Friday, March 7, 2008
I was exposed to one of those women today. The kind I think of as the Ugly Americans.
I took Susy to the service station this afternoon to get her oil changed and all her fluids and pressures checked. I was the only person in the waiting room, sipping my tea and reading my book, when a woman in perhaps her mid to late 40s, her mother, and two teenaged sons slammed the door open and whirled in. Seriously, it was like a hurricane had arrived. The boys were quiet, but the woman and her mother were LOUD!!! It was like they wanted the entire neighborhood to hear everything they said, and they commented on and argued about everything.
The younger of the two women was loud in appearance, too. That brilliant dark red hair that screams fake, a diamond stud in the side of her nose. She wasn't necessarily fat, but she was large, seemed to fill the small room, moved in large gestures, and emphasized her bulk with a down parka. She didn't shut up for the 20 minutes we shared the room. She was hurting my ears.
I wanted to turn to her and ask, "Why are you so loud?"
These are the kind of American women I kept running into in Europe. The ones who made me want to be Canadian.
.
Friday, March 07, 2008
1719 Gravel
Friday, March 7, 2008
Gravel. The snowbanks left lining the roads are beginning to melt, and they are turning black. They're half gravel.
When there's ice, the county spreads a salt-gravel mixture on the roads, then the plows come by and push it all to the sides. Later traffic scatters the rest to the sides. Along about the middle of May, the county sends around a sweeper to sweep the roads clean of gravel. Maybe in the village, where there are curbs to confine the gravel, this is effective, but out here, by the time the sweeper comes, there's nothing left on the road. It's all in our lawns, for about three or four feet in.
Here it's not such a big problem for me personally because where my yard meets the road is either driveway or steep rocky bank, so the gravel just builds up at the bottom of the bank. The only problem is that when it builds up in front of the mailbox I have to shovel it away, or the mailbox ends up too low to meet requirements.
Where I used to live before moving in with Jay, my lawn was flat, and the buildup of salty gravel, several inches thick, killed my grass close to the road, and when I mowed the lawn, thrown gravel peppered my legs. A leaf blower won't move it. I think the only thing that might work is a shop vacuum.
Oddly, I never hear anyone else complain about it.
.
Gravel. The snowbanks left lining the roads are beginning to melt, and they are turning black. They're half gravel.
When there's ice, the county spreads a salt-gravel mixture on the roads, then the plows come by and push it all to the sides. Later traffic scatters the rest to the sides. Along about the middle of May, the county sends around a sweeper to sweep the roads clean of gravel. Maybe in the village, where there are curbs to confine the gravel, this is effective, but out here, by the time the sweeper comes, there's nothing left on the road. It's all in our lawns, for about three or four feet in.
Here it's not such a big problem for me personally because where my yard meets the road is either driveway or steep rocky bank, so the gravel just builds up at the bottom of the bank. The only problem is that when it builds up in front of the mailbox I have to shovel it away, or the mailbox ends up too low to meet requirements.
Where I used to live before moving in with Jay, my lawn was flat, and the buildup of salty gravel, several inches thick, killed my grass close to the road, and when I mowed the lawn, thrown gravel peppered my legs. A leaf blower won't move it. I think the only thing that might work is a shop vacuum.
Oddly, I never hear anyone else complain about it.
.
1718 Maybe Katie?
Somebody is visiting from the eastern time zone via their Google toolbar (or something googly). Who? Confess, or I'll have to get all researchy on you!
.
.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
1717 Domestic
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Earlier this evening while wandering around YouTube looking for Tracy Chapman songs, I found this one, "Behind the Wall". It's on my album, but I almost always skip it because it bothers me.
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2g2M2RvCwfc&NR=1]
I grew up listening to screams behind the wall, and often hearing my own as if they came from far away.
Later, when I was 20 and first living on my own, and thought I was finally away from it, there was a single woman in her late thirties living upstairs over my apartment. I guess she had a boyfriend who visited, I never actually saw him, but somebody beat the crap out of her once or twice a week. I'd hear him shouting, and her screaming and crying and begging, and things crashing.
I would huddle with my cat, curled in a tight ball, shaking. I wouldn't sleep that night. I knew from personal experience that calling the police would do no good. That was 1965-66, when men had a virtual right to beat women they "owned".
I never met her. I passed her in the hall only a few times. She was covered with bruises in a variety of colors, and she would never meet my eyes. I lived there only eighteen months, but I still wonder what eventually happened to her.
.
Earlier this evening while wandering around YouTube looking for Tracy Chapman songs, I found this one, "Behind the Wall". It's on my album, but I almost always skip it because it bothers me.
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2g2M2RvCwfc&NR=1]
I grew up listening to screams behind the wall, and often hearing my own as if they came from far away.
Later, when I was 20 and first living on my own, and thought I was finally away from it, there was a single woman in her late thirties living upstairs over my apartment. I guess she had a boyfriend who visited, I never actually saw him, but somebody beat the crap out of her once or twice a week. I'd hear him shouting, and her screaming and crying and begging, and things crashing.
I would huddle with my cat, curled in a tight ball, shaking. I wouldn't sleep that night. I knew from personal experience that calling the police would do no good. That was 1965-66, when men had a virtual right to beat women they "owned".
I never met her. I passed her in the hall only a few times. She was covered with bruises in a variety of colors, and she would never meet my eyes. I lived there only eighteen months, but I still wonder what eventually happened to her.
.
1716 In Love with the Vision
Thursday, March 6, 2008
As you get older, you get wiser in some areas, and stupider in others. Or maybe not more stupid, just better at fooling yourself.
I have long believed that when men fall in love, it's not so much the woman herself that they fall in love with as the way they feel when they're with her, most likely strong and capable. Of course that's a trap, because at some point some condition is going to arise where he feels inadequate. Maybe that's why marriages often don't survive breast cancer.
I think women often fall in love not so much with the man, but with the vision of what they imagine life would be like with him. And that's a trap, because eventually real life intrudes on the vision.
I guess it's hard to tell, when you fall in love, whether it's the other person you love, or the trap. You probably don't know until it's over, because you convince yourself that it's the person.
Jay had abandonment issues. Some things had happened in his childhood that made him afraid that no one would care for him. He had bad dreams of his mother walking off and turning a corner and disappearing, or driving off in the car and leaving him stranded in the middle of nowhere. He was unhappy in his previous marriage because his wife pretty much lived her own life, she didn't much "do" for him. She had pretty much emotionally abandoned him. So I know that much of his love for me came from his knowing that I would care for him and not abandon him. I mothered him, and that's exactly what he needed.
Did I love him, or the vision? Well, any rosy vision was pretty much destroyed by the brain cancer diagnosis, but I still loved him just as much, so yeah, I think it was just him.
And Roman, the Roman of all the 2005 and 2006 fuss and furor? It was the vision. I was tired of being alone, and here was someone who liked a lot of the same things I did, wanted to travel, challenged my mind, and would be a good companion for the remainder of my years. Of course I liked him a lot, too, but it really was mainly the vision I was tied up in. It wasn't until I gave up on having that vision that I realized that although I do like him a lot, still, as a person, we really aren't suited as a couple.
Now I'm in love with another. (I tease him that women see him as a "fast car", after the Tracy Chapman song (see below), thinking that he'll take them out of a life they don't like and make it all better, and when he doesn't, they get mad.) I'm pretty sure it's him, not the vision that has me hooked, because, frankly, I have no vision of a future with him. I just can't see it. He's a workaholic, and nowhere near retirement, has no desire for world travel (unless the Vikings happen to play in France), vastly prefers city living, and on and on. I just don't see it. What we want from life is so different. So I'm pretty sure it's HIM that keeps me coming back for more, not the vision of a future together.
I don't know why he loves me. Of course he says it's the brains, the thoughtfulness, my itty-bittiness, and my independence, and so on, but I know I also make him feel very strong and masculine, and I'm smart enough to fully appreciate his brainpower. I don't know if it's me he loves, or the way I make him feel.
Why does it matter? Because if it's me, I can say or do or be any way consistent with me, and he'll still love me. If it's only the way I make him feel that he loves, that's REAL easy to lose. A wrong word could kill it.
-----------------------------------------
And now, for your listening pleasure, Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car".
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Orv_F2HV4gk&feature=related]
And just 'cause I love her, here's another favorite:
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjRo_CHSdt0&feature=related]
.
Free advice: Never take out a loan to buy something depreciable.
--------------------------
As you get older, you get wiser in some areas, and stupider in others. Or maybe not more stupid, just better at fooling yourself.
I have long believed that when men fall in love, it's not so much the woman herself that they fall in love with as the way they feel when they're with her, most likely strong and capable. Of course that's a trap, because at some point some condition is going to arise where he feels inadequate. Maybe that's why marriages often don't survive breast cancer.
I think women often fall in love not so much with the man, but with the vision of what they imagine life would be like with him. And that's a trap, because eventually real life intrudes on the vision.
I guess it's hard to tell, when you fall in love, whether it's the other person you love, or the trap. You probably don't know until it's over, because you convince yourself that it's the person.
Jay had abandonment issues. Some things had happened in his childhood that made him afraid that no one would care for him. He had bad dreams of his mother walking off and turning a corner and disappearing, or driving off in the car and leaving him stranded in the middle of nowhere. He was unhappy in his previous marriage because his wife pretty much lived her own life, she didn't much "do" for him. She had pretty much emotionally abandoned him. So I know that much of his love for me came from his knowing that I would care for him and not abandon him. I mothered him, and that's exactly what he needed.
Did I love him, or the vision? Well, any rosy vision was pretty much destroyed by the brain cancer diagnosis, but I still loved him just as much, so yeah, I think it was just him.
And Roman, the Roman of all the 2005 and 2006 fuss and furor? It was the vision. I was tired of being alone, and here was someone who liked a lot of the same things I did, wanted to travel, challenged my mind, and would be a good companion for the remainder of my years. Of course I liked him a lot, too, but it really was mainly the vision I was tied up in. It wasn't until I gave up on having that vision that I realized that although I do like him a lot, still, as a person, we really aren't suited as a couple.
Now I'm in love with another. (I tease him that women see him as a "fast car", after the Tracy Chapman song (see below), thinking that he'll take them out of a life they don't like and make it all better, and when he doesn't, they get mad.) I'm pretty sure it's him, not the vision that has me hooked, because, frankly, I have no vision of a future with him. I just can't see it. He's a workaholic, and nowhere near retirement, has no desire for world travel (unless the Vikings happen to play in France), vastly prefers city living, and on and on. I just don't see it. What we want from life is so different. So I'm pretty sure it's HIM that keeps me coming back for more, not the vision of a future together.
I don't know why he loves me. Of course he says it's the brains, the thoughtfulness, my itty-bittiness, and my independence, and so on, but I know I also make him feel very strong and masculine, and I'm smart enough to fully appreciate his brainpower. I don't know if it's me he loves, or the way I make him feel.
Why does it matter? Because if it's me, I can say or do or be any way consistent with me, and he'll still love me. If it's only the way I make him feel that he loves, that's REAL easy to lose. A wrong word could kill it.
-----------------------------------------
And now, for your listening pleasure, Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car".
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Orv_F2HV4gk&feature=related]
And just 'cause I love her, here's another favorite:
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjRo_CHSdt0&feature=related]
.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
1715 The Silk Pyjamas Do It
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
I have admitted unusual taste in men. For one, I find Morgan Freeman sexy. I was gratified to hear a woman on TV today, when asked what would make her happy, answer, "Morgan Freeman in silk pyjamas feeding me chili cheese fries." The lady has taste. Well, maybe not the chili cheese part.
.
I have admitted unusual taste in men. For one, I find Morgan Freeman sexy. I was gratified to hear a woman on TV today, when asked what would make her happy, answer, "Morgan Freeman in silk pyjamas feeding me chili cheese fries." The lady has taste. Well, maybe not the chili cheese part.
.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
1714 Bathing Suits
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Becs has an amusing post about wrestling a bathing suit into submission. I can sympathise. I had a dress once that grabbed me around the chest and wouldn't let go.
I have completely given up on regular bathing suits. I don't know why, but they just don't fit me, even when I can get separate tops and bottoms - that just means I have two parts that don't feel right. There's always either some part that is too tight and wants to creep someplace it doesn't belong and creates bulges, or too loose and I feel floppy.
I have discovered something that works better for me - a leotard with a mesh middle. Sugar Petals sells them (see http://www.sugarpetals.com/leotards.asp). The sleeveless tanks work fine. They have full bottom coverage, and enough power to hold everything in, even in the middle mesh, and the mesh makes it look like a two-piece, so they're sexy, too. I have one in black and one in tan. I can't wear the tan in public, though. From more than a few feet away I look naked. Not that there's anything wrong with that....
(I wear them without a bra, the fronts are lined and thick enough, but Sugar Petals also sells bra forms that you can tuck inside.)
.
Becs has an amusing post about wrestling a bathing suit into submission. I can sympathise. I had a dress once that grabbed me around the chest and wouldn't let go.
I have completely given up on regular bathing suits. I don't know why, but they just don't fit me, even when I can get separate tops and bottoms - that just means I have two parts that don't feel right. There's always either some part that is too tight and wants to creep someplace it doesn't belong and creates bulges, or too loose and I feel floppy.
I have discovered something that works better for me - a leotard with a mesh middle. Sugar Petals sells them (see http://www.sugarpetals.com/leotards.asp). The sleeveless tanks work fine. They have full bottom coverage, and enough power to hold everything in, even in the middle mesh, and the mesh makes it look like a two-piece, so they're sexy, too. I have one in black and one in tan. I can't wear the tan in public, though. From more than a few feet away I look naked. Not that there's anything wrong with that....
(I wear them without a bra, the fronts are lined and thick enough, but Sugar Petals also sells bra forms that you can tuck inside.)
.
Monday, March 03, 2008
1713 Sewing
Monday, March 3, 2008
I spent the day trying to find the bedroom rocking chair. It's buried under a 4' stack of sewing. My neck and back killing me now, from peering over the top of my glasses to rip seams, and from hunching over the sewing machine.
Way back in the mists of time, when I first graduated from college and started teaching, my very first purchase was a used sewing machine. I made all of my clothes (except underwear), curtains, bed coverings, slipcovers, pillow covers, etc., and I knitted or crocheted all my sweaters. (BTW - I hated knitting sweaters in sections and sewing them together. I used to rewrite patterns so I could do them all in one piece on circular needles. No seams.)
That used sewing machine served me well for almost 30 years.
Now, I buy everything, but almost all my clothing still needs altering - hemming, taking in here, letting out there. If anything has wrist cuffs, I have to take the cuffs off, shorten the sleeves, and then put the cuffs back on.
My own mother didn't know how to thread a needle. She was tiny, and took all her purchases to a tailor for altering. They say some characteristics skip a generation - Daughter is like my mother. When Daughter went off to college, and I wouldn't be available to do her tailoring for her, I bought her a sewing machine and taught her how to use it. With all her engineering and math skills, she couldn't seem to understand the concept of equal top and bottom tension. She and the machine just didn't get along. She also refuses to learn how to knit, crochet, or embroider.
She's tiny. She's maybe two inches taller than I, but a good 50 lbs lighter, with my deep hips and short legs. I KNOW she needs pants and long skirts hemmed, if nothing else. I don't how she gets them done, and I know better than to ask.
Well, 14 hours sewing today, and the rocking chair is still a theory.
-------------------------------
Today is the first anniversary of friend and I meeting, and trading contact information. I sent him an e-card.
When you're dating someone, what does one consider the anniversary? Is it the first meeting (with instant attraction)? First unchaperoned date? First kiss? First overnight? And for us, there's the evening that Daughter interviewed him for two hours, and then approved him for dating her mother.
I think probably first overnight, because that involved a serious decision and commitment. (I'm old fashioned. One man at a time.) Not that it really matters. I'd be willing to celebrate each and every one of the milestones.
.
I spent the day trying to find the bedroom rocking chair. It's buried under a 4' stack of sewing. My neck and back killing me now, from peering over the top of my glasses to rip seams, and from hunching over the sewing machine.
Way back in the mists of time, when I first graduated from college and started teaching, my very first purchase was a used sewing machine. I made all of my clothes (except underwear), curtains, bed coverings, slipcovers, pillow covers, etc., and I knitted or crocheted all my sweaters. (BTW - I hated knitting sweaters in sections and sewing them together. I used to rewrite patterns so I could do them all in one piece on circular needles. No seams.)
That used sewing machine served me well for almost 30 years.
Now, I buy everything, but almost all my clothing still needs altering - hemming, taking in here, letting out there. If anything has wrist cuffs, I have to take the cuffs off, shorten the sleeves, and then put the cuffs back on.
My own mother didn't know how to thread a needle. She was tiny, and took all her purchases to a tailor for altering. They say some characteristics skip a generation - Daughter is like my mother. When Daughter went off to college, and I wouldn't be available to do her tailoring for her, I bought her a sewing machine and taught her how to use it. With all her engineering and math skills, she couldn't seem to understand the concept of equal top and bottom tension. She and the machine just didn't get along. She also refuses to learn how to knit, crochet, or embroider.
She's tiny. She's maybe two inches taller than I, but a good 50 lbs lighter, with my deep hips and short legs. I KNOW she needs pants and long skirts hemmed, if nothing else. I don't how she gets them done, and I know better than to ask.
Well, 14 hours sewing today, and the rocking chair is still a theory.
-------------------------------
Today is the first anniversary of friend and I meeting, and trading contact information. I sent him an e-card.
When you're dating someone, what does one consider the anniversary? Is it the first meeting (with instant attraction)? First unchaperoned date? First kiss? First overnight? And for us, there's the evening that Daughter interviewed him for two hours, and then approved him for dating her mother.
I think probably first overnight, because that involved a serious decision and commitment. (I'm old fashioned. One man at a time.) Not that it really matters. I'd be willing to celebrate each and every one of the milestones.
.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
1712 Aggression in Turkeys, and Others
Sunday, March 2, 2008
I have dinosaurs in my front yard. The wild turkey flock (I keep wanting to call it a herd) is getting big. I counted thirty yesterday, and some of those birds are huge - footprints seven inches long! I have several wild cherry trees, and every time it snows, the turkeys come and scratch away the snow under the trees, right down to bare ground. They look like a herd of velociraptors, and if they've found a lode of dried cherries, they're about as docile.
I briefly searched for an uncopyrighted turkey photo that had something for size reference, that I could stick in here. No luck. Just look at the chair you're sitting in. When they are bent over pecking at the ground, their back is higher than the chair seat.
Now put thirty of those monsters pecking cherries between you and your mailbox.
---------------------------------
A good point was made on a talk show this morning - that when a primary campaign gets negative, that gives fodder to the other party for the later campaign.
---------------------------------
Blogger spellcheck is back! Welcome. I missed you.
---------------------------------
I have a younger male friend who has had bad experiences with women. They tend to go a bit nuts on him, do crazy things when he tries to break up with them. One after another. Not just getting mad, but damaging property or even him. Police intervention on some. I think I know him well enough to know that he doesn't lead them on excessively or mistreat them, to where even sane women would want revenge - they just overreact and get vicious.
Well, maybe he does contribute. He tends to shut down, become impenetrable when he doesn't want to talk about something. That can drive a woman mad. But still, we don't all pick up bricks when we're angry.
So now he's woman-shy.
I told him that not all women are like that. Maybe he just selects for that type. Maybe one of the things that attracts him is passion, assertiveness to the point of aggression. Maybe he finds off-kilter intriguing. He's a bit of a nerd, so a woman would have to be a bit aggressive to get his attention. A sane less aggressive woman could flirt with him all day and he wouldn't notice.
So that got me thinking about my own selections.
Under "What I'm looking for" in my online dating profile (moribund for the past year, by the way), I said "bigger, smarter, and faster" than I am. (Which, by the way, I seem to have found, and not through the profile.) Anyway, in my dating history, I have always fallen for men whom I found very masculine. Someone who is strong and will take the lead, who can reason circles around me, but who is smart enough to appreciate my own smarts. I like men who are strong and definite and protective. I like to feel ultra feminine around my man. I need to smell the testosterone.
But in all the men I've chosen, there's always been one thing that ends up distressing me, and yes, I realize now that I initially chose that man precisely because of that. I reject men who don't have that quality, that characteristic. Pretty much the same way the young man above chooses women with a characteristic that ends up distressing him.
Wow. This is a stunning realization! Maybe I'm on my way to fixing it.
The problem? I tend to end up with men who are not sexually aggressive. Oh, they want it, and like it, and are very good at it, and hope all the time, and respond well, and all that - after all, I choose very sexy men who reek of testosterone blah blah blah. But the men I choose almost never initiate. I have to reach out and invite. And I hate that. I know that if I initiate, he will respond, so I feel like it's up to me to decide whether he may be too tired, or not in the mood, or needs his sleep for tomorrow, or ... whatever. And I can't ask, because - the men I choose - no matter what, if he thinks I want to, he'll accommodate me. I don't like having to make that decision all the time. I have to think about what's best for him.
I feel a little guilty now, because I let Jay sleep a lot in 2000, thinking he needed his sleep, what with all the chemotherapy and so on, not knowing that the surgery in January 2001 would end even the possibility. I suspect he may have wanted more. But he never would have made the first move. That decision was always mine, and I wonder now if I made the right one.
What I want is to be taken. To be "owned". Once we're intimate, I've always said "any time, anywhere, any way", and that torn clothing is just fine as long as they're willing to replace it. In fact, I'd rather like torn clothing. Sexual aggression, being passionately taken, is what I want, and I rarely get it from the men I choose.
Of course it's been obvious all along why this happens. I just never realized that I was actively rejecting sexually aggressive men, choosing more ... passive? no ... sensitive? no ... something-or-other men.
What happens is that early in the dating dance, I lose interest in a man as soon as he touches me without permission anywhere except my hands. Even just an arm around my shoulders will turn me off. He can't put an arm around me until I have snuggled into his shoulder to signal acceptance. Any man who touches me in any intimate way (and with me that's pretty much anywhere but the hands) before the first date will never get a first date. I never knew, until now, why I'd lose interest. Some guy would grab a quick hug, and I'd think "well, he's a nice guy, but I don't think we're compatible", without thinking about why we "weren't compatible". I guess because it's not reasonable for me to be turned off by a hug, I couldn't recognize that as the problem.
The men who passed the test were those men who were sensitive to and respected those signals. Gentlemen.
And then later, after we're intimate, I'm dissatisfied when he still waits for and respects the signals.
Hmmmmm. Where did that come from.
This probably goes back to my twenties, when I was emotionally fragile, and was taken advantage of by unscrupulous men. Many. It's like they can smell weakness. Wolves. Men who have no respect for any women in any way. Then in my mid-thirties, after several years of psychotherapy, I found me, and I got strong. I insist on respect now. And I guess one indicator of respect, in my mind, is that you don't touch me without permission.
So I select for men who demonstrate the proper respect. That turns out to be men who wait for me to initiate.
How do I fix that? I don't want to trade in the man I have now, but would it involve changing a basic part of his personality? I've already made it pretty clear verbally that he doesn't need specific permission, anywhere, any time, and I know he's capable of it. He surprised me once. I loved it! And I didn't even make him replace anything. How can I make that happen more often? Maybe I can suggest we take turns, and hey, it's your turn!
.
I have dinosaurs in my front yard. The wild turkey flock (I keep wanting to call it a herd) is getting big. I counted thirty yesterday, and some of those birds are huge - footprints seven inches long! I have several wild cherry trees, and every time it snows, the turkeys come and scratch away the snow under the trees, right down to bare ground. They look like a herd of velociraptors, and if they've found a lode of dried cherries, they're about as docile.
I briefly searched for an uncopyrighted turkey photo that had something for size reference, that I could stick in here. No luck. Just look at the chair you're sitting in. When they are bent over pecking at the ground, their back is higher than the chair seat.
Now put thirty of those monsters pecking cherries between you and your mailbox.
---------------------------------
A good point was made on a talk show this morning - that when a primary campaign gets negative, that gives fodder to the other party for the later campaign.
---------------------------------
Blogger spellcheck is back! Welcome. I missed you.
---------------------------------
I have a younger male friend who has had bad experiences with women. They tend to go a bit nuts on him, do crazy things when he tries to break up with them. One after another. Not just getting mad, but damaging property or even him. Police intervention on some. I think I know him well enough to know that he doesn't lead them on excessively or mistreat them, to where even sane women would want revenge - they just overreact and get vicious.
Well, maybe he does contribute. He tends to shut down, become impenetrable when he doesn't want to talk about something. That can drive a woman mad. But still, we don't all pick up bricks when we're angry.
So now he's woman-shy.
I told him that not all women are like that. Maybe he just selects for that type. Maybe one of the things that attracts him is passion, assertiveness to the point of aggression. Maybe he finds off-kilter intriguing. He's a bit of a nerd, so a woman would have to be a bit aggressive to get his attention. A sane less aggressive woman could flirt with him all day and he wouldn't notice.
So that got me thinking about my own selections.
Under "What I'm looking for" in my online dating profile (moribund for the past year, by the way), I said "bigger, smarter, and faster" than I am. (Which, by the way, I seem to have found, and not through the profile.) Anyway, in my dating history, I have always fallen for men whom I found very masculine. Someone who is strong and will take the lead, who can reason circles around me, but who is smart enough to appreciate my own smarts. I like men who are strong and definite and protective. I like to feel ultra feminine around my man. I need to smell the testosterone.
But in all the men I've chosen, there's always been one thing that ends up distressing me, and yes, I realize now that I initially chose that man precisely because of that. I reject men who don't have that quality, that characteristic. Pretty much the same way the young man above chooses women with a characteristic that ends up distressing him.
Wow. This is a stunning realization! Maybe I'm on my way to fixing it.
The problem? I tend to end up with men who are not sexually aggressive. Oh, they want it, and like it, and are very good at it, and hope all the time, and respond well, and all that - after all, I choose very sexy men who reek of testosterone blah blah blah. But the men I choose almost never initiate. I have to reach out and invite. And I hate that. I know that if I initiate, he will respond, so I feel like it's up to me to decide whether he may be too tired, or not in the mood, or needs his sleep for tomorrow, or ... whatever. And I can't ask, because - the men I choose - no matter what, if he thinks I want to, he'll accommodate me. I don't like having to make that decision all the time. I have to think about what's best for him.
I feel a little guilty now, because I let Jay sleep a lot in 2000, thinking he needed his sleep, what with all the chemotherapy and so on, not knowing that the surgery in January 2001 would end even the possibility. I suspect he may have wanted more. But he never would have made the first move. That decision was always mine, and I wonder now if I made the right one.
What I want is to be taken. To be "owned". Once we're intimate, I've always said "any time, anywhere, any way", and that torn clothing is just fine as long as they're willing to replace it. In fact, I'd rather like torn clothing. Sexual aggression, being passionately taken, is what I want, and I rarely get it from the men I choose.
Of course it's been obvious all along why this happens. I just never realized that I was actively rejecting sexually aggressive men, choosing more ... passive? no ... sensitive? no ... something-or-other men.
What happens is that early in the dating dance, I lose interest in a man as soon as he touches me without permission anywhere except my hands. Even just an arm around my shoulders will turn me off. He can't put an arm around me until I have snuggled into his shoulder to signal acceptance. Any man who touches me in any intimate way (and with me that's pretty much anywhere but the hands) before the first date will never get a first date. I never knew, until now, why I'd lose interest. Some guy would grab a quick hug, and I'd think "well, he's a nice guy, but I don't think we're compatible", without thinking about why we "weren't compatible". I guess because it's not reasonable for me to be turned off by a hug, I couldn't recognize that as the problem.
The men who passed the test were those men who were sensitive to and respected those signals. Gentlemen.
And then later, after we're intimate, I'm dissatisfied when he still waits for and respects the signals.
Hmmmmm. Where did that come from.
This probably goes back to my twenties, when I was emotionally fragile, and was taken advantage of by unscrupulous men. Many. It's like they can smell weakness. Wolves. Men who have no respect for any women in any way. Then in my mid-thirties, after several years of psychotherapy, I found me, and I got strong. I insist on respect now. And I guess one indicator of respect, in my mind, is that you don't touch me without permission.
So I select for men who demonstrate the proper respect. That turns out to be men who wait for me to initiate.
How do I fix that? I don't want to trade in the man I have now, but would it involve changing a basic part of his personality? I've already made it pretty clear verbally that he doesn't need specific permission, anywhere, any time, and I know he's capable of it. He surprised me once. I loved it! And I didn't even make him replace anything. How can I make that happen more often? Maybe I can suggest we take turns, and hey, it's your turn!
.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
1711 I Hate ... Something, or Somebody
Saturday, March 1, 2008
We haven't had a lot of snow this winter. It has snowed often, but not a lot all at once. However, I've had a lot more trouble handling the snow this winter, more even than the year that we had several 2'+ storms. I'm starting to hate snow, or forecasts, or forecasters, or something. It's the expectations that have messed me up.
Like, the snow a week ago yesterday. I was away for the weekend. When I got home Sunday evening, I figured I'd have to clear the driveway on Monday. But Monday was warm and sunny, and the snow was melting, the lower part of the drive was partially clear by mid-afternoon, so I decided to let it go. You can't use a snowthrower on wet mushy snow, anyway.
Snow was predicted Tuesday to the north of us, but all the maps, and weathermen, and the government weather radio assured me that we would get none, so I figured it would continue to melt in the sun.
Instead, surprise, we got several inches. That wouldn't have been too bad, except that it didn't warm up, so the slushy weekend snow froze into uneven ridges of schlice where I had driven over it, and then it rained after Tuesday's snow, so I had crusty new snow on top of the schlice. It remained below freezing, in the teens in fact, for the rest of the week.
So last night we were supposed to get 8-12" of fluff. I canceled my plans for the weekend because I knew I'd be spending today throwing fluff. AND, knowing that I wouldn't be able to run the snowthrower through the ridged frozen stuff already there, I paid a man $50 yesterday to plow the frozen stuff off, BEFORE the storm came, so I'd have a fresh surface to clear today.
We got all of 2 or 3".
And by noon it was already getting heavy and wet, AND it was drizzling rain, which tonight has frozen into a crust. Sigh. You ask why I didn't get out there early and throw it? Because (you'd think I'd know better by now) all the maps, and forecasters, and government weather radio reports said this morning that we'll have temperatures in the 40's starting Monday, and then for at least the next six days.
I've about had it. I'd rather we got snow, and then COLD until I can blow the fluff away. This thawing and shushing and crusting is miserable. Like it's toying with me.
------------------------------
My laptop or connection or something is also toying with me. Screens usually load quickly. I click on a link, and in a second or two, I'm on the next screen. Today, it's been 10 or 20 seconds of that slow "loading bar" across the bottom. Something is very wrong.
I have it set up to automatically clear temp files and ...uh... I forget the word, but when it moves pieces of files around on the hard disk so they're all together and easy to access? ... anyway, all that stuff gets done on the fly once a week or so.
I also run virus etc. scans on the fly, and started a scan manually this morning as soon as I noticed the slowdown.
Nada.
Fooey.
.
We haven't had a lot of snow this winter. It has snowed often, but not a lot all at once. However, I've had a lot more trouble handling the snow this winter, more even than the year that we had several 2'+ storms. I'm starting to hate snow, or forecasts, or forecasters, or something. It's the expectations that have messed me up.
Like, the snow a week ago yesterday. I was away for the weekend. When I got home Sunday evening, I figured I'd have to clear the driveway on Monday. But Monday was warm and sunny, and the snow was melting, the lower part of the drive was partially clear by mid-afternoon, so I decided to let it go. You can't use a snowthrower on wet mushy snow, anyway.
Snow was predicted Tuesday to the north of us, but all the maps, and weathermen, and the government weather radio assured me that we would get none, so I figured it would continue to melt in the sun.
Instead, surprise, we got several inches. That wouldn't have been too bad, except that it didn't warm up, so the slushy weekend snow froze into uneven ridges of schlice where I had driven over it, and then it rained after Tuesday's snow, so I had crusty new snow on top of the schlice. It remained below freezing, in the teens in fact, for the rest of the week.
So last night we were supposed to get 8-12" of fluff. I canceled my plans for the weekend because I knew I'd be spending today throwing fluff. AND, knowing that I wouldn't be able to run the snowthrower through the ridged frozen stuff already there, I paid a man $50 yesterday to plow the frozen stuff off, BEFORE the storm came, so I'd have a fresh surface to clear today.
We got all of 2 or 3".
And by noon it was already getting heavy and wet, AND it was drizzling rain, which tonight has frozen into a crust. Sigh. You ask why I didn't get out there early and throw it? Because (you'd think I'd know better by now) all the maps, and forecasters, and government weather radio reports said this morning that we'll have temperatures in the 40's starting Monday, and then for at least the next six days.
I've about had it. I'd rather we got snow, and then COLD until I can blow the fluff away. This thawing and shushing and crusting is miserable. Like it's toying with me.
------------------------------
My laptop or connection or something is also toying with me. Screens usually load quickly. I click on a link, and in a second or two, I'm on the next screen. Today, it's been 10 or 20 seconds of that slow "loading bar" across the bottom. Something is very wrong.
I have it set up to automatically clear temp files and ...uh... I forget the word, but when it moves pieces of files around on the hard disk so they're all together and easy to access? ... anyway, all that stuff gets done on the fly once a week or so.
I also run virus etc. scans on the fly, and started a scan manually this morning as soon as I noticed the slowdown.
Nada.
Fooey.
.
Friday, February 29, 2008
1710 Friday. More snow.
Friday, February 29, 2008
We're expecting 8-12 inches of snow this evening. Daffodils are blooming in Oregon. Disconnect!
-----------------------
I tuned in to "The View" a bit late this morning, so I missed the first part, so I may have it a bit wrong, but they seemed to be talking about some study that said diets and weight maintenance work better if the mental set, the goal, is to "avoid being fat" rather than to "get thin". Some of the women seemed to understand the difference, but Whoopie didn't.
At first, I saw the difference, but then, after I thought about it a while, I didn't.
Then someone (who doesn't have a weight problem) said something that was very significant, but no one pounced on it. She said, "I think I'm thinner than I am. Maybe a bit of body-image distortion."
That may be the difference between "to aviod being fat", and to "get thin". If you think you're thinner than you are, you're more relaxed about the whole thing. Your goal then is to avoid putting it on, not to "be thin".
I think I think I'm thinner than I am. Except for the belly pad and thighs (which in my opinion are more more leftover loose skin than fat), I'm pretty satisfied. I figure I'm about 10 pounds over where I'd like to be, but I'm not fussing over it.
And then I see photographs, and I'm horrified. Take a good look at the behind on the lady over there in the right column. What shows in photos just isn't what I see in the mirror.
The ladies were talking about how if you were overweight as a child, and lost the weight, you continue to think of yourself as overweight even when you're not. I was not thin when I was young, but everything I had was muscle (I had a well-defined six-pack and powerful legs) and lady-stuff (and lots of that). In the same vein, Barbara Walters talked about how she's been bottle blonde for many decades, but she still thinks of herself as a brunette, like when choosing clothing colors that would or would not look good on her.
That's strange to me. I was born platinum, and was blonde until about third grade, when my hair started to darken. From junior high right up until Jay got sick, my hair was medium dark brown with red highlights. I went "pale ash blonde" again during Jay's illness (yeah, it was really fast. I'd had a white spot on the top of my head since high school, and when Jay got sick it expanded exponentially.)
When I had dark hair I looked best in bright jewel colors - emerald green, ruby red - and rust browns. Pastels (except pink) just didn't work on me. I've had less than a decade to get used to the light hair (which, incidentally, I like, and which really does feel natural to me), but I have easily and naturally moved into pastels.
A side benefit - pastels bring out my pale eyes.
Ok, so, my seeing myself as thinner than I am, and my easy adjustment to changed coloring, is that because I was the recommended weight and blonde as a child? Has the child within come out?
-------------------------------------
I thought today was Sadie Hawkins Day. I sent a note to my friend asking him how fast he can run. Then I looked it up. Sadie Hawkins Day is in November, every year! Today is just leap day. Duh! (Friend replied that he's pretty spry, but I'm allowed to use roller skates.)
-------------------------------------
Go to http://www.tatuagemdaboa.com.br/ . Wait for the lady to appear, then write your first name on the first line, and your last name on the second line. No need to give an email address. Then click VISUALIZAR. Cute, but probably cuter if you're male.
--------------------------------------
A Mountain Dew commercial presents as fact that the yo-yo was originally invented as a weapon. That's not true. Very annoying. There are some cartoon characters, notably Japanese, who use yo-yos as weapons, but hey, that's CARTOON! Yo-yos were invented as toys a few thousand years ago.
It would be more accurate to say that baseball bats were invented as weapons.
.
We're expecting 8-12 inches of snow this evening. Daffodils are blooming in Oregon. Disconnect!
-----------------------
I tuned in to "The View" a bit late this morning, so I missed the first part, so I may have it a bit wrong, but they seemed to be talking about some study that said diets and weight maintenance work better if the mental set, the goal, is to "avoid being fat" rather than to "get thin". Some of the women seemed to understand the difference, but Whoopie didn't.
At first, I saw the difference, but then, after I thought about it a while, I didn't.
Then someone (who doesn't have a weight problem) said something that was very significant, but no one pounced on it. She said, "I think I'm thinner than I am. Maybe a bit of body-image distortion."
That may be the difference between "to aviod being fat", and to "get thin". If you think you're thinner than you are, you're more relaxed about the whole thing. Your goal then is to avoid putting it on, not to "be thin".
I think I think I'm thinner than I am. Except for the belly pad and thighs (which in my opinion are more more leftover loose skin than fat), I'm pretty satisfied. I figure I'm about 10 pounds over where I'd like to be, but I'm not fussing over it.
And then I see photographs, and I'm horrified. Take a good look at the behind on the lady over there in the right column. What shows in photos just isn't what I see in the mirror.
The ladies were talking about how if you were overweight as a child, and lost the weight, you continue to think of yourself as overweight even when you're not. I was not thin when I was young, but everything I had was muscle (I had a well-defined six-pack and powerful legs) and lady-stuff (and lots of that). In the same vein, Barbara Walters talked about how she's been bottle blonde for many decades, but she still thinks of herself as a brunette, like when choosing clothing colors that would or would not look good on her.
That's strange to me. I was born platinum, and was blonde until about third grade, when my hair started to darken. From junior high right up until Jay got sick, my hair was medium dark brown with red highlights. I went "pale ash blonde" again during Jay's illness (yeah, it was really fast. I'd had a white spot on the top of my head since high school, and when Jay got sick it expanded exponentially.)
When I had dark hair I looked best in bright jewel colors - emerald green, ruby red - and rust browns. Pastels (except pink) just didn't work on me. I've had less than a decade to get used to the light hair (which, incidentally, I like, and which really does feel natural to me), but I have easily and naturally moved into pastels.
A side benefit - pastels bring out my pale eyes.
Ok, so, my seeing myself as thinner than I am, and my easy adjustment to changed coloring, is that because I was the recommended weight and blonde as a child? Has the child within come out?
-------------------------------------
I thought today was Sadie Hawkins Day. I sent a note to my friend asking him how fast he can run. Then I looked it up. Sadie Hawkins Day is in November, every year! Today is just leap day. Duh! (Friend replied that he's pretty spry, but I'm allowed to use roller skates.)
-------------------------------------
Go to http://www.tatuagemdaboa.com.br/ . Wait for the lady to appear, then write your first name on the first line, and your last name on the second line. No need to give an email address. Then click VISUALIZAR. Cute, but probably cuter if you're male.
--------------------------------------
A Mountain Dew commercial presents as fact that the yo-yo was originally invented as a weapon. That's not true. Very annoying. There are some cartoon characters, notably Japanese, who use yo-yos as weapons, but hey, that's CARTOON! Yo-yos were invented as toys a few thousand years ago.
It would be more accurate to say that baseball bats were invented as weapons.
.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
1709 Thursday
Thursday, February 28, 2008
I started in the graduating class of '66 at my Pennsylvania college, and graduated early, with the class of '65, so most of the people I knew were in those groups. When I registered at the alumni website, I requested notification for classes from '63 to '68, since that would include just about everyone I knew. It was a small college (it's now a medium university), graduating about 200 people each year. I knew everybody who majored in math, and everybody who played pinochle, and between the two, that was probably half the school.
Over the past ten years, there have been announcements on the alumni site of awards, promotions, honors, grandchildren, and, uh, something odd - only once has it been someone I knew. It looks like the math and pinochle folks never did anything, or they just didn't announce it.
Over the past ten months, a disturbing trend has started, and seems to be increasing - black-bordered announcements - and this time it's names I recognize. There have been five so far this year from my graduating class. (If the alumni group was notified of five, how many more have we not heard about? Not all the class is registered online.)
It feels so odd. I feel young and healthy. Nine months ago I walked seven miles in high-heeled boots and didn't even notice. I'm dating a much younger man. I'm still waiting for grandchildren.
They never mention the cause of death. I wish I knew. I'd like to hear that his bungee line broke, or a lion ate her on safari. I don't want to think that they just plain fell apart.
--------------------------------------
This is funny. I'm not imbedding it because it's Adults Only, and not suitable for work. But if you're over 18, follow the link. Warning - it can turn into an earworm. You may find yourself singing it at work.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2s1AiGSxzA
Of course I'm going to send it to a few female friends.
----------------------------------------
On the kitty front, Jasper's probably heading into his first birthday, and he's still a little bird. He is now fascinated by the toilet, stands there peering into it as it flushes. I hope he never figures out how to flush it, like Gizmo here:
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WofFb_eOxxA#]
He's so curious about the toilet that now he wants to stick his head between my thighs when I'm sitting down, so he can see what's going on in there. Cracks me up. His ears tickle.
Water in general seems to fascinate him. I had been using one of those automatic water containers that consists of a jug upsidedown in a bowl. The jug holds about 2 quarts of water. I had to switch to a small ordinary (unspillable) bowl, because he paws and splashes at water, and was emptying the full 2 quarts all over the floor every other day.
.
I started in the graduating class of '66 at my Pennsylvania college, and graduated early, with the class of '65, so most of the people I knew were in those groups. When I registered at the alumni website, I requested notification for classes from '63 to '68, since that would include just about everyone I knew. It was a small college (it's now a medium university), graduating about 200 people each year. I knew everybody who majored in math, and everybody who played pinochle, and between the two, that was probably half the school.
Over the past ten years, there have been announcements on the alumni site of awards, promotions, honors, grandchildren, and, uh, something odd - only once has it been someone I knew. It looks like the math and pinochle folks never did anything, or they just didn't announce it.
Over the past ten months, a disturbing trend has started, and seems to be increasing - black-bordered announcements - and this time it's names I recognize. There have been five so far this year from my graduating class. (If the alumni group was notified of five, how many more have we not heard about? Not all the class is registered online.)
It feels so odd. I feel young and healthy. Nine months ago I walked seven miles in high-heeled boots and didn't even notice. I'm dating a much younger man. I'm still waiting for grandchildren.
They never mention the cause of death. I wish I knew. I'd like to hear that his bungee line broke, or a lion ate her on safari. I don't want to think that they just plain fell apart.
--------------------------------------
This is funny. I'm not imbedding it because it's Adults Only, and not suitable for work. But if you're over 18, follow the link. Warning - it can turn into an earworm. You may find yourself singing it at work.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2s1AiGSxzA
Of course I'm going to send it to a few female friends.
----------------------------------------
On the kitty front, Jasper's probably heading into his first birthday, and he's still a little bird. He is now fascinated by the toilet, stands there peering into it as it flushes. I hope he never figures out how to flush it, like Gizmo here:
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WofFb_eOxxA#]
He's so curious about the toilet that now he wants to stick his head between my thighs when I'm sitting down, so he can see what's going on in there. Cracks me up. His ears tickle.
Water in general seems to fascinate him. I had been using one of those automatic water containers that consists of a jug upsidedown in a bowl. The jug holds about 2 quarts of water. I had to switch to a small ordinary (unspillable) bowl, because he paws and splashes at water, and was emptying the full 2 quarts all over the floor every other day.
.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
1708 Bored on a Nothing Wednesday
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
TV, "NCIS". Cops arrive at the apartment door, guns drawn. Yell, "NCIS! Warrant!", pause one second (I counted), violently kick door open.
That disturbed me a lot. What if they had the wrong door? It happens.... What if innocent little I was on the other side of that door, about to open it, or about to ask, "Who? What? Huh?" I'd get the edge of the door right smack full in the face.
I hope that one second timing was poetic license. Or if they have to go in fast to prevent escape, they should yell "Get away from the door!"
--------------------------
There's a bit about the candidates that could make an enormous difference to me, but it's not information we'll get until it's too late to matter to the election.
I'd love to know who they intend to (or would like to) appoint to cabinet and executive positions. That might tell me a lot about what the next few years with them would be like.
(Some people would like to know who'd be their choice for vice-president in time for primaries, but since I can't vote in primaries, only the general election, by the time that matters to me it's known.)
.
TV, "NCIS". Cops arrive at the apartment door, guns drawn. Yell, "NCIS! Warrant!", pause one second (I counted), violently kick door open.
That disturbed me a lot. What if they had the wrong door? It happens.... What if innocent little I was on the other side of that door, about to open it, or about to ask, "Who? What? Huh?" I'd get the edge of the door right smack full in the face.
I hope that one second timing was poetic license. Or if they have to go in fast to prevent escape, they should yell "Get away from the door!"
--------------------------
There's a bit about the candidates that could make an enormous difference to me, but it's not information we'll get until it's too late to matter to the election.
I'd love to know who they intend to (or would like to) appoint to cabinet and executive positions. That might tell me a lot about what the next few years with them would be like.
(Some people would like to know who'd be their choice for vice-president in time for primaries, but since I can't vote in primaries, only the general election, by the time that matters to me it's known.)
.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
1707 Selling and Settling
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Business meeting followed by lunch in the pub with Piper today. Piper had met my friend on Saturday, when friend and I had passed through the village and stopped for lunch, and we ran into Piper, and I was interested in his reaction. He approves. Says he got "good vibes". That's nice. Piper is a very good judge of people, and he's not going to sugarcoat for me.
My driveway was full of snow when I returned on Sunday, but I didn't clear it yesterday because it was melting nicely. There was a storm predicted today, but ALL the TV maps and all the online maps showed the snow to the north of us. We absolutely weren't supposed to get anything more than a little rain.
When I left the house this morning to meet Piper, it was snowing heavily. After lunch, Piper had to drive south to a meeting in Fishkill, and I was worried about it, so I asked him to call when he got back. He called at 5, and said that as soon as he got out of the village, it turned to rain. No problem. He went on to say that the snow had now stopped in the village. I looked out the window, and it was still coming down thickly here at my house.
There's something strange about this place. I've mentioned before that when I drive north from NJ, I get depressed as soon as I get within three miles of home - because the snow is so much deeper here. It's a three mile radius circle around my house. Even north of here has less snow.
I don't understand.
--------------------------------
There's a commercial, I don't know exactly for what brand, but it tells us about a girl in South Africa who is "forced to miss school as much as one week out of four" because she doesn't have sanitary supplies. Buy our product, and we'll contribute (pads or tampons, I forget which) to girls in African villages.
Um, forced?
I went to high school in a very economically depressed area. Very few girls in my high school could afford to buy a commercial product that they'd use once and throw away. That would have been seen as the height of extravagance. Profligacy. Stupidity. They used the same thing their mothers and grandmothers had used - rags. Skillfully folded, pinned or tied, washed, bleached and then boiled, and reused.
Nobody is going to convince me that a girl is FORCED to miss school because she doesn't have access to rags and boiling water. Sorry. I don't buy your sob story. You don't have to have something just because someone is selling it.
Ok, I'm tough. And yes, I have used rags. That's where the expression "on the rag" comes from, you know.
-------------------------------
"Settling", for and against, has been all over the blogosphere this past week, after an article written by Lori Gottlieb in The Atlantic. She says that women should settle for “Mr. Good Enough” before it’s too late.
A lot of men don't want to marry these days. They'd rather have serial long term uncommitted relationships. Stay while it's good, get out when it isn't good any more, without all those costly legal entanglements. The number of younger men who have a genuine desire to get married is dropping. Women's clocks are ticking, and men don't have a clock, until they start to fall apart, and then they want to marry a nursemaid. So Ms. Gottlieb's point is that if your standards are too high, you may never find the perfect man, the soul mate, the passion, who will ALSO be willing to marry you, and so you'll have to lower your expectations. Settle.
I haven't heard anyone else say this, so I will: It's women's fault. We have made it too easy for the valuable men to get anything they want without having to make any committment. It's Nature for woman to want home and family, and for man to want woman. But the old expression is "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free"? We're giving too much away. We've made it too easy for men. Female sexual freedom came with a price, and now we don't want to pay it.
This has a deeper effect that no one has mentioned (not in what I've read, anyway). If there are children (and even in an uncommitted/temporary relationship, an unmarried woman in her mid to late 30s is hearing the clock ticking), when the man leaves the children will most likely be left to the woman's care. Sure, he'll likely pay support, but it's the woman whose career takes the hit. Raising a child takes more than money. It takes time. She can't put in the overtime, go on the business trips, take evening classes, she has to stay home during measels and mumps and childcare glitches. She becomes professionally undependable. He goes on with his life. His career progresses and hers stalls. He can afford the damn child support! He's getting raises. (Not to mention time for dating.) She is slowed down for the rest of her life.
Damn it ladies, stop giving your lives away! Stop making it so easy. We old feminists worked hard to get you younger ones an equal chance for the good-paying jobs. You're letting the men take it all away! And they're chuckling about it. They know they have you over a barrel.
Make him work to deserve you. Make him share the responsibilities and effects of the fun times.
Stop giving yourselves away!
---------------------------
The "Silken Touch" is turning into a riding crop lately, eh?
.
Business meeting followed by lunch in the pub with Piper today. Piper had met my friend on Saturday, when friend and I had passed through the village and stopped for lunch, and we ran into Piper, and I was interested in his reaction. He approves. Says he got "good vibes". That's nice. Piper is a very good judge of people, and he's not going to sugarcoat for me.
My driveway was full of snow when I returned on Sunday, but I didn't clear it yesterday because it was melting nicely. There was a storm predicted today, but ALL the TV maps and all the online maps showed the snow to the north of us. We absolutely weren't supposed to get anything more than a little rain.
When I left the house this morning to meet Piper, it was snowing heavily. After lunch, Piper had to drive south to a meeting in Fishkill, and I was worried about it, so I asked him to call when he got back. He called at 5, and said that as soon as he got out of the village, it turned to rain. No problem. He went on to say that the snow had now stopped in the village. I looked out the window, and it was still coming down thickly here at my house.
There's something strange about this place. I've mentioned before that when I drive north from NJ, I get depressed as soon as I get within three miles of home - because the snow is so much deeper here. It's a three mile radius circle around my house. Even north of here has less snow.
I don't understand.
--------------------------------
There's a commercial, I don't know exactly for what brand, but it tells us about a girl in South Africa who is "forced to miss school as much as one week out of four" because she doesn't have sanitary supplies. Buy our product, and we'll contribute (pads or tampons, I forget which) to girls in African villages.
Um, forced?
I went to high school in a very economically depressed area. Very few girls in my high school could afford to buy a commercial product that they'd use once and throw away. That would have been seen as the height of extravagance. Profligacy. Stupidity. They used the same thing their mothers and grandmothers had used - rags. Skillfully folded, pinned or tied, washed, bleached and then boiled, and reused.
Nobody is going to convince me that a girl is FORCED to miss school because she doesn't have access to rags and boiling water. Sorry. I don't buy your sob story. You don't have to have something just because someone is selling it.
Ok, I'm tough. And yes, I have used rags. That's where the expression "on the rag" comes from, you know.
-------------------------------
"Settling", for and against, has been all over the blogosphere this past week, after an article written by Lori Gottlieb in The Atlantic. She says that women should settle for “Mr. Good Enough” before it’s too late.
A lot of men don't want to marry these days. They'd rather have serial long term uncommitted relationships. Stay while it's good, get out when it isn't good any more, without all those costly legal entanglements. The number of younger men who have a genuine desire to get married is dropping. Women's clocks are ticking, and men don't have a clock, until they start to fall apart, and then they want to marry a nursemaid. So Ms. Gottlieb's point is that if your standards are too high, you may never find the perfect man, the soul mate, the passion, who will ALSO be willing to marry you, and so you'll have to lower your expectations. Settle.
I haven't heard anyone else say this, so I will: It's women's fault. We have made it too easy for the valuable men to get anything they want without having to make any committment. It's Nature for woman to want home and family, and for man to want woman. But the old expression is "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free"? We're giving too much away. We've made it too easy for men. Female sexual freedom came with a price, and now we don't want to pay it.
This has a deeper effect that no one has mentioned (not in what I've read, anyway). If there are children (and even in an uncommitted/temporary relationship, an unmarried woman in her mid to late 30s is hearing the clock ticking), when the man leaves the children will most likely be left to the woman's care. Sure, he'll likely pay support, but it's the woman whose career takes the hit. Raising a child takes more than money. It takes time. She can't put in the overtime, go on the business trips, take evening classes, she has to stay home during measels and mumps and childcare glitches. She becomes professionally undependable. He goes on with his life. His career progresses and hers stalls. He can afford the damn child support! He's getting raises. (Not to mention time for dating.) She is slowed down for the rest of her life.
Damn it ladies, stop giving your lives away! Stop making it so easy. We old feminists worked hard to get you younger ones an equal chance for the good-paying jobs. You're letting the men take it all away! And they're chuckling about it. They know they have you over a barrel.
Make him work to deserve you. Make him share the responsibilities and effects of the fun times.
Stop giving yourselves away!
---------------------------
The "Silken Touch" is turning into a riding crop lately, eh?
.
Monday, February 25, 2008
1706 The War Between the States, Take Two....
Monday, February 25, 2008
"CSI Miami" just started. Some guy got murdered by a pool, surrounded by other people, and no one noticed because they were all staring at a solar eclipse - with no eye protection, just staring straight up at it. Sheesh! I don't believe it! You'd think somebody on the show would know better!
That's in the same class as the way nobody on TV wears a seat belt.
-------------------------------
This is cute. The Georgia legislature has passed a resolution that the border between Georgia and Tennessee should be redrawn 1.1 miles to the north, to allow drought-stricken Georgia access to water from the Tennessee River. (Chris's take on it is at http://inanethoughtsandinsaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/02/blue-green-planet.html.)
The rationale is that "Congress in 1796 designated that Tennessee's southern borders should stretch along the 35th parallel, but surveyors in 1818 missed that mark by about 1.1 miles to the south."
They JUST noticed?
Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia would gain land (Mississippi would acquire a piece of Memphis), and Tennessee and North Carolina would lose land.
The Georgia legislature (singing "This Land Is Your Land") is serious, say they'll take it to the Supreme Court if a compromise isn't reached.
These are the people for whom the soup can instructions say "Step 1: Open can".
.
"CSI Miami" just started. Some guy got murdered by a pool, surrounded by other people, and no one noticed because they were all staring at a solar eclipse - with no eye protection, just staring straight up at it. Sheesh! I don't believe it! You'd think somebody on the show would know better!
That's in the same class as the way nobody on TV wears a seat belt.
-------------------------------
This is cute. The Georgia legislature has passed a resolution that the border between Georgia and Tennessee should be redrawn 1.1 miles to the north, to allow drought-stricken Georgia access to water from the Tennessee River. (Chris's take on it is at http://inanethoughtsandinsaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/02/blue-green-planet.html.)
The rationale is that "Congress in 1796 designated that Tennessee's southern borders should stretch along the 35th parallel, but surveyors in 1818 missed that mark by about 1.1 miles to the south."
They JUST noticed?
Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia would gain land (Mississippi would acquire a piece of Memphis), and Tennessee and North Carolina would lose land.
The Georgia legislature (singing "This Land Is Your Land") is serious, say they'll take it to the Supreme Court if a compromise isn't reached.
These are the people for whom the soup can instructions say "Step 1: Open can".
.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
1705 Warm Weekend
Sunday, February 24, 2008
I had a very nice weekend. I drove south on Friday through the snowstorm, and he drove north through the worst part of the storm, and we met halfway. I learned a few more things about him, and about myself, and I'm more comfortable now than I have been so far. I no longer feel like I don't know what's going on. I am content. Probably just for now, until I get antsy and want reassurance again, but for now, I love, I am loved, I understand more, and I am content.
When I got home this evening, there was snow on the driveway, but I felt courageous, backed up and got a head start, and bulled up the driveway. Actually made it all the way up. Wow!
.
I had a very nice weekend. I drove south on Friday through the snowstorm, and he drove north through the worst part of the storm, and we met halfway. I learned a few more things about him, and about myself, and I'm more comfortable now than I have been so far. I no longer feel like I don't know what's going on. I am content. Probably just for now, until I get antsy and want reassurance again, but for now, I love, I am loved, I understand more, and I am content.
When I got home this evening, there was snow on the driveway, but I felt courageous, backed up and got a head start, and bulled up the driveway. Actually made it all the way up. Wow!
.
Friday, February 22, 2008
1704 Weather Pixie
Friday, February 22, 2008
I have a little weather pixie over there on the right, just above Dilbert. She's dressed for the weather, and right now is standing in a snowstorm - just like me. She shows the current temperature, humidity, pressure, wind direction and speed, and the time that she was last updated.
Well, she claims to be dressed for the weather, but if she were my daughter, she wouldn't be leaving the house in that skimpy little jacket....
------------------------------
I've been getting a lot of semi-spam email from merchants with whom I have done business. They all contain the "to unsubscribe" link, and so one by one I've been unsubscribing.
What gets me is that they all, on the unsubscribe screen, say that it will take up to 10 days to get my email address off their lists. And they seem to mean it. I removed myself from a particular sewing supplies list a good ten days ago, and I'm still getting every-other-day emails from them.
Bull poopy!
It's not like they have ten days worth of already-addressed envelopes lined up in a mail room somewhere. Come on! When they are about to send their advertising emails, the address list is used then, on the fly. It's "real-time". So search for my email address in your lists, remove it, and it's immediate. What's with this ten-day crap?
.
I have a little weather pixie over there on the right, just above Dilbert. She's dressed for the weather, and right now is standing in a snowstorm - just like me. She shows the current temperature, humidity, pressure, wind direction and speed, and the time that she was last updated.
Well, she claims to be dressed for the weather, but if she were my daughter, she wouldn't be leaving the house in that skimpy little jacket....
------------------------------
I've been getting a lot of semi-spam email from merchants with whom I have done business. They all contain the "to unsubscribe" link, and so one by one I've been unsubscribing.
What gets me is that they all, on the unsubscribe screen, say that it will take up to 10 days to get my email address off their lists. And they seem to mean it. I removed myself from a particular sewing supplies list a good ten days ago, and I'm still getting every-other-day emails from them.
Bull poopy!
It's not like they have ten days worth of already-addressed envelopes lined up in a mail room somewhere. Come on! When they are about to send their advertising emails, the address list is used then, on the fly. It's "real-time". So search for my email address in your lists, remove it, and it's immediate. What's with this ten-day crap?
.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
1703 Hot Stuff
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Know how you don't think about a certain whatever, ever? And then all of a sudden it's everywhere? Well, I'm not a big fan of hot peppers in any form. About the only time I even think about them is when I'm in a restaurant, and I verify that nobody's going to bring me anything that's got them.
Seems like the past few days, that's all I'm reading and hearing about. Recipies. Studies of how hot various varieties are, and studies of how much the human body can take. Recommendations for keeping squirrels out of bird feeders. All kinds of stuff, a couple times a day for the past few days.
Today I came across the only information that REALLY interests me - how to kill the burn if you accidentally get bitten.
The active ingredient is capsaicin. I never thought about it before, but capsaicin is alkaline, a base. So what you want to neutralize it is an acid, like milk. (Another thing I never thought about - that milk is an acid. Yeah, ok, milk has lactic acid, yeah, I knew that, but somehow it never registered. I always thought of milk as alkaline, without thinking about it. I guess because of the way it reacts to vinegar.)
Anyway, that's why hot Indian foods are served with yogurt. Soy milk is not the same. Skim milk won't work, because the capsaicin is carried in the oils from the peppers, and you need the fat in the milk or yogurt to lift and dilute the oil so the lactic acid can get to the capsaicin. Even better is condensed milk, or cream. If you get the burn in your eyes or other sensitive areas, soak a washcloth in milk or yogurt, and apply. After handling peppers, wash with soap and water, then soak your fingertips in milk to neutralize anything that might remain under your fingernails.
Other things that will work (but not on the eyes) are orange juice, citrus slices, beer, or vinegar, although the last two don't do as good a job of diluting the oil.
Cool, eh?
Nobody said anything about Coke, but given the way it eats the hard water salts in my toilets, I bet that would work, too.
.
Know how you don't think about a certain whatever, ever? And then all of a sudden it's everywhere? Well, I'm not a big fan of hot peppers in any form. About the only time I even think about them is when I'm in a restaurant, and I verify that nobody's going to bring me anything that's got them.
Seems like the past few days, that's all I'm reading and hearing about. Recipies. Studies of how hot various varieties are, and studies of how much the human body can take. Recommendations for keeping squirrels out of bird feeders. All kinds of stuff, a couple times a day for the past few days.
Today I came across the only information that REALLY interests me - how to kill the burn if you accidentally get bitten.
The active ingredient is capsaicin. I never thought about it before, but capsaicin is alkaline, a base. So what you want to neutralize it is an acid, like milk. (Another thing I never thought about - that milk is an acid. Yeah, ok, milk has lactic acid, yeah, I knew that, but somehow it never registered. I always thought of milk as alkaline, without thinking about it. I guess because of the way it reacts to vinegar.)
Anyway, that's why hot Indian foods are served with yogurt. Soy milk is not the same. Skim milk won't work, because the capsaicin is carried in the oils from the peppers, and you need the fat in the milk or yogurt to lift and dilute the oil so the lactic acid can get to the capsaicin. Even better is condensed milk, or cream. If you get the burn in your eyes or other sensitive areas, soak a washcloth in milk or yogurt, and apply. After handling peppers, wash with soap and water, then soak your fingertips in milk to neutralize anything that might remain under your fingernails.
Other things that will work (but not on the eyes) are orange juice, citrus slices, beer, or vinegar, although the last two don't do as good a job of diluting the oil.
Cool, eh?
Nobody said anything about Coke, but given the way it eats the hard water salts in my toilets, I bet that would work, too.
.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
1702 Tuesday 2/19
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
I am on a "budget plan" with the electric company. This means that I pay a set amount every month, based on my average usage. They review it every so often and reset the amount.
So, I got a letter from Central Hudson. Last year I sent them $1,660.54 in payments. My actual usage was $1,572.51. Therefore they are raising my monthly payment by $7.
Therefore?
I don't understand.
------------------------
I got an email from a friend this evening. He had heard that "a North American dictator had stepped down, and Floridians were celebrating", got all excited, and was terribly disappointed when he discovered it was Castro. (Giggle.)
-------------------------
Naturally, I had to check that "North America" part. Opinion is divided. Some consider Cuba geographically part of North America, politically part of South America. There are arguments for Central America. And there are those of us who think the assignment of "continents" is pretty arbitrary anyway, like Europe and Asia are different continents? North America and Central America are different continents? Huh? ...and prefer to call Cuba part of "The Americas".
.
I am on a "budget plan" with the electric company. This means that I pay a set amount every month, based on my average usage. They review it every so often and reset the amount.
So, I got a letter from Central Hudson. Last year I sent them $1,660.54 in payments. My actual usage was $1,572.51. Therefore they are raising my monthly payment by $7.
Therefore?
I don't understand.
------------------------
I got an email from a friend this evening. He had heard that "a North American dictator had stepped down, and Floridians were celebrating", got all excited, and was terribly disappointed when he discovered it was Castro. (Giggle.)
-------------------------
Naturally, I had to check that "North America" part. Opinion is divided. Some consider Cuba geographically part of North America, politically part of South America. There are arguments for Central America. And there are those of us who think the assignment of "continents" is pretty arbitrary anyway, like Europe and Asia are different continents? North America and Central America are different continents? Huh? ...and prefer to call Cuba part of "The Americas".
.
Monday, February 18, 2008
1701 New Scheme
Monday, February 18, 2008
I'm going to try something. Instead of multiple posts per day (can you tell I have no one to talk to?) I'm going to start one post per day, file it as a draft, update it when I feel like it, and post it at the end of the day. That'll make for some long entries, I guess, but only one a day.
-----------------------
Today I went to an art exhibition, at the invitation of one of the artists. It ran for four days, Friday through today, in a historic building housing a legislator's offices. The advertised hours, both on the postcard I received and the personal email I got from the friend, were 10 am 'til 5 pm. Today was the first day I was able to go. It was a 45 minute drive, through the mountains, and I got there at 3:42 pm.
The place was cleared out. Exhibitors had packed up their cars and were leaving. A few people were moving furniture back into place when I arrived. There wasn't one piece of art anywhere. My friend said that they'd had no visitors since 2 pm, so at 3:00 they started shutting down.
He then "apologized", "I'm so sorry you were too late."
I about exploded. I looked him in the eye to make sure he understood what I was saying, "Bull. I wasn't too late. I was here in plenty of time. You guys didn't uphold your commitment to me and others like me. Your advertised hours were until 5!"
I've seen at lot of that lately - people just don't consider others. Back when I ran the monthly dinner, when we canceled because of snow, when we asked for RSVPs, I made sure everyone who had responded was aware we'd canceled. Sometimes there were no RSVPs required, just show up, and on several of those occasions I drove through a flippin' blizzard to make sure there was at least a note on the door.
Nowadays, it's not unusual to arrive at the appointed place and find no one there. I went to a dinner in Tivoli a few months ago and found the restaurant had closed suddenly a few days before. I was 5 minutes late. No one was there, and there was no note on the door as to a change of venue. I was hungry, so went to another place down the street, and found five other Mensans sitting there. They had all arrived before seven, found it closed, and moved - without leaving a note or waiting to see if anyone else showed up. One more person joined us, a result of the note *I* had left on the door. Hey folks, it really wasn't that difficult....
Bugs the hell out of me.
----------------------------------
Driving to the aborted exhibit, I passed an impressively huge mansion off to the side of the road, turrets and porches and bays. It was abandoned, grey unpainted wood rotting and falling, windows all broken. In person, it looks a LOT bigger than this photo implies.
(There are more of Lucas's photos of the exterior here: http://lucas-photography.blogspot.com/2007/12/bennett-college-in-millbrook-ny.html.)
When I got to the gallery I asked what it was. Until 1976, it was the Bennett College (Millbrook, NY). A very fashionable college (read finishing school) for women (no relation to the Greensboro, NC school of the same name). They ran out of money, and closed, and the building has been empty since. It's a shame. On the way home, I stopped for a closer look. I found another photo online, at http://www.opacity.us/site11_bennett_school_for_girls.htm#gallery17 (scroll UP to see the exterior photo), taken about 2 or three years ago.
Interior here: http://www.opacity.us/gallery17_close_calls.htm. Click on the first photo, then just keep going "next". Below the photos are comments, some very interesting comments from alumni.
A photo of an interior during its heyday here: http://www.hrvh.org/cdm4/item_viewer.php?CISOROOT=/mfl&CISOPTR=44, and more can be found at that Hudson River Valley Heritage website - search for "Bennett College".
I hate to see wonderful old buildings rotting away like that. The stonework is all still in perfect condition.
------------------------------
Howcum calendars that feature landscape photos always have winter photos during the winter months and summer photos during summer months and so on? When I open a new calendar to January, when it's cold and snowy and freezing outside, the last thing I want to see is a snowscape. If I were designing those calendars, I'd have snow scenes in the summer, and summer scenes in the winter.
.
I'm going to try something. Instead of multiple posts per day (can you tell I have no one to talk to?) I'm going to start one post per day, file it as a draft, update it when I feel like it, and post it at the end of the day. That'll make for some long entries, I guess, but only one a day.
-----------------------
Today I went to an art exhibition, at the invitation of one of the artists. It ran for four days, Friday through today, in a historic building housing a legislator's offices. The advertised hours, both on the postcard I received and the personal email I got from the friend, were 10 am 'til 5 pm. Today was the first day I was able to go. It was a 45 minute drive, through the mountains, and I got there at 3:42 pm.
The place was cleared out. Exhibitors had packed up their cars and were leaving. A few people were moving furniture back into place when I arrived. There wasn't one piece of art anywhere. My friend said that they'd had no visitors since 2 pm, so at 3:00 they started shutting down.
He then "apologized", "I'm so sorry you were too late."
I about exploded. I looked him in the eye to make sure he understood what I was saying, "Bull. I wasn't too late. I was here in plenty of time. You guys didn't uphold your commitment to me and others like me. Your advertised hours were until 5!"
I've seen at lot of that lately - people just don't consider others. Back when I ran the monthly dinner, when we canceled because of snow, when we asked for RSVPs, I made sure everyone who had responded was aware we'd canceled. Sometimes there were no RSVPs required, just show up, and on several of those occasions I drove through a flippin' blizzard to make sure there was at least a note on the door.
Nowadays, it's not unusual to arrive at the appointed place and find no one there. I went to a dinner in Tivoli a few months ago and found the restaurant had closed suddenly a few days before. I was 5 minutes late. No one was there, and there was no note on the door as to a change of venue. I was hungry, so went to another place down the street, and found five other Mensans sitting there. They had all arrived before seven, found it closed, and moved - without leaving a note or waiting to see if anyone else showed up. One more person joined us, a result of the note *I* had left on the door. Hey folks, it really wasn't that difficult....
Bugs the hell out of me.
----------------------------------
Driving to the aborted exhibit, I passed an impressively huge mansion off to the side of the road, turrets and porches and bays. It was abandoned, grey unpainted wood rotting and falling, windows all broken. In person, it looks a LOT bigger than this photo implies.
(There are more of Lucas's photos of the exterior here: http://lucas-photography.blogspot.com/2007/12/bennett-college-in-millbrook-ny.html.)
When I got to the gallery I asked what it was. Until 1976, it was the Bennett College (Millbrook, NY). A very fashionable college (read finishing school) for women (no relation to the Greensboro, NC school of the same name). They ran out of money, and closed, and the building has been empty since. It's a shame. On the way home, I stopped for a closer look. I found another photo online, at http://www.opacity.us/site11_bennett_school_for_girls.htm#gallery17 (scroll UP to see the exterior photo), taken about 2 or three years ago.
Interior here: http://www.opacity.us/gallery17_close_calls.htm. Click on the first photo, then just keep going "next". Below the photos are comments, some very interesting comments from alumni.
A photo of an interior during its heyday here: http://www.hrvh.org/cdm4/item_viewer.php?CISOROOT=/mfl&CISOPTR=44, and more can be found at that Hudson River Valley Heritage website - search for "Bennett College".
I hate to see wonderful old buildings rotting away like that. The stonework is all still in perfect condition.
------------------------------
Howcum calendars that feature landscape photos always have winter photos during the winter months and summer photos during summer months and so on? When I open a new calendar to January, when it's cold and snowy and freezing outside, the last thing I want to see is a snowscape. If I were designing those calendars, I'd have snow scenes in the summer, and summer scenes in the winter.
.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)