2633 The Queen's Question Answered.

Saturday, October 24, 2009 (wee hours of the morning)

"The essence of charity ... [is] not
deciding what others needed and giving it to them,
but giving them what they wanted."
-- Jane Smiley, Moo ---

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

A few posts back (#2629) I offered to answer any question asked. The Queen asks, "What's been your longest friendship (excluding family)?"

That question is harder than it seems.

My father was in the Air Force.  By the time I had graduated from high school, I had attended more than ten different schools.  We moved more often than that.  I learned early that making friends means losing friends.  I've been in this house since 1994, and this is the longest I've ever lived anywhere.  I made a list once, and by the time I was 50 years old, I had lived something like 40 different places.  So I'm not very good at making or maintaining friendships.

The second problem is in defining "friend".  There's a local woman I had considered a friend since about 1983.  We even went to England together in 1985 (I think it was '85), but last year she had a serious medical problem, and she withdrew from everyone.  She rejects overtures.  Several people have been hurt by her rejection.  I'm not.  I understand.  Is someone who doesn't want to see you or hear from you, who gets angry at attempts to be helpful, still a friend?

I'm still in snail mail/email touch with some ex-coworkers from the '80s and early '90s, now living in England, Colorado, North Carolina, Maryland, and Minnesota, but I haven't seen any of them except two visits with Danny, the Maryland one, since they transferred out, and the contact has lessened to one or two notes a year.  Are they friends?   I think Danny is a friend, but not a close friend. A hug friend, but not a call in the middle of the night friend.

I located one guy from my high school graduating class (Gene).  He was excited to hear from me, but really, we had nothing to talk about.  He's just a nice guy I know.  We definitely were friends once, but now?

One of my college friends, The Rabbi, and I refound each other in 2005.  We were really getting back into the old talking teasing pattern, and then I went to his 40th wedding anniversary party, and discovered that his wife had thought that 42 years before, he and I had been having some kind of steamy sordid affair in college (absolutely not true!), and she hated me, and still does.  Maybe we're friends, but if being friends with him is going to cause him problems, the friendly thing to do is not be friendly.

About three months ago, a woman I had known in elementary school contacted me through Classmates.com.  I remember her as one of the smart ones.  She seems to remember us as great friends, playing together and so on.  I don't remember playing with her.  She was one of the small town gentry, and I was government trash (a lot of kids weren't ALLOWED to play with me).  She wants me to visit next time I go to Benton, Pa.  I will look her up, but it won't be a special trip.  So she's probably the earliest, the longest, acquaintance, but is she a friend?  Probably not.

Not that I've never had friends.  There had always been one or two special friends, whom I still remember.  In Canada there was Nan Cavill, Margaret Rae, and Diane Bithel.  In middle school there was Judy Belcher.  In high school there was Helen, Deloris, Joe, Gene, and Ray.  In college (1962-65) there was Sis, The Rabbi, Pam, Joe, a few others.  Nobody kept in touch for very long.  The Rabbi and Joe were roommates and pals all through college, but afterward TR says he got a few Christmas cards from Joe, and then silence.

It seems like the biggest wedge was marriage.  Someone would get married, and you'd never heard from them again.


I consider a friend someone I can call at 3 am if I need help, and they won't mind, and if they need help at 3 am, I am there.  Right now, at this point in my life, there are only three people I can put in that class:
- Roman
- Piper
- The Man 
A guy I slept with, a guy who wants to sleep with me, and a guy I'm sleeping with.  There's something wrong with that.

So, a surprise answer to the question.  After four years of intense psychotherapy, ending when I was thirty-seven, I discovered me.  I found out who I am, and that I'm pretty ok, and I like me.  I didn't know me before.  I met me at thirty-seven.  I've been a friend to myself since then.  My best friend.  So the answer is Me, a twenty-eight year friendship.

I do talk to myself at 3 am, and I don't mind at all..
.

2632 Donna in AL's Question Answered

Saturday, October 24, 2009 (1:30 am)

Leave the stage while the audience is still clapping.

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

A post or two back I offered to answer any question asked. I'm taking the easiest one first. Donna in AL asks, "As a member of mensa (you that is, not me), what is your IQ? If you have posted it before, I did not see it."

No, it hasn't been posted before.

What a lot of people don't know about Mensans is that they don't sit around comparing scores. In fact, it's a taboo topic. I know a few hundred past and current Mensans, and except for my late husband and my daughter, I have no idea whatsoever what anyone else's score is.

One reason comparing scores isn't done is that scores can't be compared. I'll explain that in a minute. Also, many Mensans don't even know what their own IQ score is.

Mensa accepts several tests for entrance (see http://www.us.mensa.org/Content/AML/NavigationMenu/Join/SubmitTestScores/QualifyingTestScores/QualifyingScores.htm for a list of acceptable tests and the qualifying scores. Note that many are not even IQ tests.) You can also take a battery of tests administered by Mensa. I'm not sure what it is now, but when I took the Mensa-administered tests in 1978 it was the California Test of Mental Maturity and the Stanford Binet.

If you took those tests through Mensa, they used to give you your score, so I know what my numbers are, but somewhere along the line, psychologists were complaining because Mensa was giving the same tests the pros gave, for hundreds of dollars less --- so Mensa agreed to NOT divulge the actual score. Now they just let you know whether you made it past the 98th %ile, qualifying for membership. Most current members of Mensa have no idea what they scored, except that it was high enough to join. It's only us old folks, or people who took a different test, who know our actual scores.

Note that Mensa does not require a particular IQ score. They actually require that you score in the top 2%ile (that's "percentile") of whatever test you take. Average scores are in the 50%ile range. A score in the 2%ile range means it's higher than 98% of all scores for that test.

What complicates matters is that around the 48-52%ile range (half the scores were above and half below the 50%ile point), all IQ tests will show generally the same IQ numbers - generally 90 to 110 IQ - for everybody who falls in that range. In that range, the test scores are comparable across all the tests. (That's what "standardized" means.) But as you spread out above or below that high bulge of the bell curve, the standard deviations of the different tests cause the scores to vary widely. For example, a 145 on the California Test of Mental Maturity is actually a higher score than a 158 on the Stanford Binet. But both of those scores fall at approximately the same point on the bell curve. Beyond a certain point, you can't compare the IQ numbers. You can compare only the %iles. To say, "I scored 162 on the IQ test!" has no meaning unless you know what test, what year, whether time was factored in (getting 162 completing the test in a half hour is a higher score than 162 in an hour on the same test), and how the test was administered. However it does have meaning to say "I scored in the 99th %ile.

The numbers also don't take into consideration that some people simply freak out at the mere idea of taking a test, so the actual score may not be the true potential score.

The second problem, one that many Mensans are loath to admit, is that the standardized IQ tests measure only a small subset of "intelligence", mainly the ability to discern patterns and think logically. They don't measure creativity, wholistic thinking, synthesis, deeper analysis, an ability to establish priorities and to change beliefs based on new information, and so on, all the things that are really! impressive. I get very impatient with Mensans who seem to assume that because they scored 132 on the Binet, they have been automatically endowed with all the other attributes and abilities, too.

Having established the groundwork, the disclaimer, the "yeah, are these numbers really going to mean anything?", I will now answer Donna's question in full.

• Mensa requires a score in the top 2%ile. I am a Life member of Mensa.
• Intertel requires a score in the top 1%ile. I am member of Intertel.
• My IQ test scores put me in the 99.8%ile. That means that in a group of 1,000 people taking an IQ or aptitude test, I am likely to have one of the two highest scores.
• My actual scores on professionally administered IQ tests have been 145, 158, 168, and something over 170. Of course, without my telling you what tests when, those numbers have no meaning, except that I can tell you that the 145 is technically higher than the 158. Suffice to say that they are all pretty darn high on the bell curve.
• I got 800/798 on my college boards.
• I aced the LSAT.
• I scored the highest in Pennsylvania on the 1961 engineering aptitude test, the one that gets you all kinds of scholarship offers from engineering schools. My score wasn't beaten until just a few years ago, when some guy aced the one question I blew. He was all over the newspapers. I wasn't, because I was female. In 1961 I was considered an anomaly. (Note that MIT didn't accept females back then, let alone offer one a scholarship.)
  
• In the mid to late '60s, IBM used to give an IQ test to potential employees. I scored the highest they'd ever seen, of about 10,000 tests given. They told me that, but didn't tell me my score.

So yeah, I guess some people would call me a genius. I don't, haven't, and won't, except in a disparaging way, because although I'll admit I must be pretty good at discerning patterns and thinking logically, that may be ALL I'm any good at. Otherwise, you'd think I'd be more successful. There's a lot more to genius than those paltry skills. And whatever those other things may be, I obviously don't have them.

Just look at all the things I don't understand.
.

2631 Crisis avoided, for the moment....

Friday, October 23, 2009

When you tell a child he or she can be anything,
the child hears it as they must be everything.

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

There are things The Man has not told me because he doesn't want me to know.  There are things I know that I haven't told The Man I know (well, actually I suspect, because it's unconfirmed), because I know he doesn't want me to know.  We are not as comfortable with each other as we could be because of all the unsaid things, the flag-draped elephants in the room. 

The last time we had been together was the weekend of September 13, and then on the morning of the 14th, in a fit of pique as he was rushing to get to work, I blurted something to him that could have ended things right there and then. But the last thing he said to me as we parted was that he loved me, and yes, he loved me enough to work on fixing things.

As I was lying alone in bed thinking a week or so ago, I decided that those things had to come out, and once out, they will have to be addressed.  And depending on how they are or are not addressed, things will get better, or worse.  And lying there thinking, I decided that it would be ok with me whichever way it went.  I just couldn't keep going this way any more.

So I had decided we were going to have to talk seriously, soon.  Like the next time we were together.  All men hate relationship talk, even when it's easy stuff, and I was afraid he'd bail rather than face the issues. Way back in the beginning I promised him no drama.

In the intervening weeks, our emails were pleasant and affectionate (I won't bring up the issues in an email).  He'd had a bad bout of flu, and then was working to make up the time lost to the flu, and blah blah, anyway, it's been several weeks. 

I set out to meet him on Wednesday determined to have the talk sometime between then and this morning.

Sigh.  Damn, he's good!  I don't think he was trying to manipulate me, it's just the way he is.

I didn't want to bring anything up Wednesday night because I was so happy to see him, and besides he wanted to talk about something troubling him that had happened at work, and it just wasn't the right time.  I thought maybe Thursday during the day.  But we slept late, then he had a bunch of things he'd found on the internet that he wanted to share with me (because I am "one of only two people he knows who would appreciate it"), and he seemed so happy.  It's been months since I'd seen him smile so much.  I'd missed those dimples in his cheeks. 

So, ok.  We'd be driving into the city in late afternoon (going to Carnegie Hall in the evening for a taping of one of his favorite NPR shows, and on the long drive would be a good time to talk.  Ha!  It was actually warm, warm enough to put the top down.  Can't really talk.  Sirius radio, Monty Python skits.  More smiles and laughing.  Ok.  We'll talk over dinner.

Dinner in the bar of an Irish pub, with poker up on the overhead screen.  I'd always wanted to watch him play poker.  He was winning, enjoying himself.  I let him.  Besides, the waiters were cute.  I was distracted.

Then a walk around a bit on crowded streets.  I was so frustrated I bought a pack of cigarettes.  I don't usuallly smoke when I'm with him, but by then I needed a cigarette.

On to Carnegie Hall.  We waited in the bar to be seated, and there happened to be an opportunity in the conversation for me to drop a two-word bowling ball on his foot, damn I wish I wouldn't blurt like that, and he did pick up on it but didn't even blink, he should have been shocked, he should have wondered how much more I know, and then they immediately called for seating, so that was that.

He really enjoyed the show.  I'm glad we went.  He was thrilled just to be in the same room with Paula Poundstone.

Ok, maybe the drive back to central NJ?  Warm.  Top down until we finally got to the turnpike and could move faster.  Cool stuff on the radio to share.  He was on a high for the rest of the evening, and I didn't want to bring him down.  And he didn't bring up what I'd said earlier. 

Certainly no chance this morning.   Again, we slept late.  He had to be back in the office after lunch, and he has a way of "shifting mental gears", like he has different modes for office, sports, date, whatever, and it has always fascinated me to see him shifting gears.  There's a certain point where I can see he's already in the office.

Oh well.  In the 36 hours I had somewhere between fifteen and twenty orgasms to various degrees, so guess I can't complain.

I wonder if he was so happy partly because he suspects I know what he's hiding, and yet I'm still with him, and that's happifying, and I wonder if he's thinking that if I know, and I'm still here, then why do we need to discuss it?

BECAUSE I'M FEMALE! And part bulldog. That's why.
.

2630 Heading Out

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Happiness is not something you find.  It's something you make.

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

Last night's movie was "The Boys Are Back".  The official description is: "The film follows a witty, wisecracking, action-oriented sportswriter who, in the wake of his wife's tragic death, finds himself in a sudden, stultifying state of single parenthood. With turbulent emotions swirling just below the surface, Joe Warr throws himself into the only child-rearing philosophy he thinks has a shot at bringing joy back into their lives: just say yes. Raising two boys, a curious six year old and a rebellious teen, in a household devoid of feminine influence, and with an unabashed lack of rules, life becomes exuberant, instinctual, reckless and on the verge of constant disaster.

That description would not have drawn me to see it.  That's unfortunate.  It's actually about how the death of an integral element of a family ripples outward, and changes all the relationships between all the other parts.  It did that very well.  I liked it, and recommend it.

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

The Man and I are getting together this evening.  We'll be going to Carnegie Hall tomorrow evening for a taping of the PBS show "Wait, Wait... Don't Tell Me".

I find that ironic.

He got tomorrow off work, and tried to get Friday off too, but due to work schedules was able to get only Friday morning. That's ok, I guess. He tried.
.

2629 Invitation

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Definition: Punker - Rebel without a clue, with a high school art project hairdo.

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

Ask me questions in a comment on this post, any questions, on any topics, as many questions as you want, and I will answer to the best of my ability (limited only by my own safety considerations).  If you don't have a Blogger id you can just click on anonymous.
.

2628 Sex in the 60s, and the relief of death

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

There are no stupid questions, just stupid people.
-- South Park --

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

On Hoda & Kathie Lee this morning, a woman was talking about menopause, what happens and why. She mentioned that women in their 60s and 70s report that sex is better, that they're having the best sex in their lives.

My immediate thought was "Hmmm. Yes. But I thought it was him, The Man, that he was doing it so well. Hey, maybe it's me!"

My second thought was that again, this is a self-selected sample.  The only ones who would report are those who are having sex, and they would be the ones who always liked it anyway.  Women in their 60s and 70s who don't like sex have long ago figured out how to avoid it, and menopause is the perfect excuse. 

My third thought was that women get shafted again.  For those of us who like and want it, it's better, it's wonderful, our libido is ramped up, but where are the capable men?  How does one go about finding a compatible man who can keep up with us and not leave us hanging?

Younger men, and their staying power.  That's the solution.  I lucked out in finding The Man, but (those red flags again**) I don't think he'll be good for the next decade and a half, and what do I do after I lose patience with him? 

Sigh.

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

** In The Man's defense, the red flags don't involve sexual infidelity, believe it or not.  That's the one thing I am not at all worried about.  The flags have more to do with attention, interests, propinquity, intimacy, keeping secrets, differing values, a resistance to sharing lives, and on and on.  Things that at my age perhaps shouldn't matter so much, but I guess they still do.

On the other hand, if I were involved with a man who lived close, whom I saw a few times a week, who wanted me involved in his life and wanted to be involved in mine, who dragged me to family functions, who shared his problems with me, who wanted to advise and direct me, who MEDDLED!, I probably wouldn't be happy either.  I'd feel trapped and smothered.  I'd want some distance, some independence.

So.  Damn.

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

I observed to a relative recently, when her daughter's diabetic cat died while in her care, that sometimes when someone we love, or a pet, is old and ill and caring for them has become a burden, when they die we may mourn them, but we are also relieved.

I didn't realize how much that was a part of my crash after Jay died.

People have asked me, if he were still alive, would we still be together, and I've always answered yes.  That's true whether he were healthy, or left ravaged by the brain cancer.  At the time he died, he was hemiparalyzed, unable to stand, sit, move himself or feed himself, incontinent, blind, sleeping no more than an hour at a time, and with absolutely no short-term memory.  But I still loved him, and if we had been able to stop the brain cancer and control all the other potentially fatal conditions he was prone to, even if he was left in that condition for decades, I'd have stayed with him and cared for him.

When he died, I was relieved.  I realize and accept that now. 

I didn't realize it then, because I mourned the loss of him in my life and all of what could have and should have been.  That was on top.  Underneath was the relief, and I think the inability to accept that feeling contributed to the multi-year depression that followed.

I think he was relieved, too.  So it's ok.
.

2627 Movie Recommendation

Monday, October 19, 2009

It matters not what you call me,
but what I answer to.
-- African Proverb--

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

I watched a wonderful little movie on DVD this afternoon, a 1997 Iranian movie about a brother and sister, and shoes.  "Children of Heaven" is the title (but there must be something lost in translation, because I don't "get" the title).  It's in Farsi with English subtitles.

The brother accidentally loses the sister's shoes.  They know their family is too poor to buy her another pair.  Luckily, girls have school in the morning, and boys in the afternoon, so they decide to keep the loss a secret, and arrange to share his shoes.  And then things get complicated.  Very complicated.

There are various synopses and reviews online, but none of them even mention some of the most charming parts.  It won several international awards, and was nominated for an Academy Award for best international film in 1999.

Rent it, or buy it from Amazon (cheap!), or watch it for free online in two parts at
http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=2085360636693346701&hl=en&autoplay=1, Part 1
and
http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=1568263933309969077&hl=en&autoplay=1, Part 2.

The latter option, although free and safe, is not the best - it's not as sharp an image.  Note - at the end, when we see the father's laden bike, notice what's tucked in the back.  If you watch it online, you'll have to be ready for it and look carefully.  It's a small glimpse.
.

2626 On flu vaccine effectiveness

Monday, October 19, 2009

"There is no necessary connection between the desire to lead
and the ability to lead....
Leadership is more likely to be assumed by the aggressive than by the able
and those who scramble to the top are more often motivated
by their own inner torments
than by any demand for their guidance."
(?)Evans, in a letter to the Kingston Daily Freeman

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

The Atlantic Monthly has a very good article on the effectiveness of flu vaccines, "Does the Vaccine Matter", at http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/print/200911/brownlee-h1n1.  It goes into how hope and belief can stifle scientific verification.  One researcher makes the same argument on statistics that I made in this post, that the numbers can't be trusted because the participants are self-selected.

The article is long, but it's full of meat, makes a lot of good points, and gives you things to think about.  It's well worth taking the time to read.

By the way, although some researchers are skeptical about the effectiveness of the vaccine in reducing the spread of flu and fatalities in the general population, even the skeptics agree that it is effective in children and health care workers.  That news might disappoint some readers.

Read the article to find out why they say that.
.

2625 Two dinners and a movie

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Me: "Freedom" is the absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action. "License" is a freedom that is used with or allows irresponsibility, or disregard for rules of personal conduct. Too many people confuse the two.

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

Dinner Friday evening was at a highly-rated barbecue restaurant (Giffy's) in Clifton Park, near Albany.  I love barbecue.  I love a sweet and tangy sauce.  I love ribs, chicken, pulled pork.  So I got the sampler platter with all three.

I was disappointed.  Either there's something wrong with my mouth, or there was no flavor in either the meat or the sauce.  The sauce could have been water.

I do recommend their cornbread, though.  Funny that the website doesn't tout it.  It's light and fluffy, moist, sweet, and buttery.  If you try it, don't put butter on it.  It's best eaten like cake.

Half of the dinner came home with me, so I'll have another chance to taste.

Yesterday was the dog walk, dinner, and movie with a 40s-plus singles' outdoors interest group in Newburgh.  We were eleven women and four men at dinner.  Doesn't bother me, because I'm more interested in conversation than flirting (although if something were to develop it would be interesting), but it just strikes me as odd that more men wouldn't be interested in the usual odds in most of the Meetup interest groups.

We went to a Longhorn restaurant near Newburgh, where I highly recommend the service and the roasted vegetable salad.  Again, half the fillet and potato have come home with me.  I'm set for lunches for the next three days.

The movie was "Against the Current", at a tiny arts theater on the Newburgh waterfront.  It had been filmed on the Hudson River, mostly on the stretch between Newburgh and West Point, and the creator was there to answer questions after the viewing. The story was about a young man whose pregnant wife had been killed in an accident.  He had contemplated suicide and had been talked out of it by his best friend, who extracted a promise that he'd give it five years, then decide.  The five-year anniversary is coming up, and the young man decides he wants to swim the length of the Hudson River, from Troy to the Verrazano Bridge, to mark the anniversary, THEN commit suicide.  The movie is that swim, with the friend and a young woman accompanying in a small boat.  Mary Tyler Moore has a cameo as the girl's mother, whom they visit on the trip.  Her character is beautifully defined by the way she asks "And what do your people do?" as if all families are dynasties, with hereditary professions.

Of course this audience, in contrast with the various film festival audiences, recognized the locales featured in the film, and we knew it wasn't where it was "supposed" to be.  The sequence of river views was out of order, for example, and although the girl's mother was supposed to live in Rhinebeck, we were fully aware the drive to the house showed actually the Millbrook area.  Worse, Millbrook is nowhere near the river.  (MTM, in real life, lives near Millbrook.)

In the Q&A period, most people asked questions about where the story came from (his head), why the weather was so unrelentingly gloomy when it was supposed to be August (they filmed in eight days, and it just happened to be rainy and gloomy that whole week), and so on.

There were a few people in the audience who were determined to demonstrate how deep they were, who commented on how interesting it was that blah blah portended blah blah (that need to demonstrate understanding beyond the norm - shades of the dreaded Mensan audience!), and the creator just shrugged and said, "No meaning.  That just sorta happened", and that didn't stop them, they kept right on trying to find hidden meaning.  They amused me as much as wine snobs do.  As The Man says, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

Today, maybe some laundry.  Maybe moving things to the basement.  Maybe some sewing.  Maybe not.  It's 39 degrees outside, at 1:15 PM.  Disgusting.  I just want to crawl back into bed.
.

2624 And another one! Or two.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Ted Kennedy, of his friend Barry Goldwater: [He] had one motto. It was "Ready! Shoot! Aim!"

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

"Staycation".  Yeah, it's cute.  But it makes my jaw clench as much as "cafetorium" does.

"Vacation" comes from "vacate", which means "to cease to occupy".  "Vacation" is the noun.  "Vacate" + "(t)ion", the noun ending, becomes the act of leaving the place you usually occupy.

"Staycation" obviously substitutes "stay" for "vacate", but it does it WRONG!  It's "stay" + "CAtion"  which is the end of "vacate" and the noun-maker "(t)ion".   Or else it's "stayca" + "tion".  Either way it's wrong.

If they do it right, it would be "stay" + "tion", or "station", which is a place to stay or wait.  But that isn't cute.

In Daughter's elementary school, the cafeteria doubled as the auditorium.  The school drove me crazy by referring to the room as "the cafetorium".  These people responsible for the education of my daughter seemed to think that was a combination of the two words.

It's not.  "Cafe" refers to eating.  "Audit" refers to listening.  "(T)eria/(t)orium" means "room", singular and plural forms of the same ending.  So in "combining "cafeteria" and "auditorium" to come up with "cafetorium", all they really did was change the plural ending of  "cafeteria" to singular "cafetorium".  (This is not technically precise, but will do for the sake of argument.)  Cafetorium is still just a room for eating.  No listening involved.

I was not annoyed that they'd changed the ending.  It was convenient and got the idea across.  What annoyed me was that these educators seemed to think that in doing so they had combined the meaning of the two words.  It annoyed me that they didn't know what was wrong with it, and they SHOULD have.

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

Dinner group in the Albany area tonight.  Giffy's BarBQ.  Yum.

Incidentally, my weight is still 13 pounds down.  Remarkable with all the eating out I've been doing.  If I'm going to lose more I'll have to exercise more, I guess.

2623 Early winter

Friday, October 16, 2009

Follow the man who seeks the truth; avoid the man who thinks he's found it.

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

It's 37 F outside right now.  We've had freezing temperatures overnight the past few nights, and it's only mid-October.  There've been several inches of snow in the mountains to the west of us.  The few woolly-bear (Pyrrharctia isabella) caterpillars I've seen have very wide rust saddles, just a touch of black on either end, which folklore says means a very long hard winter.  I don't care what the scientists say - in my experience it's a very good predictor!

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

Dear Internet:  "Invite" is a verb.  The noun is "invitation".  Please stop sending me invites.  I refuse to acknowledge them.

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

I save the crosswords from the newspaper, and work through them in bed at night.  Yesterday's was from July 1, 2009.   On the other side of the page was the local activities section, which announced the debut of the "Kingston Sculpture Biennial" (a children's art activities program).  Biennial?  Debut?  Biennial is an adjective, not a noun, so there isn't a noun in the name, leaving one to wonder what it is exactly except that it's in Kingston and has something to do with sculpture (in general; if you interpret sculpture as the noun, then it's referring to a specific sculpture), and I don't think something is described as biennial anyway until at least the second occurrence.

In the same article the paper announced that "Neuhas [newspaper error, should be Neuhaus] iceboats will be launched at 4pm" on July 4th.  There are often iceboats on display at the Maritime Museum, where I had volunteered for a while, and occasionally you'll see them on the frozen Hudson River, so I'm familiar with them.  An iceboat is just a spidery wooden or fiberglass frame with runners on long "legs", and a sail.  It tends not to stay upright in water.

Isn't the water a bit too soft for launching iceboats in July?

Sigh.  I don't understand.

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

Later:  I searched online for the launch of the iceboats in July in Kingston.  They were boats made of ice!  Icy boats!  Not the same thing at all!

Ne'mind.

But it serves to illustrate and emphasize my complaint about the deterioration of communication.  Did no one proofreading the article notice the confusion it might generate?

2622 Pizza in the middle of nowhere

Thursday, October 15, 2009

The town I'm from is so small, Charles Kuralt has been there twice.

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

Last night I joined 17 other people from the Orange County Outdoors Singles Meetup group for calamari, pizza, and beer (I drank water) at a restaurant in Vails Gate (or as my GPS knows it, "Huh? Where?").  I found the place entirely by accident.

Getting there involved taking the Thruway to Newburgh.  The state had been working on the Thruway near that exit for months, and I didn't realize that they'd changed where the ramp exited.  The intersections in that area had always confused me anyway, and last night when the Thruway dumped me out onto the highway, I had absolutely no idea where I was.  I recognized nothing.  The man in the GPS had fits, because he thought I was in the middle of a field.  Not that it mattered much what he thought, because he didn't know where I was going.  I knew Vails Gate was south of Newburgh, but I went two wrong directions before I found south.

Someone had commented on the website that the restaurant was "on rte 32 after the second light after Five Corners", which name the GPS also didn't recognize.   I was just bopping along following the road signs that said "Vails Gate thataway -->", hoping I'd find some clue, and happened to look up at the GPS as I was going through a weird intersection, and noticed that the intersection looked like a perfect five-pointed star!  Ta-rah!

And people don't believe me when I say I almost never get seriously lost.

The group seemed like nice folks.  The man across the table from me was about my age and seemed interested, looked at me and caught my eye and smiled a lot, but he's an avid downhill skier.  I said I hate winter, and then the divorcee sitting next to him brightened and spent the next half hour rhapsodizing about skiing.  That's one of the things I dislike about singles' groups - there's a sense of competitiveness.  I'm not interested in competing.

This group has a dog hike on Saturday, followed by dinner at a steak house, followed by a movie at an art house with the producer there for discussion.  I had signed up for it, but it looks like the hike part may be canceled - there's SNOW predicted for Saturday, and nobody's ready for that yet.  Not even the avid skiers.

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

I did six loads of laundry at the laundromat today.  Now my upper back hurts.  I made sure the bags weren't so heavy this time, but I've about concluded that it's not the weight, it's standing at the folding table with my arms out in front of me that kills my back.

2621 My Montel

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

It isn’t how you start that matters, it’s how you finish.

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

Twenty years ago I had a mad wild crush on Montel Williams.

I don't agree with some of his enthusiasms, like that insufferable woman who sees ghosts "standing behind" people, but he's an otherwise intelligent, compassionate, sensitive, giving, inspirational man.  The gorgeous body doesn't hurt.

I read his book about his struggles getting a correct diagnosis when that gorgeous body did hurt.  I felt so sorry for him when shortly after his MS diagnosis his wife left him.  I don't know her side of the story, but my impression was that she just didn't want that life, didn't want to be bothered.  Disloyal.  I wanted to volunteer to take her place.

His show doesn't seem to be on any of the channels I get, so for the past several years I wondered how he was doing.

He was a guest host on "The Drs" this morning.  He looks great!  I'm so happy for him.

2620 Food Flags

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

"Anyone who inhabits himself cannot believe in objective thinking."
Hugh Prather, Notes to Myself

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

This is fun - from the Sydney International food festival, country flags made of the food that country is famous for.  See how many you can figure out from the food used before looking at the answers in the comments.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

Maybe ALL flags should be like this!  It would make things so much easier, and pleasant.  And no less full of country (kitchen) pride.

2619 It may as well be a herd of buffalo.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

"Next time I will...." "From now on I will...." -
What makes me think I am wiser today than I will be tomorrow?
Hugh Prather, Notes to Myself

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

Jasper is dismantling the house.

I've had cats almost all my life.  Most were adopted straight from their mothers, a few were found strays who had obviously been pets, but Jasper is my first tamed feral.  Most of my cats showed no interest in mice.  A few considered them toys, and gifts for Mommy once they stopped moving and sort of "fell apart".  Jasper knows mice are food, and he actively hunts.

Now is the time of year when mice, looking for a warmer home, somehow manage to get into the house.  

Jasper must have seen a mouse go behind one of the bookcases in the hall.  He systematically removed all the books from the bottom two shelves of all four while I was out yesterday.  That's 24 board feet of books spread all over the floor.

Today he's convinced a mouse is here in the den, where there are piles of paper, fabric, and computer parts all over the place, making good hiding places.  They are no longer piles.  Now it's all scattered mixed mounds.

I'm happy he's getting some exercise and enjoying himself.  But I wonder if I could rig some kind of little treadmill and laser lure contraption before he takes anything else apart.

2618 No resistance

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Paul Levine, in Night Vision, on "image":   "It may not get the job done,
but it makes it possible to get the job done."

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

I went to the antiques fair today.  I hadn't intended to look for anything, just look at stuff, but one of the first things I saw was a walnut Eastlake-Inspired/Renaissance Revival marble-topped side table, exactly what I've been searching for for the past seven years.  I see them at auctions, and in antique shops, but they always go for more than $800 (how much more depending on the condition of the marble), which is way more than I am willing to pay.

I almost died when I saw the price tag.  $175.  A that price I figured something had to be very wrong with it, but aside from needing joints tightened, cleaning, finish refreshing, and one tiny chip in the marble near the middle of the top, it's in good condition for close to one hundred years old. 

I'm putting money away for the trip to Morocco, and trying to pay off credit cards, and with new tax rules and new medical insurance costs, my income has taken a hit, so right now I really can't afford it.  But I well know that if I didn't buy it, I'd be kicking myself for the next seven years while I continue to search for its non-existent twin.

It's in the back seat of my car.

2617 Mount Peter walk

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Paul Levine, in Night Vision: "We are all born psychopaths, born without repressions.

Society teaches us the restraints of proper behavior

and helps us develop a conscience."

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

Today was the Mensa hike on a piece of the Appalachian Trail, on Mount Peter.  Originally ten or so people were interested, but then there was rain over the past few days, continuing into this morning, so a lot of people were afraid of mud and dripping trees and dropped out.  Weaklings!  The total amount of rain was less than an inch!

So four of us went, A., C., P., and me, and it was fine.

There will be a photo or two with me in it after P. sends them.

We started at the hawk watch platform, where two women from the Audubon Society were counting migrating raptors.  They count from early September through mid-November.  It's a cold cold job, standing up there in the wind.

Then we used P.'s hiking GPS and looked for a geocache that was supposed to be near the hawk tower.  I was giggling because it was described as "at the base of a cedar tree in view of the hawk tower, under a piece of bark", and I was the only person able to identify a cedar tree.  ("No, that's a hickory."  "No, that's a white pine, but at least you're getting warmer.")  The last time a Mensa group visited the hawk tower, the guys had searched in "front" of the tower.  Weird how a) the tower seems to have a view orientation, and b) everyone searched "in front".  Turns out the GPS pointed us "behind" the tower.  Hey guys, that's still "in view of".

I found the cache.  C. took out a souvenir pin from Scotland and put in a Euro coin worth about five cents, and I signed the logbook.  I'll log the find on the geocache website later this evening.

Then we walked the Appalachian Trail to a rocky overlook.  The guys said it was a little over two miles from where we picked up the trail, but I don't think so.  It felt to me like about a mile.

The trail continued across the rocks, but we turned back here.  You can see a white spot on the far rock, next to the red blotch.  The white spot is a trail marker (a blaze).  Follow the dotted line....

I was a little disappointed that we didn't go farther, but it was very cold and windy in the exposed areas (although it was warmish in the woods), and people got hungry.  So we went for pizza.

2616 Disclaimer

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Robert Heinlein: A "nine-days' wonder" is taken as a matter of course on the tenth day.

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

This post does not reflect the thoughts or opinions of either myself, my company, my late husband, The Man, my daughter, my friends, or my cats, or any of their fleas; don't quote me on that; don't quote me on anything; all rights reserved; you may distribute this content freely but you may not make a profit from it, at least not unless you PayPal my fair share to silkxxxxx at gmail dot com; terms are subject to change without notice; illustrations are slightly enlarged to show detail, or shrunk to hide detail; any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is unintentional and purely coincidental; do not remove this disclaimer under penalty of law; hand wash only, tumble dry on low heat; do not bend, fold, mutilate, or spindle; your mileage may vary; no substitutions allowed; for a limited time only; this post is void where prohibited, taxed, or otherwise restricted; caveat emptor; this post is provided "as is" without any warranties whatsoever; reader assumes full responsibility; an equal opportunity post; no shoes, no shirt, no service; quantities are limited while supplies last; if any defects are discovered, do not attempt to read them yourself, but return to an authorized service center; read at your own risk; parental discretion advised, text may contain explicit materials some readers may find objectionable; keep away from sunlight; keep away from OJ; keep away from pets and small children; limit one-per-family please; no money down; no purchase necessary; you need not be present to win; some assembly required; batteries not included; instructions are included; action figures sold separately; no preservatives added; slippery when wet; safety goggles may be required during use; sealed for your protection, do not read if safety seal is broken; call before you dig; not liable for damages arising from use or misuse; for external use only; if rash, irritation, redness, or swelling develops, discontinue reading; read only with proper ventilation; avoid extreme temperatures and store in a cool, dry place; wash your hands after reading; keep away from open flames; avoid contact with eyes and skin and avoid inhaling fumes; do not puncture, incinerate, or store above 120 degrees Fahrenheit; do not place near a flammable or magnetic source; smoking this post could be hazardous to your health; the best safeguard, second only to abstinence, is the use of a proper protection; no salt, MSG, artificial color or flavoring added; if ingested, do not induce vomiting, if symptoms persist, consult a physician; articles are ribbed for your pleasure; possible penalties for early withdrawal; offer valid only at participating sites; allow four to six weeks for delivery; must be 18 to read; disclaimer does not cover misuse, accident, lightning, flood, tornado, tsunami, volcanic eruption, earthquake, hurricanes, and other Acts of God, neglect, damage from improper reading, incorrect line voltage, improper or unauthorized reading, broken antenna or marred cabinet, missing or altered serial numbers, electromagnetic radiation from nuclear blasts, sonic boom vibrations, customer adjustments that are not covered in this list, and incidents owing to an airplane crash, ship sinking or taking on water, motor vehicle crashing, dropping the item, falling rocks, leaky roof, broken glass, mud slides, forest fire, or projectile (which can include, but not be limited to, arrows, bullets, shot, BB's, shrapnel, lasers, napalm, torpedoes, or emissions of X-rays, Alpha, Beta and Gamma rays, knives, stones, etc.); other restrictions may apply. This product is meant for educational purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Some assembly required. List each check separately by bank number. Batteries not included. Contents may settle during shipment. Use only as directed. No other warranty expressed or implied. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Postage will be paid by addressee. Subject to approval. This is not an offer to sell securities. Apply only to affected area. May be too intense for some viewers. Do not stamp. Use other side for additional listings. Take only as prescribed. For recreational use only. Do not disturb. All models over 18 years of age. If condition persists, consult your physician. No user-serviceable parts inside. Freshest if eaten before date on carton. Subject to change without notice. Times approximate. Simulated picture. No shirt, no shoes, no service. No postage necessary if mailed in the United States. Breaking seal constitutes acceptance of agreement. For off-road use only. As seen on TV. One size fits all. Many suitcases look alike. Contains a substantial amount of non-tobacco ingredients. Colors may, in time, fade. We have sent the forms which seem to be right for you. Slippery when wet. For office use only. Not affiliated with the American Red Cross. Drop in any mailbox. Edited for television. Keep cool; process promptly. Post office will not deliver without postage. List was current at time of printing. Return to sender, no forwarding order on file, unable to forward. Not responsible for direct, indirect, incidental or consequential damages resulting from any defect, error or failure to perform. At participating locations only. Not the Beatles. Penalty for private use. See label for sequence. Substantial penalty for early withdrawal. Do not write below this line. Falling rock. Lost ticket pays maximum rate. Your canceled check is your receipt. Add toner. Place stamp here. Avoid contact with skin. Sanitized for your protection. Be sure each item is properly endorsed. Sign here without admitting guilt. Slightly higher west of the Mississippi. Employees and their families are not eligible. Beware of dog. Contestants have been briefed on some questions before the show. Limited time offer, call now to insure prompt delivery. You must be present to win. No passes accepted for this engagement. No purchase necessary. Processed at location stamped in code at top of carton. Shading within a garment may occur. Use only in well-ventilated area. Keep away from fire or flame. Replace with same type. Created in the presence of peanuts. Approved for veterans. Booths for two or more. Check here if tax deductible. Some equipment shown is optional. Price does not include taxes. No Canadian coins. Not recommended for children. Prerecorded for this timezone. Maximum weight capacity 800 pounds. Reproduction strictly prohibited. No animals were injured in the production of this post. No solicitors. No alcohol, dogs, or horses. No anchovies unless otherwise specified. Restaurant package, not for resale. List at least two alternate dates. First pull up, then pull down. Call toll free before digging. Driver does not carry cash. Some of the trademarks mentioned in this product appear for identification purposes only. Record additional transactions on back of previous stub. Decision of judges is final. This disclaimer may contain repetition repetition or speling erors. I stole this mother of all disclaimers off of another web site. I edited it. I like it. If you don't, please don't let me know. If you read this far you must be a lawyer trying to find a loophole in this disclaimer, or you just cheated and checked the end to see what I added here. I should have put this in the middle somewhere.

2615 Cleaning out the closet

Friday, October 9, 2009

Robert Heinlein: "Being right too soon is socially unacceptable."

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

I was supposed to go to a games/drinks/bowling social evening tonight, but decided against it at the last minute.  The clothing laundry pile had grown to 64 cubic feet (well, that's what it looked like, anyway), so I decided to take three loads of "dark" to the laundromat.  I actually prefer the laundromat over my washer and dryer because I can do multiple loads concurrently.  Plus my washer is old, needs to be babysat to ensure it doesn't overflow, and the well water is super hard and can often be silty.

So anyhow, I returned with clothes to be put away, and realized there was no place to put them.  My closet is in transition.  I'm midway in weight between too heavy and ok, and the weather is midway between summer and winter, so there's an excess of wear-now clothes.

I decided to spend the evening sorting.  There are things in the bedroom closet that I know I will never wear again, and other things I won't wear again until next spring and which should be shifted to a spare bedroom closet.  But, heh heh, the spare closets are already full of things I'll never wear again.

Trying on clothes now.  Five piles - keep out for now, put away for spring, toss, donate, sell.  I'm finding things I love and had forgotten I had.

Same with shoes.  All that's out right now is summer sandals and so on, one pair of walking shoes, and one pair of ankle boots.  My winter shoes are --- somewhere.  I'm hoping I'll find them in the next few days.

2614 Frittering

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Hugh Prather, Notes to Myself: "If the desire to write

is not accompanied by actual writing,

then the desire is not to write."

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

The above quote applies to everything.  If I truly want to see the world, I should be planning trips.  If I want to make pretty things, I should be setting up a work area.  If I want to lose weight, I should be walking more.  If I want to have company, I should be cleaning up the clutter.  If I want a man to care for me and whom I can care for, for the next twenty years or so, it doesn't make a lot of sense to fiddle around now.  I should be looking for that guy.  I guess I have to decide what I really want.  Apparently it's not travel, production, neat body, guests, or intimacy beyond great sex.

Last night I had dinner in an Italian restaurant in Albany.  It was "restaurant week", whatever that means, so we had a three-course dinner for $20.09.  It was disappointing.  My entree was shrimp scampi.  The shrimp were overcooked and tough, and the sauce was flavorless. Most of the Meetup dinners seem to average eight or nine women and one or two men.  This time, at least, there were five men and two women, odds I like better.  I have always preferred male conversation.  It seems to have a point.

Nothing much else is going on.  I have a very long "to do" list and I seem to be making no headway on it at all, and I have no reason and no excuse.  Time just seems to flow away on inconsequential but insistent items.

By the way, the best corn fritters are made with Bisquick and a can of creamed corn.  I forget the ratio, but it should be such that it makes a thick sticky pasty batter.  Then you drop by large round spoonfuls into hot oil and deep fry until they're light brown, ball-shaped, and puffy.  Serve with maple-flavored syrup.

2613 Big Giant and Little Giantess

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

The early bird deserves the worm.

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

More great photos from Boston.com.  The full set of 35 photos tells a story, using huge French marionettes in a multi-day play in the streets of Berlin, part of the celebration of the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall.  Go, look, marvel.

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

I'm going to dinner in Albany tonight. The wind is high in the trees, leaves blowing horizontally past the windows. Sixty-three degrees. If this were not a very popular restaurant (the group count was filled a week ago, and it's a bit late to bump someone on the waitlist), I'd cancel. Stay home and stay warm and safe.

I hate cold.

2612 Catching Up

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

L. Long:  "I shot an arrow into the air. It's still going - everywhere!"

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

The above quote seems to apply to this old post.  I'm getting an increasing number of search hits a day landing on that post, people looking for information on the strange message.

Today's visitors were from Bronx, New York; Denver, Colorado; Gig Harbor, Washington; Buffalo, New York; Davidson, North Carolina; Buxton, Derbyshire, UK; and Los Angeles, California.  That virus is really getting around!


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


Saturday I went to Greenwich Village with The Gypsy for Venus Uprising's "Metamorphosis".  Many of The Gypsy's colleagues and friends were either in the show or in the audience.  Me, I just went for the city visit and the show, and was more than satisfied with both.  We arrived early enough for a sushi dinner and a little street wandering, and the dancing was mostly wonderful.

Photos from the show are here.  (Gypsy - these photos confirm that Autumn's dress is the one from the DVD, and it does have dangly sleeves.)

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

Sunday I attacked the mound of paper on the desk.  Monday I went to the movies in Fishkill, and saw "Julie and Julia".  You don't have to be a cook to enjoy it (although it did leave me with a desire to make Boeuf Bourguignon, even though I dislike wine in sauces).

There's been a lot of discussion about how they managed to make Meryl Streep look so tall by surrounding her with shorter people, standing her on stools, and so on.  Mostly that worked, but I did notice a few times when her arms were much too short for the level of her waist, and one scene in a restaurant when we get a side view, and it's very obvious she's sitting on a cushion at least eight inches thick - either that, or Meryl's rear end sticks out a LOT farther than I thought!

Yeah, inability to suspend disbelief again.

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

I've been trying to resolve a medical insurance problem.  The lab that handled one of my blood tests billed me a certain amount for the procedure.  My insurance company disallowed $70 of the charges as an included part of another procedure, paid the contractual amount to the lab, and the Explanation of Benefits (EOB) instructed me to pay only $1.79.  Which I did.  I enclosed a letter with the check to the lab explaining that I had been advised by the small print on both the EOB and the lab invoice that if there was a discrepancy I should pay only the amount indicated by the EOB, which I did.

Obviously no one from the lab read the letter, which pisses me off.  If they had, I would assume they would check the EOB, and if they had a problem they'd go to the insurance company to resolve it.  After all, the contract is between those two, and it's not something I can resolve, because I don't know what their agreement is.

The lab phone number gets me to an automated system, where I can review my account, pay a bill, change my contact/insurance info, and that's all.  There's no way to get a person.  I wrote another letter, which got no response except more overdue notices.  Then it went to a collection company, who have gotten progressively nastier.  I called them, and they gave me a number I could call to get a real person at the lab office.  The lab wanted me to fax the invoice and EOB (they don't have copies?), and no, a scanned attachment to an email won't do, they "have to have the original hardcopy".  When I pointed out that an attachment to an email can be printed, and what comes out of a fax machine is not "the original" anyway, the woman didn't get it**.  It must be faxed.  Period.

Three weeks, many hours on hold, several trips to the print shop in town, and over $15 in postage, gasoline, and fax costs (to convince them I owe only $1.79, which was paid), it is still not resolved, and they are now threatening my credit rating.

I wonder how many people just give up and pay the $70.  I'm not sick or elderly, but  I'm already at my wit's end.  Maybe that's why they ignore letters and ensure that you can't get to them by phone.  They just want to ignore and let the person give up and pay.

Me?  I want the fax costs and postage refunded!

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

**That reminds me of a lawsuit I reviewed once, where the plaintiff didn't have a copy of the contract  because "I faxed it to the defendant.  I don't have it anymore.  They have it now!"  Boing?  Do these women think the paper is disassembled and teleported through the fax machine?

2611 Before you forgive, know what you are forgiving!

 Monday, October 5, 2009

L. Long: "Anyone who considers protocol unimportant

has never dealt with a cat."

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

I rarely comment on anything that's going on beyond my sphere, because it can cause arguments in the comments, and I don't want to get into that.  But I don't have many commenters anyway, so I'll chance it.

I was watching the news (oops, "news") this morning, and the first item was David Letterman's recent admission, followed by Jon and Kate Gosselin's latest spat, then Michelle Obama's exercise routine, then I forget what was next, but it was definitely not what I tune in to the news for.  Is nothing else happening in the world?  Do I really have to go to the BBC to get US and world news?

The talk shows this morning were also full of Letterman and the Gosselins, but that's ok.  That's where one should expect to hear that kind of "news".

Most people commenting on the Letterman thing despise the blackmailer, but seem to see nothing wrong with what Letterman had done.  Like, "Well, he was single then" (as if infidelity was the issue), and "Coworkers date all the time", and "He's rich and famous and fun - who wouldn't want to date him", and "What's the big deal?"  I think any woman who doesn't understand what's wrong must have entered her working life after woman's lib, after recognition of such things as sexual harassment, and they've never experienced what can occur.  Kathie Lee and Hoda seem to have understood the issues, and now they're getting slammed in comments on their website.

It reminds me of the Polanski thing, people who want to excuse a man who raped a child and then jumped bail simply because they like his movies.  Please! 

I've copied a comment I left on another blog:

I'm a little upset at the "what's the big deal" attitude [re Letterman]. Yeah, he's rich and powerful and probably fun, and a woman might flirt and invite attention. But even if that's what was going on, it's still not ok.

Most companies have rules about relationships between people in the workplace in the "line of command", and for good reason. When someone has control of your job, your appraisals, your paycheck, acquiescence to advances is not always voluntary. This was a huge problem in the '50s and '60s, before such rules were in place. Back then, if a superior made unwelcome advances, a woman's only choice was to give in or quit the job.

In the Very Large Computer Manufacturer I used to work for, if a manager wanted to date someone who reported to him or her at any level, the underling had to be transferred to another area first. Otherwise, both would be fired, and it DID happen. Even husbands and wives working as peers had to be separated by at least two levels of management.

Any time one person has control over another's livelihood and employment, there's an element of coercion. If not to start, then at the end, and the coercion can go either way. It might start out consensual, but what if you want to end it and he doesn't? Does servicing the boss become part of your job description?

So far, no woman has come forward to say she felt coerced. But the power threat is still there - "if you want to continue in the job, keep your mouth shut".

Yeah, I think this is a big deal.

 I think that about covers it.

2610 The ant and the grasshopper.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

"The rich get rich because they keep doing the things that make them rich.

The poor get poorer, or stay poor, because they keep doing the things

that make them poor."

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

The above quote was found in a comment on Scott Adams' blog.  The commenter didn't remember where he got it, and it doesn't turn up anywhere else in a Google search.

It's absolutely true in my experience.  As others have pointed out, there seems to be a rich-mentality and a poor-mentality.  People with a poor-mentality who get windfalls spend or lose it within a few years.  They make short-term decisions, and pretty soon it's all gone, frittered away.  People with a rich-mentality make long-term decisions.  They develope a habit of using what they have to grow more. 

It's not a matter of where we start out.  Wealth inherited is often gone within two generations.  It has more to do with a frugal mindset, living within one's means, planning for the future, and/or not having a sense of entitlement.  It's tied up in our definition of what makes us happy, and whether we need immediate gratification, or whether we are willing to accept a lower level of happiness over a longer term.

It's the fable of the ant and the grasshopper.

If you give a man with a poor-mentality enough money to buy thirty steaks, he'll buy thirty steaks and eat like a king for a month, and then have nothing but a memory of short-term comfort and happiness.  If you give a man with a rich-mentality enough money for thirty steaks, he'll buy chicken, ground beef, four steaks (one a week), a few shares in a mutual fund, and put the rest in an education fund or toward purchasing a rental property.  Building long-term comfort and happiness.

I've confessed to liking to look in people's windows as I drive past houses at night.  I am often amazed at the number of huge flat screen TVs dominating the living rooms of modest cottages.  I don't understand that.  Who needs something that big and expensive, that isn't going to do anything but depreciate?  I have friends who spend every penny they get with no apparent thought of the future.  Two weeks ago I had a small spat with a dear friend over his frittering away a windfall.  You can't have champagne tastes on a beer budget, or pretty soon you won't be able to afford beer (and don't expect me to feel sorry for you when it happens).

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

My father was career Air Force, an officer.  He got flight pay beyond his regular salary, but my parents never had any savings to speak of.  The money came in, and the money went out.  After retirement, my mother marveled at other military friends who bought nice retirement houses in nice places.  She didn't understand how they could afford it.

The other folks moved every few years, just as we did, but when they moved, they sold the old house and bought a new one, always at a profit.  My parents always rented.

Renting is easy and convenient, but rent money is lost money.

2609 YouTube thinks I'm weird

Friday, October 1, 2009

Scott Adams, in "Dilbert": There's no reason to waste a creative thinker

on an implementation task.

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

I watch clips on YouTube a lot.  I use it like a TIVO, catching TV shows I missed.  I watch cute beastie videos, dance clips, and how-to videos.  Yesterday I watched a subtitled Mongolian movie, "The Story of the Weeping Camel", in nine parts.

You know how when you sign in, YouTube offers a selection of videos "Recommended for You"?

Today's recommendation for me, things that my past viewing history would indicate I would like, is six belly dance videos, and two clips from movies about girls' boarding schools, both of which are scenes of caning.

Huh?

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

Last night I joined the southern Mensa subgroup for dinner at a Thai/Vietnamese restaurant.  There were thirteen at table, some of whom agreed to a photo:

I don't know whose hand that is on my waist.  I hope it's the lady in the blue jacket.  That's my hand on her son's shoulder.  [Later - I peered at the enlarged photo.  It's probably the clasped hands of the guy in the black shirt, just showing through between my waist and arm.  I feel better.]

Tonight I'm going to a Phoenician restaurant in Colonie.  Phoenician?  I hear the beef shawarma "is divine", and the decor is colorful.

2608 Ketsana, from Boston.com

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Me:  How "good one is in bed" has more to do with the combination
than with any skill.

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

Typhoon Ketsana has caused devastating flash floods in the Philippines and Vietnam.  I thought I knew what "flash flood" meant, but when I look at the photos at Boston.com, I realize that I didn't really understand how fast it must have been.  There are people climbing electric wires, clinging in neck-high water to the sides of buildings.  It looks like they had no warning at all.  As to how strong, see the photo above.  Those cars were lifted and thrown before they had enough time to fill and sink.

2607 Hips

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Letter in Mensa Bulletin: If you take the "id" out of "intimidate",
you get "intimate".

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

Some dance videos. Please do watch them.  They are all amazing.

Hula. This literally made me cry:

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFFSe2VLZZ4]
The woman FLOATS!

Tahitian:

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8WhN6nlwAts]

Free-form, 7-year-old.  She's very good once she gets going, has apparently no bones (but in my opinion a bit too sexy for one so young):

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0yPE1wUDVK8]

2606 Flu shots etc.

 Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Me: Virginity is important only to men who fear comparison.

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

I saw "O'  Horten", a Norwegian movie with subtitles, at Proctor's in Schenectady this evening.  It was about a train engineer's retirement.  The trains were his whole life, and the day he is to drive his last route, he misses the train.  From then on, he discovers retirement is what the internet reviewers describe as "a precise, deadpan drama of slapstick existentialism".  I enjoyed it.

For most of the movie I wondered if they had "smell-o-vision".  Horten smoked a pipe, and every time he lit up I could swear I smelled the pipe tobacco.  Later I noticed that the woman next to me was holding a large container of hazelnut Starbucks brew.

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

Will someone please explain to me why Roman Polanski is suddenly the victim?  I understand the arguments for and against his extradition.  I understand that the woman doesn't want to get involved.  But this isn't a civil case, where she is allowed to drop it.  It's crimes against the state, and the specific victim can't drop it.  And although she's adult now, at the time she was thirteen years old!  And it's not like she was a Lolita, who welcomed his advances.  Even drugged she said no multiple times, and begged to go home, and he raped her multiple times in one day.

So how the blazes is he now the victim?

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

I listened to NPR on the way to Schenectady this evening.  Alan Chartock was interviewing some woman in the health field about the H1N1 virus and immunizations, and an interesting but unpublished Canadian study.  The study found that people who got last year's  seasonal flu shot were more likely to come down with H1N1 than people who didn't get last year's shot.

Weird.

None of the investigators can explain it.  They went on for some time about how everyone is so confused by the statistics.  The woman said that people are making decisions based on the study, a study which a) none of them have read, since it's unpublished, and b) even those who have read it can't understand it.

I don't understand why they don't understand.  It seems pretty simple to me.

Last year's shot was voluntary.  So the people who got it (let's call them Group 1) were those who felt they were most likely to be exposed to seasonal flu by nature of their jobs or contacts, or those who go to their doctors a lot, or those who were at risk because of other chronic illnesses.   People who didn't get the shot (Group 2, which includes me) were those who didn't feel they were likely to catch it, or rarely go to the doctor, or who are very healthy.

So it's reasonable to assume that Group 1 people would be more likely to pick up H1N1 by nature of their jobs or contacts, and more likely to be diagnosed because they see their doctors a lot, or because they get more seriously ill because of pre-existing conditions.   Group 2 people might catch it just as often, but remain undiagnosed as H1N1 because they didn't bother going to the doctor, and were never tested.

I know several people who were very ill over the past few weeks (The Man, a few others), and not one of them were tested for H1N1.  They just suffered and then got better.  They'd be solidly in Group 2, and would show up in the report as not having got last year's shot, and not having caught H1N1.

It's exactly the same problem as with self-selected surveys, where only the people who have something outrageous to say bother to answer, giving skewed results.

The majority of people counted as having H1N1 are those who were and are concerned about the flu enough to get the seasonal shot, and who go to the doctor when they get sick.  The rest simply "didn't answer".  We really don't know about them.  There may be not greater succeptability among those who got last year's seasonal flu shot.  Maybe it just looks that way. 

Making decisions based on this study is akin to making decisions based on a Playboy write-in survey.
.

2605 Plastic expectations

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Trevanian, Shibumi: “[Consider] the error of the artisan who boasts of

twenty years experience in his craft while in fact he has

only one year of experience - twenty times.”

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

Observation - I have to be very careful when I walk in crowds with an umbrella.  The ends of my spokes are at eye level on most other people.  I wonder, if someone turns suddenly and my spoke hits his eye, would I lose the lawsuit?

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

My daughter will be 34 next month, and I have as yet no grandchildren, and I'm starting to think that's ok.  I'm not sure I'd want a child to have to live up to the next generation's expectations.

Some of us are born with big noses, or small breasts, short legs, or flat or well-rounded behinds, teeth that are naturally less than sparkling white.  The "wrong" eye color or shape, or too high or too low a weight set-point.  Hair of the "wrong" texture or in the "wrong" places on our bodies.  As we grow older, our hair grays, or thins, or disappears altogether, our skin loosens, wrinkles, gets spotty, and that's natural and normal, but suddenly since it's no longer necessary, it's "wrong".

Somehow we've bought into someone else's definitions of "wrong".

With plastic surgery, botox, silicon injections, liposuction, teeth whitening and capping, laser treatments, contact lenses, hormone replacement and augmentation, growth hormones for children who aren't going to be "tall enough", waxing, dying, reshaping, hair removal and implantation, the whole panoply of products and services that Madison Avenue has convinced us we need, it will soon get to the point where a natural person will be accused of "not taking care of" herself or himself.  "With all she could do, why does she walk around looking like that?"  I can foresee people being offended by imperfection.  I can foresee people being shamed into "correction".

It's already normal for girls in their mid to late teens to get breast implants.  It's already normal for young women to expect their men to remove all their fur.  It's already normal for young men to be turned off by female pubic hair - somehow it is has become "unhygienic".  Everybody has to have perfect teeth.  Everybody will soon be expected to have thick long eyelashes.

Where did this attitude come from?  I know who's selling it, and I know why - because they have it to offer and want our money for it.  But why have we bought into it?  What happened to skepticism?   Remember when the fake existed, but the real was vastly preferred over fake, even if it was less perfect?  Remember when we sneered at fake breasts?  And now young women brag about getting them, and it seems like everyone wants them.

I'm afraid that by the time my grandchild grows up, all people would be all plastic, and all look alike (or like one of four prototypes).  There will be great pressure to conform.   Independent spirits who refuse to conform will be ostracized, and since the pressure will be mainly on children, teens, and young adults, resistance would only be at the expense of mental and social health.

But, I suspect the appearance of health will be much more important than actual health.

The latest is drugs to enhance mental abilities and awareness.  Drugs to help one stay awake and alert  longer without subsequent crashes.  Drugs that allow revolving shift work without the drag.  Drugs that improve memory.  Drugs that enhance mental speed and agility.  Right now most are prescription only, and are being used off-label.  But new drugs are being developed every day specifically for those purposes, and pretty soon they'll be available over (or under) the counter.  Advertising will make them seem needed.  You are not doing your best if you don't have them.  You'll have no choice when you're competing for grades, jobs, and opportunities against people who are using them.

I'm afraid my daughter's generation will be the last where natural appearance and abilities are valued.  Mine will be the last where natural aging is accepted.