Friday, July 20, 2007
I haven't been keeping up the diary function the past few days. I've been filling the ether with trivia, the "I'm alive and relatively rational" function. Usually when I do that it's because I am avoiding addressing some issue, but that isn't the case here. I just haven't taken the time.
I have to go all the way back to Wednesday, and I'm already forgetting what may have happened Wednesday morning and afternoon. Nothing noteworthy, apparently....
Wednesday evening was Shakespeare, "As You Like It", at Boscobel. Boscobel is a 200-year-old mansion on the Hudson River, across from West Point. Every summer the grounds host the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival. The performances are held in a huge turreted tent (here - scroll down a bit, photo on the left, also do click to see the video). The dirt-floored stage is in the center of the tent with tiered seating around three sides, and the cast also makes excellent use of the lawn outside the tent. The view of the lawns and the river is framed perfectly by the arch of the tent opening.
FW had set it all up as a Mensa outing back in May, but the only people to respond immediately (and separately) were Roman and me. I think because on the weekends the tickets are very expensive (Mensans are not generally noted for financial success, or if they do have it, they certainly don't like to spend it), and during the week everybody else works. Anyway, FW bought the tickets very early, which distressed me a bit because I had planned to invite a friend from NJ, it would be only an hour's drive for him and entirely possible (though not probable) and worth at least a try, but FW said that seats were assigned, and a later ticket purchase would probably not be near us.
Which would make things extremely awkward if I wanted to sit with my NJ friend.
FW doesn't especially like Roman, which complicates matters, I couldn't abandon them to each other (although on his side there is no animosity, and they are always civil to each other). So I didn't invite my friend. Then, a few days ago, there had been an FW-Roman explosion, soothed over but still remembered, and I wasn't sure whether I wanted to sit between them for the entire evening, being unsure how things would go.
As it turned out, there were several seats open on either side of us, so I could have issued my invitation after all. Me Sad. And the two of them were quite pleasant to each other. Me Happy.
The original plan had been a picnic on the grounds 2 hours before "curtain" (there being no actual curtain), but it had rained earlier in the day and looked like it might rain more, so the picnic was cancelled. So Roman and I met for dinner in Poughkeepsie, and then headed to Cold Spring. We got there early, so we were able to visit the gardens and marvel at the river view before FW joined us and we went to the tent.
Roman had warned me that although the actors adhere strictly to the bard's words, stage directions, props, and costumes might be from an entirely different era.
Yup.
They did "As You Like It" as a western.
Imagine Shakespearean English in a Western drawl.
Archery and sword fights were accomplished using rifles, knives, and pistols. People thundered up riding Monty Python horses. The shepherdess's sheep were actors on hands and knees with mops on their heads.
It was fun. I enjoyed it.
It didn't rain, but it was so damp that when I took my jacket off the back of the seat, it felt like it needed wringing out. By the end of the play, fog had moved in, so that as the actors went out onto the lawn to exit, they disappeared. My hair, pulled into a pony tail, was a mass of fuzz, standing out three inches from my scalp even where it was pulled back.
As I drove home up the river, the fog got thicker, and just about when I was starting to worry, six miles from home, the fog suddenly stopped, like a line had been drawn across the road. At my driveway, it was perfectly clear.
Dark. The trees around the house were full of fireflies, more than I usually see. They looked like tiny Christmas lights. When I looked up higher, the sky was full of stars, the Milky Way was broad and dense. As I was looking up, a meteorite crossed the sky below the Milky Way. I waited, and there was another.
I have to say it was a good evening. I just wish there hadn't been those empty seats to remind me of what I missed.
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Friday, July 20, 2007
1388 Blogline Burp
Friday, July 20, 2007
Yesterday I noticed many of the blogs I follow through Bloglines.com had 20-30 "updates" rather than the usual 0-4. That happens every once in a while. Don't know why. Today, this diary was showing 20 "new posts" in Bloglines.
Not me. I didn't do that. Bloglines has a tummy ache.
I notice that Blogger is adding blank lines between paragraphs, even in OLD posts in other blogs.
Not me. I didn't do that, either.
.
Yesterday I noticed many of the blogs I follow through Bloglines.com had 20-30 "updates" rather than the usual 0-4. That happens every once in a while. Don't know why. Today, this diary was showing 20 "new posts" in Bloglines.
Not me. I didn't do that. Bloglines has a tummy ache.
I notice that Blogger is adding blank lines between paragraphs, even in OLD posts in other blogs.
Not me. I didn't do that, either.
.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
1387 Toilet Cleaning
With a nod to The Dark Prince, whence this cometh.
TOILET CLEANING INSTRUCTIONS:
Sincerely,
The Dog
TOILET CLEANING INSTRUCTIONS:
- Put both lids of the toilet up and add 1/8 cup of pet shampoo to the water in the bowl.
- Pick up the cat and soothe him while you carry him towards the bathroom.
- In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close both lids. You may need to stand on the lid.
- The cat will self agitate and make ample suds. Never mind the noises that come from the toilet, the cat is actually enjoying this.
- Flush the toilet three or four times. This provides a "power-wash and rinse."
- Have someone open the front door of your home. Be sure that there are no people between the bathroom and the front door.
- Stand behind the toilet as far as you can, and quickly lift both lids.
- The cat will rocket out of the toilet, streak through the bathroom, and run outside where he will dry himself off.
- Both the commode and the cat will be sparkling clean.
Sincerely,
The Dog
1386 Being
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Repeating here a comment I made on an acquaintance's journal, just because sometimes I have to remind myself:
First you have to figure out who you are.
Then you have to like who you are.
Then you have to be who you are.
That's where strength comes from, and all else follows.
Took me a long time to learn that.
.
Repeating here a comment I made on an acquaintance's journal, just because sometimes I have to remind myself:
First you have to figure out who you are.
Then you have to like who you are.
Then you have to be who you are.
That's where strength comes from, and all else follows.
Took me a long time to learn that.
.
1385 Musical Taste
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Looking at my CD collection, it appears that my tastes run to folk, bluegrass, classical, and gentle oldies. I have very little true rock (beyond the Stones and Jimi), especially nothing from the past two decades. That's partly because if what I hear from the "musical guests" on late night TV talk shows is at all representative, there's no MUSIC there. It's all noise and no talent.
On the other hand, Daughter accuses me of being a nascent Deadhead, because every time I've heard anything from the Grateful Dead, I've said "Oooo, I like that." I'm definitely a fan of Mickey Hart.
I've avoided Black Sabbath just because of their name I suppose, even though several people have told me I'd like them. Then I found this: [Video. If you're coming in on a feed and don't see it, click on the post title.]
Ok, yeah, there's talent there. They're not for sitting listening, though. I have to be up and moving for them.
I guess the old dog can still learn new tricks.
[Oops - just noticed the DATE! Still nothing from the past few decades....]
.
Looking at my CD collection, it appears that my tastes run to folk, bluegrass, classical, and gentle oldies. I have very little true rock (beyond the Stones and Jimi), especially nothing from the past two decades. That's partly because if what I hear from the "musical guests" on late night TV talk shows is at all representative, there's no MUSIC there. It's all noise and no talent.
On the other hand, Daughter accuses me of being a nascent Deadhead, because every time I've heard anything from the Grateful Dead, I've said "Oooo, I like that." I'm definitely a fan of Mickey Hart.
I've avoided Black Sabbath just because of their name I suppose, even though several people have told me I'd like them. Then I found this: [Video. If you're coming in on a feed and don't see it, click on the post title.]
Ok, yeah, there's talent there. They're not for sitting listening, though. I have to be up and moving for them.
I guess the old dog can still learn new tricks.
[Oops - just noticed the DATE! Still nothing from the past few decades....]
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1384 How to Pronounce "Ashokan"
Don't know why, but I get a lot of search hits from people trying to find the pronunciation of "Ashokan" (as in "Ashokan Reservoir", "Ashokan Field Campus", "Ashokan Farewell", etc.)
I guess some people might think it's ASH-o-can or ash-o-CAN.
It's actually pronounced ah-SHOW-kn. To rhyme with "I've spoken."
It may help you to know that there's a hamlet called "Shokan" (SHO-kan).
Happy search hits.
You're welcome.
(In case you're wondering about why I'm sure of the pronunciation, my country house is about 15 miles from the Ashokan Reservoir, I have been to many events at the Ashokan Field Campus - the local Mensa group used to have their annual fall gathering there - and I am slightly acquainted with Jay and Molly, who wrote "Ashokan Farewell" back when Jay thought that the Field Campus was going to be sold.)
.
I guess some people might think it's ASH-o-can or ash-o-CAN.
It's actually pronounced ah-SHOW-kn. To rhyme with "I've spoken."
It may help you to know that there's a hamlet called "Shokan" (SHO-kan).
Happy search hits.
You're welcome.
(In case you're wondering about why I'm sure of the pronunciation, my country house is about 15 miles from the Ashokan Reservoir, I have been to many events at the Ashokan Field Campus - the local Mensa group used to have their annual fall gathering there - and I am slightly acquainted with Jay and Molly, who wrote "Ashokan Farewell" back when Jay thought that the Field Campus was going to be sold.)
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Tuesday, July 17, 2007
1383 T-Shirt
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Seen on a T-shirt this evening:
Seen on a T-shirt this evening:
I'M MEAN
BECAUSE
YOU'RE STUPID
If you saw it too, confess.
1382 Poison
This version comes from Stories as told by a Cherokee.
The little boy was walking down a path and he came across a rattlesnake. The rattlesnake was getting old.
He asked, "Please little boy, can you take me to the top of the mountain? I hope to see the sunset one last time before I die."
The little boy answered "No Mr. Rattlesnake. If I pick you up, you'll bite me and I'll die."
The rattlesnake said, "No, I promise. I won't bite you. Just please take me up to the mountain."
The little boy thought about it and finally picked up that rattlesnake and took it close to his chest and carried it up to the top of the mountain. They sat there and watched the sunset together. It was so beautiful.
Then after sunset the rattlesnake turned to the little boy and asked, "Can I go home now? I am tired, and I am old."
The little boy picked up the rattlesnake and again took it to his chest and held it tightly and safely. He came all the way down the mountain holding the snake carefully and took it to his home to give him some food and a place to sleep.
The next day the rattlesnake turned to the boy and asked, "Please little boy, will you take me back to my home now? It is time for me to leave this world, and I would like to be at my home now."
The little boy felt he had been safe all this time and the snake had kept his word, so he would take it home as asked. He carefully picked up the snake, took it close to his chest, and carried him back to the woods, to his home to die.
Just before he laid the rattlesnake down, the rattlesnake turned and bit him in the chest. The little boy cried out and threw the snake upon the ground. "Mr. Snake, why did you do that? Now I will surely die!"
The rattlesnake looked up at him and grinned, "You knew what I was when you picked me up."
----------------------------------
My mother had a saying. "You can adopt a dog, and take it into your life, and feed it, and care for it, and love it, but then if it bites you, how many times will you allow it to bite you before you get rid of it?"
.
The little boy was walking down a path and he came across a rattlesnake. The rattlesnake was getting old.
He asked, "Please little boy, can you take me to the top of the mountain? I hope to see the sunset one last time before I die."
The little boy answered "No Mr. Rattlesnake. If I pick you up, you'll bite me and I'll die."
The rattlesnake said, "No, I promise. I won't bite you. Just please take me up to the mountain."
The little boy thought about it and finally picked up that rattlesnake and took it close to his chest and carried it up to the top of the mountain. They sat there and watched the sunset together. It was so beautiful.
Then after sunset the rattlesnake turned to the little boy and asked, "Can I go home now? I am tired, and I am old."
The little boy picked up the rattlesnake and again took it to his chest and held it tightly and safely. He came all the way down the mountain holding the snake carefully and took it to his home to give him some food and a place to sleep.
The next day the rattlesnake turned to the boy and asked, "Please little boy, will you take me back to my home now? It is time for me to leave this world, and I would like to be at my home now."
The little boy felt he had been safe all this time and the snake had kept his word, so he would take it home as asked. He carefully picked up the snake, took it close to his chest, and carried him back to the woods, to his home to die.
Just before he laid the rattlesnake down, the rattlesnake turned and bit him in the chest. The little boy cried out and threw the snake upon the ground. "Mr. Snake, why did you do that? Now I will surely die!"
The rattlesnake looked up at him and grinned, "You knew what I was when you picked me up."
----------------------------------
My mother had a saying. "You can adopt a dog, and take it into your life, and feed it, and care for it, and love it, but then if it bites you, how many times will you allow it to bite you before you get rid of it?"
.
1381 What Makes a Man, Anyway?
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
I am so overwhelmed by what it would take to get this house company-ready. Seriously. A few months ago I came in second in an international messy computer room contest. And that was only because I didn't have a very good photo. (Mine is the fourth photo down, here.) It's worse now.
The only way to get past overwhelmed is to DO something, anything. Even the tiniest bit of progress is something done, a step forward.
Today I sorted paper in the kitchen. I promised myself three months ago, last time I sorted paper, that when a newspaper or magazine arrived, I would throw out the previous issue, whether I'd read it or not.
I didn't. From the mess of paper, I now have a neat 2-foot stack of unread magazines I'm reluctant to throw out, and six weeks of unread daily newspapers.
I did throw out all the catalogs.
Well, a step forward. Let's see if I can prevent a backslide before I get the next bit done.
------------------------------------
Jack's Shack (Hmmm - wonder if he's aware that term has a meaning on "Big Brother"?) over at "Random thoughts- Do they have meaning?" has a recent post on teaching his son to piddle standing up. The post kicked off comments on whether men always have to stand to urinate. Some people think sitting is ok. Others think that a man who sits, ever, isn't a man at all. There seems to be a lot of emotion on the subject.
Jay was all man. He was 6'3" tall, and 240 lbs, mostly bone and muscle. His habits and mode of thought were so male I used to tease him about it. He reeked of testosterone. I was surprised to find that at home, he sat.
I asked why, and he said that "a toilet is not a urinal. It's too low. It would make more sense to use the sink." If a real urinal, or tree, or anything else was available, he'd happily use that, of course, but he saw standing in front of a toilet as asking for trouble. Having had a few husbands and visiting males over the past 40 years, I saw his point, and was grateful.
It isn't whether you stand or sit that makes you a man. It's completely irrelevant. Sitting when there's only a toilet doesn't unman you. It makes you a considerate man. In my opinion, consideration makes a man much more desirable than any macho posturing. If standing is required to make you feel manly, you aren't very confident in your masculinity.
Why aren't home urinals common? They'd make a lot of sense. Is it because most plumbers are male, and they don't have to clean up after themselves?
[Note - if there are any males reading this who are candidates for using a toilet I am expected to clean, who do not intend to sit, well, that's ok. I accept that choice. There are other ways to be considerate. It evens out...]
-----------------------------------
This reminds me of a story.
A new building was built, and our product area moved into it. All the guys were annoyed about the urinals in the men's rooms - they were apparently set very low. "I feel like I'm back in grade school!" It so happened that the product manager was a very short man.
A few months after the move into the building, we got a new product manager. He was exceptionally tall, and a few days after he arrived, all the urinals were replaced with higher ones. There may or may not have been a connection.
He lasted a short time, and then was replaced by May, whom I have mentioned a few times in this journal. She was introduced in an all-hands meeting, and when she took the podium, she floored the whole group with, "Don't worry, guys. The urinals are staying."
.
I am so overwhelmed by what it would take to get this house company-ready. Seriously. A few months ago I came in second in an international messy computer room contest. And that was only because I didn't have a very good photo. (Mine is the fourth photo down, here.) It's worse now.
The only way to get past overwhelmed is to DO something, anything. Even the tiniest bit of progress is something done, a step forward.
Today I sorted paper in the kitchen. I promised myself three months ago, last time I sorted paper, that when a newspaper or magazine arrived, I would throw out the previous issue, whether I'd read it or not.
I didn't. From the mess of paper, I now have a neat 2-foot stack of unread magazines I'm reluctant to throw out, and six weeks of unread daily newspapers.
I did throw out all the catalogs.
Well, a step forward. Let's see if I can prevent a backslide before I get the next bit done.
------------------------------------
Jack's Shack (Hmmm - wonder if he's aware that term has a meaning on "Big Brother"?) over at "Random thoughts- Do they have meaning?" has a recent post on teaching his son to piddle standing up. The post kicked off comments on whether men always have to stand to urinate. Some people think sitting is ok. Others think that a man who sits, ever, isn't a man at all. There seems to be a lot of emotion on the subject.
Jay was all man. He was 6'3" tall, and 240 lbs, mostly bone and muscle. His habits and mode of thought were so male I used to tease him about it. He reeked of testosterone. I was surprised to find that at home, he sat.
I asked why, and he said that "a toilet is not a urinal. It's too low. It would make more sense to use the sink." If a real urinal, or tree, or anything else was available, he'd happily use that, of course, but he saw standing in front of a toilet as asking for trouble. Having had a few husbands and visiting males over the past 40 years, I saw his point, and was grateful.
It isn't whether you stand or sit that makes you a man. It's completely irrelevant. Sitting when there's only a toilet doesn't unman you. It makes you a considerate man. In my opinion, consideration makes a man much more desirable than any macho posturing. If standing is required to make you feel manly, you aren't very confident in your masculinity.
Why aren't home urinals common? They'd make a lot of sense. Is it because most plumbers are male, and they don't have to clean up after themselves?
[Note - if there are any males reading this who are candidates for using a toilet I am expected to clean, who do not intend to sit, well, that's ok. I accept that choice. There are other ways to be considerate. It evens out...]
-----------------------------------
This reminds me of a story.
A new building was built, and our product area moved into it. All the guys were annoyed about the urinals in the men's rooms - they were apparently set very low. "I feel like I'm back in grade school!" It so happened that the product manager was a very short man.
A few months after the move into the building, we got a new product manager. He was exceptionally tall, and a few days after he arrived, all the urinals were replaced with higher ones. There may or may not have been a connection.
He lasted a short time, and then was replaced by May, whom I have mentioned a few times in this journal. She was introduced in an all-hands meeting, and when she took the podium, she floored the whole group with, "Don't worry, guys. The urinals are staying."
.
Monday, July 16, 2007
1380 Mayoral Scuffle
Monday, July 16, 2007
When I get annoyed or upset, I get in the car and drive. Anywhere. Back roads through farmland and woods. I try to get lost and then find my way back. I listen to NPR if it's interesting, look at the scenery, and lose myself for a while. Driving is relaxing, and I find that it helps to clear my thinking.
This evening I went to the deli and picked up a bottle of iced tea, and then went for an impromptu ride, no purse, no money, no id, no phone, no nothin', and I quickly felt a little better.
The news was on the radio, and there was a conversation about how the internet can affect elections, how you never know who might have a camera when you do something stupid. Like, Mayor Sottile of Kingston. The newspaper has the whole story, and I suppose I'll have to find it and read it, but what they said was that the mayor and the wife of an opposition candidate for DA got into a scuffle in a bar. She threw her drink at him, he threw his drink at her, she hauled off at him with her purse, and so on.
The whole thing was captured on the bar's security camera, and was immediately uploaded to YouTube. You can see it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvNuOLDLddA. I had to watch it twice to locate the protagonists (it's short). They're in the back.
I was amused when the NPR commentator said that although the tape is impartial, it's interesting that every person who sees it has a different opinion of who did what, who started it. Which, she said, illustrates why, when you see something like that, you need an impartial reporter to explain it.
Yeah, sure, ok. Just so we all think the same thing, right? Giggle snort.
Mayor Sottile opened the festivities the day I volunteered at the children's reading program at the library. My thoughts were that he's a big man, with a lot of physical presence. I'd think twice about throwing a drink in his face, even if he did give me an unwelcome pat on the cheek.
When I got home, I was a lot more cheerful than when I left the house.
.
When I get annoyed or upset, I get in the car and drive. Anywhere. Back roads through farmland and woods. I try to get lost and then find my way back. I listen to NPR if it's interesting, look at the scenery, and lose myself for a while. Driving is relaxing, and I find that it helps to clear my thinking.
This evening I went to the deli and picked up a bottle of iced tea, and then went for an impromptu ride, no purse, no money, no id, no phone, no nothin', and I quickly felt a little better.
The news was on the radio, and there was a conversation about how the internet can affect elections, how you never know who might have a camera when you do something stupid. Like, Mayor Sottile of Kingston. The newspaper has the whole story, and I suppose I'll have to find it and read it, but what they said was that the mayor and the wife of an opposition candidate for DA got into a scuffle in a bar. She threw her drink at him, he threw his drink at her, she hauled off at him with her purse, and so on.
The whole thing was captured on the bar's security camera, and was immediately uploaded to YouTube. You can see it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvNuOLDLddA. I had to watch it twice to locate the protagonists (it's short). They're in the back.
I was amused when the NPR commentator said that although the tape is impartial, it's interesting that every person who sees it has a different opinion of who did what, who started it. Which, she said, illustrates why, when you see something like that, you need an impartial reporter to explain it.
Yeah, sure, ok. Just so we all think the same thing, right? Giggle snort.
Mayor Sottile opened the festivities the day I volunteered at the children's reading program at the library. My thoughts were that he's a big man, with a lot of physical presence. I'd think twice about throwing a drink in his face, even if he did give me an unwelcome pat on the cheek.
When I got home, I was a lot more cheerful than when I left the house.
.
1379 Frustration
Monday, July 16, 2007
I'm frustrated about several things right now, from about four different directions. I want to just throw everything up in the air and let it fall where it may. Sometimes things are just too much trouble. Sometimes people are just too much trouble. I'm really tired of people telling me one thing and doing another. Making plans and committing me way earlier than necessary, without telling me before doing it. NOT being willing to make plans and "save the date", and then complaining that the calendar is full. Promising calls or emails and then never delivering. Feeling that I have to be available to family, but NOT share that time with friends. Aaaaagh!
.
The blank space above represents a paragraph I wrote, deleted, and rewrote four times. I'm just too frustrated to be reasonable.
The moral of this post - never ever tell anyone who knows you about your blog. You can't vent anymore.
I'm not looking forward to Wednesday evening. I'm not looking forward to next weekend. I am not happy.
[Later - rereading the first paragraph, it occurred to me that there are four people who might read it and jump to the conclusion that it's all about them. Remember Carly Simon's "...you probably think this song is about you..."? Well, pieces of it ARE ABOUT ALL OF YOU! SO THERE! Snarl....]
.
I'm frustrated about several things right now, from about four different directions. I want to just throw everything up in the air and let it fall where it may. Sometimes things are just too much trouble. Sometimes people are just too much trouble. I'm really tired of people telling me one thing and doing another. Making plans and committing me way earlier than necessary, without telling me before doing it. NOT being willing to make plans and "save the date", and then complaining that the calendar is full. Promising calls or emails and then never delivering. Feeling that I have to be available to family, but NOT share that time with friends. Aaaaagh!
.
The blank space above represents a paragraph I wrote, deleted, and rewrote four times. I'm just too frustrated to be reasonable.
The moral of this post - never ever tell anyone who knows you about your blog. You can't vent anymore.
I'm not looking forward to Wednesday evening. I'm not looking forward to next weekend. I am not happy.
[Later - rereading the first paragraph, it occurred to me that there are four people who might read it and jump to the conclusion that it's all about them. Remember Carly Simon's "...you probably think this song is about you..."? Well, pieces of it ARE ABOUT ALL OF YOU! SO THERE! Snarl....]
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Sunday, July 15, 2007
1378 Moved TVs
Sunday, July 15, 2007
I watch television more in the den than in the bedroom, so the den's getting the new TV. I removed the dying TV from the bedroom and put it in a corner in the kitchen, beside two other dead TVs. Gotta figure out how to get rid of them.
Then I moved the TV from the den into the bedroom. Not very easy. The den TV is far back on a board that extends from the side of the desk into the corner, with a bookcase to the side, and scanners, printers, telephones, and other stuff piled in front. I had to move a bunch of stuff and climb up on the desk to be able to reach it.
There's about 47 thousand cords under the desk, plugged into several "bars", and working alone, I couldn't figure out which one was the TV power cord. Can't do the "wiggle and watch" bit alone. I finally just unplugged stuff until the TV went off. Six plugs later, I discovered the TV wasn't plugged into a bar - it was plugged directly into the wall BEHIND the desk. I can't easily reach that far.
I managed to get it unplugged with the tips of my fingers, but there's no way I could get enough of a grip to plug the new TV in there. Don't know how I managed it in the first place.
Carried the den TV into the bedroom, got it all hooked up. Easy, except for the weight. It's not big, but it was heavy.
Got the new one out of the box, and installed it in the den. I was surprised at how light it was. It has a larger screen than the old ones, but I could easily lift it with one hand.
Done.
Now I have two large boxes and three (one from last fall) dead TVs to dispose of. I understand they make great aquariums, hint hint....
.
I watch television more in the den than in the bedroom, so the den's getting the new TV. I removed the dying TV from the bedroom and put it in a corner in the kitchen, beside two other dead TVs. Gotta figure out how to get rid of them.
Then I moved the TV from the den into the bedroom. Not very easy. The den TV is far back on a board that extends from the side of the desk into the corner, with a bookcase to the side, and scanners, printers, telephones, and other stuff piled in front. I had to move a bunch of stuff and climb up on the desk to be able to reach it.
There's about 47 thousand cords under the desk, plugged into several "bars", and working alone, I couldn't figure out which one was the TV power cord. Can't do the "wiggle and watch" bit alone. I finally just unplugged stuff until the TV went off. Six plugs later, I discovered the TV wasn't plugged into a bar - it was plugged directly into the wall BEHIND the desk. I can't easily reach that far.
I managed to get it unplugged with the tips of my fingers, but there's no way I could get enough of a grip to plug the new TV in there. Don't know how I managed it in the first place.
Carried the den TV into the bedroom, got it all hooked up. Easy, except for the weight. It's not big, but it was heavy.
Got the new one out of the box, and installed it in the den. I was surprised at how light it was. It has a larger screen than the old ones, but I could easily lift it with one hand.
Done.
Now I have two large boxes and three (one from last fall) dead TVs to dispose of. I understand they make great aquariums, hint hint....
.
1377 Relationship Signs
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Chris, in his latest post over there at Inane Thoughts & Insane Ramblings, talks about how and whether you can judge the health of a relationship by witnessing the interactions of the couple. (Go to his blog for the discussion, book reference, and quotes.) The following is Chris's words, and he says:
"So when I evaluate a relationship, I look for signs of cherishing and respect. If it is not there, I don't see that relationship lasting. Cherish is the opposite of contempt, one of Gottman's Four Horseman [Gottman is a researcher w/ a 95% success rate in predicting relationship long term success. The 4 dooming signs include contempt, defensiveness, criticism, and stonewalling.].
I guess that makes sense. Cherishing is a positive indicator that is the flip side of Gottman's negative predictor (contempt). After all, you can't cherish someone and hold them in contempt at the same time.... "
This is another one of those things that when you hear it, you say, "Well, yeah. Duh." You feel like you've known it always, and yet, you'd never thought about it before, never put it together so neatly. People never get the credit they should when they speak universal truths. The next day, everyone acts like they've known it forever, not noticing that their way of thinking and acting has changed since the day before.
Chris's post kicked off a new train of thought in me.
Back to Gottman's four dooming signs: contempt, defensiveness, criticism, and stonewalling. I fully agree with that. Absolutely. Every failed relationship I've ever seen, or have been in, has had one or more of those four. By the end, my second marriage had all four on both sides. (We dragged that train wreck out way too long.)
Every successful relationship I've known has had all four of the opposites, which I see as respect, faith/comfort, acceptance, and openness. I had all of those with Jay. Just as you can see dooming signs almost instantly, everyone instantly saw the good signs in us.
The 30s-ish daughter of a friend recently asked her father, essentially, how you can tell when someone is or is not "the right person". He's been divorced three times, and recently ended a 4-5 year relationship. His divorce from the daughter's mother, after 35 years of marriage, was rather nasty, and I think perhaps the daughter is afraid to attempt a relationship, afraid that they all end badly, so why try.
There's a lot of advice out there, much of it of the "similar values, beliefs, background" variety as predictors of a good match. And, yes, that's what was wrong with my first marriage - we were poles apart in the values, beliefs, background areas, BUT! That wasn't the basic problem! The problem was that we didn't have respect or tolerance for each other's values, etc. With respect and acceptance, any difference can actually be a positive factor.
Unfortunately, none of the advice is any good at the beginning of a relationship. When the pheromones and hormones are flying, you don't see the warning signs. You make excuses for the inexcusable. People around you might see it (those dooming signs) and even tell you, but you don't listen, because "they don't know him/her like I do, they don't understand". It's only after the bloody end that you can look back and realize they were right.
About the only advice I can give is to listen to your friends (not family - Daughter disliked Jay until she got to know him, then she disliked the way I treated him. She was too close and had other issues of her own.) Anyway, bring your new romantic interest around your friends. Listen to specific comments they may have, especially as pertain to your interactions with him or her. Even strangers may contribute astute perceptions.
They may not know about the "four dooming signs", but they'll see them anyway if they're there.
----------------------------
Me? I'm not going to settle. I shall insist on respect, faith/comfort, acceptance, and openness. I can't say I'd rather be alone than accept less, but I WANT the whole package.
.
Chris, in his latest post over there at Inane Thoughts & Insane Ramblings, talks about how and whether you can judge the health of a relationship by witnessing the interactions of the couple. (Go to his blog for the discussion, book reference, and quotes.) The following is Chris's words, and he says:
"So when I evaluate a relationship, I look for signs of cherishing and respect. If it is not there, I don't see that relationship lasting. Cherish is the opposite of contempt, one of Gottman's Four Horseman [Gottman is a researcher w/ a 95% success rate in predicting relationship long term success. The 4 dooming signs include contempt, defensiveness, criticism, and stonewalling.].
I guess that makes sense. Cherishing is a positive indicator that is the flip side of Gottman's negative predictor (contempt). After all, you can't cherish someone and hold them in contempt at the same time.... "
This is another one of those things that when you hear it, you say, "Well, yeah. Duh." You feel like you've known it always, and yet, you'd never thought about it before, never put it together so neatly. People never get the credit they should when they speak universal truths. The next day, everyone acts like they've known it forever, not noticing that their way of thinking and acting has changed since the day before.
Chris's post kicked off a new train of thought in me.
Back to Gottman's four dooming signs: contempt, defensiveness, criticism, and stonewalling. I fully agree with that. Absolutely. Every failed relationship I've ever seen, or have been in, has had one or more of those four. By the end, my second marriage had all four on both sides. (We dragged that train wreck out way too long.)
Every successful relationship I've known has had all four of the opposites, which I see as respect, faith/comfort, acceptance, and openness. I had all of those with Jay. Just as you can see dooming signs almost instantly, everyone instantly saw the good signs in us.
The 30s-ish daughter of a friend recently asked her father, essentially, how you can tell when someone is or is not "the right person". He's been divorced three times, and recently ended a 4-5 year relationship. His divorce from the daughter's mother, after 35 years of marriage, was rather nasty, and I think perhaps the daughter is afraid to attempt a relationship, afraid that they all end badly, so why try.
There's a lot of advice out there, much of it of the "similar values, beliefs, background" variety as predictors of a good match. And, yes, that's what was wrong with my first marriage - we were poles apart in the values, beliefs, background areas, BUT! That wasn't the basic problem! The problem was that we didn't have respect or tolerance for each other's values, etc. With respect and acceptance, any difference can actually be a positive factor.
Unfortunately, none of the advice is any good at the beginning of a relationship. When the pheromones and hormones are flying, you don't see the warning signs. You make excuses for the inexcusable. People around you might see it (those dooming signs) and even tell you, but you don't listen, because "they don't know him/her like I do, they don't understand". It's only after the bloody end that you can look back and realize they were right.
About the only advice I can give is to listen to your friends (not family - Daughter disliked Jay until she got to know him, then she disliked the way I treated him. She was too close and had other issues of her own.) Anyway, bring your new romantic interest around your friends. Listen to specific comments they may have, especially as pertain to your interactions with him or her. Even strangers may contribute astute perceptions.
They may not know about the "four dooming signs", but they'll see them anyway if they're there.
----------------------------
Me? I'm not going to settle. I shall insist on respect, faith/comfort, acceptance, and openness. I can't say I'd rather be alone than accept less, but I WANT the whole package.
.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
1375 Saturday Sigh
Saturday, July 14, 2007
I went to a party/BBQ at The Gypsy's today. It was her son's 11th birthday, and a good excuse for a big-deal party. Gypsy's parties are always good. She goes all out on the food, and the conversations always make for interesting (although trivial) listening.
I never talk much at her gatherings, partly because I simply don't talk much anyway except in a small "around the table" group, and partly because if you have to raise your voice to get in, I'm out. I have a soft quiet voice, and am reluctant to raise it. (I also don't much care for loud women. Brassy women. I'll just let them have the floor. And the man, for that matter.)
Not that I can't speak up. I have some theater training, and I can make myself heard in the last rows without a microphone, without straining in the least. I know how to project. Perhaps I don't speak up and jump into conversations because I don't feel I have all that much to contribute. Not that what I might have to say would not be pertinent, but that most party conversations, although interesting to listen to, are of no real import. If you try to throw meat in, you get a blank stare.
I've never learned to chit-chat.
I was even more quiet today. I was there five hours or more, and may have spoken all of five words. I was a bit late in arriving, too. My brain felt scattered. I had a lot of inertia to overcome to get out the door. Maybe I'm still tired from Thursday? Doesn't sound likely. Anyway, mostly I sat, listened, and sipped root beer. I haven't had A&W in a long time. It was good.
.
I went to a party/BBQ at The Gypsy's today. It was her son's 11th birthday, and a good excuse for a big-deal party. Gypsy's parties are always good. She goes all out on the food, and the conversations always make for interesting (although trivial) listening.
I never talk much at her gatherings, partly because I simply don't talk much anyway except in a small "around the table" group, and partly because if you have to raise your voice to get in, I'm out. I have a soft quiet voice, and am reluctant to raise it. (I also don't much care for loud women. Brassy women. I'll just let them have the floor. And the man, for that matter.)
Not that I can't speak up. I have some theater training, and I can make myself heard in the last rows without a microphone, without straining in the least. I know how to project. Perhaps I don't speak up and jump into conversations because I don't feel I have all that much to contribute. Not that what I might have to say would not be pertinent, but that most party conversations, although interesting to listen to, are of no real import. If you try to throw meat in, you get a blank stare.
I've never learned to chit-chat.
I was even more quiet today. I was there five hours or more, and may have spoken all of five words. I was a bit late in arriving, too. My brain felt scattered. I had a lot of inertia to overcome to get out the door. Maybe I'm still tired from Thursday? Doesn't sound likely. Anyway, mostly I sat, listened, and sipped root beer. I haven't had A&W in a long time. It was good.
.
Friday, July 13, 2007
1374 No Explosions
Friday, July 13, 2007
It was almost exactly two years ago that I went to dinner and a movie with an old friend, thinking that it was platonic, and discovered during the evening that it was "a date", my first since Jay had died. That evening started an explosive chain reaction that almost destroyed my sanity.
Tonight I went out for dinner and a movie with an old friend, planning to have a nice platonic evening (ironically the same theater, by the way), and I discovered during the evening that he wanted to call it "a date".
I'd like to keep him close, an intimate friend, but I don't want any romance. That's a good way to lose a friend. I prefer not to lose him as a friend. I'm two years older now. We'll see if I've learned anything.
.
It was almost exactly two years ago that I went to dinner and a movie with an old friend, thinking that it was platonic, and discovered during the evening that it was "a date", my first since Jay had died. That evening started an explosive chain reaction that almost destroyed my sanity.
Tonight I went out for dinner and a movie with an old friend, planning to have a nice platonic evening (ironically the same theater, by the way), and I discovered during the evening that he wanted to call it "a date".
I'd like to keep him close, an intimate friend, but I don't want any romance. That's a good way to lose a friend. I prefer not to lose him as a friend. I'm two years older now. We'll see if I've learned anything.
.
1373 Quick Quick
Friday, July 13, 2007
This'll be a quick entry - going out for dinner and movie this evening, and I have to wash and dress yet.
My friend's surgery went well yesterday. Of course, it took all of 20 minutes, then another hour or two recovery, but the entire hospital time was 7 hours. We spent most of the time talking in the ambulatory surgery waiting room.
Some of our topics might have shocked the other people in the waiting room. "And then when she said she 'likes to thuck it' I thought she meant the stud, and she did mean the stud, but not the one I was thinking."
During the surgery, I was so tired I fell asleep in the waiting room.
I got home about 7:45 pm, and was falling asleep at the laptop, but then a friend called and we were on the phone for an hour and a half. That's remarkable for me. Got to bed about midnight.
This morning I remembered that the show on Hell is this evening, and the VCR in the kitchen had died, so I had to drag out the book on the DVD recorder in the living room, and figure out how to set the time and program it to record this evening. I'd never used it for anything beyond watching, so it was all new. The booklet is badly organized and uses words they don't bother to define, so it took me almost an hour to set it.
I was so unsure that I did it right, I also set the ancient VCR in the bedroom. It'll probably explode at 9:58 this evening, dust being explosive....
Whatever. If I don't capture the show, it'll be because I'm not supposed to.
I did some shopping this afternoon, for a friend's son's birthday party tomorrow. I wasn't sure what I was looking for (per her recommendation), but then I found it, and I'm pretty sure I got the right thing, I think. I had bought him a fancy trick kite last week, but then last Friday he fell off a slide and lacerated his spleen, so now he's on bed rest. A kite has become inappropriate. So I needed something for a kid who needs quiet occupying for the next month.
I hope he has a nice day - no rain.
This'll be a quick entry - going out for dinner and movie this evening, and I have to wash and dress yet.
My friend's surgery went well yesterday. Of course, it took all of 20 minutes, then another hour or two recovery, but the entire hospital time was 7 hours. We spent most of the time talking in the ambulatory surgery waiting room.
Some of our topics might have shocked the other people in the waiting room. "And then when she said she 'likes to thuck it' I thought she meant the stud, and she did mean the stud, but not the one I was thinking."
During the surgery, I was so tired I fell asleep in the waiting room.
I got home about 7:45 pm, and was falling asleep at the laptop, but then a friend called and we were on the phone for an hour and a half. That's remarkable for me. Got to bed about midnight.
This morning I remembered that the show on Hell is this evening, and the VCR in the kitchen had died, so I had to drag out the book on the DVD recorder in the living room, and figure out how to set the time and program it to record this evening. I'd never used it for anything beyond watching, so it was all new. The booklet is badly organized and uses words they don't bother to define, so it took me almost an hour to set it.
I was so unsure that I did it right, I also set the ancient VCR in the bedroom. It'll probably explode at 9:58 this evening, dust being explosive....
Whatever. If I don't capture the show, it'll be because I'm not supposed to.
I did some shopping this afternoon, for a friend's son's birthday party tomorrow. I wasn't sure what I was looking for (per her recommendation), but then I found it, and I'm pretty sure I got the right thing, I think. I had bought him a fancy trick kite last week, but then last Friday he fell off a slide and lacerated his spleen, so now he's on bed rest. A kite has become inappropriate. So I needed something for a kid who needs quiet occupying for the next month.
I hope he has a nice day - no rain.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
1372 No Sleep
Thursday, July 12, 2007
It's 5:45 am, and I've had no sleep. I'm taking a friend to the hospital for outpatient surgery today, and absolutely had to wake up by 7:30. That's early for me, since I have no regular wakeup time these days.
I suspected that I wouldn't sleep at all because I'd be afraid of sleeping through the alarm. I was right. I spent many hours with my eyes closed, but I don't think I had more than a few 15-minute episodes of drifting. When you lie there with closed eyes, the mind takes off on its own, and the things I was thinking about (actually, the Who, and the frustration and growing hurt and anger) made it even harder to sleep.
When it got to 5:30, I realized that if I did fall asleep at that point, I absolutely would sleep through the alarm.
So here I am.
.
It's 5:45 am, and I've had no sleep. I'm taking a friend to the hospital for outpatient surgery today, and absolutely had to wake up by 7:30. That's early for me, since I have no regular wakeup time these days.
I suspected that I wouldn't sleep at all because I'd be afraid of sleeping through the alarm. I was right. I spent many hours with my eyes closed, but I don't think I had more than a few 15-minute episodes of drifting. When you lie there with closed eyes, the mind takes off on its own, and the things I was thinking about (actually, the Who, and the frustration and growing hurt and anger) made it even harder to sleep.
When it got to 5:30, I realized that if I did fall asleep at that point, I absolutely would sleep through the alarm.
So here I am.
.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
1371 Food Fight?
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Some guy in Kingston is turning 60, and has decided to celebrate by inviting the entire community to a food fight this Sunday, I assume in his yard. Right next to the Family Court building in uptown Kingston. "Bring water pistols, also anything soft that will do well in a food fight -- mashed potatoes, key lime pie, jello." FW wonders if I'd like to go.
Ack!
Food fights seem to be a staple of situation comedies, and every time I see one, my thoughts run like "Now who's gonna clean that up?", and "That will definitely stain that sofa!" Not to mention the waste of perfectly good food.
I simply cannot imagine me in a food fight.
I also can't imagine a food fight in uptown Kingston. The first time a load of mashed potatoes hits a neighbor's car or yard, the police will be called.
And who's gonna clean it up?
.
Some guy in Kingston is turning 60, and has decided to celebrate by inviting the entire community to a food fight this Sunday, I assume in his yard. Right next to the Family Court building in uptown Kingston. "Bring water pistols, also anything soft that will do well in a food fight -- mashed potatoes, key lime pie, jello." FW wonders if I'd like to go.
Ack!
Food fights seem to be a staple of situation comedies, and every time I see one, my thoughts run like "Now who's gonna clean that up?", and "That will definitely stain that sofa!" Not to mention the waste of perfectly good food.
I simply cannot imagine me in a food fight.
I also can't imagine a food fight in uptown Kingston. The first time a load of mashed potatoes hits a neighbor's car or yard, the police will be called.
And who's gonna clean it up?
.
1370 Moral Questions
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
[Edit - I found an article about the moral questions, link added at the bottom.]
I've had some folks find this blog after a search on "apostasy". Interesting. Interesting that they found me, even though I had purposely misspelled it to foil searches. Half of them clicked on the comment link, but then didn't comment. More interesting. What's that about?
-------------------------
Back in May I mentioned a study being done by some folks at Harvard, about moral choices. Yesterday a researcher in the study was taking about it on NPR. They mentioned in particular the "trolley" questions. (Since a representative of the study talked about the questions on the radio, I guess I can here.)
The questions go something like this (from my memory, notoriously defective. Note that you have to accept the premise and predicted outcome exactly as stated):
The guy on the radio said that almost everyone answered these two question the same way, regardless of age, gender, nationality, or religion. Something like 80ish% answered "No" to the second question. I'm pretty certain he said that everyone answered "Yes" to the first. I'm pretty certain of that, because it surprised me.
I took the test in May. Very recently I was directly invited by Harvard to take it again. I did. The researcher's statement that everyone said "Yes" to the first question surprised me because I twice answered "No" to both questions.
So either they threw out answers they didn't like, or he is inaccurate when he said "everyone". (Perhaps 99.9999% is "everyone"?)
The researchers did brain scans on some people answering the questions. They noted that even though those two particular questions seem very similar, different areas of the brain lit up when people considered them. The theory of the researchers is that pushing the man is seen as murder, and that there is an inborn human resistance to murder, so as soon as the mind recognizes it as murder, the decision is shunted to the "no no no" part of the brain.
He kinda lost me there. Pulling a lever to send a trolley into a man is not murder? Isn't it the same as pulling a trigger? Or pushing someone in front of a train? If there's an inborn resistance to murder even to save others, where do wars come from? How do you make a soldier?
I'm sorry, but it occurs to me that some people may have felt a bit guilty about their first answer, and backed off on the second to say "Oh, now, I'm not THAT bad!" There was probably also a reluctance to actually touch the man in the second question. Touching him is to know him to some degree.
It sounds to me like the researchers started out with a theory and then set out to prove it.
-----------------------------
So, what was my thinking when I answered "No"? Simple, really. Knowing nothing about any of them, I don't think I have the right to decide that those five men are more valuable than that one man. And that's pretty much all that went into my decision. Mere numbers don't mean a lot to me. There's a measure of acceptance of fate in there, too. What is to happen, will. There is purpose in everything. I might even have a sudden overwhelming urge to pull the lever, figuring that if I weren't meant to, it would break.
------------------------------
Later edit - An article about the moral questions is at http://www.wjh.harvard.edu/~jgreene/GreeneWJH/Greene-Haidt-TiCS-02.pdf. See the box on the third page down. The statements made in the box are different from what I remember of the NPR interview. Perhaps he was trying to simplify, and make it sound more interesting.
.
[Edit - I found an article about the moral questions, link added at the bottom.]
I've had some folks find this blog after a search on "apostasy". Interesting. Interesting that they found me, even though I had purposely misspelled it to foil searches. Half of them clicked on the comment link, but then didn't comment. More interesting. What's that about?
-------------------------
Back in May I mentioned a study being done by some folks at Harvard, about moral choices. Yesterday a researcher in the study was taking about it on NPR. They mentioned in particular the "trolley" questions. (Since a representative of the study talked about the questions on the radio, I guess I can here.)
The questions go something like this (from my memory, notoriously defective. Note that you have to accept the premise and predicted outcome exactly as stated):
- There are five men working on a trolley track. There is a runaway trolley hurtling down the track toward them. The men do not see the trolley coming. If the trolley hits them, they will all be killed. You are standing near a lever that will switch the trolley to a different track, where only one man is working. If you pull the lever, that one man will be hit and killed, but the other five will be saved. Do you pull the lever?
- There are five men working on a trolley track. There is a runaway trolley hurtling down the track toward them. The men do not see the trolley coming. If the trolley hits them, they will all be killed. You are standing on an elevated walkway over the tracks. There is a very large man, a stranger, standing on the walkway next to you. If you give him a very small push, he will fall to the tracks and be killed by the trolley, but he will derail the trolley and the other five will be saved. Do you push him?
The guy on the radio said that almost everyone answered these two question the same way, regardless of age, gender, nationality, or religion. Something like 80ish% answered "No" to the second question. I'm pretty certain he said that everyone answered "Yes" to the first. I'm pretty certain of that, because it surprised me.
I took the test in May. Very recently I was directly invited by Harvard to take it again. I did. The researcher's statement that everyone said "Yes" to the first question surprised me because I twice answered "No" to both questions.
So either they threw out answers they didn't like, or he is inaccurate when he said "everyone". (Perhaps 99.9999% is "everyone"?)
The researchers did brain scans on some people answering the questions. They noted that even though those two particular questions seem very similar, different areas of the brain lit up when people considered them. The theory of the researchers is that pushing the man is seen as murder, and that there is an inborn human resistance to murder, so as soon as the mind recognizes it as murder, the decision is shunted to the "no no no" part of the brain.
He kinda lost me there. Pulling a lever to send a trolley into a man is not murder? Isn't it the same as pulling a trigger? Or pushing someone in front of a train? If there's an inborn resistance to murder even to save others, where do wars come from? How do you make a soldier?
I'm sorry, but it occurs to me that some people may have felt a bit guilty about their first answer, and backed off on the second to say "Oh, now, I'm not THAT bad!" There was probably also a reluctance to actually touch the man in the second question. Touching him is to know him to some degree.
It sounds to me like the researchers started out with a theory and then set out to prove it.
-----------------------------
So, what was my thinking when I answered "No"? Simple, really. Knowing nothing about any of them, I don't think I have the right to decide that those five men are more valuable than that one man. And that's pretty much all that went into my decision. Mere numbers don't mean a lot to me. There's a measure of acceptance of fate in there, too. What is to happen, will. There is purpose in everything. I might even have a sudden overwhelming urge to pull the lever, figuring that if I weren't meant to, it would break.
------------------------------
Later edit - An article about the moral questions is at http://www.wjh.harvard.edu/~jgreene/GreeneWJH/Greene-Haidt-TiCS-02.pdf. See the box on the third page down. The statements made in the box are different from what I remember of the NPR interview. Perhaps he was trying to simplify, and make it sound more interesting.
.
1369 Raining
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
I picked up my new sunglasses today. I love them! The distance vision seems much sharper on these than my regular glasses. The old lenses were too dark brown, so I asked that these be a half-shade lighter, and they are now quite comfortable indoors. I am pleased.
I hadn't brought in the new television sets last night, so when I got home from the mall today I opened the trunk, brought the first one in, and got it all set up. Lots of things I didn't realize. First, I am getting both analog and digital signal on my rooftop antenna. Second, Every one of the six channels I get has at least three incarnations (???), and at least one of each of the three has different programming than on the "regular" channel. I don't understand how that works.
I was standing there admiring my new choices when I heard a crowd applauding in my front yard. It took a second to recognize it as a sudden downpour, and another second to remember that the trunk was open, with the other TV sitting there. It was raining so hard the water was pouring over the sides of the roof gutters. I got soaked running out to get the second TV, and now the Aerio's trunk is full of water.
The local wildlife is doing well. The doe who raises her fawns in my side yard has twins this year, and the three of them are often in my front yard in the morning and evening. There are rabbits all over the place, I see at least five in the yard and eight more on the side of the road every time I head out. This morning when I went down for the mail, there was a wild turkey hen next to my mailbox. She seemed reluctant to move, and then I saw why - she had at least fifteen chicks pecking in the taller weeds next to the road. I can't imagine that they were all hers. Do turkeys do "day care" babysitting like some other animals?
It's still pouring out there, thunder and lightning and all. I absolutely have to take the garbage down to the end of the driveway this evening (I don't produce much - I take it down about every third week), but it's sounding like this rain is settling in for a while. I don't like to walk down the drive after dark. There's too much other wildlife, the kind with fangs and venom, and big grumpy growly things, and the driveway runs close to the woods.
.
I picked up my new sunglasses today. I love them! The distance vision seems much sharper on these than my regular glasses. The old lenses were too dark brown, so I asked that these be a half-shade lighter, and they are now quite comfortable indoors. I am pleased.
I hadn't brought in the new television sets last night, so when I got home from the mall today I opened the trunk, brought the first one in, and got it all set up. Lots of things I didn't realize. First, I am getting both analog and digital signal on my rooftop antenna. Second, Every one of the six channels I get has at least three incarnations (???), and at least one of each of the three has different programming than on the "regular" channel. I don't understand how that works.
I was standing there admiring my new choices when I heard a crowd applauding in my front yard. It took a second to recognize it as a sudden downpour, and another second to remember that the trunk was open, with the other TV sitting there. It was raining so hard the water was pouring over the sides of the roof gutters. I got soaked running out to get the second TV, and now the Aerio's trunk is full of water.
The local wildlife is doing well. The doe who raises her fawns in my side yard has twins this year, and the three of them are often in my front yard in the morning and evening. There are rabbits all over the place, I see at least five in the yard and eight more on the side of the road every time I head out. This morning when I went down for the mail, there was a wild turkey hen next to my mailbox. She seemed reluctant to move, and then I saw why - she had at least fifteen chicks pecking in the taller weeds next to the road. I can't imagine that they were all hers. Do turkeys do "day care" babysitting like some other animals?
It's still pouring out there, thunder and lightning and all. I absolutely have to take the garbage down to the end of the driveway this evening (I don't produce much - I take it down about every third week), but it's sounding like this rain is settling in for a while. I don't like to walk down the drive after dark. There's too much other wildlife, the kind with fangs and venom, and big grumpy growly things, and the driveway runs close to the woods.
.
1368 Irony
This post is dedicated to all ex-employees of The Company who got "riffed" in the 90's, and ended up coming back as contractors (at a higher salary, but with no benefits).
See: http://dilbert.com/comics/dilbert/archive/dilbert-20070710.html
See: http://dilbert.com/comics/dilbert/archive/dilbert-20070710.html
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
1367 Sunglasses; TVs
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Since my prescription has changed, I need new sunglasses. I always get bifocal sunglasses, so I can see both the road and the dashboard when driving. I've been putting it off because the current fashion in frames (weasel gasses) are in my opinion too narrow for sunglasses - sunglasses should provide wide coverage.
This morning I looked at my old pair, and decided it should be possible to put new lenses in the old frames. They're plastic "Jackie O" style, and in pretty good condition, considering that they're fifteen years old.
So, off to the mall, to Lens Crafters. They have my prescription on file, and they're supposed to be able to do them in an hour, right?
They were "backed up". It was going to take 90 minutes. AND cost $200 for the lenses alone, WITH my AAA 15% discount!
Then I went to Best Buy and bought two small (very small) flat-screen High Definition TVs. The set in the bedroom died last week (guns gone), and the kitchen set went this morning (overheating, shuts itself off within seconds), so it's time. Then I walked for the next hour, three circuits of the mall.
When I got back to Lens Crafters, I could see a drama pantomimed through the window into the lab. An older guy was holding up a lens blank, stabbing lines on it with his finger, and shaking his head. The younger guy looked very unhappy. The older one came out and asked me my name, and when I told him, he said "I was afraid of that." That was my lens he'd been shaking his head over.
Everybody always has difficulty with my prescription, and I don't know why. There's nothing special about it, that I know of. But there's something about the rotational angle that the finished lens has to sit in the frame, and if it's slightly off, the prescription is wrong, and I understand that, but they seem to have difficulty getting that angle right. When I walked in, they were on their fourth ruined blank.
So, my sunglasses won't be done until tomorrow. I'll have to go back across the river tomorrow, and I really had other plans.
.
Since my prescription has changed, I need new sunglasses. I always get bifocal sunglasses, so I can see both the road and the dashboard when driving. I've been putting it off because the current fashion in frames (weasel gasses) are in my opinion too narrow for sunglasses - sunglasses should provide wide coverage.
This morning I looked at my old pair, and decided it should be possible to put new lenses in the old frames. They're plastic "Jackie O" style, and in pretty good condition, considering that they're fifteen years old.
So, off to the mall, to Lens Crafters. They have my prescription on file, and they're supposed to be able to do them in an hour, right?
They were "backed up". It was going to take 90 minutes. AND cost $200 for the lenses alone, WITH my AAA 15% discount!
Then I went to Best Buy and bought two small (very small) flat-screen High Definition TVs. The set in the bedroom died last week (guns gone), and the kitchen set went this morning (overheating, shuts itself off within seconds), so it's time. Then I walked for the next hour, three circuits of the mall.
When I got back to Lens Crafters, I could see a drama pantomimed through the window into the lab. An older guy was holding up a lens blank, stabbing lines on it with his finger, and shaking his head. The younger guy looked very unhappy. The older one came out and asked me my name, and when I told him, he said "I was afraid of that." That was my lens he'd been shaking his head over.
Everybody always has difficulty with my prescription, and I don't know why. There's nothing special about it, that I know of. But there's something about the rotational angle that the finished lens has to sit in the frame, and if it's slightly off, the prescription is wrong, and I understand that, but they seem to have difficulty getting that angle right. When I walked in, they were on their fourth ruined blank.
So, my sunglasses won't be done until tomorrow. I'll have to go back across the river tomorrow, and I really had other plans.
.
Monday, July 09, 2007
1366 Hell
Monday, July 9, 2007
[Edit - I added some comment below. AND - I forgot. This is AOL video. If you're reading this on a feed, you'll have to click on the post title above to see the video. Clicking on the link below is useless, and I have no confidence in AOL's keeping it up for more than a day or two. So don't delay. Sheesh. Ask me again why I left AOL.]
Ok, I apologize. I've got to stop posting so many times a day! But I keep finding stuff I want to keep.
This sounds interesting. I'll be watching or recording Friday night. This guy makes sense on one of the reasons I've rejected formal organized religion. I just hope the network sticks to people like him, who have studied and thought. No whackos, please.
[I removed the video because every time anyone entered this journal, the browser took them directly to this point, I assume because the code provided by AOL made it an embedded page. To see the video, click here.]
Later------
I got an email response to this already, an AOLer who is upset that I would promulgate "such garbage".
Ideas for intellectual discussion are not per se a bad thing. Ideas can become bad when they are used to threaten or coerce.
Where one falls on the religious spectrum will determine the reaction to speculation on the existence of Hell. Some will be horrified by the apostacy (the reverend's congregation? the AOLer?), others will be looking for vindication. I think most will simply find it water cooler fodder, with very little effect on what they already believe.
Just for the record, I do believe that everyone has a soul. The mind and body is merely a tool for the soul. The soul enters at birth and leaves at death. But I don't believe in Hell, or Purgatory, or the usual concept of Heaven. My beliefs are quite different.
Here's a question - is the soul simply your mind? If it's something separate, if it enters and leaves, what does it do while it's here? Is it really just sitting there, twiddling its thumbs and tapping its foot? I believe that if you listen, your soul will talk to you. It knows, and if you listen, it will tell you. You don't need someone outside to tell you.
.
[Edit - I added some comment below. AND - I forgot. This is AOL video. If you're reading this on a feed, you'll have to click on the post title above to see the video. Clicking on the link below is useless, and I have no confidence in AOL's keeping it up for more than a day or two. So don't delay. Sheesh. Ask me again why I left AOL.]
Ok, I apologize. I've got to stop posting so many times a day! But I keep finding stuff I want to keep.
This sounds interesting. I'll be watching or recording Friday night. This guy makes sense on one of the reasons I've rejected formal organized religion. I just hope the network sticks to people like him, who have studied and thought. No whackos, please.
[I removed the video because every time anyone entered this journal, the browser took them directly to this point, I assume because the code provided by AOL made it an embedded page. To see the video, click here.]
Later------
I got an email response to this already, an AOLer who is upset that I would promulgate "such garbage".
Ideas for intellectual discussion are not per se a bad thing. Ideas can become bad when they are used to threaten or coerce.
Where one falls on the religious spectrum will determine the reaction to speculation on the existence of Hell. Some will be horrified by the apostacy (the reverend's congregation? the AOLer?), others will be looking for vindication. I think most will simply find it water cooler fodder, with very little effect on what they already believe.
Just for the record, I do believe that everyone has a soul. The mind and body is merely a tool for the soul. The soul enters at birth and leaves at death. But I don't believe in Hell, or Purgatory, or the usual concept of Heaven. My beliefs are quite different.
Here's a question - is the soul simply your mind? If it's something separate, if it enters and leaves, what does it do while it's here? Is it really just sitting there, twiddling its thumbs and tapping its foot? I believe that if you listen, your soul will talk to you. It knows, and if you listen, it will tell you. You don't need someone outside to tell you.
.
1365 Real Men Don't
Monday, July 9, 2007
An "Everyone Loves Raymond" rerun is on, and they're making fun of psychotherapy, and how real men don't need it. The men end up talking with each other more.
I had a discussion with a friend a few days ago. He knows that some parts of his life just aren't working. He thinks it's just that he's got high standards, that he's too much of a perfectionist. I think his problem is that he simply won't let the little things go. He has too much stored up anger. He won't allow, won't forgive, failings in other people, and won't talk with them about it. He said that counselling is out of the question, "My whole family would think I'm nuts."
I can't say anything to him. It wouldn't be received well. I can only listen. But it frustrates me, because I see what he could be without the interference of his suppressed anger.
I ran into that attitude with Ex#1. His entire social set, family, friends, coworkers, were of the opinion that any male who admitted to any kind of emotional therapy was a weakling. They snorted. A real man copes. He's not even allow to admit to a problem. They wouldn't even consider marriage counselling. "Got a problem? Have another beer. Got a problem with her? Give her another beer."
One of his drunken friends was bragging one evening that he'd never been to any kind of therapist, never would, didn't need it. I responded, "That's like a man with a mouth full of rotten teeth bragging that he'd never been to a dentist." But that was in front of each other. I had many private conversations with some of Ex#1's male friends and family members that pretty much turned into therapy sessions. They knew they had broken pieces and hurting places. They just couldn't admit it and remain macho.
Churches contributed to the problem, especially the Catholic Church. They preferred that you talk to the priest or pastor, who counselled you to submit. Self-understanding was definitely not in a hierarchical paternalistic Church's best interest.
It seems like these days getting help is a lot more socially acceptable, at least in the circle I move in now, but a lot harder to get. Medical insurance doesn't want to pay for it, or they limit it. Psychiatrists have pretty much turned into pill dispensers. Psychologists and other varieties of therapists seem to each have a particular school of thought, and they will cram you into the pattern, whether you fit or not.
Jay's therapist had an "inner child" theory. He was quite happy with her, figured that his lack of progress was his fault, not hers. It took rigorous testing in connection with his brain surgery to discover he was Aspie. He was way out of his therapist's league, and she didn't have broad enough training to recognize it.
So someone who says yes, I need to examine this and fix it, can waste a lot of time and money before they find someone, something, that works. A lotta quicksand out there. Sink right in. Maybe the insurance companies are right. Maybe it's easier and cheaper to put the world on Prozac (or whatever is popular now...).
I lucked out. I got me a Jungian talk therapy psychiatrist who simply asked questions ("And why is that, do you think?"), at a time when The Company's insurance plan covered it fully, with no limits. He was exactly right for me, at exactly the right time in my life. He taught me skills that have served me well for the past 26 years (when I disengage enough to use them, that is).
I am grateful. I wish my friend had had the same opportunity. I can see what he could be.
.
An "Everyone Loves Raymond" rerun is on, and they're making fun of psychotherapy, and how real men don't need it. The men end up talking with each other more.
I had a discussion with a friend a few days ago. He knows that some parts of his life just aren't working. He thinks it's just that he's got high standards, that he's too much of a perfectionist. I think his problem is that he simply won't let the little things go. He has too much stored up anger. He won't allow, won't forgive, failings in other people, and won't talk with them about it. He said that counselling is out of the question, "My whole family would think I'm nuts."
I can't say anything to him. It wouldn't be received well. I can only listen. But it frustrates me, because I see what he could be without the interference of his suppressed anger.
I ran into that attitude with Ex#1. His entire social set, family, friends, coworkers, were of the opinion that any male who admitted to any kind of emotional therapy was a weakling. They snorted. A real man copes. He's not even allow to admit to a problem. They wouldn't even consider marriage counselling. "Got a problem? Have another beer. Got a problem with her? Give her another beer."
One of his drunken friends was bragging one evening that he'd never been to any kind of therapist, never would, didn't need it. I responded, "That's like a man with a mouth full of rotten teeth bragging that he'd never been to a dentist." But that was in front of each other. I had many private conversations with some of Ex#1's male friends and family members that pretty much turned into therapy sessions. They knew they had broken pieces and hurting places. They just couldn't admit it and remain macho.
Churches contributed to the problem, especially the Catholic Church. They preferred that you talk to the priest or pastor, who counselled you to submit. Self-understanding was definitely not in a hierarchical paternalistic Church's best interest.
It seems like these days getting help is a lot more socially acceptable, at least in the circle I move in now, but a lot harder to get. Medical insurance doesn't want to pay for it, or they limit it. Psychiatrists have pretty much turned into pill dispensers. Psychologists and other varieties of therapists seem to each have a particular school of thought, and they will cram you into the pattern, whether you fit or not.
Jay's therapist had an "inner child" theory. He was quite happy with her, figured that his lack of progress was his fault, not hers. It took rigorous testing in connection with his brain surgery to discover he was Aspie. He was way out of his therapist's league, and she didn't have broad enough training to recognize it.
So someone who says yes, I need to examine this and fix it, can waste a lot of time and money before they find someone, something, that works. A lotta quicksand out there. Sink right in. Maybe the insurance companies are right. Maybe it's easier and cheaper to put the world on Prozac (or whatever is popular now...).
I lucked out. I got me a Jungian talk therapy psychiatrist who simply asked questions ("And why is that, do you think?"), at a time when The Company's insurance plan covered it fully, with no limits. He was exactly right for me, at exactly the right time in my life. He taught me skills that have served me well for the past 26 years (when I disengage enough to use them, that is).
I am grateful. I wish my friend had had the same opportunity. I can see what he could be.
.
1364 Optical Illusions
Monday, July 9, 2007
Some people are like Slinkies ... not really good for anything, but they still bring a smile to your face when you push them down a flight of stairs.
-----------------------------------------
Found this in my old journal:
Sometimes you can't really know what someone is saying to you. You hear the words, but sometimes the words carry a meaning different from their dictionary definition. If you have no other basis for interpretation, you interpret from your own base.
In an intimate relationship, the only way to fully understand the other person's messages, or lack thereof, is to understand their motivations, how their mind works. If you don't understand that, you don't have an intimate relationship. You're just skimming along the surface.
-----------------------------------------
These arrived from my sister. (Ignore the typos - they came as part of the package.) The second one is especially interesting. I don't know why what happens after you blink happens. More, I can't help wondering HOW someone created it. How do you go about drawing a design that gets that result? Yeah, it's a negative, but usually you can tell what a negative is.
Follow the instructions exactly. For the longest-lasting effect, take the full 30 seconds.
Later edit - I realized that with IrfanView I can make a negative of this. I did, and the negative, with a little unfocusing of the eyes, is exactly what you see on the wall. They want you to blink to unfocus. That's why it takes shape only after you blink (unless you already know what to expect). So, it's drawn black on white, then "negativized" for the illusion.
Some people are like Slinkies ... not really good for anything, but they still bring a smile to your face when you push them down a flight of stairs.
-----------------------------------------
Found this in my old journal:
Sometimes you can't really know what someone is saying to you. You hear the words, but sometimes the words carry a meaning different from their dictionary definition. If you have no other basis for interpretation, you interpret from your own base.
In an intimate relationship, the only way to fully understand the other person's messages, or lack thereof, is to understand their motivations, how their mind works. If you don't understand that, you don't have an intimate relationship. You're just skimming along the surface.
-----------------------------------------
These arrived from my sister. (Ignore the typos - they came as part of the package.) The second one is especially interesting. I don't know why what happens after you blink happens. More, I can't help wondering HOW someone created it. How do you go about drawing a design that gets that result? Yeah, it's a negative, but usually you can tell what a negative is.
Follow the instructions exactly. For the longest-lasting effect, take the full 30 seconds.
Later edit - I realized that with IrfanView I can make a negative of this. I did, and the negative, with a little unfocusing of the eyes, is exactly what you see on the wall. They want you to blink to unfocus. That's why it takes shape only after you blink (unless you already know what to expect). So, it's drawn black on white, then "negativized" for the illusion.
1363 A Story
Monday, July 9, 2007
I found this on a website I while looking for the Silken Drum story. This is different from the classic story, and was unattributed (so I don't feel bad copying it), and I like it better.
--------------------------------------
A mighty warlord, realizing that he was nearing the end of his days, urged his daughter to marry in order to carry on the dynasty.
"The green of the plum tree has come and gone, and it is the time of the blossoms." he told her, "And yet you do not blossom. Will I die without seeing you married, without knowing my grandchildren?"
"No," his daughter said, "I will fashion a drum of silk, stretched over a bamboo frame. The man who hears the music when my fingers strike the drum I will marry."
"Foolishness!" the aging warlord said in frustration. "A silken drum will not make any sound. I shall die without heirs."
But his daughter had her way, and so a drum made of silk was fashioned as she wished.
Many young men came to listen as she played, but none heard any sound.
The months and seasons passed, the plum tree blossoms withered and fell to the ground. And then a handsome young man, finely dressed, came and paid his respects to the aging ruler.
"I have traveled from beyond the mountains and over the seas to ask your daughter's hand in marriage", said the stranger, looking directly at the silent daughter who sat nearby with her silken drum.
"She will only marry the one who can hear the music of her silken drum," sighed the old man. "Don't tell me you heard the sound all the way from your distant kingdom!"
The suitor said, "No, no sound of the drum reached my ears."
"Then be on your way, like the others before you," the old man said. "Why do you linger here?"
"Because, my lord, I hear the silence."
And the young woman smiled and put away her silken drum.
.
I found this on a website I while looking for the Silken Drum story. This is different from the classic story, and was unattributed (so I don't feel bad copying it), and I like it better.
--------------------------------------
A mighty warlord, realizing that he was nearing the end of his days, urged his daughter to marry in order to carry on the dynasty.
"The green of the plum tree has come and gone, and it is the time of the blossoms." he told her, "And yet you do not blossom. Will I die without seeing you married, without knowing my grandchildren?"
"No," his daughter said, "I will fashion a drum of silk, stretched over a bamboo frame. The man who hears the music when my fingers strike the drum I will marry."
"Foolishness!" the aging warlord said in frustration. "A silken drum will not make any sound. I shall die without heirs."
But his daughter had her way, and so a drum made of silk was fashioned as she wished.
Many young men came to listen as she played, but none heard any sound.
The months and seasons passed, the plum tree blossoms withered and fell to the ground. And then a handsome young man, finely dressed, came and paid his respects to the aging ruler.
"I have traveled from beyond the mountains and over the seas to ask your daughter's hand in marriage", said the stranger, looking directly at the silent daughter who sat nearby with her silken drum.
"She will only marry the one who can hear the music of her silken drum," sighed the old man. "Don't tell me you heard the sound all the way from your distant kingdom!"
The suitor said, "No, no sound of the drum reached my ears."
"Then be on your way, like the others before you," the old man said. "Why do you linger here?"
"Because, my lord, I hear the silence."
And the young woman smiled and put away her silken drum.
.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
1362 New Blog Controls
Sunday, July 8, 2007
I decided to try creating a new journal under Blogger, and I discovered a bunch of new controls. AOL, where I started, allowed you to make a journal private, open only to people you specifically allow in. When I switched to Blogger, Blogger didn't have that facility. It was open to the world, period.
It now has privacy controls!
If you go to "settings", on the far right you'll find a "Permissions" tab. You can close your blog to everyone, or allow only certain people in. So you can make it private with "Permissions", and under other settings you can remove it from blogrolls, notices, and feeds. You can make it not show up in your profile. Whoop! Completely hidden!
Of course, what I really want to do is to have it open to strangers and closed to friends, for reasons I've outlined before, but that's not how the permissions work. What I want is impossible, since anyone can create a new email id any time, and become a virtual stranger. Well, half a loaf....
So I decided to start a new blog, open only to me, where I can blast people by name if I want to.
Easier said than done.
Can't get a title. Seems like every possible combination of letters that spells real words is taken! The names I really wanted were already taken, and when I went to the blogs that took those names, almost all of them had ONE post, in 2005, and none since.
Shesh, folks. If you built a blog just to try it out, and have no intention to maintain it, delete it! Give back the name! Let somebody else have it.
I ended up with a name that I just now realized that I'd better write down, because I'm already on the verge of forgetting it.
.
I decided to try creating a new journal under Blogger, and I discovered a bunch of new controls. AOL, where I started, allowed you to make a journal private, open only to people you specifically allow in. When I switched to Blogger, Blogger didn't have that facility. It was open to the world, period.
It now has privacy controls!
If you go to "settings", on the far right you'll find a "Permissions" tab. You can close your blog to everyone, or allow only certain people in. So you can make it private with "Permissions", and under other settings you can remove it from blogrolls, notices, and feeds. You can make it not show up in your profile. Whoop! Completely hidden!
Of course, what I really want to do is to have it open to strangers and closed to friends, for reasons I've outlined before, but that's not how the permissions work. What I want is impossible, since anyone can create a new email id any time, and become a virtual stranger. Well, half a loaf....
So I decided to start a new blog, open only to me, where I can blast people by name if I want to.
Easier said than done.
Can't get a title. Seems like every possible combination of letters that spells real words is taken! The names I really wanted were already taken, and when I went to the blogs that took those names, almost all of them had ONE post, in 2005, and none since.
Shesh, folks. If you built a blog just to try it out, and have no intention to maintain it, delete it! Give back the name! Let somebody else have it.
I ended up with a name that I just now realized that I'd better write down, because I'm already on the verge of forgetting it.
.
1361 Tongue Studs
Sunday, July 8, 2007
I just read that more than half of Americans between 20 and 35 have at least one tattoo or piercing other than ears. That surprised me.
I can understand some piercings, like in the side of the nose. I couldn't understand why anyone would want their tongue pierced, though.
Back when I was mediating, I asked one of the family court girls who had a stud in her tongue why she did it. Seems like it would be annoying. She slid her eyes sideways to her friends and said, "Becauth I like to thuck it." Her friends cracked up.
That was 10 years ago, and I just found out what tongue studs are "good for", and why her friends laughed.
I can't believe I was so naive!
Please, please tell me it's not true! Convince me there's another advantage to them!
But I guess it explains why guys find them fascinating. Effective advertising.
I just read that more than half of Americans between 20 and 35 have at least one tattoo or piercing other than ears. That surprised me.
I can understand some piercings, like in the side of the nose. I couldn't understand why anyone would want their tongue pierced, though.
Back when I was mediating, I asked one of the family court girls who had a stud in her tongue why she did it. Seems like it would be annoying. She slid her eyes sideways to her friends and said, "Becauth I like to thuck it." Her friends cracked up.
That was 10 years ago, and I just found out what tongue studs are "good for", and why her friends laughed.
I can't believe I was so naive!
Please, please tell me it's not true! Convince me there's another advantage to them!
But I guess it explains why guys find them fascinating. Effective advertising.
1360 Avoiding 2
Sunday, July 8, 2007
[Edit - eliminated the problem. The cat can kick dirt over the poopy, but it still smells. Which reminds me - gotta clean the litter box....]
On Friday I bemoaned the fact that this journal no longer serves its original purpose. I thought maybe it had something to do with the fact that people who know me are now reading it. Bec's comment has merit, but that addresses the arrows toward me. They don't bother me. She's correct that I am not very concerned about what others think of me. If I am me, and honest, and they don't like it, then why would I want them close to me anyway?
---------------------------------
Scott Adams had a post today about "Rounders" versus "Accumulators". He says that some people round things off, and some add them up. So if a Rounder has five problems in his life, each of which is a 2 on a scale of 10, then each gets rounded to 0, and if you ask how things are going, he'll say "just fine", because that's how he sees it. Whereas the Accumulator with five 2-rated problems adds them up, and sees himself as having a 10 in problems.
I am usually a Rounder.
This weekend, I am in physical pain. It makes me think of things like undetected tumors, and how long it's been since I had a physical, and diabetes, and death, and what a mess my house is, and how a couple of people are trying to guilt me into things I don't want to do, directions I don't want to go, and how another person has twice made a specific commitment to me and has twice blown it off without a word, smiled and turned away, and another runs hot and cold, and how I may have to fire The Hunk and get a landscaping company in, he's just taking too long to get the side yard done, but The Hunk is a neighbor, and can I do that, what if he gets mad, I depend on him too much, he was hurt when I gave someone else the roofing job, but just how long do I have to wait for my side yard, and so on and on. There's a lot of that kind of 2-rated annoyance going on.
Sometimes, I become a temporary Accumulator.
.
[Edit - eliminated the problem. The cat can kick dirt over the poopy, but it still smells. Which reminds me - gotta clean the litter box....]
On Friday I bemoaned the fact that this journal no longer serves its original purpose. I thought maybe it had something to do with the fact that people who know me are now reading it. Bec's comment has merit, but that addresses the arrows toward me. They don't bother me. She's correct that I am not very concerned about what others think of me. If I am me, and honest, and they don't like it, then why would I want them close to me anyway?
---------------------------------
Scott Adams had a post today about "Rounders" versus "Accumulators". He says that some people round things off, and some add them up. So if a Rounder has five problems in his life, each of which is a 2 on a scale of 10, then each gets rounded to 0, and if you ask how things are going, he'll say "just fine", because that's how he sees it. Whereas the Accumulator with five 2-rated problems adds them up, and sees himself as having a 10 in problems.
I am usually a Rounder.
This weekend, I am in physical pain. It makes me think of things like undetected tumors, and how long it's been since I had a physical, and diabetes, and death, and what a mess my house is, and how a couple of people are trying to guilt me into things I don't want to do, directions I don't want to go, and how another person has twice made a specific commitment to me and has twice blown it off without a word, smiled and turned away, and another runs hot and cold, and how I may have to fire The Hunk and get a landscaping company in, he's just taking too long to get the side yard done, but The Hunk is a neighbor, and can I do that, what if he gets mad, I depend on him too much, he was hurt when I gave someone else the roofing job, but just how long do I have to wait for my side yard, and so on and on. There's a lot of that kind of 2-rated annoyance going on.
Sometimes, I become a temporary Accumulator.
.
1359 I Do Too Hate L0tus
Sunday, July 8, 2007
I friend has said that I can't say I hate Lotus. Lotus is a large library of applications and tools.
Sorry, but I can too say I hate Lotus! I can say anything I want. You are free to disagree.
I am willing to admit that what I really hate is the way the membership data base is set up at the museum. I mean, there are some incredible stupidities. For example, every record has a sequence number. When you create a new record, you have to ASSIGN a sequence number to it. It was not set up to automatically assign the next available number.
In the past, numbers must have been skipped, because there are, say, 2345 records, but the highest sequence number currently in use is 3456. You have to write down numbers as you use them, so you'll know what's the next available number. The first time I created a new record, it took me like 10 tries (hashing) to find the next number. Now I keep a list, but the first time someone else creates a record and picks a high number out of the air, I may be lost again.
My friend said I should be able to list the full database, and then just look at the list to see what the highest number is.
Nope. With the "cuts" and "tabs" we've got, there's no easy way to be sure you obtain the entire data base. It consists of mailing list, paid members, supporters, and advertisers, and all the "cuts" get you some combination of subsets, but not necessarily all.
Also, it's impossible to delete a record. You can't even blank out fields to take it effectively "off the lists", because then you get the error message that "xxx must not be blank", or "xxx must be a valid date". When I find the occasional duplicate record, I write down the sequence number, and then when I create the next new record, I just overwrite the fields in this record with the new information.
I'm sure there's some way to find the last record, and to delete records, there has to be, but I don't know it, and nobody else in the museum does either, and I'm not about to spend my own unpaid time! finding out.
.
I friend has said that I can't say I hate Lotus. Lotus is a large library of applications and tools.
Sorry, but I can too say I hate Lotus! I can say anything I want. You are free to disagree.
I am willing to admit that what I really hate is the way the membership data base is set up at the museum. I mean, there are some incredible stupidities. For example, every record has a sequence number. When you create a new record, you have to ASSIGN a sequence number to it. It was not set up to automatically assign the next available number.
In the past, numbers must have been skipped, because there are, say, 2345 records, but the highest sequence number currently in use is 3456. You have to write down numbers as you use them, so you'll know what's the next available number. The first time I created a new record, it took me like 10 tries (hashing) to find the next number. Now I keep a list, but the first time someone else creates a record and picks a high number out of the air, I may be lost again.
My friend said I should be able to list the full database, and then just look at the list to see what the highest number is.
Nope. With the "cuts" and "tabs" we've got, there's no easy way to be sure you obtain the entire data base. It consists of mailing list, paid members, supporters, and advertisers, and all the "cuts" get you some combination of subsets, but not necessarily all.
Also, it's impossible to delete a record. You can't even blank out fields to take it effectively "off the lists", because then you get the error message that "xxx must not be blank", or "xxx must be a valid date". When I find the occasional duplicate record, I write down the sequence number, and then when I create the next new record, I just overwrite the fields in this record with the new information.
I'm sure there's some way to find the last record, and to delete records, there has to be, but I don't know it, and nobody else in the museum does either, and I'm not about to spend my own unpaid time! finding out.
.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
1358 Observation
Great minds talk about ideas.
Average minds talk about events.
Small minds talk about people.
Average minds talk about events.
Small minds talk about people.
- Eleanor Roosevelt (?)
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1357 Gift Shopping
Saturday, July 7, 2007
I had a finger-check typing the title, and it came out "Gift Shpooing". Maybe I should have left it that way.
When I was wandering through all the little boutiques around the kaleidoscope on Thursday, I noticed several things that would be perfect for three birthdays coming up, and one long past. The one long past is the most difficult to choose for. It has to be perfect. Light in weight, and very masculine. And I thought I had found the perfect thingy. Perfect. More than perfect. Exceeds requirements.
I went back today. The three future gifts were still there, and I got them, and I'm happy. The one past, well, they had some of them still there, but they weren't exactly right. They weren't masculine enough. I left my name with the shop, and they'll call when new stock comes in next week. If none of them are right, they may be able to have one made to order for me. I don't know how long that will take. They're made in India.
By the time I left the shops, my mega-dose of aspirin had worn off, and I was in real pain. I had fallen asleep on my stomach for three nights in a row, and now I have complaining nerves. It's the ones that go to the intestines, so the pain isn't in the back, it's in the abdomen. Knots, writhing. It's pretty bad. (Sex is the best thing for it, but a bubble bath and aspirin, a distant second, is the best I can do.)
But, as I passed Just Alan, I saw a sign up. "Retiring" "Everything Must GO" "30%-40% off"
Alan's store in Woodstock is mostly about magic. His Route 28 store is about antiques and Asian items. How could I not stop?
I bought some (modern, but Victorian-looking) barrettes, a silver case, and scented soap. I didn't buy THE LAMP. Oh, I want it. It's perfect for the desk in the living room. It's Art Deco, a cluster of bronze stems, like a bunch of lilies tied together, the flower heads drooping over at the top. The flowers are delicate lilies in frosted peach glass, ten or twelve of them I suppose. The wiring is the old fabric-wrapped stuff, so it would need rewiring, but I can do that myself.
The price tag said $1250.00, and it's a steal at that, but it's 30% off, so with tax it would come in under $900. Alan was accepting only cash during the sale, so I was safe from impulse. And tomorrow is Sunday, and the ATM will limit how much I can take out, so I'm safe tomorrow, too. And he's not open during the week. So.
The lamp was almost as good as sex. My stomach didn't hurt again until I got back to my car.
It looks sort of like this, but it's not Tiffany. The Tiffany lamp below was listed with James D. Julia Auctioneers (http://www.jamesdjulia.net/) in 2005, I believe, estimated at $27,600.00. "My" shades were more realistic in shape, with a fold and "lip".
.
I had a finger-check typing the title, and it came out "Gift Shpooing". Maybe I should have left it that way.
When I was wandering through all the little boutiques around the kaleidoscope on Thursday, I noticed several things that would be perfect for three birthdays coming up, and one long past. The one long past is the most difficult to choose for. It has to be perfect. Light in weight, and very masculine. And I thought I had found the perfect thingy. Perfect. More than perfect. Exceeds requirements.
I went back today. The three future gifts were still there, and I got them, and I'm happy. The one past, well, they had some of them still there, but they weren't exactly right. They weren't masculine enough. I left my name with the shop, and they'll call when new stock comes in next week. If none of them are right, they may be able to have one made to order for me. I don't know how long that will take. They're made in India.
By the time I left the shops, my mega-dose of aspirin had worn off, and I was in real pain. I had fallen asleep on my stomach for three nights in a row, and now I have complaining nerves. It's the ones that go to the intestines, so the pain isn't in the back, it's in the abdomen. Knots, writhing. It's pretty bad. (Sex is the best thing for it, but a bubble bath and aspirin, a distant second, is the best I can do.)
But, as I passed Just Alan, I saw a sign up. "Retiring" "Everything Must GO" "30%-40% off"
Alan's store in Woodstock is mostly about magic. His Route 28 store is about antiques and Asian items. How could I not stop?
I bought some (modern, but Victorian-looking) barrettes, a silver case, and scented soap. I didn't buy THE LAMP. Oh, I want it. It's perfect for the desk in the living room. It's Art Deco, a cluster of bronze stems, like a bunch of lilies tied together, the flower heads drooping over at the top. The flowers are delicate lilies in frosted peach glass, ten or twelve of them I suppose. The wiring is the old fabric-wrapped stuff, so it would need rewiring, but I can do that myself.
The price tag said $1250.00, and it's a steal at that, but it's 30% off, so with tax it would come in under $900. Alan was accepting only cash during the sale, so I was safe from impulse. And tomorrow is Sunday, and the ATM will limit how much I can take out, so I'm safe tomorrow, too. And he's not open during the week. So.
The lamp was almost as good as sex. My stomach didn't hurt again until I got back to my car.
It looks sort of like this, but it's not Tiffany. The Tiffany lamp below was listed with James D. Julia Auctioneers (http://www.jamesdjulia.net/) in 2005, I believe, estimated at $27,600.00. "My" shades were more realistic in shape, with a fold and "lip".
.
Friday, July 06, 2007
1356 Avoiding
Friday, July 6, 2007
[Edit - removed a paragraph that caused conflict.]
The original purpose of this journal was to examine my thoughts and feelings. I haven't done any of that in a long time. Instead, this has turned into a daily activity log.
I don't know why.
Journaling got me through recovery after Jay's death, when I was finally able to examine my feelings, when I was finally ready to put them away. Putting them on "paper" got them out of my head, but kept them real, not lost. I got emails from complete strangers who had stumbled upon the early, exploratory, AOL entries, and many said that they'd never read anything so raw and yet so beautiful, that they were amazed that I could expose myself to that degree. I didn't see it that way. It is what it is, and I've never hidden my feelings.
Journaling helped again when I was sorely hurt a while ago. When my mind was confused and running in circles, when I felt that my trust had been so misplaced and so badly betrayed, writing it all down helped to make it linear, helped me to see what was really happening, not what I wanted it to be, but what it was. Putting it on "paper" defused the murderously destructive feelings. I had strangers telling me that they couldn't believe that it was real, that it had to be fiction. I let them believe that, but it was what it was, and I've never hidden my feelings.
Except from myself.
The introspection is gone.
My initial thought was that perhaps it's because I now have a few people reading this who know me personally. Some, like The Gypsy, I'm not worried about, because I know that whatever I say, she will understand. But others? I'm not so sure. I hesitate to expose myself to people who know me, and might judge me.
I'm not sure that's the whole reason. I'm simply not very introspective these days. I think I'm hiding something from myself.
All the more reason to explore it.
A friend asked why the emotional exploration has to be public. Why can't I just write my thoughts in a private journal? Because making it public, even if it's only strangers out there, keeps it honest. In a private journal, it's too easy to lie to myself. Too easy to use faulty logic, to make excuses for others, in the guise of explanations (why did that just hurt?).
Even strangers will call you on that kind of subterfuge.
.
[Edit - removed a paragraph that caused conflict.]
The original purpose of this journal was to examine my thoughts and feelings. I haven't done any of that in a long time. Instead, this has turned into a daily activity log.
I don't know why.
Journaling got me through recovery after Jay's death, when I was finally able to examine my feelings, when I was finally ready to put them away. Putting them on "paper" got them out of my head, but kept them real, not lost. I got emails from complete strangers who had stumbled upon the early, exploratory, AOL entries, and many said that they'd never read anything so raw and yet so beautiful, that they were amazed that I could expose myself to that degree. I didn't see it that way. It is what it is, and I've never hidden my feelings.
Journaling helped again when I was sorely hurt a while ago. When my mind was confused and running in circles, when I felt that my trust had been so misplaced and so badly betrayed, writing it all down helped to make it linear, helped me to see what was really happening, not what I wanted it to be, but what it was. Putting it on "paper" defused the murderously destructive feelings. I had strangers telling me that they couldn't believe that it was real, that it had to be fiction. I let them believe that, but it was what it was, and I've never hidden my feelings.
Except from myself.
The introspection is gone.
My initial thought was that perhaps it's because I now have a few people reading this who know me personally. Some, like The Gypsy, I'm not worried about, because I know that whatever I say, she will understand. But others? I'm not so sure. I hesitate to expose myself to people who know me, and might judge me.
I'm not sure that's the whole reason. I'm simply not very introspective these days. I think I'm hiding something from myself.
All the more reason to explore it.
A friend asked why the emotional exploration has to be public. Why can't I just write my thoughts in a private journal? Because making it public, even if it's only strangers out there, keeps it honest. In a private journal, it's too easy to lie to myself. Too easy to use faulty logic, to make excuses for others, in the guise of explanations (why did that just hurt?).
Even strangers will call you on that kind of subterfuge.
.
1355 Museum, Hail, etc.
Friday, July 6, 2007
A newswoman was talking this morning about all the weddings and Cesarean sections scheduled for tomorrow, and she said that tomorrow is "the luckiest day in history". Uh, what? There was no July 7 in, say, 1907? How 'bout 1977? If three 7s is good, is four better?
Chuck Ferris points out that babies born tomorrow will be 77 on 7/7/77. That's kind of neat. [Whoops! Quick edit - wrong, Chuck. They'll be 70.]
------------------------------------
I went to the museum today, and sent out membership cards to 32 members. I hate Lotus.
There were a few screwups because of the stupid data base application. Things don't get "domino'ed" through, and every record has to be individually searched, and if someone doesn't search exactly correctly, we get double records for the same member, and there's no way we'd ever find out. It also doesn't assign the next number in sequence to new records. You have to keep track yourself of the last number used. I hate Lotus.
Betty says that the woman who set it up (another volunteer) "said she knew all about data bases". Well, I replied that when someone says that, they usually actually know only one or two applications at the most, and they'll set things up in the same way they had used it in the past - whether it suits this purpose or not. (I hate Lotus.)
What the museum really needs is someone who knows several of the popular data base packages, who can look at what we do with it and want from it, and then recommend the one, or even two, most suited to our needs.
I gave them a recommendation of someone who can do exactly that, but they haven't followed up on it. (I hate Lotus. Or at least this incarnation of it....)
--------------------------------------
While I was at the museum we had a hail storm. Hailstones the size of marbles. It was short, but I guess Route 32 got it either worse or longer than the Rondout did. When I was driving home, the sections of 32 where the trees are close to the road were completely covered in bits of shredded leaf. No branches down, but a lot of shredded leaf. It made the road slippery.
--------------------------------------
The checks from the stock sales are starting to roll in. Some are coming by mail, but the larger ones are hand-delivered. I got five today. Piper will be pleased.
.
A newswoman was talking this morning about all the weddings and Cesarean sections scheduled for tomorrow, and she said that tomorrow is "the luckiest day in history". Uh, what? There was no July 7 in, say, 1907? How 'bout 1977? If three 7s is good, is four better?
Chuck Ferris points out that babies born tomorrow will be 77 on 7/7/77. That's kind of neat. [Whoops! Quick edit - wrong, Chuck. They'll be 70.]
------------------------------------
I went to the museum today, and sent out membership cards to 32 members. I hate Lotus.
There were a few screwups because of the stupid data base application. Things don't get "domino'ed" through, and every record has to be individually searched, and if someone doesn't search exactly correctly, we get double records for the same member, and there's no way we'd ever find out. It also doesn't assign the next number in sequence to new records. You have to keep track yourself of the last number used. I hate Lotus.
Betty says that the woman who set it up (another volunteer) "said she knew all about data bases". Well, I replied that when someone says that, they usually actually know only one or two applications at the most, and they'll set things up in the same way they had used it in the past - whether it suits this purpose or not. (I hate Lotus.)
What the museum really needs is someone who knows several of the popular data base packages, who can look at what we do with it and want from it, and then recommend the one, or even two, most suited to our needs.
I gave them a recommendation of someone who can do exactly that, but they haven't followed up on it. (I hate Lotus. Or at least this incarnation of it....)
--------------------------------------
While I was at the museum we had a hail storm. Hailstones the size of marbles. It was short, but I guess Route 32 got it either worse or longer than the Rondout did. When I was driving home, the sections of 32 where the trees are close to the road were completely covered in bits of shredded leaf. No branches down, but a lot of shredded leaf. It made the road slippery.
--------------------------------------
The checks from the stock sales are starting to roll in. Some are coming by mail, but the larger ones are hand-delivered. I got five today. Piper will be pleased.
.
1354 Overheard
Friday, July 6, 2007
Overheard from the booth behind at dinner last night:
"Every child holds on to the hope that someday his parents will be normal."
... which would have been funny, except that the topic of conversation was family court issues.
.
Overheard from the booth behind at dinner last night:
"Every child holds on to the hope that someday his parents will be normal."
... which would have been funny, except that the topic of conversation was family court issues.
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1353 Kaleidoscope 2
Found a short clip!
[If you're on a feed and don't see a video clip, click on the post title.]
This seems to be a bit speeded up, but it is essentially what you see as you lie on the floor:
There are the usual three mirrors, but the mirrors are tapered and angled, so that you see a globe, rather than a flat display.
.
[If you're on a feed and don't see a video clip, click on the post title.]
This seems to be a bit speeded up, but it is essentially what you see as you lie on the floor:
There are the usual three mirrors, but the mirrors are tapered and angled, so that you see a globe, rather than a flat display.
.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
1352 Kaleidoscope
Thursday, July 5, 2007
A few weeks ago I discovered that a friend had never seen the Mt Tremper kaleidoscope, the world's largest (at 60 feet - you lie on the floor inside). So today we went to see it.
He picked me up this morning, and we drove to Mt. Tremper. I was surprised to see that there were actually tubers on the Esopus. They must be doing a lot of portaging, because there's almost no water in the creek. Even when the water is high and fast, one of the hazards is hitting your backside (hanging down through the center of the tube) on rocks. I bet there'll be a lot of bruised tourist bottoms this evening!
We wandered through all the shops surrounding the kaleidoscope. They have a lot of beautiful stuff, very expensive, but not overpriced. There's a kaleidoscope store, full of handmade kaleidoscopes of every description, every material, and you can look through all of them.
Then we settled on the floor in the monster kaleidoscope for the 10-minute show. It's pretty good, but mainly it's just being able to say you've seen it.
Back through the shops again. In the country store, the clerk offered me a taste of biscotti, chocolate, no less, "Try this, it'll change your life!" She didn't understand why I cracked up. Giggled for a half hour. Private joke. Don't ask.
We had a late lunch at a restaurant recommended by a clerk, who said that if we wanted burgers, we wouldn't find it there, but "blah blah Culinary Institute blah delicious food blah blah." It was quite a ways up the road, but we found it, and it was a sandwich joint! We'd imagined white tablecloths and flowers, and got sticky formica and ordinary food. Must be friends of the clerk.
We consulted the map, looking for a back-route home, and ended up swinging around and coming down Platte Clove Road. That's another experience he had missed, and another of those things you have to do once. It's pretty scary, but the view down down down into the clove is worth it.
We passed the sign for Opus 40, and lo, he didn't even know what that is, so there's another expedition for sometime. I can't believe he's lived in this area for decades, and missed so much.
We ended up in Rhinebeck, dinner at the Mill House Panda.
I got home about 8:30. It was a very nice day.
-----------------------------------
There was one major disappointment today. The last time I went to the Rive Gauche Moroccan night, I tried to call a few days ahead for reservations, and was told that they didn't take reservations until the day before the event. So I held off calling until this afternoon, and then when I tried, we were up in the mountains, and there was no cell signal. I wasn't able to call until late afternoon, and was then told that they were full, no more room.
Ack!
Willow is dancing tomorrow night, and we can't get in? I might have to go and press my nose against the window glass. I'll have to find some tattered rags to wear.
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Wednesday, July 04, 2007
1351 Aural Pyrotechnics
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
I joined FW at Omega at 5 pm. She bought her drum in the bookstore. It's small, very prettily painted in a rainbow of colors and swirling patterns. She's very pleased with it. I thought it was shockingly expensive. The head is tacked and glued, which means that when it stretches, you can't tighten it. There was another plain one with a roped head that I recommended (you tighten it by slipping wedges under the ropes), for slightly over half the price of the one she liked, but she wanted a pretty one. I guess it doesn't matter so much how it plays as how you feel when you play it, so maybe the pretty one was the best choice for her.
The food at Omega is excellent, if you don't mind a dearth of meat. Before we went to the bookstore I had some cucumber yogurt soup in the cafe, that was perfectly seasoned with some unidentified herb. A buffet dinner was served in the dining hall. The only meat was lemon tilapia. I don't usually care for fish, but this was delicious. I had two pieces. The other protein was roasted tofu. Again, a surprise. It had been tossed in tahini before roasting, and it was perfect. I had two servings of that, too. The salad dressing was a neon green house creation involving bananas, some exotic fruits, and mint. Very good. Everything was good, even the steamed broccoli and the rice salads, both herbed perfectly.
I recommend dinner at Omega. You stop by the Guest Services office, sign in and buy a $10 dinner ticket, and show up at the dining hall.
The concert was free. I didn't write down the guy's name, figuring I could find him on the internet - but the Omega online calendar doesn't list the concerts! Oh well. I liked his voice on the ballads, and he certainly can play the guitar, but most of the selections were very raucous, very hard rock, and even on most of the "softer" stuff he beat the guitar up so brutally it drowned out his voice. He did some interesting vocal things, and some of the songs (his own) were funny or poignant, and I'd have liked to have heard them more clearly.
So, a good evening.
.
I joined FW at Omega at 5 pm. She bought her drum in the bookstore. It's small, very prettily painted in a rainbow of colors and swirling patterns. She's very pleased with it. I thought it was shockingly expensive. The head is tacked and glued, which means that when it stretches, you can't tighten it. There was another plain one with a roped head that I recommended (you tighten it by slipping wedges under the ropes), for slightly over half the price of the one she liked, but she wanted a pretty one. I guess it doesn't matter so much how it plays as how you feel when you play it, so maybe the pretty one was the best choice for her.
The food at Omega is excellent, if you don't mind a dearth of meat. Before we went to the bookstore I had some cucumber yogurt soup in the cafe, that was perfectly seasoned with some unidentified herb. A buffet dinner was served in the dining hall. The only meat was lemon tilapia. I don't usually care for fish, but this was delicious. I had two pieces. The other protein was roasted tofu. Again, a surprise. It had been tossed in tahini before roasting, and it was perfect. I had two servings of that, too. The salad dressing was a neon green house creation involving bananas, some exotic fruits, and mint. Very good. Everything was good, even the steamed broccoli and the rice salads, both herbed perfectly.
I recommend dinner at Omega. You stop by the Guest Services office, sign in and buy a $10 dinner ticket, and show up at the dining hall.
The concert was free. I didn't write down the guy's name, figuring I could find him on the internet - but the Omega online calendar doesn't list the concerts! Oh well. I liked his voice on the ballads, and he certainly can play the guitar, but most of the selections were very raucous, very hard rock, and even on most of the "softer" stuff he beat the guitar up so brutally it drowned out his voice. He did some interesting vocal things, and some of the songs (his own) were funny or poignant, and I'd have liked to have heard them more clearly.
So, a good evening.
.
1350 Beautiful!
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
[If you're on feed, and don't see the video, click on the blog title.]
Just found this. Very different, and beautiful. I don't know what that metal doohicky on the left is, but I love it! I want one! I want to touch it! Anyone know what it's called?
More! I've found a new love!!!!
I'm on a roll here.... It's called a "Hang Drum", invented in Switzerland in about 2001, and difficult to find in the states. Also expensive. I am now embarked on a search.
.
[If you're on feed, and don't see the video, click on the blog title.]
Just found this. Very different, and beautiful. I don't know what that metal doohicky on the left is, but I love it! I want one! I want to touch it! Anyone know what it's called?
More! I've found a new love!!!!
I'm on a roll here.... It's called a "Hang Drum", invented in Switzerland in about 2001, and difficult to find in the states. Also expensive. I am now embarked on a search.
.
1349 Another Passion
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
[If you read this on a feed, the embedded video may not show. Click on the post title to see it.]
FW just called. She invited me to join her at Omega Institute tonight for dinner and a concert, and to shop for a djembe (an African hand drum, usually carved wood, with a goatskin head). She's thinking of joining a drum circle. Coincidence?
I seem to be on a theme lately. Here's another passion of mine:
I love bagpipes, and the military drum tattoos. But just hearing a recording doesn't do it. I have to SEE it. I guess it's the attire, and the faces, and the movement I have to experience, too. Also, a recording doesn't make that throb in the chest that you get in person, when the sound becomes part of your body.
Part of my love for bagpipes is that I deeply appreciate skill and craftsmanship wherever I find it (oddly, I don't necessarily have the same respect for talent), and bagpipes require hard work and dedication.
Irish (uillean) pipes require in addition a dose of insanity. Here's some Irish bagpipe playing. Note the bellows under the right elbow. Unlike the Scottish bagpipe, the Irish pipe player can play the drones, too.
I've seen Joe McKenna play Irish bagpipes, at Wolf Trap, in the early 80's (the same festival where I fell in love with zydeco). Joe's had several drones with exposed reeds, lying across his lap, and one hand whipped back and forth from the chanter (I think that's what it's called) to the drones. Fascinating. Here's a picture showing Joe's instrument.
I love bodhran, too. Here's a guy who's really good
And hammered dulcimer, oh, Lordy, hammered dulcimer:
There are so many sounds and sights that will stop me in my tracks.
You know, it's good to have things outside yourself that excite you.
.
[If you read this on a feed, the embedded video may not show. Click on the post title to see it.]
FW just called. She invited me to join her at Omega Institute tonight for dinner and a concert, and to shop for a djembe (an African hand drum, usually carved wood, with a goatskin head). She's thinking of joining a drum circle. Coincidence?
I seem to be on a theme lately. Here's another passion of mine:
I love bagpipes, and the military drum tattoos. But just hearing a recording doesn't do it. I have to SEE it. I guess it's the attire, and the faces, and the movement I have to experience, too. Also, a recording doesn't make that throb in the chest that you get in person, when the sound becomes part of your body.
Part of my love for bagpipes is that I deeply appreciate skill and craftsmanship wherever I find it (oddly, I don't necessarily have the same respect for talent), and bagpipes require hard work and dedication.
Irish (uillean) pipes require in addition a dose of insanity. Here's some Irish bagpipe playing. Note the bellows under the right elbow. Unlike the Scottish bagpipe, the Irish pipe player can play the drones, too.
I've seen Joe McKenna play Irish bagpipes, at Wolf Trap, in the early 80's (the same festival where I fell in love with zydeco). Joe's had several drones with exposed reeds, lying across his lap, and one hand whipped back and forth from the chanter (I think that's what it's called) to the drones. Fascinating. Here's a picture showing Joe's instrument.
I love bodhran, too. Here's a guy who's really good
And hammered dulcimer, oh, Lordy, hammered dulcimer:
There are so many sounds and sights that will stop me in my tracks.
You know, it's good to have things outside yourself that excite you.
.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
1348 Penmanship Shmenmanship, Who Cares?
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Rereading the previous post, I get a feeling of suppressed annoyance. It really has nothing to do with the credit card issue, because that has nothing to do with me.
It's penmanship.
And other idiocies.
Renewals aren't too bad - I stick a preprinted label on the form when I mail them out, so it's easy to figure out who sent it back with their check. Of course, there's always the three or four who don't return the form with their checks, or who for some unknown reason tear the top part, with the label, off. Duh? Why? There's always a few.
The real frustration comes from the new members. They fill out the form with their name, address, phone number, and email address.
Don't they realize that someone has to READ that thing? Is this a "1", or a "7", or a "9"? Is that an "o", or a "u", or an "a" ? And then there are the ones whose name is just a scrawl - I can't even tell how many letters there are, let alone what individual letters are. Of the 18 new members in this batch today, I had difficulty reading 12 of them. I could take the information off the checks for a few, or a preprinted return label on the envelope, but the rest I had to guess.
That really really bugs me.
Then there's the folks who put their full name and address on the form - and leave off the zip code. They don't know their zip code? They don't write or dictate their address very often?
I don't understand.
When I worked for The Company I often ran meetings where attendance was mandatory. I passed around an attendance form, and each and every time, I warned people that if I couldn't read their names, they would NOT be credited with attendance, and they'd have to go through it again. And yet, after every meeting, I couldn't figure out fully 20% of the names, even with the department lists in hand for comparison.
Idiots.
Yeah. I'm frustrated.
.
Rereading the previous post, I get a feeling of suppressed annoyance. It really has nothing to do with the credit card issue, because that has nothing to do with me.
It's penmanship.
And other idiocies.
Renewals aren't too bad - I stick a preprinted label on the form when I mail them out, so it's easy to figure out who sent it back with their check. Of course, there's always the three or four who don't return the form with their checks, or who for some unknown reason tear the top part, with the label, off. Duh? Why? There's always a few.
The real frustration comes from the new members. They fill out the form with their name, address, phone number, and email address.
Don't they realize that someone has to READ that thing? Is this a "1", or a "7", or a "9"? Is that an "o", or a "u", or an "a" ? And then there are the ones whose name is just a scrawl - I can't even tell how many letters there are, let alone what individual letters are. Of the 18 new members in this batch today, I had difficulty reading 12 of them. I could take the information off the checks for a few, or a preprinted return label on the envelope, but the rest I had to guess.
That really really bugs me.
Then there's the folks who put their full name and address on the form - and leave off the zip code. They don't know their zip code? They don't write or dictate their address very often?
I don't understand.
When I worked for The Company I often ran meetings where attendance was mandatory. I passed around an attendance form, and each and every time, I warned people that if I couldn't read their names, they would NOT be credited with attendance, and they'd have to go through it again. And yet, after every meeting, I couldn't figure out fully 20% of the names, even with the department lists in hand for comparison.
Idiots.
Yeah. I'm frustrated.
.
1347 To the Museum
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
To the Maritime Museum volunteer gig this afternoon. I processed new member and renewal checks. The first half-hour was opening envelopes. The second half-hour was making copies of the forms and checks to leave on the accountant's desk. The last two hours was updating the membership info in the database.
I hate Lotus.
We found an "uh-oh" with the new dues payment forms. The museum wants to start accepting credit cards, so there's a space on the form for the type of card, the number, and a signature. No space for the expiration date. Cute. That's the letters I sent out last week, so this month we'll start getting payments we can't process. Real cute.
Well, that's the coordinator's problem, not mine. I refused to have anything to do with credit cards the first time it was proposed.
"We're going to start accepting credit cards for the dues, so you'll have to process them in the gift shop."
"No."
"Huh?"
"No. I won't do credit cards."
"Huh?"
"I don't want to do credit cards. If you want credit cards done, someone else'll have to do them. I've got more than enough to do now. I won't take on more."
"Oh."
Man, as a volunteer, you can pretty much dictate your terms. Lots better than being an employee!
The credit card machine is downstairs in the gift shop, and it's temperamental. Last week some woman bought like $45 worth of stuff in the shop, and the machine overcharged her card by fifty-some dollars. The volunteer on the register followed the printed instructions to cancel the transaction, then tried to refund the card, and nothing worked. She offered the woman a cash refund from the register, and the woman, tapping her foot impatiently, refused it. Small panic, phone calls made.
Hain't no way I'm touching that fool machine. Sounds like something a paid employee should do anyway.
No plans for tomorrow.
I guess I have to admit I did waste time yesterday. Absolutely no other person has been in this house in the past year. The place is a mess. When Roman picked me up to go Mass MOCA a few weeks ago, I was waiting outside for him. He asked if he could use my bathroom, and I said "No. We'll go to the diner." He was shocked, but nope, no one's seeing the inside of this house until I can clean up. I used to say it's cluttered, but at least it's clean clutter. Now the clutter is so bad, I can't clean.
Roman's house is a mess, too, stacks of paper on every surface and the floor, but that's different and ok. He lets me in his house (but nobody else, only me). He doesn't understand the difference. I said, "Well, when a man sees a woman's house all messy, he thinks, 'Yuck. She's a rotten housekeeper.' When a woman sees a man's house all messy, she thinks, 'Aw, so male. He needs a woman.' And that's a BIG difference."
So, tomorrow I move storage containers to the basement, and see if I can't get some order in one or two corners, at least.
.
To the Maritime Museum volunteer gig this afternoon. I processed new member and renewal checks. The first half-hour was opening envelopes. The second half-hour was making copies of the forms and checks to leave on the accountant's desk. The last two hours was updating the membership info in the database.
I hate Lotus.
We found an "uh-oh" with the new dues payment forms. The museum wants to start accepting credit cards, so there's a space on the form for the type of card, the number, and a signature. No space for the expiration date. Cute. That's the letters I sent out last week, so this month we'll start getting payments we can't process. Real cute.
Well, that's the coordinator's problem, not mine. I refused to have anything to do with credit cards the first time it was proposed.
"We're going to start accepting credit cards for the dues, so you'll have to process them in the gift shop."
"No."
"Huh?"
"No. I won't do credit cards."
"Huh?"
"I don't want to do credit cards. If you want credit cards done, someone else'll have to do them. I've got more than enough to do now. I won't take on more."
"Oh."
Man, as a volunteer, you can pretty much dictate your terms. Lots better than being an employee!
The credit card machine is downstairs in the gift shop, and it's temperamental. Last week some woman bought like $45 worth of stuff in the shop, and the machine overcharged her card by fifty-some dollars. The volunteer on the register followed the printed instructions to cancel the transaction, then tried to refund the card, and nothing worked. She offered the woman a cash refund from the register, and the woman, tapping her foot impatiently, refused it. Small panic, phone calls made.
Hain't no way I'm touching that fool machine. Sounds like something a paid employee should do anyway.
No plans for tomorrow.
I guess I have to admit I did waste time yesterday. Absolutely no other person has been in this house in the past year. The place is a mess. When Roman picked me up to go Mass MOCA a few weeks ago, I was waiting outside for him. He asked if he could use my bathroom, and I said "No. We'll go to the diner." He was shocked, but nope, no one's seeing the inside of this house until I can clean up. I used to say it's cluttered, but at least it's clean clutter. Now the clutter is so bad, I can't clean.
Roman's house is a mess, too, stacks of paper on every surface and the floor, but that's different and ok. He lets me in his house (but nobody else, only me). He doesn't understand the difference. I said, "Well, when a man sees a woman's house all messy, he thinks, 'Yuck. She's a rotten housekeeper.' When a woman sees a man's house all messy, she thinks, 'Aw, so male. He needs a woman.' And that's a BIG difference."
So, tomorrow I move storage containers to the basement, and see if I can't get some order in one or two corners, at least.
.
Monday, July 02, 2007
1346 More D&B Corps
Monday, July 2, 2007
When you view the videos in the prior post, at the end of each you are offered more related choices. I've spent (absolutely NOT "wasted") most of today watching all I could find. Yeah, this is a passion, one that's been neglected for far too long.
The Cavaliers are my favorites, because they are so precise on the field patterns, and they don't try to put on a Broadway show, like so many others. Here's an example of the patterns:
And another, shorter but maybe better:
I keep calling them kids. My drum line buddies of '97 said that they age out the day they turn 21 (I think I remember 21), but in practical fact, they usually drop out when they go to college, because they just don't have the time for the hours and hours of winter practice, and to spend all summer living on a bus going from competition to competition. They look so grown up in these videos. The following is a video of a BBQ hosted by alumni of the Cavaliers. Watch the current members as they come through the food line. These are KIDS! Teenagers.
Hmmmm. Drums have an effect on me. Now I need me a man....
.
When you view the videos in the prior post, at the end of each you are offered more related choices. I've spent (absolutely NOT "wasted") most of today watching all I could find. Yeah, this is a passion, one that's been neglected for far too long.
The Cavaliers are my favorites, because they are so precise on the field patterns, and they don't try to put on a Broadway show, like so many others. Here's an example of the patterns:
And another, shorter but maybe better:
I keep calling them kids. My drum line buddies of '97 said that they age out the day they turn 21 (I think I remember 21), but in practical fact, they usually drop out when they go to college, because they just don't have the time for the hours and hours of winter practice, and to spend all summer living on a bus going from competition to competition. They look so grown up in these videos. The following is a video of a BBQ hosted by alumni of the Cavaliers. Watch the current members as they come through the food line. These are KIDS! Teenagers.
Hmmmm. Drums have an effect on me. Now I need me a man....
.
1345 Drum Lines
Monday, July 2, 2007
[If you're looking at a feed and don't see imbedded videos, click on the post title.]
I was watching a Metcafe video linked by another blogger, and when it finished, this was offered: http://www.metacafe.com/watch/699860/awesome_drummers/. Thrilling! (I haven't been able to figure out how to imbed it, sorry. )
It reminded me that I haven't been to a Drum & Bugle Corps competition in ages. There's one at the stadium in Kingston every summer, and the past few years, well, since Jay got sick, I've missed it. I just wasn't paying attention.
I love drum and bugle corps, especially the drum line. I love to hear them, and to watch them. Its a passion of mine. And here's why:
That was the Blue Devils, of Concord, CA, one of the top corps, in rehearsal. The sound! The precision! The Rockettes have nothing on these kids.
The next is the Cavaliers, from Illinois, warming up before competition.
Doesn't that thrill you to your very toes? My heart beats faster watching them. When the competitions are in Kingston, you find this sort of thing happening in parks, parking lots, and on lawns all over The Stockade all afternoon of "the day".
An evening I will remember as one of the best of my life was at a D&B competition. It was just before Jay got ill. He had something to do that evening, so I went alone. I was in the lower seating in the stadium, and a man came with two very young children, which he seated next to me, in about the only two seats left. He strongly cautioned them that they were to stay there, not to move, "I'll be just up there", and seemed concerned about leaving them alone. So as he as leaving to go to his own seat, I offered to trade seats with him. He gratefully accepted, and ... I found myself sitting in the middle of the alumni of the (long defunct) Kingston D&B corps!
At first they seemed a bit disconcerted to find a tiny white lady in their midst, but when I started asking questions, they were happy to have a receptive pupil. I learned sooooo much about what looks hard but is actually easy, what looks easy but is very difficult and why, what gathers points. All the technical stuff to appreciate, "Now, watch this! No, not the snares, watch the left! Woooo! Did you see that!" The guys on either side of me lifted me up high when the crowd stood, so I could see. I had an absolutely wonderful time.
They talked about how much the corps had done for them. That if it hadn't been for the discipline and pride they got from the corps, they wouldn't be where they were today. Every one of them had some kind of college degree, several owned their own successful businesses, a few were programmers with The Company. That if it hadn't been for the corps, they'd probably still be on the streets kicking stones, and that with all the problems Kingston had with midtown youth, the city was missing a bet by not resurrecting the corps.
I pointed out that they, themselves, were in a position to make a difference. The mayor was interested in things that would improve the city. Maybe they could get the Chamber of Commerce interested. All they really needed was a director and funding. By the end of the evening, they were taking about sources of funding.
I'm almost ashamed to say that I don't know if Kingston now has a corps. But I do know that shortly after that evening, Highland started a corps, and Port Ewen started a senior corps (you "age out" of the regular corps fairly early. Despite what it looks like on these videos, these are KIDS!), and I wonder if "my" drum line buddies were involved.
The following is a video from that very night! I found it entirely by chance. This is the Brigadiers, of Syracuse, NY, 1997.
The next competition in Kingston will be August 11th, 7:30 pm, at Deitz stadium. I'll be there. The lineup so far doesn't look exciting - where are the Phantom Regiment? The Cadets of Bergen County? The Bluecoats? The Cavaliers? The Brigadiers? All the national winners?
Regardless, I'll be there.
.
[If you're looking at a feed and don't see imbedded videos, click on the post title.]
I was watching a Metcafe video linked by another blogger, and when it finished, this was offered: http://www.metacafe.com/watch/699860/awesome_drummers/. Thrilling! (I haven't been able to figure out how to imbed it, sorry. )
It reminded me that I haven't been to a Drum & Bugle Corps competition in ages. There's one at the stadium in Kingston every summer, and the past few years, well, since Jay got sick, I've missed it. I just wasn't paying attention.
I love drum and bugle corps, especially the drum line. I love to hear them, and to watch them. Its a passion of mine. And here's why:
That was the Blue Devils, of Concord, CA, one of the top corps, in rehearsal. The sound! The precision! The Rockettes have nothing on these kids.
The next is the Cavaliers, from Illinois, warming up before competition.
Doesn't that thrill you to your very toes? My heart beats faster watching them. When the competitions are in Kingston, you find this sort of thing happening in parks, parking lots, and on lawns all over The Stockade all afternoon of "the day".
An evening I will remember as one of the best of my life was at a D&B competition. It was just before Jay got ill. He had something to do that evening, so I went alone. I was in the lower seating in the stadium, and a man came with two very young children, which he seated next to me, in about the only two seats left. He strongly cautioned them that they were to stay there, not to move, "I'll be just up there", and seemed concerned about leaving them alone. So as he as leaving to go to his own seat, I offered to trade seats with him. He gratefully accepted, and ... I found myself sitting in the middle of the alumni of the (long defunct) Kingston D&B corps!
At first they seemed a bit disconcerted to find a tiny white lady in their midst, but when I started asking questions, they were happy to have a receptive pupil. I learned sooooo much about what looks hard but is actually easy, what looks easy but is very difficult and why, what gathers points. All the technical stuff to appreciate, "Now, watch this! No, not the snares, watch the left! Woooo! Did you see that!" The guys on either side of me lifted me up high when the crowd stood, so I could see. I had an absolutely wonderful time.
They talked about how much the corps had done for them. That if it hadn't been for the discipline and pride they got from the corps, they wouldn't be where they were today. Every one of them had some kind of college degree, several owned their own successful businesses, a few were programmers with The Company. That if it hadn't been for the corps, they'd probably still be on the streets kicking stones, and that with all the problems Kingston had with midtown youth, the city was missing a bet by not resurrecting the corps.
I pointed out that they, themselves, were in a position to make a difference. The mayor was interested in things that would improve the city. Maybe they could get the Chamber of Commerce interested. All they really needed was a director and funding. By the end of the evening, they were taking about sources of funding.
I'm almost ashamed to say that I don't know if Kingston now has a corps. But I do know that shortly after that evening, Highland started a corps, and Port Ewen started a senior corps (you "age out" of the regular corps fairly early. Despite what it looks like on these videos, these are KIDS!), and I wonder if "my" drum line buddies were involved.
The following is a video from that very night! I found it entirely by chance. This is the Brigadiers, of Syracuse, NY, 1997.
The next competition in Kingston will be August 11th, 7:30 pm, at Deitz stadium. I'll be there. The lineup so far doesn't look exciting - where are the Phantom Regiment? The Cadets of Bergen County? The Bluecoats? The Cavaliers? The Brigadiers? All the national winners?
Regardless, I'll be there.
.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
1344 Moon Over River
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Dirty Dave just sent this, taken by his cell phone. Moon over Hudson River. Roman also tried to capture it with his cell phone, which drew one of my "Mensan comments", "How can that work? Cell phones don't have a flash." Which got some laughter, but isn't what I meant. I meant "don't they need more light?"
Dirty Dave just sent this, taken by his cell phone. Moon over Hudson River. Roman also tried to capture it with his cell phone, which drew one of my "Mensan comments", "How can that work? Cell phones don't have a flash." Which got some laughter, but isn't what I meant. I meant "don't they need more light?"
1343 Complications
Sunday, July 1, 2007
The decision as to whether to go to the fireworks has been made for me. There's a gusty breeze high in the trees, and the maple trees are showing the undersides of their leaves. Sure sign of rain.
If I'm wrong, I can still see the higher chrysanthemums from my deck, so I think I'll stay home, warm, and dry.
There were actually about 12 people at NJ's last night. I forgot to count the Pilot and the Nurse. It's interesting that among so few people, there was so much going on underneath. We've all known each other entirely too long.
It was last year at this time, at NJ's, that the proverbial poop hit the fan, as regards Roman and me. I'm sure a lot of people were wondering what is now going on with us. It was obvious we are friendly, even affectionate, which I'm sure blows people's minds, given what had happened. I'm a little surprised he showed up last night. Pond scum and all.
He made a point of several times mentioning "the woman I had been dating", ensuring that everyone knew they had broken up. We left together, and if anyone had been watching from the window, they'd have seen a hug and a very small kiss. They'd have seen both cars go through the stone gateway one after the other. What they couldn't see is that at the end of the access road, I turned north, and he turned south. What they don't know is that's the way it is now. That's pretty much the way it has to be. Hello hugs and goodbye kisses, and nothing much in between.
Dirty Dave broke up with his several-year girlfriend more than a year ago, and he's not over her yet. He finally figured out that she didn't really like him at all, that she was using him. He said she has lived the grasshopper life, and has found herself in her late 50s with no savings, and all she wanted was someone who would pay for her fun.
The poor guy wants a woman.
I opened the can of worms when I asked him if he'd done any travelling lately (that was his retirement plans), and he said no, that he hates travelling alone. He had tried to get back together with a prior girlfriend, and it actually looked promising, but he said that the 15-year age difference, that hadn't mattered at all when he was still working and dating her, is now suddenly a problem, because he has all this free time, and she has none. She has a lousy two weeks of vacation, and the occasional day off, and they just can't travel like he wants to. It's frustrating.
(He doesn't know what my involvement is these days, but as he went on about it, I felt like he was talking directly to me. Yeah, I understand more than he knows.)
I reminded him that he'd always said that he prefers women his own age. Maybe he needs a woman who is willing and able to pay her own way. Maybe all he needs is a platonic travel companion (implying, of course, me). I swear I said that innocently. (I want to travel. I need a travel companion, too.)
Twenty-some years ago, DD and I'd had a very brief fling, pushed together by NJ and May, who had thought we were ideal for each other. The only other person in the room who knows I had slept with DD is Roman, and it bothers him a lot. I have absolutely no sexual interest in DD. None. I have no desire whatsoever to repeat the experience. When I saw the look on Roman's face, and the look on DD's face, I wanted to say that, make it clear, or withdraw my suggestion. Bleck. Foot in mouth again.
There was a woman there who is at least ten years older than I. Back in March, a new member came to NJ's Green Eggs and Ham, and I noticed that this woman seemed fascinated by him. The expression on her face when she looked at him, the way she engaged him in intense conversation, the way she leaned into him. Last night, it was obvious she was still fascinated by him. When he left, he hugged her tightly and asked her when he'd see her again. And later, she said something about how the night before, she'd forgotten that she had xx in the refrigerator, so he and she'd "had no dessert after dinner." She'd cooked him dinner the night before? Wow. Why wow? He's got to be 40 years younger than she.
Wow. I'd love to know what's going on there.
-------------------------------------
Post script - The next October, Roman decided to go to Israel to visit his Daughter, and invited me to go with him, as a "platonic travel companion". I turned him down (I wanted to go, but The Man wasn't too happy about the idea, and pointed out that he being a man himself, he knew durn well what Roman was thinking.) Wow. I wonder if Roman got the idea from the conversation with DD.
.
The decision as to whether to go to the fireworks has been made for me. There's a gusty breeze high in the trees, and the maple trees are showing the undersides of their leaves. Sure sign of rain.
If I'm wrong, I can still see the higher chrysanthemums from my deck, so I think I'll stay home, warm, and dry.
There were actually about 12 people at NJ's last night. I forgot to count the Pilot and the Nurse. It's interesting that among so few people, there was so much going on underneath. We've all known each other entirely too long.
It was last year at this time, at NJ's, that the proverbial poop hit the fan, as regards Roman and me. I'm sure a lot of people were wondering what is now going on with us. It was obvious we are friendly, even affectionate, which I'm sure blows people's minds, given what had happened. I'm a little surprised he showed up last night. Pond scum and all.
He made a point of several times mentioning "the woman I had been dating", ensuring that everyone knew they had broken up. We left together, and if anyone had been watching from the window, they'd have seen a hug and a very small kiss. They'd have seen both cars go through the stone gateway one after the other. What they couldn't see is that at the end of the access road, I turned north, and he turned south. What they don't know is that's the way it is now. That's pretty much the way it has to be. Hello hugs and goodbye kisses, and nothing much in between.
Dirty Dave broke up with his several-year girlfriend more than a year ago, and he's not over her yet. He finally figured out that she didn't really like him at all, that she was using him. He said she has lived the grasshopper life, and has found herself in her late 50s with no savings, and all she wanted was someone who would pay for her fun.
The poor guy wants a woman.
I opened the can of worms when I asked him if he'd done any travelling lately (that was his retirement plans), and he said no, that he hates travelling alone. He had tried to get back together with a prior girlfriend, and it actually looked promising, but he said that the 15-year age difference, that hadn't mattered at all when he was still working and dating her, is now suddenly a problem, because he has all this free time, and she has none. She has a lousy two weeks of vacation, and the occasional day off, and they just can't travel like he wants to. It's frustrating.
(He doesn't know what my involvement is these days, but as he went on about it, I felt like he was talking directly to me. Yeah, I understand more than he knows.)
I reminded him that he'd always said that he prefers women his own age. Maybe he needs a woman who is willing and able to pay her own way. Maybe all he needs is a platonic travel companion (implying, of course, me). I swear I said that innocently. (I want to travel. I need a travel companion, too.)
Twenty-some years ago, DD and I'd had a very brief fling, pushed together by NJ and May, who had thought we were ideal for each other. The only other person in the room who knows I had slept with DD is Roman, and it bothers him a lot. I have absolutely no sexual interest in DD. None. I have no desire whatsoever to repeat the experience. When I saw the look on Roman's face, and the look on DD's face, I wanted to say that, make it clear, or withdraw my suggestion. Bleck. Foot in mouth again.
There was a woman there who is at least ten years older than I. Back in March, a new member came to NJ's Green Eggs and Ham, and I noticed that this woman seemed fascinated by him. The expression on her face when she looked at him, the way she engaged him in intense conversation, the way she leaned into him. Last night, it was obvious she was still fascinated by him. When he left, he hugged her tightly and asked her when he'd see her again. And later, she said something about how the night before, she'd forgotten that she had xx in the refrigerator, so he and she'd "had no dessert after dinner." She'd cooked him dinner the night before? Wow. Why wow? He's got to be 40 years younger than she.
Wow. I'd love to know what's going on there.
-------------------------------------
Post script - The next October, Roman decided to go to Israel to visit his Daughter, and invited me to go with him, as a "platonic travel companion". I turned him down (I wanted to go, but The Man wasn't too happy about the idea, and pointed out that he being a man himself, he knew durn well what Roman was thinking.) Wow. I wonder if Roman got the idea from the conversation with DD.
.
1342 Crocs2
Sunday, July 1, 2007
[Edit - fixed the date, per Roberta's comment. Nice catch, R.]
Thursday, when I met Daughter at the mall, she was wearing crocs. She said they were wonderful, and yes, I should get some. She slipped her foot out and I slipped mine in, and...
"Yuk! They have bumples in the bottom! I can't walk on bumples!"
I didn't know they have bumples.
My feet aren't princess feet, beautiful as they are. I like walking barefoot, and I can even walk on gravel barefoot, but at least on gravel, the bumps hit different parts of your feet. Bumples in your shoes hit the same spots over and over, and I can't stand that. The bumples take over my mind, and it's all I can feel.
Ok. I'm over my crocs lust.
.
[Edit - fixed the date, per Roberta's comment. Nice catch, R.]
Thursday, when I met Daughter at the mall, she was wearing crocs. She said they were wonderful, and yes, I should get some. She slipped her foot out and I slipped mine in, and...
"Yuk! They have bumples in the bottom! I can't walk on bumples!"
I didn't know they have bumples.
My feet aren't princess feet, beautiful as they are. I like walking barefoot, and I can even walk on gravel barefoot, but at least on gravel, the bumps hit different parts of your feet. Bumples in your shoes hit the same spots over and over, and I can't stand that. The bumples take over my mind, and it's all I can feel.
Ok. I'm over my crocs lust.
.
1341 Drums
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Doing the CD list has me listening to a lot of music I haven't heard in ages. I was listening to Natacha Atlas ("Diaspora") this evening, and suddenly I could clearly hear and identify two of the rhythms I had always before confused.
I have a little ceramic Indian bayan in the den that I used to play for practice when I was waiting for long downloads on the desktop. Since I got the laptop, it's been neglected. I started playing it along with the Diaspora CD, and I could keep up! I was doing pretty well! I wasn't getting off beat, and when they switched rhythms, I did too! Something must have clicked in my brain.
I got so excited I went to the back bedroom and got one of the big doumbeks, which I hadn't touched in months.
It's a little harder to keep up on the doumbek (it rebounds more slowly or something so I have to hit it sharper or it slows my hand down too much), but by George, I think I've finally, after two years of frustration, I've finally got it!
---------------------------------------
An annoying post script - The doumbeks, with their man-made heads, are in zippered cases. The African djembe, which has a goatskin head with the hair on, was not in a case. The flippin' moths ate all the hair off my djembe. I'm pissed! My djembe is bald!!!
.
Doing the CD list has me listening to a lot of music I haven't heard in ages. I was listening to Natacha Atlas ("Diaspora") this evening, and suddenly I could clearly hear and identify two of the rhythms I had always before confused.
I have a little ceramic Indian bayan in the den that I used to play for practice when I was waiting for long downloads on the desktop. Since I got the laptop, it's been neglected. I started playing it along with the Diaspora CD, and I could keep up! I was doing pretty well! I wasn't getting off beat, and when they switched rhythms, I did too! Something must have clicked in my brain.
I got so excited I went to the back bedroom and got one of the big doumbeks, which I hadn't touched in months.
It's a little harder to keep up on the doumbek (it rebounds more slowly or something so I have to hit it sharper or it slows my hand down too much), but by George, I think I've finally, after two years of frustration, I've finally got it!
---------------------------------------
An annoying post script - The doumbeks, with their man-made heads, are in zippered cases. The African djembe, which has a goatskin head with the hair on, was not in a case. The flippin' moths ate all the hair off my djembe. I'm pissed! My djembe is bald!!!
.
1340 Moonlight
Sunday, July 1, 2007 (Late night, early morning, whatever....)
Moonlight at NJ's was nice. Naturally, I forgot a real camera, but I took two photos with the toy camera on my keyring. The first is the view from NJ's back porch. The small figure on the lawn on the left is FirstWoman, to give some idea of the scale. That hill is actually very steep. There's a bit of beach visible beyond FW.
This next one was taken from where FW is standing in the first photo. She wanted to smoke, so she had spread her blanket there. I joined her and we talked for a while, but I wanted to get back up to the group, so we moved her blanket up to near the porch, where Roman joined us a little later.
We didn't last long out there. Something was biting FW and Roman (as usual, I was being ignored by the bugs) and they couldn't take it any longer - especially Roman, who was wearing short sleeves and shorts (red short shorts - he took some ribbing for that), so we moved inside.
It was a small group tonight, maybe about 10 of us. People wondered why - I see no mystery. I figure a lot of people started their holiday at the end of work on Friday.
The moon finally came up about 9:30ish, I'm not sure, but it was full dark by then and the bugs weren't so active, so we all went outside again. Dirty Dave had brought a telescope, and we looked at the moon and at Jupiter. Jupiter's four moons were all lined up together. Kinda neat.
The moonlight shone over the water, and it was pretty, and then fireworks started somewhere across the river. Hyde Park is straight across, and the fireworks were south a bit, so we figure they had to be at the Culinary Institute. We got a good show.
Poor Roman had put a jacket on, but his legs were still getting all bit up, so we left everyone else still out on the porch and moved to the kitchen, where we were eventually joined by Dirty Dave. People started leaving, and the last hour was Roman, Dirty Dave, The Hippy, NJ, and me in the kitchen. Topics of conversation ranged from Roman's daughter's luggage having been lost on the way to Israel (she went through Heathrow yesterday, shortly after the terrorist threat there), to DD's single status, to Zig's mysterious friend in Boston, to online dating, to property easements.
They have convinced me that I have to get back the easement that I gave the guy who's building below me (for $1 and clearing the woods in my side yard), since it turns out he can't use it, but if he ever sells the land, the easement will go with it, and who knows what a new owner would do.
The Hippy and I talked about joining up at the Jazz Festival. We could, but he said he wasn't too enthusiastic about the groups they had scheduled, so he might not stay long. If he's not enthusiastic, I'm sure I won't be - that's something he knows something about. So I'm losing my enthusiasm, what little I had. And the fireworks we saw tonight might be enough for me. I don't know.
I got home a little after midnight, and on the way home I was thinking about the bug biting thing. It seems like every guy I have found attractive in "that way", has also been loved by bugs. Obie, Jay, Roman, The Man - they all attracted bugs as much as they attracted me. I don't think I've ever been attracted to a bug-repellent man. I guess the bugs and I both sense the same thing. The Man says it's testosterone. I can believe it.
That would be a cute line in an online dating profile: "Must attract bugs."
.
Moonlight at NJ's was nice. Naturally, I forgot a real camera, but I took two photos with the toy camera on my keyring. The first is the view from NJ's back porch. The small figure on the lawn on the left is FirstWoman, to give some idea of the scale. That hill is actually very steep. There's a bit of beach visible beyond FW.
This next one was taken from where FW is standing in the first photo. She wanted to smoke, so she had spread her blanket there. I joined her and we talked for a while, but I wanted to get back up to the group, so we moved her blanket up to near the porch, where Roman joined us a little later.
We didn't last long out there. Something was biting FW and Roman (as usual, I was being ignored by the bugs) and they couldn't take it any longer - especially Roman, who was wearing short sleeves and shorts (red short shorts - he took some ribbing for that), so we moved inside.
It was a small group tonight, maybe about 10 of us. People wondered why - I see no mystery. I figure a lot of people started their holiday at the end of work on Friday.
The moon finally came up about 9:30ish, I'm not sure, but it was full dark by then and the bugs weren't so active, so we all went outside again. Dirty Dave had brought a telescope, and we looked at the moon and at Jupiter. Jupiter's four moons were all lined up together. Kinda neat.
The moonlight shone over the water, and it was pretty, and then fireworks started somewhere across the river. Hyde Park is straight across, and the fireworks were south a bit, so we figure they had to be at the Culinary Institute. We got a good show.
Poor Roman had put a jacket on, but his legs were still getting all bit up, so we left everyone else still out on the porch and moved to the kitchen, where we were eventually joined by Dirty Dave. People started leaving, and the last hour was Roman, Dirty Dave, The Hippy, NJ, and me in the kitchen. Topics of conversation ranged from Roman's daughter's luggage having been lost on the way to Israel (she went through Heathrow yesterday, shortly after the terrorist threat there), to DD's single status, to Zig's mysterious friend in Boston, to online dating, to property easements.
They have convinced me that I have to get back the easement that I gave the guy who's building below me (for $1 and clearing the woods in my side yard), since it turns out he can't use it, but if he ever sells the land, the easement will go with it, and who knows what a new owner would do.
The Hippy and I talked about joining up at the Jazz Festival. We could, but he said he wasn't too enthusiastic about the groups they had scheduled, so he might not stay long. If he's not enthusiastic, I'm sure I won't be - that's something he knows something about. So I'm losing my enthusiasm, what little I had. And the fireworks we saw tonight might be enough for me. I don't know.
I got home a little after midnight, and on the way home I was thinking about the bug biting thing. It seems like every guy I have found attractive in "that way", has also been loved by bugs. Obie, Jay, Roman, The Man - they all attracted bugs as much as they attracted me. I don't think I've ever been attracted to a bug-repellent man. I guess the bugs and I both sense the same thing. The Man says it's testosterone. I can believe it.
That would be a cute line in an online dating profile: "Must attract bugs."
.
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