two harrowing hours, which, given the route and time of day, was pretty good time. I don't think I'll use the GPS for that trip any more. I'll go north on the highways, then ask his opinion just for the cut over to the west.
After leaving there, I drove northeast another 1.25 hours to the old house.
On Friday I filled more bags and boxes to throw out, recycle, sell, and bring back here. It's still pretty overwhelming. I visited Piper and his daughter at their office before heading back here. Piper was pretty low. His favorite sister had gone into the hospital for surgery in early January, and picked up a MRSA infection that rapidly shut down organs, starting with her kidneys. It's been touch and go since then.
He'd gotten the call Thursday afternoon that she had maybe 48 hours, so he and his niece were wait-listed on a flight to Florida early Saturday morning. Holiday weekend. Bad for travel. Piper's elderly mother is in poor health, and the family had not told her that her daughter was so ill, hoping for a miracle to make it unnecessary, so now Piper is worried about what this will do to his mother.
And, as if all that isn't enough, it looks like his housemate may be having a recurrence of breast cancer.
Not a good week for Piper.
We went to the diner for coffee, and ended up eating an early dinner.
--------------------------------
Just before meeting with Piper, as I was putting the last things into the car, The Hunk came barreling up the driveway. (It's funny, but whenever I see him driving up, he looks like a Mountie.) We talked for a while. It might have been longer, but I had to head down to Peter's office.
Anyway, the Suzy the Suzuki is still there, and he suggested that I start her. I haven't started her on the last few visits because she's been pretty much buried in snow. So, we stomped down the snow on the passenger side so we could get the door open, and I crawled across and started her. Good Girl! She started right up!
Then she started blowing smoke into the passenger cabin. Nothing coming out from under the hood, but definite smoke inside. Turned her off, checked under the hood, nothing burning. Gave it up for now. Next trip north we'll have to figure it out. Maybe a mouse nest in the heater? A belt rubbing? Whatever....
--------------------------------
Today I've been sorting and laundering and distributing what I brought back last night. Went out for lunch with Daughter. Trying to catch up with email, news, and blogs. The online Mensa groups have been buzzing all week with the Watson/Jeopardy thing. And having missed the first of this season's Survivor I had to watch it online.
Life goes on. I play catch up.
.
The philosophy of the school room in one generation
will be the philosophy of government in the next.
-- Abraham Lincoln --
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
will be the philosophy of government in the next.
-- Abraham Lincoln --
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Got this one from my sister - Homemade Implants:
--------------------------------
I haven't been here in a few days. Haven't really been keeping up with others' blogs, either. I guess I've been busy.
Thursday evening I drove northwest to have dinner with the Southern Orange Mensa sub-group. It was supposed to be a 1.5 hour drive, but it took two because I followed the GPS, and he took me down tiny roads, through areas with traffic lights every quarter mile, during rush hour, finishing up with a narrow winding road through the mountains, in the dark. It took two harrowing hours, which, given the route and time of day, was pretty good time. I don't think I'll use the GPS for that trip any more. I'll go north on the highways, then ask his opinion just for the cut over to the west.
After leaving there, I drove northeast another 1.25 hours to the old house.
On Friday I filled more bags and boxes to throw out, recycle, sell, and bring back here. It's still pretty overwhelming. I visited Piper and his daughter at their office before heading back here. Piper was pretty low. His favorite sister had gone into the hospital for surgery in early January, and picked up a MRSA infection that rapidly shut down organs, starting with her kidneys. It's been touch and go since then.
He'd gotten the call Thursday afternoon that she had maybe 48 hours, so he and his niece were wait-listed on a flight to Florida early Saturday morning. Holiday weekend. Bad for travel. Piper's elderly mother is in poor health, and the family had not told her that her daughter was so ill, hoping for a miracle to make it unnecessary, so now Piper is worried about what this will do to his mother.
And, as if all that isn't enough, it looks like his housemate may be having a recurrence of breast cancer.
Not a good week for Piper.
We went to the diner for coffee, and ended up eating an early dinner.
--------------------------------
Just before meeting with Piper, as I was putting the last things into the car, The Hunk came barreling up the driveway. (It's funny, but whenever I see him driving up, he looks like a Mountie.) We talked for a while. It might have been longer, but I had to head down to Peter's office.
Anyway, the Suzy the Suzuki is still there, and he suggested that I start her. I haven't started her on the last few visits because she's been pretty much buried in snow. So, we stomped down the snow on the passenger side so we could get the door open, and I crawled across and started her. Good Girl! She started right up!
Then she started blowing smoke into the passenger cabin. Nothing coming out from under the hood, but definite smoke inside. Turned her off, checked under the hood, nothing burning. Gave it up for now. Next trip north we'll have to figure it out. Maybe a mouse nest in the heater? A belt rubbing? Whatever....
--------------------------------
Today I've been sorting and laundering and distributing what I brought back last night. Went out for lunch with Daughter. Trying to catch up with email, news, and blogs. The online Mensa groups have been buzzing all week with the Watson/Jeopardy thing. And having missed the first of this season's Survivor I had to watch it online.
Life goes on. I play catch up.
.
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
3254 Short trip north
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
I used to watch Antiques Roadshow a lot. Now I catch it occasionally, accidentally. I think the British version is more interesting. I noticed a telling difference between the "tone" of the American and the British versions: the American appraisers tell the people what they could get for the item if they sold it; the British appraisers tell the people what they'd have to pay to buy a replacement, therefore what they should insure it for.
Actually, that's a cultural difference. It's a subtle difference in the way we define value.
--------------------------------
The only prescription I take is Synthroid, 50 MCG. Under my prescription plan, I have to get them through the mail. I get a three-month prescription with three refills. When I get down to the last 10 pills, I go online and tell MedCo to send the next three-month batch.
Early last month, I went to the website to order more, and discovered there were no more refills. I need a new prescription.
I don't have a doctor here yet.
So I called my old doctor and asked if they could please send me one month's prescription, and that would give me time to find a doctor here.
No go.
She said I hadn't had a physical exam in two years, and I'd have to come in. Period.
I was a little confused, because I remember a LOT of blood drawn last year about this time, lots of visits, but she said yes, but that didn't include a physical. The next appointment I could get was February 7th. That meant no Synthroid for at least three to four weeks. My other choice would be to attempt to find a doctor here who is not only taking new patients, but would accept a new Medicare patient, and then I'd still have to get a physical and wait for the TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) blood level results, blah blah.
So, yesterday I drove the 2.5 hours north for a physical.
My appointment was at 1 PM. I got to the village at 12:25, so I stopped in to see Piper and his daughter. I figured I'd get to the doctor's office at 12:50, since I wouldn't have to fill out any papers or anything.
Surprise. Sometime in the past several months, my doctor's group merged with another group, and they have a new computer system. I had to fill out the 10 pages of "past surgeries, dates, all vitamins and supplements you take, insurance numbers, emergency family members, family medical history" - all that crap detail that I don't carry around in my head and hadn't brought with me.
Hey, folks. All that stuff is in your old database, AND in that paper folder you keep looking in. Couldn't you find some nerd to write a simple program to transfer data from the old to the new database? Couldn't youse guys input from the paper folder when you knew I was coming? At the very least, will you let me look at the paper folder, and just copy the crap onto this new form, instead of wracking my brain trying to remember?
No, no, and no.
I've got strong pulses in my hands and feet, good reflexes, nothing weird about my skin (except that it doesn't fit very well any more), no chest noise, no lumpiness anywhere, etc., got a PAP, and paper to take somewhere (where?) for a bone density scan and a mammogram. Blood was taken for I don't know what besides the TSH level, and they gave me a prescription for another year's Synthroid. I mentioned that my morning urine has been smelling very bad, so they're going to culture it. Pending the blood, urine, PAP, bone density, and mammogram results, I was declared in marvelous condition for such a decrepit old bat.
Then I went to the old house. I had the little BMW, not the van, because freezing rain was predicted for overnight, so I couldn't bring much back, but I picked up a few things I had been missing, like more dishes, my moisturizer which I haven't been able to find around here, measuring cups, some books, etc. I turned the well pump off, just in case. And I set some mouse traps. That may have been a mistake. If I don't get back there soon, everything might smell of dead mouse. Well, that's not an odor I haven't dealt with before.
Then I went back to Piper's office to finish the earlier conversations. They had a meeting at 4:30, so I left at 4:15, and that's when I realized that if I headed south then, I'd be getting to The Oranges at about 5:45 - a very bad time, traffic-wise. So I decided to go to the diner for something to eat.
I hadn't ordered yet when my phone rang. It was The Hairless Hunk. He said he'd seen a little black convertible go by, and figured it had to be me. "Who else but you would drive a beautiful little car like that on this sloppy salty road?" The phone conversation was getting long, and I was uncomfortable talking in the diner, so I invited him to the diner for coffee.
As usual, we talked. And talked. I don't know if he's starved for conversation, or if he's always like that. It's amazing how much time we can talk, and never seem to run out of topics. We were still at the table three and a half hours later. Yeah, I kind of miss him. I don't want anything beyond a mild flirtation, but I really do like talking with him. Plus, he's pretty. Plus it's a boost to my ego to know that he finds me .... interesting. My daughter finds me boring.
It did rain on the drive back south, but it didn't freeze.
-------------------------------
When I was standing at the window in the doctor's office, a woman was talking to the other receptionist, and was annoyed to discover that her 1 o'clock appointment was at the other office, not this office. The two offices are about 5 miles apart. The receptionist said, "Well, if you just go there, you'll be only 5 minutes late. They won't mind." The woman snapped, "Oh, I don't care about their time. It's MY gas!"
I'm sorry, but I couldn't help saying to my receptionist, "I just drove 2 and a half hours for this appointment, and all I want is a refill of my prescription."
I'm unsympathetic.
Mainly because I don't believe their insistence on my coming in was for my health. I suspect they held my prescription hostage for their bottom line.
.
We kill people who kill people to show that killing people is wrong.
------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------
I used to watch Antiques Roadshow a lot. Now I catch it occasionally, accidentally. I think the British version is more interesting. I noticed a telling difference between the "tone" of the American and the British versions: the American appraisers tell the people what they could get for the item if they sold it; the British appraisers tell the people what they'd have to pay to buy a replacement, therefore what they should insure it for.
Actually, that's a cultural difference. It's a subtle difference in the way we define value.
--------------------------------
The only prescription I take is Synthroid, 50 MCG. Under my prescription plan, I have to get them through the mail. I get a three-month prescription with three refills. When I get down to the last 10 pills, I go online and tell MedCo to send the next three-month batch.
Early last month, I went to the website to order more, and discovered there were no more refills. I need a new prescription.
I don't have a doctor here yet.
So I called my old doctor and asked if they could please send me one month's prescription, and that would give me time to find a doctor here.
No go.
She said I hadn't had a physical exam in two years, and I'd have to come in. Period.
I was a little confused, because I remember a LOT of blood drawn last year about this time, lots of visits, but she said yes, but that didn't include a physical. The next appointment I could get was February 7th. That meant no Synthroid for at least three to four weeks. My other choice would be to attempt to find a doctor here who is not only taking new patients, but would accept a new Medicare patient, and then I'd still have to get a physical and wait for the TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) blood level results, blah blah.
So, yesterday I drove the 2.5 hours north for a physical.
My appointment was at 1 PM. I got to the village at 12:25, so I stopped in to see Piper and his daughter. I figured I'd get to the doctor's office at 12:50, since I wouldn't have to fill out any papers or anything.
Surprise. Sometime in the past several months, my doctor's group merged with another group, and they have a new computer system. I had to fill out the 10 pages of "past surgeries, dates, all vitamins and supplements you take, insurance numbers, emergency family members, family medical history" - all that crap detail that I don't carry around in my head and hadn't brought with me.
Hey, folks. All that stuff is in your old database, AND in that paper folder you keep looking in. Couldn't you find some nerd to write a simple program to transfer data from the old to the new database? Couldn't youse guys input from the paper folder when you knew I was coming? At the very least, will you let me look at the paper folder, and just copy the crap onto this new form, instead of wracking my brain trying to remember?
No, no, and no.
I've got strong pulses in my hands and feet, good reflexes, nothing weird about my skin (except that it doesn't fit very well any more), no chest noise, no lumpiness anywhere, etc., got a PAP, and paper to take somewhere (where?) for a bone density scan and a mammogram. Blood was taken for I don't know what besides the TSH level, and they gave me a prescription for another year's Synthroid. I mentioned that my morning urine has been smelling very bad, so they're going to culture it. Pending the blood, urine, PAP, bone density, and mammogram results, I was declared in marvelous condition for such a decrepit old bat.
Then I went to the old house. I had the little BMW, not the van, because freezing rain was predicted for overnight, so I couldn't bring much back, but I picked up a few things I had been missing, like more dishes, my moisturizer which I haven't been able to find around here, measuring cups, some books, etc. I turned the well pump off, just in case. And I set some mouse traps. That may have been a mistake. If I don't get back there soon, everything might smell of dead mouse. Well, that's not an odor I haven't dealt with before.
Then I went back to Piper's office to finish the earlier conversations. They had a meeting at 4:30, so I left at 4:15, and that's when I realized that if I headed south then, I'd be getting to The Oranges at about 5:45 - a very bad time, traffic-wise. So I decided to go to the diner for something to eat.
I hadn't ordered yet when my phone rang. It was The Hairless Hunk. He said he'd seen a little black convertible go by, and figured it had to be me. "Who else but you would drive a beautiful little car like that on this sloppy salty road?" The phone conversation was getting long, and I was uncomfortable talking in the diner, so I invited him to the diner for coffee.
As usual, we talked. And talked. I don't know if he's starved for conversation, or if he's always like that. It's amazing how much time we can talk, and never seem to run out of topics. We were still at the table three and a half hours later. Yeah, I kind of miss him. I don't want anything beyond a mild flirtation, but I really do like talking with him. Plus, he's pretty. Plus it's a boost to my ego to know that he finds me .... interesting. My daughter finds me boring.
It did rain on the drive back south, but it didn't freeze.
-------------------------------
When I was standing at the window in the doctor's office, a woman was talking to the other receptionist, and was annoyed to discover that her 1 o'clock appointment was at the other office, not this office. The two offices are about 5 miles apart. The receptionist said, "Well, if you just go there, you'll be only 5 minutes late. They won't mind." The woman snapped, "Oh, I don't care about their time. It's MY gas!"
I'm sorry, but I couldn't help saying to my receptionist, "I just drove 2 and a half hours for this appointment, and all I want is a refill of my prescription."
I'm unsympathetic.
Mainly because I don't believe their insistence on my coming in was for my health. I suspect they held my prescription hostage for their bottom line.
.
Sunday, August 08, 2010
3047 Strange Plant, Familiar Bug
Sunday, August 8, 2010
The Hunk gave me some plants that were growing in his yard, to plant in my huge pots. He said they'd get large, and they had pretty blossoms.
I've looked in all my plant books, including the Audubon field guide to North American wildflowers, and the Peterson guide to edible wild plants, which details almost all wild plant groups, noting which are edible, inedible, or poisonous. There's nothing even remotely like these plants in any of my books. Not even a family they might belong to.
So. Anyone know what these might be? The flowers open in the afternoon and have a pleasant delicate scent. The leaves absolutely stink, really bad, and leave the smell on your hands if you touch them.
The big plant in the front, and another at the far end toward the left. The blossoms have a long trumpet. The Hunk says they form large seed pods. (Notice also the flamingos hiding off to the top right.)
I also found an insect on my garage door that I haven't seen in years:
It's a Walking Stick! At first I thought he was missing a pair of legs, but his hind pair are straight back along the end of his body. I guess he thinks it makes him look more like a stick. He's about five or six inches long, head to end of tail (not including legs).
.
Love longs for union.
---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
The Hunk gave me some plants that were growing in his yard, to plant in my huge pots. He said they'd get large, and they had pretty blossoms.
I've looked in all my plant books, including the Audubon field guide to North American wildflowers, and the Peterson guide to edible wild plants, which details almost all wild plant groups, noting which are edible, inedible, or poisonous. There's nothing even remotely like these plants in any of my books. Not even a family they might belong to.
So. Anyone know what these might be? The flowers open in the afternoon and have a pleasant delicate scent. The leaves absolutely stink, really bad, and leave the smell on your hands if you touch them.
The big plant in the front, and another at the far end toward the left. The blossoms have a long trumpet. The Hunk says they form large seed pods. (Notice also the flamingos hiding off to the top right.)
I also found an insect on my garage door that I haven't seen in years:
It's a Walking Stick! At first I thought he was missing a pair of legs, but his hind pair are straight back along the end of his body. I guess he thinks it makes him look more like a stick. He's about five or six inches long, head to end of tail (not including legs).
.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
1800 Grass!
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Grass! I've got grass!
The Hunk had finished grading the side yard, and had spread grass seed on the front half. He wanted to water it, but my water pressure isn't good enough. So he wanted to spread straw, but I said no, because it would then have to be raked up, and that's a pretty large area. So the grass seed just lay there on the ground. The Hunk was very pessimistic as to its chances, and worried because it was a few hundred dollars worth of seed. I assured him that Nature would do her thing, if the turkeys didn't eat the seed first. We had a little rain, off and on, but as of Tuesday, two days ago, the seed all still lay there. I examined it closely, and it looked like the Hunk might be right. No sprouting whatsoever.
Today there's grass! Real grass! Not just a little here and there, either. It's thick, and as long as my little finger! It's like magic! I didn't look as closely yesterday as on Tuesday, but I swear there was nothing visible yesterday.
I checked the back half, where I had spread the wildflower seeds, and there's still no action, but I have more hope now.
About two years ago, in a fit of rebellion against Roman, who had said something nasty about lawn flamingos, I bought a wholesale lot of about 30 of the freakin' things in a variety of sizes and poses. At the time, I couldn't put them in the lawn because the guys who mow would have to remove and replace them. I thought about putting them in the woods along the driveway, but the undergrowth got so thick they'd disappear. So they're sitting in boxes in the basement.
Ahah! The section of the graded woods where I planted the wildflowers will be perfect for a flock of flamingos! Peeking between the trees. Flowers to their knees. Visible to visitors from the top of the driveway. Pure kitsch! Competition for the turkeys!
When the Hunk sees it, he'll crack up. He already thinks I'm funny.
.
Grass! I've got grass!
The Hunk had finished grading the side yard, and had spread grass seed on the front half. He wanted to water it, but my water pressure isn't good enough. So he wanted to spread straw, but I said no, because it would then have to be raked up, and that's a pretty large area. So the grass seed just lay there on the ground. The Hunk was very pessimistic as to its chances, and worried because it was a few hundred dollars worth of seed. I assured him that Nature would do her thing, if the turkeys didn't eat the seed first. We had a little rain, off and on, but as of Tuesday, two days ago, the seed all still lay there. I examined it closely, and it looked like the Hunk might be right. No sprouting whatsoever.
Today there's grass! Real grass! Not just a little here and there, either. It's thick, and as long as my little finger! It's like magic! I didn't look as closely yesterday as on Tuesday, but I swear there was nothing visible yesterday.
I checked the back half, where I had spread the wildflower seeds, and there's still no action, but I have more hope now.
About two years ago, in a fit of rebellion against Roman, who had said something nasty about lawn flamingos, I bought a wholesale lot of about 30 of the freakin' things in a variety of sizes and poses. At the time, I couldn't put them in the lawn because the guys who mow would have to remove and replace them. I thought about putting them in the woods along the driveway, but the undergrowth got so thick they'd disappear. So they're sitting in boxes in the basement.
Ahah! The section of the graded woods where I planted the wildflowers will be perfect for a flock of flamingos! Peeking between the trees. Flowers to their knees. Visible to visitors from the top of the driveway. Pure kitsch! Competition for the turkeys!
When the Hunk sees it, he'll crack up. He already thinks I'm funny.
.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
1421 Sitting With Men
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Yesterday I had dinner with The Man, and we went to a karaoke bar.
I went to meet him with some trepidation, to tell the truth. He was supposed to leave on a trip yesterday, but he delayed leaving and asked me on Tuesday to meet him halfway (which would be about Newburgh) on Wednesday evening. We'd have a few hours together, then he'd be going home so he could head out this morning. He said he wanted to see me before leaving on what could be a stressful trip.
I guess I'm not very confident. He won't end our relationship (whatever it is, I'm not sure yet) by phone, email, or ignoring. He'd end it in person. So, since he wasn't planning to stay over, and he'd be driving three hours to spend less than 4 hours with me, I figured well, this must be it.
I guess I was wrong. He was open, affectionate, and attentive. I guess he just wanted a few smiles and strokes before going out to battle. I wished I had a long silk scarf to tie on his helmet.
Today I set out for the museum. I stopped at The Hairless Hunk's to pay for the past several mowings and got into an extended conversation with him, then went to the post office, and the grocery store (more cat food), and the bank, and then noticed that Piper's car was outside his office. He had been to Florida to visit his mother, so I decided to stop in and find out how she is.
His office door was locked, but the lights were on. That means he's at the cafe up the street or in the bar/bistro across the street.
I found him in the bar. Soused. He'd been doing shots. As usual, there were several guys there, his "buddies" (he knows everyone). He was very happy. And soused enough to be a bit overly affectionate toward me. I know he toys with the occasional thought of "us", but he knows I'm not encouraging him. He's already got a lady (which I remind him), and he'd quickly drive me crazy (which I don't tell him).
I decided to stay a while. He has to drive to Rockland for dinner, a retirement party for an old friend, and he needed sobering up, and his buddies weren't going to help with that. When I said "You're drunk!" he said he wasn't going to have any more, but while I was there, the buddies bought him three more shots. I got pretty thoroughly hugged and cheek-kissed, and over the next two hours he sang just about every Sinatra song to me. While holding my hand. His trip to Florida didn't go very well, and I tried to lure him back to his office with me and tell me about it, but he didn't want to leave.
Sigh.
When it was time for him to go to Rockland, he left. I offered to go with him, designated driver, etc., but he kept saying he was fine. Nothing else I could do about it short of calling the cops. Maybe I should have.
He's a terrible driver even sober, the concept of lanes is theoretical to him, he's easily distracted by thoughts and bright objects, but on the other hand he's never had an accident, so it's hard to argue with him.
I never made it to the museum.
.
Yesterday I had dinner with The Man, and we went to a karaoke bar.
I went to meet him with some trepidation, to tell the truth. He was supposed to leave on a trip yesterday, but he delayed leaving and asked me on Tuesday to meet him halfway (which would be about Newburgh) on Wednesday evening. We'd have a few hours together, then he'd be going home so he could head out this morning. He said he wanted to see me before leaving on what could be a stressful trip.
I guess I'm not very confident. He won't end our relationship (whatever it is, I'm not sure yet) by phone, email, or ignoring. He'd end it in person. So, since he wasn't planning to stay over, and he'd be driving three hours to spend less than 4 hours with me, I figured well, this must be it.
I guess I was wrong. He was open, affectionate, and attentive. I guess he just wanted a few smiles and strokes before going out to battle. I wished I had a long silk scarf to tie on his helmet.
Today I set out for the museum. I stopped at The Hairless Hunk's to pay for the past several mowings and got into an extended conversation with him, then went to the post office, and the grocery store (more cat food), and the bank, and then noticed that Piper's car was outside his office. He had been to Florida to visit his mother, so I decided to stop in and find out how she is.
His office door was locked, but the lights were on. That means he's at the cafe up the street or in the bar/bistro across the street.
I found him in the bar. Soused. He'd been doing shots. As usual, there were several guys there, his "buddies" (he knows everyone). He was very happy. And soused enough to be a bit overly affectionate toward me. I know he toys with the occasional thought of "us", but he knows I'm not encouraging him. He's already got a lady (which I remind him), and he'd quickly drive me crazy (which I don't tell him).
I decided to stay a while. He has to drive to Rockland for dinner, a retirement party for an old friend, and he needed sobering up, and his buddies weren't going to help with that. When I said "You're drunk!" he said he wasn't going to have any more, but while I was there, the buddies bought him three more shots. I got pretty thoroughly hugged and cheek-kissed, and over the next two hours he sang just about every Sinatra song to me. While holding my hand. His trip to Florida didn't go very well, and I tried to lure him back to his office with me and tell me about it, but he didn't want to leave.
Sigh.
When it was time for him to go to Rockland, he left. I offered to go with him, designated driver, etc., but he kept saying he was fine. Nothing else I could do about it short of calling the cops. Maybe I should have.
He's a terrible driver even sober, the concept of lanes is theoretical to him, he's easily distracted by thoughts and bright objects, but on the other hand he's never had an accident, so it's hard to argue with him.
I never made it to the museum.
.
Friday, July 14, 2006
792 Friday - Flirtations and Fears
Friday, July 14, 2006
I volunteered at the Maritime Museum today, and finally, finally, a man came in who was worth flirting with!
He had come in with a woman. They were working with an environmental action group and wanted to find maps or aerial views of the river bank, and to use the computer to look some stuff up on their way to a meeting. I thought it was cute that he mentioned that they had "met up" to do this research and would have to go back such-and-such a way so she could retrieve her car. He didn't have to mention that. (Like, "Um, just to let you know we don't live together....") I was sure to mention that my late husband and I had attended blah blah, and I mentioned the village I live in (just in case he wanted to look in a phone book or anything like that).
I'm not going to sit around waiting for a call, but it was good practice. He leaned over the counter to read my badge at least three times, it was clear he was memorizing the name, so I might have done something right. I'm rather proud of myself. Flirting is new to me.
I didn't get much else done today, beyond stopping in at the Suzuki dealership to ask what that blank green rectangle on the dashboard display is (they didn't know), and to order a 2003 book. The 2006 book just doesn't make it.
The Hairless Hunk and I spent some time discussing what has to be done with the woods (damn, he's good looking!), and I had nice phone conversations with Daughter (who is visiting Penn State and her old fraternity house for the first time since she graduated), and Piper, and Roman.
The Hunk told me that he had talked recently with the young man who had cleared my woods. I had sold the guy an easement on my property for his electric line, for the house he's building behind mine, for $1 and the clearing of the woods. Coming across my property was about 1/3 the distance compared to coming up from the highway. It turns out that to come across my property requires that they put in another pole at the corner of my lot, and that one pole will cost him $10,000 to have it planted! So it turns out that it's actually cheaper for him to run the line up from the highway, since there would be no poles involved. Ouch! I almost feel sorry for the guy.
I spent a lot of time today reading Israeli and Lebanese blogs (see links on the right. Note - Links will be there on the main page, but not if you are looking only at this post). The contrast between what we hear on the news or read in the newspaper and what these bloggers are saying, is ... I can't think of an appropriate word. If you know what's really going on, the reasons and implications, you might be as frightened as I am.
I volunteered at the Maritime Museum today, and finally, finally, a man came in who was worth flirting with!
He had come in with a woman. They were working with an environmental action group and wanted to find maps or aerial views of the river bank, and to use the computer to look some stuff up on their way to a meeting. I thought it was cute that he mentioned that they had "met up" to do this research and would have to go back such-and-such a way so she could retrieve her car. He didn't have to mention that. (Like, "Um, just to let you know we don't live together....") I was sure to mention that my late husband and I had attended blah blah, and I mentioned the village I live in (just in case he wanted to look in a phone book or anything like that).
I'm not going to sit around waiting for a call, but it was good practice. He leaned over the counter to read my badge at least three times, it was clear he was memorizing the name, so I might have done something right. I'm rather proud of myself. Flirting is new to me.
I didn't get much else done today, beyond stopping in at the Suzuki dealership to ask what that blank green rectangle on the dashboard display is (they didn't know), and to order a 2003 book. The 2006 book just doesn't make it.
The Hairless Hunk and I spent some time discussing what has to be done with the woods (damn, he's good looking!), and I had nice phone conversations with Daughter (who is visiting Penn State and her old fraternity house for the first time since she graduated), and Piper, and Roman.
The Hunk told me that he had talked recently with the young man who had cleared my woods. I had sold the guy an easement on my property for his electric line, for the house he's building behind mine, for $1 and the clearing of the woods. Coming across my property was about 1/3 the distance compared to coming up from the highway. It turns out that to come across my property requires that they put in another pole at the corner of my lot, and that one pole will cost him $10,000 to have it planted! So it turns out that it's actually cheaper for him to run the line up from the highway, since there would be no poles involved. Ouch! I almost feel sorry for the guy.
I spent a lot of time today reading Israeli and Lebanese blogs (see links on the right. Note - Links will be there on the main page, but not if you are looking only at this post). The contrast between what we hear on the news or read in the newspaper and what these bloggers are saying, is ... I can't think of an appropriate word. If you know what's really going on, the reasons and implications, you might be as frightened as I am.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
#506 Home, to Snow/Slush
I'm home again. I went to LaGrange yesterday about 1 pm, and stayed until about 6:30 this evening. Ten inches of snow on top of freezing rain was predicted, so I loaded the snowthrower into the van and took it with me. It would make quick work of Roman's driveway. I stopped on the way and arranged for the Hairless Hunk to plow the main part of my drive so that I could get the van (and snowthrower) up when I got home.
The storm started last night with mixed rain, sleet, and snow, and continued all night. I was surprised that in the morning there was only about two inches of very wet slush on the driveway. Then today there were light snow showers all day. But again, there was very little accumulation on the ground, although there were maybe 4 inches of mushy snow on the deck.
Imagine my surprise when I got home and found somewhere between 8 and 10 inches of heavy wet snow in the driveway. A path had been plowed to the top, and the plow heaps were higher than the hood of the van. As requested, HH had not plowed most of the flat area at the top (although he had to do some to be able to turn his truck around).
I guess we did get a little more than LaGrange got.
I'll have to finish it with the snowthrower tomorrow. I hope it doesn't freeze solid overnight. I could have a real mess out there.
Also tomorrow I have to do something about the tires on the van. When I drove to New Jersey back before Christmas, I noticed that at about 63 mph the front and the steering wheel were shimmying. I assumed it was the alignment or something. But it has been getting worse. Now it shimmies badly below 35 and above 45. Roman looked at the tires and found a 1-inch jagged tear in the driver's side front tire sidewall. Very strange. How could that happen? Now I'm worried that maybe a belt has shifted? I drove all the way home from LaGrange this evening at 40-45 mph. It took an hour. So not only did I drive home slowly, I had a steel grip on the steering wheel.
There's been something wrong with those tires since day one. They have worn very badly on the outside edges of the tread, but they were never underinflated. They have less than 40,000 miles on them. I think tomorrow I'll replace at least the front two. Next summer, the rear two.
I overstayed my welcome in LaGrange, I think. If we don't have to get out because he has to go to work, that happens. I'm such a pain sometimes. Well, maybe usually. I can't seem to let things go. I attack his reticence. And I can't seem to say goodbye because it's like I'm afraid one of these days he'll come to his senses and this will be the last I see of him. So, I sense he's anxious to get to other matters, and my presence distracts him he says, no matter how I try to stay out of his way, and then I turn kittenish and outrageous, and then things spin out of control. I hate when I do that. But it had been two weeks since I'd seen him last, and I was starving. I don't think he understands that.
.... My insecurities are showing.
To bed early tonight. I hope I can get to sleep in decent time. Much work to do tomorrow.
The storm started last night with mixed rain, sleet, and snow, and continued all night. I was surprised that in the morning there was only about two inches of very wet slush on the driveway. Then today there were light snow showers all day. But again, there was very little accumulation on the ground, although there were maybe 4 inches of mushy snow on the deck.
Imagine my surprise when I got home and found somewhere between 8 and 10 inches of heavy wet snow in the driveway. A path had been plowed to the top, and the plow heaps were higher than the hood of the van. As requested, HH had not plowed most of the flat area at the top (although he had to do some to be able to turn his truck around).
I guess we did get a little more than LaGrange got.
I'll have to finish it with the snowthrower tomorrow. I hope it doesn't freeze solid overnight. I could have a real mess out there.
Also tomorrow I have to do something about the tires on the van. When I drove to New Jersey back before Christmas, I noticed that at about 63 mph the front and the steering wheel were shimmying. I assumed it was the alignment or something. But it has been getting worse. Now it shimmies badly below 35 and above 45. Roman looked at the tires and found a 1-inch jagged tear in the driver's side front tire sidewall. Very strange. How could that happen? Now I'm worried that maybe a belt has shifted? I drove all the way home from LaGrange this evening at 40-45 mph. It took an hour. So not only did I drive home slowly, I had a steel grip on the steering wheel.
There's been something wrong with those tires since day one. They have worn very badly on the outside edges of the tread, but they were never underinflated. They have less than 40,000 miles on them. I think tomorrow I'll replace at least the front two. Next summer, the rear two.
I overstayed my welcome in LaGrange, I think. If we don't have to get out because he has to go to work, that happens. I'm such a pain sometimes. Well, maybe usually. I can't seem to let things go. I attack his reticence. And I can't seem to say goodbye because it's like I'm afraid one of these days he'll come to his senses and this will be the last I see of him. So, I sense he's anxious to get to other matters, and my presence distracts him he says, no matter how I try to stay out of his way, and then I turn kittenish and outrageous, and then things spin out of control. I hate when I do that. But it had been two weeks since I'd seen him last, and I was starving. I don't think he understands that.
.... My insecurities are showing.
To bed early tonight. I hope I can get to sleep in decent time. Much work to do tomorrow.
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