3180 Gathering, Image, Id card

Sunday, March 6, 2011

There can’t be sin without knowledge.

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Friday I went 13 minutes up the road to the Central NJ regional gathering. It started at 4 pm on Friday, and went 'til about noonish today, with conversation and food in the hospitality room, a slate of speakers, and people from all over the north east in attendance. I heard one of the organizers say they had about 200 people registered, but I don't know where they were all hiding, because it didn't seem like that many to me.

The Man and I had met at this gathering four years ago, so this is sorta like an anniversary for us. It was a fluke that he was there that year. He just doesn't enjoy the gatherings.

I got a room at the host hotel for Friday night, but not for Saturday, because not much happens on Sunday anyway, so I figured I'd leave late Saturday night.

I sent The Man a note mid-week to tell him I'd be there and would love to see him. He's been working in Delaware, so I was a bit shocked (and very happy) when he said yes. He arrived Friday evening, bearing sushi, and we had dinner in the room. He'd said he had to leave on Saturday for a 4 pm dinner with his son, but what I didn't realize was that he'd be meeting his son in Maryland. So he left a little before noon Saturday. That means he drove from Delaware to central NJ to see me, then drove back through Delaware to Maryland - I was way out of his way. I am gratified. It feels good.

Back in the Hospitality room, many people were commenting (not exactly complaining) that they were disappointed in the speakers. Seems like nobody was up to par. There were no topics that interested me until a 4 pm talk on "Humor", by a guy who was the 2006 Time magazine "Man of the Year". I thought that would be good. Like what makes something funny? What are the differences in regional or national humor? What effect does laughter have on one's attitude and health? On brain chemistry? Why do some people find some things funny (like slapstick, the Three Stooges, the Marx Brothers, Seinfeld, Two and a Half Men) that others (like me) find offensive? What is the anatomy of a joke? There were so many approaches that would have been interesting.

A series of ancient jokes wasn't it.

I actually left the room before it ended, and I rarely walk out on a speaker. Sorry. I was tired (a night with The Man does that...) and I was falling asleep sitting there, which I suspect is worse than quietly creeping out.

There was nothing else on the roster that interested me, so after wandering around a bit and talking to a few people, I left. I was home by 6:30 pm, and in bed by 10.

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When a perfectly presentable person looks in the mirror, and sees a fat slob, or an ugly face, or is generally unhappy with their appearance, we have names for that. It's seen as a psychological problem. A disconnect between reality and perception.

I wonder if there's a name for my problem. When I look in the mirror, I'm happy with what I see. I think I look not only fine, but downright sexy, verging on pretty. Everything about my mirror image pleases me, and I think I'm being critical and realistic.

But when I see a photo of me, I'm shocked. Look at the wrinkles! The scars! The sags! The belly sticking out! The thunder thighs! The thin shapeless hair! The droopy neck! The yellow crooked teeth! Where did all those chins come from! My God, that nose is HUGE! Who IS that person!

And then I'm embarrassed. I wonder, when people look at me, do they see my mirror image or the photo image? I guess I have a disconnect between reality and perception, too. But is it good or bad? Healthy or unhealthy?

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I keep hearing that the Conservatives, Republicans, Tea Party folks, most, anyway, want less government messing in our lives. But read this: http://www.switched.com/2011/03/03/real-id-act-republicans-push-to-enact/.

It seems to me that what they really mean is less regulation of corporations and big business (campaign contributors), but more messing in and control of the lives of the "little people".

I don't see where a national id card would be any safer than the existing ids. The terrorists used faked driver's licenses. Would faking a national card be any more difficult? Especially when much of the info comes from state DMVs anyway? Seems to me it's more like an excuse to gather information on me, and you, and everyone else. That's all. An extension of the Patriot Act that has already destroyed our privacy, gone a major step farther.
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1797 Home Again, and Leery of Raccoon Poop

Monday, May 5, 2008

I mapped out my own route home yesterday. Rather than take the GPS-recommended route through Pennsylvania, I dropped down to the DC beltway, swung up past Baltimore and across the Delaware Memorial Bridge (dedicated to war dead. Isn't it odd that the name doesn't say what it's a memorial to? I wondered if it was anticipating the demise of Delaware), and then up the NJ turnpike. It wasn't as direct, but it took an hour less than Friday's route.

Saturday in the hospitality room I was sitting next to a guy who was talking about how GPS devices work, and I mentioned that in lower Manhattan, downtown, the signals are purposely blocked. He snorted at me and said it was not on purpose, that the buildings simply cause the signals to bounce.

Now, I'll grant that there's a possibility he's correct. But there's also a possibility he's not. I tried to tell him that it worked just fine in the canyons of midtown, and in the area where it didn't work downtown we were not in canyons - the nearest buildings on the right were at least three hundred feet away, and on the left was the Hudson river, completely open - so bouncing didn't seem likely, especially a bounce that would put the car three blocks inland from where it actually was.

I was not arguing. I was simply presenting my personal experience, and what I'd been told by someone whom I believe. Input to consider. But he turned his back and refused to listen.

He really really pissed me off the way he simply dismissed me. He was so damn cocksure. Some Mensans do that. They are so sure they're right that they won't listen to or think about any other possibilities. He made no attempt to consider or integrate what I said.

I don't mind being corrected. I do mind being ignored.

Sometimes these folks have no sense.

Friday night at the Jacuzzi, there were about 8 people sitting on the edge with their legs in the water, and 5 fully in the water when I arrived. They didn't have the bubbles on, and I asked why, and they said that it wasn't working right, and it was too loud for conversation. Someone else said let's try it again anyway, for a few minutes. So one of the women went over and turned the dial, then hit the big red button on the wall next to the dial, "to turn it on". It didn't go on. She tried three or four times before someone pointed out that the red button was the emergency cutoff.

So she finally got the thing going, and there're no bubbles. The water level was too high, over the air intake holes, so air was not getting mixed in. Folks complained. The lifeguard came over and said that the max was six people in the water for it to work right. The Mensans counted - we've got six in the water, so duh?

I felt so sorry for the lifeguard when he realized what he'd said. The look on his face was priceless. I knew what he wanted to say, but couldn't. I wanted to say it, too, and couldn't. At least four of the six in the water were close to or well over 400 pounds each. They really didn't seem to notice what the problem was. They decided there was too much water in the pool, and turned it off.

Sigh.

Sometimes I wonder why I go to these things.

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Actually, there was a presentation on Sunday morning that almost made it all worthwhile. It was a guy who works for the Smithsonian, and frequently works with the national zoo (which is run by the Smithsonian) on occupational safety. He talked about the dangers faced by the animal handlers.

He didn't have handouts because it was supposed to be a powerpoint presentation, and we could take notes. The organizers provided a laptop with a projector hookup. In typical Mensa fashion, no one thought to ask what software was needed on the laptop. It didn't have powerpoint. (This is usual, that Mensans seem to assume that "everyone has what I have" and "nobody needs what I don't have". Like when our local guy edited the ByLaws with a proprietary application, and didn't seem to understand what was wrong with that. He liked it, therefore everyone should have it.)

So anyhow, the Smithsonian guy did the presentation with no photos, foils, flipcharts, or handouts, and still managed to make it interesting.

Zoos are crawling with weird diseases. There's some breed of monkey (I forget) that carries a herpes virus that doesn't bother them much at all, but is 100% fatal to humans. They need to be penned in such a way that they can't escape, and can't spit, poop, or piddle on the public, because the virus can enter through the skin. When the handlers enter the compound, they have to wear hazardous materials suits. Having these monkeys costs a fortune in liability insurance. (No one asked why a zoo would want to have them, but the National Zoo is heavily involved in conservation and breeding programs, so I guess that's why.)

Elephants carry TB. Their skin is too thick for the tine test, so they teach the elephants to suck up water and slosh it up and down in their trunks and then squirt it into a beaker for testing. The elephants like to do it.

The zoo doesn't have raccoons (I don't think) but wild raccoons are always entering the compounds from Rock Creek Park. They know where the good food is. Now, this part scared me. It's shocking, and I don't know why we've never heard about it before.

80% of racoons carry a particular type of roundworm in their intestines. Their feces contain roundworm eggs, which become infectious after drying for 30 days. If a human ingests the eggs, the roundworms grow in the intestines, but unlike in the raccoon, they penetrate the intestines and migrate throughout the body, including the eyes and brain, causing irreparable damage.

Ok, I'm not likely to eat raccoon feces. But it gets scarier.

If you breathe in the eggs, he said, the eggs can lodge and hatch in the upper nasal passages, and the larvae migrate directly to the brain, where they form a mass that crowds and kills the brain. Nobody knew that could happen until a recent case of a man who ran over raccoon feces while mowing his lawn.

At this point the audience erupted. 80%? The raccoons in my back yard? Why have we never heard of this before?

Apparently infection is more rare than one would think. Raccoons don't normally poop out in the open. They tend to go next to or under downed and rotting logs in the woods, and in brush piles. So as long as you don't handle raccoons or kick or lick rotting logs, you're unlikely to contact the eggs.

Uh, the places where raccoons poop sound a lot like the places geocachers plant their caches. Could this be a problem for geocachers Daughter and Hercules?

And when a raccoon is run over on the road, um, thirty days later is the roadside full of ripe eggs ready to be breathed?

And if this is all true, why is infection so rare? Is it possible that it's just not diagnosed?

Ick.

The Smithsonian guy also talked about various diseases and dangers with other animals, from cats to reptiles. If you think toxoplasmosis in a housecat is a problem, consider the tiger. And the one company that made coral snake antivenom stopped making it, so you'd better not get bitten. And black-footed ferrets cannot be tamed. And you never look a male gorilla in the eye. And no matter how "tame" a wild animal can be, they have very strong instincts that can be triggered by the most innocent actions. And there's a breed of American squirrel that hates vipers, and has learned to increase the temperature in its tail, so that flicking the tail around allows it to confuse the snake long enough that the squirrel can bite the snake in the back of the neck and kill it, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi style.

So some of the weekend was interesting....
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1795 Gaithersburg 2

After midnight, Saturday night, Sunday morning, May 3-4, 2008

Is it today, tomorrow, or yesterday? I'm so confused. I'm also very tired.

I got to sleep at about 2:30 am on Friday night/Saturday morning, after the pool party, a stint in the hospitality room, futzing around on the laptop, and reading in bed. That would have been ok - the first session I wanted to attend was at 10:30 am - but I'm in one of those "adjoining rooms", you know, with the door in the wall connecting two rooms? The door is locked and barred, but it's not soundproof, and the people next door got up at 5 am. Repeat, 5 am. And they talked non-stop, at a higher than normal volume. I couldn't believe the talking. Long monologues. It was almost like they were rehearsing a presentation or something.

At one point I said, in a normal tone, from my bed, "Could you lower the volume, please?", and I guess they heard me, because they did get quieter for a few minutes, but then it went back up, and they kept it up until 9 am. I was very frustrated.

Even if the neighbors were quiet I'm not sure I would have slept very well. Something with sirens - police, ambulance, fire trucks, who knows what else - goes by about every hour. The hotel is on a major intersection, so they blast the sirens as they approach. I'm just not used to that. I used to love this area, but I don't think I could stand the noise and traffic it has acquired in the past 30 years.

So I was tired all day today. Dragging.

I did go visit my old house - the one in the planned community. I would never have found it without the GPS. What had been all farmland and winding 2-lane roads is now all built up, huge office parks and malls, and houses, and 4-6 lane roads. There were no landmarks left.

I wouldn't have recognized Churchill. Twenty-five years ago it was all new dirt, bare, twiggy young trees and a hole where the lake was supposed to be. Now it's actually beautiful. The trees have grown up, the houses are literally tucked into a forest, the lake glints through the trees. I remember the day I took a pick axe to the front yard and planted a young 8' dogwood, which I then had to nurse through a bout of some kind of nasty black beetle. That dogwood is now huge, and was blossoming today. I'm proud of her.

I didn't call my friends to set something up. I don't know why. I just felt pretty tired. I convinced myself that it was because if I called Danny I'd have to call Caroline W., and if I called Caroline W. I'd have to call Carolyn K., and there just wasn't time to see all of them, so I can't see any of them.

Actually, I'm just tired and bloated and uncomfortable. And a little depressed. At least I got to visit Gettysburg and the old house, and that's good enough for now.

The guy who flirted last night flirted some more today. It's flattering, but I never know what to do with stuff like that. He's really nice looking, and DRINKS TEA!, so I flirted back a little, but I didn't step over the barrier. I have me a man now that I'd like to keep, but I wish there were some way to put guys in a freezer for just in case, you know?

Oh, and I skipped the jacuzzi tonight. I seem to have picked up something yucky last night. Some other woman must have shared a little too much in too little chlorine. Bleck. I should have known better. Oh well, just a little something else to add to the depression.
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1794 Gaithersburg

The wee hours of Saturday, May 3, 2008

I am in Gaithersburg, MD, at a gathering of Maryland and Washington Metropolitan Mensa, at the Holiday Inn.

The drive was a 6.5 hour misery. I decided to blindly follow the GPS, and it put me on route 15, a LOCAL road, heading out of Harrisburg, at 5 pm. This was not good. There is a way to tell it to avoid certain roads and conditions and times - I guess I'm going to have to read the book.

On the other hand, route 15 took me within a few miles of Gettysburg, PA. Back in the dim mid-60s I lived and taught high school math there, so I decided to detour and visit. I almost didn't recognize the place. It used to be a sleepy little village except on summer weekends when the tourists came. Well, the village grew. But it can't expand outward because it's confined by the battlefields, so it just packed more into the tiny space it has. And they forgot parking. There were so many cars! And the streets are still civil war era narrow. It was scary. I don't think I'll be tempted to visit again soon.

I also once lived within a few miles of this hotel. Daughter went to nursery school, Montessori school, and first grade here. Again, this area has changed so much I'm going to need the GPS to find my old house, even though the bank I used and the shopping center where I bought household stuff is right across the street from this hotel. Beyond this corner, I'm lost.

I have some old friends in the area. I didn't let them know I'd be here because the final decision to come wasn't made until Friday morning (like, 15 hours ago). I'll call tomorrow and see who's available for lunch, dinner, or a visit later today or Sunday. [Later - see the confusion. I wrote this after midnight but before I slept, so is today tomorrow or yesterday?]

I got here too late for any of the Friday Mensa programs, but there was a pool/Jacuzzi party starting at 10 pm, so I went to that. Mostly it was just sitting or standing in the water talking, but it was ok. I had forgotten my bathing suit, but was able to buy one in the hotel store. Not too expensive ($25), plain black, and it actually looked ok on.

That was annoying, that I had to buy a suit. I found something that I love as a bathing suit (here, without sleeves). I have one in black, and one in tan. Just this past week I became aware that the manufacturer who used to make them has stopped. Another is making them, but they are a custom order, and who knows how long that will last, so I ordered three more. They should last me for the rest of my life. Buying another suit today because I forgot to bring one of the FIVE I have is teeth-gritting.

My man had said he might come with me this weekend, but he had to take time off from work for a family matter earlier in the week, so he couldn't come. A very nice looking guy in the pool and later in the hospitality room (home of food and drinks and conversation) was flirting with me. Very flattering, but I didn't encourage him.

To tell the truth, I don't know why I'm here.
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1522 End of Gathering

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Well, yesterday was my 63rd birthday. I've been telling people to ignore it for the past three years because I want to be able to truthfully say, when asked my age, "I was 60 on my last birthday." People ignore my wishes and make birthday noises at me anyway. But I was watching a past episode of Pushing Daisies online this evening, and heard the voiceover describe someone as "44 years 18 months xx days yy hours" old, and I realized I could describe myself as 60 years and 36 months old - and everyone knows that past infancy it's silly to include the months. I've found my solution.

I made it downstairs in time for breakfast this morning, which included quiche, bacon, sausage, all kinds of melon and other fruits, five juices, boiled eggs, bagels, english muffins, sweet muffins, donuts, oatmeal, raw veggies, and the usual caffeines.

I was accosted across the buffet table by, um, The Sex God. He's gorgeous, piercing blue eyes, amazing body, long wavy hair, silky beard, wonderful smooth voice, and (unusual for this bunch) makes a lot of sense when he speaks. I heard someone say "Silk!" and I looked up and it was him. I about fell over. Every healthy female who'd ever attended one of his presentations is hopelessly in love with him. (Too bad I'm aware he believes in "open relationships". That's a deal breaker.) Until you hear him speak, he looks like just another sexy biker dude, what with all the leather and chains and high boots.

He wanted to compliment me on my style, my smile, the way I move, and the dress I'd been wearing the night before. I was flabbergasted, especially since I'd run down to breakfast with no makeup on - after all, who's gonna see me that matters, right? I blushed, laughed, and smiled, and he said "That's it! That's the smile!"

He invited me to join the party sub-group, "Hell's Ms", that he could tell that I was a partier (partyer?). I said no, I'm not a partier at all. He said that depends on how you define party. A party can be two people and a bottle of wine, or fifty people and conversation, and that the main difference between Hell's Ms and other Mensa party groups is that Hell's Ms remember the next morning what happened the night before. I said, oh, ok, that does sound like my kind of party. Then I smiled and walked away.

Well, I was very flattered. I think. I'm not sure. What's with that he "can tell I'm a partier" bit? Like, you wish, Buster! Well, maybe, IF my current romantic interest doesn't work out long term, maybe someday I'll look into Hell's Ms. I understand that they do a lot of volunteer work within Mensa, I might pick up some social skills, and the logo t-shirts are a status symbol. Maybe I'll have to go read their newsletter.

My head is a bit swelled today. Over the past three days, three other men told me I was beautiful, in a quite serious and personal manner, when I got up to leave after we'd been talking a while. I know I'm not beautiful, but it's nice to be told I'm appreciated however they go about expressing it. (Keep in mind these guys are mostly sex-starved geeks. Maybe they just appreciate a woman who flirts with them a little. (I've been told I flirt unconsciously all the time, with everyone. I don't agree. I guess that's the unconscious part. (Should that be subconscious?)))

Which reminds me - we had some folks set up at a table outside the big hospitality room interviewing candidates for Beauty and the Geek, and some past beauties and geeks in a conference room answering questions. (Giggle. After my flattering weekend, I wasn't sure which side I should apply for.)

Programs I attended today: free hospitality breakfast; Science vs Religion - The search for truth; Beauty and the Geek Q&A; Waltzing Australia; an hour by myself in the whirlpool, with a book. (What book, you ask? I'm a Mensan. It was a dictionary - Bryerson's Dictionary of Troublesome Words.)

Programs I did not attend: Non-denominational Worship Service; Presentation of Awards; Swing Dance Lesson; Exertion (talk on strange sports, stunts, and physical activities); Trust Me, I'm a Lawyer (I wanted to go to this, but it overlapped the science vs religion program, which was very good); Stitch & Bitch; Settlers of Catan Tournament; Proctor Training (how to certify to administer the Mensa IQ test); Everything's Digital - Amazing opportunities and some problems; the after-party, known as "The Survivor's Party".

It was all over by 3 pm. The word was passed that all uneaten food in the hospitality rooms would be discarded, so come and get it now. I loaded a plate with meats and cheeses and melon and three bean salad to have for dinner, and scarfed up all the cans of iced tea I could find. Picnic in my room.

Bedtime. Hard traveling tomorrow. Luggage heavier with books (and handout trash that I'll likely throw away as soon as I get home, but right now seems so very important to LIFE!) I haven't the faintest idea how one gets from here to the airport, whether taxis will even come here to take me. I'll figure it out, I guess.
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1520 Map of Where I Am

Friday, October 26, 2007

We're pretty far out from the city, without a car. Zoom to level 6 on the map to get the idea.
Map of 3400 W Euclid Ave Arlington Heights, IL 60005-1052, US
If anyone can tell me how to imbed a map from either Mapquest or Google, or at least how to get the link right for the zoom level I'm looking at, I'd pure-D appreciate it.

1519 Settling In

Thursday, October 25, 2007

I'm in the hotel, after a frantic morning. I set the alarm for 7 am, planning to leave the house by 8:30, but then didn't wake up until the alarm STOPPED buzzing at 9. I made it out of the house in a record 20 minutes, made it to the airport just barely in time to get my suitcase checked onto the plane.

The Mommy Letter (informational letter you get from Mensa when you register for the gathering) said to arrange for a taxi from O'Hare to the hotel by calling a taxi from a courtesy phone. By the third try I was almost in tears - the guys who answered the phone barely spoke English, and I couldn't understand the letter of the door they wanted me to stand at and the number of the taxi that would come, and the first two hung up on me when I couldn't understand the number. The third guy was nicer, and worked with me until I got it. ("E, as in fervid." "E as in Edward?" "No, E as in fervid." "Like, A B C D E?" "No, A E E E." "Oh, D, as in dog?" "No. E as in David." "Ok, I've got it. A B C D!" "Yuh." "Uh, that's the door under construction that doesn't have a letter on it, right?" "Yuh, that one. Next one up from E.")

At the desk, they asked me if I really required room 906 (or whatever), and when I said no, they moved me to a "preferred" floor. My room is HUGE! Beautiful matched cherry furniture, a king-sized sleigh bed with five pillows, sofa, free wifi, etc.

The hotel is pretty fantastic, too. They have a 60,000 sq. ft. indoor waterpark, with slides, water cannons, whirlpools, and movies you can watch while floating in an innertube. On the other hand, a cup of tea in the cafe is $3.

FW's plane was delayed out of Newburgh. No idea when she'll get here. If she runs into the same taxi guys I did, she might flip out and go home, and I'm not kidding. I wouldn't blame her.

....FW just called my cell. She's here, her room's on the 3rd floor. (I'm on the 10th.) We're going to hunt down some food in about a half hour. (She's got big ideas about famous Chicago restaurants. We are NOT in the city - we're out in the middle of nowhere. I didn't see so much as a Denny's driving in. It's gonna be the hotel food or nothing.)

....Later - checked with the desk. The nearest restaurant is a 10 minute drive away. Nothing within walking distance. Ate in the hotel restaurant. Ten buffalo wings with celery, tea, key lime pie - $23 with tax and tip.

Located the Mensa gathering registration desk. All set.
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1147 Small World

Monday, March 05, 2007

[Later edit - I remembered the name of the religion with the eternal flame - the Zoroastrians. See http://webzc.com/webzc.com/about.htm for a description of Zoroastrianism. It resonates with me in several ways (though not in others).]

In my usual time-unconscious way, I headed out Friday just in time to get to the Garden State Parkway at the beginning of rush hour. On a Friday. But it wasn't too bad, and I made it to the gathering hotel in enough time to register, sign in at the Mensa desk (I was a little embarrassed all weekend by my name tag - the woman at the desk had been into the wine, I guess, and tried to get fancy with "Silk", and it was almost unreadable), and meet a NJ blogger at 6 pm for dinner.

I'd been reading this lady's blog for several months. Her blog is full of atmosphere - she manages to convey mood even when she's writing about, oh, stop signs. I already knew a bit about her daily life, but I found I knew nothing about her. I expected a rather shy, quiet, perhaps indecisive, "gray" personality. Nope. She's decisive, open, confident, even a little imposing in appearance. She'd been kicked around in the past, but I think she's finding her strength now. I'm so happy to have met her. I needed a reminder that reading a blog is not "knowing" a person.

After all the advice I had got when I was planning to go to Manhattan for Roman's parents' memorial service, I vowed to go to NYC on my own this summer. I may now have someone to meet there.

The first Mensa sessions (monster trivia, a talk on lunar eclipses, and a talk on total wellness - pick one) were at 8 pm, but we were having such an interesting dinner, I blew it off. After dinner I went to the hospitality room, and found subs and all kinds of drinks and yummies, and lots of interesting people. There were 200+ attendees. I think I've about convinced half of them it's time to retire. I was also surprised that about half the people there are "in computers", and of those, half work for (or worked for) The Company. Most are now contractors.

I ran into one of the guys I had been playing trivia with, who had moved to Chicago. Another of our Mid-Hudson members moved to Chicago a few months ago, and I asked him if he had seen her at any Mensa event there, and he said no, but that he was surprised to run into her at a store downtown. In Chicago. Neat, huh?

Saturday breakfast in the hospitality room started at 6 am. I was up until 1, so there was no way I was going to make that. Last year, Roman was disappointed because by the time we made it to breakfast, all the lox were gone. Lots of bagels, but no lox. (I had never had bagels with lox and cream cheese, so a few weeks later, he introduced me at breakfast at his house. His were better ... ) I got downstairs at 7:15, and there was still lox. I wandered by at 10:45, and there were STILL lox! (Were? Was? Is lox plural?)

See, Roman? You should have been there. I called him and left a message to that effect.

At 9 I attended a talk and slide show by a woman who goes on archaeological tours. This one was on Iran, her latest trip. We've all heard of the Persian empire, and Alexander the Great, and the Hittites, and all that, but it hadn't occurred to me that Iran is full of ruins, just like Greece and Italy, and that you can, like, touch a door frame that Alexander had likely touched. I like connections like that. A lot of the "ruins" seemed fresher and in better condition than many younger ones I had seen in Europe. She says that Iran is tolerant of other religions. There's a Zoroastrian temple where there is an eternal flame, apricot wood and sandalwood in a bowl, that the priests have kept burning for 2000 years (actually, the number was "since 400", but I can't remember whether it was BC or AD).

At 10:30 a guy compared Tim Burton's movie Mars Attacks with Dante's Divine Comedy, showing the parallels in punishment and reward. The talk was all about the similarity between the two, but that wasn't the real point (which many attendees seemed to miss), which was that you can take any two things, and if you can find a few descriptors in common between them, you can build on them to make it sound like they are exactly the same. The talk was tongue-in-cheek, but some people missed that. Maybe because the two things he chose were very parallel - or maybe he was just good enough at it that he even convinced me, who was aware what he was doing. I wonder if he has any good deals on any bridges....

At noon, they brought in a few hundred pizzas.

I skipped the 1 pm program choices (there were multiple choices in each time slot) as none excited me, and I wanted to meet more people in the hospitality room.

At 2:30 I attended a synopsis of the Cosmology Colloquium held in Albany last fall. The subject was mostly what was before the "big bang", black holes and how they form, dark matter, etc., and the search for what really "fills" space.

At 4 there was a hilarious pun-filled rather naughty performance of the Pungo Players - a "Camelot"-themed musical playlet named "Mensalot", followed by a hotel-catered buffet dinner.

Then of course we all watched the lunar eclipse.

Son-in-law Hercules arrived at about 6. Daughter was attending a weekend Montessori conference in the city, so I had invited Hercules to join me. All the Mensa attendees wore a name tag that allowed them into the programs and hospitality foods, so I took him to the Mensa registration desk to get him a temporary badge, but there was no one there. Undeterred, he folded a piece of paper to the proper size and faked himself one. (People laughed because he had carefully copied, in black pen, the pink spoon sticker on my badge. The spoon was to indicate that I had paid for the dinner buffet.)

I introduced him around (Look what my daughter brought home for me!), and then we went to the 7 pm keynote talk, given by George Musser, a Scientific American editor, on what discoveries he expects will be made in fundamental physics and cosmology in the next ten years. (The particles are getting tinier and tinier, and Hercules and I both believe there is no upper or lower limit in size. When they finally detect what they now theorize are the tiniest particles, I'll bet they'll find hints of tinier. Ho hum.)

At 9:30 we went to the dance. The next morning, everybody at breakfast was taking about Hercules. He shook the place up. Next entry.

[Much later edit - this is the night I first met The Man.]
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981 Boston

Monday, November 20, 2006

Well, not really Boston, thank goodness, the Boston Men5a R3gional Gath3ring last weekend was in Braintr3e, MA. I didn't have to go through Boston at all. (Note how I've cleverly disguised the words above - I'd prefer that others who were there didn't Google them and find this journal. It happened with a few other events I've commented on lately, local people have found me, and I'm going to have to either start censoring myself, or disguise the topics, and I don't want to censor me.)

As of Thursday evening, I still wasn't sure I wanted to go. I've been unhappy lately, feeling old and haggy and saggy and fat, and wanting to just go back into hibernation. The only reason I hit the road Friday morning was that I hadn't canceled the hotel reservation in time to avoid a charge, so I may as well go.

It was the best thing I could have done. The weekend was good for me.

I had heard that the Boston gath3ring was a good one, and it was. Not for the speakers and programs, the national gath3rings do that better, and not for the food, the northern New Jersey regional gath3ring did that better, but for the PEOPLE, and the fun.

Since I came out of mourning last summer, I have been to two regionals (usually 100-200 people) and two nationals (900-2000 people). I was joined at the hip with Roman at the regionals, so I didn't socialize much. At the nationals, New Orleans last year and Disney/Orlando this year, the hospitality rooms were huge, and they had a very strange atmosphere. There'd be people sitting at tables talking, and if you joined a table, they'd stare through you. It was very hard to make eye contact with anyone, let alone "break into" a group. Someone commented at the New Orleans gathering that it was as if the vastness of the room shell-shocked people, made them close ranks with familiar faces to keep out the cold. (Ok, it was I who said that, but others agreed with me.)

I knew this gathering would be different the minute I walked into the hospitality room. The room was about the size of my living room, dining room, and kitchen combined, divided into two levels. The upper level had maybe four large round tables that could seat 10, and four tables on the lower level, with a small dance floor. Up a few steps to the side was a kitchen/bar.

People were sitting at the tables spread with M&Ms, nuts, cookies, and chips, just like always, everywhere, except that most of them looked up and smiled at people walking in. I hadn't made it halfway across the floor when at least five people introduced themselves and asked where I was from.

I talked to a lot of people. I felt included, appreciated, accepted. They fed us all the meals except Saturday dinner - for that you could buy a ticket for a group dinner at a local Chinese buffet, or go somewhere on your own. I bought a ticket, and (for once) it was easy to join a group car pooling to the restaurant without feeling like I was intruding at all.

I was very happy.

I didn't feel saggy, baggy, fat, or old. In fact, I got hit on by three different guys, even without dots**, and I practiced flirting myself with another - a guy I wanted to drag away the moment I saw him (yeah, lust at first sight). I had recently cut my hair shorter around my face, and somehow that weekend it finally hit its stride, the natural curl took over, and it looked fantastic.

Queen Mum, you'll be happy to know that the man who pursued me most persistently was --- ta ra! --- in his early 40s. Very early. 42, I think. He and I had conversed one evening in the whirlpool at the Orlando gath3ring. He has actually seen my legs and is still interested? (Hmmm. He had also seen me sit on a whirlpool jet and go into a trance.)

By damn, I can still attract healthy nice-looking intelligent men. Given the way things had been going recently, I had been thinking those days were over.

Details in the next entry.

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**Dots

At gath3rings you wear a badge, usually a plastic or canvas envelope on a cord, hanging down your front, handy for holding things like room keys, schedules, and meal tickets, with your name on the front. Then you can decorate it with sticky dots.

Mensans are huggers. They had to come up with the dot scheme to prevent screaming and slapping in elevators.
Geen dot - Hug Me.
Yellow dot - Ask Before Hugging.
Red dot - Respect My Personal Space. No Hugging.
Blue dot - Single.
Two blue dots - Single and Looking.
Three blue dots - Single and Willing.
Four or more blue dots - Desperate.

There were orange dots on the table, too, just because they came in the package with the others. EVERYBODY asked what the orange dots meant. (If I had been behind the registration table, I wouldn't have put them out.) There were two French Canadian men there, and we tried to tell them orange meant into gay S&M, but then we noticed some people had happily stuck them all over their badges, so....

I don't use the dots. Well, I did when I went to the NJ gath3ring, I stuck a blue one on, but that was because I was there with Roman, and I was angry with his running hot and cold, and wanted to make a point.

So people (men) would gallumph up to me, arms outspread, pause, study my badge, and say, in confusion, "You don't have any dots. What does that mean?" I'd say "Oh, I'm such a tease", and smile sweetly, and ask where they're from, and usually the gallumpher would forget that he didn't get a hug.

Actually, it means I prefer to initiate any hugs, and yellow doesn't work because I don't like to say no to some and yes to others. This way I never have to actually say no, and nobody's feeling are hurt. Being very small, I seem to be a target for bears with enormous soft bellies. They like to engulf me. Smother me.

Self defense, folks.

844 MWG - The People

Monday, August 21, 2006

I don't know how many people attended the Mensa World Gathering. I had heard a few months ago that they had over 2,000 registered. There would have been more since then, and people were arriving as early as Tuesday with no pre-registration or hotel reservations. I suppose a future issue of the Journal will have the details.

There was a map outside the hospitality room for people to stick a pin in to show where they were from:
Observation - Mensans are getting older. I noticed it, and overheard several others remark on it. We were heavily into late middle age, with more than a few in their 70s and 80s and perhaps even beyond. I also noticed that at least half, maybe more, of the members are frankly obese, and half of those are into the morbidly obese range. We're talking over 450 pounds. So many men and women who walked by rolling from side to side, so many backsides rising and heaving and roiling with every step. It was pretty ugly.

By the third day, many had rented 3-wheeled buggies from the hotel, and used them to go from room to room. (More like hospitality room to restock the snack load to meeting room to hospitality room to meeting room to ....) I was disgusted by the number of horribly fat people who seemed to be stuffing yummies into their faces constantly, even during the sessions.

Worse was the cellophane crinklers. Hey folks, learn how to do it! If you insist on eating through a meeting, learn to hold the bag in one hand, and pour the candies quietly into the other hand. Cramming your fat paw into the crinkle crinkle crinkle bag every 8 seconds is incredibly annoying! Not to mention disgusting.

Weight and age became problems when it was discovered that the hotel trolleys (golf-cart looking trams that could ferry up to nine passengers around the lake to their rooms) didn't run after 10:30 pm. The sessions ran until long after midnight. I walked out of the conference center at 10:45 Tuesday night and found two very fat women and an elderly man with a cane engaged in an argument with a trolley driver. They were insisting that the hotel had said the trolley ran until 11 pm. The trolley driver was insisting that they stopped at 10:30. He gave in when he realized that there was otherwise no way these people could possibly make it to their rooms on the other side of the lake. I hope they tipped him, but these being Mensans (notoriously tight-fisted) I doubt it.

The next day, this appeared: Mensa had sprung for some additional trolley time.

The hotel said the trolleys ran "every five minutes". Bull poopy! As far as I could tell, there were only two of them, and you would wait easily 15 to 25 minutes before one made it around the lake, depending on how many stops it had to make, and by then the number of people waiting was so large that fewer than half could get on, so one actually ended up waiting more than a half hour. I rode the trolley only once, and then only to check it out. I could walk to my room in 20 minutes, so the wait didn't seem worth it.

In every group of Mensans, there is usually at least one who is determined to "show up" the speaker. These are the ones who will study up on the topic ahead of time, and then ask "innocent" questions carefully designed to either trip up the speaker, or make it look like they know more than the speaker. I didn't see too much of that this time. The audiences were remarkably respectful. I don't know why. Of course, there were still a few, and it was funny, because every time it happened, it was obvious the questioner had been working at formulating his question instead of listening, because when they triumphantly asked the zinger question, the speaker had already answered it in his presentation moments before. Now that was funny!

Well, there was one presentation where it became annoying. I think maybe I didn't write about this one (there were several I didn't mention). It was about walking tours of Paris, and there were three women in the room who wanted to make sure that everyone knew that they were at least as familiar with Paris as the speaker. And since there were the three of them, they then tried to out-Paris each other. It began to be difficult for the speaker to continue her presentation. No matter what she recommended to see, one of these three had something better.

Here's a view of the hospitality room:
The snack tables were across the back wall, and there was a bar in the back right corner. I'm not sure what they had at the bar, but it didn't look like it was heavily patronized. Along the left wall there were four (count 'em, four!) computers for the use of the several thousand members. Fifteen minute time limit, enforced I assume by the next person in line to use one. I didn't even try.

There were Mensans working with the hotel security, which I thought was pretty neat. They had badges and pagers and all. One of them was in the back of the room in a session, and I guess he forgot to turn the pager/scanner off or down, because we heard:
SKREEK!
First voice: "Um, Joe? Do you know if anyone has found that lost package yet?"
Joe: "Lost package? What lost package? (Pause) Oh, do you mean the kid?"
CLICK!