tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-114494182024-03-13T21:48:24.620-07:00Flaming Scroll of DoomBecause of (. Y .) that's whyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.comBlogger576125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-1009225514441499792018-07-07T22:35:00.000-07:002018-07-07T22:35:47.737-07:00Vacation's All I Ever WantedAh, vacation.<br /><br />
Nevermind that my boss texted me to get the number for the ant exterminator. This blemish was quickly forgotten completely and I can barely remember it at all. Likewise, yes, I want to postpone the week-long event until later. Don't fret colleagues, on Monday I will be among you again.<br /><br />
Meanwhile... Ahhhhhhh.<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xZpm3f9PZbA/W0GZENQv58I/AAAAAAAAFVU/_1HHBVRmQtAB7fb52ODcOUrR8t9I7WVzwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180705_183422525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xZpm3f9PZbA/W0GZENQv58I/AAAAAAAAFVU/_1HHBVRmQtAB7fb52ODcOUrR8t9I7WVzwCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_20180705_183422525.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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We hiked and saw a bunch of nature stuff like this:<br />
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The young tree on the left is honoring the ancestor tree on the right. Seriously, the forest is booming with new little trees.</div>
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When the old trees fall in the forest, they crack and break into bits so I'm pretty sure it makes a HUGE sound.</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bjFsxOTzjKM/W0GXxX5OznI/AAAAAAAAFVE/UXHOIlEsqjkdSWZVIw3Zd_312nEaSVPOQCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180703_155159695.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bjFsxOTzjKM/W0GXxX5OznI/AAAAAAAAFVE/UXHOIlEsqjkdSWZVIw3Zd_312nEaSVPOQCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_20180703_155159695.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Sugar pine cone. Do not stand beneath the trees.</div>
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OMG MEADOW!!!</div>
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And we ate out for dinner a lot. :-) I think I will need to buy new pants.<br />
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Oh, and we replaced the screen door that the bear trashed with a more adequate one. We traveled to exotic Reno Nevada to go to the Home Desperate to get the door which, though nice, really isn't worth a picture. Trust me; it's made of wood and screen and it has hinges.<br />
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And there was lake swimming. <a href="http://www.newseum.org/exhibits/online/yes-virginia/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Yes, Virginia</a> it was cold.<br />
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The lake is hella high</div>
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And friends and family came and stayed too.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UlqmOorOCsc/W0GY2OM5Q8I/AAAAAAAAFVQ/tlGFRwnTtrAGgq2W8kAW7TxO5bxI2pGpgCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180705_183413888.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UlqmOorOCsc/W0GY2OM5Q8I/AAAAAAAAFVQ/tlGFRwnTtrAGgq2W8kAW7TxO5bxI2pGpgCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_20180705_183413888.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Jen explains, something</div>
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And we (Jen, Scott, and Bob) went for a little (ill-advised) trip in kayaks which was super fun (first half) and super hard (second half) which featured 25 MPH headwinds, whitecaps on the lake, and lots of quitter-talk like, "We should go ashore and walk." The five-mile round trip will now be known as the "Bataan Death Paddle". Apparently when Jen and Scott stopped by the kayak rental place later they told the <strike>stoners</strike> workers at the place that we went to Tahoe City and back they stopped what they were doing and said, "We never recommend that to people who rent kayaks. There is always a strong southwesterly wind at that time of day." Let the record show that it was my ignorance of the winds that led us to this foolishness.</div>
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So that was "arm day". We joked that "leg day" would be next. It was; just later in the day.</div>
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Since I had made Sharon wait patiently about four hours longer than I initially said for me to come back from morning kayaking, I readily agreed to go on a hike that she's been wanting to do for a couple of years; down and back to Vikingsholm by the secret service road. The road is two miles instead of 1 mile for the popular switchback trail but that makes it 1/2 as steep on average. Also, the views of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moraine" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">moraine</a> itself are about as spectacular as the views of Emerald Bay. See for yourself.</div>
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The rock on top is about 15 feet wide.</div>
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Natural rain gutter</div>
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Sugar pine for those of you playing the home game.</div>
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MOAR ROCKS!</div>
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This last picture was so inspiring that Sharon painted it in watercolor today. So cool!</div>
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Tomorrow evening we head back to our regularly scheduled lives, our kitty, and our youngest who has been busy keeping the cat amused. We'll miss it here but we'll be back soon!!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-154762271211323272018-07-03T13:45:00.001-07:002018-07-03T13:45:24.177-07:001+1=Family<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UmRy0KAMzm8/WzvcRsHPeZI/AAAAAAAAFOI/01FdvqJUP2E8-ZoMYvg9JW9MZLzIIGQEwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180630_194431278_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UmRy0KAMzm8/WzvcRsHPeZI/AAAAAAAAFOI/01FdvqJUP2E8-ZoMYvg9JW9MZLzIIGQEwCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_20180630_194431278_HDR.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
On Saturday, my dear Niece Raina married her best friend Matt. Aside from the usual wedding accoutrement, there was family among us. Strong family and friendship ties that give you strength and hope for humanity when you look away from the sometimes dumpster fire world outside.<br />
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After a spot of dinner, I caught this moment with the two mothers behind their beloved children now joined in love and commitment, their shared lives rolled out before them in a multicolor carpet into the future. Now two families are linked here and with any luck we'll meet again before too many moons. (Maybe October)<br />
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Then I grabbed my sister (figuratively) and we went to every table and met as many of the guests as we could, many of them for the (perhaps) last time. Maybe a small gesture, and it easily could have not even happened, but to us it was important to reach across the degrees of separation and connect with them as intimately as possible. Through this I hoped, and I think Sharmaine did too, to form more of a bond and to personally connect them to our family.<br />
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One fellow said, "You're Bob?! With the blog?! Raina told me that I needed to read your blog so I did!" I was really touched. I related the humble pie incident (look it up here on the scroll) to the whole table and we all had a bit of a laugh.<br />
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I'll remember this part of the wedding fondly, connecting to all of the guests and welcoming them.<br />
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Oh, and congratulations you two. Please accept my love into your hearts.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-79787439927494285922015-10-27T21:53:00.002-07:002015-10-27T22:00:11.139-07:00Goodnight, NeffyCats and cut flowers seem to last less long than you think they ought to. Our Neffy (Nefret, really. It's Egyptian for beautiful.) had a tumor in her mouth. It ultimately affected her tongue function enough that she couldn't bathe, or keep from drooling. Yuck. Then she couldn't eat easily, and eventually not at all. And she couldn't drink.<br />
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Sharon made the arrangements with the vet when it became clear that the last corner had been turned.<br />
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The kids all gathered round and said the sweetest loving goodbyes. I was especially proud of my children as they focused their affection on their pet.<br />
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So last Friday, I took Neffy to the vet for the very last time. The vets office team were all well prepared for our very sad morning...<br />
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She doesn't want to get out of the carrier. I tell her she never has to get back into the carrier. She is weak and very clearly near the end of her days catching moths and laying in the sun.<br />
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The table is covered in a fleece cloth with giraffes and other whimsical animals. I muse on the manufacturing process of the cloth; I think it is a dye printer that sprays the pattern on as the cloth rolls by. The edges of the shapes are indistinct, and the edges are unevenly cut off the bolt. It says most of the store name 'Jo Ann's' on the selvedge. It's cut to size for the table. I doubt it will be laundered and used again.<br />
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Neff lays down on her paws on the table as I hold my hand on her for her comfort and mine. The front desk person takes my credit card and has me sign for the bill. Neffy whines a bit but is calm. She'd lost several pounds the preceding week. Her bones poke out alarmingly and she couldn't have tolerated a bath that she really needed badly. Neffy murmurs now and again. The woman returns with the receipt and my card which she places on the cat carrier. I can barely speak. I take a tissue for the tears.<br />
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The doctor enters and explains. First the sedative. Then a few minutes wait. The doctor would excuse herself and return with the technician. Then the shot to stop her heart. The doctor is especially kind and calm. She focuses on me. I sense this is a very hard part of her job. Nevertheless...<br />
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"It's time." To me, in order to reassure me that this is indeed the most humane thing we can do for her. Quiet sweet words are murmured to Neffy.<br />
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"Shall I give her the sedative."<br />
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I nod. Words have left me momentarily except for a cry-choked whisper, "Yes."<br />
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A shot is given with the caution, "Just like a little bee sting."<br />
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The doctor excuses herself. I look into Neffy's eyes to comfort her as consciousness slips away. Two minutes pass as Neffy's head comes to rest on her paws.<br />
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The doctor and technician return. The only thing that catches my eye in the colorless next few minutes is the pet clippers with a yellow plastic part near the blades, and the turquoise nail polish on the technician's short nails.<br />
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"Do you want me to begin?" asks the doctor.<br />
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"Yes, please." I'm calmer but no less sad.<br />
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The tech holds Neffy's back as the doctor easily finds a vein in her back leg. I stand at Neff's head while the doctor is to my left. Neffy is still as the injection is started. I mentally note that the 5cc syringe is full, then empty.<br />
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The doctor moves her right hand to Neffy's chest to feel her heartbeat fade away. In a moment she says, with the slightest surprise, "She's already gone."<br />
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"Do you want us to take her now."<br />
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"Yes, thank you."<br />
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The doctor covers Neffy's body with a tiny blanket very much like the fleece one that covers the table. The technician scoops up the body and the two women leave quietly and close the door behind them.<br />
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I move to the bench holding the cat carrier, my receipt, and credit card. I sit and utter a few quite unmanly sobs. I get another tissue. I carefully replace my credit card in my wallet and fold the receipt to put it in my pocket. I take several minutes to compose myself.<br />
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Picking up the cat carrier, I open the door back to the lobby. I set the carrier on the floor of the adjacent bathroom without turning on the light. I wash my hands to remove the awful smell that has covered whatever Neffy has been touching for the last few weeks. Drying my hands I pick up the carrier, and thank the staff as I open the door to leave.<br />
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I pull to the driveway to exit. A middle-aged pedestrian woman approaches and I back up to clear the sidewalk for her to pass. She smiles and waves to thank me. I have the lucky feeling that I have plenty of time on my hands for that moment.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-25967712972831814372015-10-27T20:28:00.000-07:002015-10-27T20:28:01.457-07:00Old Friends I've Never MetTen years ago when I started typing all of this, I "met" a friend of a friend. She was single, living far away, and a knitter. She grew up in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. She's got a sister Naomi. And by all accounts, she had a great sense of humor. From time to time, racy things were written in public.<br />
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[some years pass]<br />
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She fell in love with a fellow who owns an Elvis jumpsuit. She married, became a step mom and survived a huge storm. There were lots of posts about knitting, Charlie the dog, and even some about a deck. The name of her blog changed, though I can't remember the old name. She's "Kinda Asiany".<br />
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[some more years whip by at a pace best described as "insistent"]<br />
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Then out of the blue tinged pages of a little website called face book came a private message that there was a business conference in the Bay Area where I am and our mutual friend is, and that we were to meet.<br />
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In person. A person whose voice I'd never even heard.<br />
<br />
[some weeks with a blush of anticipation noodle by]<br />
<br />
And I'm seated at a booth in a bar with our mutual friend and her husband, and appetizers were ordered and I had a porter in front of me.<br />
<br />
Then I saw her face and heard her voice for the first time, and there was excitement and a hug and a picture snapped with a phone. Dinner was served. It was casual and relaxed and full of discovery and stories. I talked too much (don't look shocked) and after a fashion, the evening had ended and we hugged goodbye, hopefully to meet again in less than ten years.<br />
<br />
Thanks for stopping by our place here in the metropolis, Grace. You do your name proud.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-68325552416741678142015-10-16T19:22:00.000-07:002015-10-16T19:26:59.655-07:00Ooooooh, ShinySo, I "do" Renaissance Faire. I have a lot of friends who have "done" Renaissance fairs for many years, most of that time in their formative years at a place known as Blackpoint Forest in Novato, a rural and suburban town north of where I live. The devotion to the fair that was held there for many years is very, very deep on the part of hundreds of my friends and acquaintances. Most everything about the place and time holds deep meaning for them, and naturally they feel a lot of passion for it. It's a life-defining phenomenon for many.<br />
<br />
I visited that fair twice or perhaps three times as a patron and as a true insensitive friend, I hold little reverence for the entire Blackpoint phenomenon. On the other hand, there was born an entire hobby world inhabited by thousands of fantastic artists and storytellers and in that whole gamish there was a really cool pewtersmith that made iconic pieces. Many of the old faire folk have them and I've always admired them. The pieces are treasures.<br />
<br />
So about a year ago I got a goblet. It was heavily tarnished and someone had literally used it as a hammer. I used a mallet and wooden block to get it back into shape.<br />
<br />
Then I polished it so it was as bright as you can get pewter. It looks stunning, and it fits my character, the Head of Household for Her Royal Majesty Elizabeth I. Here it is on the kitchen counter right after polishing.<br />
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My friends who are Blackpoint old guard have commented, "YOU POLISHED IT!?!" because, at least to some of them, it's a revered relic. To me it's a a costume piece.</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-86316535142995298602015-10-11T21:26:00.001-07:002015-10-11T21:26:30.764-07:00Weight Weight, Don't Tell Me!A few months ago the doctor told me, (I'm paraphrasing) "You're fat and you snore." I think his bedside manner was a lot better than that but the message was that for my own good, less was more. He recommended a couple of free apps for my phone; My Fitness Pal, and Google Fit. I can extend his recommendation to any of you who want to ditch a few pounds.<br />
<br />
So the snoring (which is always abnormal, as the sleep doctor told me) is made worse by the excess weight. So if I actually lose enough, maybe I won't have to sleep with a CPAP machine.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OlXt74Hz_7g/Vhs0qiaO6JI/AAAAAAAAEB0/stmw9zrL4oE/s1600/funny-Alien-free-hugs-sign1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OlXt74Hz_7g/Vhs0qiaO6JI/AAAAAAAAEB0/stmw9zrL4oE/s320/funny-Alien-free-hugs-sign1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
And on the weighty subject it would appear that I am down about 17 pounds from where I started. My pants are loose. I have five or ten more to go which may put me in smaller pants but maybe no CPAP.<br />
<br />
We'll see.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-654922647479704902015-10-09T20:37:00.003-07:002015-10-09T20:37:41.963-07:00And as I was sayingIn which we breathe life into an old paper bag that used to hold cheap Halloween candy.<br />
<br />
Looking at the dates over there, it's been awhile since I've been here to confessional. So, and knowing full well I have used this writer's device before, let's recap.<br />
<br />
This isn't about the news. It's about what's in my mind. Let me assure you that you, gentle reader, nor anyone else will ever fully know what's on my mind. You will know what I can put into words, and what my physical actions can say about me, but in my mind - and I suppose yours too - lives a maelstrom of thoughts so complex and intricate that they will never really come out or be fully understood. Even when I am at my most focused and eloquent, I cannot force out that much of all of the things that are happening in my mind. I have always experienced my consciousness in this way, at least as well as I can remember. I can only imagine it is the same for most everyone; science help us if I'm wrong.<br />
<br />
So in that vein I want to try to share with you some - but certainly not all - of my thoughts. Kinda one at a time but bear with me on the thoughts that are like conjoined twins.<br />
<br />
I started this blog in 2005 because it seemed like a cool thing to do and a friend of mine who wrote well had one. I wanted to emulate her so I started writing it on a lark. Not an actual lark; it was actually on a computer - larks fly off. I found that I really liked writing so I kept at it. Writing is creative and if you are an attention whore like I am and you are good at writing, people who like your creativity in writing give you attention.<br />
<br />
So 10+ years along, I'm still an attention whore. I am getting better at it, which may be helpful for the planet or not. It's fun. Please leave lots of comments, which are the gold coins of attention whoredom.<br />
<br />
Usually at this point in the post, I forget what I was writing at the top of the post. The Blogger interface has improved so I can see more of it. That's a relief. I don't understand how people can just tweet 140 characters. I'm witty, but not that witty. And I have poor memory for a lot of things like events, and dates, and chronology, and I forget what else.<br />
<br />
Because the post to this point has no actual content, I'd better get on with actually saying something(s). Let's start with government or religion or something else light.<br />
<br />
Like cancer. Our white cat has cancer. There's a tumor under her tongue which is mechanically interfering with the function of her tongue. If you have a cat you can probably guess how important having a tongue is to a cat. It's basically the index finger they do everything with, most importantly for her human <strike>slaves</strike> masters, bathe themselves. If your index finger was your only means of bathing and you ate by plunging your hairy face into stinky cat food, and your index finger was sprained, let's just say, you would stink. Like cat food, and drool (the doctor's report calls it "hypersalivation") that you can't lick back into your misshapen mouth. That had got stuck in your fur. And kinda dry-rotted.<br />
<br />
No problemo, just bathe the cat yourself. Daily. Cats LOVE baths. They love them so much that during the bath they may begin to sing the songs of their people and bury their claw in your index finger. Needless to say there are towels all over our furniture so that the aroma does not embed itself in the fabric like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vn8mfg_oEz4" target="_blank">Bernard Shaw in Baghdad</a>.<br />
<br />
I really like being naked. I wish it was more socially acceptable. #random<br />
<br />
What the hell is wrong with the ultra-right faction of the GOP? Do they actually want to govern for the betterment of all of the people or are they just so mad about [insert something here] that they have just become lost in some permanent tantrum? And all of this trash talk about "taking back our country"; who the actual fuck are they taking it back from.<br />
<br />
And religion, generally, is just fine. It gives you comfort or a sense of [insert something here]. Cool. It makes you feel good about you and your fellow humans, or maybe understand and forgive them in some way that makes sense in your mind. Wonderful.<br />
<br />
What about all of the killing, and the "Nuh uh! You can't live like that, freak!" and "You have to obey 'my rules' that me and my friends say are 'God's law'!" What the hell are you on about people?!? I have tons of great friends who are religious and they never come and tell me that my atheist 'soul' is going to burn in Hell, or that I am somehow subhuman, or that I can't even be around them and not pray while they pray. I never hear that they are coming to kill me with Kalashnikovs. What makes some people murder and destroy civilization because of differences about creation myths, or how to pray? I must be too dense to get this.<br />
<br />
I'm going to stop writing now so you can get on with the comments, AKA: Gold Coins of Attention Whoredomâ„¢.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-19044173702740892442014-01-04T21:59:00.001-08:002014-01-04T22:03:57.431-08:00My greatest giftsIn which I reflect upon the season...<br />
<br />
It is will a sense of fulfillment and grace that I sit down with keys at my fingertips to relate to you the content of my thoughts today. This holiday season falling fast away from us has brought me many joyous moments, most of them brief and sweet and some that have stayed with me for many days. I only hope that my modest skill as a writer can fully convey my message of joy to you.<br />
<br />
As I predicted in my last missive, the Dickens Fair was over in a flash, even though it was five weekends of ten-hour days. This season went very well for me in that I was able, at last, to truly imagine what my character, Mr Brownlow, is all about. I could wax on for paragraphs but allow me to sum it up by saying that, Brownlow is a heroic man who goes against the grain of the society that he is at the top of, in order to rescue a defenseless beggar child from a life of vice and infamy, and in doing so his actions precipitate the destruction of a criminal gang, the death of a villain, and the complete repudiation of a host of characters that have equated the boy with human garbage.<br />
<br />
With this in mind, Brownlow came alive for me, and his righteousness fueled the passion that was needed for him to take control and effect the salvation of Oliver Twist. The scenes that I played in came into focus and for the first time, I was able to convey Brownlow's full dignity and indignation. From the perspective of the onlooking audience I can only assume that it was more engaging; there were more people watching in the streets and they stayed to see the whole scene.<br />
<br />
In changing my approach to my daily routine, I made new friends at Dickens Fair this year in several serendipitous happenstances, and for that I am grateful. At one moment, I was walking back to my backstage area and the pianist from Mad Sal's recognized me because I had spent more time there this year. He invited me to the first annual meeting of the Mutton Chop Society which was an opportunity for a few of us fellows with mutton chops to get together for a photo. While waiting together with my fellow Society members, we chatted and I got to know two fellows who I had only known as their characters at a great distance. One of them is a Technical Director working on the upcoming Star Wars movies, and the other is an artist that creates those amazingly cool signs at Trader Joe's. In both cases the work is fascinating to me. I hope that these friendships continue to enrich my life, and on that hope I plan to invest in them.<br />
<br />
Seemingly just moments after Dickens started, it was two weeks in and it was my birthday. Everyone jokes with me that the best part of my birthday is the annual bare-breasted rendition of Happy Birthday sung to me by the female cast of the Naughty French Postcards cast. I look forward to that, and it was fun, but it pales in comparison to my real birthday treat. On the day, my children gathered at our family home and we all went to dinner as a nuclear family. At the table we all showed each other love and respect as we shared our meal. My family; Sharon, Jessamy, Andy, and Danny are in fact my greatest source of love and affirmation bar none. We really do love and respect each other in a way that I have observed is not universal in families. I cannot be more grateful for this condition and I take great pride in having played a part in bringing it about.<br />
<br />
In another few weeks, Dickens was over again, disappearing like Brigadoon for another year. After three sleeps, it was Christmas morning which arrived clear and quiet. With no sense of urgency whatsoever, we gathered again as a family to rejoice and share our gifts with each other. I got some great gifts, but once again, none of them compares to the love that I feel in the exchange of that which we picked out for each other. For me, that moment when your loved one opens what you hope is just the right thing, is the magic of Christmas. It is deeply satisfying even though I am a hopelessly lousy shopper.<br />
<br />
The very next day we were joined by our dear friend Amy and her love Brian so they could spend a few days with us and accompany us across the state to our home away from home at Lake Tahoe. We got there after a leisurely day and proceeded to clean up after the construction of a new bathroom and remodeling of the other two. Everyone pitched in and we made a lot of progress in just a few hours. The stay of three days was enough for us to complete all our finishing decorating, cleaning, and preparing tasks, and Amy was able to show Brian some beautiful California scenery. Our place in Tahoe is a great pleasure to me. We searched for so very long, found a place that was so in need, and made a wonderful transformation that is universally admired by our guests and neighbors too. It is a very relaxing place to retreat to, even when there is work to do.<br />
<br />
At the very close of the year, we opened our home to quite a few friends both close and casual. It was indeed a wonderful party. Our good friends Peggy and Michael became engaged just at Midnight, and a good time was had by all. We sang Auld Lang Syne to remember the friends we'd said goodbye to over the year, and we even had flaming rum punch. There were some puzzles worked, a few games played, festive beverages, and a lot of hot water. When the last person left, it was 3:30 PM on New Year's Day. If anyone tells you that we throw boring parties, they are pulling your leg. We were delighted to host such a rousing crowd and it pleased me to have so much merry made.<br />
<br />
I want to make special note of the greatest gift of all that I received this season; the love of my friends, family, and especially of Sharon. In countless ways, she expresses her love to me. Every time I am reminded of her love, I am touched and humbled. I don't make a big show of it, but it makes a huge difference to me every day. I hope each and every one of you have someone that makes you feel the same way.<br />
<br />
Thank you for reading all this way. May the peace of this season be with you until the days grow short and the weather cold once more.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-81542782702709798842013-11-20T20:13:00.000-08:002013-11-20T20:36:49.883-08:00Months with wingsAt times, life seems to plod along. Then it's Friday and you wonder how the week passed so quickly, or how last month passed so quickly. The season waxes and wanes and the days grow short. It's that weekend to change the clocks, then it's dark when the workaday merry-go-round goes silent and still.<br />
<br />
Your birthday passes, then hers, and his, and theirs too and then it's time to get up early on the weekends, teach a class, hug everyone in sight, try to stay well and to remember your lines. It's Dickens Fair season with a vengeance. Popups, and sleepovers, and cues, schedules and pocket watches. Why don't my pants fit any more? I suppose I really do have to re-sole these shoes.<br />
<br />
Five weekends will blow passed in an instant, as viewed from the final evening anyway. Enjoy every minute is the mantra. It will be nearly January of my 54th year before I see my house in sunlight again.<br />
<br />
Life, and months fly by on wings of memories. Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-393238389697796992013-09-05T22:37:00.000-07:002013-09-05T22:37:05.978-07:00I was busyHave you had periods where you got so busy that you stopped doing things you loved and you fell into a routine of just getting by on enough rest and enough leisure to stay sane. So did I, for about the last three months or maybe a bit more.<br />
<br />
The busy was from work where we (the company I work for) were in the final stages of a large (16,000 square feet) and expensive (past $1,000,000) first floor renovation and facility move. Naturally, since I am the only one capable of this at work, I got to run the whole damn project for about 18 months and I had the responsibility of designing the space as well - down to the carpet colors and the locations of all the furniture.<br />
<br />
It was a HUGE undertaking and as it was, along with my regular duties, an enormous load.<br />
<br />
But now we're moved in. The punchlist is complete. The final billing reconciliation has been approved. There is still organizing work to be done, but it's really truly done. And it's quite impressive. Come by for lunch and you can have a peek.<br />
<br />
I hope to write more.<br />
<br />
Except there is a similar project to re-fit the upstairs of the building. And I'm in charge of that too.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-1133825679336439562013-05-18T20:53:00.000-07:002013-05-18T20:53:31.983-07:00Try as hard as you cantry as hard as you can<br />
<br />
to make what you have last a lifetime<br />
to make the best from everything available to you<br />
to leave behind diamonds in your wake<br />
<br />
move mountains for the ones you love<br />
for the right reasons<br />
to honor yourself<br />
<br />
live each moment in truth to yourself<br />
in glory<br />
in peace<br />
<br />
spare no chance to show your love<br />
to serve those around you<br />
to appreciate what you have<br />
<br />
wake every day knowing that you are loved<br />
and wanted<br />
and needed<br />
<br />
go to sleep with peaceful thought<br />
with thankfulness<br />
with confidence<br />
<br />
your tomorrow is made today<br />
your life is made in the present<br />
take the greatest care in what you makeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-36884623134309143432013-05-18T20:47:00.001-07:002013-05-18T20:47:07.825-07:00God is a memeAs you can see from the sidebar, I'm an atheist. I have my thoughts on religion and the practice of religious thought, and they may not be what you think. As they say, it's complicated.<br />
<br />
A god is, as near as I can tell, a mental construct peculiar to people. An organizing principle. There doesn't appear to be any testable evidence of the physical presence (reality) of any gods. On this point, my rational mind says, "There are no existing gods of any description, nor were there at any time in the past." Now, I fully understand that a very substantial majority of people are quite certain that not only IS/ARE there a god(s), but that the god(s) they believe to exist is/are THE god(s) and that those other people are WRONG.<br />
<br />
I don't begrudge the religious their beliefs. Religion brings joy and solace to many. It is an organizing method and a way of communicating and celebrating shared values that are often positive. I do, however see it as an unfortunate reality that so many people allow their beliefs to function as a reason to wreak psychological havoc.<br />
<br />
The organizations of religion trouble me the most. The concentration of moral judgement in the hands of a few people who answer to no one is a fundamental flaw, in my view, especially when these people use their moral judgements to "justify" oppression, homicide, and endless war.<br />
<br />
This situation will continue well past my demise. I accept it, but I regret what I regard as the colossal loss to humanity.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-90558896953159868722013-05-18T20:10:00.003-07:002013-05-18T20:12:08.633-07:00And tonight we rest quietlyAt once, my mind is filled with so many thoughts. It's always this way. I have a thousand things on my mind at all times (OK, maybe just like 20 in the foreground) and they all seem simultaneously important and trivial.<br />
<br />
What would jaw surgery entail, visually?<br />
That friend of mine has foibles, but I ignore the foibles.<br />
I need to start this project - where is the pattern?<br />
I saw many friends today, I wish I was closer to them.<br />
The children I know all seem to be growing up, but unevenly so.<br />
Work is interesting and fantastically detailed - but mostly just to me.<br />
I met someone today and failed to show much interest in them. In retrospect it seems rude of me but I was just feeling shy.<br />
I thought of a great porn title; The King's Peach<br />
"She had a voice like a copper violin." (This ersatz Sam Spade quote dropped into my head, at random today.)<br />
<br />
Etc.<br />
<br />
I could tell you so much but I have so little to say today.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-81912897879692009592013-04-15T22:37:00.001-07:002013-04-15T22:41:04.160-07:00BoomToday's news reminds me that the world contains plenty of people that really fail to understand why we are here. We aren't here to kill each other for some crazed reason. We are here to help each other get though our lives, with as much happiness and success as each of us are able to muster. Nothing more, nothing less.<br />
<br />
To help you get an idea of the sorts of things you should be doing for the people of the planet have a look. Maybe you should <a href="http://www.upi.com/Health_News/2013/04/15/US-scientists-build-artificial-kidneys/UPI-31371366077188/" target="_blank">work on creating a way that people with failing kidneys can lead a more comfortable life</a>, or maybe just live.<br />
<br />
Or you could help <a href="http://arstechnica.com/science/2013/04/how-nasa-brought-the-monstrous-f-1-moon-rocket-back-to-life/" target="_blank">recreate some of the technical marvels of the recent past</a> that helped us imagine our proper place in the universe.<br />
<br />
Or you could simply <a href="http://www.guildofstgeorge.com/" target="_blank">love something you do that brings people joy and pour your heart and soul into it</a>, letting them see an up close view of a world that we long left behind.<br />
<br />
Maybe you could create <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2BqLlVHlWA" target="_blank">a musical work that speaks of a love</a> that transcends space.<br />
<br />
Killing each other, blowing people up, maiming people... That's not why we're here.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-85056095160759216452013-03-10T21:15:00.001-07:002013-03-10T21:15:31.818-07:00In which I lose my hearingAbout two weeks ago, I awoke to a lot of pain in my ear. I thought to myself, "That's very painful. I'll call the doctor." I called and waited for the nice doctor to suppose that I had an ear infection that followed along after the cold I was getting over. "Take ibuprofen and call your primary in the morning."<br />
<br />
At 7 AM sharp, I called and got an appointment for later in the day. Sure enough, I have a middle ear infection, or Otitis Media. I also had a load of icky, colored stuff in my outer ear - notably with plenty of black in it. Got that all cleaned up. Over to the pharmacy I go to get the antibiotics. "This will be over soon." I think to myself as I go back to work and take a big pill.<br />
<br />
The ear still hurts, though not as much. Nighttime, another pill. Morning, another one. 48 hours later, all symptoms are about the same. Back to the primary, except he's out so I see a different fellow.<br />
<br />
Another exam and a different antibiotic, and some drops that contain a steroid to help reduce the inflammation. This was taking advantage of the perforation (hole) in the tympanic membrane, which was news to me.<br />
<img alt="http://www.virtualmedicalcentre.com/uploads/VMC/TreatmentImages/2191_ear_anatomy_450.jpg" class="decoded" src="http://www.virtualmedicalcentre.com/uploads/VMC/TreatmentImages/2191_ear_anatomy_450.jpg" /><br />
At this point, we need a diagram.<br />
<br />
Remember that the outer ear is open to the air, and the middle is open to your throat via the Eustachean tube, and the middle is filled with fluid inside the cochlea. Tiny hairs inside the cochlea and semicircular canals are connected to nerves that tell the brain which way the head is positioned, whether it's moving and in what direction, and whether the stapes is vibrating against the little window (covered by a delicate membrane) that separates the inside of the cochlea from the middle ear. That vibration, is the result of the ear drum (the tympanic membrane) pressing on the malleus bone, which pivots where it's attached and presses on the incus bone which pivots, and then presses on the stapes bone, which is connected to the incus by a tiny bit of cartilage.<br />
<br />
That's how it works in a healthy ear. In my ear - remember, this blog is all about me - the middle ear is inflamed and filled with goo (I imagine) that dampens the vibration of the tympanic membrane and the three wee bones.<br />
<br />
Now 72 hours after I started the second antibiotic and kept instilling those drops, I was sure I should have been lots better.<br />
<br />
HAH!<br />
<br />
It's Monday morning. Still in a fair amount of pain, hearing getting poor on that side. So I called the primary and they got me a referral to the ENT, or Ear Nose & Throat specialist, though when you get to the office it's called Ontology. So the doctor takes one look in my ear and says, "You have a bad fungal infection." (Remember that black stuff?) The doctor whizzes out my ear with holy water or something and a teeny tiny vacuum. Now I can hear better!<br />
<br />
"I'm going to apply this antifungal cream." GLOOOP, and now my ear is full of cream with fungicide and my hearing goes to about zero percent in that ear. "Come back on Friday." He says in my good ear, and then he puts a cotton ball into what's left of the outer ear canal. Now all I can hear when I speak is my voice conducted though my skull in that ear, and it getting normally to the other ear. It's weird and disorienting.<br />
<br />
Back at work I have a week filled with meetings, troubleshooting of problems with a completely out of control product line that I inherited from a recently terminated manager, and a million-dollar building expansion project. I can't hear normally, what I can hear is distorted and confusing, and the continuation of the second course of antibiotics gives me tummy trouble and makes me itch badly enough to seek over-the-phone doctor advice and take Benadryl, which knocks me the fuck out.<br />
<br />
Friday comes. All week I have waited for the return visit to the Ontological doctor who filled my ear with goop. I think the goop is all still there and continuing to cause my temporary half-deafness. At 4 on Friday relief will come and I will be able to hear again!<br />
<br />
HAH!<br />
<br />
The good doctor looks in my ear and tells me that MOST of the fungus is gone and he's going to clean up the rest. The teeny tiny vacuum is once again employed for a vigorous Hoovering of the outer ear. More inspection with a magnifier... "You still have a perforation." and "I'm sorry to make you deaf again." GLOOOOP. This should all be normal again by Monday. Not so bad, I can take it easy this weekend.<br />
<br />
About 10 PM, my ear is hurting a lot and I decide it's time to sleep it off. Fitfully, I make it through the night. I'm miserable. My ear seems to be DRAINING stuff. Not to be too gross (thanks for reading this far) but it's pink and tan. I call up the doctor's answering service so they can call me back. (I've lost count by now.) I talk to a doctor after some time. I'm asked to go to Urgent Care because it's Saturday.<br />
<br />
The doctor (this is the fourth I've seen in person) looks closely at my ear, hears my whole saga, apologizes a lot, goes off to talk to the Head Ontologist via phone, and returns to explain. She calls me a gentleman in the second person. Thanks.<br />
<br />
Apparently, I still have a middle ear infection. I have a third round of antibiotics (day 2 of at least 5). Yesterday and this morning, it was still draining through the perforation in the eardrum. DRIP. Yummy. Tonight, it's stopped doing that, but the hearing is still way off in that ear.<br />
<br />
I've always had good hearing, at least until last week. I never really experienced what it's like to not really be able to hear. It's disorienting, confusing, and humbling. I feel isolated and embarrassed that I can't really hear. I never understood what the hearing impaired go through. Now I do; at least a little.<br />
<br />
In a few days this will all clear up. I won't soon forget it. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-24380491799355274562013-01-27T19:48:00.002-08:002013-01-27T19:48:50.525-08:00ObservationsOur kitchen range (that would be "stove" for people who don't live in woodburning land) got old and we had to put it out to pasture. In it's place there is a shiny convection-oven five-burner thingy. There was some obligatory grumbling due to the gas inlet location but after a bit of impassioned male grunting I got it installed. Now we can bake bacon in about 1/2 the time. That's hot.<br />
<br />
Our house is well past voting age and there is a pipe that runs about 60 feet from the garage to where the main drain plumbing assembly is back near the bathrooms. This 2" pipe ends at about 18" up and takes a turn down and enters the rest of the drain. I know the rest of you with an engineering background are starting to think about slope and flow rate... Let me assure you that there is too little of both for anything more than plain water. Any wee scraps of food or lint from the washer turn to cement in the line and it stops draining. It likes to do this every couple of months.<br />
<br />
Usually these backups happen when we have guests, or when it's late at night, or cold, or whenever it's most inconvenient. Being as handy as I am, I have always resolved the issue myself. Let me assure you (once again) gentle readers that this is uniformly a Very Icky(TM) process with the junk that comes out of the pipe. It does not lift ones soul.<br />
<br />
So this last time, after making a horrible smelly mess for two hours and not resolving the problem, I called in a professional. Actually I called two of them. The first one to come and unclog the drain (which was done rapidly and without a mess for well under a C note), and the second to give me an estimate on replacing the 63 year old pipe that doesn't slope enough with a slick new one that is pitched more. We'll hear on Monday or so how much they'll want for that. Don't tell them in advance that I'm pretty much gonna pay whatever they want.<br />
<br />
On the way back from buying the stove, Sharon and I saw a fellow dressed in a white suit, with white shoes, carrying a white briefcase, wearing five-foot long angel wings - feathers and everything - just walking down the sidewalk in Belmont as if he was on the way to the drugstore or something. We asked each other if we had really seen that, then wondered if it was worth turning around for to take a picture. It almost was.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-12279094351410713762012-12-14T21:17:00.001-08:002012-12-14T21:31:21.026-08:00Bang; you're dead.I heard the somber music and the unrehearsed tones of the commentator on the radio when I went to go to the bank before lunch. It must be very bad, I thought. Then the story spooled out. More than 20 dead, lots of dead children. Shooter dead. I had to turn it off. I played some 40+ year-old music. When I came out to the car from the bank, the commentators were still at it. I turned it off again.<br />
<br />
I imagined the horror of the parents on hearing the news without knowing whether their child was dead. I imagined the horror of the adults at the school on seeing the dead children. I imagined the unimaginable horror of the children while they were getting gunned down. I imagined the unthinkable and life-altering conversations that the parents of the surviving children will have with their children who don't actually know what happened.<br />
<br />
I tried and failed to imagine how anyone could stand in front of a classroom of eight and nine year-olds and shoot them.<br />
<br />
When I got home and read the thoughtless things that people said in the aftermath, I felt sorry. Sorry for us as a civilization that we simply throw up our hands and say that nothing could have prevented this, that this is "not as bad as (fill in the blank)", that a solution is not even worth trying to discuss, let alone implement.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-70579738708300908132012-12-11T22:39:00.003-08:002012-12-11T22:39:56.684-08:00Happy BirthdayNow I'm a day older than yesterday, but because today is my birthday, somehow that makes me a whole year older in just one day. It's weird.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-34951690558099218092012-11-22T11:31:00.001-08:002012-11-22T11:31:42.354-08:00Thanksgiving DayAs today is Thanksgiving, I want to take a few moments to reflect "aloud" on what I have to be thankful for. I'll try to leave out the mundane stuff so you can get back to what you were doing.<br />
<br />
Life - It isn't permanent so I'll be thankful while I can.<br />
Sharon - She has made my life so rich.<br />
Jessamy - So tiny at first, and now so grown up.<br />
Andy - An amazing man who has taught me so many things.<br />
Danny - Never far from playful imagination.<br />
My home - It keeps me warm, dry and safe.<br />
<br />
My family - I am just a leaf of an awesome tree; it's complexity awes me. <br />
My friends - You are legion and you form my social world. I am never lonely.<br />
<br />
Cashews - The perfect nut.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-61187619558259840902012-11-09T20:17:00.000-08:002012-11-09T20:17:14.037-08:00I'm gonna blogI said I'd post today even though I *just* posted yesterday. So I posted.<br />
<br />
My friends on FB nearly came to keyboard blows over the whole election thing. I told them that they were real civil to hold it down and not get all e'splody on us.<br />
<br />
To my conservative friends: I'm sorry about your inevitable disappointment. I'm not sorry that the ideas on governance espoused by your standard bearer were rejected, and in all but one of the "swing" states. 320 electoral votes literally means that those ideas were broadly rejected. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-55416401692597102372012-11-08T22:52:00.001-08:002012-11-08T23:41:29.858-08:00In which I sayI may never make it to 1000 posts, but I'll keep working at it. Today, since I've been saving up loads of topics and thoughts, I may pile on a bit. I hope you'll understand. Bless me readers, for I have not penned; it has been five weeks since my last confession.<br />
<br />
The Great Dickens Christmas Fair and Holiday Party is on us again. The other day I was trying to figure out how many years I've been at this but the closest I got was ten or eleven. Or maybe nine. I went back and looked at a lot of pictures and tried to figure out from the date stamps and what I was wearing. All my life, I have been terrible at remembering chronology and dates, and how long blah blah blah. If any of you faithful readers really know when I started, please let me know. The winner gets to sit in my hot tub.<br />
<br />
Speaking of boobs, during the naughty french postcards auditions, several of my female cast-mates had whipped out their boobs for the audition pictures (like we all do) and more than ever it was just like they were exposing their elbows, only far smoother and with nipples. Maybe it's just like they say, "It's just boobs, meh." It was actually something of a relief not to be so damn thrilled to be seeing naked boobs that I couldn't carry on a rational conversation. Also, my friend Kurt never seems to wear underpants. I could have gone at least several more hours without witnessing The Spectacle(TM). <br />
<br />
And how about our national spectator sport, voting. It would seem that nowhere near all of us that are eligible actually participate in government by the people, for the people. It seems so many have decided, in a practical sense that their participation isn't worth it. I say, "VOTE like your life depended on it!" because in a sense it really does.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9NqIUewKhD4/UJyicjqqXOI/AAAAAAAAD68/Irdj_n6twV0/s1600/2012_Win_s.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="186" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9NqIUewKhD4/UJyicjqqXOI/AAAAAAAAD68/Irdj_n6twV0/s320/2012_Win_s.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not nearly as close as the RWEC thought. Also +29 for FLA when they finally get their third-world voting act together, the n00bs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Regarding the outcomes, I was pretty pleased that the electorate collectively rejected so much Bad Crap. Let's make a list of Bad Crap, shall we:<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<b>Stupid Ideas That Should Never Be Spoken Of Again</b> </h3>
<ul>
<li>Spending nearly infinite sums of money to get a few thousand people who already made up their mind to change their mind is a winning strategy.</li>
<li>Rape really isn't that bad, and it doesn't cause pregnancy, or if it does, it's a gift from a deity.</li>
<li>Gays have second class relationships because they are second class.</li>
<li>Binders full of women!</li>
<li>Muslim Kenyan Socialists!</li>
<li>Trickle down economics - SO EFFECTIVE!! <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(do not pay any attention to the contrary data)</span></li>
<li>Karl Rove (holy shit, that dude has some explaining to do)</li>
<li>Corporations are people, my friend</li>
<li>Abortion is our nation's biggest problem</li>
<li>"Contraception" is Kenyan for "Destroying religious freedom!"</li>
<li>Job creators just need some more money</li>
<li>MOAR KILLING MACHINES</li>
<li>Benghazi was a partisan failure</li>
<li>Sheldon Adelson and The Fabulous Koch Brothers!</li>
<li>"Our number one legislative priority is making Obama a one-term president."</li>
<li>Newt!</li>
<li>Vote suppression is patriotic! </li>
<li>FOX</li>
<li>Etch-a-Sketch!! </li>
<li>The Tea Party </li>
<li>The Right-Wing Echo Chamber.</li>
<li>I'm sure I'm forgetting a lot here. </li>
</ul>
Math is real. When the pollsters did their work, and the data was analyzed scientifically, the outcome of the election was accurately predicted. I can only hope that in the next cycle, the GOP does not delude itself so much. It makes us all look like idiots.<br />
<br />
Hmmmm. Two more of my good friends at work are leaving. There is <b><i><u>a lot</u></i></b> of opportunity for me at work but at the same time, there has been a lot of change. So many people that I liked and respected have moved on. There is a lot of growth on the horizon, but there is also a lot of much-larger-company culture <strike>trickling</strike> flowing in. I can't complain about the commute or the compensation, but what is important and what the people are like has changed a lot in my tenure, several times actually. Luckily, I have a high tolerance for change.<br />
<br />
Apparently, I snore. Also, I tend to hear song lyrics in most everything people say. Oh, and boobs.<br />
<br />
I *promise* I'll post tomorrow.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-11452383882240652342012-10-03T23:10:00.001-07:002012-10-03T23:10:09.609-07:00It writes itselfWhen I sit down to write (like 'write' now) I often have no idea what I'm going to say. I try to surprise myself. A friend of mine asked for a story idea. Here's what I said.<br />
<br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][2][1]{comment4622160314127_5473108}..[1]..[1]..[0].[2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][2][1]{comment4622160314127_5473108}..[1]..[1]..[0].[2]."><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][2][1]{comment4622160314127_5473108}..[1]..[1]..[0].[2]..[0]"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][2][1]{comment4622160314127_5473108}..[1]..[1]..[0].[2]..[0].[0]">A
man awakes to find his wife and children have been replaced with others
who know him, but he doesn't know them. When he looks in the mirror,
he doesn't recognize himself. He pu</span></span><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][2][1]{comment4622160314127_5473108}..[1]..[1]..[0].[2]..[3]"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][2][1]{comment4622160314127_5473108}..[1]..[1]..[0].[2]..[3]."><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][2][1]{comment4622160314127_5473108}..[1]..[1]..[0].[2]..[3]..[0]">shes
through this and gets in his unrecognizable car which he is oddly
certain is his. He starts out to work and drives aimlessly to a place,
parks and goes in. Everyone knows him. He walks to an office, sits
down and logs into the computer with a guessed password. He starts
reading email and making up replies. A meeting notice comes up, and he
goes to the meeting full of strangers that know him. At the end of the
day he retraces his path to "home", has dinner with his "family", makes
love to his "wife", and goes to sleep. In the morning, he wakes up and
is greeted by a whole new family, wife, house, car, job, and guessed
password.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][2][1]{comment4622160314127_5473108}..[1]..[1]..[0].[2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][2][1]{comment4622160314127_5473108}..[1]..[1]..[0].[2]."><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][2][1]{comment4622160314127_5473108}..[1]..[1]..[0].[2]..[3]"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][2][1]{comment4622160314127_5473108}..[1]..[1]..[0].[2]..[3]."><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][2][1]{comment4622160314127_5473108}..[1]..[1]..[0].[2]..[3]..[0]">I thought it was kinda fun. </span></span></span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-76744356159524082222012-06-23T18:43:00.001-07:002012-06-23T18:43:14.448-07:00Once again, with feelingsWelcome back, gentle readers. I hope you enjoyed the <strike>period in which I slacked off and failed to write anything</strike> break. I want to tell you about a friend of mine, and reflect on my thoughts following her death.<br />
<br />
In one's life you have many opportunities, 25,550 days worth if you live to 70, to make a difference in people's lives. To enrich your friends, to help and inspire, to give and receive love. To help others with their money, help them to learn, to bring beauty into their life.<br />
<br />
I have the pleasure, or perhaps treasure, of knowing quite a few people who really matter to me, and who matter to a lot of others too. I hope that I matter to a lot of others as well. You get a finite chance to matter. I hope that by the time my time is up, that I have brought as much joy, shared as much love, and inspired people as much as my friend Surrey.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aMmEO92KMds/T-Zrr-wv8kI/AAAAAAAAD6c/sBM4rBnsHL4/s1600/P1020651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aMmEO92KMds/T-Zrr-wv8kI/AAAAAAAAD6c/sBM4rBnsHL4/s320/P1020651.JPG" width="241" /></a></div>
Many thanks to my friend Dave who took this sweet picture of Surrey and Gregor.<br />
<br />
Surrey had an amazing life (to me it was) which started out in World War II in England and ended just a few weeks ago in sunny California. She was an artist, a writer, a mother, a bank manager, a teacher, and many other things. Above all else, she was a doer - she shrank from nothing and stopped at nothing to make her dreams come true and to give to others. In the process, she made a palpable difference to so many of us that it was standing room only at her memorial today in a very large school auditorium.<br />
<br />
My dear friend Gregor spoke lovingly of his wife, not of how he missed her, but of what allowed her to cut through the noise and get things done and make a difference. She had seen violent death up close at an early age and she knew what mattered, and she felt the naked urgency of mortal life. She knew deep down that she, like all of us, didn't have all the time in the world and that if she was going to make a difference she had better set aside her fears (if she had any) and get started and never stop. Her daughter told us how even as she was near death in hospice, she was remarking on and caring about the hospice workers and their acting troupe - and that she was writing all of this down to express it because she couldn't speak for the oxygen mask she was wearing.<br />
<br />
Take the time to make a difference; to love, to appreciate, to create joy and beauty. Appreciate what you have and the richness of your life and your friends. Set aside your fears and take the risks that are the bridges to your dreams. Do this for your friends and loved ones. Do this for yourself. Don't wait.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-31872923243043761702012-03-26T21:34:00.002-07:002012-03-26T21:34:19.706-07:00Taking a night offThose of you who are feeling well can rest easy in the notion that when you get up in the morning to go to work, or to look for work, or just go fishing, that your throat probably won't feel lousy when you get underway. Tonight, I'm taking it easy (almost indistinguishable from my usual routine) in order to stave off feeling bleagh.<br />
<br />
But I posted anyway.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11449418.post-84502040840629677422012-03-14T22:24:00.001-07:002012-03-14T22:24:09.386-07:00No taxation without administrationTaxes are complicated, no matter what they tell you. If you run a wee business from your house, or if you finally scrape up enough dough and elbow grease to get a place in the woods that you can rent out, you can be sure that you will be soon digging for the numerical answers to numerous inquiries so you can enter them in the magical software that makes sense of all of it, does all the math, and checks your work.<br />
<br />
I don't mind paying as much as I mind filing.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12478537552467138310noreply@blogger.com2