Monday, June 19, 2006
I didn't go to the Clearwater festival yesterday. I slept late, and then NJ called and we arranged to meet for dinner at 6 pm. I had called her last Friday and asked if we could get together some time soon. The festival was pretty far down the river, a long drive, getting back by 6 might be hard, and given my emotional state lately, I'd really rather talk with NJ.
We sat at a table on the patio, and ate, drank, and talked for four hours.
I nursed one Cosmopolitan for the whole four hours, with a full dinner, but when I pulled out of the parking lot, somehow I headed up the road on the wrong side. My mind was simply not working. The road has wide shoulders there, and somehow I decided the left shoulder was the left lane, and the center line was the line marking the right shoulder. A car came over the hill, and I whipped right and avoided a head-on collision by quite literally inches. I'm surprised I didn't roll the van.
This evening I'm going to walk the Wallkill Rail Trail with some Mensans. I don't particularly want to, but I committed to the organizer a few weeks ago. It may rain, and if it does, we'll just go hang out somewhere in New Paltz.
I'm kinda hoping it rains.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Sunday, June 18, 2006
744 Bad Bad Substitute Magazine
I have a subscription to Budget Living magazine. It's chock full of ideas for living your life and decorating your home without spending a lot of money.
Yesterday, I received in the mail a copy of House Beautiful magazine, with a letter attached that says that Budget Living has ceased publication, so "special arrangements have been made" to fill out the remainder of my subscription with House Beautiful.
Duh?
Whatever possessed someone to deduce that a person who subscribes to a magazine that shows you how to beautify a $5 garage-sale table would therefore be interested in a magazine that presents 150 pages of thinly disguised ads for things like $2,250 "Moroccan inspired" 6x9 rugs? A package of 50 "calling cards" for $150? A magazine that salivates over interiors that "took 300 craftsmen 3 1/2 years to complete"?
What idiot was in charge of this arrangement?
Is it possible that Budget Living failed because they didn't understand their target audience?
Yesterday, I received in the mail a copy of House Beautiful magazine, with a letter attached that says that Budget Living has ceased publication, so "special arrangements have been made" to fill out the remainder of my subscription with House Beautiful.
Duh?
Whatever possessed someone to deduce that a person who subscribes to a magazine that shows you how to beautify a $5 garage-sale table would therefore be interested in a magazine that presents 150 pages of thinly disguised ads for things like $2,250 "Moroccan inspired" 6x9 rugs? A package of 50 "calling cards" for $150? A magazine that salivates over interiors that "took 300 craftsmen 3 1/2 years to complete"?
What idiot was in charge of this arrangement?
Is it possible that Budget Living failed because they didn't understand their target audience?
743 Suicide
Saturday night, 6/17/06
I went to the dance show this evening, and it was very good. Afterward, I had a few drinks and nibbles at Bacchus, in New Paltz, with some folks - some of the dancers and their friends. (We decided we should sneak into a certain dancer's house and burn her skirt.)
Driving home up the Thruway I completely missed my exit - not easy because you go through woods and darkness, and when you come to the exit it's all lit up with businesses and all - but my mind was running in circles again and I didn't even know I'd missed it until I saw the signs for the next exit up.
There was a half-moon low in the sky, and it was red and orange. My mother used to call that "blood on the moon", and it was a bad omen. I did an entry on that a while back, about how in the Welsh mining villages, blood on the moon meant death, because it indicated dust in the air, and miners with black lung were more likely to die when there was blood on the moon. Anyway, It was directly ahead of me as I crossed the bridge, and I wondered who it was for.
Not for me, I hope.
When I got home, the bloody moon was directly visible looking out my front door.
Bad omen. Death.
There was no message on my phone. There was virtually no chance there would be, but I had hope. Dashed.
People say that when people commit suicide, they are being selfish, that they are thinking only of their own pain, and not of how they hurt the people they leave behind. Well, I've never agreed with that. Sometimes pain for those left behind is exactly what the suicide wants to accomplish!
Now, before anyone gets excited, I am extremely unlikely to commit suicide for any reason. In fact, at one of the lowest periods of my life, when I was in therapy, my psychiatrist actually laughed at me when I expressed suicidal thoughts. It's something I might think about, and toy with in an "I'll show you!" way, but not something I'd actually do. When I get depressed, it's not that bad. I usually pull myself out of it by getting mad. And then I get even. I'm quite seriously more likely to murder someone else than to murder myself. That is a possibility....
But it is therapeutic, for me, anyway, to think about suicide sometimes.
I thought about it last Monday. About how if I did off myself, everyone would know why, and who was responsible, and the accumulated guilt, anger, hate, and blame heaped from every direction would revenge me. Very bad vibes. Bad karma on you. "That'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget!" All in all, a very satisfying thought.
But of course it's all completely impossible. I couldn't figure out how to do it neatly. Seems like every way acceptable to me either isn't sure, or is very messy. And I wouldn't want it to be a long time before I'm found, so I'd have to arrange somehow to be found quickly, but that could be suspicious, or mis-timed, and lead to intervention. So the whole thing is impossible. Besides, I can't do it until my house is clean and neat, and my file cabinet makes sense. But if it were possible, wouldn't the aftermath be fun?
That was Monday. By today, I was into murder mode. I couldn't be implicated in any way in anyone's mind. I'd have to hire someone. That's not the hard part, oddly enough. I know people who know people. The hard part is that it would have to look like an accident, and I couldn't think of any plausible accidents that would be sure to get the proper result. Simple severe injury would be worse than nothing at all. Plus I'd have to arrange payment in an untraceable way, and I couldn't figure that out either.
So. It looks like I'm beginning to recover.
(Man - I hope this blog never ends up in court!)
I went to the dance show this evening, and it was very good. Afterward, I had a few drinks and nibbles at Bacchus, in New Paltz, with some folks - some of the dancers and their friends. (We decided we should sneak into a certain dancer's house and burn her skirt.)
Driving home up the Thruway I completely missed my exit - not easy because you go through woods and darkness, and when you come to the exit it's all lit up with businesses and all - but my mind was running in circles again and I didn't even know I'd missed it until I saw the signs for the next exit up.
There was a half-moon low in the sky, and it was red and orange. My mother used to call that "blood on the moon", and it was a bad omen. I did an entry on that a while back, about how in the Welsh mining villages, blood on the moon meant death, because it indicated dust in the air, and miners with black lung were more likely to die when there was blood on the moon. Anyway, It was directly ahead of me as I crossed the bridge, and I wondered who it was for.
Not for me, I hope.
When I got home, the bloody moon was directly visible looking out my front door.
Bad omen. Death.
There was no message on my phone. There was virtually no chance there would be, but I had hope. Dashed.
People say that when people commit suicide, they are being selfish, that they are thinking only of their own pain, and not of how they hurt the people they leave behind. Well, I've never agreed with that. Sometimes pain for those left behind is exactly what the suicide wants to accomplish!
Now, before anyone gets excited, I am extremely unlikely to commit suicide for any reason. In fact, at one of the lowest periods of my life, when I was in therapy, my psychiatrist actually laughed at me when I expressed suicidal thoughts. It's something I might think about, and toy with in an "I'll show you!" way, but not something I'd actually do. When I get depressed, it's not that bad. I usually pull myself out of it by getting mad. And then I get even. I'm quite seriously more likely to murder someone else than to murder myself. That is a possibility....
But it is therapeutic, for me, anyway, to think about suicide sometimes.
I thought about it last Monday. About how if I did off myself, everyone would know why, and who was responsible, and the accumulated guilt, anger, hate, and blame heaped from every direction would revenge me. Very bad vibes. Bad karma on you. "That'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget!" All in all, a very satisfying thought.
But of course it's all completely impossible. I couldn't figure out how to do it neatly. Seems like every way acceptable to me either isn't sure, or is very messy. And I wouldn't want it to be a long time before I'm found, so I'd have to arrange somehow to be found quickly, but that could be suspicious, or mis-timed, and lead to intervention. So the whole thing is impossible. Besides, I can't do it until my house is clean and neat, and my file cabinet makes sense. But if it were possible, wouldn't the aftermath be fun?
That was Monday. By today, I was into murder mode. I couldn't be implicated in any way in anyone's mind. I'd have to hire someone. That's not the hard part, oddly enough. I know people who know people. The hard part is that it would have to look like an accident, and I couldn't think of any plausible accidents that would be sure to get the proper result. Simple severe injury would be worse than nothing at all. Plus I'd have to arrange payment in an untraceable way, and I couldn't figure that out either.
So. It looks like I'm beginning to recover.
(Man - I hope this blog never ends up in court!)
Saturday, June 17, 2006
742 Talk With Piper
I talked with Piper for over two hours today. I needed to talk with someone, and he was a good choice. He has an incredible grasp of people, and from him I could get a male point of view.
He helped me to feel better. He almost convinced me that whatever happens, it will be the best for me.
Almost. I'm still trembling.
He helped me to feel better. He almost convinced me that whatever happens, it will be the best for me.
Almost. I'm still trembling.
Friday, June 16, 2006
741 Friday, Tired
I am very tired today. I did 45 minutes on the treadmill, but that's not why - mostly it's the emotional treadmill I've been on. My body feels like there's a vibrator in my chest, my hands tremble. I've been losing weight slowly, about 5 pounds a month, and I seemed to be at a plateau recently, but since last Saturday I've lost five fast ones. I think all the trembling has been burning up calories. That plus the fact that I don't feel like eating (But don't worry, I do. Just what I've forced myself to eat this week has been all "good stuff". No yummies.)
I'll go into why someday, probably, but not yet. There's a "situation" going on, and I don't want to mention it until it seems resolved. It's nothing terrible in the great scheme of things, nothing to worry about. Daughter might even be happy about it. Damn her.
It's now 7:30 pm-ish, and I think I might go to bed.
Tomorrow I'll have "coffee" (tea for me) with Piper (mostly a social meeting), and in the evening I plan to go to a dance show in New Paltz (I'll see the Gypsy there, and possibly the Pixie, I hope). Sunday I might go to the Clearwater Festival (http://www.clearwater.org/festival.html). Maybe. If I think it's worth the effort.
Blah.
I'll go into why someday, probably, but not yet. There's a "situation" going on, and I don't want to mention it until it seems resolved. It's nothing terrible in the great scheme of things, nothing to worry about. Daughter might even be happy about it. Damn her.
It's now 7:30 pm-ish, and I think I might go to bed.
Tomorrow I'll have "coffee" (tea for me) with Piper (mostly a social meeting), and in the evening I plan to go to a dance show in New Paltz (I'll see the Gypsy there, and possibly the Pixie, I hope). Sunday I might go to the Clearwater Festival (http://www.clearwater.org/festival.html). Maybe. If I think it's worth the effort.
Blah.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
740 Highway Sign
Post #739 has been skipped. I spent much time composing the post this afternoon, then I went to the Third Thursday dinner, and sat next to Roman. We talked after dinner, and much has happened. Shit has hit fans. Blogger doesn't have a facility to make posts private, so it will have to live as a draft for now, until I know where this is going.
In the meantime, folks on AOL and especially those who left AOL will appreciate this:
In the meantime, folks on AOL and especially those who left AOL will appreciate this:
738 Left Hip
Thursday, 06/15/06
Ignore. This is just a note to myself, so if a doctor asks "When did it start?" I can look it up and answer.
Left hip has been waking me early since Monday morning. No pain during the day, no pain sitting, standing, walking, or when I first lie down, but enough pain in the morning to wake me. This is the hip that was dislocated throughout my twenties. (Oddly, it's also the one that gets scanned during bone density tests, and no one ever mentioned any signs of arthritis.)
Ignore. This is just a note to myself, so if a doctor asks "When did it start?" I can look it up and answer.
Left hip has been waking me early since Monday morning. No pain during the day, no pain sitting, standing, walking, or when I first lie down, but enough pain in the morning to wake me. This is the hip that was dislocated throughout my twenties. (Oddly, it's also the one that gets scanned during bone density tests, and no one ever mentioned any signs of arthritis.)
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
737 Wednesday, 06/14/06
Next week's TV Guide arrived today, and Daniel Dae Kim of "Lost" is on the cover. He finally made their "sexiest men" list. Back when I was watching "Lost", I was annoyed that the rags raved about the other guys on that show, but not Kim. I have always thought he was the sexiest. ('Cept he has a major flaw - he's not furry.)
Today:
Today:
- Feeling better in the body. Only major pain left is a knot in my back below the shoulder blades - next to where I had the ruptured disk. Probably from slumping the past few days. I really HAVE to sit and stand straight or my back attacks me!
- A new concern, however, the base of the index and middle toes on my right foot are numb. Noticed it this morning in the shower. Probably a pinched nerve.
- Went to grocery store for water, bought $85 worth of stuff, but forgot the water.
- Did 1/2 hour on the treadmill (1.4 miles - yeah, that's slow, but I'm not after aerobics. For burning calories, distance, not speed, matters), stopped because I didn't want to stress the questionable foot.
- Went to my favorite clothing store for a "private" 50% off sale. I really don't want to buy more clothes, but I'm running out of pants because what I had been wearing are size large or medium, and I'm into size small now. The mediums look baggy, and the large won't even stay up any more. Naturally, nothing that fit me was on sale, but I bought some size small pants anyway.
- Trying on pants from the closet this evening, getting rid of the too big ones, making trash/sell/donate/keep piles. The "sell" pile is the biggest. Would you believe some of the pants in there date from the 70s? And fully half of what I'm throwing away I sewed, as opposed to bought.
- Planning to go to bed early.
736 Paris Is Full of Frenchmen for a Reason
Read this: http://herlocksholmes.blogspot.com/2006/06/blogging-from-paris.html, from Herlock Sholmes. Funny, with too much sad truth.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
735 Tuesday, 6/13
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Brief memory booster - ignore.
Brief memory booster - ignore.
- Tore apart the desk and kitchen, and the file cabinet in the den, frantically searching for the estimated tax forms, due 6/15. They weren't in the folder they were supposed to be in ("To Pay"). I finally found them in the "2006 Taxes" folder (Duh), which at this point is supposed to contain only receipts and check stubs
- Tried on more clothes, packed up some things that are too large
- Ironed bits of yesterday's laundry
- Worked at the Maritime Museum, 4 hours plus travel, locating and scanning paid supporter ads for their yearly money-maker brochure
- Read some blogs
- Wanted to do treadmill and machines, but I hurt. I really hurt. It started Sunday, with my knees. Yesterday I felt like I'd done an uphill marathon, and then was badly beaten at the end. You know how your arm hurts after a flu shot? That's what it feels like, mostly all over my thighs and upper arms, and the "belt" of muscle around my waist. They are actually tender. (No, I take no prescription meds, so it's not a drug reaction.) I'm walking all bent over, like an ancient crone. My stomach is queasy. Saturday night I had fallen asleep reading and woke an hour later with a crick in my neck, and a terrible headache. I took aspirin but couldn't get back to sleep, so I got one hour's sleep that night. It's entirely possible that all this pain is from a pinched/confused nerve in my neck. Or maybe fibromyalgia is tied to the emotions?
- Worked some crossword puzzles
- Weighed me. I am now at 134, down from 172 last August. Slow loss. Oh, well, gives the skin time to shrink. Don't want a saggy baggy look. Current goal is 120. If I ever get there, I might drop it to 115, depending on what I look like. Don't want to get stringy.
734 Monday, 6/12
Monday, June 12, 2006
Brief memory booster - ignore.
Brief memory booster - ignore.
- Paid bills
- Washed dishes
- Read a bunch of blogs
- Laundry, 6 loads - washer is now making a funny whooshing noise when it spins, and dryer takes forever to dry stuff. I wonder if there's a bird nest in the exhaust tube again
- Bank run, deposit checks, get cash
- $53 worth of gas in van
- Grocery store for water
- Undertook major search for Dannon coffee yogurt - sold out everywhere
- Mailed bills and some stuff to daughter
Monday, June 12, 2006
733 Mystery at the Mall
[Later edit - by "the Kingston mall" I mean the big mall near Kingston, i.e., the Hudson Valley Mall, not the "Kingston Mall". I forgot there's actually a strip mall with that name on the other side of town.]
There was a murder at the Kingston mall about a week ago. A woman was killed in the kitchen of a restaurant, where she was working alone. Or something. I'm not up on the details. Murderer still at large, but the police say they have leads.
Saturday night I passed the mall on my way home, a little before midnight. There were police cars with flashing lights all alone the street, and more patrol cars blocking all the entrances and exits. They were not allowing cars in, and were stopping cars coming out, looking inside them with flashlights. (I didn't think Ulster had that many police cars!) The mall closed at about 9 pm, I think, so the cars must have been coming out from the last show at the theater.
I'm curious. I knew there would be nothing in the Sunday paper, so I was waiting for today's paper to find out what was going on.
No mention. Nothing. Anybody else know anything?
There was a murder at the Kingston mall about a week ago. A woman was killed in the kitchen of a restaurant, where she was working alone. Or something. I'm not up on the details. Murderer still at large, but the police say they have leads.
Saturday night I passed the mall on my way home, a little before midnight. There were police cars with flashing lights all alone the street, and more patrol cars blocking all the entrances and exits. They were not allowing cars in, and were stopping cars coming out, looking inside them with flashlights. (I didn't think Ulster had that many police cars!) The mall closed at about 9 pm, I think, so the cars must have been coming out from the last show at the theater.
I'm curious. I knew there would be nothing in the Sunday paper, so I was waiting for today's paper to find out what was going on.
No mention. Nothing. Anybody else know anything?
Sunday, June 11, 2006
732 Moonlight Madness
I went to NJKC's Moonlight Madness last night. May was there. Festivities were supposed to start at 7:30 pm. May arrived at 7:30 am. She got am and pm mixed up. As expected, everyone made fun of her when she wasn't in the room.
When it got late, I was concerned about her driving home. She has no night vision, and she'd been drinking champagne all evening. As expected, everyone else was totally unconcerned. "Well, if she's all over the road, the cops will stop her. Besides, she won't accept help."
I was emotionally drained from a discussion on a different topic earlier in the evening, and wanted to leave early, but I stayed another two hours until May was ready to go, and then I followed her home, and peeled off when she got to her street.
I went to a computer show with Roman early this afternoon, and we talked. Really talked. For once he was completely honest with me. I am doubly emotionally drained now.
I'm going to take a hiatus from journaling for a while. Or maybe I'll just post the briefest list of "this is what I did today", for reminder purposes. I have a lot of work to do and a few things to think about, and, like May, I "won't accept help".
The kimono has closed.
When it got late, I was concerned about her driving home. She has no night vision, and she'd been drinking champagne all evening. As expected, everyone else was totally unconcerned. "Well, if she's all over the road, the cops will stop her. Besides, she won't accept help."
I was emotionally drained from a discussion on a different topic earlier in the evening, and wanted to leave early, but I stayed another two hours until May was ready to go, and then I followed her home, and peeled off when she got to her street.
I went to a computer show with Roman early this afternoon, and we talked. Really talked. For once he was completely honest with me. I am doubly emotionally drained now.
I'm going to take a hiatus from journaling for a while. Or maybe I'll just post the briefest list of "this is what I did today", for reminder purposes. I have a lot of work to do and a few things to think about, and, like May, I "won't accept help".
The kimono has closed.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
731 Football Frenzy
Saturday, June 10, 2006
I almost never willingly watch team sports. Unless I personally know some of the players, I find team sports incredibly boring.
Ten minutes of soccer has captured me. Believe it or not, until this morning, I had never in my life seen a soccer ball in motion.
Wow! This is good! I understand the excitement. Those guys MOVE! Run, run, run. The ball is all over the place. This is FOOTBALL. That American game should more properly be called muscleball, or bullball, or plodball. It's the difference between young goats and old cows. Moooo.
I'm enjoying it and I don't even know the rules. It looks sorta like civilized hockey, I guess. I had assumed that soccer players didn't throw each other around, but they seem to collide a lot, and the one on the receiving end of the collision gets thrown several feet like a rag doll, so it doesn't look like simple tripping, and the announcer uses the word "tackle", so I'll have to find out what the "tackle" rules are. And do the players end up with headaches from getting their necks jammed hitting the ball? That looks dangerous.
One problem I have is that there seem to be white birds flying over the field, or moths close to the camera, and at first I confused them with the ball. Sure made for a lot more activity....
It's very high energy, and not just on the field. I can see how and why the spectators get so het up. It's not simply passion for their teams. Watching the game energizes the watchers. The tension builds. I understand why there are riots after the game, even when "their" team wins. The spring has been wound too tightly and not released.
The organizers should take a cue from concert planners. Responsible concert program planners know that you start out with crowd favorites, move into a mix of new material, slowly build the excitement to a crescendo, and then, and this is the responsible part, you slow things down again. The last few minutes of the concert should be love and nostalgia. If you can get the audience hugging and swaying together and singing along, so much the better. Then you can let them go in peace.
That's why there were riots after the early rap concerts. The concert whipped the audience into a frenzy, didn't bring them back down, and then turned them loose at the height of their explosive potential. I don't know why people were surprised when the crowd exploded when they hit the street. The program planners were directly responsible, and they should have known better. It's not a mystery.
So I see why there may be riots after soccer, no matter who wins. The game builds energy in even the spectators, and whips it to the top in the last few minutes, and then it turns them loose on the streets and on each other. There's a lot of energy that needs to be released.
Maybe they should take a break in the middle of the game and require the spectators to have milk and cookies and take a nap. And then again a few minutes before the end. Or maybe the spectators should be required to link arms and sing and sway to "We Are the World" for a half hour before they can leave. Hand out teddy bears and balloons at the exits.
Purple teddy bears.
I almost never willingly watch team sports. Unless I personally know some of the players, I find team sports incredibly boring.
Ten minutes of soccer has captured me. Believe it or not, until this morning, I had never in my life seen a soccer ball in motion.
Wow! This is good! I understand the excitement. Those guys MOVE! Run, run, run. The ball is all over the place. This is FOOTBALL. That American game should more properly be called muscleball, or bullball, or plodball. It's the difference between young goats and old cows. Moooo.
I'm enjoying it and I don't even know the rules. It looks sorta like civilized hockey, I guess. I had assumed that soccer players didn't throw each other around, but they seem to collide a lot, and the one on the receiving end of the collision gets thrown several feet like a rag doll, so it doesn't look like simple tripping, and the announcer uses the word "tackle", so I'll have to find out what the "tackle" rules are. And do the players end up with headaches from getting their necks jammed hitting the ball? That looks dangerous.
One problem I have is that there seem to be white birds flying over the field, or moths close to the camera, and at first I confused them with the ball. Sure made for a lot more activity....
It's very high energy, and not just on the field. I can see how and why the spectators get so het up. It's not simply passion for their teams. Watching the game energizes the watchers. The tension builds. I understand why there are riots after the game, even when "their" team wins. The spring has been wound too tightly and not released.
The organizers should take a cue from concert planners. Responsible concert program planners know that you start out with crowd favorites, move into a mix of new material, slowly build the excitement to a crescendo, and then, and this is the responsible part, you slow things down again. The last few minutes of the concert should be love and nostalgia. If you can get the audience hugging and swaying together and singing along, so much the better. Then you can let them go in peace.
That's why there were riots after the early rap concerts. The concert whipped the audience into a frenzy, didn't bring them back down, and then turned them loose at the height of their explosive potential. I don't know why people were surprised when the crowd exploded when they hit the street. The program planners were directly responsible, and they should have known better. It's not a mystery.
So I see why there may be riots after soccer, no matter who wins. The game builds energy in even the spectators, and whips it to the top in the last few minutes, and then it turns them loose on the streets and on each other. There's a lot of energy that needs to be released.
Maybe they should take a break in the middle of the game and require the spectators to have milk and cookies and take a nap. And then again a few minutes before the end. Or maybe the spectators should be required to link arms and sing and sway to "We Are the World" for a half hour before they can leave. Hand out teddy bears and balloons at the exits.
Purple teddy bears.
Friday, June 09, 2006
730 May's Fading Roses
Friday, June 9, 2006
I talked with May Wednesday evening. She called me with a problem she had, wanting advice.
In the course of discussing her problem (what to do about a young family member of hers who she thinks is in trouble), I told her about my youngest sister, and how guilty I felt when she died. She was in serious trouble, and I knew it, and I tried to help, but she wouldn't accept any help. I was waiting for her to "hit bottom", but she up and died first. For years after, I felt so very guilty that I didn't just kidnap her and force help on her. That I didn't recognize that she WAS at bottom, and maybe all I had to do was insist. I was her big sister. I felt responsible.
That's all true, and I do still feel guilty, but the purpose of my telling May this was to get her to tell me how it wasn't my fault, and how if my sister wouldn't accept my help, there was nothing I could do, which she of course did. My purpose was to help May realize for herself that she could offer, but if the offer was rejected, she shouldn't feel guilty. People have their own fates to work out. Sometimes it's not so bad if you go into it with that thought. You do all you can. That's all you can do. You can't feel guilty if it's not enough.
And here I am in the situation again.
May's chief activity the past year and a half, since she finally settled her late husband's estate, has been planning the dispersal of her own (very large!) estate. They had no children, and she has been estranged from most of her siblings. When her husband was alive, they rarely socialized, rarely even left the house. Now she's all alone there, and except for legal and medical appointments, I doubt that she ever leaves the house or sees anyone other than the lawn people and the cleaning lady. She's a recluse.
I have invited her out a number of times, but she refuses. I've tried to suggest that she get involved in something - political action or support, something artsy-fartsy, philanthropy, volunteering, something to feel connected, but she tells me she doesn't need connecting. She has some amazing stories of life in the upper levels of The Company, and I have suggested that she write them down, maybe even write a book. But, she's not interested.
Wednesday evening, her voice was very slow and halting. She didn't sound good at all. Those of us who were her friends suspect that she drinks too much. She didn't seem drunk - didn't get maudlin as she does when she's had a bit too much. But I almost hope she was drunk when she called, because if she wasn't, that's even more worrisome. Like her clock is winding down.
Her old friends have pretty much stopped calling her, because, well, we don't know her drinking schedule. She calls them (us) sometimes, but the last few times her name came up at social events lately, I've been disturbed by the way they talk about her now. "Did she call you about...?" "Oh, God, yes. I couldn't get her off the phone!" "The same stories over and over...." "She called me at 3 am ..." I mention that I'm worried about her, and they say yes, but what can you do. And then they laugh, because her catchphrase is "Well, what can I say", and then she proceeds to say it, in --- a --- very --- slow --- halting --- voice. And she'll say the same thing several times.
I'm troubled because Wednesday evening, when I said I wanted to get her out into the world again, she responded that "The world would be better off if I stepped in front of a bus tomorrow." And during the hour conversation, she said several other things like that. I told her she needed something to make her feel useful, to grab her interest and use her talents, and she said she didn't want to feel useful.
I want to do something, but there doesn't seem to be anything I can do that won't piss her off. She sees a doctor regularly, and if he doesn't recognize a depression, or doesn't think it needs treating, she won't hear it from me.
I guess I have to just keep telling myself, "if the offer is rejected, you shouldn't feel guilty. People have their own fates to work out. You do all you can. That's all you can do. You can't feel guilty if it's not enough", and hope it sinks in this time.
Incidentally, May is only three years older than I am. Her talking as if her life is over scares me, on several levels.
I talked with May Wednesday evening. She called me with a problem she had, wanting advice.
In the course of discussing her problem (what to do about a young family member of hers who she thinks is in trouble), I told her about my youngest sister, and how guilty I felt when she died. She was in serious trouble, and I knew it, and I tried to help, but she wouldn't accept any help. I was waiting for her to "hit bottom", but she up and died first. For years after, I felt so very guilty that I didn't just kidnap her and force help on her. That I didn't recognize that she WAS at bottom, and maybe all I had to do was insist. I was her big sister. I felt responsible.
That's all true, and I do still feel guilty, but the purpose of my telling May this was to get her to tell me how it wasn't my fault, and how if my sister wouldn't accept my help, there was nothing I could do, which she of course did. My purpose was to help May realize for herself that she could offer, but if the offer was rejected, she shouldn't feel guilty. People have their own fates to work out. Sometimes it's not so bad if you go into it with that thought. You do all you can. That's all you can do. You can't feel guilty if it's not enough.
And here I am in the situation again.
May's chief activity the past year and a half, since she finally settled her late husband's estate, has been planning the dispersal of her own (very large!) estate. They had no children, and she has been estranged from most of her siblings. When her husband was alive, they rarely socialized, rarely even left the house. Now she's all alone there, and except for legal and medical appointments, I doubt that she ever leaves the house or sees anyone other than the lawn people and the cleaning lady. She's a recluse.
I have invited her out a number of times, but she refuses. I've tried to suggest that she get involved in something - political action or support, something artsy-fartsy, philanthropy, volunteering, something to feel connected, but she tells me she doesn't need connecting. She has some amazing stories of life in the upper levels of The Company, and I have suggested that she write them down, maybe even write a book. But, she's not interested.
Wednesday evening, her voice was very slow and halting. She didn't sound good at all. Those of us who were her friends suspect that she drinks too much. She didn't seem drunk - didn't get maudlin as she does when she's had a bit too much. But I almost hope she was drunk when she called, because if she wasn't, that's even more worrisome. Like her clock is winding down.
Her old friends have pretty much stopped calling her, because, well, we don't know her drinking schedule. She calls them (us) sometimes, but the last few times her name came up at social events lately, I've been disturbed by the way they talk about her now. "Did she call you about...?" "Oh, God, yes. I couldn't get her off the phone!" "The same stories over and over...." "She called me at 3 am ..." I mention that I'm worried about her, and they say yes, but what can you do. And then they laugh, because her catchphrase is "Well, what can I say", and then she proceeds to say it, in --- a --- very --- slow --- halting --- voice. And she'll say the same thing several times.
I'm troubled because Wednesday evening, when I said I wanted to get her out into the world again, she responded that "The world would be better off if I stepped in front of a bus tomorrow." And during the hour conversation, she said several other things like that. I told her she needed something to make her feel useful, to grab her interest and use her talents, and she said she didn't want to feel useful.
I want to do something, but there doesn't seem to be anything I can do that won't piss her off. She sees a doctor regularly, and if he doesn't recognize a depression, or doesn't think it needs treating, she won't hear it from me.
I guess I have to just keep telling myself, "if the offer is rejected, you shouldn't feel guilty. People have their own fates to work out. You do all you can. That's all you can do. You can't feel guilty if it's not enough", and hope it sinks in this time.
Incidentally, May is only three years older than I am. Her talking as if her life is over scares me, on several levels.
729 Warriors
Friday, June 9, 2006
I watched Once Were Warriors today. I found it a very powerful movie.
I don't much comment on movies. When I used to go to "message" movies with friends, they always wanted to discuss it afterward, over dinner or drinks. I'd mostly remain silent. If a movie had any meaning to me at all, I'd want to think about it for a while before expressing an opinion. If it had no meaning at all, why discuss it.
I also seldom recommend movies to friends, because I don't think what you get out of a viewing is necessarily universal. Meaning doesn't come from the movie - it comes from what you bring to it. A good movie will pull something out of you, force you to look at what is inside you in perhaps a different way. So my opinion would probably mean nothing to anyone else. (Beyond "Yeah, it's a good story/exciting/romantic/funny.")
"Once Were Warriors" affected me because of the subject matter. It was more powerful even than it should have been because the woman looked a lot like my mother. But my mother wasn't strong. She sacrificed us. Sometimes I don't know whether to love her, hate her, or feel sorry for her, and this movie didn't help with that confusion. She wasn't strong enough, but can I blame her for that?
The movie also reminded me of how much abuse the human body can take, and still keep ticking. You don't have to do much. It just fixes itself. The skin closes, the bruises fade, the bones knit. You learn to compensate for what doesn't work right any more.
The heart and mind, however, are much more fragile. Breaks sometimes never close, and you can't ignore the scars.
I watched Once Were Warriors today. I found it a very powerful movie.
I don't much comment on movies. When I used to go to "message" movies with friends, they always wanted to discuss it afterward, over dinner or drinks. I'd mostly remain silent. If a movie had any meaning to me at all, I'd want to think about it for a while before expressing an opinion. If it had no meaning at all, why discuss it.
I also seldom recommend movies to friends, because I don't think what you get out of a viewing is necessarily universal. Meaning doesn't come from the movie - it comes from what you bring to it. A good movie will pull something out of you, force you to look at what is inside you in perhaps a different way. So my opinion would probably mean nothing to anyone else. (Beyond "Yeah, it's a good story/exciting/romantic/funny.")
"Once Were Warriors" affected me because of the subject matter. It was more powerful even than it should have been because the woman looked a lot like my mother. But my mother wasn't strong. She sacrificed us. Sometimes I don't know whether to love her, hate her, or feel sorry for her, and this movie didn't help with that confusion. She wasn't strong enough, but can I blame her for that?
The movie also reminded me of how much abuse the human body can take, and still keep ticking. You don't have to do much. It just fixes itself. The skin closes, the bruises fade, the bones knit. You learn to compensate for what doesn't work right any more.
The heart and mind, however, are much more fragile. Breaks sometimes never close, and you can't ignore the scars.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
728 Kids Are Fun
Thursday, June 8, 2006
I'm on the volunteer group's SWAT team, which means they can call me in when they need emergency help. I got a call to "help out" at a picnic, held this morning and early afternoon at a riverfront park. One of the Kingston schools matches fourth graders with elderly pen pals, as a writing exercise, and for socialization. This picnic is for the kids and elders to finally meet (end of the school year, end of the exercise).
A few of the elderly pen pals were unable to attend the picnic, so I was asked to act as a substitute pen pal. Actually, when I was first called, I thought I'd be "working" there, like cooking hot dogs or organizing games or something. When I discovered I was going to be paired with a kid for the day, I wasn't all that enthusiastic.
Fifty fourth graders, and about as many senior adults (about a third with walkers). The "program" was mainly ecology. We were going to clean up the beach, and hike to a stream, and take and test water samples from the stream and the river.
My kid was a tall (taller than me) strawberry blond 10-year-old girl (who is going to be a heartbreaker in a few years), who was plainly disappointed that her real pen pal hadn't come, but eventually we got along just fine.
Well, it was high tide, so there wasn't much to do on the beach. Any crud was under water. I heard that at low tide they can collect everything from bits of plastic to truck tires.
We hiked up along the river a ways (fifty kids, the three ecology folks, the two teachers, a very few seniors, and me) 'til we got to the stream. Just upstream from where the path crossed on a little footbridge there was a 2-level waterfall, and sitting on the middle ledge was the biggest danged snapping turtle I've ever seen alive.
I was interested in the turtle, of course, but I was surprised at how much joy I took in watching the kids react to the turtle. It was great. They all crowded on the little bridge, leaning over the railing. Their comments were priceless. Not so much what they said, but the way they said it.
Later, on the beach, one of the boys found a huge dead eel. The kids all crowded around, and it was funny how a kid would push to the inner ring of the crowd, someone would poke the eel with a stick, and the kid would scream and push their way out. The crowd was roiling with kids pushing in, screaming, and pushing back out. Then a girl managed to get a sturdy stick under it and lift it up to toss it in the river, and the whole ring screamed and widened out.
The beach looked nice, all groomed sand and all, but none of the beaches along this section of the Hudson can be trod barefoot, because they are all full of water chestnut seed pods, which are pretty, but very nasty. The photo at the link (scroll down to it) shows the four sharp "horns", but what it doesn't show is that each of those four horns starts out tipped with a barbed spine. If one of those barbs sticks into you, it doesn't come out without cutting. I was amused that the kids called the nuts "cow's heads" (from the side, they do look bovine), "devil's heads", and the one I liked best, "devil's eggs".
There was an open grassy area where the kids played whiffle ball and kick ball, with a pole fence bordering a steep overgrown drop-off down to the river. They were playing kickball, and the ball sailed over the fence and down the bank. (If the ball went into the river, it would be gone forever.) Naturally, there was an immediate surge of kids to the fence, all of them, and a few of the boys went right over the fence and started down the bank. I happened to be the only adult there, and I yelled "Everybody this side of the fence! Now!" and I was absolutely amazed when the boys immediately reversed and came back. Good kids! The ecology guy (a college student) went down for the ball, which had been stopped at the edge of the water by a drift-log.
So, I had a good time. I'd forgotten how much fun a herd of good kids can be.
Going to play Trivia tonight with Tom.
I'm on the volunteer group's SWAT team, which means they can call me in when they need emergency help. I got a call to "help out" at a picnic, held this morning and early afternoon at a riverfront park. One of the Kingston schools matches fourth graders with elderly pen pals, as a writing exercise, and for socialization. This picnic is for the kids and elders to finally meet (end of the school year, end of the exercise).
A few of the elderly pen pals were unable to attend the picnic, so I was asked to act as a substitute pen pal. Actually, when I was first called, I thought I'd be "working" there, like cooking hot dogs or organizing games or something. When I discovered I was going to be paired with a kid for the day, I wasn't all that enthusiastic.
Fifty fourth graders, and about as many senior adults (about a third with walkers). The "program" was mainly ecology. We were going to clean up the beach, and hike to a stream, and take and test water samples from the stream and the river.
My kid was a tall (taller than me) strawberry blond 10-year-old girl (who is going to be a heartbreaker in a few years), who was plainly disappointed that her real pen pal hadn't come, but eventually we got along just fine.
Well, it was high tide, so there wasn't much to do on the beach. Any crud was under water. I heard that at low tide they can collect everything from bits of plastic to truck tires.
We hiked up along the river a ways (fifty kids, the three ecology folks, the two teachers, a very few seniors, and me) 'til we got to the stream. Just upstream from where the path crossed on a little footbridge there was a 2-level waterfall, and sitting on the middle ledge was the biggest danged snapping turtle I've ever seen alive.
I was interested in the turtle, of course, but I was surprised at how much joy I took in watching the kids react to the turtle. It was great. They all crowded on the little bridge, leaning over the railing. Their comments were priceless. Not so much what they said, but the way they said it.
Later, on the beach, one of the boys found a huge dead eel. The kids all crowded around, and it was funny how a kid would push to the inner ring of the crowd, someone would poke the eel with a stick, and the kid would scream and push their way out. The crowd was roiling with kids pushing in, screaming, and pushing back out. Then a girl managed to get a sturdy stick under it and lift it up to toss it in the river, and the whole ring screamed and widened out.
The beach looked nice, all groomed sand and all, but none of the beaches along this section of the Hudson can be trod barefoot, because they are all full of water chestnut seed pods, which are pretty, but very nasty. The photo at the link (scroll down to it) shows the four sharp "horns", but what it doesn't show is that each of those four horns starts out tipped with a barbed spine. If one of those barbs sticks into you, it doesn't come out without cutting. I was amused that the kids called the nuts "cow's heads" (from the side, they do look bovine), "devil's heads", and the one I liked best, "devil's eggs".
There was an open grassy area where the kids played whiffle ball and kick ball, with a pole fence bordering a steep overgrown drop-off down to the river. They were playing kickball, and the ball sailed over the fence and down the bank. (If the ball went into the river, it would be gone forever.) Naturally, there was an immediate surge of kids to the fence, all of them, and a few of the boys went right over the fence and started down the bank. I happened to be the only adult there, and I yelled "Everybody this side of the fence! Now!" and I was absolutely amazed when the boys immediately reversed and came back. Good kids! The ecology guy (a college student) went down for the ball, which had been stopped at the edge of the water by a drift-log.
So, I had a good time. I'd forgotten how much fun a herd of good kids can be.
Going to play Trivia tonight with Tom.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
727 And It's All His Fault!
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
[Later edit - I had to redo this because many of the links were wrong - Lance Link got into everything!]
I called Roman this afternoon and told him that he has ruined my life, destroyed my schedule, caused my bills to remain unpaid, and delayed the cleaning of my house. It's all his fault!
After he installed my DVD player and left last night, I handled some email and futzed around on the internet a bit, and then I started playing with the DVD player. I watched Stomp Out Loud, and then watched Koyaanisqatsi, which had been highly recommended by Roman and by RossoRaven (here).
I must confess I didn't get as much out of Koyaanisqatsi as either of them did, because I was sitting too close to a large screen, and parts of it made me seasick. Plus there are all these people running around in late 70's clothing and hair, and I REMEMBER! that - oh good lord, how ugly we were then. What were we thinking! Anyway, I was fascinated by that (younger folk won't have the same "oh my God, I actually WORE that!) But, even with all my distractions, I did get the point. Even more than some might, because I hate crowds, I hate hurrying and rushing, I want peace. I'll watch it again from a bit of a distance, once I'm over the fashion shock.
Anyway, all of a sudden it was 4 am. I got to sleep a little after 5 am. Piper woke me with a phone call at 11 am. Having told Piper my player was working, I then had to watch the movie Piper had been urging me to see, Under the Tuscan Sun, followed by The Bridge, which I remembered from 20 years ago and have been anxious to see again ever since I bought the DVD last year (do follow the Bridge link and read the online reviews at the bottom).
And that's when I called Roman and cursed him out. He laughed at me.
I've got several seasons of Lancelot Link and Red Dwarf, Whale Rider and Once Were Warriors, some bellydance performances, and the follow-on to Koyaanisqatsi, Powaqqatsi, and ... I may be in serious trouble here.
[Later edit - I had to redo this because many of the links were wrong - Lance Link got into everything!]
I called Roman this afternoon and told him that he has ruined my life, destroyed my schedule, caused my bills to remain unpaid, and delayed the cleaning of my house. It's all his fault!
After he installed my DVD player and left last night, I handled some email and futzed around on the internet a bit, and then I started playing with the DVD player. I watched Stomp Out Loud, and then watched Koyaanisqatsi, which had been highly recommended by Roman and by RossoRaven (here).
I must confess I didn't get as much out of Koyaanisqatsi as either of them did, because I was sitting too close to a large screen, and parts of it made me seasick. Plus there are all these people running around in late 70's clothing and hair, and I REMEMBER! that - oh good lord, how ugly we were then. What were we thinking! Anyway, I was fascinated by that (younger folk won't have the same "oh my God, I actually WORE that!) But, even with all my distractions, I did get the point. Even more than some might, because I hate crowds, I hate hurrying and rushing, I want peace. I'll watch it again from a bit of a distance, once I'm over the fashion shock.
Anyway, all of a sudden it was 4 am. I got to sleep a little after 5 am. Piper woke me with a phone call at 11 am. Having told Piper my player was working, I then had to watch the movie Piper had been urging me to see, Under the Tuscan Sun, followed by The Bridge, which I remembered from 20 years ago and have been anxious to see again ever since I bought the DVD last year (do follow the Bridge link and read the online reviews at the bottom).
And that's when I called Roman and cursed him out. He laughed at me.
I've got several seasons of Lancelot Link and Red Dwarf, Whale Rider and Once Were Warriors, some bellydance performances, and the follow-on to Koyaanisqatsi, Powaqqatsi, and ... I may be in serious trouble here.
726 Time to Move On, Folks
On the subject of the current rash of 9/11 movies, Israeli blogger Lisa (On The Face) says "Would it be hugely insensitive of me to ask Americans, nearly five years after 9/11, to please get over it already? Really, I think it's time. There have been many disasters all over the world - of both the natural and the terrorist variety - since then, and the ability to feel empathy is truly more admirable than perpetual navel gazing." [Italics mine - I really liked that part.]
I strongly agree.
It's a bit paranoid to think this, but I can't help wondering if there's a purpose to these movies coming out now beyond the simple "it's long enough ago that we can tell the story without hurting people" that we are offered. Frankly, that explanation doesn't hold water. I can't help wondering if there isn't another reason, like to keep the feelings alive, to remind us, to counteract growing anti-war sentiment, so the Bush administration can keep beating the drums of fear.
I strongly agree.
It's a bit paranoid to think this, but I can't help wondering if there's a purpose to these movies coming out now beyond the simple "it's long enough ago that we can tell the story without hurting people" that we are offered. Frankly, that explanation doesn't hold water. I can't help wondering if there isn't another reason, like to keep the feelings alive, to remind us, to counteract growing anti-war sentiment, so the Bush administration can keep beating the drums of fear.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
725 06/06/06, a Nice Day
My take on "666" as "the number of the beast" is here, a post from last April.
Roman was teaching a class in Kingston last evening, so we had a diner dinner together before his class. He was going to come here on Wednesday to finish setting up my DVD player and "whatever else I needed him for", but he called early this afternoon - he wouldn't be able to make it Wednesday, so could he come today? In about an hour and a half?
Aaaagh! The house was a worse mess than the last time he was here because I've been pulling things out of closets, and I was filthy from lugging stuff down to the basement all morning, but I said ok. Quick shower, quick trip to the grocery store so I could feed him, clean clothes but no time for makeup, and he arrived about 4 pm during a phone call from Daughter.
I enlisted his help to pound stakes into the ground along the newly marked property line, and then he read to me from a book he had brought, while I was putting dinner together (and of course nothing came out right, sigh, I'll never master cooking...) and we talked about bunches of stuff, then he finished hooking up the DVD player and taught me how to use it, and left about 9:30ish.
It was nice.
I'm sorry, world, but I really do like him.
Roman was teaching a class in Kingston last evening, so we had a diner dinner together before his class. He was going to come here on Wednesday to finish setting up my DVD player and "whatever else I needed him for", but he called early this afternoon - he wouldn't be able to make it Wednesday, so could he come today? In about an hour and a half?
Aaaagh! The house was a worse mess than the last time he was here because I've been pulling things out of closets, and I was filthy from lugging stuff down to the basement all morning, but I said ok. Quick shower, quick trip to the grocery store so I could feed him, clean clothes but no time for makeup, and he arrived about 4 pm during a phone call from Daughter.
I enlisted his help to pound stakes into the ground along the newly marked property line, and then he read to me from a book he had brought, while I was putting dinner together (and of course nothing came out right, sigh, I'll never master cooking...) and we talked about bunches of stuff, then he finished hooking up the DVD player and taught me how to use it, and left about 9:30ish.
It was nice.
I'm sorry, world, but I really do like him.
724 Not The Cat - Phooey!
Well, it wasn't The Cat. Tsk. He had the same head shape, and accent, and did The Cat's celebratory pirouette perfectly - rocked back on the heels and everything - so perfectly that I heard The Cat's "eeeeeee-yow!" during it.
But it wasn't The Cat. In a comment on my post, RossoRaven said "The Cat is alive and well and still acting, but, he wasn't in Ocean's 11. His name is Danny John-Jules."
So I undertook a major search and located my Red Dwarf DVDs to verify that we were both talking about the same original Cat, and sure 'nuff The Cat was played by Danny John-Jules. Then I searched out 2001's Ocean's Eleven cast list, and Basher Tarr, the explosives expert, was played by Don Cheadle. (He was also the lead in Hotel Rwanda.)
Well, I'm disappointed, but I'm still happy that The Cat is alive and well and still acting.
But it wasn't The Cat. In a comment on my post, RossoRaven said "The Cat is alive and well and still acting, but, he wasn't in Ocean's 11. His name is Danny John-Jules."
So I undertook a major search and located my Red Dwarf DVDs to verify that we were both talking about the same original Cat, and sure 'nuff The Cat was played by Danny John-Jules. Then I searched out 2001's Ocean's Eleven cast list, and Basher Tarr, the explosives expert, was played by Don Cheadle. (He was also the lead in Hotel Rwanda.)
Well, I'm disappointed, but I'm still happy that The Cat is alive and well and still acting.
Monday, June 05, 2006
723 Intimi - Dating Redux
Well, I did watch the credits at the end of "Ocean's Eleven", and they listed the actors alphabetically, so I don't know if it was The Cat or not. But I'm pretty sure, and it pleases me to think so, so I shall.
I got a comment on 722 Intimi - Dating? that led me to see things more from the male point of view. The comment and my response:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
quiet and comfort, softness, no challenge. Someone who will say "Yes, Dear" all the time.
He's even said that, that he is "more comfortable" with the other woman than with me. I thought at the time that he was referring to the way I rake him over the coals every so often for his duplicity. I've told him that she's all sweetness and light because she doesn't know what's going on, and I'm thunder and lightning because I do, and it's unfair for him to compare us when she doesn't know.
But that isn't it at all.
He recently told me that she's "not a candidate for Mensa" (his words), that she's not too bright. This in response to my saying I didn't understand how she could accept his lies, how she hadn't already figured out something was going on, I mean there are clues everywhere.
So there it is. He prefers her because she's not too bright. That makes her "comfortable". No challenge.
The fool. He doesn't realize that all his complaints about his previous wife have to do with her stupidity and lack of common sense. He chooses stupid women because they are comfortable, and then when he lives with them, their stupidity eventually drives him crazy. Someday he'll see it for himself, but...
I can't wait that long.
Which is very sad, because we really are extremely well matched. I find him more intelligent than I, because he has attributes I lack, and the key is that I am smart enough to fully appreciate his intelligence, and will continue to do so. His usual choices in women eventually find him merely exacting, demanding, and annoying. Which I'm sure he's not yet with her, because he's still in the "comfortable" stage.
But just wait until she allows him to move in with her. And he gets bored and frustrated.
I can't wait that long.
Crap!
I got a comment on 722 Intimi - Dating? that led me to see things more from the male point of view. The comment and my response:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
quiet and comfort, softness, no challenge. Someone who will say "Yes, Dear" all the time.
He's even said that, that he is "more comfortable" with the other woman than with me. I thought at the time that he was referring to the way I rake him over the coals every so often for his duplicity. I've told him that she's all sweetness and light because she doesn't know what's going on, and I'm thunder and lightning because I do, and it's unfair for him to compare us when she doesn't know.
But that isn't it at all.
He recently told me that she's "not a candidate for Mensa" (his words), that she's not too bright. This in response to my saying I didn't understand how she could accept his lies, how she hadn't already figured out something was going on, I mean there are clues everywhere.
So there it is. He prefers her because she's not too bright. That makes her "comfortable". No challenge.
The fool. He doesn't realize that all his complaints about his previous wife have to do with her stupidity and lack of common sense. He chooses stupid women because they are comfortable, and then when he lives with them, their stupidity eventually drives him crazy. Someday he'll see it for himself, but...
I can't wait that long.
Which is very sad, because we really are extremely well matched. I find him more intelligent than I, because he has attributes I lack, and the key is that I am smart enough to fully appreciate his intelligence, and will continue to do so. His usual choices in women eventually find him merely exacting, demanding, and annoying. Which I'm sure he's not yet with her, because he's still in the "comfortable" stage.
But just wait until she allows him to move in with her. And he gets bored and frustrated.
I can't wait that long.
Crap!
Sunday, June 04, 2006
722 Is That The Cat?
The movie "Ocean's Eleven" is on TV right now. I happened to glance up, and I saw some men sitting against a wall, waiting for a vault door to blow open. The camera focused on a black guy - the explosives expert I suspect, and I thought "He looks familiar."
The vault door blew open, and the black guy walked up to it --- and did The Cat's pirouette! And then he spoke, and that sealed it. I recognized the voice. I think it's The Cat from "Red Dwarf"!
Of course he's a lot older now, and I'm not certain, but if it is him I'm glad to see he's well and doing well. I'll have to watch the credits and see if I can catch the name. (They run movie credits so tiny and so fast on TV - I find that annoying.)
The vault door blew open, and the black guy walked up to it --- and did The Cat's pirouette! And then he spoke, and that sealed it. I recognized the voice. I think it's The Cat from "Red Dwarf"!
Of course he's a lot older now, and I'm not certain, but if it is him I'm glad to see he's well and doing well. I'll have to watch the credits and see if I can catch the name. (They run movie credits so tiny and so fast on TV - I find that annoying.)
721 Intimi - Dating?
Sunday, June 04, 2006
I'm meeting men on the dating sites (more than I've mentioned here), and none of them are working out. There are some who were very interested in me, but I didn't want them. And there were a few that I found very interesting, but who found me ... intimidating.
That's not just a nice word for it - several of them came right out and used the word, or talked around it, but that's pretty much what they meant.
One exact quote, "You're smarter than I am, and that bothers me. I'll always wonder." That from a law school graduate. He said it in different ways several times that evening. I kept denying it, he was much better educated and experienced than I, but he seemed to get more and more depressed. At the end of the evening came the "intimidating".
Another said "You know, we've been together for four hours this evening, and you haven't once mentioned clothes shopping or celebrities."
Me: "Is that good or bad?"
He: "Bad. Everything you say seems to have meaning. I'm not used to that."
That evening he was eager for another date, but then he later cancelled. (By email, the day after a late night one-hour very enjoyable telephone call during which he told me he wanted my body, then apologized for being so forward. I laughed and said Iwas flattered. He said he felt stupid blurting like that.)
I've had two longterm male friends in the past six weeks come right out and admit I scare them. One said it's because I can see through him, he can't manage or manipulate me. The other wouldn't explain, but I suspect it's similar reasons.
(They should talk to Roman. He can manage and manipulate me. Maybe that's why I want him.)
I don't see how I come across as smart. Or "intimidating". I do score high on tests, but I'm not a brainiac. I have a memory like a sieve. I don't initiate conversations about literature, or philosophy, or current events. I don't spout facts. In fact, I don't know a whole lot about anything. If you've been reading this blog, you know that already. I don't tell men they're wrong, no matter what they say. If I don't agree I just ask them to explain it to me. I don't know how to talk about inane things. I don't understand social chitchat at all. I've watched and listened, but I just can't do it. I'm not very assertive, let alone aggressive, and certainly not on a first or second date. And of course I don't mention Mensa.
If I've got smarts, about the only way it might show is that I understand things quickly. I pick up on clues (if I'm relaxed enough to notice, that is). I understand relationships between ideas and between statements, and between ideas and statements. I'm not satisfied with the surface only, I want to see underneath, to understand not just what, but how and why.
The men I don't find interesting are perhaps unable to notice that about me, it blows right past them. And the men I do find interesting are aware enough to pick up on it, and it bothers them.
Why?
Do they find me too intense? Too much work? Boring???? (Can't be boring. We talk up storms, and they get really interested in the conversations.)
Is it that they're afraid of me? Afraid they can't control me? Afraid I'd be too difficult to satisfy?
At any rate, everytime I've dropped a man so far, it's been mainly because I don't find his mind, the way his mind works, fascinating.
And every man whom I have found interesting seems to have been put off by the way my mind works. (Back in the 60s and 70s, men often told me my mind was "too masculine". Right after they called me a sex kitten. Sigh.)
Very frustrating.
Just something else I don't understand.
I'm meeting men on the dating sites (more than I've mentioned here), and none of them are working out. There are some who were very interested in me, but I didn't want them. And there were a few that I found very interesting, but who found me ... intimidating.
That's not just a nice word for it - several of them came right out and used the word, or talked around it, but that's pretty much what they meant.
One exact quote, "You're smarter than I am, and that bothers me. I'll always wonder." That from a law school graduate. He said it in different ways several times that evening. I kept denying it, he was much better educated and experienced than I, but he seemed to get more and more depressed. At the end of the evening came the "intimidating".
Another said "You know, we've been together for four hours this evening, and you haven't once mentioned clothes shopping or celebrities."
Me: "Is that good or bad?"
He: "Bad. Everything you say seems to have meaning. I'm not used to that."
That evening he was eager for another date, but then he later cancelled. (By email, the day after a late night one-hour very enjoyable telephone call during which he told me he wanted my body, then apologized for being so forward. I laughed and said Iwas flattered. He said he felt stupid blurting like that.)
I've had two longterm male friends in the past six weeks come right out and admit I scare them. One said it's because I can see through him, he can't manage or manipulate me. The other wouldn't explain, but I suspect it's similar reasons.
(They should talk to Roman. He can manage and manipulate me. Maybe that's why I want him.)
I don't see how I come across as smart. Or "intimidating". I do score high on tests, but I'm not a brainiac. I have a memory like a sieve. I don't initiate conversations about literature, or philosophy, or current events. I don't spout facts. In fact, I don't know a whole lot about anything. If you've been reading this blog, you know that already. I don't tell men they're wrong, no matter what they say. If I don't agree I just ask them to explain it to me. I don't know how to talk about inane things. I don't understand social chitchat at all. I've watched and listened, but I just can't do it. I'm not very assertive, let alone aggressive, and certainly not on a first or second date. And of course I don't mention Mensa.
If I've got smarts, about the only way it might show is that I understand things quickly. I pick up on clues (if I'm relaxed enough to notice, that is). I understand relationships between ideas and between statements, and between ideas and statements. I'm not satisfied with the surface only, I want to see underneath, to understand not just what, but how and why.
The men I don't find interesting are perhaps unable to notice that about me, it blows right past them. And the men I do find interesting are aware enough to pick up on it, and it bothers them.
Why?
Do they find me too intense? Too much work? Boring???? (Can't be boring. We talk up storms, and they get really interested in the conversations.)
Is it that they're afraid of me? Afraid they can't control me? Afraid I'd be too difficult to satisfy?
At any rate, everytime I've dropped a man so far, it's been mainly because I don't find his mind, the way his mind works, fascinating.
And every man whom I have found interesting seems to have been put off by the way my mind works. (Back in the 60s and 70s, men often told me my mind was "too masculine". Right after they called me a sex kitten. Sigh.)
Very frustrating.
Just something else I don't understand.
720 French Poem Found!
Blogger "Herlock Sholmes" of Dubai ( The eternal silence of infinite spaces scares me ) has located the poem for me! Fantastic! I LOVE the internet, and I LOVE the blogging community!
Amours de Marie
1556
Ce vase plein de lait, ce panier plein de fleurs,
Afin que, vif et mort, ton corps ne soit que roses.
— Pierre Ronsard (1524-1585)
(Via http://abardel.free.fr/ )
A translation (although not strictly literal) by Michael E. Lloyd may be found at http://www.bewilderingstories.com/issue176/Ronsard.html.
How did this happen? Shortly after I posted my request, I read Roba's request for "a poem generally about the ephemeral nature of time and how much things may change". I left a comment on her blog that if anyone could find my poem, it might also fill her needs. Herlock Sholmes read her journal, saw my request, recognized the poem, and found it for me online. How cool is that?
Thank you Herlock, whoever you are!
Amours de Marie
1556
Comme on voit sur la branche, au mois de mai, la rose,
En sa belle jeunesse, en sa première fleur,
Rendre le ciel jaloux de sa vive couleur,
Quand l'aube, de ses pleurs, au point du jour l'arrose;
La Grâce dans sa feuille, et l'amour se repose,
Embaumant les jardins et les arbres d'odeur;
Mais, battue ou de pluie ou d'excessive ardeur,
Languissante, elle meurt, feuille à feuille déclose;
Ainsi, en ta première et jeune nouveauté,
Quand la terre et le ciel honoraient ta beauté,
La Parque t'a tuée, et cendre tu reposes.
Ce vase plein de lait, ce panier plein de fleurs,
Afin que, vif et mort, ton corps ne soit que roses.
— Pierre Ronsard (1524-1585)
(Via http://abardel.free.fr/ )
A translation (although not strictly literal) by Michael E. Lloyd may be found at http://www.bewilderingstories.com/issue176/Ronsard.html.
How did this happen? Shortly after I posted my request, I read Roba's request for "a poem generally about the ephemeral nature of time and how much things may change". I left a comment on her blog that if anyone could find my poem, it might also fill her needs. Herlock Sholmes read her journal, saw my request, recognized the poem, and found it for me online. How cool is that?
Thank you Herlock, whoever you are!
Saturday, June 03, 2006
#719 The Chinese Auction
I thought the Bob Guccione auction was strange. This one was as strange, in a different way.
There are usually a few hundred people at George's summer auctions. Tonight I counted 26 people on my side of the aisle, and there were no more than that on the other side. Fewer than a third of the seats were filled, when it's usually SRO. There were almost none of the usual dealers there, and I saw only one person who (whom?) I know is from NYC (and it was odd that she was there at all, because she usually comes for jewelry and silver, and there was none tonight). I gather this auction was not heavily advertised.
Apparently George had picked up one of those boxcar-sized shipping containers from Hong Kong, probably unclaimed goods, probably got it very cheaply, and probably with no clue as to what might be inside. He didn't seem as anxious to get the best bids tonight - he was very relaxed.
From all that, I figured there would be some real steals, and there were.
The small 4-door 3-drawer cabinets, that will retail for $300-$500, were going for right around $100, and the tall chests and wardrobes, retail $500-$800, for about $200. They were ALL antique, but the more dirty and beat-up they looked, the more they fetched.
There were some very beautiful heavy but graceful carved chairs that would likely retail for near $1000 each, and which sold for about $250 a pair.
I wanted one or two of the small painted chests (there were about 8 or 9 of them), exactly the right size for a side table, and that's where it got really weird. The larger rectangular storage chests, lacquered, carved, and gold-leafed, were going for around $100 (a few got as far as $275). The small simply painted cube chests, nothing special, were ALSO going for $100-$150. The only thing I can figure is that most of the people there were, like me, buying for home, not for resale, and so they wanted the smaller chests because they're more versatile. I wasn't going to pay more than $60 for one of them, so I didn't get one.
On several occasions, George would bring out, say, a silvery metal table lamp with a glass shade, and auction it off (most of the lamps went for $20 to $30), and then after someone won it, he'd say "We have 19 more of these lamps ..." and he'd take the numbers of everyone who wanted another one at that high bid. THEN, when there were still 9 lamps left, he'd auction them off AGAIN! Naturally, the winning bid was lower this time, and more people bought lamps at the lower price --- and if there were some left, he did it again! Those first buyers should feel chagrined, but --- he did that several times with large lots of several items, and every time, people jumped in and bought some at the highest winning bid. Um, didn't they learn something the first time? He sold a pair of low stools at a high bid, and then revealed that he had lots more. I waited until the third pass, and bought two of them for less than half of the first winning bid.
I confess I did end up buying stuff I hadn't meant to. The stools (red and black lacquer) were too beautiful, sturdy, and cheap to pass up. I also bought five silk Chinese dresses for $5 total (they'll go into the crazy quilt stash, or maybe on eBay), a phoenix carved out of clear perfect quartz for something like $30 (a deal - take my word for it! I could sell it on eBay for three times the price), and a pair of 3'x7' red lacquered bookcases with rails around the shelves and drawers in the middle for $80. They'll replace those ugly metal utility shelves in the den, and the metal shelves will move to the basement, where they'll be appreciated.
There are some tables and chairs in a Chinese restaurant that Roman and I have frequented, made of the polished roots of a tree. Very beautiful, and we had wondered what they'd cost. There were two tables and some stools tonight similar to them, not as nice, but I don't think I could draw any conclusions from what they went for. It was almost shameful.
These auctions usually go from 5:30 to a little after 11 pm. Tonight it was finished at 9. George wasn't pulling the bids. Many items didn't sell at all. Very different.
There are usually a few hundred people at George's summer auctions. Tonight I counted 26 people on my side of the aisle, and there were no more than that on the other side. Fewer than a third of the seats were filled, when it's usually SRO. There were almost none of the usual dealers there, and I saw only one person who (whom?) I know is from NYC (and it was odd that she was there at all, because she usually comes for jewelry and silver, and there was none tonight). I gather this auction was not heavily advertised.
Apparently George had picked up one of those boxcar-sized shipping containers from Hong Kong, probably unclaimed goods, probably got it very cheaply, and probably with no clue as to what might be inside. He didn't seem as anxious to get the best bids tonight - he was very relaxed.
From all that, I figured there would be some real steals, and there were.
The small 4-door 3-drawer cabinets, that will retail for $300-$500, were going for right around $100, and the tall chests and wardrobes, retail $500-$800, for about $200. They were ALL antique, but the more dirty and beat-up they looked, the more they fetched.
There were some very beautiful heavy but graceful carved chairs that would likely retail for near $1000 each, and which sold for about $250 a pair.
I wanted one or two of the small painted chests (there were about 8 or 9 of them), exactly the right size for a side table, and that's where it got really weird. The larger rectangular storage chests, lacquered, carved, and gold-leafed, were going for around $100 (a few got as far as $275). The small simply painted cube chests, nothing special, were ALSO going for $100-$150. The only thing I can figure is that most of the people there were, like me, buying for home, not for resale, and so they wanted the smaller chests because they're more versatile. I wasn't going to pay more than $60 for one of them, so I didn't get one.
On several occasions, George would bring out, say, a silvery metal table lamp with a glass shade, and auction it off (most of the lamps went for $20 to $30), and then after someone won it, he'd say "We have 19 more of these lamps ..." and he'd take the numbers of everyone who wanted another one at that high bid. THEN, when there were still 9 lamps left, he'd auction them off AGAIN! Naturally, the winning bid was lower this time, and more people bought lamps at the lower price --- and if there were some left, he did it again! Those first buyers should feel chagrined, but --- he did that several times with large lots of several items, and every time, people jumped in and bought some at the highest winning bid. Um, didn't they learn something the first time? He sold a pair of low stools at a high bid, and then revealed that he had lots more. I waited until the third pass, and bought two of them for less than half of the first winning bid.
I confess I did end up buying stuff I hadn't meant to. The stools (red and black lacquer) were too beautiful, sturdy, and cheap to pass up. I also bought five silk Chinese dresses for $5 total (they'll go into the crazy quilt stash, or maybe on eBay), a phoenix carved out of clear perfect quartz for something like $30 (a deal - take my word for it! I could sell it on eBay for three times the price), and a pair of 3'x7' red lacquered bookcases with rails around the shelves and drawers in the middle for $80. They'll replace those ugly metal utility shelves in the den, and the metal shelves will move to the basement, where they'll be appreciated.
There are some tables and chairs in a Chinese restaurant that Roman and I have frequented, made of the polished roots of a tree. Very beautiful, and we had wondered what they'd cost. There were two tables and some stools tonight similar to them, not as nice, but I don't think I could draw any conclusions from what they went for. It was almost shameful.
These auctions usually go from 5:30 to a little after 11 pm. Tonight it was finished at 9. George wasn't pulling the bids. Many items didn't sell at all. Very different.
718 Lifted From a Saudi Blog
Borrowed from Alien Memoirs, the blog of a Saudi woman studying in the US. She is intelligent and has interesting things to say. I recommend a visit.
717 Searching for a French Poem
I am searching for the poem that begins "Quand on voit sur la branche au mois de mai la rose". I know the first verse, but the title and the rest is lost in the mists of time (I had to memorize it in seventh grade, 1957). Google gets me only that much, from someone's blog. If anyone knows the entire poem, or can find it online somewhere, please send me a pointer. It's been bugging me for years.
Note - the punctuation may be different. I'm not sure where commas might be inserted. I cut it into phrases to search, and still got only the one hit.
Thank you.
Note - the punctuation may be different. I'm not sure where commas might be inserted. I cut it into phrases to search, and still got only the one hit.
Thank you.
Friday, June 02, 2006
716 I Found a Convenient Treadmill
Friday, June 2, 2006
Stopped by Piper's office today to remind him that I need some money to pay the estimated taxes on the 15th. I had mentioned it to him Tuesday, but now I'm worried that he may not remember. Tuesday was the day he was pickled.
He had called Roman on Tuesday while I was there, to set up more tutoring, and left a message on Roman's machine. But yesterday, Piper was all excited because Roman had called him on Wednesday. Piper seemed to think it was an unsolicited/friendly call, so I'll bet he doesn't remember calling Roman. A reminder that I need a check is therefore in order.
He wasn't in. Aggghhh!
--------------------------------
I worked out on the machines today, then stopped by the auction house to preview tomorrow night's auction. George has "contents of a container from Hong Kong" up for auction, and I was curious. There are several chests similar to some I have, so I think I'll go to the auction if only to see what they sell for. He also has several small cubical top-opening painted chests, one of which would work very nicely as a lamp/clock table in my bedroom, so maybe I can get one of those cheap. I won't bid high on them, because I have some nice Chinese hardware stowed away, and the box itself would be easy to make (although camphor wood won't be likely if I make it) and fun to paint, so, we'll see.
I happened to notice that there's a new "women's fitness center" right next to the auction hall, so I stopped in and wow! they have treadmills! - one of them with a soft surface and the option of no incline. So I got a special deal on a three-month membership, and I did a mile right then and there.
The treadmill will be better for losing weight, so I'll try to do the machines at the first place two or three times a week now, at least until that membership expires, and the treadmill at the second place almost every day. Three months is perfect, because that's through the hot months, and by September I should have my own treadmill in the bedroom unburied and serviced. (Yeah, the clutter is THAT bad.) Also, this place is open from like 7 to 7, but they will give you a key, and you can come in any time, even the middle of the night. Great. I can throw a clot and have a stroke, and not be found until 7 am. But, I guess that's still better than if I use the treadmill at home. Then it could be weeks before anyone misses me. I wonder if their insurance company knows they let people in alone?
-------------------------------
I got a sales call from my telephone company yesterday. I have two lines - one dedicated to the computer. So the guy offered me a plan whereby I could have just one line and still make calls while I was on the computer, for "only" $75 a month. I pointed out that that's "only" $30 more than I'm paying now for the two lines combined, plus my ISP. So he came back with another offer which included unlimited long distance calls for the $75. (I guess you don't get to hear about that plan unless you turn the first offer down?) I pointed out that I don't use the house phones for long distance, I use the cell phone. Then he offered me all of the above, plus the phone company's ISP services (email, site hosting, buncha storage) for the same price. I told him I had seen his company's email service, and it was the clunkiest, most awkward, least intuitive design I had EVER seen (it's what Piper uses), and --- no thanks.
I think I made him cry.
Stopped by Piper's office today to remind him that I need some money to pay the estimated taxes on the 15th. I had mentioned it to him Tuesday, but now I'm worried that he may not remember. Tuesday was the day he was pickled.
He had called Roman on Tuesday while I was there, to set up more tutoring, and left a message on Roman's machine. But yesterday, Piper was all excited because Roman had called him on Wednesday. Piper seemed to think it was an unsolicited/friendly call, so I'll bet he doesn't remember calling Roman. A reminder that I need a check is therefore in order.
He wasn't in. Aggghhh!
--------------------------------
I worked out on the machines today, then stopped by the auction house to preview tomorrow night's auction. George has "contents of a container from Hong Kong" up for auction, and I was curious. There are several chests similar to some I have, so I think I'll go to the auction if only to see what they sell for. He also has several small cubical top-opening painted chests, one of which would work very nicely as a lamp/clock table in my bedroom, so maybe I can get one of those cheap. I won't bid high on them, because I have some nice Chinese hardware stowed away, and the box itself would be easy to make (although camphor wood won't be likely if I make it) and fun to paint, so, we'll see.
I happened to notice that there's a new "women's fitness center" right next to the auction hall, so I stopped in and wow! they have treadmills! - one of them with a soft surface and the option of no incline. So I got a special deal on a three-month membership, and I did a mile right then and there.
The treadmill will be better for losing weight, so I'll try to do the machines at the first place two or three times a week now, at least until that membership expires, and the treadmill at the second place almost every day. Three months is perfect, because that's through the hot months, and by September I should have my own treadmill in the bedroom unburied and serviced. (Yeah, the clutter is THAT bad.) Also, this place is open from like 7 to 7, but they will give you a key, and you can come in any time, even the middle of the night. Great. I can throw a clot and have a stroke, and not be found until 7 am. But, I guess that's still better than if I use the treadmill at home. Then it could be weeks before anyone misses me. I wonder if their insurance company knows they let people in alone?
-------------------------------
I got a sales call from my telephone company yesterday. I have two lines - one dedicated to the computer. So the guy offered me a plan whereby I could have just one line and still make calls while I was on the computer, for "only" $75 a month. I pointed out that that's "only" $30 more than I'm paying now for the two lines combined, plus my ISP. So he came back with another offer which included unlimited long distance calls for the $75. (I guess you don't get to hear about that plan unless you turn the first offer down?) I pointed out that I don't use the house phones for long distance, I use the cell phone. Then he offered me all of the above, plus the phone company's ISP services (email, site hosting, buncha storage) for the same price. I told him I had seen his company's email service, and it was the clunkiest, most awkward, least intuitive design I had EVER seen (it's what Piper uses), and --- no thanks.
I think I made him cry.
715 This is a Blah Title, Ok? Nothing Else Changed.
Thursday, June 1, 2006.
Busy today. Took stuff to the Salvation Army, bought metal posts to mark the lot line, played bar Trivia with GG, Tom, and Mark. It poured rain today, thunder, lightning, wind, off and on. Luckily, the nasty stuff was when I was in the van or in a building.
As I was driving through Rhinebeck at about 11 pm, there was a sudden burst of very bright white and red light and a shower of sparks from the top of a pole in front of the hospital. All the streetlights went out and then some came back on. Oddly, there was no sound with the flash. I was afraid there might be a line down, so I drove very slowly past the spot, but ... nothing.
An altogether ho hum day. Tomorrow looks to be the same.
Busy today. Took stuff to the Salvation Army, bought metal posts to mark the lot line, played bar Trivia with GG, Tom, and Mark. It poured rain today, thunder, lightning, wind, off and on. Luckily, the nasty stuff was when I was in the van or in a building.
As I was driving through Rhinebeck at about 11 pm, there was a sudden burst of very bright white and red light and a shower of sparks from the top of a pole in front of the hospital. All the streetlights went out and then some came back on. Oddly, there was no sound with the flash. I was afraid there might be a line down, so I drove very slowly past the spot, but ... nothing.
An altogether ho hum day. Tomorrow looks to be the same.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
714 Is This Why People Don't Get Married?
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Back in September of 2004, I wrote an entry complaining about people who claimed they "Can't Afford to Get Married", those couples who have been together six years and have two or three kids and still refer to themselves as "engaged".
The past month or so, several bloggers who will be brides or bridesmails in the next month or so have been writing about their trials and tribulations. My attitude is, as it has always been, "Elope! Have done with it!"
Well, Daughter and Hercules have been wrestling with the issue. Left to themselves, if there were no other people to consider, they'd just elope for real. Even with other people to consider, I suspect Daughter would be just as happy to get married at the courthouse on a lunch hour. They're both over 30, they should be able to do what they want.
But, Hercules' family is more, um, sensitive, I guess. Daughter has been getting all kinds of pressure from all sides to "do this", "do that", "invite xxx", "The date is inconvenient for me, could you please change your date?" (Yes, that's for real.) Things are complicated by the fact that some family members cannot be in the same room with other family members, so the ceremony and the reception will be at separate dates, with separate attendees.
I have tried to support Daughter in everything she wants to do, think, feel, or say, without getting in her way or trying to tell her what she "should" do. The farthest I will go on advice is to offer ways she might be able to express her own needs without offending others, but we all know I'm not very good at that anyway.
In today's telephone call, I offered two suggestions: 1.) don't get married, or 2.) sneak off to a judge with two witnesses who are sworn to secrecy, and just don't tell anyone you got married. Nobody's feelings will get hurt, they'll all die off eventually anyway, and then you can come clean.
Oh, this will please some of you - she has bought her dress. For less than $35. Good girl!!
Back in September of 2004, I wrote an entry complaining about people who claimed they "Can't Afford to Get Married", those couples who have been together six years and have two or three kids and still refer to themselves as "engaged".
The past month or so, several bloggers who will be brides or bridesmails in the next month or so have been writing about their trials and tribulations. My attitude is, as it has always been, "Elope! Have done with it!"
Well, Daughter and Hercules have been wrestling with the issue. Left to themselves, if there were no other people to consider, they'd just elope for real. Even with other people to consider, I suspect Daughter would be just as happy to get married at the courthouse on a lunch hour. They're both over 30, they should be able to do what they want.
But, Hercules' family is more, um, sensitive, I guess. Daughter has been getting all kinds of pressure from all sides to "do this", "do that", "invite xxx", "The date is inconvenient for me, could you please change your date?" (Yes, that's for real.) Things are complicated by the fact that some family members cannot be in the same room with other family members, so the ceremony and the reception will be at separate dates, with separate attendees.
I have tried to support Daughter in everything she wants to do, think, feel, or say, without getting in her way or trying to tell her what she "should" do. The farthest I will go on advice is to offer ways she might be able to express her own needs without offending others, but we all know I'm not very good at that anyway.
In today's telephone call, I offered two suggestions: 1.) don't get married, or 2.) sneak off to a judge with two witnesses who are sworn to secrecy, and just don't tell anyone you got married. Nobody's feelings will get hurt, they'll all die off eventually anyway, and then you can come clean.
Oh, this will please some of you - she has bought her dress. For less than $35. Good girl!!
713 A Fun Test
| Freakin’ Genius! You scored 100% Awesomeness! |
| You are wonderful! If awesomeness was a crime, you’d be in jail for life. You win 1,000,000 points and the respect and admiration of millions of fans. Here is a gold star for you: |
 |
Link: The Really QUICK Reassuringly EASY Test written by andyash on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
712 Pickled Piper
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
At about 3:30 today, I intended to go to the drug store, the grocery store, get in a walk around the village, do the exercise machines (I want to lose those last 20 lb. before August, and I seem to have been at a plateau for the past month), and maybe stop in at Piper's office.
As I was driving through the village, I saw Piper heading for the post office and flagged him down, so we went directly back to his office. I had sent him some of the falls photos in an email, but I knew he wouldn't know how and would need help to get to them.
Piper was in very rare form. Some friends of his from Wall Street were moored at the marina in Kingston, and he had been out fishing with them all day. He was feeling good. Very good. Multiple beers in the sun and "I caught a fish!" worth of good. He gets very hyper when he's feeling good. (I'm not sure how big this boat is, but there are apparently several bedrooms.) We downloaded the falls photos, but I'm sure he won't remember tomorrow. He intended to go out again with the friends this evening. I kept telling him he should go home and take a nap first.
Then he invited me to go out with them. I was a bit leary about going out with a bunch of businessmen on the town, but then after I thought about it, and after he assured me I wouldn't cramp anyone's style, I decided it might be a good idea. Piper was going to need a designated driver. I told him to call me when he had details - and "for pity's sake, go home and take a nap!"
I ran my errands, managed a short walk, stopped to talk to the Hunk, showed him the cleared woods and discussed what needs to be done, got in about 6:30 - and found a phone message from Piper. He had crashed, I guess. Sounded very down, very tired. Was going to stay in. Would call me tomorrow. Maybe go out tomorrow evening. (I wonder how long his friends plan to stay?)
I'm not surprised. He can get so excited that he tires himself out.
------------------------------------
The background noise this evening is Gilmore Girls. Critics love it, and I suppose it might be pretty good, but the way the females on that show talk, the very fast very clipped banter, annoys me. It makes my back tighten.
At about 3:30 today, I intended to go to the drug store, the grocery store, get in a walk around the village, do the exercise machines (I want to lose those last 20 lb. before August, and I seem to have been at a plateau for the past month), and maybe stop in at Piper's office.
As I was driving through the village, I saw Piper heading for the post office and flagged him down, so we went directly back to his office. I had sent him some of the falls photos in an email, but I knew he wouldn't know how and would need help to get to them.
Piper was in very rare form. Some friends of his from Wall Street were moored at the marina in Kingston, and he had been out fishing with them all day. He was feeling good. Very good. Multiple beers in the sun and "I caught a fish!" worth of good. He gets very hyper when he's feeling good. (I'm not sure how big this boat is, but there are apparently several bedrooms.) We downloaded the falls photos, but I'm sure he won't remember tomorrow. He intended to go out again with the friends this evening. I kept telling him he should go home and take a nap first.
Then he invited me to go out with them. I was a bit leary about going out with a bunch of businessmen on the town, but then after I thought about it, and after he assured me I wouldn't cramp anyone's style, I decided it might be a good idea. Piper was going to need a designated driver. I told him to call me when he had details - and "for pity's sake, go home and take a nap!"
I ran my errands, managed a short walk, stopped to talk to the Hunk, showed him the cleared woods and discussed what needs to be done, got in about 6:30 - and found a phone message from Piper. He had crashed, I guess. Sounded very down, very tired. Was going to stay in. Would call me tomorrow. Maybe go out tomorrow evening. (I wonder how long his friends plan to stay?)
I'm not surprised. He can get so excited that he tires himself out.
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The background noise this evening is Gilmore Girls. Critics love it, and I suppose it might be pretty good, but the way the females on that show talk, the very fast very clipped banter, annoys me. It makes my back tighten.
Monday, May 29, 2006
711 I'm Here
I spent most of this morning on the internet, and most of the afternoon trying on and sorting clothes. I just came in from looking at the woods with the young guy. He's gone way beyond what he had to do - he had taken out all the rotting logs from long-fallen trees that I told him he didn't have to mess with, and now he's raking up debris.
Actually, I'm a little worried about all those logs gone. I have nightmares of thousands of starving termites and homeless carpenter ants looking up the hill eyeing that big pile of timber (the big rectangular pile with the new roof). Sorta like that movie from the sixties, where an army of migrating ants that eat everything in their path attacks an African compound. On the other hand, there are still fallen logs on the neighbor's land, so maybe they'll go there.
I'm left with a lot fewer trees than I thought I had. Most of what had been in there was brush of one type or another, and almost all of the smaller trees were sumacs, all of which he took out. There are very large areas completely open, between large trees. (Some of the sumacs had a trunk diameter of 12 inches - they were huge. They filled in the spaces.)
It being Memorial Day, I've been remembering Jim Hassett, and wishing I had been a better friend.
Actually, I'm a little worried about all those logs gone. I have nightmares of thousands of starving termites and homeless carpenter ants looking up the hill eyeing that big pile of timber (the big rectangular pile with the new roof). Sorta like that movie from the sixties, where an army of migrating ants that eat everything in their path attacks an African compound. On the other hand, there are still fallen logs on the neighbor's land, so maybe they'll go there.
I'm left with a lot fewer trees than I thought I had. Most of what had been in there was brush of one type or another, and almost all of the smaller trees were sumacs, all of which he took out. There are very large areas completely open, between large trees. (Some of the sumacs had a trunk diameter of 12 inches - they were huge. They filled in the spaces.)
It being Memorial Day, I've been remembering Jim Hassett, and wishing I had been a better friend.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
710 The Hunk Was Worried!
The Hairless Hunk's wife walks a lot on our road, and she came by as I was taking the garbage can down this evening. I said "I guess you've noticed I'm having a lot of work done in the woods." She said yes, that the Hunk was worried, that he had asked her if maybe I had fired him. (Ordinarily I would have given him first bid on the project.) I explained that this was probably the best deal I'd made in years, that the kid was doing it "free", in exchange for an easement for his electric line along my property line.
Maybe I should have warned the Hunk, so he wouldn't have worried.
I told her that I needed to talk with the Hunk about final cleanup, filling, and grading to make it easy to maintain, and possibly planting some flowering trees (ooo! ooo! dogwoods! yes!) and wildflowers. I'll need advice as to how to keep it woodsy and still discourage the growth of those nasty prickery things and poison ivy. I'd like most of it to still be deer and bunny friendly, but also people friendly.
They cleared the wedge at the bottom of the driveway and around the circle at the end of the road today, and for the first time ever I could see the house from the road, through the trees. I am somehow more comfortable knowing that the house can be seen from the road.
The black locust have blossomed this year, for the first time in a few years. They smell wonderful, very sweet. They've had some rough years due to some disease that's killing many of them. Maybe with my woods opened up a bit, it might help mine to survive. I hope.
Maybe I should have warned the Hunk, so he wouldn't have worried.
I told her that I needed to talk with the Hunk about final cleanup, filling, and grading to make it easy to maintain, and possibly planting some flowering trees (ooo! ooo! dogwoods! yes!) and wildflowers. I'll need advice as to how to keep it woodsy and still discourage the growth of those nasty prickery things and poison ivy. I'd like most of it to still be deer and bunny friendly, but also people friendly.
They cleared the wedge at the bottom of the driveway and around the circle at the end of the road today, and for the first time ever I could see the house from the road, through the trees. I am somehow more comfortable knowing that the house can be seen from the road.
The black locust have blossomed this year, for the first time in a few years. They smell wonderful, very sweet. They've had some rough years due to some disease that's killing many of them. Maybe with my woods opened up a bit, it might help mine to survive. I hope.
709 Lost
I forget what evening it was, but it was recently, "Lost" was on the TV, not because I was watching it, I haven't watched "Lost" this season at all, I got frustrated because it didn't seem to be going anywhere, it was just on for the background noise, anyway, it was on and I wasn't paying much attention.
But still, I noticed a few things. Things that might be another reason I quit watching it.
Somebody's not watching to ensure that things make sense. I can suspend belief, but not logic.
----------------------------------
There used to be a job on movie and TV sets, called "continuity". That was a person in charge of ensuring that things were the same over cuts and reshoots. Somewhere, somehow, somebody must have decided continuity wasn't important. You don't see it much in the end credits any more.
Lack of continuity is another thing that drives me crazy. I get hung up on it.
That's when, for example, you have a man and a woman in conversation, and the camera cuts back and forth between them, and in half the shots, the woman has a scarf over her shoulder, and in half the shots the scarf isn't there. My mind gets hooked on imagining her whipping the scarf on and off every five seconds, and wondering why she's doing that, and I miss the whole conversation.
Lack of continuity drives me bonkers.
But still, I noticed a few things. Things that might be another reason I quit watching it.
- One guy in the underground chamber gets suspicious because he notices a tear in the leg of the protective suit worn by the other guy, who had just come in from outside, where the air is supposedly poisonous. The other guy gets ready to go outside again. Protective hooded suit (with tear in the leg), goggles, gas mask, etc. The suspicious guy decides to follow him. Critical plot point. Now, I noticed that the protective suit and mask combination does not cover the chin and neck! They're bare. So how could a tear in the leg of the suit be significant? Did I miss something?
- They missed putting the numbers in the computer, and some kind of very strong magnetic field is generated. Very heavy metal things are flying across the room and getting stuck to a wall. They do some quick number-inputting and the computer is fine again and the magnetic field drops. Um, wouldn't a magnetic field that strong kinda mess up the computer and peripherals?
- My cryptic note here says "rollover". If I can remember what that means, I'll update. I seem to think it has something to do with a center of weight being too low for a vehicle rollover they showed. Does anyone have any idea what I may have noticed?
Somebody's not watching to ensure that things make sense. I can suspend belief, but not logic.
----------------------------------
There used to be a job on movie and TV sets, called "continuity". That was a person in charge of ensuring that things were the same over cuts and reshoots. Somewhere, somehow, somebody must have decided continuity wasn't important. You don't see it much in the end credits any more.
Lack of continuity is another thing that drives me crazy. I get hung up on it.
That's when, for example, you have a man and a woman in conversation, and the camera cuts back and forth between them, and in half the shots, the woman has a scarf over her shoulder, and in half the shots the scarf isn't there. My mind gets hooked on imagining her whipping the scarf on and off every five seconds, and wondering why she's doing that, and I miss the whole conversation.
Lack of continuity drives me bonkers.
708 Sunday
Very warm today. I went to the Antiques Fair this afternoon. There were literally hundreds of antiques dealers there, all set up in little booths inside long fairgrounds buildings. There were fans, but it was still pretty hot inside.
I was mildly hoping that a dealer from Mass. that I've been online flirting with would be there, but, naturally, he wasn't.
I didn't go to buy, Daughter. I've got everything I could want or need (except for a center table for the living room). Mainly I just like to look at stuff, and perhaps get an idea of what some of my things might be worth.
I did find a rosewood table that would be perfect for the living room, but it was $2700.00. I didn't buy it.
I also looked at a necklace, made of random-shaped pieces of ancient roman glass. Blue, purple, green, silvery, golden iridescence. Most beautiful thing I've seen in months. $2500.00. I didn't buy it.
When I handed it back to the woman, I said "I love it, but not two refrigerators worth."
I didn't buy anything but lunch.
The electricity at the fairgrounds died at about 3 pm, while I was outside eating some ice cream. I heard that it was off for all the traffic lights on Route 9, too. It got very dark and hot in the buildings (I can't believe the fairgrounds doesn't have generators), so I came home.
Talking to the guys clearing my woods and the next-door neighbor this morning. She wandered over to find out what was going on - she was afraid we were planning to build a house between mine and hers. Neighbor says that our phones weren't working for two days, Friday and Saturday. That made me feel a tiny bit better, because that's one of the depressing things - being out all afternoon and coming home to a big fat 0 on the message machine. Then I realized that I was dialed in to the internet the whole time, even while I was out (a separate line from the house phone), and it never dropped, so I don't know what she's talking about.
I've been going through closets trying on clothes, which is kind of fun. I'm sorting into: stuff to give away, stuff to sell, stuff to alter, stuff that fits now but will be stored for the summer, stuff that fits and I can wear now, and stuff that's still just a wee bit small but will fit soon. Oh, and stuff that's just plain ugly. There's very little that will be thrown out. It's all in pretty good condition. I guess that's an advantage to having lots of clothes. Nothing gets worn out.
I have to remember to save some yucky stuff for grunge work. Yucky stuff that still looks decent on....
I was mildly hoping that a dealer from Mass. that I've been online flirting with would be there, but, naturally, he wasn't.
I didn't go to buy, Daughter. I've got everything I could want or need (except for a center table for the living room). Mainly I just like to look at stuff, and perhaps get an idea of what some of my things might be worth.
I did find a rosewood table that would be perfect for the living room, but it was $2700.00. I didn't buy it.
I also looked at a necklace, made of random-shaped pieces of ancient roman glass. Blue, purple, green, silvery, golden iridescence. Most beautiful thing I've seen in months. $2500.00. I didn't buy it.
When I handed it back to the woman, I said "I love it, but not two refrigerators worth."
I didn't buy anything but lunch.
The electricity at the fairgrounds died at about 3 pm, while I was outside eating some ice cream. I heard that it was off for all the traffic lights on Route 9, too. It got very dark and hot in the buildings (I can't believe the fairgrounds doesn't have generators), so I came home.
Talking to the guys clearing my woods and the next-door neighbor this morning. She wandered over to find out what was going on - she was afraid we were planning to build a house between mine and hers. Neighbor says that our phones weren't working for two days, Friday and Saturday. That made me feel a tiny bit better, because that's one of the depressing things - being out all afternoon and coming home to a big fat 0 on the message machine. Then I realized that I was dialed in to the internet the whole time, even while I was out (a separate line from the house phone), and it never dropped, so I don't know what she's talking about.
I've been going through closets trying on clothes, which is kind of fun. I'm sorting into: stuff to give away, stuff to sell, stuff to alter, stuff that fits now but will be stored for the summer, stuff that fits and I can wear now, and stuff that's still just a wee bit small but will fit soon. Oh, and stuff that's just plain ugly. There's very little that will be thrown out. It's all in pretty good condition. I guess that's an advantage to having lots of clothes. Nothing gets worn out.
I have to remember to save some yucky stuff for grunge work. Yucky stuff that still looks decent on....
707 The Merry Minuet
Sunday, May 28, 2006
"The Merry Minuet" is over 50 years old. Obie first introduced me to the Kingston Trio in 1960, and their "From the Hungry I" album was his favorite.
A few weeks ago, Roman and I were in the car, and I stuck my CD in the player. We both sang along to the songs, and after "The Merry Minuet", I remarked that it's all still true! (Except maybe the starving in Spain part....)
It's amazing how things don't change.
[http://users2.ev1.net/~smyth/linernotes/thesongs/MerryMinuet.htm] "The Merry Minuet" is also known as "Merry Little Minuet," an early satirical song of Broadway lyricist Sheldon Harnick, whose shows with composer Jerry Bock include Fiorello!, She Loves Me and Fiddler on the Roof. This topical rundown of world trouble spots was introduced by Orson Bean in the 1953 revue John Murray Anderson 's Almanac.
"The Merry Minuet" is over 50 years old. Obie first introduced me to the Kingston Trio in 1960, and their "From the Hungry I" album was his favorite.
A few weeks ago, Roman and I were in the car, and I stuck my CD in the player. We both sang along to the songs, and after "The Merry Minuet", I remarked that it's all still true! (Except maybe the starving in Spain part....)
It's amazing how things don't change.
Merry Minuet
They’re rioting in Africa (whistling)
They’re starving in Spain (whistling)
There’s hurricanes in Flo-ri-da (whistling)
And Texas needs rain.
The whole world is festering with unhappy souls
The French hate the Germans, the Germans hate the Poles
Italians hate Yugoslavs, South Africans hate the Dutch
AND I DON’T LIKE ANYBODY VERY MUCH!!
But we can be tranquil and thankful and proud
For man’s been endowed with a mushroom-shaped cloud
And we know for certain that some lovely day
Someone will set the spark off
AND WE WILL ALL BE BLOWN AWAY!!
They’re rioting in Africa (whistling)
There’s strife in Iran
What nature doesn’t do to us
Will be done by our fellow "man"
They’re rioting in Africa (whistling)
They’re starving in Spain (whistling)
There’s hurricanes in Flo-ri-da (whistling)
And Texas needs rain.
The whole world is festering with unhappy souls
The French hate the Germans, the Germans hate the Poles
Italians hate Yugoslavs, South Africans hate the Dutch
AND I DON’T LIKE ANYBODY VERY MUCH!!
But we can be tranquil and thankful and proud
For man’s been endowed with a mushroom-shaped cloud
And we know for certain that some lovely day
Someone will set the spark off
AND WE WILL ALL BE BLOWN AWAY!!
They’re rioting in Africa (whistling)
There’s strife in Iran
What nature doesn’t do to us
Will be done by our fellow "man"
[http://users2.ev1.net/~smyth/linernotes/thesongs/MerryMinuet.htm] "The Merry Minuet" is also known as "Merry Little Minuet," an early satirical song of Broadway lyricist Sheldon Harnick, whose shows with composer Jerry Bock include Fiorello!, She Loves Me and Fiddler on the Roof. This topical rundown of world trouble spots was introduced by Orson Bean in the 1953 revue John Murray Anderson 's Almanac.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
706 Happy Dance
I figure after the previous post I should tell y'all about some good stuff, too.
The roofers of last week installed a rooftop thermostat-controlled fan, and it's great! It got up to at least 84 outside today, which would ordinarily push the house into the 90s, and tax my poor groundwater heat pump air conditioning (read high electric bill) to the max to pull it down. But it got to only 81 inside, for a short period, without the air conditioning on or any windows open. Very nice.
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You may remember that last fall I gave the young man building a house below mine permission to run his electric line through my property, in exchange for his clearing my strip of woods of all undergrowth, downed trees, and all trees smaller than my thigh. (It's mostly wild roses and raspberries in there, which smell nice when they bloom, but make it impossible to walk in the woods, and try to take over the lawn and driveway.)
He started working on that on Friday, and he's half done already. He's even going further than we had agreed, in that he's also leveling the ground. It looks great! I had imagined that it would take him weeks, but he's got some major equipment out there, a narrow beast with tires up to my chin with a bucket on the front and a brush hog on the back. He's not leaving stumps, either. I don't know exactly how he's doing it, but even without grass, it already looks like lawn in there. The kid's a worker!
(My only concern is that the monster he's using is bumping trees, and tearing holes in the bark. I hope it doesn't kill them. I'll have to check, and any that are torn more than a total of 1/4 of the circumference will have to come out now.)
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You may have heard of Zillow.com. It's supposed to give you all kinds of details about houses you're considering buying, in particular the market value. I looked up my house a week ago, and they didn't have any data on this area yet. A few days ago, Hercules suggested that I look again. They have my house now. Zillow gave me one more bedroom, one less bathroom, an additional few hundred square feet, and claimed my tax assessment was about half the actual. It didn't even sound like my house. The market value they came up with wouldn't buy you a hovel around here. About the only thing they had right was the acreage. They have a button to "tell us if we got any details wrong", so I clicked it and sent them a note. I got back an immediate screen that said that they are unable to act on or respond to any comments, but thanked me for letting them know what I thought. Sheesh! Why bother offering the opportunity to correct the entry if they're not interested in correcting the entry?
Where's the happy dance here? I wonder if I can use this info to fight the tax assessment. (Giggle) "It's on the internet. It's Zillow. It's gotta be right, right?"
The roofers of last week installed a rooftop thermostat-controlled fan, and it's great! It got up to at least 84 outside today, which would ordinarily push the house into the 90s, and tax my poor groundwater heat pump air conditioning (read high electric bill) to the max to pull it down. But it got to only 81 inside, for a short period, without the air conditioning on or any windows open. Very nice.
-------------------------------------
You may remember that last fall I gave the young man building a house below mine permission to run his electric line through my property, in exchange for his clearing my strip of woods of all undergrowth, downed trees, and all trees smaller than my thigh. (It's mostly wild roses and raspberries in there, which smell nice when they bloom, but make it impossible to walk in the woods, and try to take over the lawn and driveway.)
He started working on that on Friday, and he's half done already. He's even going further than we had agreed, in that he's also leveling the ground. It looks great! I had imagined that it would take him weeks, but he's got some major equipment out there, a narrow beast with tires up to my chin with a bucket on the front and a brush hog on the back. He's not leaving stumps, either. I don't know exactly how he's doing it, but even without grass, it already looks like lawn in there. The kid's a worker!
(My only concern is that the monster he's using is bumping trees, and tearing holes in the bark. I hope it doesn't kill them. I'll have to check, and any that are torn more than a total of 1/4 of the circumference will have to come out now.)
---------------------------------------
You may have heard of Zillow.com. It's supposed to give you all kinds of details about houses you're considering buying, in particular the market value. I looked up my house a week ago, and they didn't have any data on this area yet. A few days ago, Hercules suggested that I look again. They have my house now. Zillow gave me one more bedroom, one less bathroom, an additional few hundred square feet, and claimed my tax assessment was about half the actual. It didn't even sound like my house. The market value they came up with wouldn't buy you a hovel around here. About the only thing they had right was the acreage. They have a button to "tell us if we got any details wrong", so I clicked it and sent them a note. I got back an immediate screen that said that they are unable to act on or respond to any comments, but thanked me for letting them know what I thought. Sheesh! Why bother offering the opportunity to correct the entry if they're not interested in correcting the entry?
Where's the happy dance here? I wonder if I can use this info to fight the tax assessment. (Giggle) "It's on the internet. It's Zillow. It's gotta be right, right?"
705 Pity Party
The Maritime Museum needed someone to cover the gift shop yesterday (Friday) from 1 to 5 pm, and the volunteer coordinator begged me, so I went in. I thought we'd have a lot of visitors, people getting a jump on the weekend - but we didn't. Only one couple came in, and they wanted only information ("How do we get out to the lighthouse?")
The tedium was relieved by the arrival of the schooner Mystic Whaler. Captain John came in to ask where he could find a grocery store. Ho hum.
I did make one sale - I bought a book.
By the time I left I was very depressed. One of my reasons for volunteering was to meet people (and maybe even some 60-ish single men). But I seem to be spending all my time at the museum alone. Driving home, I felt like I wanted to cry - you know, that lump in the throat thing - but I couldn't seem to muster any tears, so I didn't. I'm so alone. Here it is a holiday weekend, and I have no one to share it with. I have friends, but they're all either old and tired (in mind if not body), married, or in relationships, leaving no room for me.
I intended today to go to the antiques fair in Rhinebeck and then to the 4:15 showing of "Water" at the Upstate Cinema, but when I realized that I'd left myself only 2 hours for the fair, I skipped it and just went to the movie. Alone.
That was also a depressing experience when I realized two things. There wasn't a single person in the audience younger than me, and I was the only person there alone.
Then I went out for dinner at the new restaurant in the village. Alone. I read my Smithsonian at the table.
I feel like I want to cry again, but there are no tears.
I'll go to the antiques fair tomorrow. Alone.
The tedium was relieved by the arrival of the schooner Mystic Whaler. Captain John came in to ask where he could find a grocery store. Ho hum.
I did make one sale - I bought a book.
By the time I left I was very depressed. One of my reasons for volunteering was to meet people (and maybe even some 60-ish single men). But I seem to be spending all my time at the museum alone. Driving home, I felt like I wanted to cry - you know, that lump in the throat thing - but I couldn't seem to muster any tears, so I didn't. I'm so alone. Here it is a holiday weekend, and I have no one to share it with. I have friends, but they're all either old and tired (in mind if not body), married, or in relationships, leaving no room for me.
I intended today to go to the antiques fair in Rhinebeck and then to the 4:15 showing of "Water" at the Upstate Cinema, but when I realized that I'd left myself only 2 hours for the fair, I skipped it and just went to the movie. Alone.
That was also a depressing experience when I realized two things. There wasn't a single person in the audience younger than me, and I was the only person there alone.
Then I went out for dinner at the new restaurant in the village. Alone. I read my Smithsonian at the table.
I feel like I want to cry again, but there are no tears.
I'll go to the antiques fair tomorrow. Alone.
Friday, May 26, 2006
704 - More Falls Photos (4)
More of Roman's photos.
The glen is often called Waterfall Heaven. It smells good. It's clean. I've never seen a tick or a mosquito there. Deer, bears, bobcats, lynxes, rattlesnakes, copperheads, yes. Ticks and mosquitoes, no. Kitchen Creek is fed from Lake Jean, and Lake Jean is fed from springs. The water is clear and cold.
This Jack-in-the-Pulpit was at the edge of the path. In my experience, they are very rare! This guy was tiny - the entire pulpit was no more than 2 or 2.5 inches tall I think Roman did an excellent job photographing it.
One of these days, I'll manage to visit when the mountain laurel is in bloom.
703 - More Falls Photos (3)
More of Roman's photos.
A cliff wall alongside the trail. By summer, this will be full of ferns. That's water dribbling down. It's not from the recent rains - there's always water coming through the cliff faces along the path.
A cliff wall alongside the trail. By summer, this will be full of ferns. That's water dribbling down. It's not from the recent rains - there's always water coming through the cliff faces along the path.
A cascade.
And another. The little beige blob just above the water, on the left, is a hiker.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
702 -More Falls Photos (2)
More of Roman's photos.
Ganoga, I think.
Another....
Some little old lady at the above falls. She'd been rained on. Tsk. Wet mouse.
701 - More Falls Photos (1)
This is a selection of Roman's photos from our trip to Ricketts Glen.
A huge rock at the top of the trail. It fascinated him.
Kitchen Creek.
Falls.
The same falls as above, different view.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
700 Lotsa Bits
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
If you have ever driven the Taconic Parkway (or if you have never driven it), please please go read this short poem from Michael, of "One Foot in Front of the Other".
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I learned something today from The Sandmonkey that I didn't know before. Under Egyptian laws based on Sharia (Islamic law) if a baby is born out of wedlock, and the father has refused to acknowledge the child, the child "gets no birth certificate, no passport, no nothing, and you couldn't force the father to take a paternity test either". This means the child will be treated as an outcast and a non-citizen in its own country, and can't leave either I suppose, having no identity as far as the government is concerned. I would suppose that it limits educational and employment opportunities, too, for no fault of the child. To spare their children this hell, many single pregnant Egyptian women get abortions.
But a young woman, Hind Al Hinnawy (do read the article, and do follow the link about Urfi marriages), took the man to court in a paternity suit, and against all odds, has won. The child will have the father's name. Hind has set a precedent, which The Sandmonkey finds significant.
Wow. How bad must it be if this is exciting? I, as a '70s liberationist, find it still horribly sexist. The child still doesn't exist unless a man says it does, or, as in this case, is forced by the court to admit it does. Oh, well, baby steps, I guess.
----------------------------------
And finally,
If you have ever driven the Taconic Parkway (or if you have never driven it), please please go read this short poem from Michael, of "One Foot in Front of the Other".
-------------------------------------------
I learned something today from The Sandmonkey that I didn't know before. Under Egyptian laws based on Sharia (Islamic law) if a baby is born out of wedlock, and the father has refused to acknowledge the child, the child "gets no birth certificate, no passport, no nothing, and you couldn't force the father to take a paternity test either". This means the child will be treated as an outcast and a non-citizen in its own country, and can't leave either I suppose, having no identity as far as the government is concerned. I would suppose that it limits educational and employment opportunities, too, for no fault of the child. To spare their children this hell, many single pregnant Egyptian women get abortions.
But a young woman, Hind Al Hinnawy (do read the article, and do follow the link about Urfi marriages), took the man to court in a paternity suit, and against all odds, has won. The child will have the father's name. Hind has set a precedent, which The Sandmonkey finds significant.
Wow. How bad must it be if this is exciting? I, as a '70s liberationist, find it still horribly sexist. The child still doesn't exist unless a man says it does, or, as in this case, is forced by the court to admit it does. Oh, well, baby steps, I guess.
----------------------------------
And finally,
| You Are Chinese Food |
 Exotic yet ordinary. People think they've had enough of you, but they're back for more in an hour. |
699 Too Much Museum (Exactly what I was afraid of!)
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Roman tried to send me his pix from the falls trip, but the zip file was too large for email attachment, so he'll try again later, when he can break it up. I'm anxious.
-----------------------------------
I went to the Maritime Museum yesterday to set up the information notebooks they'd asked me to do. The volunteers in the museum, on the phones, and in the gift shop are always getting questions from tourists (when, where, how much, what's there, etc.) about the other museums and tours around town, so they wanted a page on each. (The official visitor's center is about two blocks up the street, and open every day, so I don't see why they couldn't just send people there, but I am in "shut-up-and-do-as-you're-told" mode these days, so....)
It wasn't as easy as it sounds. The available brochures and web sites have conflicting information. Many of the places are open only on weekends, and there's no cell phone service on the mountain, so I wasn't able to call any of them until just before they closed (5 pm) last Sunday, when we got closer to civilization on the way home. (BTW, Daughter, there's a brand new cell tower directly across the road from the little hotel. Not functional yet, but soon. Roman's daughter's birthday was last weekend, and he wanted to call her and was very frustrated by the sight "Is that what I think it is?!" of a non-functioning tower. So near and yet so far.)
Then when I tried to type up what I had yesterday, the editor on the museum computer kept program-checking, and every time it did, it locked the file I had been working on. [Insert choice words here.] I wanted to have it done by Friday, to be ready for the influx of tourists Memorial Day weekend. When I got home yesterday, I found a newspaper insert devoted to the river. All the information I was missing! Current information! Serendipity!
So I went in today to finish. The woman who was supposed to come in to work the shop never showed, so again I found myself minding the register, but we weren't busy, so I was still able to sneak upstairs and finish the notebooks. They look good. I'm proud of them.
In an earlier entry I said something about this being a rinkydink operation (in reference to charging sales tax). I needed a key today. I asked where it was kept. They told me. Incredible. I can't tell you what or where, but it's tantamount to keeping the front door key under the doormat, WITH a list of all the house valuables attached.
I need to draw the maps for the notebooks by Friday, and I have committed to tend the shop Friday afternoon. This is more time than I had planned to contribute - I still have this house to clear out - but I'll back off a bit after Friday. I'll ride on the goodwill from those wonderful notebooks for a while.
Roman tried to send me his pix from the falls trip, but the zip file was too large for email attachment, so he'll try again later, when he can break it up. I'm anxious.
-----------------------------------
I went to the Maritime Museum yesterday to set up the information notebooks they'd asked me to do. The volunteers in the museum, on the phones, and in the gift shop are always getting questions from tourists (when, where, how much, what's there, etc.) about the other museums and tours around town, so they wanted a page on each. (The official visitor's center is about two blocks up the street, and open every day, so I don't see why they couldn't just send people there, but I am in "shut-up-and-do-as-you're-told" mode these days, so....)
It wasn't as easy as it sounds. The available brochures and web sites have conflicting information. Many of the places are open only on weekends, and there's no cell phone service on the mountain, so I wasn't able to call any of them until just before they closed (5 pm) last Sunday, when we got closer to civilization on the way home. (BTW, Daughter, there's a brand new cell tower directly across the road from the little hotel. Not functional yet, but soon. Roman's daughter's birthday was last weekend, and he wanted to call her and was very frustrated by the sight "Is that what I think it is?!" of a non-functioning tower. So near and yet so far.)
Then when I tried to type up what I had yesterday, the editor on the museum computer kept program-checking, and every time it did, it locked the file I had been working on. [Insert choice words here.] I wanted to have it done by Friday, to be ready for the influx of tourists Memorial Day weekend. When I got home yesterday, I found a newspaper insert devoted to the river. All the information I was missing! Current information! Serendipity!
So I went in today to finish. The woman who was supposed to come in to work the shop never showed, so again I found myself minding the register, but we weren't busy, so I was still able to sneak upstairs and finish the notebooks. They look good. I'm proud of them.
In an earlier entry I said something about this being a rinkydink operation (in reference to charging sales tax). I needed a key today. I asked where it was kept. They told me. Incredible. I can't tell you what or where, but it's tantamount to keeping the front door key under the doormat, WITH a list of all the house valuables attached.
I need to draw the maps for the notebooks by Friday, and I have committed to tend the shop Friday afternoon. This is more time than I had planned to contribute - I still have this house to clear out - but I'll back off a bit after Friday. I'll ride on the goodwill from those wonderful notebooks for a while.
698 Some Photos from the Glen
I don't have many photos I can post. Roman photographed the falls, and I mostly took pictures of Roman photographing the falls. I'll post what he sends me later.
The first falls, at the top of the trail. The trail runs very close to the falls - you can see a part of it in the lower right corner. That's a person standing on the large flat rock downstream. Gives you some idea of how steep it is.
The first falls again, from slightly further down.
Ganoga Falls.
Ganoga again. That spot of bright blue is a hiker.
Another falls - I forget which this is - there are 20-some of them....
The trail. It's mostly rocks.
You may notice that I've removed a photo since this was first published. Yeah, the anonymous hiker in beige was Roman. Wasn't he pretty?
And now, something different:
Miss Thunderfoot. She'd rather sleep on scraps of cardboard than on the carpet. Probably because the carpet is full of clumps of fur.
The first falls, at the top of the trail. The trail runs very close to the falls - you can see a part of it in the lower right corner. That's a person standing on the large flat rock downstream. Gives you some idea of how steep it is.
The first falls again, from slightly further down.
Ganoga Falls.
Ganoga again. That spot of bright blue is a hiker.
Another falls - I forget which this is - there are 20-some of them....
The trail. It's mostly rocks.
You may notice that I've removed a photo since this was first published. Yeah, the anonymous hiker in beige was Roman. Wasn't he pretty?
And now, something different:
Miss Thunderfoot. She'd rather sleep on scraps of cardboard than on the carpet. Probably because the carpet is full of clumps of fur.
Monday, May 22, 2006
697 Back From the Glen
I'm back. I'm happy.
I went home with Roman after the Third Thursday dinner, and we left from there after his Friday morning class. We needed two cars, one to leave at the bottom of the mountain, and the other to drive to the top, so we picked up a rental at Avoca. We stayed at the little hotel (which advertises itself as "conveniently located in the Middle of Nowhere"). I can't tell the name of it here because they don't rent to anyone they don't already know, because there's no one there when the restaurant isn't open, so they have to trust you. We had the whole place to ourselves.
It did rain off and on all weekend, but on the mountain it was mostly cloudy, with occasional patches of sun, and occasional patches of showers, so we did the trail anyway. It sprinkled three times during the 3.5 miles of the falls trail, but only the last shower was very heavy, and we were almost at the end by then. We got very wet and very very muddy from the knees down (we may never get the stains out of our shoes), but it wasn't too bad.
The rain actually made things perhaps more beautiful. There was more water roaring over the falls, the leaves were bright and shiny, and the wet tree trunks were in high contrast. Every once in a while the sun would burst through, and it was glorious.
I wore the right shoes this time, Daughter, so my toes didn't get stubbed. I hurt nowhere today.
Roman took a lot of photographs, which he will email to me soon, and I took a few with my 35-mm which I'll take in today to get developed and put on a CD. I'll post a selection sometime later.
He surprised me at one point. He set the timer on the camera so we could get a picture of us together, and then when it was counting down for the second photo, he kissed me. So there are two photos of us standing in front of the trail map sign, and one of them is rather incriminatingly difficult to explain away. It will be interesting to see whether he trusts me enough to send me a copy of that one.
Now I have to get dressed to go to the Maritime Museum to finish a project, and tonight there's a Mensa activities-planning dinner in Fishkill that I had promised to attend.
I went home with Roman after the Third Thursday dinner, and we left from there after his Friday morning class. We needed two cars, one to leave at the bottom of the mountain, and the other to drive to the top, so we picked up a rental at Avoca. We stayed at the little hotel (which advertises itself as "conveniently located in the Middle of Nowhere"). I can't tell the name of it here because they don't rent to anyone they don't already know, because there's no one there when the restaurant isn't open, so they have to trust you. We had the whole place to ourselves.
It did rain off and on all weekend, but on the mountain it was mostly cloudy, with occasional patches of sun, and occasional patches of showers, so we did the trail anyway. It sprinkled three times during the 3.5 miles of the falls trail, but only the last shower was very heavy, and we were almost at the end by then. We got very wet and very very muddy from the knees down (we may never get the stains out of our shoes), but it wasn't too bad.
The rain actually made things perhaps more beautiful. There was more water roaring over the falls, the leaves were bright and shiny, and the wet tree trunks were in high contrast. Every once in a while the sun would burst through, and it was glorious.
I wore the right shoes this time, Daughter, so my toes didn't get stubbed. I hurt nowhere today.
Roman took a lot of photographs, which he will email to me soon, and I took a few with my 35-mm which I'll take in today to get developed and put on a CD. I'll post a selection sometime later.
He surprised me at one point. He set the timer on the camera so we could get a picture of us together, and then when it was counting down for the second photo, he kissed me. So there are two photos of us standing in front of the trail map sign, and one of them is rather incriminatingly difficult to explain away. It will be interesting to see whether he trusts me enough to send me a copy of that one.
Now I have to get dressed to go to the Maritime Museum to finish a project, and tonight there's a Mensa activities-planning dinner in Fishkill that I had promised to attend.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
696 Pardon Me While I ....
I'll be very busy, so don't worry if you don't hear from me until, say, Monday.
Unless it rains all weekend.
Then worry.
Because then I would be in a very very bad mood.
Unless it rains all weekend.
Then worry.
Because then I would be in a very very bad mood.
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"Bad. Everything you say seems to have meaning. I'm not used to that."
Hum... either a mentally retarded moron or he has been dating mentally retarded morons... what kind of talk is that?
If a woman is not smarter than me, why would I want to be with her?
Ah. Yes. But these are American men, who tend to be unsure of themselves to begin with, 58 to 63 years of age and beginning to feel it, who have been through a recent traumatic divorce, and who are probably therefore lacking in self-confidence. I think all they want now is quiet and comfort, softness, no challenge. Someone who will say "Yes, Dear" all the time.
I can provide all that. But I guess they can't see past the ... whatever it is I exude.