772 John Scalzi's Paean to Canada

John Scalzi, of the AOL journal "By The Way...", has written a letter to Canada and posted it in honor of Canada Day. I have copied the whole letter because I think it's wonderful, and I want you to read it, and I know some of you don't want to get the AOL ID required to read his journal. But mostly because I want to keep it, so I can find it again easily in my archives. No, I haven't obtained his permission to copy it, but he gets enough email as it is, and I believe that having given him full credit (and it's not like in copying it I have cost him income from it) it will be ok. If he objects I'll remove it, but I hope that by then you've read it.

John's original is here: http://journals.aol.com/johnmscalzi/bytheway/entries/6146

Dear Canada:

Thank you for being you. As the co-inhabitant on the Great Geographical Duplex known as North America, you are the perfect neighbor: Friendly, decent, hard-working and forgiving. You're the Ned Flanders to our Homer Simpson: Always smiling, always ready to lend a hand, always patient about the return of power tools -- in your case, talent like Mike Meyers or Neil Young, whom we said we were just going to "borrow" for a couple of years, but haven't gotten around to sending back (although, to be fair, we did return Corey Hart in short order, and hardly the worse for wear).

Thank you for never going to war with us. Oh, sure, the British used you as staging grounds for a couple of their wars against us, but that doesn't count; the Brits were abusive, coercive parents to the both of us, so we know they were just using you to get to us, like abusive, coercive parents do sometimes. After we sorted them out, you've been the model of sheer peacefulness, which of course, we've used to our advantage. After all, not having to defend one of the longest contiguous borders in the entire world has saved us a tremendous amount of cash and effort over the years, which we've used to do other things, like, oh, invade Mexico and take over roughly two-thirds of that country.

(Always been touchy neighbor, that Mexico; heck, they practically begged us to invade and take California off their hands for them. We didn't want to do it. Well, maybe James Polk did. But the rest of us could have left well enough alone.)

You, on the other hand, have never given us an excuse to get all Manifest Destiny on you, and that's a fine, fine thing, because you know that in our more intemperate youth, we would have done just that, and then later everyone would have been sorry. Heck, even now, I'm sure there are some elements of our populace who would wouldn't mind stuffing Alberta or British Columbia into a sack if they thought no one was looking -- all that oil and fish and lumber, mmmmm, so tempting. But we'd never do it now. Because you're Canada, our constant, non-belligerent friend, and we couldn't do that to you (at least, so long as you stay in one piece -- another reason to tell those excitable Quebecois to calm the heck down).

We know it can't be easy living with us. It's like being the younger sibling of the Most Famous Person in the World -- the sibling that doesn't actually enjoy fame and went on to become an accountant or some such. When people meet you, they want to talk about your famous sibling and whatever damn fool thing they did that has the newspapers chattering, not about you (or about accounting). And sure, you've gone along with it, more or less politely, but we know that sooner or later it starts to grate on you. You have a life. You have feelings. You're your own country, and sometimes you don't give a crap about what we're doing.

But you still put up with it, and with us. It's more than we do. God forbid someone should ever bring up Canada to us; we'd have a blank look for a second, mumble something like "Oh, yes, Canada, a lovely, lovely country, all that hockey and beer, you know," and then find some way to direct the conversation back to us. We're just that way. It's a weakness. And we're glad you understand it.

And let's be honest. In some ways you're a greater country than the US is. In terms of sheer square mileage (or, in deference to the metric system you use up there, sheer square kilometerage), you've got us beat -- you're the second largest country by land mass, placing silver only to Russia. Also, while you, like we, had this tendency to displace the earlier natives of the land you wanted for yourself, you did a stand-up thing recently and gave many of them their own territory. This is not something I really see the US doing anytime soon -- it's not like we're going to say to our Native Americans, okay, here, have the Dakotas. Also, Macintosh toffee. Please mail me some right now.

Fact is, we don't appreciate you. We ignore you. Despite hearing it played frequently at sporting events, the only two words most of us know of your national anthem are "O, Canada," and that's only because they're also the title of your national anthem. What little of the Canadian culture we do pick up comes from old SCTV skits and Rush albums. You know the name of every US president since Lincoln, whereas we're hard pressed to name your current Prime Minister. The only really nice thing we've done for you in the last couple of decades was to get into a tizzy about those ice skaters a couple of Olympics ago, which prompted media from other places to talk about a "North American bias." We were confused about the "north" part of that.

Well, although I know it won't make up for the years of neglect, or for the waves of draft-dodgers who scurried across your borders, or for stealing the Stanley Cup from you year after year, or for, well, every lame thing we do because we're big, fat, self-centered and oblivious -- I just want to say thank you. Thank you for being so very Canadian: Calm, collected, agreeable with just the merest hint of passive-aggressiveness, which, by the way, we so totally deserve. The fact is, there is no other country we'd prefer to have live with us. Sure, we're all chummy with Britain now, but just imagine what it'd be like if we had to live with them. We'd've nuked them by now. When all is said and done, Canada, we make a perfect pair.

Come here, let's hug. And bring that Macintosh toffee with you.

771 Front Yard Photos

Saturday, July 1, 2006

Some photos showing the newly cleared side of the front yard.

A deer:

Isn't it nice the way this "tree" spreads? Only trouble is, it isn't a tree.

Note the vines climbing up the tree trunk in the above photo. THIS is what it really is:

For you city folk, or non-North Americans, that's poison ivy. It's one of the biggest examples I've ever seen. In the next photo, you can see the full plant. The topknot of smaller leaves at the top are the supporting tree, a black locust.

A view of the newly cleared woods at the bottom of the lot. I noticed yesterday that all the wild roses, Virginia creeper, and poison ivy that the kid cleared out are trying to come back. He had cut them, but not killed the roots, so as soon as we have two days without rain, I'll have to fill the sprayer with Roundup and finish the job.

For the first time in the twelve years I've been living here, the house is visible from the road!

I had mentioned that I may have lost two more trees in that last storm. Yesterday I was able to get a good look. One tree is leaning, but may be ok. One tree is down. Remember that photo above of the enormous poison ivy vine? It was growing up one trunk of a double-trunk locust. Guess which trunk broke and came down. There's now a 5 foot high, 12 foot diameter, mound of poison ivy in the side yard. Any volunteers to clean it up?

770 Ashokan Photos

Saturday, July 1, 2006

Photos from my visit to the Ashokan Reservoir yesterday. They didn't come out well because the sun was behind clouds, and the air was full of mist, and I was using an old point-'n-shoot 35 mm camera with no adjustments, but they're good enough for me.

Unfortunately, it's not all that impressive unless you know what the spillway and the falls normally look like. In the spring, with the snowmelt runoff, there's a light "see-through" spill of water over about half the spillway. In summer, there frequently is almost no spill at all. (This is NYC's water supply.)

The spillway from the bridge, looking northwest:

Below the spillway, the water goes into a small stream over rocks. The stream is usually narrow enough for a good athlete to jump over. People like to sit and picnic on the rocks. They are under water now. For scale, those are fullsized mature trees. View from the spillway bridge, looking southeast:

The stream continues south, through a rock chasm. At a point where the chasm is especially narrow and deep, a road crosses on a little bridge, and just north of the bridge, there's a waterfall. It's usually a tall narrow stream of water, bouncing over three or so levels into a deep narrow cleft. There's so much water here now, the cleft is full - there's almost no falls! The roar was deafening. Looking north from the falls bridge:


The water was moving very fast, looked angry. South from the falls bridge:

This is usually a narrow stream deep in a cleft in the rocks. A closer look downstream:

There seemed to be less water than on Thursday. Thursday, where you see the ripple in the middle of the above photo, and at the top of what appears to be another falls just before the flooded trees, the water was shooting straight up into the air. (Or maybe there's more water now, and, being deeper, it's able to flow more smoothly over the obstructing rocks?)

All the creeks around here are like this now. I wonder what happens to the fish? There's no way they could fight currents like this, so they must get washed away. Away to where? All the creeks around here end up in the Hudson. Do the fish all get washed to the Hudson? The Hudson is tidal and salty. Can creek fish live in that? And almost all the creeks have a dam somewhere. If the fish get washed over the dam, how can there be ANY fish above the dams?

Just another thing I don't understand.

769 Sore Eye

Friday, June 30, 2006

My left eye is red, burning, and weeping. Great. Friday afternoon of a four-day weekend. Typical. Reminds me of when Daughter was little. She always got sick just before four-day weekends.

On the way home from the reservoir last night I stopped to shop for a clock radio. I also bought two more tops, size small, and looked (unsuccessfully) for some smaller bras. I had parked the rental car in the only available space in the huge parking lot. When I came out of the store, it was raining again, and - oh, joy - I couldn't remember where I'd parked.

With the van, that's never a problem, because, well, I know what the van looks like. And it's BIG. So if I just wander in the general direction, I can see it three aisles over. The rental is small, and silver. Every fifth car in the lot was small and silver. (Every second was an SUV, blocking the view of what's next to it.) I went up and down aisles reading license plates, looking for the number on the key tag.

About 2 am last night I headed for bed, and went to put the new tops away, right on top of the pile of size L's that I don't want to wear any more. They look like maternity tops. So I started sorting tops. I now have two large containers of almost-new tops bound for eBay.

Got to bed around 4:30, asleep at 5, and was awakened by a phone call at 9 am. The Maritime Museum volunteer coordinator called, wondering if I could work the gift shop on July 4th. They were going to be closed on the 4th, but then decided to open for the afternoon. (Sheesh. Mickey Mouse outfit. A museum in a tourist area, and they were going to be closed?) I'll be there alone. What the hell, I have no life, yeah, sure, I'll be there. I'll take a book.

Not a good day so far. But it's not raining, and I'll go back to the reservoir with a camera, and maybe things will get better.

768 Ashokan; Trees Down

Thursday, June 29, 2006

I went to the Ashokan Reservoir this evening to see what the rain has done. There's the spillway, where excess water spills over and resumes being a creek. A little further down, the creek passes through a narrow rock gorge, and there's a pretty little falls you can see from the bridge over the creek.

In all the years I've been visiting the reservoir, I have never seen it like it was this evening. The gorge was especially amazing- the entire cleft was full of water, and it was shooting water straight up in the air everywhere it was hitting rocks underneath, places where ordinarily it changes direction, weaving back and forth. There were thousands of swallows wheeling in the air over the water.

I'm going back tomorrow, and tomorrow I won't forget the camera. Pictures will be posted sometime.

It started raining while I was at Ashokan. By the time I got near Kingston, it was raining so hard I decided to take refuge in a diner and have a sandwich, until it stopped. As I was driving on home, I could see a lot of lightening in the direction of home. Big sky to ground bolts, about one every five seconds. Stuff was getting hit.

When I got to the village, I found out what was getting hit. The post office has two beautifully-shaped trees in front. Not big, maybe 20 feet, but spreading. The trunks go up maybe 10 feet and then divide into many spreading branches that are covered in flowers at the end of the branches in mid-summer, and bright yellow-pink leaves in fall. I always wanted to find out what they are, so I could get one for my front yard.

Both trees are now all over the road, getting cut up with chain saws. Sad. I could see men directing traffic around something in the road, and I rolled down the window, and when I got close enough to see what they were cutting up I shouted "Oh, no!" so loud I startled the flagman.

It didn't look like wind damage exactly. The "outside" branches on each tree are ok, but the upwardly spreading branches look like they got split open, like they exploded. They look like pieces of shattered toothpick sticking up. The whole center of each tree, except for the toothpicks, is gone. You see that with lightening damage. I guess I'll find out tomorrow.

Because my street is high, we often get the worst of the wind. There were small and medium sized branches all over the street, and one major tree down, at the house before mine, that I had to inch around. It was too dark to say for sure, but it sorta looks like I may have lost two more trees in the woods. I haven't been able to check the back yard yet.

This is all very weird.

767 Hooked on Cigarettes, Yummies, or Sex - Pick One.

Thursday, June 29, 2006

I was sitting here reading, glanced down at my thigh, and saw an odd black spot. Tiny. It wouldn't brush off. I bent me double so I could get a good look at it. Tick. Nymph. Mouthparts pulled out easily, so I guess it hadn't been "hooked on" for long, but long enough to inject some blood thinner, 'cause there's now a red spot and a tiny lump under the skin.

Now of course I'm feeling things walking all over me. I worry because I have no one to check my back and other awkward places. I can't do it with mirrors because my eyes aren't good enough, and I can't focus in certain ranges. The only way I could identify this as a tick was to take my glasses off and get nose-close. Little hard to do that with my backside.

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With all the rain, my complaint about car windows is back. Used to be that there was a channel around the top of the side windows, so rain from the roof and blown from the windshield was directed around the windows. Like a house gutter works. In cars these days, it seems that channel is missing. The top of the door is smooth, and the sides of the cars have a lot of slope. So when you drive (or even just sit) in the rain with the window slightly open, even just an inch, rain pours in. More than what just falls on that spot, all the rain from that side of the roof and from the side of the windshield drips - more than just drips - is directed! - right in.

Then they put all the electrical buttons for locks, power windows and mirrors, everything, on the door. On a horizontal place. Right where the rain is funneled in. Right into the buttons. That can't be good. Even if you never open the window in the rain, if you open the door in a torrent, those buttons all collect water.

There's an auto supply store next to the rental car office, so yesterday I bought some curved plastic doohickys that you stick on over the windows. They keep wind from blowing in so hard, and maybe they'll block water, too. Next time I get to visit my van, I'll stick 'em on.

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I fell asleep last night with the TV on. Rare, because I almost never watch TV in bed. I can't see it well when I'm lying down, and at the time I usually go to bed, there's nothing but infomercials on. (No cable here.)

Anyway, I woke up this morning to voices on TV, and it felt good! Usually I wake to silence, and that feels so lonesome. Starts the day out lonesome. I think I'll buy me a clock radio.

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Why do all those hour-long infomercials think they have to have music in the background? Not even real music. It's the same 8 or 10 notes repeated over and over. And over. And over. For an hour. Even if I were interested in whatever they were selling, the "music" drives me away by the third bar.

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I want to quit smoking. It's finally really time. It's finally coming from within, which means it finally has a chance of working. But there's a problem.

Cigarettes. Yummies. Sex.

I can do without any two of the above, but not all three at once. Sorry, I really can't.

Example 1 - When I try to go without cigarettes on my own, suddenly the jelly beans and peanut butter cups and potato chips that have been so easy to resist (not even resist - I've had no desire for them this past year) occupy the empty spaces in my mind. I want them! I need them! Combine that with the lowered metabolism when you quit smoking, and my desire to lose these last 20 lbs, and I'm in trouble.

Example 2 - When I am with Roman, I can go without cigarettes, and I don't get food cravings, either. Of course, the longest that's been tested is three days, but I'm confident, given the way I felt on the third day, that it could have been longer. Long enough to detox and lose more weight. But as soon as I leave him, always with the possibility in mind that that was the last time, I immediately need a cigarette. Or a hot fudge sundae.

So before I quit smoking, either I have to lose the last bit of weight and unbury the treadmill, so I can go ahead and indulge my yummy cravings, or I have to find me a man of my own. Preferably both. Otherwise, two weeks in I could break into a Quick Shop in the middle of the night, gobble all the yummies, and rape the clerk. (And if it were Tall Dark & Handsome II, the guy in the village, the temptation is huge!)

I guess I'm just too sensual for words.... (ok, weak. go away.)

766 More 800-503-7001

I'm still getting several search hits a day, people looking for info on 800-503-7001, but almost no one is leaving a comment as to their experience, so thank you Wolfgang for leaving the following comment and letting me know what's been happening. (And, uh, let us know whether you get billed!)

If you are here because you got an odd call from that number, please leave a comment on this post and tell us what your experience was. (If you don't have a Blogger account, don't worry about the "Login" part of the comments form - it won't be necessary to actually log in.)

I'll be happy to act as "800-503-7001 Central". Come back and see what others have to say.

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At 5:28 PM EDT, Wolfgang K said...
When you see the Caller ID 800-503-7001 DO NOT PICK-UP!!!

Today, 06/28/2006 at 13:11 PDT I received a call from them, stating that they are [why-pe-dot-com], something like yp.com.

The guy on the phone initially only wanted to confirm my business information he had for a yellow page listing and then said that they would offer me premium service for free. After he had confirmed all the info with me on the phone, he brought an automated and recording service on the line that asked to answer the questions after the beep. Answers will be recorded, he said and that I am not supposed to hit pound after each answer, instead he would do so for me.
So as soon as I had answered the questions like what is the business name and address and my name and title, they said that they now will start with a free complimentary yellow page business listing that will be upgraded automatically after ten days and the monthly service charge of $39.99 will be billed directly on the next phone bill. I clearly said 'no' at that time and that I am not accepting any such offer. Outrageously enough the guys said, you need to answer with 'yes' to confirm your understanding that you will have to call to cancel your service, do you understand? At that time I said 'no, I am not accepting any service' and assume that this still would have been recorded. So technically, I should be OK and they should not be able to charge anything on my phone bill.

Since they apparently can bill through the phone company, there must be some sort of affiliation even though the automated voice said that there was no direct relationship with the public phone service provider. Since they have the ability to charging their service on the phone bill they must be regulated under FCC regulations - I assume.
Somebody should go and get them!

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In the call I got, the woman didn't get any further than comfirming that I am (Hidden), and then she hung up. No explanation of why she wanted to know, which messed with my head more than a little.

765 Wednesday

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

I took the van back to Mr. T. early this morning. They "wiped the codes", I guess that means they reset the van's computer, and they told me to drive it for a few days and see what happens.

I decided to drive around right then. I got 15 miles and it was perfectly fine, and then suddenly it hesitated a few times, the check engine light went on, and almost immediately it stalled, right in the middle of an intersection. It took three tries to get it to start again.

I think it's the computer. Either the computer is bad, or it's getting bad input. GIGO. The van ran fine until the computer had acquired enough info to start trying to adjust stuff, and then it choked the engine. That's what I think. But what do I know.

Limped back to Mr. T.'s. He wasn't happy. Got another Enterprise rental. Enterprise is starting to feel sorry for me. They gave me a Kia, with $20/day off the regular price.

Dinner this evening with Mensa, an Indian restaurant in New Paltz. I wore a sari.

Roman and I talked for a while at the car after dinner, and I offended him again. We had a good phone conversation last night, and he called to make sure I was awake early this morning, but it was like I had to annoy him to push him away this evening. Which really wasn't necessary. I had sat across the table from him through dinner (so much for his promise to always save me a seat next to him - I arrived late), and he avoided my eyes all evening. I guess it will take us a while to figure out how to relate.

Oh, well, just as well, I guess. I need someone who is more open and less guarded. But just as sensitive, intelligent, and furry. Big order. Not easy. Discouraging.

764 "freedbacking" and "bloglines"

[Later edit - added the "oops" at the bottom.]

The Blogger folks want feedback. We are to post our comments and suggestions, with the words "freedbacking" and "bloglines" in the post, so they can collect them.

Okey Dokey. Here's mine.

When a visitor comes into my blog at a particular entry, rather than the main page, they see the "About Me" and a list of posts previous to this particular one, but they do not see the archives links, posts subsequent to this one, nor my other links. There is no obvious way the visitor can get to posts after (later than) the one they came in to - and that's likely the direction they'd want to go. So -

• When one post is showing, we need "Forward" and "Back" buttons, at the least.


• It would be nice if the full Archives list was also provided with a single entry.


• (It would be best if all the usual "non-body" stuff were included with a single post, but hey, I don't want to be greedy....)

The second suggestion concerns viewing the archives. Displaying one month's worth all at once can make for a huge page! And it's sometimes difficult to find a particular entry or date unless you can remember a unique word combination to search on. So -

• Instead of displaying a month of archived posts as one huge page, could they be displayed as date, title (the link), and the first ten words? Sort of like what you get when you use the "Search this blog" button.
  

Other than that, I'm happy.

[Oops? I notice that most others are posting comments and suggestions for Bloglines. I thought they wanted comments on Bloglines and/or Blogger. My suggestions apply to Blogger only. They are the same folks, aren't they? No? Oh well. Maybe they'll pass it along.]

763 My Mini-Van Is Trying to Kill Me

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Got the call from Mr. T. this afternoon that the van was all fixed and ready to go. It seems it was again (third time) a bad sensor. The first two were the O2 sensor, this time it was the cam position sensor. $165. I paid for the repair, transferred my junk from the rental car back to the van, and drove the rental to Kingston to return it. Enterprise provided a driver to take me back to Mr. T.'s.

Started up the van, got about two blocks down the road, and --- the check engine light went on.

I caught Mr. T. in the parking lot as he was closing up. He said "You're kidding. I drove it to Rhinebeck and back this morning to test it, and it was fine. You drive it a half mile, and it breaks." He says it's time to trade it in. "It's seven years old, and it's going to start costing more to fix it than it's worth."

Well, it's not really seven years old. It's a Braun conversion Chrysler-Dodge Entervan (watch the little movie at the link), so although it's a 2000 model, it didn't go on the market until 2001. The odometer just turned 40,000 miles. The only thing that has ever gone wrong with it is those silly sensors. And it's more than just a mini-van. It's an easy-to-load enclosed "pickup truck", a camper, and a passenger car all rolled into one. I can stand up straight inside. I love it! I'm not ready to give it up.

But it's killing me.

So, it goes back in early tomorrow morning. I may or may not have to rent another car. Bleck.

762 Say It, Sister!

You want to work up a little righteous indignation? Read this: http://alienmemoirs.typepad.com/my_weblog/2006/06/iran_auschwitz_.html, from Aya.

("We" and "our" refers to the Middle East in general, and Saudi Arabia in particular.)

761 800-503-7001

[Edit 08/30/2006 - Google turns up this entry for people searching on "800-503-7001". If that includes you, dear reader, please go to this later entry instead, and leave a comment.]


Heh heh! I'm still getting hits from people searching for information on that strange phone number, like six more today. I know why my entry shows up in the search results list, but I couldn't understand why anyone would bother to actually go look at it. There must be more promising stuff out there.

So I searched for 800-503-7001 in Google, and guess what? I'm the only hit! Snork!

The searchers are probably disappointed, not only because I have nothing to offer, but, because all these entries are ONE PAGE, they are presented with the whole thing, not the 800-503-7001 piece. They could search the blog at the top, but I don't think they do. They take one look, give up, and leave. Snork snork.

Besides, the entries with the comments that could shed light don't have the number in them.

(So, if you're here looking for info on 800-503-7001, there's no answer here. Could be international call, calling card call, blocked number, bleck. Theories, no facts. My case was a female voice who asked "Are you Silk-En-Drum?" and hung up immediately when I said yes. Stalker?)

760 Tree Attacks

Monday, June 26, 2006

I heard a sound outside this afternoon, like someone was unloading boxes from a truck in the driveway, but I hadn't heard a truck come up the drive. I went outside to look for the source of the noise, and found a tree had fallen in the newly cleared woods.

A black locust had split diagonally about 15 feet up the trunk, and the top 50 feet of the tree had fallen. Luckily, it fell toward the property line, not across the driveway, but it took out the cord the kid had so painstakingly laid to mark the lot line.

I forgot to mention that a tree fell on the road as I was returning from a meeting in Highland last evening. I was entering the village (the speed limit had just dropped from 55 to 40mph, which was lucky), and suddenly, whoosh, a tree fell from the right verge, across the road very close in front of me. I whipped into the left lane and shoulder, so I bounced over some smaller branches from the top of the tree. The tires on the rental car felt wobbly for a few blocks, but then it straightened out, so no damage done. But it sure was scary. I don't know what would have happened if I'd hit the trunk, or if there had been a car coming from the other direction - or if it fell on me!

Hmmmmm. I never did look to see if there were any scratches on the side of the car. Ok, I just went out and looked. It's ok. I'd hate to have to explain to Enterprise.

Oh, and I haven't heard anything about the van yet. Not good.

We've had rain for most days of every week for a long time now. Heavy rain, not just showers. There's standing water everywhere, and frequent crawls across the bottom of the TV screen, warning of flooding. Except for a few thunderstorms, there hasn't been much wind, so I don't know why these trees are breaking partway up, as opposed to uprooting from the soggy ground. In both cases, there was only a little high wind. Gently waving treetops, not like in past storms, when I've seen these same trees bent almost parallel to the ground. (It takes a LOT to put a 90 degree bend in a black locust!)

I don't much care for rain anyway, but the weather lately feels almost ominous. The air is green.

759 Dance Video

I hesitated at first to post this without specific permission, but it's on her commercial website, and I have pointed people there before, so anyone could get there on their own, and besides, recognition and advertising ain't bad, so.... without futher ado:

If you have a fast connection, like cable, watch this:

http://www.crimsongypsy.com/dance/WillowFloorworkLg.mov

This is Willow. The video is in Quicktime format, about 48 mb. Without a fast connection you won't get the full effect, you'll miss the fluidity. Note the controlled strength, the sensuousness, the power.

Absolutely amazing. (With my dialup connection, I haven't seen this video, but I saw the live performance on June 17 in New Paltz, where this was taped.)

You're welcome.

758 Spyware Zapping

Sunday, June 25, 2006

Last night I installed Spybot - Search & Destroy, and started a scan. After one hour, Spybot had scanned all of about 8,000 of 41,392 files, or definititons, or whatever that number is. I left it running and went to bed.

When I checked this morning, I expected to see the promised red and green list of bad stuff and maybe-ok stuff. Instead, I found ... nothing. Then I noticed that some things that I had stopped before starting Spybot, like the external hard drive handler, were up. Apparently, sometime during the night, the system had restarted.

Spybot wouldn't do that. About the only time I've seen the system re-IPL itself is when the electricity bounced. And when power blinks enough to cause that, household clocks are left blinking - especially the one on the microwave.

The microwave is not blinking.

I have no idea what happened.

I restarted Spybot, and it seems to be running faster this morning, even though I'm typing this into Notepad at the same time.

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

Well, an hour and a half later, it has found:

• Ferret
• Hotbar
• WebTrends live
• ValueClick
• SexTracker (?!?!)
  
• MediaPlex
• HitBox
• FastClick
• DoubleClickCoreMetrics
• CasaleMedia
• BFast
• Avenue A, Inc
• Alexa Related
• Adviva
• Advertising.com
• Bluemountain
• BonziBuddy

All in red. I had Spybot remove or neuter them all.

757 My Power Color

Your Power Color Is Red-Orange

At Your Highest: You are warm, sensitive, and focused on your personal growth. At Your Lowest: You become defensive and critical if you feel attacked. In Love: You are loyal - but you demand the respect you deserve. How You're Attractive: You are very affectionate and inspire trust. Your Eternal Question: "Am I Respected?"

What's Your Power Color?


This is so true, I think.

-----------------------------
I got to thinking about how the above is so true for me. Weird how sometimes these stupid quizzes seem to come out right on the mark. (Of course - if they don't, the results don't get posted.) Anyhow, I decided to take the test again, but to answer as a particular friend would answer.

Your Power Color Is Teal

At Your Highest: You feel accomplished and optimistic about the future. At Your Lowest: You feel in a slump and lack creativity. In Love: You tend to be many people's ideal partner. How You're Attractive: You make people feel confident and accepted. Your Eternal Question: "What Impression Am I Giving?"

What's Your Power Color?

This is scary. It's perfect! Even weirder, the two colors chosen have significance. No other colors would have meant anything, but these do. I'm getting that weird feeling again....

756 Craft Fair; Back Hurting

I went to the craft fair at the fairgrounds. This is the second one this year. I go even if I don't intend to buy anything because everything is so beautiful. It most certainly isn't junk. It's like a big collection of boutiques. There are usually more than 300 vendors, and one building is all almost all foods, with samples offered (including tastes from many local wineries).

There used to be one fair per year in Rhinebeck, and one in New Paltz, Memorial Day and Labor Day. Now there are several during the year, and I don't understand why, because you overhear the vendors telling each other they haven't sold much of anything, and complaining about all the lookers and no buyers. I hear it a dozen times every visit.

Partly it's because things are so ridiculously expensive. There was a woman who had short jackets made of the same iridescent Thai silk I've been buying (direct from Thailand) for $7 or less a 45"-wide yard. The jackets use no more than a yard and a half each (including the lining in a lighter silk), and are a simple design. Once you got going, and cut the patterns en masse, you could make them at the rate of one an hour. She wanted $275. Are you kidding me? Everything was like that. There's a jeweler who wraps stone in gold wire, and I look at his stuff every visit. The "Australian opal in matrix" pendants that I salivate over every visit have gone from $135 to $760. Sorry. There are things you want and things you need. $760 is way past want and the pendant is nowhere near need.

I didn't buy anything - not even food - this time. I took a bottle of water with me ($.88 at the deli Vs. $2.00 at the fair) and an egg salad sandwich.

I seem to be having trouble with my back. I had pain on the top back of my left hip when I got to the fairgrounds, and within the first hour of walking around, it had moved to a belt of crampy pain around my waist. To lighten my purse (for carrying the water) I had removed the cosmetic bag, which happened to also contain my aspirin, so I had nothing for the pain.

After almost three hours of looking at stuff, my right leg was dragging, and if I wasn't careful, I kept staggering to the left. The right leg wasn't lifting from the hip, and the left knee felt weak. At least twice when I staggered too far left I almost fell. I looked drunk. I couldn't seem to walk straight.

I keep saying I'm healthy. I have no conditions that require monitoring, treatment, or medication. My blood pressure is good, cholesterol total was a bit high, but the ratio of HLD to LLD was also extremely high, which is good (and I suspect that since I've improved my diet and lost weight the total is now lower), and so on.

But I have pain. A lot. Always. Everywhere. It's my spine. Old injuries. And a mild fibromyalgia (I have almost all the pressure points). Sometimes my legs don't work so well. I can walk and walk for miles and miles, even when they're acting badly. It's just that sometimes I fall down or to the side, because the knee or thigh muscles just quit suddenly, or I have difficulty standing up after sitting for a while. It's like sometimes my legs just aren't listening! They don't pay attention.

I know that I have to sit and stand straight, keep my weight well balanced. If I slump, it causes problems in my spine. Shifts the weight badly (my bust is heavy, I guess). I'm probably having more difficulty now than I've had in a while because I've been feeling pretty sad and miserable lately, and I've been slumping. At home I've been frumping around all folded up, shoulders rolled forward, spine curved forward, like I have a bellyache, or like I'm expecting a beating. I don't do it in public. In public I'm straight.

Maybe I should spend more time in public.

Piper knows how I've been feeling. He left on a ten-day vacation today with his lady Di, but he called while I was out to see how I was, and he left his cell number "in case I need him". ( His thinly-disguised excuse for the call was to verify that I had received the check I needed to pay the estimated taxes. The tax payment was due on the 15th. He knows durn well that if I hadn't received the check before then, I'd have been pounding on his door! ) It was very thoughtful of him. I appreciate his concern.

755 Site Statistics, Domain, Van, Rental Car

I've been having fun reading the information collected by SiteMeter for this journal. I've had a lot of visits from strange and far-away places, as a result of Google (and other search engine) hits.

The search arg that got a lot of hits the other day was "InfoStealer". Seems like for about two days, about the same time I discovered it on my system, a lot of people were looking for information on it, and dropping in on my post (#747, below). Significantly, those searches seem to have dropped off.

Now, today, I'm getting hits on "800-503-7001". Six already today. That post (#750, below) has been out there two days, and today people are looking for information on that phone number. How strange. I wish more of them would leave comments - "what kind of call did YOU get?" One guy says he gets calls from that number in response to business ads he places in magazines. But he didn't say what kind of calls. I guess they must be odd, if he's Googling the number....

Gee. Too bad my posts don't contain information of much use to anyone. It feels like back when I was working, when people would stick their heads in my door and ask a question. I always tried to find an answer. Now I feel like all these people are asking, and I'm letting them down.

In reference to that strange phone call, on the off chance that someone wants the "(Hidden)" name, Roman strongly recommended that I register the domain. So I went to NetworkSolutions.com this morning, and took care of it. There's now a dummy www.(Hidden).com "Under Construction" site out there, set up by NetworkSolutions, and full of drum-related advertising. Bleck! But I'm not ready to find a host yet, so I guess I'll have to put up with that. At least the name's mine now for the next three years.

Roman called as I was heading out the door to take the van in for service. We had a very nice conversation. He said he seemed to remember a recall for my van, similar to my "it just quit!" problem. Told me where to look it up online.

Mr. T., the first-choice mechanic, figured it was the same bad sensor (the notorious O2 sensor) as before, so he tested it immediately. He came out to the waiting area and said, "It's the mumble mumble sensor [I didn't catch the mumble, because I was too hung up on what he said next, but it wasn't O2]. The sensor appears to be ok, but it doesn't know where your engine is. [Huh?] Could be engine, could be wiring, could be computer. Leave it here. We'll look at it Monday. Go next door and rent a car."

Gak!

Rent-a-Wreck is next door to Mr. T., but they didn't have anything available. So I called Enterprise, across the river. Things got interesting.

I asked for a compact or sub compact. They didn't have any available, but offered me a 4-door pickup truck, at $84.99 a day. Gak! I might be driving this thing a week or more!
"Um, do you have any mid-size cars available?"
"Yes."
"How much for a mid-size?"
"$69.99"
"That's $15 less a day. I'll take the mid-size. Um, why didn't you offer me the mid-size first? Why the pickup?"
"Because the mid-size won't be available until 5 pm. The pickup's available now."
(It was then 3:15 pm. Since their man has to come and get me and take me there, I couldn't get there in less than 45 minutes anyway.)
"I'll wait."
Sheesh. For $15 a day, I can wait an hour and a half.

So I went to the diner next to Mr. T.'s and ate (yummy Greek spinach pie) and the Enterprise guy picked me up at 4:30. When we got to the Enterprise office, a sub-compact had just come in, and I got it for significantly less, minus a discount as a 'The Company' retiree. Whoop whoop!

Good things come to those who wait.

754 Bits - Phone call, Passivity, etc

Contributions, as to where the strange phone call may have come from. It could be a pre-paid calling card. It could be an international call. It could be through the internet. It could have been made by dialing *67 first, to block Caller-id. No way to tell. I am at an impasse.

Roman says it could not be "her", because he's sure she has never heard of [Deleted], and besides, even if she had, "she'd never consider doing something like that." (An implied criticism that I would. I certainly would NOT have called, but you bet your booty I'd have looked it up on the internet!)

He attributes it to niceness. I attributed it to passivity.

I've been reading up on PPS, and it may explain the passivity. The polio virus damages the dopamine-producing cells in the brain, and a shortage of dopamine contributes to pain due to mental fatigue, memory problems, and cognitive problems. Polio also damages the brain stem, or the recticular activity system (RAS), which is "responsible for keeping the brain awake." So. She's got a lot on her plate, and some things just aren't worth the effort. Trusting him made it easy to not pay attention. You don't expend energy where it's not necessary.

I'll kick him next time I see him for taking advantage of that.

I also read a bit on the psychology of the syndrome. Survivors have worked hard all their lives to overcome physical challenges, and they find it difficult to admit that they now have to "admit deficiencies", and change their lifestyles to accomodate the fatigue. They have to eat a lot of protein, and to keep the muscles from atrophying, they have to do exercises that deplete the limited store of energy they have every day, but if they don't do the exercises, the energy supply will grow progressively smaller.

If he lived with her, he'd probably nag her to do what she has to do. She probably doesn't want that just yet.

753 The Van - Check Engine Again

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Y'all might remember when I had trouble with the check engine light. Second-choice garage decided it was the sensor, nothing wrong with the engine, and they replaced the sensor. Two months later the light went on again. First-choice garage decided it was the sensor, nothing wrong with the engine. Much fuss and furor over who was going to replace it, and for how much. Second-choice garage finally caved and replaced it for free. That was maybe two or three months ago.

Last night, on my way home from the talk with Roman, I stopped at the grocery store and ran into first-choice mechanic. He asked how the van was doing, and I said that the sensor got replaced free, and it's fine now.

Ten minutes later!!!!, as I made the turn into my street, the van quit. It just turned off. No steering power, no brakes, no dashboard lights, no air conditioning, nothing. The only sign of life was the headlights, and the "oil pressure" light. Little red oil can sitting there on the bad-news-panel.

I sat there for a minute, grateful that there had been no one behind me, and I was safely off the highway, and then I tried restarting it. It started ok, but the oil can stayed lit. I limped home, and decided to check the oil today, when it was light.

Naturally, I forgot. This evening I made a salad run to the deli around the corner. The oil can was not lit, so I had no reminder. Just before I turned into the deli, the van hesitated, sorta like that slight hesitation when an automatic transmission is shifting, y'know? It hesitated twice in rapid succession, and then ... and then ...

... the check engine light went on.

I may cry.

752 The Talk

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Roman and I met in the parking lot last evening, ate in the diner (which was too noisy for talking) and then he drove us to one of the river mansions, where we sat on a bench on the grounds and talked for several hours.

He was more open than he has ever been, and I understand a lot more now about him, her, their relationship, us. Not everything, but enough.

Until now, I was convinced that she did not love him, that she was stringing him along and using him. Because I do love him, I found that maddening. Like even if I didn't end up with him, he had to get away from her. That he could never be happy with her. She was tearing him up and wasting his time. I couldn't understand why he was so fascinated with her, and why, if he had such strong feelings for her, why was he messing with me.

I keep saying that all I want is for him to be happy, and it's true, even if no one believes it.

Now, I know what the situation is. I know what the connection is, and a little about why she is holding him off. I know that even if he isn't, and may never be, completely happy with her, he would be more unhappy without her, even if she is the one who breaks it off.

So, ok, I'll change what I want. All I want is for him to be less unhappy. I'll do whatever I can to help.

He says all she knows about me is that I exist, that I used to work with him. Nothing else. The woman has no curiosity. She didn't even ask how long it had been going on, or whether he'd slept with me. She asks no questions. I had thought it was because she didn't care, but now I think it's just her personality. He didn't use the word, but I believe she is extremely passive.

He did tell her that it wasn't a Boston RG he went to last month, that he went to Pennsylvania with me. She asked if the March RG was real, and he said yes, that one was real. But she didn't ask, and he didn't tell her, that he went with me.

Passive.

He apparently likes passive. Where he and I have butted heads to the point of making him angry is that I am nowhere near passive. I want to understand everything, and I will do whatever I need to do to get the information I need. That frightens him in two ways - he's afraid of his own anger, and, not that he's trying to hide anything, but it bothers him that he can't predict me. I need him to be open, but he's simply not introspective enough to be comfortable with that. I want him to tell me what he feels, and half the time he doesn't know what he feels. Therefore, she, with her passive acceptance, is much more comfortable for him. Calming.

I see that. Her upbringing and mine were very different.
She had polio when she was three years old, and has been protected and coddled all her life. I escaped an extremely abusive family only to be used and abused by others.
She has faith that she will be safe. There's a wonderful calmness inside with that. I know the only way I can be safe is to be vigilant, to be aware of all threats and be armed against them.
She is used to being taken care of. I know that in the end, only I can take care of me.

And now she has a debilitating illness that is threatening her. Roman finally told me how she is affected. He does do a lot for her. She needs him. I don't.

He thinks that because of the personality conflicts, he and I would probably never last in a long-term intense relationship anyway. I think it could work if I didn't feel threatened, but as long as she's alive, I'd feel threatened. And whatever else, he'd always be on guard, afraid of my probing.

So, ok, I accept that. He isn't the first man I've loved that I ultimately realized I couldn't live with. It doesn't change the love, but it changes the expectations.

I think they will be alright. He has saddened and disappointed her, he says she's still angry, but I suspect she will forgive him. She let him stay over from Saturday night 'til Tuesday morning - so it can't be too bad. I doubt, from what I've heard of her personality, that she will "snipe" at him for long, if at all, so it will probably soon blow over.

We're going to try being friends. I don't know how that will work out.

Friends with occasional benefits.

I need once more, soon, just to erase the Glen as the last time. The Glen is too important to me, and I need to replace that memory with another.

He said maybe a lot more. (Damn his mixed messages!) I guess neither of us want to give it up entirely.

I said not again for a while. Maybe a long while.

I need to internalize my new knowledge, to be able to defend myself against mixed messages. Otherwise we'd just fall back into the old patterns.

He said yeah, can't have you hoping again.

Sigh.

751 A Thought on Dates....

In the US, the standard date format is (m)m/(d)d/(yy)yy, as in November 2, 2003 = 11/2/03 or 11/02/2003.

In other parts of the world, it might be (d)d/(m)m/(yy)yy, as in 02/11/03.

Neither has ever made much sense to me.

In many applications, it is customary to put the global set first, then the first subset, then the subset of that subset, and so on. Makes for easier sorting.

Note that the format for time is that way - hh:mm:ss
And ordinary numbers - Thousands hundreds tens ones

In my opinion, now that much of the world is computerized, everyone ought to be using yyyy/mm/dd, or even do away with the superfluous slashes altogether and just write yyyymmdd.

When I label set of files that I might eventually want to sort by date, like photographs or a series of text files, I use yymmdd in the file name. They sort nicely.

750 Mysteriouser and Mysteriouser

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Brilliant flash this morning. I don't have Caller-id, but I do have *69! And that "Silk En Drum" call was the last incoming on the house phone. So I tried *69. The call came from 1-800-503-7001, at 2:53 pm on June 20.

The phone company message said that I could reach that number by dialing "1", so I did, and got the message that "this number cannot be reached by this method".

So I dialed it myself.

I got a fast-busy signal. I shrugged and pressed the "Busy Redial" button on my phone. Normally, what happens is that the phone will redial the number on speakerphone every few minutes, listen for a few seconds, and if it's still busy (5 beeps worth), will hang up and try again. This time, on the first try, it dialed, got the same beeps I had gotten, but it didn't drop. Instead, the phone added its own higher beep, and hung on until an operator message about "all circuits are busy" came on. It never dropped the connection to retry. I had to break the connection myself. This is strange. It's not what Busy Redial usually does.

Since sometimes you can't call an 800 number if it's local, and my cell phone thinks it lives in a different area code, so while the house phone was doing its thing, I tried the number on the cell phone. The result was even stranger. The cell attempted the connection for exactly 3 seconds of silence, then dropped the attempt. Several times. No indication of anything.

Next, I went to Reversephonedirectory.com. I typed in only the 800 part, and Reversephonedirectory suggested the 503-7001 itself! Huh? So I said ok, search, and I got a blank search results screen. Not even a "can't find it". Several other searches, like in the internet toll-free directory, and others suggested by Dogpile.com got no hits.

Ok. Anybody out there recognise the number?

Anybody better at research than I?

Has my link list kicked off a secret gommunt investigation?

Should I get a big dog?

749 The "Edited" Call

Late Tuesday evening, June 20, 2006

(10/24/2015 - I have edited out the operative word here because I may have a nasty stalker who knows me only by that id.  I would prefer he does not find this blog by Googling my id.)

There are only a very few local people who know this journal exists, perhaps five. Of those, I'm certain that two have long forgotten about it, even before it moved from AOL to Blogger. Of the remaining three, one never reads it, one occasionally reads, and one reads often, and those three are trusted friends. So I can safely say that of all the local people who know me personally, almost no one knows about this blog.

"EditedOut" is slightly better known. It has a legal existence, it's my id on several obscure specialized services, including the local Mensa group, on a few online auction services, and other online milieus. My alter ego, so to speak. If you Google "EditedOut", you'll find this journal. But there's no particular reason for anyone to want to search for "EditedOut" in the first place. (10/24/2015 - unless I piss them off.) And you will not find my phone number connected with it anywhere, with the sole possible exception of eBay, and then only if you've sold me something sometime in the past. I haven't been active on eBay in over a year.

So, how did "EditedOut" (pronounced by the caller in three careful pieces, like Ed-dedi-tout) get connected to my phone number this afternoon?

The local friend who does read this journal says she's on the edge of her seat, and finds the phone call I mentioned ominous. Yeah. It's bothering me, too. Phone calls seem to figure heavily in the development of issues lately.

Ok, what are the possibilities?

I mentioned a legal factor. The records are public, and it's possible someone has an interest in acquiring the name to use for a business, and it's possible that my phone number is on the records (but I don't think so). But there are two problems with that. First, the woman pronounced it as if she had heard it, but had not seen it written. Second, I doubt that anyone who wanted to acquire the name would have taken so long to speak, then have asked if I was Ed-dedi-tout and then hung up as soon as I said yes.

Another possibility: an eBay seller I had done business with is checking her records for old customers. Again, there's the pronunciation problem, an email would be more productive, and - there's no reason for her to hang up abruptly.

Perhaps it's a friend who already has my number, found this journal by accident, put two and two together, and decided to ask. Again, why hang up? And why the artificially high voice and the fake-sounding accent? Shouldn't there be some gloating?

It could be some reader of this journal, a relative stranger with extraordinary research talents, who set out to find me. That's a possibility. It's happened before to other people. But I doubt it. I don't think I've interested or offended anyone enough to earn that much effort. But if it WAS one of you, 'fess up in a comment. And if any of you would like to take up the challenge, send me my phone number in a comment. I review all comments before they're posted, so I'll just not post that one. But I'll mention it!

Daughter and (if I know her taste at all) her friends are too mature for that kind of "fun".

The last possibility is the worrisome one. That "she" found my phone number in Roman's land line phone bill or on his cell phone, and that he had somehow sometime mentioned EditedOut, and she put two and two together, and called to confirm that they went together. I asked him, and he says he has never mentioned EditedOut. But there are several things he has said to me that he later doesn't remember saying, or actively denies saying. The fact that she could, from the phone number, find my real name and address doesn't bother me.

This is ridiculous. Unbelievable even. Unbelievable if it weren't for the fact that I had contemplated a similar call to her. One small question and hang up.

For the next few weeks, I'm taping calls.

Now if it was her, and if she has any brains or curiosity at all, she could easily find this journal.

There's nothing here that isn't truth (as far as I know it). I can hold my head up. What worries me is that:

• maybe she will find it, and it will blow Roman out of the water completely if he hasn't come completely clean with her, and he'll never forgive me.
• maybe she will find it, but never let on to him, and hold onto him, but harden her heart against him. For years and years and years.
• maybe she won't find it. Yet. Swords hanging by threads. Please, get it over with already!

I wish I had caller id.

I don't care. Let the cards fall.... Whatever happens is meant to happen.

See me continuing to write here? I dare fate!

739 The Crisis - "Someone Should Tell Her"

Ok. This post is out of sequence for a reason. There's been something (not so very) mysterious going on. Here it is - the hitherto unpublished events of the past ten days. It's long. It's boring. It shouldn't even be here, but I'm angry and I don't care. Many of the thoughts and feelings have changed since they were written, but here's the full progression.
------------------------------------------

Written Thursday afternoon, June 15, 2006, about events the previous Saturday and Sunday:

The title of this journal is "I Don't Understand". Because mainly I don't.

Like, why are so many of my supposed friends so eager to tell me that Roman is involved with another woman? What I didn't know until last Saturday night is that so many of them had met her. Apparently, before he got involved with me, he had taken her to Mensa events [later edit - only two, both at NJ's], and everyone "knew" that he was living with her.

Saturday night, Moonlight Madness. A bunch of women in NJ's kitchen. All very eager to tell me all about her and all about him, that they have been living together for years, that they vacation in Arizona, that.... I listened until I got pissed because they had so much wrong, and then I corrected their misconceptions. No, he is NOT living with her. He has his own place, and goes over to her place on Friday nights through Monday morning. She won't let him move in with her. No, all his furniture is not in her house. She probably wouldn't ALLOW any of his stuff in her house. His furniture is at his place, and some is stored in her garage, the dining room set he's trying to sell. She has a daughter in Arizona. And yes, he lies to her because he knows he can get away with it, and she's either not swift enough or doesn't care enough to figure it out.

I told them a bit about what's true, and what's REALLY been going on. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I'm not sorry I did.

They were thoroughly shocked that I knew about her.

They were even more shocked, and upset, that she DIDN'T know about me.

The consensus was that he's pond scum, I'm a fool (which they kept telling me over and over), if there's me "there are probably others", after me "there will definitely be others", and most of all, repeated several times to general nods and acclaim, "Someone should tell her!"

Someone should tell her.

Of course, no one was willing to be the one to tell her.

They tried to convince me I should tell her. I said I couldn't, but if anyone else wanted to, be my guest. When they asked why I couldn't tell her, I said it was because I'd promised Roman I wouldn't. They asked what a promise to him was worth. "He's scum. He's not worth wasting a promise on."

They asked why, knowing what I know, why do I continue? I said because I fell in love with him. I appreciate all the good things about him, and understand the bad. And because he's absolutely terrific in bed. Best ever, and I've been around enough to know. (I've been around enough to know that it's not individual skill that pushes it into the spectacular zone - it's the combination. And together, we are terrific. We match perfectly in so many ways.) I can't give him up. I've tried, and I am trying, but when he smiles I want him. All of him. And they don't understand what's going on. He's really a nice guy, just very confused.

"He can be very charming."

"Yeah. But he's scum."

Now, here's what I don't understand, what's been tearing me up for the past four days:

Why is everyone so anxious to tell me? Is it because they do like me and want to "save" me, or because they don't like me and don't mind hurting me?

And why is their reaction "Someone should tell her!" (not just that night, but on two earlier occasions, too, different people), and yet no one will? Is it because they like her and don't want to hurt her, or that they don't want to get involved (then why are they so eager to tell me?), or that they don't like either of them and think they deserve each other?

She's using him the same as he uses me. She's playing him, like he plays me. She likes having a handyman and lover and social escort on the weekends. Single women don't get invited out much by couples, and she likes her social life. Her ex-husband has moved on, and she likely would be embarrassed to go to family functions alone. Her excuses for not allowing him into her life fully are exactly that - excuses! If she really loved him, she'd want him there with her. If she really loved him, she'd had offered back in December, when his housemate moved out and it looked like his rental house would be sold. And deep down, Roman knows all of that, and that's why he messed with me. But he stays with her because he keeps hoping she will love him. He told me once that he attempted to break up with me in January because I was forcing him to look at things he didn't want to see. Isn't denial a wonderful thing?

Sitting here thinking about it, I just realized something else the kitchen women probably misunderstood. I didn't know about her at first. He told me at first that he "had been seeing someone" for about two and a half years, but that "the relationship had changed, it wasn't good anymore". He asked me several times over the course of the next few months, "Please don't change." He allowed me to believe it was over with her until November, when I put two and two together and figured out that he was still seeing her. I tried to break up with him then, but couldn't. I tried again in January, and couldn't. In late February he asked me to "wait for him", he said that I might be "the woman I spend the rest of my life with". In March I complained that she gets 60 hours a week with him, and I'm lucky to get 12, and his response was "I'm working on that." Just lately he's been exploring Ulster job opportunities - which happen to be more convenient to my house.

So they may think she's the "Wronged Woman", and I'm the "Little Homewrecker", and that's why they're willing to hurt me but not her....?

On second thought, no. They were truly surprised that I knew about her. They really thought he was playing me. Ok, back to "don't understand" mode.

I know my feelings for him are (were?) pure and true. I suspect her feelings are not. I think I have been more wronged! By her, by her hanging on to him when she doesn't really want him. Just to have somebody when it's convenient. She is doing him wrong, and he's doing the same to me, and lying to her in the process.

I asked him once what she would do if she found out about me, and he said "Oh, she'd be mad, but she wouldn't throw me out." Cocky SOB, isn't he.... But then, I didn't throw him out either. He can be very charming.

So Sunday, I went to the computer show with Roman, and told him about the previous evening. I was very upset. I told him I felt like a fool, and that I was the laughingstock of Mensa. His response was that we need to quit. No more romance. He felt really bad that I was having such a hard time with other's perceptions, but his greatest fear seems to be that she will find out. The "Someone should tell her" scared him. And then he snuggled me during our goodbyes in the parking lot. Very loving. Very tight. Kisses. I tried to deflect him with my purse and parcels between us, but finally I set them down. Sigh. I get mixed signals from him. I know he has feelings for me. I know he loves me in a way, "but not enough, not the way you want me to". I know he wants to be able to love me, but there's something wrong, something in the way.

He almost never tells me he loves me. He says he doesn't want to mislead me. The previous Tuesday he had been here setting up the DVD player, and then Wednesday we had a long and very nice phone conversation, at the end of which he said "Love you." No qualifications included. He said it softly, he breathed it, like he hoped I didn't hear it. I didn't react, just passed it off, because I figured he was used to saying that to her at the end of phone calls, and I figured that he had just slipped, and that it wasn't really meant for me. So on Sunday, in the parking lot, after he had told me we were over, I told him that, that I had heard it but I didn't react because etc. He got a really funny look on his face, and said, "No, it was meant for you. I really did mean it for you." He didn't have to say that. Saying it only made things worse for him.

It only makes things worse.

So.

Somebody should tell her? Who will? Will anyone?

You would have to put hot irons to my feet to get her name and phone number out of me, but, hey! My right foot is numb between the index and middle toes, remember?

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Written later Thursday night, 6/15 -

I wrote the above this afternoon because I knew I'd be seeing him at the Third Thursday Mensa dinner tonight, and I wanted to get my head straight before I saw him. I didn't post it then because I wanted to see if anything had changed since Sunday.

It did.

I had called him on his (brand new) cell phone Monday night, about 10:30 pm. I "knew" two things - he was teaching a class that ended at 9:30 and would probably get home just before 10:30, and secondly that he didn't see her on Mondays (she doesn't allow weekday visits unless she needs him for something). I wanted to ask about his mother.

He answered the phone.

He was with the other woman. At her house, or in a car, I don't know.

She thought that she was the only person who had his cell number. Note that he had told me I could call him any time, even on weekends.

He did a whole bunch of things wrong - this is how I know he's not used to cheating. The poor man doesn't have a clue. I told him tonight that what you're SUPPOSED to do is a) when you're with her, put it on vibrate, or turn it off, and b) if you do screw up and answer, and it's me, say "He's not at this number, you have the wrong number", and then call me back as soon as you can. He said he thought it WAS on vibrate.

Instead, it rang, and he panicked. He said he couldn't hear me, bad connection (it wasn't), so naturally, what did I do? I yelled louder. Which ensured that she heard me. I told him to call me back "later, when you get home". I figured he was on the road, going home from class. Yeah, I said "love you" at the end.

She wanted to know who I was, and why I had his number and was calling so late, and I know him well enough to know exactly what happened. He got the thunder face and shut down, and refused to discuss it. He says she hasn't spoken to him since.

He looked really bad tonight. He is suffering. He doesn't know what to do. He told me it's over with us on Sunday, that he's choosing her, and the very next night ....

He said he was going to have to tell her about me, but he didn't know what to say, or how much. I told him that she probably suspected something was going on before this. And if there is any chance whatsoever that someone else told her or will tell her anything, he damn well better tell the truth. All of it. "You don't know how much she already knows."

I also overstepped again, and told him what I thought of her, that if she loved him, she'd ... blah blah. You don't refuse to speak to someone you love. You don't withhold yourself from someone you love. You want to be with someone you love, you don't push them away all the time. Blah blah. He knows. He said he knows. I know he knows it's all wrong with her, but there's something about her that fascinates him. He looked like he was about to cry when he said "But it was starting to change. It was starting to get better."

He's in even worse denial than I ever was.

The sad thing is that I just want him to be happy. If I thought he could be happy with her, if I thought she loved him, I'd have a lot less difficulty letting him go. But I can't stand the thought of giving him up to a woman who merely likes him, but doesn't fully appreciate him, and who is just keeping him on the string because she knows she can, and he's useful.

We hugged a lot in the parking lot. The last was so tight I thought he'd break me.

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Written Friday evening, 6/16 -

He called to update me on his parent's status. He knows I'm concerned about them. We talked. The other woman has agreed to talk with him on Saturday evening. He will let me know how it goes.

I warned him not to lie, and not to allow her to believe untruths by not correcting wrong impressions. "Every time you allow her to believe something that's not true, you've planted a land mine." I reminded him that she seems to be in total control of their relationship, but HE should be in control of his life.

On the one hand, I want him to be happy. On the other hand, I hope she kicks him out. He keeps hoping that she will make him happy some day, but I don't believe he can be fully himself with her. I told him that one day, maybe in a few years, he will tell me what it is that he finds so fascinating about her. Right now, I don't understand anything.

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Written Saturday, 6/17 -

Long talk with Piper. I wanted to talk with him because he is so perceptive, and he knows a lot of what's been going on, and he knows and likes Roman. I don't need advice - there's nothing I can do - but I just needed to talk with someone.

I told Piper the whole story, all of it. Everything that has happened in the past year.

Piper doesn't understand what's going on with Roman either. He says there's something missing in the guy. Something missing, that makes it difficult for him to decide what he wants. However, in contrast to everyone else who knows, Piper believes that Roman is doing the best he can, and that there is no intent to hurt anyone. He believes that Roman is honest, and does care for me, but - there's something missing, something wrong with him.

Or there's a missing part to the story. Something important that I don't know.

Piper also explained why the kitchen women were so eager to tell me what was going on, but not willing to tell her. Because they KNOW me, I am one of them. They may have met her, but they don't know her. So although they all say "someone should tell her", they don't really care whether she knows or not. That's all.

It can go any one of four ways tonight.

If she takes him back weekends-only, same conditions as before, the price will be that he can have no contact with me, and possibly with Mensa, and it could go on that way forever! He'll still be unhappy. I'll be sad. This is a very bad denouement, but unfortunately the most likely.

If she takes him back and lets him move in with her, well, I almost hope that's what happens, because either it will work and he will be happy, and I can live with that, or it won't work and after a time whatever hold she has on him will dissipate and he'll leave her and turn back to me. Either way is ok. I can handle that. Unless by the time he realizes he's unhappy, her condition (she has PPS) has deteriorated to the point where he can't leave her. This is very bad.

If she throws him out completely, maybe he will turn to me, but I don't know if I should accept him that way, because I'll forever be afraid that she'll crook her finger, and he'll go back to her. This is actually a likely scenario, and it scares me. Because if she does throw him out, and if he does then turn to me, I'll take him in. I'm that big a fool. The kitchen women were right.

The last possibility is that in their discussion tonight, he realizes that she doesn't love him, and he decides he can't live under her rules and conditions, and she doesn't need him as much he thought she did, and he gives her up. This is the least likely to happen, and probably just fanciful thinking on my part, but it is my only hope.

Oh, Piper did offer another hope. She has Post-Polio Syndrome, brace on one leg, fatigue, etc. Piper said that people with PPS don't live long once the later symptoms start to appear. I could just wait, you know.... I gave Piper the fish-eye - I don't want to hope for that, or even think about it. (Actually, that prognosis isn't strictly true. There's no way to predict the course of the illness. She works full time now, as far as I know, and she has a full and active social life, so she can't be too bad. But it's there, and there's no predicting what will happen. Besides, being "post-polio", and having been diagnosed with Post-Polio Syndrome at two very different things.)

I'm sure Roman is aware of it, too. Her future may not be bright. Maybe that's why he can't leave her, and why he's so afraid of hurting her. Maybe that's the fascination. He did say once that there was a moral and ethical reason for his staying with her that overrode his own happiness, although at that time he wouldn't go into what it was, and it was before I knew about the PPS. He really is very loyal. Under all this crap.

So, tonight, two people are talking about me, and in deciding their future, they are deciding mine.
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Sunday evening, 6/18/06

I had dinner this evening with NJ. It was in her kitchen that I was attacked by all those women, and actually, it was NJ that started it. We sat on the patio of a restaurant around the corner from her house, and we talked for four hours. I told her everything. Of course, all she got was my side, and there's so much I don't know.

She didn't make me feel any better, but at least she now understands and sympathizes. She says that she told me about the other woman because she didn't like to see me hurt by Roman. She, and everyone else, thought he was just playing me. Now, after our talk, she thinks that Roman has been sincere, but that there is something more, some part we're missing, and that he's super confused and super messed up. And that there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

I had assumed that the other woman had physical difficulties, but NJ says that the two times Roman had brought her to NJ's apartment (the second floor of a colonial-era house with high ceilings), she'd had no problem with the high steep stairs. That kind of hurt, because her physical dependency on him was one of the excuses I had assigned to him, to explain why he was having so much trouble deciding what to do. In my mind, I have given him so many excuses, and one by one they are falling away.

I had left my cell phone on, but got no calls. I got home about 11 pm, and there were no messages on the home phone. I am going crazy. I can't call him. I have to wait until he's ready to tell me what happened in their talk (and who knows what else) Saturday night, and until then I am sick to my stomach.
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Monday night, 6/19

He said he'd talk with her on Saturday evening. I asked him to call me and tell me how it went as soon as he could. He said he may not have any privacy on Sunday, but he'd call Monday for sure.

He didn't call on Sunday. That could mean she has taken him back and she allowed him to stay with her on Sunday. Or not. I don't know. But he didn't call today, either, and that worries me. He worked today, so I know he had opportunity to call. So either she has made him promise no contact with me, or he's not ready to talk to me yet. He HAS to know what I'm feeling. Sometimes I could hate him.
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Later Monday night, wee hours of Tuesday morning, 6/20

I broke down and called his home, no answers, finally left message(s). I know he's not there. I know he spent Saturday night, and Sunday day and night with her, and he's there tonight. That's why he hasn't called me. I also sent an "up" email about Firefox, and a "down" email telling him that I didn't want to talk to him on the phone, that I wanted him to find a time that we could get together to talk.

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Early afternoon, Tuesday, 6/20

He called. I didn't answer the phone. It didn't sound like he'd gotten any of my messages. He left a message which included that "things were better after their talk Saturday night" (I guess she's at least speaking to him now), but that he still didn't know where it was going. And that he had a class tonight, so he couldn't call tonight (why not?) but that he would call "sometime".

Not fifteen minutes after he hung up, the phone rang again. This time I picked it up just before the tape did. I said Hello, but no one spoke. I could hear breathing. I said Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? And a high-pitched female voice with a sing-song accent said "Is this [Deleted business name]?" She spaced it out exactly like that. I said "Well, yes, I guess so. Why?" And she hung up.

Scared me witless.

So I called Roman's home. He'd just called me, so I thought that's where he'd be, but no answer, so I left a message - Does "she" have an accent, or a friend or coworker with an accent? - And did he ever mention [Deleted] in connection with me?

Then I called his cell, and got him. Same questions, No, and No. We didn't talk much - I didn't want to. I did ask if he was spending tonight with her, and he said no. Nor tomorrow night. I said "So, you're together under the same conditions as before?" and he said "No, not quite." We didn't go into detail. I didn't want to on the phone.

It sounds exactly like my worst prediction.

We are to meet tomorrow at five, in a diner parking lot in Hyde park.

748 Mozilla Firefox

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

After my last post, Herlock Sholmes suggested that I look into SiteAdvisor, so I did. SiteAdvisor requires Firefox. I've got Netscape.

I shrugged, and installed Firefox, and SiteAdvisor.

I am amazed at all that the combination offers, and it's faster than Netscape 7.2! Firefox also imported all my Netscape bookmarks and history, too, so I didn't lose anything. (I haven't checked stored passwords yet....)

I have only one complaint. Because I have such a slow dial-up connection, I'm in the habit of clicking on a link, and while that page is loading, I go back to the original site and continue reading, or to another. I multitask because there's always the next page slowly loading in the background. Also, if I link to a site that looks like it has heavy download time, like for video, fancy design, or sometimes music, I'll just close it before it drags down my whole system. There's nothing out there that's so very important.

Firefox won't let me do that. It often (but not always) insists on staying right on a page until it has finished loading. I can't get the "close" tag on the upper right "X" and can't close a page or move to somewhere else until Firefox thinks it's time. Which time seems a bit arbitrary.

But it's so much faster than Netscape that in this first blush of new love, I'll accept the quirks.

747 Spyware, Site Meter

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

[Later edit - info on site meter view times, at bottom.]

I got a bit of a shock. I was just about to shut down and go to bed, when a window popped up, from the AOL Spyware detection program, saying that it had found a Trojan horse on my system, something called "InfoStealer". Hmmmm. That might explain why the system has been so very slow lately. It takes forever to IPL now - like 20 minutes. I had assumed it was because my hard disk is a mess, and defragmenting no longer works.

AOL offered to "block" the spyware for me, with the warning that if it does so, some functions may no longer work. Ouch!

I Googled "InfoStealer", and there are apparently several versions. One arrives in Yahoo mail (I do have a Yahoo mail account"), and it hijacks your Yahoo account. Big deal. My account is free anyway, so I'm not sure how it hurts. Another version is nastier, I guess. It steals your passwords to sites like PayPal and banking sites. A third has something to do with a Seal online game.

My biggest problem is that all the information I was able to find to remove it assumes that you use Symantec for virus protection. I don't. I used to, but the last time I tried to download a new version, it broke in the middle of the download, and even though the subscription I had paid for said I could download again at any time, it wouldn't let me. So when AOL offered McAfee for free, I had changed over to that.

So I don't know how to remove it, and I'm not sure I trust AOL to do it.

I gave up. I told the AOL spyware detector to go ahead and "block" it. I'm still here, but if I disappear tomorrow, that's why.

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

Second topic, I added a site meter to this blog (you'll find the itty-bitty button at the very bottom). It's interesting where I get hits from. Besides those I know about, there was someone from Australia? Japan?? Romania??? Whoa! And I thought there only six people reading this thing. Well, maybe they're not reading it. Duration of visit is "0.00". "Suicide" is a popular search arg, and I think that's what's doing it.

[Later - I read the Help for SiteMeter, and "duration of visit 0:00" doesn't mean they visited only a few seconds. Since my last 40 or so posts are all on one page, a visitor is not likely to go to another page. SiteMeter counts the time only when a visitor goes to another page. To quote: "If they only look at a single page and then leave, we don't know how long they looked at the page. If they looked at two pages and left we would know they at least were on the site during the time of the first page view and the second page view. The difference between those two times would be the length of the visit." It's screwy. Meaningless to me.]

746 Walking the Rail Trail

We met in the trail parking lot at 6:30 pm. There was Tom, Michael?, Michelle, Angela, Deborah, and me. When I arrived, it was raining, and they were all standing there under umbrellas. We waited until 6:45 for Eve, who was supposed to come but never did, and then we set off down the trail - with umbrellas. Give us credit for determination, if not brains. (Michelle decided not to walk. Her allergies were acting up. She went home.)

Tom said that at three miles per hour we should be able to make it to "the gorge" and back before sunset. The gorge turned out to be a high bridge over a creek, with a wonderful view across farmland to the cliffs and stone tower at Mohonk, with the sun setting over the mountains.

I think we walked a little slower than 3 mph, because 3 mph is a fast walk for my short legs, and I didn't feel rushed at all. An advantage of rail trails is that they are wide and smooth, and you can easily avoid the poison ivy. Also, wild strawberries seem to be endemic to railroad beds. The disadvantage is that they are so straight. You can see the trail going on and on before you. I like a little more variety.

We saw lots of birds, geese and ducks, rabbits, groundhogs, fish in the creek, and a muskrat in a slough beside the trail.

Afterward, Michael? and Tom and I went to Bacchus for drinks (I had iced tea) and nibbles. We sat outside on the deck, and it rained again, but we had a huge table umbrella, and it was nice, watching the people on the street. New Paltz is getting to be a lot like Woodstock was 25 years ago.

I really like Tom. He's a nice guy. He and his girlfriend, AND his ex-wife(!), will be going to the world gathering in Orlando in August, and I am very happy about that. I won't be completely alone. There will be someone there I already know and like, that I can hang out with.

Driving home, again my mind was in overdrive, and again I missed my exit, had to go all the way up and then back down again.

When I got home about 10:30 pm, there was a message on my machine. It was from Daughter, which was nice. There was no message from the one I had hoped would call.

My stomach hurts again. But I used the word "nice" a lot up there. I'm trying.