Friday, March 16, 2007
Wednesday, it was 75 F in Poughkeepsie. Today it's 23 F, and snowing.
FirstWoman and I were supposed to go to Saugerstock this evening for Monica's Kneepads. I called her late afternoon to tell her I already had six inches of snow in the driveway, and I wasn't going anywhere. She called an hour later to say that her car was stuck in her driveway - so I don't feel so guilty about canceling out on her again.
I went to a nursing home in Kingston this morning as part of a "swat team" to help with a St. Patrick's Day parade. The nursing home was surprisingly large. I was dispatched with balloons for the nursing stations, and couldn't find my way back to the commons.
The place was VERY decorated. The parade included "floats", shopping carts decorated by various residents' clubs. (I was amused that the shopping cart handles bore the names of various grocery stores.) The parade had a bagpipe corps, and close to 100 residents in wheelchairs, all of whom were pushed by volunteers or off-duty employees. The chairs and the people were also decorated. I saw some amusing hats. All the residents who weren't in the parade lined the halls, and the parade "followed the right wall" through the entire building.
I pushed the choral group's float.
I didn't see any residents who were not either in a wheelchair or using a walker. The resident in front of me in the parade, a frail-looking lady, was using a walker, and I was amazed that she walked so far so easily.
It had started snowing before I left there at noon.
I went to Barnes & Noble and bought a Vista for dummies-type book, and looked in Pier 1 for ideas for an anniversary gift for a friend, and by the time I got back to my street, I had a hard time getting up the hill. Almost didn't make it up the driveway - had to keep two wheels on the grass.
I had no gas for the snowthrower, and had planned to go buy some mid-afternoon, before the snow started (yeah, sure). The minivan had so much trouble getting up the hill, I was sure the Aerio wouldn't make it at all, being so much lighter, but by the time I had put warmer clothes and boots on, the snow was too deep for the van (only 4" clearance because it's a dropped-floor handicap van), and I was forced to take the Aerio.
I was very pleasantly surprised. Suzy had absolutely no trouble making it up the hill in five inches of snow, and no trouble with the driveway. It was like she didn't even notice. Good Girl!
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Friday, March 16, 2007
Thursday, March 15, 2007
1165 Thursday
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Busy day. Ran some errands in the morning, then to the museum where I spent the afternoon processing membership renewals (a job that really should be done by someone who gets PAID for it!) Back home, washed hair and changed clothes, then to Poughkeepsie for Third Thursday dinner.
After dinner, Roman and I and my new laptop went to Barnes & Noble (they have WiFi in the cafe), where Roman helped me with some questions I had about the laptop. He presented me with my very own fire engine red mini-mouse. They had to chase us out when they closed.
.
Busy day. Ran some errands in the morning, then to the museum where I spent the afternoon processing membership renewals (a job that really should be done by someone who gets PAID for it!) Back home, washed hair and changed clothes, then to Poughkeepsie for Third Thursday dinner.
After dinner, Roman and I and my new laptop went to Barnes & Noble (they have WiFi in the cafe), where Roman helped me with some questions I had about the laptop. He presented me with my very own fire engine red mini-mouse. They had to chase us out when they closed.
.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
1164 Dancing Fool
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Ballroom dance class this evening. I'm so frustrated by the whole topic.
I have never learned to dance, not really. Our parents never made any effort toward socializing us, and I went to a tiny high school in the middle of nowhere. We never had any dances, other than the prom, and everybody lived too far apart to just hang out and dance. We'd go to Manny's, occasionally, where there was a jukebox, but mostly we just sat around and listened to the music. Farm/mountain boys don't dance a lot. At the Russian hall we did folk dances and polkas.
In college there were weekly dances at the Husky Lounge, but I wasn't dating, and so I didn't dance much. The Twist was easy, and the Madison, and a few other mass dances. With my left/right learning disability, it was impossible for me to simply watch people and then do what they do. Still is.
I met Ex#1 at a college dance, but I don't think we ever actually danced. He was drafted during my senior year, we were married a few days after I graduated, he went to Germany and I went to a teaching job in Gettysburg, and for the next three years we were together only when he was on leave, and we never danced.
Between Ex#1 and Ex#2 I dated Amadeo. Amadeo was a dancer. The Cha Cha and Mambo were big. Also, Amadeo was short, just my size. He was a strong lead, and I learned with him. I was confident on the dance floor for the first time ever. We cleared the floor once in a club in New Haven, doing a combination Swing/Cha Cha. People cheered and clapped, and the band kept playing until we quit ourselves. I think back on that now, and can hardly believe it happened.
Then I married Ex#2. He didn't dance. Period.
In my 30s I took up Mid-Eastern dance, on the advice of my chiropractor, to help strengthen my back. That's when I learned something I didn't know - I not only have no sense of rhythm, I can't hear the beat! In Mid-Eastern dance, there are only a few common rhythms, and they are quite different. But even after 30 years and thousands of hours of listening and dancing, I still can't tell them apart. Well, I usually recognize a beladi (dum dum tek-a-tek dum tek-a-tek tek-a), but sometimes I confuse it with saidi (dum tek tek-a-dum dum tek-a-tek tek-a). The only one I consistently recognize is the ayub, or zar, which has a unique bouncing sound (dum, ka dum tek), but half the time I can't remember what it's called.
I was good, back when I was slender and muscular, and could do the floorwork. Not so good with the fast stuff, I could easily get off the beat, but with the slow, I hear I was the epitome of sensual. (Kashalamar was my rhythm. Too bad I didn't recognize it half the time.) I stopped dancing shortly after moving from Washington to here, in 1983, and didn't get back to it until 2005ish.
Jay was a competitive ballroom dancer, with trophies and everything, before he moved from Texas to here. When we were dating, we tried dancing once - a polka - and it was such a disaster we never danced again. He didn't seem to miss it. Without a club here, it just didn't come up, I guess. Maybe the Asperger's?
So here I am. Until New Year's Eve, I hadn't danced, "out", in public, in more than 20 years, and now I want to. I am extremely shy about dancing. I always feel so clumsy. I don't know what to do. I watch kids now, and I can't figure out what they're doing. It looks like they're just jumping up and down, and I can't (won't!) do that.
On New Year's Eve, I did my own thing, and several women told me that I move beautifully. I have graceful arms, and lots of smooth hip action, but my feet kind of get lost. In the ballroom dance class, several women said that I look so graceful, "you float". Complete strangers. I got an email from someone who had been at the dance at the Mensa gathering - I didn't go to the dance floor, but I did move to the music standing next to the table - and he said, "Please don't take this the wrong way, and I hope it doesn't come across as inappropriate, but you are one amazing dancer. I couldn't keep my eyes off you when you were moving to the music. I love to dance, but don't know many women who enjoy it. At our age, a lot of them have settled into a boring life and don't like doing anything physically exerting."
Wow. I'm impressed with me! (The "at our age" was a bonus. I think he's in his mid-forties.)
So, there's some possibility there. I've got something I should be able to work with.
The ballroom dance class was supposed to give me some "ah, so this is what you do with your feet", which can be modified to fit what's actually going on.
'Tain't working. It's destroying what little confidence I'd acquired over the past few months.
First off, I can't "hear" the beat. I can't tell a waltz from a rumba. I can't figure out how fast or slow you're supposed to go. It all sounds the same to me. I can't make my feet do what they're supposed to do. It's all a mixed up mish-mash. I can't even maintain an ordinary vanilla box step.
Maybe it would help if I had a strong partner. There is one guy in the class who came with his wife, but she broke her arm and is sitting out, so he has decided he's MY partner, and he's awful. He doesn't telegraph at all, and just changes direction suddenly, tromping all over me. Worse than no partner at all. Which is the alternative....
I don't know whether to keep going or not. I was just starting to feel hopeful and courageous about getting out on a dance floor, and this class is chewing away at that.
.
Ballroom dance class this evening. I'm so frustrated by the whole topic.
I have never learned to dance, not really. Our parents never made any effort toward socializing us, and I went to a tiny high school in the middle of nowhere. We never had any dances, other than the prom, and everybody lived too far apart to just hang out and dance. We'd go to Manny's, occasionally, where there was a jukebox, but mostly we just sat around and listened to the music. Farm/mountain boys don't dance a lot. At the Russian hall we did folk dances and polkas.
In college there were weekly dances at the Husky Lounge, but I wasn't dating, and so I didn't dance much. The Twist was easy, and the Madison, and a few other mass dances. With my left/right learning disability, it was impossible for me to simply watch people and then do what they do. Still is.
I met Ex#1 at a college dance, but I don't think we ever actually danced. He was drafted during my senior year, we were married a few days after I graduated, he went to Germany and I went to a teaching job in Gettysburg, and for the next three years we were together only when he was on leave, and we never danced.
Between Ex#1 and Ex#2 I dated Amadeo. Amadeo was a dancer. The Cha Cha and Mambo were big. Also, Amadeo was short, just my size. He was a strong lead, and I learned with him. I was confident on the dance floor for the first time ever. We cleared the floor once in a club in New Haven, doing a combination Swing/Cha Cha. People cheered and clapped, and the band kept playing until we quit ourselves. I think back on that now, and can hardly believe it happened.
Then I married Ex#2. He didn't dance. Period.
In my 30s I took up Mid-Eastern dance, on the advice of my chiropractor, to help strengthen my back. That's when I learned something I didn't know - I not only have no sense of rhythm, I can't hear the beat! In Mid-Eastern dance, there are only a few common rhythms, and they are quite different. But even after 30 years and thousands of hours of listening and dancing, I still can't tell them apart. Well, I usually recognize a beladi (dum dum tek-a-tek dum tek-a-tek tek-a), but sometimes I confuse it with saidi (dum tek tek-a-dum dum tek-a-tek tek-a). The only one I consistently recognize is the ayub, or zar, which has a unique bouncing sound (dum, ka dum tek), but half the time I can't remember what it's called.
I was good, back when I was slender and muscular, and could do the floorwork. Not so good with the fast stuff, I could easily get off the beat, but with the slow, I hear I was the epitome of sensual. (Kashalamar was my rhythm. Too bad I didn't recognize it half the time.) I stopped dancing shortly after moving from Washington to here, in 1983, and didn't get back to it until 2005ish.
Jay was a competitive ballroom dancer, with trophies and everything, before he moved from Texas to here. When we were dating, we tried dancing once - a polka - and it was such a disaster we never danced again. He didn't seem to miss it. Without a club here, it just didn't come up, I guess. Maybe the Asperger's?
So here I am. Until New Year's Eve, I hadn't danced, "out", in public, in more than 20 years, and now I want to. I am extremely shy about dancing. I always feel so clumsy. I don't know what to do. I watch kids now, and I can't figure out what they're doing. It looks like they're just jumping up and down, and I can't (won't!) do that.
On New Year's Eve, I did my own thing, and several women told me that I move beautifully. I have graceful arms, and lots of smooth hip action, but my feet kind of get lost. In the ballroom dance class, several women said that I look so graceful, "you float". Complete strangers. I got an email from someone who had been at the dance at the Mensa gathering - I didn't go to the dance floor, but I did move to the music standing next to the table - and he said, "Please don't take this the wrong way, and I hope it doesn't come across as inappropriate, but you are one amazing dancer. I couldn't keep my eyes off you when you were moving to the music. I love to dance, but don't know many women who enjoy it. At our age, a lot of them have settled into a boring life and don't like doing anything physically exerting."
Wow. I'm impressed with me! (The "at our age" was a bonus. I think he's in his mid-forties.)
So, there's some possibility there. I've got something I should be able to work with.
The ballroom dance class was supposed to give me some "ah, so this is what you do with your feet", which can be modified to fit what's actually going on.
'Tain't working. It's destroying what little confidence I'd acquired over the past few months.
First off, I can't "hear" the beat. I can't tell a waltz from a rumba. I can't figure out how fast or slow you're supposed to go. It all sounds the same to me. I can't make my feet do what they're supposed to do. It's all a mixed up mish-mash. I can't even maintain an ordinary vanilla box step.
Maybe it would help if I had a strong partner. There is one guy in the class who came with his wife, but she broke her arm and is sitting out, so he has decided he's MY partner, and he's awful. He doesn't telegraph at all, and just changes direction suddenly, tromping all over me. Worse than no partner at all. Which is the alternative....
I don't know whether to keep going or not. I was just starting to feel hopeful and courageous about getting out on a dance floor, and this class is chewing away at that.
.
1162 Validation
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Dr. Phil said something on his show the other day that stopped me cold. He just threw it out as a casual comment, and it's one of those things that "everyone knows", but until you hear someone say it, make it "real", it's just passed off.
He was talking to a husband who had hurt his wife's feelings somehow. The husband wished she'd just "get over it". (I think - I wasn't watching, just caught it in passing.) Anyway, Dr. Phil said something like "She will never get over this until she knows you fully understand what this did to her."
My head went ka-boing.
I have often been accused (by men, mainly) of not "letting it go". I do tend to hang on to some hurts and chew them over and over. Other hurts I do let go of. What's the difference? Yes, it does come down to whether or not I believe the other person fully understands the impact of their actions. If they understand, I can let it go. They don't even have to apologize - just understand how it affected me. Until they do understand, I do keep coming back to it, and a lot of men will refuse to look at it. They'll say "It's in the past", or "Don't go there", but it's not in the past. The effect is still with me! I want you to understand how I felt!
Your not wanting to understand makes me feel like you don't care.
That's probably why my sister and I are both still hung up on what our parents did to us (Sister more than I, actually). They are both dead now, but neither our mother nor our father ever recognized how their emotional and physical battering destroyed us kids. Sister and I have managed to salvage our self-respect, but both brothers have serious problems, and youngest sister drank herself to death. Sister and I can't "let go", because our parents never understood that they hurt us. And now they never will.
It's also why I still carry so much resentment toward Ex#2. He never understood my feelings about the crap he did, and didn't want to. There's no point in talking with him about any of it, because he still won't care how I feel. It's too threatening to him. So I carry around the resentment.
Ok. Now is there any way to drop it? I was able to release a lot of anger toward my parents by thinking, "Ok, they were sick. They didn't refuse to see, they were completely incapable of seeing." That won't work with Ex#2 because I know that although he does have some emotional problems, he IS capable of seeing. There were occasional glimpses of understanding. He's going to be a bit harder to let go of.
.
Dr. Phil said something on his show the other day that stopped me cold. He just threw it out as a casual comment, and it's one of those things that "everyone knows", but until you hear someone say it, make it "real", it's just passed off.
He was talking to a husband who had hurt his wife's feelings somehow. The husband wished she'd just "get over it". (I think - I wasn't watching, just caught it in passing.) Anyway, Dr. Phil said something like "She will never get over this until she knows you fully understand what this did to her."
My head went ka-boing.
I have often been accused (by men, mainly) of not "letting it go". I do tend to hang on to some hurts and chew them over and over. Other hurts I do let go of. What's the difference? Yes, it does come down to whether or not I believe the other person fully understands the impact of their actions. If they understand, I can let it go. They don't even have to apologize - just understand how it affected me. Until they do understand, I do keep coming back to it, and a lot of men will refuse to look at it. They'll say "It's in the past", or "Don't go there", but it's not in the past. The effect is still with me! I want you to understand how I felt!
Your not wanting to understand makes me feel like you don't care.
That's probably why my sister and I are both still hung up on what our parents did to us (Sister more than I, actually). They are both dead now, but neither our mother nor our father ever recognized how their emotional and physical battering destroyed us kids. Sister and I have managed to salvage our self-respect, but both brothers have serious problems, and youngest sister drank herself to death. Sister and I can't "let go", because our parents never understood that they hurt us. And now they never will.
It's also why I still carry so much resentment toward Ex#2. He never understood my feelings about the crap he did, and didn't want to. There's no point in talking with him about any of it, because he still won't care how I feel. It's too threatening to him. So I carry around the resentment.
Ok. Now is there any way to drop it? I was able to release a lot of anger toward my parents by thinking, "Ok, they were sick. They didn't refuse to see, they were completely incapable of seeing." That won't work with Ex#2 because I know that although he does have some emotional problems, he IS capable of seeing. There were occasional glimpses of understanding. He's going to be a bit harder to let go of.
.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
1161 WiFi in the Wilderness!
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
I'm sitting in the pizza parlor in the village writing this. Guess what? We've got WiFi in the village! Free and unlimited. Also unsafe, but ok, I can cope with that.
I stopped in to see Piper today. I was on my way to the museum when I saw his car parked in front of his office, and he's not supposed to be driving with his broken foot, so I was concerned.
Yeah, he's driving. Bad boy. But there are complications - his lady has just been diagnosed with breast cancer, will have surgery next week, I think. So I guess he thinks he has to take a load off her by getting himself around. I pointed out that she's going to need him long term, and that means he can't mess up his foot any more than it is. Can't delay healing, so no messing with it.
I pulled out the laptop to show it to him, and that's when I found out I could get a connection. So I was there most of the afternoon. Piper had to visit a customer across the street, so I was able to "pay for my keep" by answering phones and taking messages.
I intended to go to the museum today and handle the membership stuff, but got sidetracked by the sight of Piper's car. I guess that's the top "to do" for tomorrow.
------------------------------------
Later.
I got a small pizza with sausage, onion, and green pepper and brought it home. It's huge! I wonder if she gave me a medium by mistake. I've eaten 1/4 of it, two slices, and now I don't know what to do with the rest. I wonder if wild turkeys like pizza.
Something strange since Jay died. I never much cared for sugary desserts, especially things like chocolate cake. Chocolate cake, brownies, stuff like that, feel like they gum up my mouth. I don't like the heavy taste. Jay loved anything heavily chocolate, the gummier the better. I've also never much cared for Italian food in general (with the exception of warmed-over day-old leftover homemade spaghetti), and I didn't care for pizza in particular.
Jay had to have pizza once a week at least, or he suffered withdrawal. I usually ate a salad while I watched him scarf pizza.
Since he died, I have periodic strange cravings for chocolate cake, and for pizza, about twice or thrice a year. It'll start one day, and over three or four days it'll grow to where I can't think about anything else. So I have to go get some (cake or pizza). The strangest part is that I don't even enjoy it (well, sometimes maybe the cake), but I know I have to eat it or I will have no peace.
So that's why I don't know what to do with the leftover pizza. I won't want pizza again for three to six months, so there's no point in putting it in the refrigerator. I don't like pizza! (Next time I'll know better - the village pizza parlor now serves individual slices.)
I'm sitting in the pizza parlor in the village writing this. Guess what? We've got WiFi in the village! Free and unlimited. Also unsafe, but ok, I can cope with that.
I stopped in to see Piper today. I was on my way to the museum when I saw his car parked in front of his office, and he's not supposed to be driving with his broken foot, so I was concerned.
Yeah, he's driving. Bad boy. But there are complications - his lady has just been diagnosed with breast cancer, will have surgery next week, I think. So I guess he thinks he has to take a load off her by getting himself around. I pointed out that she's going to need him long term, and that means he can't mess up his foot any more than it is. Can't delay healing, so no messing with it.
I pulled out the laptop to show it to him, and that's when I found out I could get a connection. So I was there most of the afternoon. Piper had to visit a customer across the street, so I was able to "pay for my keep" by answering phones and taking messages.
I intended to go to the museum today and handle the membership stuff, but got sidetracked by the sight of Piper's car. I guess that's the top "to do" for tomorrow.
------------------------------------
Later.
I got a small pizza with sausage, onion, and green pepper and brought it home. It's huge! I wonder if she gave me a medium by mistake. I've eaten 1/4 of it, two slices, and now I don't know what to do with the rest. I wonder if wild turkeys like pizza.
Something strange since Jay died. I never much cared for sugary desserts, especially things like chocolate cake. Chocolate cake, brownies, stuff like that, feel like they gum up my mouth. I don't like the heavy taste. Jay loved anything heavily chocolate, the gummier the better. I've also never much cared for Italian food in general (with the exception of warmed-over day-old leftover homemade spaghetti), and I didn't care for pizza in particular.
Jay had to have pizza once a week at least, or he suffered withdrawal. I usually ate a salad while I watched him scarf pizza.
Since he died, I have periodic strange cravings for chocolate cake, and for pizza, about twice or thrice a year. It'll start one day, and over three or four days it'll grow to where I can't think about anything else. So I have to go get some (cake or pizza). The strangest part is that I don't even enjoy it (well, sometimes maybe the cake), but I know I have to eat it or I will have no peace.
So that's why I don't know what to do with the leftover pizza. I won't want pizza again for three to six months, so there's no point in putting it in the refrigerator. I don't like pizza! (Next time I'll know better - the village pizza parlor now serves individual slices.)
1160 It's Ageless
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
RussoRaven has posted a poem that really hits home. I'd love to post it here because it's so perfect for my own situation, but it's hers, so go read it, please. She said it so beautifully. Perfectly.
My "he" doesn't have the answers. Sometimes people just don't know why.
.
RussoRaven has posted a poem that really hits home. I'd love to post it here because it's so perfect for my own situation, but it's hers, so go read it, please. She said it so beautifully. Perfectly.
My "he" doesn't have the answers. Sometimes people just don't know why.
.
Monday, March 12, 2007
1159 Lost Day
Monday, March 12, 2007
Spent the entire day emailing file attachments to myself and setting up new folders on the laptop, in between restarting the Earthlink connection, that is.... It drops about every half hour.
Temp outside hit a high of 54, and the yard was full of turkeys. I sprinkled sunflower seeds for them.
.
Spent the entire day emailing file attachments to myself and setting up new folders on the laptop, in between restarting the Earthlink connection, that is.... It drops about every half hour.
Temp outside hit a high of 54, and the yard was full of turkeys. I sprinkled sunflower seeds for them.
.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
1158 Retest!
Having trouble getting used to the touchpad. I keep picking up the tv remote and running it over the desk, wondering why the cursor isn't moving....
1157 Yahoo Mail Explained
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Ok. Lots of other bloggers are having trouble with getting to their Yahoo mail. It's Yahoo's problem, not mine. Seems to be resolved now.
.
Ok. Lots of other bloggers are having trouble with getting to their Yahoo mail. It's Yahoo's problem, not mine. Seems to be resolved now.
.
1156 Death to Earthlink!
Sunday, March 11, 2007
I wrote the previous entry last night, but wasn't able to post it because either Blogger was down, or Earthlink refused to communicate with Blogger. Spellcheck not working was the first clue.
Earthlink has me tearing my hair out. I dialed in this afternoon at 1:19. So far, it has dropped the connection at 3:10, 3:28, 4:51, and 6:15. (It is now 6:34 pm). Mother is not happy.
For some reason, I can get to Yahoo.com, and it says I have five new items in my in-box, but I can't get to Yahoo mail. I tried three different browsers, and they all give me some blather about the page not supporting http protocols.
**** Ok, I just tried it, to get the exact text of the message, and this time it worked. Sigh.
I don't understand.
Um, is my keyboard supposed to be hot? It's quite warm on the right, over where I presume the battery is. I'm plugged in, not actually using the battery....
.
I wrote the previous entry last night, but wasn't able to post it because either Blogger was down, or Earthlink refused to communicate with Blogger. Spellcheck not working was the first clue.
Earthlink has me tearing my hair out. I dialed in this afternoon at 1:19. So far, it has dropped the connection at 3:10, 3:28, 4:51, and 6:15. (It is now 6:34 pm). Mother is not happy.
For some reason, I can get to Yahoo.com, and it says I have five new items in my in-box, but I can't get to Yahoo mail. I tried three different browsers, and they all give me some blather about the page not supporting http protocols.
**** Ok, I just tried it, to get the exact text of the message, and this time it worked. Sigh.
I don't understand.
Um, is my keyboard supposed to be hot? It's quite warm on the right, over where I presume the battery is. I'm plugged in, not actually using the battery....
.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
1155 Laptop Laments
Saturday, March 11, 2007
I like the touchpad, but I don't like the keyboard at all, especially the space bar, which requires pressing it below the level of the surround, which is already starting a callus on the side of my right thumb.
There's a potential problem with the touchpad - my nails grow very long very quickly, and the touchpad insists on skin, not nails. Either I'm going to have to trim my nails more often, or learn to arch my fingers funny.
After several days of no statistics, I gave up on SiteMeter, and just started a new account. The new one seems to be working, but oddly, it doesn't record my visits, even though I didn't turn that option off yet. Very strange.
I installed IrfanView. I don't know who's responsible, Internet Explorer or Windows Vista, but somebody wants to protect me too zealously, and I had to try three different sites before I was allowed to download the code. Annoying.
FireFox is next, later tonight. I can hardly wait.
Six free months of Earthlink (I'm still dialup, unfortunately) came with the system, so I planned to use that until I figured out what I want to move up to. The desktop has BiznessOnline, and I always thought that was slow and unreliable, but Earthlink seems much slower, and more unreliable. BiznessOnline drops the connection a few times a week. Earthlink drops it a few times an evening!
On the happier side, the browsers are solid, flash ads and fancy animation are no longer killing me. I haven't been able to do a search on eBay without hanging in almost two years. I can't wait to try it again.
Oops. Just tried Spellcheck, and got no response to clicking the button. Something's off.
.
I like the touchpad, but I don't like the keyboard at all, especially the space bar, which requires pressing it below the level of the surround, which is already starting a callus on the side of my right thumb.
There's a potential problem with the touchpad - my nails grow very long very quickly, and the touchpad insists on skin, not nails. Either I'm going to have to trim my nails more often, or learn to arch my fingers funny.
After several days of no statistics, I gave up on SiteMeter, and just started a new account. The new one seems to be working, but oddly, it doesn't record my visits, even though I didn't turn that option off yet. Very strange.
I installed IrfanView. I don't know who's responsible, Internet Explorer or Windows Vista, but somebody wants to protect me too zealously, and I had to try three different sites before I was allowed to download the code. Annoying.
FireFox is next, later tonight. I can hardly wait.
Six free months of Earthlink (I'm still dialup, unfortunately) came with the system, so I planned to use that until I figured out what I want to move up to. The desktop has BiznessOnline, and I always thought that was slow and unreliable, but Earthlink seems much slower, and more unreliable. BiznessOnline drops the connection a few times a week. Earthlink drops it a few times an evening!
On the happier side, the browsers are solid, flash ads and fancy animation are no longer killing me. I haven't been able to do a search on eBay without hanging in almost two years. I can't wait to try it again.
Oops. Just tried Spellcheck, and got no response to clicking the button. Something's off.
.
Friday, March 09, 2007
1154 Experts
Friday, March 9, 2007
Chris, over there at "Inane thoughts and insane ramblings", wrote about how "once a person deems themselves to have become an 'expert', he/she often assumes a position of arrogance", and what this sometimes (often!) leads to when it's in an online group.
Oh, my goodness yes! I've seen it. I haven't often been the recipient of flaming (although if I had written what I was actually thinking I might have been) because I usually lurk in new neighborhoods for a long time, finding out what the "rules" are, and who rules the roost, before I raise my head out of the foxhole. In most cases, once I get the lay of the land, I sneak out under cover of darkness and tiptoe away. It's a minefield out there.
In the past I have dropped in on online support groups and forums. There was a brain tumor forum, a long-term in-home caregiver forum, an Alzheimer's forum (when we were facing Jay's father's dementia), and a few bellydance forums, among others. In EVERY case, there was ONE person who seemed to be considered the doyen, the person who had all the answers, and who seemed to be constantly online. The expert.
They don't say "In my experience...", or "My opinion is...". It's always "This is so. Period." No, I'm not saying they have to qualify everything. You get it from the way they say it, they way they don't allow questioning or difference of opinion.
What's really weird is the way they acquire a following, sycophants, who worship the "expert", and will blister anyone who dares to contradict or question him or her.
When there's something I need to know about, I get into the research in a BIG way. A few days later, when I raise my head, I sometimes know more theory than professionals who have been in the field for years, because they know what they know, in the direction they're heading, but I now know what forty of their peers know, in multiple directions. And then I'm ready to talk with people with actual experience, to glean more, to ask about the conflicts and inconsistencies and holes and how it works "in the trenches" with real people, who are the real experts. Which is what got me to the forums.
Big mistake.
The Alzheimer's forum I visited was populated mostly by people who were lost and desperate for guidance. There was one woman who was obviously "The Expert", who doled out advice on everything. She was online 18 hours a day. She was often wrong. But woe be to any newcomer who questioned her pronouncements, "... but the doctor said...". The vicious wrath of her sycophants would descend. They'd point out her enormous experience in this area, her selfless willingness to be helpful.
No one was allowed to insult her by questioning her experience. She claimed to be the sole caregiver for her husband, who was in an advanced stage, with combativeness and wandering and incontinence - so howcum her sycophants didn't question her constant presence online? Especially when they themselves were doing the same thing for a loved one, and they could manage only a few minutes a day online? Is her husband tied to a chair all day?
I couldn't resist. I did question it. I retreated with my tail on fire.
I felt so sorry for those people who really did need expert help. Instead they got the pronouncement of some woman who just wanted to be the doyen, and got it simply by being the loudest and most constant voice. I suspect the Alzheimer's doyen had little or no direct experience with Alzheimer's, but was able to take over the forum simply by being able to be there full time. When you have an answer for every question, there are people out there who will think you're so wonderfully helpful, even though half your answers are bull poopy.
Chris commented on the arrogance of the "expert". I am amazed at the blind devotion of the sycophants.
I've noticed a similar phenomenon with "personal" bloggers whose life is a self-generated disaster. They attract a coterie of admirers who praise and flatter, believe the wildest stories and excuses, and will viciously attack any commenter who asks "Um, have you considered losing weight / getting a job / less partying more studying?" (Yeah, I admit I'm attracted to blogs that look like slow-motion train wrecks, but I don't praise the engineer.)
I don't understand.
(By the way, if you read Chis's piece, you'll notice a difference in our styles. He tends to be philosophical and objective. He's outside looking in. I get down dirty and personal. I'm inside fighting out.)
.
Chris, over there at "Inane thoughts and insane ramblings", wrote about how "once a person deems themselves to have become an 'expert', he/she often assumes a position of arrogance", and what this sometimes (often!) leads to when it's in an online group.
Oh, my goodness yes! I've seen it. I haven't often been the recipient of flaming (although if I had written what I was actually thinking I might have been) because I usually lurk in new neighborhoods for a long time, finding out what the "rules" are, and who rules the roost, before I raise my head out of the foxhole. In most cases, once I get the lay of the land, I sneak out under cover of darkness and tiptoe away. It's a minefield out there.
In the past I have dropped in on online support groups and forums. There was a brain tumor forum, a long-term in-home caregiver forum, an Alzheimer's forum (when we were facing Jay's father's dementia), and a few bellydance forums, among others. In EVERY case, there was ONE person who seemed to be considered the doyen, the person who had all the answers, and who seemed to be constantly online. The expert.
They don't say "In my experience...", or "My opinion is...". It's always "This is so. Period." No, I'm not saying they have to qualify everything. You get it from the way they say it, they way they don't allow questioning or difference of opinion.
What's really weird is the way they acquire a following, sycophants, who worship the "expert", and will blister anyone who dares to contradict or question him or her.
When there's something I need to know about, I get into the research in a BIG way. A few days later, when I raise my head, I sometimes know more theory than professionals who have been in the field for years, because they know what they know, in the direction they're heading, but I now know what forty of their peers know, in multiple directions. And then I'm ready to talk with people with actual experience, to glean more, to ask about the conflicts and inconsistencies and holes and how it works "in the trenches" with real people, who are the real experts. Which is what got me to the forums.
Big mistake.
The Alzheimer's forum I visited was populated mostly by people who were lost and desperate for guidance. There was one woman who was obviously "The Expert", who doled out advice on everything. She was online 18 hours a day. She was often wrong. But woe be to any newcomer who questioned her pronouncements, "... but the doctor said...". The vicious wrath of her sycophants would descend. They'd point out her enormous experience in this area, her selfless willingness to be helpful.
No one was allowed to insult her by questioning her experience. She claimed to be the sole caregiver for her husband, who was in an advanced stage, with combativeness and wandering and incontinence - so howcum her sycophants didn't question her constant presence online? Especially when they themselves were doing the same thing for a loved one, and they could manage only a few minutes a day online? Is her husband tied to a chair all day?
I couldn't resist. I did question it. I retreated with my tail on fire.
I felt so sorry for those people who really did need expert help. Instead they got the pronouncement of some woman who just wanted to be the doyen, and got it simply by being the loudest and most constant voice. I suspect the Alzheimer's doyen had little or no direct experience with Alzheimer's, but was able to take over the forum simply by being able to be there full time. When you have an answer for every question, there are people out there who will think you're so wonderfully helpful, even though half your answers are bull poopy.
Chris commented on the arrogance of the "expert". I am amazed at the blind devotion of the sycophants.
I've noticed a similar phenomenon with "personal" bloggers whose life is a self-generated disaster. They attract a coterie of admirers who praise and flatter, believe the wildest stories and excuses, and will viciously attack any commenter who asks "Um, have you considered losing weight / getting a job / less partying more studying?" (Yeah, I admit I'm attracted to blogs that look like slow-motion train wrecks, but I don't praise the engineer.)
I don't understand.
(By the way, if you read Chis's piece, you'll notice a difference in our styles. He tends to be philosophical and objective. He's outside looking in. I get down dirty and personal. I'm inside fighting out.)
.
1153 Cons3rvative Response to Wikipedia
Friday, March 9, 2007
[I've replaced some "e"s with "3"s again, to slow down random cons3rvative searchers.]
There's a blogger living a few miles from here who has found an interesting website, http://www.cons3rvapedia.com/Main_Page. It's a "cons3ervative alternative" to Wikipedia. His observations are at http://as3cular.com/index.php?070306.
Go read what he has to say about its founder, purpose, and worth. (His blog is safe. I can't, however, vouch for Cons3rvapedia, although I doubt you'd pick up any actual viruses there.).
[I've replaced some "e"s with "3"s again, to slow down random cons3rvative searchers.]
There's a blogger living a few miles from here who has found an interesting website, http://www.cons3rvapedia.com/Main_Page. It's a "cons3ervative alternative" to Wikipedia. His observations are at http://as3cular.com/index.php?070306.
Go read what he has to say about its founder, purpose, and worth. (His blog is safe. I can't, however, vouch for Cons3rvapedia, although I doubt you'd pick up any actual viruses there.).
1152 Bits
Friday, March 9, 2007
SiteMeter isn't working for me any more. It hasn't recorded any visits since 6 am Wednesday. I tested it by visiting the blog myself through Firefox and AOL, both of which will show up in the hit list, but no show even for those visits. I'm getting no updates at all. I logged in and out, checked the settings and account, everything I could think of, and it all looks good. Anyone else having any problem?
------------------------------------------
I ran errands yesterday, seven different stops, got a lot done. One of the stops was to the fuel oil bookkeeper. I prepay for my winter's fuel oil, which gets me a discounted price per gallon. I noticed that the previous delivery ticket said my credit balance after delivery was $416.74. Last week's delivery ticket said my starting credit was $173.51. Um, where'd the other $243.23 go?
They took the payment for my annual service contract out of my fuel oil credit. One of my stops earlier was to mail the check for the service contract, so she gave me credit for the double payment.
It annoys me that they debited my account for the service plan, without my permission. They've almost doubled the price since last year (but they cover more parts under the new plan), so there's another furnace service outfit that has been offering to take over service for less. I might have decided to switch to them. If I hadn't been vigilant, I could have been out the 200+ for a plan I didn't need, wouldn't have used, and didn't even know I had.
---------------------------------
I'm doing laundry today, and for the first time I'm grateful for my silty hard well water. With Daughter and Hercules looking for a house, I've been doing some research on communities in central NJ, and found something weird. Several communities have so much chlorine in the water that it's undrinkable unless it's left standing a while, and it bleaches laundry! Many people on town forums have complained about whole loads of dark clothes ruined.
Daughter is looking forward to having a washer down the hall, instead of having to go to the next block. I wonder how she'd feel about having to take dark loads to the next town!
----------------------------------
I read a bunch of stuff about the laptop yesterday, and I'm finding my way around it. It's getting easier.
I love the touch pad! You swoop the cursor around by sweeping your finger over the pad. The left and right mouse buttons are below it. Roman doesn't like it - he uses a wireless mouse at home and a minimouse (would that be a vole?) on the road.
One problem I had at first was that every once in a while, the system took off on its own, like I had clicked the left button or something. Roman laughed, he says that if you just tap the pad, that's a left click, and I must be accidentally tapping it, so he told me how to turn that off so you just use the buttons. But I'm having trouble dragging stuff because you have to hold the left button down with your thumb while moving the cursor on the pad with the other fingers. It's not too hard to drag up and down, but left to right is awkward.
In my reading last night I discovered that we've got "tap drag", too. If you tap the pad twice, it "grabs" whatever you're pointing at, and then you can swoop things around easily. Cool. So I turned tap back on. I like it! Scrolling is nifty, too. You just run your finger along the right side or bottom of the pad, and the page scrolls.
I don't know how on earth I'm going to get stuff moved from the old to the new system. Believe it or not, my biggest concern is bookmarks! I've got a gazillion of them, in AOL, Netscape, and Firefox, and I really hate the idea of starting all over. And the AOL saved mail. Don't know how to xfer that, either. I'm sure it's all in a folder somewhere, but I don't know where, what it's called. Searching for a phrase I know is in an email doesn't turn anything up.
.
SiteMeter isn't working for me any more. It hasn't recorded any visits since 6 am Wednesday. I tested it by visiting the blog myself through Firefox and AOL, both of which will show up in the hit list, but no show even for those visits. I'm getting no updates at all. I logged in and out, checked the settings and account, everything I could think of, and it all looks good. Anyone else having any problem?
------------------------------------------
I ran errands yesterday, seven different stops, got a lot done. One of the stops was to the fuel oil bookkeeper. I prepay for my winter's fuel oil, which gets me a discounted price per gallon. I noticed that the previous delivery ticket said my credit balance after delivery was $416.74. Last week's delivery ticket said my starting credit was $173.51. Um, where'd the other $243.23 go?
They took the payment for my annual service contract out of my fuel oil credit. One of my stops earlier was to mail the check for the service contract, so she gave me credit for the double payment.
It annoys me that they debited my account for the service plan, without my permission. They've almost doubled the price since last year (but they cover more parts under the new plan), so there's another furnace service outfit that has been offering to take over service for less. I might have decided to switch to them. If I hadn't been vigilant, I could have been out the 200+ for a plan I didn't need, wouldn't have used, and didn't even know I had.
---------------------------------
I'm doing laundry today, and for the first time I'm grateful for my silty hard well water. With Daughter and Hercules looking for a house, I've been doing some research on communities in central NJ, and found something weird. Several communities have so much chlorine in the water that it's undrinkable unless it's left standing a while, and it bleaches laundry! Many people on town forums have complained about whole loads of dark clothes ruined.
Daughter is looking forward to having a washer down the hall, instead of having to go to the next block. I wonder how she'd feel about having to take dark loads to the next town!
----------------------------------
I read a bunch of stuff about the laptop yesterday, and I'm finding my way around it. It's getting easier.
I love the touch pad! You swoop the cursor around by sweeping your finger over the pad. The left and right mouse buttons are below it. Roman doesn't like it - he uses a wireless mouse at home and a minimouse (would that be a vole?) on the road.
One problem I had at first was that every once in a while, the system took off on its own, like I had clicked the left button or something. Roman laughed, he says that if you just tap the pad, that's a left click, and I must be accidentally tapping it, so he told me how to turn that off so you just use the buttons. But I'm having trouble dragging stuff because you have to hold the left button down with your thumb while moving the cursor on the pad with the other fingers. It's not too hard to drag up and down, but left to right is awkward.
In my reading last night I discovered that we've got "tap drag", too. If you tap the pad twice, it "grabs" whatever you're pointing at, and then you can swoop things around easily. Cool. So I turned tap back on. I like it! Scrolling is nifty, too. You just run your finger along the right side or bottom of the pad, and the page scrolls.
I don't know how on earth I'm going to get stuff moved from the old to the new system. Believe it or not, my biggest concern is bookmarks! I've got a gazillion of them, in AOL, Netscape, and Firefox, and I really hate the idea of starting all over. And the AOL saved mail. Don't know how to xfer that, either. I'm sure it's all in a folder somewhere, but I don't know where, what it's called. Searching for a phrase I know is in an email doesn't turn anything up.
.
1151 Deer Roping
Friday, March 9, 2007
I got this from a joke site. Don't know who wrote it, but it tickled me because it is exactly what would happen if you rope a deer. Whoever wrote it must have had some experience. It is absolutely true that if a deer gets you down, it'll jump up and down on you. And they do bite. How do I know? Because a high school classmate did exactly what this guy tried (but not for venison, just for "fun"), with exactly the same results! (He should have known better.)
By the way, it may not be illegal to rope a deer, but it would be illegal to pen and keep it. You need a permit for that.
----------------------------------------------
I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it. The first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured since they congregated at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it shouldn't be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head to calm it down, then hog tie and transport it home. I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, who had seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it.
After about 20 minutes the deer showed up - 3 of them. I picked out a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me. I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation. I took a step towards it, it took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope and received an education.
The first thing I learned is that while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope. That deer EXPLODED. The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight down with a rope and some dignity. A deer? Not a chance. That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it.
As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I originally imagined. The only up side is that they do not have as much stamina as many animals. A brief 10 minutes later it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head.
At that point I had lost my taste for corn fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of my rope. I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love at all between that deer and me. At that moment, I hated the thing and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual. Despite the gash in my head and several large knots I received when I cleverly arrested the deer's momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks while it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize there might be a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in. I didn't want the deer to suffer a slow death so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder - a little trap I had set before hand. Kind of like a squeeze chute. I got it to back in there and started moving up so I could get my rope back.
Did you know that deer bite? They do! I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody so I was very surprised when I reached up to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist. Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head - almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts. The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective. It seemed like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds.
I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now), tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing up my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose. That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day. Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on their back legs and strike right about head and shoulder level with those surprisingly sharp hooves.
I learned a long time ago that when an animal like a horse strikes at you with their hooves and you can't get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape. This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond I devised a different strategy. I screamed like a woman and tried to turn and run. The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head. Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and three times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down.
Now when a deer paws at you and knocks you down it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are lying there crying like a little girl and covering your head. I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away.
Now for the local legend. I was pretty beat up. My scalp was split open, I had several large goose eggs, my wrist was bleeding pretty good and felt broken (it turned out to be just badly bruised) and my back was bleeding in a few places, though my insulated canvas jacket had protected me from most of the worst of it.
I drove to the nearest place, which was the co-op. I got out of the truck, covered in blood and dust . The guy who ran the place saw me through the window and came running out yelling "what happened". I have never seen any law in the state of Texas that would prohibit an individual from roping a deer. I suspect that this is an area they have overlooked entirely. Knowing, as I do, the lengths to which law enforcement personnel will go to exercise their power, I was concerned that they may find a way to twist the existing laws to paint my actions as criminal. I swear not wanting to admit that I had done something monumentally stupid played no part in my response. I told him "I was attacked by a deer."
I did not mention that at the time I had a rope on it. The evidence was all over my body. Deer prints on the back of my jacket where it had stomped all over me, and a large deer print on my face where it had struck me there. I asked him to call somebody to come get me. I didn't think I could make it home on my own. He did.
Later that afternoon, a game warden showed up at my house and wanted to know about the deer attack. Surprisingly, deer attacks are a rare thing and the warden was interested in the event. I tried to describe the attack as completely and accurately as I could. I was filling the grain hopper and this deer came out of nowhere and just started kicking the hell out of me and BIT me. It was obviously rabid or insane or something.
EVERYBODY for miles around knows about the deer attack (the guy at the co-op has a big mouth). For several weeks people dragged their kids in the house when they saw deer around and the local ranchers carried rifles when they filled their feeders. I have told several people the story, but NEVER anybody around here. I have to see these people every day and as an outsider - a "city folk" I have enough trouble fitting in without them snickering behind my back and whispering "there's the idiot that tried to rope a deer."
---------------------------------
My classmate could have written this.... "Cept it would have been Pennsylvania, not Texas. Question - Howcum the rope doesn't tighten and choke the beasty while it's dragging you?
.
I got this from a joke site. Don't know who wrote it, but it tickled me because it is exactly what would happen if you rope a deer. Whoever wrote it must have had some experience. It is absolutely true that if a deer gets you down, it'll jump up and down on you. And they do bite. How do I know? Because a high school classmate did exactly what this guy tried (but not for venison, just for "fun"), with exactly the same results! (He should have known better.)
By the way, it may not be illegal to rope a deer, but it would be illegal to pen and keep it. You need a permit for that.
----------------------------------------------
I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it. The first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured since they congregated at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it shouldn't be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head to calm it down, then hog tie and transport it home. I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, who had seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it.
After about 20 minutes the deer showed up - 3 of them. I picked out a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me. I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation. I took a step towards it, it took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope and received an education.
The first thing I learned is that while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope. That deer EXPLODED. The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight down with a rope and some dignity. A deer? Not a chance. That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it.
As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I originally imagined. The only up side is that they do not have as much stamina as many animals. A brief 10 minutes later it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head.
At that point I had lost my taste for corn fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of my rope. I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love at all between that deer and me. At that moment, I hated the thing and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual. Despite the gash in my head and several large knots I received when I cleverly arrested the deer's momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks while it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize there might be a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in. I didn't want the deer to suffer a slow death so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder - a little trap I had set before hand. Kind of like a squeeze chute. I got it to back in there and started moving up so I could get my rope back.
Did you know that deer bite? They do! I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody so I was very surprised when I reached up to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist. Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head - almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts. The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective. It seemed like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds.
I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now), tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing up my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose. That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day. Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on their back legs and strike right about head and shoulder level with those surprisingly sharp hooves.
I learned a long time ago that when an animal like a horse strikes at you with their hooves and you can't get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape. This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond I devised a different strategy. I screamed like a woman and tried to turn and run. The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head. Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and three times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down.
Now when a deer paws at you and knocks you down it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are lying there crying like a little girl and covering your head. I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away.
Now for the local legend. I was pretty beat up. My scalp was split open, I had several large goose eggs, my wrist was bleeding pretty good and felt broken (it turned out to be just badly bruised) and my back was bleeding in a few places, though my insulated canvas jacket had protected me from most of the worst of it.
I drove to the nearest place, which was the co-op. I got out of the truck, covered in blood and dust . The guy who ran the place saw me through the window and came running out yelling "what happened". I have never seen any law in the state of Texas that would prohibit an individual from roping a deer. I suspect that this is an area they have overlooked entirely. Knowing, as I do, the lengths to which law enforcement personnel will go to exercise their power, I was concerned that they may find a way to twist the existing laws to paint my actions as criminal. I swear not wanting to admit that I had done something monumentally stupid played no part in my response. I told him "I was attacked by a deer."
I did not mention that at the time I had a rope on it. The evidence was all over my body. Deer prints on the back of my jacket where it had stomped all over me, and a large deer print on my face where it had struck me there. I asked him to call somebody to come get me. I didn't think I could make it home on my own. He did.
Later that afternoon, a game warden showed up at my house and wanted to know about the deer attack. Surprisingly, deer attacks are a rare thing and the warden was interested in the event. I tried to describe the attack as completely and accurately as I could. I was filling the grain hopper and this deer came out of nowhere and just started kicking the hell out of me and BIT me. It was obviously rabid or insane or something.
EVERYBODY for miles around knows about the deer attack (the guy at the co-op has a big mouth). For several weeks people dragged their kids in the house when they saw deer around and the local ranchers carried rifles when they filled their feeders. I have told several people the story, but NEVER anybody around here. I have to see these people every day and as an outsider - a "city folk" I have enough trouble fitting in without them snickering behind my back and whispering "there's the idiot that tried to rope a deer."
---------------------------------
My classmate could have written this.... "Cept it would have been Pennsylvania, not Texas. Question - Howcum the rope doesn't tighten and choke the beasty while it's dragging you?
.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
1150 Laptop Has Arrived
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
The new laptop arrived this afternoon. I played with it for a while, and got pretty frustrated. It's a Dell Inspiron 1501, with Microsoft Windows Vista Home Premium, a 15.4 inch TrueLife Wide-screen WXGA, and 80GB hard drive. Or something.
There's absolutely no hardcopy documentation. I had to send an emergency email to Roman to ask how to open the CD/DVD tray. He walked me through a bunch of stuff by phone this evening.
I've been on Windows 98SE all this time, so I haven't made the stepwise transitions. I'm totally lost! Even the terminology is different. I can't find anything. Hey - who knew that on a laptop "Shutdown" is obsolete! Apparently it's there, but you don't need it, so it's hidden away in a dark place. I feel like the guy who complained that he couldn't find the "Any" key.
Tomorrow I'll read the softcopy documentation. I have to go to the museum tomorrow afternoon and take care of the membership renewals that have arrived since last week, so I'll stop in a bookstore and see if there's a Vista for Dummies book.
Daughter called. Her father (Ex#2) is home from the hospital, and already ignoring the diabetes diet. He has no feeling in his feet, one foot is purple, hands are numb. He hasn't "handled business" in ages, like for example his car hasn't been inspected, registered, or insured in two years. Daughter has some work ahead of her. The only good thing is that he isn't objecting to her plan to move him back east. She doesn't know where she'll PUT him, but, one step at a time....
I did go to the ballroom dance class this evening. There was a guy in the advanced class that meets before ours who stayed to assist with our class, so I had a really good partner.
.
The new laptop arrived this afternoon. I played with it for a while, and got pretty frustrated. It's a Dell Inspiron 1501, with Microsoft Windows Vista Home Premium, a 15.4 inch TrueLife Wide-screen WXGA, and 80GB hard drive. Or something.
There's absolutely no hardcopy documentation. I had to send an emergency email to Roman to ask how to open the CD/DVD tray. He walked me through a bunch of stuff by phone this evening.
I've been on Windows 98SE all this time, so I haven't made the stepwise transitions. I'm totally lost! Even the terminology is different. I can't find anything. Hey - who knew that on a laptop "Shutdown" is obsolete! Apparently it's there, but you don't need it, so it's hidden away in a dark place. I feel like the guy who complained that he couldn't find the "Any" key.
Tomorrow I'll read the softcopy documentation. I have to go to the museum tomorrow afternoon and take care of the membership renewals that have arrived since last week, so I'll stop in a bookstore and see if there's a Vista for Dummies book.
Daughter called. Her father (Ex#2) is home from the hospital, and already ignoring the diabetes diet. He has no feeling in his feet, one foot is purple, hands are numb. He hasn't "handled business" in ages, like for example his car hasn't been inspected, registered, or insured in two years. Daughter has some work ahead of her. The only good thing is that he isn't objecting to her plan to move him back east. She doesn't know where she'll PUT him, but, one step at a time....
I did go to the ballroom dance class this evening. There was a guy in the advanced class that meets before ours who stayed to assist with our class, so I had a really good partner.
.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
1149 The Rest of the Weekend
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
So, the gathering was over at about noon on Sunday, and I headed over to Daughter and Hercules's apartment, which was only about 15 minutes away. Hercules was just returning from a run. Daughter was still at her conference. Hercules and I were going to go geocaching, but I fell asleep on the couch while he was taking a shower, and he didn't wake me until Daughter got home. Then we all three went geocaching.
It was an easy one, rather obviously hidden in a little-old-lady-friendly area, but it was fun anyway.
I'm going to buy myself a hiking GPS just like the one I got for Hercules, and start doing it myself around here.
Daughter is taking the next two weeks off (or however long it takes) to go to Colorado and attempt to drag her father back east. She got a call from his neighbor over the weekend while she was at her conference that he had fallen and couldn't get up, and he was taken to the hospital - for the third time in two months. It's now uncontrolled diabetes. He is simply incapable of taking care of himself.
She flew out yesterday and I haven't heard from her since. I called Hercules this evening and left a voice mail, if he'd heard from her, please fill me in. I don't know what advice I could give her. His sisters won't want him, and he can't stay with her and Hercules. He's got plenty of money, and the kids are looking for a house, so maybe he could buy a mother-daughter (father-daughter?) duplex for the three of them. (A fortune teller long ago said that *I* would end up living with him again, but I really don't see that happening!)
She talked to a social worker at the hospital on Sunday evening while I was there. She wanted to make sure that the hospital didn't discharge him before she got there. I could hear the woman clearly (Daughter's cell is very loud), and it sounded like she started out saying something like that there was no chance he'd be discharged anytime soon, and then she realized that maybe over the phone she should be a bit more circumspect and back off to "there are no discharge orders in the works". So, he may be worse off than Daughter expects. I wouldn't be surprised if his kidneys are failing.
He's only six weeks older than I. But he's been working on dying for as long as I've known him.
.
So, the gathering was over at about noon on Sunday, and I headed over to Daughter and Hercules's apartment, which was only about 15 minutes away. Hercules was just returning from a run. Daughter was still at her conference. Hercules and I were going to go geocaching, but I fell asleep on the couch while he was taking a shower, and he didn't wake me until Daughter got home. Then we all three went geocaching.
It was an easy one, rather obviously hidden in a little-old-lady-friendly area, but it was fun anyway.
I'm going to buy myself a hiking GPS just like the one I got for Hercules, and start doing it myself around here.
Daughter is taking the next two weeks off (or however long it takes) to go to Colorado and attempt to drag her father back east. She got a call from his neighbor over the weekend while she was at her conference that he had fallen and couldn't get up, and he was taken to the hospital - for the third time in two months. It's now uncontrolled diabetes. He is simply incapable of taking care of himself.
She flew out yesterday and I haven't heard from her since. I called Hercules this evening and left a voice mail, if he'd heard from her, please fill me in. I don't know what advice I could give her. His sisters won't want him, and he can't stay with her and Hercules. He's got plenty of money, and the kids are looking for a house, so maybe he could buy a mother-daughter (father-daughter?) duplex for the three of them. (A fortune teller long ago said that *I* would end up living with him again, but I really don't see that happening!)
She talked to a social worker at the hospital on Sunday evening while I was there. She wanted to make sure that the hospital didn't discharge him before she got there. I could hear the woman clearly (Daughter's cell is very loud), and it sounded like she started out saying something like that there was no chance he'd be discharged anytime soon, and then she realized that maybe over the phone she should be a bit more circumspect and back off to "there are no discharge orders in the works". So, he may be worse off than Daughter expects. I wouldn't be surprised if his kidneys are failing.
He's only six weeks older than I. But he's been working on dying for as long as I've known him.
.
1148 Small World, continued
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
I bought a dark chocolate muffin/cupcake yesterday, lit a candle in it, sang Happy Birthday (55th) to Jay, and then ate half of it. I use the same candle every year, a little yellow and white one. In the past six years it has burned down only 1/8 inch. I'd like to scatter the other half of the muffin for the birds and chipmunks, that would seem appropriate, but I don't think chocolate is good for anyone but people. And maybe bears.
Which reminds me, "men live like bears with furniture." Don't know where that came from, but I like it and just thought I'd throw it out here.
Most couples have a song. For some reason, I have animals. With Obie and me it was hound dogs, with Jay and me it was polar bears, with Roman, it's penguins, and so on. The animal always seemed to have something to do with an early date, but when I think back, the animal always actually had something to do with the guy and the relationship. I guess that's why the animal stuck.
----------------------------------------------
Well, back to the weekend.
The Saturday night dance, with a DJ, started at 9:30. Hercules and I sat at a large table near the side wall with a couple I'd met the evening before, Razor (in his 40s, I think, another computer professional) and his lady. Razor and Hercules hit it right off - they had the same taste in music, and the DJ played right right up their alley. They talked about what they liked and what they hated, and they matched perfectly. The two of them got all excited. Hercules is a bit hyper, and when the right music played, he'd stand next to the table and dance. By the end of the evening, he and Razor were both standing on opposite sides of the table dancing up a storm, challenging each other. The next day, I pointed out to Hercules that they were dancing with each other! "The table between you made it ok, huh?" Hercules was shocked that I'd even suggest such a thing....
(Somewhere in there was dessert in the hospitality room (a dozen varieties of ice cream and toppings, and every kind of pie ever made), and at midnight there was chocolate fondue, with fruit and marshmallows for dipping. Hercules dipped Oreo cookies. Sugar makes him bounce off walls.)
At one point I left the dance for a few minutes. When I got back, Hercules was sopping wet. Something got played that neither of them could resist, and they got out on the dance floor. I didn't find out what happened until the next morning. More later.
Anyway, at one point Razor said that he liked Barenaked Ladies, and then he turned to his lady and said "That's the cruise I was on in January". I whooped and said "I know of someone else who was on that cruise! A blogger in the St. Louis area!" (unless there was more than one BNL cruise in January). I tried to describe the other couple, but I had only first names (of which I wasn't sure anyway) and only the most superficial of physical descriptions (I didn't mention the Brazilian connection). It didn't spark any "Oh, yeah"s, but he said if they had met at all, they'd remember him. "I was the only Black guy on the cruise." He's also big into karaoke, so ya'll might have seen him there. I said I'd check, and let him know if the twain had met. Comments? Recollections? Anything anybody might want me to tell him?
He said he was in the naked photo, so I scarfed it off the other blog and attempted to enlarge it with Irfan, but it got too fuzzy to see anyone. I found a few dark blobs, but they could have been just bearded faces. He said that they were told to drop their robes on signal, and that was ok. The awkward part was afterward, when they had to bend over to pick them up, "being packed together so tight and all". He had to time it right to avoid the backside of the guy in front of him.
So, that was Saturday night.
Sunday morning at breakfast in the hospitality room, the whole room was abuzz - "Did you see that guy on the dance floor last night? Wow! He was incredible!" "He was breakdancing or something, and he'd go right down on his back on the floor, and he went like this with his legs (diving motion of the hand) and he came right straight up standing on his feet! Never saw anything like it!" "Who was he? I've never seen him before." "Silk, I saw you talking with him. Do you know him?"
I was very tempted to say "Know him? I took him back to my room last night. He agreed that the bed was too soft."
But, that's how rumors get started and reputations get ruined, so I didn't. I just said he's my son-in-law. He followed my daughter home one day and I said she could keep him. People were impressed.
-----------------------------------
The weekend's men:
The 42-year-old who monopolized my Saturday night at the Boston gathering was there. We talked a few times. I suspect he's still interested in some way, or I could spark it with no effort, but I'm having some trouble figuring him out.
The Un3xploded Cow was there, sans udders. There were two women chasing him around, and I'm not sure he's my type anyway, so I spoke with him only a few times. At one point there was a hug, and I did something very bad. His shirt was unbuttoned about halfway down, and that's about where my nose came to, and I discovered he has exactly the kind of "standing-out" furry front that I like, and I pulled his shirt more open and nuzzled my nose in the fur, "Oooo, furry. I like furry." That was Sunday morning. It'll give him something to think about between now and the next gathering (there's Toronto in April, and Maryland in May).
I met someone new, I'll call him Steve. He's a bit taller than I like, but nice looking. I walked up to him in the hospitality room when Hercules arrived and we couldn't find anyone to register him, and Steve looked like someone who might be in charge and could tell us what to do. He said nobody would care if Hercules wasn't registered, and if anyone did, send them to him. In the ensuing conversation, it was made clear that he was not involved with anyone, that he was familiar with the area where I lived and was considering buying a summer place up here, and he mentioned that Mensans eat so much because "we're not getting any sex". In case I didn't catch it the first time, he repeated it. And then something similar a bit later. Even Hercules said "He was coming on to you! Big time!" I mildly flirted back Sunday at breakfast, when it was safer. I'll do some research on him between now and the next gathering.
There was another man I fell instantly in lust with, a Paul Newman clone, but I like his wife. Sigh. I felt like telling her that if she ever decided she wanted a divorce, she should call me, and I'd make it easy for her.
I panted a little at Razor, too. A little too young, a little too tall, and a little too into popular music, but very smart and very nice to look at.
And that was the gathering.
.
I bought a dark chocolate muffin/cupcake yesterday, lit a candle in it, sang Happy Birthday (55th) to Jay, and then ate half of it. I use the same candle every year, a little yellow and white one. In the past six years it has burned down only 1/8 inch. I'd like to scatter the other half of the muffin for the birds and chipmunks, that would seem appropriate, but I don't think chocolate is good for anyone but people. And maybe bears.
Which reminds me, "men live like bears with furniture." Don't know where that came from, but I like it and just thought I'd throw it out here.
Most couples have a song. For some reason, I have animals. With Obie and me it was hound dogs, with Jay and me it was polar bears, with Roman, it's penguins, and so on. The animal always seemed to have something to do with an early date, but when I think back, the animal always actually had something to do with the guy and the relationship. I guess that's why the animal stuck.
----------------------------------------------
Well, back to the weekend.
The Saturday night dance, with a DJ, started at 9:30. Hercules and I sat at a large table near the side wall with a couple I'd met the evening before, Razor (in his 40s, I think, another computer professional) and his lady. Razor and Hercules hit it right off - they had the same taste in music, and the DJ played right right up their alley. They talked about what they liked and what they hated, and they matched perfectly. The two of them got all excited. Hercules is a bit hyper, and when the right music played, he'd stand next to the table and dance. By the end of the evening, he and Razor were both standing on opposite sides of the table dancing up a storm, challenging each other. The next day, I pointed out to Hercules that they were dancing with each other! "The table between you made it ok, huh?" Hercules was shocked that I'd even suggest such a thing....
(Somewhere in there was dessert in the hospitality room (a dozen varieties of ice cream and toppings, and every kind of pie ever made), and at midnight there was chocolate fondue, with fruit and marshmallows for dipping. Hercules dipped Oreo cookies. Sugar makes him bounce off walls.)
At one point I left the dance for a few minutes. When I got back, Hercules was sopping wet. Something got played that neither of them could resist, and they got out on the dance floor. I didn't find out what happened until the next morning. More later.
Anyway, at one point Razor said that he liked Barenaked Ladies, and then he turned to his lady and said "That's the cruise I was on in January". I whooped and said "I know of someone else who was on that cruise! A blogger in the St. Louis area!" (unless there was more than one BNL cruise in January). I tried to describe the other couple, but I had only first names (of which I wasn't sure anyway) and only the most superficial of physical descriptions (I didn't mention the Brazilian connection). It didn't spark any "Oh, yeah"s, but he said if they had met at all, they'd remember him. "I was the only Black guy on the cruise." He's also big into karaoke, so ya'll might have seen him there. I said I'd check, and let him know if the twain had met. Comments? Recollections? Anything anybody might want me to tell him?
He said he was in the naked photo, so I scarfed it off the other blog and attempted to enlarge it with Irfan, but it got too fuzzy to see anyone. I found a few dark blobs, but they could have been just bearded faces. He said that they were told to drop their robes on signal, and that was ok. The awkward part was afterward, when they had to bend over to pick them up, "being packed together so tight and all". He had to time it right to avoid the backside of the guy in front of him.
So, that was Saturday night.
Sunday morning at breakfast in the hospitality room, the whole room was abuzz - "Did you see that guy on the dance floor last night? Wow! He was incredible!" "He was breakdancing or something, and he'd go right down on his back on the floor, and he went like this with his legs (diving motion of the hand) and he came right straight up standing on his feet! Never saw anything like it!" "Who was he? I've never seen him before." "Silk, I saw you talking with him. Do you know him?"
I was very tempted to say "Know him? I took him back to my room last night. He agreed that the bed was too soft."
But, that's how rumors get started and reputations get ruined, so I didn't. I just said he's my son-in-law. He followed my daughter home one day and I said she could keep him. People were impressed.
-----------------------------------
The weekend's men:
The 42-year-old who monopolized my Saturday night at the Boston gathering was there. We talked a few times. I suspect he's still interested in some way, or I could spark it with no effort, but I'm having some trouble figuring him out.
The Un3xploded Cow was there, sans udders. There were two women chasing him around, and I'm not sure he's my type anyway, so I spoke with him only a few times. At one point there was a hug, and I did something very bad. His shirt was unbuttoned about halfway down, and that's about where my nose came to, and I discovered he has exactly the kind of "standing-out" furry front that I like, and I pulled his shirt more open and nuzzled my nose in the fur, "Oooo, furry. I like furry." That was Sunday morning. It'll give him something to think about between now and the next gathering (there's Toronto in April, and Maryland in May).
I met someone new, I'll call him Steve. He's a bit taller than I like, but nice looking. I walked up to him in the hospitality room when Hercules arrived and we couldn't find anyone to register him, and Steve looked like someone who might be in charge and could tell us what to do. He said nobody would care if Hercules wasn't registered, and if anyone did, send them to him. In the ensuing conversation, it was made clear that he was not involved with anyone, that he was familiar with the area where I lived and was considering buying a summer place up here, and he mentioned that Mensans eat so much because "we're not getting any sex". In case I didn't catch it the first time, he repeated it. And then something similar a bit later. Even Hercules said "He was coming on to you! Big time!" I mildly flirted back Sunday at breakfast, when it was safer. I'll do some research on him between now and the next gathering.
There was another man I fell instantly in lust with, a Paul Newman clone, but I like his wife. Sigh. I felt like telling her that if she ever decided she wanted a divorce, she should call me, and I'd make it easy for her.
I panted a little at Razor, too. A little too young, a little too tall, and a little too into popular music, but very smart and very nice to look at.
And that was the gathering.
.
Monday, March 05, 2007
1147 Small World
Monday, March 05, 2007
[Later edit - I remembered the name of the religion with the eternal flame - the Zoroastrians. See http://webzc.com/webzc.com/about.htm for a description of Zoroastrianism. It resonates with me in several ways (though not in others).]
In my usual time-unconscious way, I headed out Friday just in time to get to the Garden State Parkway at the beginning of rush hour. On a Friday. But it wasn't too bad, and I made it to the gathering hotel in enough time to register, sign in at the Mensa desk (I was a little embarrassed all weekend by my name tag - the woman at the desk had been into the wine, I guess, and tried to get fancy with "Silk", and it was almost unreadable), and meet a NJ blogger at 6 pm for dinner.
I'd been reading this lady's blog for several months. Her blog is full of atmosphere - she manages to convey mood even when she's writing about, oh, stop signs. I already knew a bit about her daily life, but I found I knew nothing about her. I expected a rather shy, quiet, perhaps indecisive, "gray" personality. Nope. She's decisive, open, confident, even a little imposing in appearance. She'd been kicked around in the past, but I think she's finding her strength now. I'm so happy to have met her. I needed a reminder that reading a blog is not "knowing" a person.
After all the advice I had got when I was planning to go to Manhattan for Roman's parents' memorial service, I vowed to go to NYC on my own this summer. I may now have someone to meet there.
The first Mensa sessions (monster trivia, a talk on lunar eclipses, and a talk on total wellness - pick one) were at 8 pm, but we were having such an interesting dinner, I blew it off. After dinner I went to the hospitality room, and found subs and all kinds of drinks and yummies, and lots of interesting people. There were 200+ attendees. I think I've about convinced half of them it's time to retire. I was also surprised that about half the people there are "in computers", and of those, half work for (or worked for) The Company. Most are now contractors.
I ran into one of the guys I had been playing trivia with, who had moved to Chicago. Another of our Mid-Hudson members moved to Chicago a few months ago, and I asked him if he had seen her at any Mensa event there, and he said no, but that he was surprised to run into her at a store downtown. In Chicago. Neat, huh?
Saturday breakfast in the hospitality room started at 6 am. I was up until 1, so there was no way I was going to make that. Last year, Roman was disappointed because by the time we made it to breakfast, all the lox were gone. Lots of bagels, but no lox. (I had never had bagels with lox and cream cheese, so a few weeks later, he introduced me at breakfast at his house. His were better ... ) I got downstairs at 7:15, and there was still lox. I wandered by at 10:45, and there were STILL lox! (Were? Was? Is lox plural?)
See, Roman? You should have been there. I called him and left a message to that effect.
At 9 I attended a talk and slide show by a woman who goes on archaeological tours. This one was on Iran, her latest trip. We've all heard of the Persian empire, and Alexander the Great, and the Hittites, and all that, but it hadn't occurred to me that Iran is full of ruins, just like Greece and Italy, and that you can, like, touch a door frame that Alexander had likely touched. I like connections like that. A lot of the "ruins" seemed fresher and in better condition than many younger ones I had seen in Europe. She says that Iran is tolerant of other religions. There's a Zoroastrian temple where there is an eternal flame, apricot wood and sandalwood in a bowl, that the priests have kept burning for 2000 years (actually, the number was "since 400", but I can't remember whether it was BC or AD).
At 10:30 a guy compared Tim Burton's movie Mars Attacks with Dante's Divine Comedy, showing the parallels in punishment and reward. The talk was all about the similarity between the two, but that wasn't the real point (which many attendees seemed to miss), which was that you can take any two things, and if you can find a few descriptors in common between them, you can build on them to make it sound like they are exactly the same. The talk was tongue-in-cheek, but some people missed that. Maybe because the two things he chose were very parallel - or maybe he was just good enough at it that he even convinced me, who was aware what he was doing. I wonder if he has any good deals on any bridges....
At noon, they brought in a few hundred pizzas.
I skipped the 1 pm program choices (there were multiple choices in each time slot) as none excited me, and I wanted to meet more people in the hospitality room.
At 2:30 I attended a synopsis of the Cosmology Colloquium held in Albany last fall. The subject was mostly what was before the "big bang", black holes and how they form, dark matter, etc., and the search for what really "fills" space.
At 4 there was a hilarious pun-filled rather naughty performance of the Pungo Players - a "Camelot"-themed musical playlet named "Mensalot", followed by a hotel-catered buffet dinner.
Then of course we all watched the lunar eclipse.
Son-in-law Hercules arrived at about 6. Daughter was attending a weekend Montessori conference in the city, so I had invited Hercules to join me. All the Mensa attendees wore a name tag that allowed them into the programs and hospitality foods, so I took him to the Mensa registration desk to get him a temporary badge, but there was no one there. Undeterred, he folded a piece of paper to the proper size and faked himself one. (People laughed because he had carefully copied, in black pen, the pink spoon sticker on my badge. The spoon was to indicate that I had paid for the dinner buffet.)
I introduced him around (Look what my daughter brought home for me!), and then we went to the 7 pm keynote talk, given by George Musser, a Scientific American editor, on what discoveries he expects will be made in fundamental physics and cosmology in the next ten years. (The particles are getting tinier and tinier, and Hercules and I both believe there is no upper or lower limit in size. When they finally detect what they now theorize are the tiniest particles, I'll bet they'll find hints of tinier. Ho hum.)
At 9:30 we went to the dance. The next morning, everybody at breakfast was taking about Hercules. He shook the place up. Next entry.
[Much later edit - this is the night I first met The Man.]
.
[Later edit - I remembered the name of the religion with the eternal flame - the Zoroastrians. See http://webzc.com/webzc.com/about.htm for a description of Zoroastrianism. It resonates with me in several ways (though not in others).]
In my usual time-unconscious way, I headed out Friday just in time to get to the Garden State Parkway at the beginning of rush hour. On a Friday. But it wasn't too bad, and I made it to the gathering hotel in enough time to register, sign in at the Mensa desk (I was a little embarrassed all weekend by my name tag - the woman at the desk had been into the wine, I guess, and tried to get fancy with "Silk", and it was almost unreadable), and meet a NJ blogger at 6 pm for dinner.
I'd been reading this lady's blog for several months. Her blog is full of atmosphere - she manages to convey mood even when she's writing about, oh, stop signs. I already knew a bit about her daily life, but I found I knew nothing about her. I expected a rather shy, quiet, perhaps indecisive, "gray" personality. Nope. She's decisive, open, confident, even a little imposing in appearance. She'd been kicked around in the past, but I think she's finding her strength now. I'm so happy to have met her. I needed a reminder that reading a blog is not "knowing" a person.
After all the advice I had got when I was planning to go to Manhattan for Roman's parents' memorial service, I vowed to go to NYC on my own this summer. I may now have someone to meet there.
The first Mensa sessions (monster trivia, a talk on lunar eclipses, and a talk on total wellness - pick one) were at 8 pm, but we were having such an interesting dinner, I blew it off. After dinner I went to the hospitality room, and found subs and all kinds of drinks and yummies, and lots of interesting people. There were 200+ attendees. I think I've about convinced half of them it's time to retire. I was also surprised that about half the people there are "in computers", and of those, half work for (or worked for) The Company. Most are now contractors.
I ran into one of the guys I had been playing trivia with, who had moved to Chicago. Another of our Mid-Hudson members moved to Chicago a few months ago, and I asked him if he had seen her at any Mensa event there, and he said no, but that he was surprised to run into her at a store downtown. In Chicago. Neat, huh?
Saturday breakfast in the hospitality room started at 6 am. I was up until 1, so there was no way I was going to make that. Last year, Roman was disappointed because by the time we made it to breakfast, all the lox were gone. Lots of bagels, but no lox. (I had never had bagels with lox and cream cheese, so a few weeks later, he introduced me at breakfast at his house. His were better ... ) I got downstairs at 7:15, and there was still lox. I wandered by at 10:45, and there were STILL lox! (Were? Was? Is lox plural?)
See, Roman? You should have been there. I called him and left a message to that effect.
At 9 I attended a talk and slide show by a woman who goes on archaeological tours. This one was on Iran, her latest trip. We've all heard of the Persian empire, and Alexander the Great, and the Hittites, and all that, but it hadn't occurred to me that Iran is full of ruins, just like Greece and Italy, and that you can, like, touch a door frame that Alexander had likely touched. I like connections like that. A lot of the "ruins" seemed fresher and in better condition than many younger ones I had seen in Europe. She says that Iran is tolerant of other religions. There's a Zoroastrian temple where there is an eternal flame, apricot wood and sandalwood in a bowl, that the priests have kept burning for 2000 years (actually, the number was "since 400", but I can't remember whether it was BC or AD).
At 10:30 a guy compared Tim Burton's movie Mars Attacks with Dante's Divine Comedy, showing the parallels in punishment and reward. The talk was all about the similarity between the two, but that wasn't the real point (which many attendees seemed to miss), which was that you can take any two things, and if you can find a few descriptors in common between them, you can build on them to make it sound like they are exactly the same. The talk was tongue-in-cheek, but some people missed that. Maybe because the two things he chose were very parallel - or maybe he was just good enough at it that he even convinced me, who was aware what he was doing. I wonder if he has any good deals on any bridges....
At noon, they brought in a few hundred pizzas.
I skipped the 1 pm program choices (there were multiple choices in each time slot) as none excited me, and I wanted to meet more people in the hospitality room.
At 2:30 I attended a synopsis of the Cosmology Colloquium held in Albany last fall. The subject was mostly what was before the "big bang", black holes and how they form, dark matter, etc., and the search for what really "fills" space.
At 4 there was a hilarious pun-filled rather naughty performance of the Pungo Players - a "Camelot"-themed musical playlet named "Mensalot", followed by a hotel-catered buffet dinner.
Then of course we all watched the lunar eclipse.
Son-in-law Hercules arrived at about 6. Daughter was attending a weekend Montessori conference in the city, so I had invited Hercules to join me. All the Mensa attendees wore a name tag that allowed them into the programs and hospitality foods, so I took him to the Mensa registration desk to get him a temporary badge, but there was no one there. Undeterred, he folded a piece of paper to the proper size and faked himself one. (People laughed because he had carefully copied, in black pen, the pink spoon sticker on my badge. The spoon was to indicate that I had paid for the dinner buffet.)
I introduced him around (Look what my daughter brought home for me!), and then we went to the 7 pm keynote talk, given by George Musser, a Scientific American editor, on what discoveries he expects will be made in fundamental physics and cosmology in the next ten years. (The particles are getting tinier and tinier, and Hercules and I both believe there is no upper or lower limit in size. When they finally detect what they now theorize are the tiniest particles, I'll bet they'll find hints of tinier. Ho hum.)
At 9:30 we went to the dance. The next morning, everybody at breakfast was taking about Hercules. He shook the place up. Next entry.
[Much later edit - this is the night I first met The Man.]
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1146 I'm Back
Monday, March 05, 2006
It was an interesting weekend. I got home a little after midnight last night, and I've been trying to catch up all day.
I have to get my check for registration for the Maryland and Metropolitan Washington gathering in May into the mail by 5 pm to qualify for the vast discount offered to this weekend's attendees. And today is Jay's 55th birthday, so I have to find either a fudge brownie or a piece of death-by-chocolate cake to stick a candle into, and eat for him. He was a chocoholic, so even though I ate so much junk the past three days that I have to swear off food for the next week, I'll make an exception today.
Note - never ever attempt to skewer an Oreo cookie and dip it into chocolate fondue. Well, ok, you can dip it, but don't eat it. That's real death by chocolate.
Back later.
.
It was an interesting weekend. I got home a little after midnight last night, and I've been trying to catch up all day.
I have to get my check for registration for the Maryland and Metropolitan Washington gathering in May into the mail by 5 pm to qualify for the vast discount offered to this weekend's attendees. And today is Jay's 55th birthday, so I have to find either a fudge brownie or a piece of death-by-chocolate cake to stick a candle into, and eat for him. He was a chocoholic, so even though I ate so much junk the past three days that I have to swear off food for the next week, I'll make an exception today.
Note - never ever attempt to skewer an Oreo cookie and dip it into chocolate fondue. Well, ok, you can dip it, but don't eat it. That's real death by chocolate.
Back later.
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Friday, March 02, 2007
1145 I'm Off
Friday, March 2, 2007
The weather isn't as bad as promised. It was freezing rain early this morning, but it changed to plain rain, and all the ice quickly disappeared from the vehicles and the driveway, so the drive to NJ shouldn't be too hairy.
Back Sunday.
Until then, The Hunk and The Beast are in charge.
The weather isn't as bad as promised. It was freezing rain early this morning, but it changed to plain rain, and all the ice quickly disappeared from the vehicles and the driveway, so the drive to NJ shouldn't be too hairy.
Back Sunday.
Until then, The Hunk and The Beast are in charge.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
1144 Duh?
Thursday, March 1, 2007
I was standing to the right of the television set in the kitchen. There was a reporter on, and behind her, on the left side of the screen, I could see the first few words of a sign. I wondered what the sign said, so I moved to the left so I could look behind her.
Duh....
I got no sleep last night. I think it's time to go to bed.
Tomorrow I drive to Iselin, NJ, to attend a weekend NJ Mensa gathering. The prediction is snow, sleet, freezing rain, rain. Oh, joy. I'm going anyway.
.
I was standing to the right of the television set in the kitchen. There was a reporter on, and behind her, on the left side of the screen, I could see the first few words of a sign. I wondered what the sign said, so I moved to the left so I could look behind her.
Duh....
I got no sleep last night. I think it's time to go to bed.
Tomorrow I drive to Iselin, NJ, to attend a weekend NJ Mensa gathering. The prediction is snow, sleet, freezing rain, rain. Oh, joy. I'm going anyway.
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1143 No Fire
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Yesterday and today.
I got up early yesterday, Wednesday, got dressed, and got a good start on the tax docs, spreading papers all over my bed. I would have to leave the house at a bit after noon to go to the Maritime Museum to learn more about handling membership, and then I had the ballroom dance class that evening.
At just about noon, I got a call from Roman. He was calling from work, on his lunch hour, to tell me that Angie was putting together a group for dinner that evening, at an Indian restaurant. She had put a notice on the local Mensa Yahoo group, and since I hadn't responded, he figured I hadn't seen it. He said he'd like to see me there. I thought of the dance class, and without hesitation I said yes, I'd be at dinner. I'm such a sucker for being wanted. Especially since I had been so rough on him the last time I'd seen him, at the Third Thursday dinner.
Roman had a few months ago agreed to help me find the perfect laptop configuration, at the perfect price, so he went on to say that he had found a good deal for me, and had sent me an email with the details. Since I wouldn't have time to look at it before leaving for the museum, I suggested that he bring a printout to dinner and we'd talk about it there.
Four hours at the museum. The woman who had handled the membership procedures (renewal reminders, receiving checks, corporate matching grants, thank you letters with membership card and goodies, etc.) is quitting like immediately, so I'd better understand it all.
There were four of us at dinner, and it was nice. Afterward, Roman and I sat in his car, and he showed me what he recommended I get on the laptop. There were a lot of choices of features, and he had a good grasp of the kinds of things I do. I'd have to go to a website to make my choices and place my order, and the sale ended this morning. I asked if the website had fancy flash stuff, because if it did, it might take my browser down and I might not be able to do it in time. So we went to his house, and built and ordered my laptop there.
This is the first time I'd been there since, well, "the last time", in July. I thought it was safe.
I don't think either of us is entirely sure what happened, but I ended up spending the night. At the end of placing the order, I turned to him and smiled, and he kissed me, and my mind stopped working. I think he really did want me, until he got me, and then it was like "uh oh, what do I do with her now?" In the morning, he apologized for leading me on. For my part, I was aware he wasn't entirely "there". No fire. I learned something. I'm not sure what just yet, but something.
So this morning when I arrived home, I picked up where I had left off on the taxes. I was missing only one 1099-DIV, but I was able to reconstruct it from the last dividend stub (a piece of luck - last year I was missing five, and couldn't find the stubs). I was missing one sale-of-stock 1099, but that happened to be the one Piper had sold for me because it was certificates, not book-entry, so he had a copy (which, by the way, was the "disappeared" 992 shares of Wells Fargo - mystery solved). And I was missing a local tax receipt, but I have the check. Given that there are about 70 pieces of paper altogether, this is pretty good.
No fire there, either
I put everything in manila envelopes by category, and I took it all to Piper. He'll give it to The Angel, who will do my taxes. The two of them will then figure out how much stock I can sell this year without "going into another bracket". (Do brackets even apply when it's capital gains?)
My process this year was very simple. I put a box next to the desk, and anytime anything financial-related or tax-related arrived, I put it in the box instead of filing it. It worked quite well. Now I can file everything left in the box. I think I'll simplify that, too. I'll just file it all under "Financial 2006".
.
Yesterday and today.
I got up early yesterday, Wednesday, got dressed, and got a good start on the tax docs, spreading papers all over my bed. I would have to leave the house at a bit after noon to go to the Maritime Museum to learn more about handling membership, and then I had the ballroom dance class that evening.
At just about noon, I got a call from Roman. He was calling from work, on his lunch hour, to tell me that Angie was putting together a group for dinner that evening, at an Indian restaurant. She had put a notice on the local Mensa Yahoo group, and since I hadn't responded, he figured I hadn't seen it. He said he'd like to see me there. I thought of the dance class, and without hesitation I said yes, I'd be at dinner. I'm such a sucker for being wanted. Especially since I had been so rough on him the last time I'd seen him, at the Third Thursday dinner.
Roman had a few months ago agreed to help me find the perfect laptop configuration, at the perfect price, so he went on to say that he had found a good deal for me, and had sent me an email with the details. Since I wouldn't have time to look at it before leaving for the museum, I suggested that he bring a printout to dinner and we'd talk about it there.
Four hours at the museum. The woman who had handled the membership procedures (renewal reminders, receiving checks, corporate matching grants, thank you letters with membership card and goodies, etc.) is quitting like immediately, so I'd better understand it all.
There were four of us at dinner, and it was nice. Afterward, Roman and I sat in his car, and he showed me what he recommended I get on the laptop. There were a lot of choices of features, and he had a good grasp of the kinds of things I do. I'd have to go to a website to make my choices and place my order, and the sale ended this morning. I asked if the website had fancy flash stuff, because if it did, it might take my browser down and I might not be able to do it in time. So we went to his house, and built and ordered my laptop there.
This is the first time I'd been there since, well, "the last time", in July. I thought it was safe.
I don't think either of us is entirely sure what happened, but I ended up spending the night. At the end of placing the order, I turned to him and smiled, and he kissed me, and my mind stopped working. I think he really did want me, until he got me, and then it was like "uh oh, what do I do with her now?" In the morning, he apologized for leading me on. For my part, I was aware he wasn't entirely "there". No fire. I learned something. I'm not sure what just yet, but something.
So this morning when I arrived home, I picked up where I had left off on the taxes. I was missing only one 1099-DIV, but I was able to reconstruct it from the last dividend stub (a piece of luck - last year I was missing five, and couldn't find the stubs). I was missing one sale-of-stock 1099, but that happened to be the one Piper had sold for me because it was certificates, not book-entry, so he had a copy (which, by the way, was the "disappeared" 992 shares of Wells Fargo - mystery solved). And I was missing a local tax receipt, but I have the check. Given that there are about 70 pieces of paper altogether, this is pretty good.
No fire there, either
I put everything in manila envelopes by category, and I took it all to Piper. He'll give it to The Angel, who will do my taxes. The two of them will then figure out how much stock I can sell this year without "going into another bracket". (Do brackets even apply when it's capital gains?)
My process this year was very simple. I put a box next to the desk, and anytime anything financial-related or tax-related arrived, I put it in the box instead of filing it. It worked quite well. Now I can file everything left in the box. I think I'll simplify that, too. I'll just file it all under "Financial 2006".
.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
1142 Fortunate Frustration
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
I spent a very frustrating afternoon and evening trying to sell stock. I've got stock in about 14 remaining companies that I have to sell so Piper can move it into bonds and mutual funds. Some of it is piddling little stuff like 3 shares of Avaya (a spinoff from some other stock), and 4 shares of IDEARC (a spinoff from Verizon), and I don't even know what IDEARC is.
The stock is all "book entry", and I thought I had online accounts with the various transfer agents. But the last time I dealt with most of them was in 2002, and every single company has, in the meantime, changed agents. I had to track down the new folks. To register with them, you have to do the SS# bit and all that, and then they'll send a confirmation number by snail mail, which you then have to use to get to the account.
On the other hand, you can call their phone number and sell the stock with nothing but the social security number.
I gave up on the online idea. I now have to wait until Thursday to make some calls (busy tomorrow).
It turns out this is good. The market crashed and burned today. It was the deepest drop since 9/11/01, and I didn't find that out until the 11 o'clock news. If I hadn't had all that trouble finding out who and how, I'd have really messed me over. I'm not selling anything now for a while.
I did manage to get to one account, and I'm worried. I should have a decent block of Wells Fargo, but when I got through to my account with their transfer agent, the account shows "number of shares = 0". Huh? If they think the account is abandoned (which can happen if they've got the wrong address and mail is returned to them), they'll turn the stock over to the state. So I went to the state unclaimed funds site, and I'm not listed there at all. Where did that stock go? Did that get sold last spring and I forgot to note it? This is why I hate book entry. I like having certificates in my hand.
It is now midnight, and I'm not going to sleep until I have the tax stuff together. It's going to be a long night.
.
I spent a very frustrating afternoon and evening trying to sell stock. I've got stock in about 14 remaining companies that I have to sell so Piper can move it into bonds and mutual funds. Some of it is piddling little stuff like 3 shares of Avaya (a spinoff from some other stock), and 4 shares of IDEARC (a spinoff from Verizon), and I don't even know what IDEARC is.
The stock is all "book entry", and I thought I had online accounts with the various transfer agents. But the last time I dealt with most of them was in 2002, and every single company has, in the meantime, changed agents. I had to track down the new folks. To register with them, you have to do the SS# bit and all that, and then they'll send a confirmation number by snail mail, which you then have to use to get to the account.
On the other hand, you can call their phone number and sell the stock with nothing but the social security number.
I gave up on the online idea. I now have to wait until Thursday to make some calls (busy tomorrow).
It turns out this is good. The market crashed and burned today. It was the deepest drop since 9/11/01, and I didn't find that out until the 11 o'clock news. If I hadn't had all that trouble finding out who and how, I'd have really messed me over. I'm not selling anything now for a while.
I did manage to get to one account, and I'm worried. I should have a decent block of Wells Fargo, but when I got through to my account with their transfer agent, the account shows "number of shares = 0". Huh? If they think the account is abandoned (which can happen if they've got the wrong address and mail is returned to them), they'll turn the stock over to the state. So I went to the state unclaimed funds site, and I'm not listed there at all. Where did that stock go? Did that get sold last spring and I forgot to note it? This is why I hate book entry. I like having certificates in my hand.
It is now midnight, and I'm not going to sleep until I have the tax stuff together. It's going to be a long night.
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1141 Overheard...
...on Frasier: "Unattractive? Let's put it this way - years of chewing tobacco has discolored her tooth."
1140 Spam
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Last night I went to Remax.com to look at the listing for the house Daughter and Hercules are interested in, and had to register on the site to see the details. During registration, one is told that by registering, one agrees to receive email from agents. Ok, an occasional email won't be too bad.
Ten hours later, I had received five different sales pitches from the agent showing that house.
I unregistered.
Idiots!
.
Last night I went to Remax.com to look at the listing for the house Daughter and Hercules are interested in, and had to register on the site to see the details. During registration, one is told that by registering, one agrees to receive email from agents. Ok, an occasional email won't be too bad.
Ten hours later, I had received five different sales pitches from the agent showing that house.
I unregistered.
Idiots!
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Monday, February 26, 2007
1139 More Snow
Monday, February 26, 2007
I cleared the driveway this afternoon. Then it started snowing again - tiny flakes, gently. I checked the TV weather reports, the weather radio, channel 10 online weather alerts (they brag that they are specific to my mailbox!), and AOL. They all say it will snow off and on all night, but the total accumulation should be less than an inch. I've got over two inches out there now (11:20 pm). We've got the rest of the night to go.
I don't understand.
------------------------------------
The IGA didn't have any cracked corn left, so I bought a bag of sunflower seeds. If the turkeys don't like that, I'll try the Agway for corn tomorrow. I like to keep the wild turkey population high and close because they eat ticks. Anything that eats ticks is worth encouraging. Even if they do wake me up too early.
------------------------------------
Several other bloggers, women only a little younger than I, are all excited about rock concerts, and agonizing about feeling "too old" to go to them. I think maybe I've always been too old.
FirstWoman was very into the music scene in NYC in the late '60s and the '70s, and she asked me the other night if I was familiar with this or that musician. I explained that back then, I was being indoctrinated into The Company, learning how to wear three piece suits and parrot the line. It was a whole different scene.
When Daughter was about fifteen (and I was about 46), she went to her first big concert, held in like a stadium near the city or whatever. Afterward, she asked if I had ever been to a rock concert, and I said, "Well, no, not like yours. In my day, they didn't do these huge things where you can't see and can't hear. It was always in small clubs, or small theaters, or at colleges."
"Well, (condescendingly), did you ever go to any of them?"
"Yeah. A few."
"Anyone I'd recognize?"
"I think you'll recognize one. It was in 1968, a small room in the Armory in Kingston, maybe 200 people. I was in the third or fourth row. Folding chairs set up on the floor, close to a very small very low stage."
"Well, who was it?"
(...drum roll, please ...)
"Jimmi Hendrix."
"Wow!" She was very impressed. Even a little jealous. Suddenly her mother's "cool factor" shot way up, and even more when I admitted that "Yes, he did destroy a guitar. A piece flew right past my head."
(I was equally impressed that she knew who Jimmi Hendrix was!)
I saw Herbie Hancock at about the same time, at the performing arts center, but she didn't know who he was. And a bunch of well known folk singers, which were more my style anyway, but who were unknown to Daughter.
--------------------------------------------
You know, if Jimmi were still alive and still performing, she wouldn't have been so impressed. I guess it's better to have seen a legend than an institution, and better to be an institution than a legend.
.
I cleared the driveway this afternoon. Then it started snowing again - tiny flakes, gently. I checked the TV weather reports, the weather radio, channel 10 online weather alerts (they brag that they are specific to my mailbox!), and AOL. They all say it will snow off and on all night, but the total accumulation should be less than an inch. I've got over two inches out there now (11:20 pm). We've got the rest of the night to go.
I don't understand.
------------------------------------
The IGA didn't have any cracked corn left, so I bought a bag of sunflower seeds. If the turkeys don't like that, I'll try the Agway for corn tomorrow. I like to keep the wild turkey population high and close because they eat ticks. Anything that eats ticks is worth encouraging. Even if they do wake me up too early.
------------------------------------
Several other bloggers, women only a little younger than I, are all excited about rock concerts, and agonizing about feeling "too old" to go to them. I think maybe I've always been too old.
FirstWoman was very into the music scene in NYC in the late '60s and the '70s, and she asked me the other night if I was familiar with this or that musician. I explained that back then, I was being indoctrinated into The Company, learning how to wear three piece suits and parrot the line. It was a whole different scene.
When Daughter was about fifteen (and I was about 46), she went to her first big concert, held in like a stadium near the city or whatever. Afterward, she asked if I had ever been to a rock concert, and I said, "Well, no, not like yours. In my day, they didn't do these huge things where you can't see and can't hear. It was always in small clubs, or small theaters, or at colleges."
"Well, (condescendingly), did you ever go to any of them?"
"Yeah. A few."
"Anyone I'd recognize?"
"I think you'll recognize one. It was in 1968, a small room in the Armory in Kingston, maybe 200 people. I was in the third or fourth row. Folding chairs set up on the floor, close to a very small very low stage."
"Well, who was it?"
(...drum roll, please ...)
"Jimmi Hendrix."
"Wow!" She was very impressed. Even a little jealous. Suddenly her mother's "cool factor" shot way up, and even more when I admitted that "Yes, he did destroy a guitar. A piece flew right past my head."
(I was equally impressed that she knew who Jimmi Hendrix was!)
I saw Herbie Hancock at about the same time, at the performing arts center, but she didn't know who he was. And a bunch of well known folk singers, which were more my style anyway, but who were unknown to Daughter.
--------------------------------------------
You know, if Jimmi were still alive and still performing, she wouldn't have been so impressed. I guess it's better to have seen a legend than an institution, and better to be an institution than a legend.
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1138 Piper's Foot
Monday, February 26, 2007
Got a call from Piper, "Got the tax stuff together?" Aaagh! He's giving me 'til Wednesday, then he's getting tough.
He broke his left foot. Badly. He's in a big cast, crutches, can't drive. His vehicles are both standard, and he can't use the clutch. His lady and Vinnie are driving him around. I told him he could call on me, too.
Since the call, I got an idea. My Aerio is automatic. He's got a cute little VW beetle. Since I know how he drives, I might want to think about it a little more, but maybe we could trade cars for the next six weeks. (He wanders all over the road, it's scary, and he brags that he can make it to East Fishkill in 40 minutes. That drive takes 55 minutes at the speed limit. On the other hand, he hasn't had any accidents.... I wonder what my legal/insurance exposure is if I lend him my car and something happens.)
.
Got a call from Piper, "Got the tax stuff together?" Aaagh! He's giving me 'til Wednesday, then he's getting tough.
He broke his left foot. Badly. He's in a big cast, crutches, can't drive. His vehicles are both standard, and he can't use the clutch. His lady and Vinnie are driving him around. I told him he could call on me, too.
Since the call, I got an idea. My Aerio is automatic. He's got a cute little VW beetle. Since I know how he drives, I might want to think about it a little more, but maybe we could trade cars for the next six weeks. (He wanders all over the road, it's scary, and he brags that he can make it to East Fishkill in 40 minutes. That drive takes 55 minutes at the speed limit. On the other hand, he hasn't had any accidents.... I wonder what my legal/insurance exposure is if I lend him my car and something happens.)
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1137 Turkeys
Monday, February 26, 2007
We got four or five inches of snow overnight, and I was awakened early this morning by the turkeys. There are twenty or thirty wild turkeys in my front and side yard, and they've been there all morning. They are huge, footprints are almost as long as mine, and they are loud!
I think they may be eating the pits from the wild cherry trees in the side yard. Those pits are dangerous on the driveway - they're like ball bearings. By September it's easy to slide down the driveway on them. But I don't think there's many left by now.
I'll be going out to clear the snow in a few minutes, and that'll probably chase them away. As soon as I can get out, I think I'll go to the village and buy some cracked corn for them, spread it on the cleared driveway. I don't like hearing them at 7 am, but I like watching them, and I'm glad they're doing so well.
.
We got four or five inches of snow overnight, and I was awakened early this morning by the turkeys. There are twenty or thirty wild turkeys in my front and side yard, and they've been there all morning. They are huge, footprints are almost as long as mine, and they are loud!
I think they may be eating the pits from the wild cherry trees in the side yard. Those pits are dangerous on the driveway - they're like ball bearings. By September it's easy to slide down the driveway on them. But I don't think there's many left by now.
I'll be going out to clear the snow in a few minutes, and that'll probably chase them away. As soon as I can get out, I think I'll go to the village and buy some cracked corn for them, spread it on the cleared driveway. I don't like hearing them at 7 am, but I like watching them, and I'm glad they're doing so well.
.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
1136 Annoying Stock
Sunday, February 25, 2007
I canceled a planned outing with FirstWoman last night because I was tired, frustrated, and full of inertia. I just didn't want to make the effort. I canceled rollerskating with Angie this evening for the same reason.
I'm frustrated and feeling guilty because I've got so much to do, and it's not getting done. Every time I start something from the "to do" list, something happens and I get sidetracked.
This afternoon I decided I MUST start pulling together the tax stuff for The Angel, and start looking into selling more stock for Piper's planned portfolio balancing. The first thing I picked up from the financial bin was a proxy packet from my favorite stock.
This particular stock is one that I have told Piper I will not sell! No way! Not for nuthin! I like it! The stock has gone up steadily for the past six years - it is now worth more than five times what it was in 2000, and it pays good dividends. He agrees that I'd be crazy to sell it - in fact, I should buy more.
The company is being "acquired". A smaller company in the same industry is going to buy it out for 26 billion dollars. For each of our shares, we stockholders will get .67 share of the smaller company, and a bunch of cash.
I am being asked to vote my shares, for or against the acquisition.
Naturally, I need more info.
Three hours, and a trip around the internet, later, I voted a resounding NO!!! (Not that I have enough stock for them to notice....)
First of all, I will end up with 1/3 of my investment in equity, and 2/3 in cash on which I will have to pay capital gains tax. I would prefer a straight stock trade. Gimme a bunch of yours for all of mine. This deal amounts to selling 2/3 of a stock I never wanted to sell at all. I could turn around and buy more stock, but I'd still be out the tax.
Since the announcement, my company's stock has continued its rise, but the stock of the smaller company has fallen. Analysts seem to think that it is a "fair" offer to the stockholders, since .67 share of the smaller company plus the cash offered equals slightly higher than the current price of my company, BUT, and here's the scary part, most of them think that the smaller company is going to hurt themselves badly, that they really can't afford the 26 billion. So those ".67 share"s could be worth even less in the future, even though after the acquisition, it will be the largest company in the world in this industry. (A giant, but an injured giant.)
I am exceedingly annoyed.
That, The Amazing Race, and several phone calls, absorbed the afternoon and evening.
-----------------------------
Daughter and Hercules have been househunting in central NJ. Yesterday she said that they'd found the perfect house, and they had submitted an offer. The house had been on the market only one day. Today she called and said that someone else had submitted a bid, too, and it had apparently been accepted, even though their offer was probably higher. I wish I knew more about NJ real estate law, and how offers should be presented.
Emotional roller coaster for the kids. This is the second time that's happened to them in the past month.
I advised her to leave their offer "live" while they continue looking. The other buyers' deal may fall through. Besides, the real estate market is in decline, and in six months they may be able to get more house for the same money.
.
I canceled a planned outing with FirstWoman last night because I was tired, frustrated, and full of inertia. I just didn't want to make the effort. I canceled rollerskating with Angie this evening for the same reason.
I'm frustrated and feeling guilty because I've got so much to do, and it's not getting done. Every time I start something from the "to do" list, something happens and I get sidetracked.
This afternoon I decided I MUST start pulling together the tax stuff for The Angel, and start looking into selling more stock for Piper's planned portfolio balancing. The first thing I picked up from the financial bin was a proxy packet from my favorite stock.
This particular stock is one that I have told Piper I will not sell! No way! Not for nuthin! I like it! The stock has gone up steadily for the past six years - it is now worth more than five times what it was in 2000, and it pays good dividends. He agrees that I'd be crazy to sell it - in fact, I should buy more.
The company is being "acquired". A smaller company in the same industry is going to buy it out for 26 billion dollars. For each of our shares, we stockholders will get .67 share of the smaller company, and a bunch of cash.
I am being asked to vote my shares, for or against the acquisition.
Naturally, I need more info.
Three hours, and a trip around the internet, later, I voted a resounding NO!!! (Not that I have enough stock for them to notice....)
First of all, I will end up with 1/3 of my investment in equity, and 2/3 in cash on which I will have to pay capital gains tax. I would prefer a straight stock trade. Gimme a bunch of yours for all of mine. This deal amounts to selling 2/3 of a stock I never wanted to sell at all. I could turn around and buy more stock, but I'd still be out the tax.
Since the announcement, my company's stock has continued its rise, but the stock of the smaller company has fallen. Analysts seem to think that it is a "fair" offer to the stockholders, since .67 share of the smaller company plus the cash offered equals slightly higher than the current price of my company, BUT, and here's the scary part, most of them think that the smaller company is going to hurt themselves badly, that they really can't afford the 26 billion. So those ".67 share"s could be worth even less in the future, even though after the acquisition, it will be the largest company in the world in this industry. (A giant, but an injured giant.)
I am exceedingly annoyed.
That, The Amazing Race, and several phone calls, absorbed the afternoon and evening.
-----------------------------
Daughter and Hercules have been househunting in central NJ. Yesterday she said that they'd found the perfect house, and they had submitted an offer. The house had been on the market only one day. Today she called and said that someone else had submitted a bid, too, and it had apparently been accepted, even though their offer was probably higher. I wish I knew more about NJ real estate law, and how offers should be presented.
Emotional roller coaster for the kids. This is the second time that's happened to them in the past month.
I advised her to leave their offer "live" while they continue looking. The other buyers' deal may fall through. Besides, the real estate market is in decline, and in six months they may be able to get more house for the same money.
.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
1135 Old Dailies
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Whoop! I got up early enough to take stuff to the recycle center today. About 40 lbs of glass, a large bag of plastic, two grocery bags of newspaper, and two of "clean" paper. And an 18" stack of flattened corrugated boxes. I can move in the kitchen again.
I don't understand where all those boxes came from - one from the shredder, one from the new TV, a few book purchases from Amazon, but the rest? I don't know.
------------------------------------
Looking for a small spiral notebook to take to the museum yesterday, I found my Dailies from 1999 and 2000. I used to write down every evening what had happened that day. I'd done that for years. No philosophizing, no opinions, just a list of things done. At the bottom of each page I made a list of "to do"s for the next day. It worked well. I was always able to look back to see when orders were placed, forms mailed, items bought, errands run. Looking through them, I am amazed at how much I accomplished every day.
The Dailies were not kept after December 2000, because things got so hectic with Jay's illness that I lived by little slips of paper and file folders, and I spent very little time at home. Mostly I was in hospitals, on the phone, or on the road. And then after Jay died, I never got back to it. Maybe I should restart. It might get my tail in gear again.
The 2000 Daily has reminded me of how strange Jay was in 2000. I had forgotten.
In May 2000, he decided to cut back the raspberries spreading into the yard from the woods. I happened to glance outside and found that he was cutting everything, including good shrubs, young trees, flowers, everything. Like his mind said "Cut", and the governor was off.
Along about July he started changing lightbulbs. If you didn't keep him occupied with other stuff, if he got to loose ends, he'd start changing light bulbs. When we went to the store, he'd insist on buying more light bulbs. The bulbs weren't burned out - I'd retrieve them from the garbage - it's just like he'd forget to flip the light switch, decide the bulb was out, and replace it. That explains why I now have a few hundred light bulbs in the pantry. Funny how I'd forgotten that.
We used to go to garage sales on weekends. I'd drive and he'd navigate. Along about August he lost the ability to read maps. He could find streets on the map and trace the route to get there, but he couldn't apply it to the roads we were on. We'd come up to a "Y", and I'd ask "Which way?", and he couldn't figure it out. About this same time he could no longer read a calendar, or do the binary search required to find a word in the dictionary. And no matter where we went, even just up the road to the deli, he thought we had crossed the river.
In September, he lost doors and drawers. If they were closed, they became solid walls to him. He didn't know how to get to the other side of them, or in some cases, that there even was anything on the other side. If you opened them for him, he'd leave them open, even the shower stall door. He couldn't figure out how to keep the water in the shower stall.
In late September, he sometimes got lost in the house. If he was tired, he couldn't find the bedroom from the dining room. We didn't dare close bathroom doors.
It was in October that he woke me in the middle of the night to tell me that there was someone else in bed with us. I asked who, where, and he pointed to his left arm and whispered "There. That's his arm." He didn't recognize his left arm. He could move it, use the hand to pick things up, but didn't recognize it, which was very confusing to him. He kept hitting it, like he wanted it to go away.
By November he could no longer dress himself. He would dress his right side, but neglect the left, and of course his clothing wouldn't stay on, and he couldn't figure out why not. He looked so cute coming out to the kitchen for breakfast with his robe on his right side, the belt tied neatly around his waist, but the left side completely naked, and the left half of the robe dragging on the floor behind him. By December, however, he couldn't remember how to tie a knot, so the robe wouldn't stay on at all.
And yet, some parts of his mind were as sharp as ever. It was during this time that he completed work on the invention application (the one that was finally granted last fall), and his old workmates still depended on him for telephone consultation on highly technical matters.
Some things were lost, well, more like hidden, since his logical powers didn't work in the hidden areas, but what hadn't been lost was as good as ever.
------------------------------
I read an ad for a toy that "flies as far as a football field". I'm wondering, just how far can a football field fly?
.
Whoop! I got up early enough to take stuff to the recycle center today. About 40 lbs of glass, a large bag of plastic, two grocery bags of newspaper, and two of "clean" paper. And an 18" stack of flattened corrugated boxes. I can move in the kitchen again.
I don't understand where all those boxes came from - one from the shredder, one from the new TV, a few book purchases from Amazon, but the rest? I don't know.
------------------------------------
Looking for a small spiral notebook to take to the museum yesterday, I found my Dailies from 1999 and 2000. I used to write down every evening what had happened that day. I'd done that for years. No philosophizing, no opinions, just a list of things done. At the bottom of each page I made a list of "to do"s for the next day. It worked well. I was always able to look back to see when orders were placed, forms mailed, items bought, errands run. Looking through them, I am amazed at how much I accomplished every day.
The Dailies were not kept after December 2000, because things got so hectic with Jay's illness that I lived by little slips of paper and file folders, and I spent very little time at home. Mostly I was in hospitals, on the phone, or on the road. And then after Jay died, I never got back to it. Maybe I should restart. It might get my tail in gear again.
The 2000 Daily has reminded me of how strange Jay was in 2000. I had forgotten.
In May 2000, he decided to cut back the raspberries spreading into the yard from the woods. I happened to glance outside and found that he was cutting everything, including good shrubs, young trees, flowers, everything. Like his mind said "Cut", and the governor was off.
Along about July he started changing lightbulbs. If you didn't keep him occupied with other stuff, if he got to loose ends, he'd start changing light bulbs. When we went to the store, he'd insist on buying more light bulbs. The bulbs weren't burned out - I'd retrieve them from the garbage - it's just like he'd forget to flip the light switch, decide the bulb was out, and replace it. That explains why I now have a few hundred light bulbs in the pantry. Funny how I'd forgotten that.
We used to go to garage sales on weekends. I'd drive and he'd navigate. Along about August he lost the ability to read maps. He could find streets on the map and trace the route to get there, but he couldn't apply it to the roads we were on. We'd come up to a "Y", and I'd ask "Which way?", and he couldn't figure it out. About this same time he could no longer read a calendar, or do the binary search required to find a word in the dictionary. And no matter where we went, even just up the road to the deli, he thought we had crossed the river.
In September, he lost doors and drawers. If they were closed, they became solid walls to him. He didn't know how to get to the other side of them, or in some cases, that there even was anything on the other side. If you opened them for him, he'd leave them open, even the shower stall door. He couldn't figure out how to keep the water in the shower stall.
In late September, he sometimes got lost in the house. If he was tired, he couldn't find the bedroom from the dining room. We didn't dare close bathroom doors.
It was in October that he woke me in the middle of the night to tell me that there was someone else in bed with us. I asked who, where, and he pointed to his left arm and whispered "There. That's his arm." He didn't recognize his left arm. He could move it, use the hand to pick things up, but didn't recognize it, which was very confusing to him. He kept hitting it, like he wanted it to go away.
By November he could no longer dress himself. He would dress his right side, but neglect the left, and of course his clothing wouldn't stay on, and he couldn't figure out why not. He looked so cute coming out to the kitchen for breakfast with his robe on his right side, the belt tied neatly around his waist, but the left side completely naked, and the left half of the robe dragging on the floor behind him. By December, however, he couldn't remember how to tie a knot, so the robe wouldn't stay on at all.
And yet, some parts of his mind were as sharp as ever. It was during this time that he completed work on the invention application (the one that was finally granted last fall), and his old workmates still depended on him for telephone consultation on highly technical matters.
Some things were lost, well, more like hidden, since his logical powers didn't work in the hidden areas, but what hadn't been lost was as good as ever.
------------------------------
I read an ad for a toy that "flies as far as a football field". I'm wondering, just how far can a football field fly?
.
1134 Apes, and a Gay Impersonator
[Later edit - minor grammar correction. Ignore.]
Ya gotta read http://dilbertblog.typepad.com/ the_dilbert_blog/2007/02/disturbing_deve.html. Funny, and right on. We have hit a technological wall!
-----------------------------
I walked out to the kitchen, where the TV was still tuned to channel 45 CW. An old rerun of Will and Grace was on. I never cared for that show because I find the outrageous stereotyping annoying (Jack, the black-haired broad, and Grace - but Will is ok). I happened to see Jack clasp his hands and turn down the corners of his mouth as he waggled his head, and a light bulb went on in my head.
There's a certain woman in Mensa whom I can't be around for more than an hour or two. She actually has a good heart, wouldn't hurt anyone, a very nice incredibly inconsistent overly emotional drama queen playing for attention and sympathy. (She's the one who insisted on sitting in the smoking section of the hotel lobby in New Orleans and then yelled at people for smoking near her, telling us a story about how at work one day some people had gone outside for a cigarette and when they came back in the smoke on their clothing literally caused her to faint, to fall on the floor, later at dinner she insisted that the casino provide a private dining room because her allergy to the smoke would be dangerous, and then spent the rest of the evening happily playing the slots in the main casino, where the smoke was so thick it burned my eyes and made me sneeze and I had to leave. Yeah, her. That one. The one I want to shake some sense into. The one who feeds her cats by putting the opened can on the floor, without even stirring it, because she doesn't want to have to wash any dishes or utensils, and doesn't think about cut kitty tongues. Her.)
Well, anyway, when I saw Jack simpering, overdoing it, I suddenly realized (having just been with her at dinner Thursday evening) that ALL of her mannerisms are EXACTLY like Jack's. Her extreme facial expressions, hand motions, shoulder and chin movements, are exactly the stereotypical mannerisms of a gay guy trying too hard to be what he thinks is femininely cutesy-poo!
I never noticed that before.
I was fascinated, and actually watched the stupid show. Jack is she! She is Jack! (Except that she's a lot bigger, tends to mix plaids, and slumps a lot.) Maybe she could get a job as a female impersonator impersonator.
.
Ya gotta read http://dilbertblog.typepad.com/ the_dilbert_blog/2007/02/disturbing_deve.html. Funny, and right on. We have hit a technological wall!
-----------------------------
I walked out to the kitchen, where the TV was still tuned to channel 45 CW. An old rerun of Will and Grace was on. I never cared for that show because I find the outrageous stereotyping annoying (Jack, the black-haired broad, and Grace - but Will is ok). I happened to see Jack clasp his hands and turn down the corners of his mouth as he waggled his head, and a light bulb went on in my head.
There's a certain woman in Mensa whom I can't be around for more than an hour or two. She actually has a good heart, wouldn't hurt anyone, a very nice incredibly inconsistent overly emotional drama queen playing for attention and sympathy. (She's the one who insisted on sitting in the smoking section of the hotel lobby in New Orleans and then yelled at people for smoking near her, telling us a story about how at work one day some people had gone outside for a cigarette and when they came back in the smoke on their clothing literally caused her to faint, to fall on the floor, later at dinner she insisted that the casino provide a private dining room because her allergy to the smoke would be dangerous, and then spent the rest of the evening happily playing the slots in the main casino, where the smoke was so thick it burned my eyes and made me sneeze and I had to leave. Yeah, her. That one. The one I want to shake some sense into. The one who feeds her cats by putting the opened can on the floor, without even stirring it, because she doesn't want to have to wash any dishes or utensils, and doesn't think about cut kitty tongues. Her.)
Well, anyway, when I saw Jack simpering, overdoing it, I suddenly realized (having just been with her at dinner Thursday evening) that ALL of her mannerisms are EXACTLY like Jack's. Her extreme facial expressions, hand motions, shoulder and chin movements, are exactly the stereotypical mannerisms of a gay guy trying too hard to be what he thinks is femininely cutesy-poo!
I never noticed that before.
I was fascinated, and actually watched the stupid show. Jack is she! She is Jack! (Except that she's a lot bigger, tends to mix plaids, and slumps a lot.) Maybe she could get a job as a female impersonator impersonator.
.
Friday, February 23, 2007
1133 Eclectic Correction
Friday, February 23, 2007
Correction - got a terse email from Roman. He said he would have been at the dinner last night, but he was teaching a class. I'm confused. I thought all his February evening classes had been canceled for insufficient enrollment.
.
Correction - got a terse email from Roman. He said he would have been at the dinner last night, but he was teaching a class. I'm confused. I thought all his February evening classes had been canceled for insufficient enrollment.
.
1132 Museum Membership Duties
Friday, February 23, 2007
I went to the Maritime Museum today to learn my duties as "keeper of the membership database". I was there a hair over four hours, and I've got a handle now on sending out the renewal reminder letters, and handling the renewals as they come in, what goes to whom, and what records and files get updated.
I go back on Wednesday to learn about sending out the membership cards and premiums. The way it's set up now, it's a big job. I'm hoping I can streamline it some. From what I hear, it's a lot better now than it was a year or two ago, so I think the powers will be amenable to further improvement. I'll need to follow the current procedure for a while, to see the bits of wisdom that must be kept. (They're using Lotus, and that's about the only common application I haven't taken a class in. Bleck.)
I'd like to see automated alerts, for example, and addresses printed directly on envelopes and forms, instead of printing, peeling, and sticking expensive labels. We sent out 58 reminders today and almost one man-hour was sticking labels.
There are certain parts of the job that I have already told folks that I refuse to do. I will NOT be in charge of getting and/or maintaining second class or bulk mail permits. I flatly refuse to have anything to do with the post office people, beyond dropping off items. As an unpaid volunteer, I feel that I have a right to set my boundaries. The folks to whom you pay a salary have to do what they're told - I don't, I won't, and if you don't like it, fire me.
I'm not comfortable with applying for matching corporate grants on membership dues, either (I don't know if anyone has ever figured out what percent of the dues is donation and what is benefit, and I think there's a legal exposure there), but we won't get into the process for that until next Wednesday, so I'll reserve judgment until then.
Not much else today. ATM, groceries. Ate yogurt for breakfast, an orange for lunch, and the other half of Wednesday's chicken salad veggie wrap for dinner. I can't remember the last time I cooked something. Most of the dishes in the sink are Miss Thunderfoot's (she doesn't "do" dishes, you know, or any housework, for that matter).
Piper left a phone message, wants to know if I've got the tax stuff together yet. Sigh. I guess tomorrow I'll have to spread papers on the bed and just DO IT! It'll take only maybe three hours, but I have trouble getting started.
.
I went to the Maritime Museum today to learn my duties as "keeper of the membership database". I was there a hair over four hours, and I've got a handle now on sending out the renewal reminder letters, and handling the renewals as they come in, what goes to whom, and what records and files get updated.
I go back on Wednesday to learn about sending out the membership cards and premiums. The way it's set up now, it's a big job. I'm hoping I can streamline it some. From what I hear, it's a lot better now than it was a year or two ago, so I think the powers will be amenable to further improvement. I'll need to follow the current procedure for a while, to see the bits of wisdom that must be kept. (They're using Lotus, and that's about the only common application I haven't taken a class in. Bleck.)
I'd like to see automated alerts, for example, and addresses printed directly on envelopes and forms, instead of printing, peeling, and sticking expensive labels. We sent out 58 reminders today and almost one man-hour was sticking labels.
There are certain parts of the job that I have already told folks that I refuse to do. I will NOT be in charge of getting and/or maintaining second class or bulk mail permits. I flatly refuse to have anything to do with the post office people, beyond dropping off items. As an unpaid volunteer, I feel that I have a right to set my boundaries. The folks to whom you pay a salary have to do what they're told - I don't, I won't, and if you don't like it, fire me.
I'm not comfortable with applying for matching corporate grants on membership dues, either (I don't know if anyone has ever figured out what percent of the dues is donation and what is benefit, and I think there's a legal exposure there), but we won't get into the process for that until next Wednesday, so I'll reserve judgment until then.
Not much else today. ATM, groceries. Ate yogurt for breakfast, an orange for lunch, and the other half of Wednesday's chicken salad veggie wrap for dinner. I can't remember the last time I cooked something. Most of the dishes in the sink are Miss Thunderfoot's (she doesn't "do" dishes, you know, or any housework, for that matter).
Piper left a phone message, wants to know if I've got the tax stuff together yet. Sigh. I guess tomorrow I'll have to spread papers on the bed and just DO IT! It'll take only maybe three hours, but I have trouble getting started.
.
1131
| Your Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence |
 You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well. An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly. You are also good at remembering information and convincing someone of your point of view. A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary. You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator. |
1130 Appearances Are Deceiving
Friday, February 23, 2007, 2 am
I haven't been feeling all that great lately. I'm not getting things done that need doing, and I'm not making any progress in what I want in my life. I'm feeling frustrated. But oddly, I don't think I've looked so good in at least ten years. I'm looking pretty darn good, in fact. Even with those stubborn last 15 pounds. At the Eclectic dinner, a woman across the table said that I looked beautiful tonight, and others agreed with her.
I'm not feeling beautiful. I'm feeling sad. I'm feeling old. I'm feeling like the years are ticking away, and I'm losing them. I think I need an intimate someone to take care of. So where is the glow coming from? It's not supposed to work like this.
I don't understand.
I haven't been feeling all that great lately. I'm not getting things done that need doing, and I'm not making any progress in what I want in my life. I'm feeling frustrated. But oddly, I don't think I've looked so good in at least ten years. I'm looking pretty darn good, in fact. Even with those stubborn last 15 pounds. At the Eclectic dinner, a woman across the table said that I looked beautiful tonight, and others agreed with her.
I'm not feeling beautiful. I'm feeling sad. I'm feeling old. I'm feeling like the years are ticking away, and I'm losing them. I think I need an intimate someone to take care of. So where is the glow coming from? It's not supposed to work like this.
I don't understand.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
1129 Eclectic Dinner
Thursday, February 22, 2007
I delivered more Frolic flyers today, one to 0mega Institute. 0mega is one of those personal development type places, a cluster of buildings and campground in the woods, expensive workshops, heavily into yoga and popular "Buddhism", with heavy doses of inner light. Which is ok if you know what you're talking about, but most of the 0megans I've run into are just plain flakes.
Anyway, starting just beyond Rhinebeck, the roads are full of signs, "0mega -->". I'd never been there before, so I followed the signs. Many many turns later, I found the place. After delivering my flyer, I got out the county map, and figured out where I was. I was annoyed to find that the "-->" signs had added about 30%, 5 miles, to the trip. There was a much shorter and straighter way out. Somehow it fit with my thoughts of the institute and its thought patterns.
Something that didn't fit -
When I started out delivering, it was raining. By the time I got to 0mega, it was snowing. As I walked from the parking lot to the office door, in one spot near the beginning of the walk, and only in that spot, there was a very strange sound, like corn popping. It was the snow hitting the walk, maybe there was ice in the snow, but why in only that spot? I looked, and just at the edges of wherever I was looking, there were tiny explosions as something hit the ground, and that's what was causing the popping sound. Whatever hit the walk was exploding. Nowhere else but that one spot.
When I left the building, I stopped at the end of the walk again to listen and try to figure it out. Another woman, an 0mega employee, left the building, and as she approached me, I said "Listen. Can you hear that popping sound? Isn't that strange? It's only right here." She said "Oh, it's probably just hail" and kept on walking. No interest.
Who was the true 0megan?
Tonight was another Mensa dinner. It used to be the Ethnic dinner, but they've changed it to the Eclectic dinner, because we were running out of acceptable ethnic restaurants. There were nine of us tonight. Roman wasn't there, which is unusual. I don't know that he's ever missed an "E" dinner unless he was teaching an evening class, and he didn't have a class tonight. Since I told him what I thought of The Duchess last Thursday, I've sent him one newsy email, and received a pleasant response, and when I didn't get the usual call Tuesday or Wednesday night, I figured it was because he figured he'd see me at the dinner. So, perhaps I really did finally blow it. Or maybe he had to go to LI on estate business. Oh, well. Get used to it, Silk.
.
I delivered more Frolic flyers today, one to 0mega Institute. 0mega is one of those personal development type places, a cluster of buildings and campground in the woods, expensive workshops, heavily into yoga and popular "Buddhism", with heavy doses of inner light. Which is ok if you know what you're talking about, but most of the 0megans I've run into are just plain flakes.
Anyway, starting just beyond Rhinebeck, the roads are full of signs, "0mega -->". I'd never been there before, so I followed the signs. Many many turns later, I found the place. After delivering my flyer, I got out the county map, and figured out where I was. I was annoyed to find that the "-->" signs had added about 30%, 5 miles, to the trip. There was a much shorter and straighter way out. Somehow it fit with my thoughts of the institute and its thought patterns.
Something that didn't fit -
When I started out delivering, it was raining. By the time I got to 0mega, it was snowing. As I walked from the parking lot to the office door, in one spot near the beginning of the walk, and only in that spot, there was a very strange sound, like corn popping. It was the snow hitting the walk, maybe there was ice in the snow, but why in only that spot? I looked, and just at the edges of wherever I was looking, there were tiny explosions as something hit the ground, and that's what was causing the popping sound. Whatever hit the walk was exploding. Nowhere else but that one spot.
When I left the building, I stopped at the end of the walk again to listen and try to figure it out. Another woman, an 0mega employee, left the building, and as she approached me, I said "Listen. Can you hear that popping sound? Isn't that strange? It's only right here." She said "Oh, it's probably just hail" and kept on walking. No interest.
Who was the true 0megan?
Tonight was another Mensa dinner. It used to be the Ethnic dinner, but they've changed it to the Eclectic dinner, because we were running out of acceptable ethnic restaurants. There were nine of us tonight. Roman wasn't there, which is unusual. I don't know that he's ever missed an "E" dinner unless he was teaching an evening class, and he didn't have a class tonight. Since I told him what I thought of The Duchess last Thursday, I've sent him one newsy email, and received a pleasant response, and when I didn't get the usual call Tuesday or Wednesday night, I figured it was because he figured he'd see me at the dinner. So, perhaps I really did finally blow it. Or maybe he had to go to LI on estate business. Oh, well. Get used to it, Silk.
.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
1128 Spring-like Day
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
It was in the mid-40s outside today, our first day above freezing since early January. I took the garbage down the drive without a jacket on, and I wasn't cold. No wind, and warm sun. The sound of snow melting.
At the Frolic last Saturday, the organizer was asking for people to post flyers in different areas, and when he came to my area (the "other" side of the river), no one volunteered, so, naturally....
Today I posted Frolic flyers at the local college, and a dance studio, a cafe, and a health food store in the village. Tomorrow I'll post some in the next village down the road.
I took a shopping list with me - things to buy at the pharmacy and the grocery store. I've been building that list for a week, things it would be so easy to forget. Neither my sweater nor pants had pockets, so I folded the list and stuck it in my bra. Somewhere along the line it must have jiggled out. I wonder what the people in the pharmacy parking lot thought of the woman peering into and feeling around in her bra through the v-neck of her sweater. Just the monthly lump-detection, folks. Multitasking. Ignore.
I went to the first session of the Ballroom Dancing class tonight. There were seven men, all of whom had come with a partner, and seven additional women without partners, including me. Not cool. Oh, and that reminds me of another weird thing about me (see previous post) - I have absolutely no sense of rhythm. I can't "feel" the music. I see very little difference between "one two three one two three" and "one two three four one two three four". I mean, they all go evenly into twelve, right?
'Nother weird thing (result of a trip to the refrigerator), I've been known to put mustard on pizza. And I put salt on cantaloupe. And I own eleven different musical instruments and I can't play any of them. I just tune them once a year.
Ok. I'm weird.
It was in the mid-40s outside today, our first day above freezing since early January. I took the garbage down the drive without a jacket on, and I wasn't cold. No wind, and warm sun. The sound of snow melting.
At the Frolic last Saturday, the organizer was asking for people to post flyers in different areas, and when he came to my area (the "other" side of the river), no one volunteered, so, naturally....
Today I posted Frolic flyers at the local college, and a dance studio, a cafe, and a health food store in the village. Tomorrow I'll post some in the next village down the road.
I took a shopping list with me - things to buy at the pharmacy and the grocery store. I've been building that list for a week, things it would be so easy to forget. Neither my sweater nor pants had pockets, so I folded the list and stuck it in my bra. Somewhere along the line it must have jiggled out. I wonder what the people in the pharmacy parking lot thought of the woman peering into and feeling around in her bra through the v-neck of her sweater. Just the monthly lump-detection, folks. Multitasking. Ignore.
I went to the first session of the Ballroom Dancing class tonight. There were seven men, all of whom had come with a partner, and seven additional women without partners, including me. Not cool. Oh, and that reminds me of another weird thing about me (see previous post) - I have absolutely no sense of rhythm. I can't "feel" the music. I see very little difference between "one two three one two three" and "one two three four one two three four". I mean, they all go evenly into twelve, right?
'Nother weird thing (result of a trip to the refrigerator), I've been known to put mustard on pizza. And I put salt on cantaloupe. And I own eleven different musical instruments and I can't play any of them. I just tune them once a year.
Ok. I'm weird.
1127 Tagged!
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
I have been tagged! Wow! I've never been tagged before! A first!
Becs, of "Becs Again", at http://becsagain.blogspot.com/2007/02/im-it.html, has challenged me to reveal six weird things about me.
Having read The Queen's weird things, I don't think I've got a lot to offer. I KNEW I shouldn't have read hers first! Now I feel so boringly normal.
Let's see - my main problem here is that I've already 'fessed up to so much in these pages, there's not much left.
I have been tagged! Wow! I've never been tagged before! A first!
Becs, of "Becs Again", at http://becsagain.blogspot.com/2007/02/im-it.html, has challenged me to reveal six weird things about me.
Having read The Queen's weird things, I don't think I've got a lot to offer. I KNEW I shouldn't have read hers first! Now I feel so boringly normal.
Let's see - my main problem here is that I've already 'fessed up to so much in these pages, there's not much left.
- In contrast to Becs, I can't sleep alone in a dark room. I even take a low-wattage nightlight with me to hotels. I always put the nightlight behind something, so there's just a glow on the wall. Most nights at home I fall asleep with the reading lamp on, a pillow under my tummy, and my face in a book or a crossword puzzle I've cut out of the newspaper. I wake up with ink on my forehead. One of these days I'll wake up stabbed by the pencil. If I have company, then dark is ok.
- I didn't know why I had a period until I was seventeen. I thought it was because things were "developing" in there, and I expected it to stop as soon as I finished growing up.
- I have strange tastes in men. I like to look at guys like George Clooney, Johnny Depp, or the Korean guy on Lost, but that's all, just look. The ones I want to get to know and touch and maybe even cuddle with are more like Gene Wilder, Anthony Edwards, Morgan Freeman (pant pant!), Jackie Chan, and the like. (I probably spelled some wrong, but I'm not going to look them up.) I guess I like my men a little plain. They seem more masculine to me than the pretty ones.
- I have never ever in my entire life been happy with a professional haircut. The only person who can cut my hair right is me.
- I have no secrets. Anyone can ask me anything, and I'll honestly tell them all.
- My big toes turn up, which makes it hard to wear some shoes, and my second toe is longer than the big toe. The base of all my toes goes straight across my foot, no slant. But people who see them usually remark on how pretty my feet are before they realize that they're rather odd.
1126 Found Feelings
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Wandering around the ether, looking for something else, I accidentally found the following in in Jewit’s blog, “The Insatiable Nomad” I think it's called, in the archives at http://jewit.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_jewit_archive.html.
I tried to search on the words, to find out where they're from, but the only hit was on Jewit's blog, so it may be original to her. I have copied it here because it expresses perfectly how I feel at the moment toward a certain person. (Of course, I reserve the right to change my feelings...)
Is it from Arrowsmith? Anyone know?
Wandering around the ether, looking for something else, I accidentally found the following in in Jewit’s blog, “The Insatiable Nomad” I think it's called, in the archives at http://jewit.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_jewit_archive.html.
I tried to search on the words, to find out where they're from, but the only hit was on Jewit's blog, so it may be original to her. I have copied it here because it expresses perfectly how I feel at the moment toward a certain person. (Of course, I reserve the right to change my feelings...)
Is it from Arrowsmith? Anyone know?
cryin'
you!
i am tired of you
and the things i have to do with you and for you
i am tired of thinking about you
flirting with you
arguing with you
trying to impress you
i am tired of pretending i don't care when i do
i am tired altogether of caring for you
i am tired of the things that you do
sick of the things that you don't
i am tired of loving you
yet i hate hating you
so yes, i love you
but i am sick and tired of you
to the bones
tssssss...
leave
me
alone
go chill out with aerosmith
Monday, February 19, 2007
1125 Saturday, Sunday, Today
Monday, February 19, 2007
I was scheduled to work at the maritime museum on Saturday, from 1 to 5. The museum isn't technically open, but they decided to open for one day during the Rondout's Mardi Gras day.
I was told could wear a costume. I decided to wear a purple renaissance dress, with a floral headpiece, and 10 genuine-from-New-Orleans purple, gold, and green bead necklaces, and Victorian tapestry lace-up high heeled boots. The dress has a wide neck with quilted trim, very long pointed sweeping sleeves with lacing up the upper arms, the ties hanging down to my ankles, and a flared skirt. I love things that swing and flutter when I walk, and this dress flutters all over. Not exactly Mardi Gras style, but I love the dress and never get to wear it, so I grabbed the opportunity.
I looked really good, and got a lot of compliments. Unfortunately, no photos.
So often when I've worked at the museum, there are long periods of nothing happening, so I took some crocheting and a book. In three and a half hours, we had at least 350 people stop in. It was a madhouse. We weren't charging admission because the main gallery wasn't open, so all I had to do was tell people where the bathrooms, children's activities, hot mulled cider, and juggling was, keep count of how many came in, and collect money if anyone bought anything in the shop. I lost count several times, because they were coming through so fast. I sold a lot of postcards, probably 30 t-shirts, several books, and some toys. I've never seen the shop so busy. We also gave away beads and masks.
About halfway through, I found out partly why - the museum is having a big iceboat display for the opening on May 5, including the huge rather famous Roosevelt iceboat. The newspaper blurb on Saturday's activities on the Rondout was badly worded, and it sounded like the iceboats would be there Saturday (which would have made sense - we've got ICE now!). As it was, we had only one small iceboat set up in the side yard. Which didn't satisfy the folks who had come from Vermont and Michigan to see the iceboats. Thud. Oops.
Anyway, I spent about four hours standing and running around in my highest heels (4", which doesn't sound all that bad until you realize that my entire foot is only 8.5"). Since retirement, I have avoided heels over an inch and a half, so I was very tired by 5 pm, when I got the flock out of there before the parade started and they closed the streets and and I'd be stuck there for hours.
Went home, changed clothes, etc, and met FirstWoman at 9 pm at a Freestyle Frolic dance in Kingston. Interesting people there. It's a regular DJ playing club music, but everyone dances (no shoes allowed!) on their own. Partners seemed not only optional, but unnecessary. I tried to get with it, but I just wasn't feeling it. I found a chair along the wall that looked like a throne, and settled in to watch. I think about half the people there were high on something. Late in the evening, the Lady (local bellydancer) and her husband (drummer) arrived, and I enjoyed watching them. (Their sexual energy rolls across one in waves!)
FirstWoman and I went out for food after, and I got home maybe 1 am-ish, I forget.
I will probably go again, maybe once or twice, but it's not going to be a venue where I'm likely to meet a man. I like the nerdy types, and the possibilities there were so far from nerdy.... I mentioned that to FW, and she said, well, where are you most likely to meet nerds? There are computer clubs that meet in Kingston and Poughkeepsie. I attended one once when the topic was something Roman was interested in but he couldn't attend, so I went for him, and later I scolded him, "Why didn't you tell me that's where are the men are?" Maybe I'll get their meeting schedules and check it out again.
I almost didn't go to the frolic, because of the mulled cider. I had been sipping it all afternoon, and then when we were about to close up, Betty said she was going to dump what was left down the drain. It was so good, and cider is good for you, so I thought that would be a shame, and I'd had nothing else to eat all day beyond my breakfast yogurt - so I quickly drank almost a quart of what was actually dregs. Heavily spiced dregs.
It started when I was driving home, the strangest loud noises from my tummy. It got worse. I was afraid to eat anything - more ammunition and all that. I went to the frolic hoping the bathroom would be convenient, but was thankful to find that the ballistics seemed to be over. I do have a fast system - even normal input goes through quickly.
So, that was Saturday. I don't have the faintest idea what I did yesterday, and I don't seem to have done anything today. I'll have to ask the cat.
.
I was scheduled to work at the maritime museum on Saturday, from 1 to 5. The museum isn't technically open, but they decided to open for one day during the Rondout's Mardi Gras day.
I was told could wear a costume. I decided to wear a purple renaissance dress, with a floral headpiece, and 10 genuine-from-New-Orleans purple, gold, and green bead necklaces, and Victorian tapestry lace-up high heeled boots. The dress has a wide neck with quilted trim, very long pointed sweeping sleeves with lacing up the upper arms, the ties hanging down to my ankles, and a flared skirt. I love things that swing and flutter when I walk, and this dress flutters all over. Not exactly Mardi Gras style, but I love the dress and never get to wear it, so I grabbed the opportunity.
I looked really good, and got a lot of compliments. Unfortunately, no photos.
So often when I've worked at the museum, there are long periods of nothing happening, so I took some crocheting and a book. In three and a half hours, we had at least 350 people stop in. It was a madhouse. We weren't charging admission because the main gallery wasn't open, so all I had to do was tell people where the bathrooms, children's activities, hot mulled cider, and juggling was, keep count of how many came in, and collect money if anyone bought anything in the shop. I lost count several times, because they were coming through so fast. I sold a lot of postcards, probably 30 t-shirts, several books, and some toys. I've never seen the shop so busy. We also gave away beads and masks.
About halfway through, I found out partly why - the museum is having a big iceboat display for the opening on May 5, including the huge rather famous Roosevelt iceboat. The newspaper blurb on Saturday's activities on the Rondout was badly worded, and it sounded like the iceboats would be there Saturday (which would have made sense - we've got ICE now!). As it was, we had only one small iceboat set up in the side yard. Which didn't satisfy the folks who had come from Vermont and Michigan to see the iceboats. Thud. Oops.
Anyway, I spent about four hours standing and running around in my highest heels (4", which doesn't sound all that bad until you realize that my entire foot is only 8.5"). Since retirement, I have avoided heels over an inch and a half, so I was very tired by 5 pm, when I got the flock out of there before the parade started and they closed the streets and and I'd be stuck there for hours.
Went home, changed clothes, etc, and met FirstWoman at 9 pm at a Freestyle Frolic dance in Kingston. Interesting people there. It's a regular DJ playing club music, but everyone dances (no shoes allowed!) on their own. Partners seemed not only optional, but unnecessary. I tried to get with it, but I just wasn't feeling it. I found a chair along the wall that looked like a throne, and settled in to watch. I think about half the people there were high on something. Late in the evening, the Lady (local bellydancer) and her husband (drummer) arrived, and I enjoyed watching them. (Their sexual energy rolls across one in waves!)
FirstWoman and I went out for food after, and I got home maybe 1 am-ish, I forget.
I will probably go again, maybe once or twice, but it's not going to be a venue where I'm likely to meet a man. I like the nerdy types, and the possibilities there were so far from nerdy.... I mentioned that to FW, and she said, well, where are you most likely to meet nerds? There are computer clubs that meet in Kingston and Poughkeepsie. I attended one once when the topic was something Roman was interested in but he couldn't attend, so I went for him, and later I scolded him, "Why didn't you tell me that's where are the men are?" Maybe I'll get their meeting schedules and check it out again.
I almost didn't go to the frolic, because of the mulled cider. I had been sipping it all afternoon, and then when we were about to close up, Betty said she was going to dump what was left down the drain. It was so good, and cider is good for you, so I thought that would be a shame, and I'd had nothing else to eat all day beyond my breakfast yogurt - so I quickly drank almost a quart of what was actually dregs. Heavily spiced dregs.
It started when I was driving home, the strangest loud noises from my tummy. It got worse. I was afraid to eat anything - more ammunition and all that. I went to the frolic hoping the bathroom would be convenient, but was thankful to find that the ballistics seemed to be over. I do have a fast system - even normal input goes through quickly.
So, that was Saturday. I don't have the faintest idea what I did yesterday, and I don't seem to have done anything today. I'll have to ask the cat.
.
1124 Birthday Celebration Website
Monday, February 19, 2007
In the local Mensa group, anyone who has a birthday and wants company can host a "Mirthday" party - dinner or dessert for/with anyone who has a birthday that month and anyone else who wants to attend, usually in a restaurant or ice cream parlor. (The lure of food with company will usually draw Mensans.) We eat and sing Happy Birthday and generally embarrass the honorees.
A friend on the west coast who doesn't like being alone on her birthday has decided to set up a website for similar networking. You can sign up, register your birthday, and find out if anyone else in your area would like to get together to share a birthday celebration. The site is only two weeks old, and hasn't been "discovered", so her daughter-in-law has asked if I'd advertise it here.
Go to http://bornado.com/.
Pass it on.
.
In the local Mensa group, anyone who has a birthday and wants company can host a "Mirthday" party - dinner or dessert for/with anyone who has a birthday that month and anyone else who wants to attend, usually in a restaurant or ice cream parlor. (The lure of food with company will usually draw Mensans.) We eat and sing Happy Birthday and generally embarrass the honorees.
A friend on the west coast who doesn't like being alone on her birthday has decided to set up a website for similar networking. You can sign up, register your birthday, and find out if anyone else in your area would like to get together to share a birthday celebration. The site is only two weeks old, and hasn't been "discovered", so her daughter-in-law has asked if I'd advertise it here.
Go to http://bornado.com/.
Pass it on.
.
1123 Some Super Maps
Monday, February 19, 2007
A map showing the spread of the world's major religions, by major portion of the population over the past 5,000 years, is at http://www.mapsofwar.com/. Fascinating! I didn't realize that Hinduism is that old, but I guess if I'd thought about it, I'd have figured it out.
Scroll down a bit and you'll find the link to "Imperial History", which illustrates the spread of political control. I'd never even heard of the Sassanid Empire, but it was apparently significant.
For more fascinating explorations, click on "Maps" on the left.
Good stuff.
.
A map showing the spread of the world's major religions, by major portion of the population over the past 5,000 years, is at http://www.mapsofwar.com/. Fascinating! I didn't realize that Hinduism is that old, but I guess if I'd thought about it, I'd have figured it out.
Scroll down a bit and you'll find the link to "Imperial History", which illustrates the spread of political control. I'd never even heard of the Sassanid Empire, but it was apparently significant.
For more fascinating explorations, click on "Maps" on the left.
Good stuff.
.
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