I can't figure out if I've really been that busy or if I have a mental block against posting...or if there's just so many ideas running around in my ADHD-addled brain that I can't figure out what I want to post on. If I posted on every little idea that staggers along, there'd be a kabillion and one little, disjointed posts. I have a notebook with me, but usually when I'm thinking about such things, I can't write...you know, potty breaks, on the bus, etc. (I can't read, write, crochet, or use the computer in a moving vehicle or I get seasick).
Recently I've had posts in mind about obesity, politics, religion...huh...what else is new...but also my house, products, decorating, sewing, etc, etc. *sighs* I guess if I can't actually DO those things, I can waste time writing about them eh?
In tech news, Microsoft has done some king of weird merge with Instant Messenger (IM) and all your social media. The result...crap. I use my Hotmail account for two things (well, three, if you count IM): Facebook and for those things online where you don't want to put your REAL email account. I don't want it, or FB connecting to everything else I have. It's not that I have anything to hide, per se, but there are elements of my life I'd just really not like terribly public, you know? FB is my public face. I have friends who are co-workers, students in our department, relatives, friends who are not necessarily in my "inner circle," as it were, and I'd rather the two worlds not collide. although a couple of my close family read this site, I'd really like to keep the rest of the fambly blissfully ignorant of it. R says-re work and the 'net--to get ready for the "cloud." WTF-ever the "cloud" is. I neither want nor need my life clouded, thank you very much. There is a sufficient number of people, were they to stumble across this site and read it, who could quite handily figure out who I am. That's fine, I have no problem with that, but I don't want to advertise.
I have an LJ account and I've not posted out there in ages. Every once in a blue moon, I go out and catch up on everyone's posts (I have about 6 or 7 friends there), but haven't felt compelled to post. I've even been half-tempted to delete my FB account recently, after a mutual FB/LJ friend (and a very close personal friend) posted that some of her FB friends should "shut [our] cakeholes" in response to a comment on FB, and a vicious attack by a guy I went to HS with. (Did you know, all you liberals, that we're un-American, stupid, ignorant, uneducated morons? Makes me wonder how the hell I graduated from one of the top universities in this country in a fairly difficult degree, with a high GPA and how I got the job I have, with the military, no less...dang...I'm such an un-American moron. Ppfftt)
The cakehole thing is a perfect example of the anonymity of the internet. While this friend might have gotten testy with me in person for saying something (and trust me, it really wasn't that bad), she never would have gone off on anyone the way she did on the 'net. (To put my feelings in perspective, she said several people had made comments, but as far as I could see, I was the only one.) Perhaps I'm overreacting; it has been known to happen and I will admit the post was not directed at me personally, but I still was hurt.
(For the record, I find the terms "piehole" and "cakehole" to be extremely rude and offensive, so perhaps that added to the overall feeling of hurtness. Dunno. They're just words I never use, kind of like "scumbag," or "douchebag." Just.plain.rude.)
I find, in general, that we say things--well type them--behind the shield of the 'net that we would never, ever in a million years say person to person. Makes me wonder if WWIII will be caused by two or three heads of state going at each other via e-mail some day.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010
And then again...
I had some brilliant discussion going in my head (I won't tell you where I was, but I've heard it said 'tis the seat of all brilliant thought) and had no paper suitable for writing, so of course, now hours later, I can't recall it. Something to do with questioning the authority of That Book.
There are many misbeliefs concerning religion, spirituality, and religion vs. spirituality. The best definition I heard--I'd credit it, but I can't remember where I read it, although I'm pretty sure it was Dianne Sylvan's preliminary intro for her maybe new non-fic work, but she's taken the link down, so I can't check it--is that religion is public, what you do in a group, it's the trappings, the ritual, the building (if any), codified thought, etc. Whereas spirituality is private, between you and your deity(ies). It could, therefore, be argued that an Atheist has a religion: public "averrance" (is that a word? Apparently, a lot of people think so on the 'nets, but in fact, it's not) that there is no god, goddess, higher being, deity, divine one, insert euphemism of your choice, and that by the very nature of that faith, there can be no spiritual side to Atheism. On the other hand, I suppose it could follow that spiritually, the Atheist believes there's no god, that is his/her personal belief and because there is no god, there cannot be a religion because there's no church, no dogma, ritual or buildings....except that they DO have dogma, trappings, a library...so it fits the requirements of a religion.
I have no issues with Atheism, it's as valid a belief system as any out there. And just as filled with misinformation, hatred, and misunderstanding as the next set of beliefs. I think the funniest thing I've seen on their "official" site is "religion is ridiculous." *snorts* Well...you've just said your belief system is ridiculous. Like it or not, if you believe "religion" is a belief system, then Atheism does in fact fall into the category of religion, although etymologically, I'm incorrect. I will continue to think of a faith in the absence of [euphemism of choice] and the public trappings of that faith constitute a religion, a religion without spirituality.
It would be amusing, if it weren't so scary, to watch the two sides, the RTCs* and the Atheists slug it out, metaphorically speaking of course. And...the RTCs wouldn't be alone. There would be the RTMs, the RTJs, the RTPs** to name a few, all against the Atheists, and then when the As had been suitably reprogrammed, the RTXs would start on each other. I think we Pagans would just kind of roll our eyes at all of them and hare off to the woods to have a bit of fun, letting everyone else self-destruct.
Ah, such fancies I amuse myself with. Where was I? Oh yes, That Book. I don't knock That Book (TB), it has some rather worthwhile things in it, neither do I think it's a record of who hung the moon and stars...well, perhaps Who, but not how. I do not see TB as the be-all, end-all, definitive authority on AEU*** Objectively, how can it be? I mean really, if the RTCs would get their collective heads out of their collective asses, they'd realize this. Hey, far be it from me to try and convince them...as long as they return the favor. I think that's my take on almost all religions. As long as you aren't sacrificing small children or animals, do whatever the fargle you want to do, just don't try to push your twaddle off on me. If I'm...whoa...I just had a lightbulb moment...If I'm destined to be one with X-faith, I will find it. Someone correct me, but I believe that the Xtians are the only religious bunch who proselytize...everyone else takes the stand that you can come seek us out. Pagans don't, Muslims don't, I know Baha'i don't... Jews don't, neither do Hindus, Buddhists... The lunatic fringe groups don't count, btw...being lunatic fringe by definition requires you to seek out adherents and then suck them in by whatever means. I would list those I consider dangles in that fringe, but lunatic trolls are not my faves.
As you can tell, none of this is very intellectual, or researched; really more just ramblings about the absurdities in the world. Why is religion so important? Why have so many died in the name of religion, yet we keep coming back to it? I can't dismiss the idea of the Whole being greater that the sum of its parts. The Divine is that which ever was, is, and ever will be....everything, every neutrino, atom, molecule, person, place, or thing. Throughout the Universe, not just in our tiny speck of a galaxy, let alone this microscopic rock we tenuously hold onto. That solidarity makes me connected to the RTCs, the As, the Agnostics, the lunatic fringe...the whole lot of them, here and on planet Xenon. My atoms are filled with the Energy that became the Universe, whether you believe it just banged into existence, was created in six days by a curious Old Man with a Beard, or carefully orchestrated into a dynamic,self-supporting mystery by a Source so unimaginably vast that the Universe just giggles every time we state "By God! This is the Way It Happened!"
*Real True Christians as out-lined in Slacktivist.
**Muslims, Jews, and Pagans, respectively (pardon me while I omit the other 90 kabillion recognized faiths of the world)
***Absolutely Everything in the Universe
There are many misbeliefs concerning religion, spirituality, and religion vs. spirituality. The best definition I heard--I'd credit it, but I can't remember where I read it, although I'm pretty sure it was Dianne Sylvan's preliminary intro for her maybe new non-fic work, but she's taken the link down, so I can't check it--is that religion is public, what you do in a group, it's the trappings, the ritual, the building (if any), codified thought, etc. Whereas spirituality is private, between you and your deity(ies). It could, therefore, be argued that an Atheist has a religion: public "averrance" (is that a word? Apparently, a lot of people think so on the 'nets, but in fact, it's not) that there is no god, goddess, higher being, deity, divine one, insert euphemism of your choice, and that by the very nature of that faith, there can be no spiritual side to Atheism. On the other hand, I suppose it could follow that spiritually, the Atheist believes there's no god, that is his/her personal belief and because there is no god, there cannot be a religion because there's no church, no dogma, ritual or buildings....except that they DO have dogma, trappings, a library...so it fits the requirements of a religion.
I have no issues with Atheism, it's as valid a belief system as any out there. And just as filled with misinformation, hatred, and misunderstanding as the next set of beliefs. I think the funniest thing I've seen on their "official" site is "religion is ridiculous." *snorts* Well...you've just said your belief system is ridiculous. Like it or not, if you believe "religion" is a belief system, then Atheism does in fact fall into the category of religion, although etymologically, I'm incorrect. I will continue to think of a faith in the absence of [euphemism of choice] and the public trappings of that faith constitute a religion, a religion without spirituality.
It would be amusing, if it weren't so scary, to watch the two sides, the RTCs* and the Atheists slug it out, metaphorically speaking of course. And...the RTCs wouldn't be alone. There would be the RTMs, the RTJs, the RTPs** to name a few, all against the Atheists, and then when the As had been suitably reprogrammed, the RTXs would start on each other. I think we Pagans would just kind of roll our eyes at all of them and hare off to the woods to have a bit of fun, letting everyone else self-destruct.
Ah, such fancies I amuse myself with. Where was I? Oh yes, That Book. I don't knock That Book (TB), it has some rather worthwhile things in it, neither do I think it's a record of who hung the moon and stars...well, perhaps Who, but not how. I do not see TB as the be-all, end-all, definitive authority on AEU*** Objectively, how can it be? I mean really, if the RTCs would get their collective heads out of their collective asses, they'd realize this. Hey, far be it from me to try and convince them...as long as they return the favor. I think that's my take on almost all religions. As long as you aren't sacrificing small children or animals, do whatever the fargle you want to do, just don't try to push your twaddle off on me. If I'm...whoa...I just had a lightbulb moment...If I'm destined to be one with X-faith, I will find it. Someone correct me, but I believe that the Xtians are the only religious bunch who proselytize...everyone else takes the stand that you can come seek us out. Pagans don't, Muslims don't, I know Baha'i don't... Jews don't, neither do Hindus, Buddhists... The lunatic fringe groups don't count, btw...being lunatic fringe by definition requires you to seek out adherents and then suck them in by whatever means. I would list those I consider dangles in that fringe, but lunatic trolls are not my faves.
As you can tell, none of this is very intellectual, or researched; really more just ramblings about the absurdities in the world. Why is religion so important? Why have so many died in the name of religion, yet we keep coming back to it? I can't dismiss the idea of the Whole being greater that the sum of its parts. The Divine is that which ever was, is, and ever will be....everything, every neutrino, atom, molecule, person, place, or thing. Throughout the Universe, not just in our tiny speck of a galaxy, let alone this microscopic rock we tenuously hold onto. That solidarity makes me connected to the RTCs, the As, the Agnostics, the lunatic fringe...the whole lot of them, here and on planet Xenon. My atoms are filled with the Energy that became the Universe, whether you believe it just banged into existence, was created in six days by a curious Old Man with a Beard, or carefully orchestrated into a dynamic,self-supporting mystery by a Source so unimaginably vast that the Universe just giggles every time we state "By God! This is the Way It Happened!"
*Real True Christians as out-lined in Slacktivist.
**Muslims, Jews, and Pagans, respectively (pardon me while I omit the other 90 kabillion recognized faiths of the world)
***Absolutely Everything in the Universe
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Where does it go, this time....under the carpet?
I've been thinking, oh, it's just been a week or two since I posted...and yet the comments are off on my last post, which means that it's been over a month. Yes, indeedy, over 30 days, y'all. I'm a slacker of the nth degree.
Of course one might assume that slacking in posting means righteous activity in other areas.
*long blink*
One might assume many things. I would be the last person to stop you.
I've been playing mostly computer games and re-reading Harry Potter from the beginning. I have the first five books in the UK version and I need to order the last two to complete my set. At some point, I'd like to the get the first five in hardback, too. I prefer the UK versions, even though they end up costing me a bit more--pounds to dollars and shipping; I order them from Amazon.uk. Here's your Brit-slang trivia quiz for today. What are the following things called in the US: Skip, Alice band, fringe, pudding.*
I've actually had a number of things I wanted to write about, but at 1:40 AM after having spent hours reading the comments on one of Slacktivist's posts, I'm a bit ragged 'round the edges and can't remember what I had for breakfast, let alone what I wanted to write about all week. I suppose I really should take to carrying a small spiral and pen with me everywhere...I have these ideas, super ideas...and then POOF! Artichokes.
This, then, is a kind of placeholder...I know, I know, I said the same thing over a month ago, but I will try to do better. Right now it's almost 2 in the morning (dang you, Fred and the fredbots!) and my artichokes are tired!
*A dumpster, head band, bangs, and dessert. :)
Of course one might assume that slacking in posting means righteous activity in other areas.
*long blink*
One might assume many things. I would be the last person to stop you.
I've been playing mostly computer games and re-reading Harry Potter from the beginning. I have the first five books in the UK version and I need to order the last two to complete my set. At some point, I'd like to the get the first five in hardback, too. I prefer the UK versions, even though they end up costing me a bit more--pounds to dollars and shipping; I order them from Amazon.uk. Here's your Brit-slang trivia quiz for today. What are the following things called in the US: Skip, Alice band, fringe, pudding.*
I've actually had a number of things I wanted to write about, but at 1:40 AM after having spent hours reading the comments on one of Slacktivist's posts, I'm a bit ragged 'round the edges and can't remember what I had for breakfast, let alone what I wanted to write about all week. I suppose I really should take to carrying a small spiral and pen with me everywhere...I have these ideas, super ideas...and then POOF! Artichokes.
This, then, is a kind of placeholder...I know, I know, I said the same thing over a month ago, but I will try to do better. Right now it's almost 2 in the morning (dang you, Fred and the fredbots!) and my artichokes are tired!
*A dumpster, head band, bangs, and dessert. :)
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Moved....
In case you haven't figured it out...all .02 of you who might, just might look at this blog...it's not active any longer (no...really?). I've moved. If I want you to find me, you have my new website. Ciao.
Yawn....
I've been very much neglecting my website. I suppose other "bloggers" have this problem. Do you ever have one of those periods where there's a lot going on, but either you don't really feel like putting it all into words and/or you feel if you did, it would just seem, I don't know...kind of meh...? I suppose that's a form of writer's block, eh?
There's also this: I just don't seem to get anywhere. One of my friends just cooks along on her projects, and I go to blogs where people are doing cool things and their houses look so awesome...and mine is still craptastic. I have no time, no energy, and no money. I walk into a room, filled with ideas and take one look at the clutter and the dust and say fuck it and walk out to go read or play on the computer. I just don't know where to start. My place has become like one of those little puzzles you had as a kid--usually numbers, but sometimes a US flag or other picture--where you had to move all the little tiles to make the picture. You'd get one part of it done and realize you had to back-track and move all those pieces aside just to get the corner in. That's my house. I look at one project and realize the huge number of things that have to be done before I can even start. Fooey.
Anyway, that's not the big news this week. Everything's kind of been put on back burners. More on that later...just wanted to let my adoring fans (all two of them, both related to me no doubt) that I hadn't fallen off the edge of the world. (That got me to thinking if the tea baggers and the flat earthers and the birthers all got together...oh, wait, they're all pretty much one and the same, aren't they? Never mind....)
'Til tomorrow, little buckaroos.
There's also this: I just don't seem to get anywhere. One of my friends just cooks along on her projects, and I go to blogs where people are doing cool things and their houses look so awesome...and mine is still craptastic. I have no time, no energy, and no money. I walk into a room, filled with ideas and take one look at the clutter and the dust and say fuck it and walk out to go read or play on the computer. I just don't know where to start. My place has become like one of those little puzzles you had as a kid--usually numbers, but sometimes a US flag or other picture--where you had to move all the little tiles to make the picture. You'd get one part of it done and realize you had to back-track and move all those pieces aside just to get the corner in. That's my house. I look at one project and realize the huge number of things that have to be done before I can even start. Fooey.
Anyway, that's not the big news this week. Everything's kind of been put on back burners. More on that later...just wanted to let my adoring fans (all two of them, both related to me no doubt) that I hadn't fallen off the edge of the world. (That got me to thinking if the tea baggers and the flat earthers and the birthers all got together...oh, wait, they're all pretty much one and the same, aren't they? Never mind....)
'Til tomorrow, little buckaroos.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Digging around, planning, thinking...
First off, I'd like to say how disappointed I was to find that this lady is no longer keeping this blog smoke and ochre. Rats. There are so many nice, nice pictures and all on it. But, you know...a kabillion, bazillion, and 93 blogs on the intarwebs and so little time.
Now that the energy devil is not sucking my aura away every day, I'm finding I have enough get up and go to get a few things done. After we decommissioned the old building on Friday, I skated. R had the day off (LBJ's birthday, doncha know), so he took me to work, went home, slept in, then came and picked me up. We didn't do much..picked up Taco Bell and came home. I crashed at some point and foo...what did we do Friday evening. I don't even remember....OH! Crap, of course! Sylvan's party! Oy, such a knucklehead I am. Her first novel is coming out, officially on Tuesday! I've read the first...second?...draft, but changes were made after it went to the publisher...anyhoo, her BFF, the self-same Laura of Pushing Furniture fame, threw a surprise party. R, W, and I went. It was fun, and we totally surprised Ms. Author. :D
Then we came home and I was kind of sick at 4 AM. Nauseous...and for awhile didn't know which, erm...end....would be a problem (hoping that it wouldn't be one of those, ah...double-ended things. I HATE that). But as soon as I "went," the nausea went away and I was able to go back to sleep. Got up about 9:40 yesterday and spent a good bit of the day washing dishes and general clean-up, then went to Lowe's and Tar-Jay. Spent way more money than I should have. Dammit. But I had most of the $50 GC Laura's BF gave me for my birthday left. I bought a composter thingy. Now to get it set up. I had made a really cool FREE composter out of hardware cloth and a hula-hoop, but the dog can knock it over too easily to eat the scraps and eggshells. I'll use that for grass and weeds before adding to the bin.Dorky dog. I got some plastic potted plant pans, a nifty cobalt blue glass mister (on clearance for $1.62!), and some hose parts to repair hoses. At Target, I got some groceries, another pair of black leggings, and a few items of make-up. Yeah, make-up. Gotta problem with that? ;)
I also picked up a metric-ass-ton of paint chips at Lowe's and then sat on my bed and played with kitchen design until two AM!
One of the reasons I never get anywhere is...well, it's a many-layered thing...like an ogre. It is my decorating ogre. I can't make up my mind...then I have no money...and I change my mind...things go out of style...I have no money....I get more craptastic hand-me-down furniture that needs "fixing" (refinishing, etc.) and just looks like early Salvation Army meanwhile....then I change my mind...and I can't decide on a color scheme...ad nauseum.
I've gone from warm, earthy tones in the great room to working off the grey and charcoal palette in a print I have, back to the warmer tones. I want a mind of Mexican feel to the kitchen and since the two rooms are, um...rather linked, to suddenly go to greys and blues would be weird. Also? I have this olive fabric, like 22 yards of it, for a slipcover for the sofa, and it wasn't fitting in with the greys in my mind. Well, it would, but there are tones of blue, charcoal and a deep, deep red-brown in the painting. I dunno, it might still work. Otherwise, I'm not sure what to do with that piece. Feh.
So anyway, here's the latest grouping, sort of, of colors. It seems a bit washed out on my monitor. paint link
There'll be more of this, but I started this post three days ago, so I'm posting now.
Now that the energy devil is not sucking my aura away every day, I'm finding I have enough get up and go to get a few things done. After we decommissioned the old building on Friday, I skated. R had the day off (LBJ's birthday, doncha know), so he took me to work, went home, slept in, then came and picked me up. We didn't do much..picked up Taco Bell and came home. I crashed at some point and foo...what did we do Friday evening. I don't even remember....OH! Crap, of course! Sylvan's party! Oy, such a knucklehead I am. Her first novel is coming out, officially on Tuesday! I've read the first...second?...draft, but changes were made after it went to the publisher...anyhoo, her BFF, the self-same Laura of Pushing Furniture fame, threw a surprise party. R, W, and I went. It was fun, and we totally surprised Ms. Author. :D
Then we came home and I was kind of sick at 4 AM. Nauseous...and for awhile didn't know which, erm...end....would be a problem (hoping that it wouldn't be one of those, ah...double-ended things. I HATE that). But as soon as I "went," the nausea went away and I was able to go back to sleep. Got up about 9:40 yesterday and spent a good bit of the day washing dishes and general clean-up, then went to Lowe's and Tar-Jay. Spent way more money than I should have. Dammit. But I had most of the $50 GC Laura's BF gave me for my birthday left. I bought a composter thingy. Now to get it set up. I had made a really cool FREE composter out of hardware cloth and a hula-hoop, but the dog can knock it over too easily to eat the scraps and eggshells. I'll use that for grass and weeds before adding to the bin.Dorky dog. I got some plastic potted plant pans, a nifty cobalt blue glass mister (on clearance for $1.62!), and some hose parts to repair hoses. At Target, I got some groceries, another pair of black leggings, and a few items of make-up. Yeah, make-up. Gotta problem with that? ;)
I also picked up a metric-ass-ton of paint chips at Lowe's and then sat on my bed and played with kitchen design until two AM!
One of the reasons I never get anywhere is...well, it's a many-layered thing...like an ogre. It is my decorating ogre. I can't make up my mind...then I have no money...and I change my mind...things go out of style...I have no money....I get more craptastic hand-me-down furniture that needs "fixing" (refinishing, etc.) and just looks like early Salvation Army meanwhile....then I change my mind...and I can't decide on a color scheme...ad nauseum.
I've gone from warm, earthy tones in the great room to working off the grey and charcoal palette in a print I have, back to the warmer tones. I want a mind of Mexican feel to the kitchen and since the two rooms are, um...rather linked, to suddenly go to greys and blues would be weird. Also? I have this olive fabric, like 22 yards of it, for a slipcover for the sofa, and it wasn't fitting in with the greys in my mind. Well, it would, but there are tones of blue, charcoal and a deep, deep red-brown in the painting. I dunno, it might still work. Otherwise, I'm not sure what to do with that piece. Feh.
So anyway, here's the latest grouping, sort of, of colors. It seems a bit washed out on my monitor. paint link
There'll be more of this, but I started this post three days ago, so I'm posting now.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
On again, off again..
I was doing quite well last week, with the blogging. And then it all went pear-shaped, as they say.
I did actually make some progress with "things" over the weekend, but you know...two steps forward, 19 back...and here I am again. Still with mounds of clean clothes to be folded and put away; I'd done all the dishes and spiffed up the counters, and there it is all to do again. Damned dishes...what is it with having to be washed every day? I mean, really? And then I tried to do myself in this morning.
This cat, Valentino, who is very prone to urinary issues, has decided that even the soft wheat cat litter is not to his liking, so he's been peeing on the garage floor next to the box, instead of in the box. *headdesk* So, this morning, he'd done it again, so I grabbed what I thought was the hydrogen-peroxide kitty destinkum gallon jug. The stuff foamed up like it was supposed to and it usually has an odor, so I wasn't too horribly concerned over the odd smell and the burning, tingling eye-thing.
Do you know what the major ingredient in urine is? That's right, Baby Bop, it's ammonia!
Do you know what was in the white gallon jug? That's RIGHT, chlorine bleach!
Now...who knows what happens when you mix chlorine and ammonia?
Are we going to read the label first from now on? You betcha, Red Rider!
I did actually make some progress with "things" over the weekend, but you know...two steps forward, 19 back...and here I am again. Still with mounds of clean clothes to be folded and put away; I'd done all the dishes and spiffed up the counters, and there it is all to do again. Damned dishes...what is it with having to be washed every day? I mean, really? And then I tried to do myself in this morning.
I go now?
This cat, Valentino, who is very prone to urinary issues, has decided that even the soft wheat cat litter is not to his liking, so he's been peeing on the garage floor next to the box, instead of in the box. *headdesk* So, this morning, he'd done it again, so I grabbed what I thought was the hydrogen-peroxide kitty destinkum gallon jug. The stuff foamed up like it was supposed to and it usually has an odor, so I wasn't too horribly concerned over the odd smell and the burning, tingling eye-thing.
Do you know what the major ingredient in urine is? That's right, Baby Bop, it's ammonia!
Do you know what was in the white gallon jug? That's RIGHT, chlorine bleach!
Now...who knows what happens when you mix chlorine and ammonia?
Are we going to read the label first from now on? You betcha, Red Rider!
Monday, August 16, 2010
I'm about to state the obvious, so please don't choke on the olive in your martini when you snort at me. There are a kabillion, bazillion, and 93 bloggers out there. The intarwebs is full of the varmints. Some are good, some are precious, some funny, some oh.my.god.I.really.don't.give.a.flying.foo.what.your.son.had.for.breakfast.woman (especially if it's the same damned thing he's had every day for a week). People who merely recount their boring lives (raises hand) are really just journaling online. Like me, I doubt they really expect much of a following.
I could certainly put my blog out there more; give it excerpts for people to google, paste it in comment forms more, add ads to it. But I really don't want to. I've given the URL to a select few and if I get a few readers, cool. I really do doubt I'll have more than a few friends and family reading. And that's fine.
Part of it is that my blog is not really a blog...it's more of a virtual tour of my disjointed mind. A lot of blogs have a theme, or a specific subject. There are totally insane people out there who have a design blog, a gardening blog, a wine blog, a dating blog, AND a personal one.... And they're all perfect, and the author is gorgeous and went to some blue chip school and has perfect kids--or perfect animals and has decided not to spawn. They decorate with a lot of white and use words like smoky texture to describe wine...and/or cheese. Just how does one evaluate smoky texture? Do you smell it with your fingers? Or rub your nose on it? Dunno about you, but that confuses me.
Know what also confuses me? How some people have time to read 90 blogs in a day. Good googly moogly, folks...do you ever do anything? Two of my best friends blog fairly regularly (thank goddess it's not everyday!) and I barely have time to keep up with them. (And I have to admit, I have not followed all of Sylvan's recent posts on 30 books in 30 days..., sorry sweetie). I check FB every couple of days and Live Journal almost every day, but some bloggers have a list as long as my arm of pages they're following. Do they actually read all those? Or did they read a post or two and decide to put them in their blogroll just in case they were stuck up a tree one day and had nothing to do (and happened to have an iPhone or netbook with them)?
Here's an example. This lady is gorgeous and has bought and renovated a dozen houses...and she's only 30. Talk about making an old lady feel like a loser! But you know...by some standards I might not be all that successful, but then I think what I do. I help shape tomorrow's leaders...officers who will be making big decisions one day. I have colonels taking my advice (and even a general or two over the years!). My pay sucks pond water, but what I do is important, and people respect me. I had my time of being a gorgeous 30-something, and while I wish to hell I hadn't let my body go, I'm still a beautiful person. Even when I'm chewing you out. And? I know the difference between a smell/taste and a touch sensation. Really, I do.
I could certainly put my blog out there more; give it excerpts for people to google, paste it in comment forms more, add ads to it. But I really don't want to. I've given the URL to a select few and if I get a few readers, cool. I really do doubt I'll have more than a few friends and family reading. And that's fine.
Part of it is that my blog is not really a blog...it's more of a virtual tour of my disjointed mind. A lot of blogs have a theme, or a specific subject. There are totally insane people out there who have a design blog, a gardening blog, a wine blog, a dating blog, AND a personal one.... And they're all perfect, and the author is gorgeous and went to some blue chip school and has perfect kids--or perfect animals and has decided not to spawn. They decorate with a lot of white and use words like smoky texture to describe wine...and/or cheese. Just how does one evaluate smoky texture? Do you smell it with your fingers? Or rub your nose on it? Dunno about you, but that confuses me.
Know what also confuses me? How some people have time to read 90 blogs in a day. Good googly moogly, folks...do you ever do anything? Two of my best friends blog fairly regularly (thank goddess it's not everyday!) and I barely have time to keep up with them. (And I have to admit, I have not followed all of Sylvan's recent posts on 30 books in 30 days..., sorry sweetie). I check FB every couple of days and Live Journal almost every day, but some bloggers have a list as long as my arm of pages they're following. Do they actually read all those? Or did they read a post or two and decide to put them in their blogroll just in case they were stuck up a tree one day and had nothing to do (and happened to have an iPhone or netbook with them)?
Here's an example. This lady is gorgeous and has bought and renovated a dozen houses...and she's only 30. Talk about making an old lady feel like a loser! But you know...by some standards I might not be all that successful, but then I think what I do. I help shape tomorrow's leaders...officers who will be making big decisions one day. I have colonels taking my advice (and even a general or two over the years!). My pay sucks pond water, but what I do is important, and people respect me. I had my time of being a gorgeous 30-something, and while I wish to hell I hadn't let my body go, I'm still a beautiful person. Even when I'm chewing you out. And? I know the difference between a smell/taste and a touch sensation. Really, I do.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Pain, Crabs, and Assorted Crap (from my Live Journal)
lj-music: Shuuush of the dryer
My hands have been killing me lately…sometimes making me yelp in the middle of conversations…just deep aching, in the big thumb muscle, the joints and the bones between the joints. And the left hand is numb on top of it all. I have so much to do and no one else to do it. And before you ask, no it’s not carpal tunnel. It’s arthritis and the numbness is due to thoracic outlet syndrome. I’ve had arthroscopy on both shoulders and I don’t get the numbness in the right side nearly as bad as in the left. But the pain…in the hands and shoulders, and the grip weakness…oh.my.goddess. Anyway…not sure there’s much I can do about it. My take home pay is going down because UT’s not giving raises* but our insurance premiums are going up. At the same time the deductibles and out of pocket cap are going up…so I’m paying out the fucking wazoo for insurance I can’t use. Nice. Goddamned Republicans. GOP=Grand Obstructionist Party.
Several years ago, one of the NCOs at work had gotten her son a pair of hermit crabs.
He wouldn’t take care of them, so she gave them to me. The poor things were in the little clear plastic Kritter Keeper they came in, with an inch of *growls* aquarium gravel, and she was giving them TAP water. GAH! So I did a bunch of research and spent about a 100 bucks getting a crabitat set up. Little guys were most appreciative and showed me by almost immediately moulting. The bigger one moulted several times and then went down and didn’t come up. Spikey had “disrobed” over the tank heater and dried out. So he’s buried with Caldwell, the Betta Fish, under the Texas Mountain Laurel in the front yard. So…that left Tiny, who is now way bigger than the larger one was when we got them (he was itty bitty at first, hence the name).
I’ve been keeping Tiny in a Kritter Keeper, with the proper bedding, water, and a sheet of cling wrap to hold in the humidity, so he’s doing okay. But hermies are social critters. He needs friends. So I’m going to get one or two more crabs and set the terrarium back up. Scorpionis (Thank you!!) gave me another 10-gallon tank. I have this little wooden typing table—so very, very ubiquitous at UT. I think the furniture shop must’ve made a kabillion of them over the years. I took it and peeled the fake wood Formica off the top and painted it. It’s kind of a pale yellowish now, but I think some nice dark green or blue will be a better color for a crabitat. One tank on top and one underneath, then get some of this…
…which is 4” in diameter (it’ll take the crabbies a long time to get too big to get through it)
and connect them…like this
And see if hermies like crabitrails…hee hee hee
I started this post on Friday and now can’t remember what the “associated crap” was. *facepalm*
*We are getting a one-time 2% payment, not a raise. It’ll be in time for Yule and for me, after taxes, etc. will be about $450…better than a sharp stick in the eye, and just in time for presents, but geeze…really?
My hands have been killing me lately…sometimes making me yelp in the middle of conversations…just deep aching, in the big thumb muscle, the joints and the bones between the joints. And the left hand is numb on top of it all. I have so much to do and no one else to do it. And before you ask, no it’s not carpal tunnel. It’s arthritis and the numbness is due to thoracic outlet syndrome. I’ve had arthroscopy on both shoulders and I don’t get the numbness in the right side nearly as bad as in the left. But the pain…in the hands and shoulders, and the grip weakness…oh.my.goddess. Anyway…not sure there’s much I can do about it. My take home pay is going down because UT’s not giving raises* but our insurance premiums are going up. At the same time the deductibles and out of pocket cap are going up…so I’m paying out the fucking wazoo for insurance I can’t use. Nice. Goddamned Republicans. GOP=Grand Obstructionist Party.
Several years ago, one of the NCOs at work had gotten her son a pair of hermit crabs.
He wouldn’t take care of them, so she gave them to me. The poor things were in the little clear plastic Kritter Keeper they came in, with an inch of *growls* aquarium gravel, and she was giving them TAP water. GAH! So I did a bunch of research and spent about a 100 bucks getting a crabitat set up. Little guys were most appreciative and showed me by almost immediately moulting. The bigger one moulted several times and then went down and didn’t come up. Spikey had “disrobed” over the tank heater and dried out. So he’s buried with Caldwell, the Betta Fish, under the Texas Mountain Laurel in the front yard. So…that left Tiny, who is now way bigger than the larger one was when we got them (he was itty bitty at first, hence the name).
I’ve been keeping Tiny in a Kritter Keeper, with the proper bedding, water, and a sheet of cling wrap to hold in the humidity, so he’s doing okay. But hermies are social critters. He needs friends. So I’m going to get one or two more crabs and set the terrarium back up. Scorpionis (Thank you!!) gave me another 10-gallon tank. I have this little wooden typing table—so very, very ubiquitous at UT. I think the furniture shop must’ve made a kabillion of them over the years. I took it and peeled the fake wood Formica off the top and painted it. It’s kind of a pale yellowish now, but I think some nice dark green or blue will be a better color for a crabitat. One tank on top and one underneath, then get some of this…
…which is 4” in diameter (it’ll take the crabbies a long time to get too big to get through it)
and connect them…like this
And see if hermies like crabitrails…hee hee hee
I started this post on Friday and now can’t remember what the “associated crap” was. *facepalm*
*We are getting a one-time 2% payment, not a raise. It’ll be in time for Yule and for me, after taxes, etc. will be about $450…better than a sharp stick in the eye, and just in time for presents, but geeze…really?
Things needing done around the house
Each one of these is a project--and a story--unto itself, and will engender a list, or lists, of its own.
- Repair pavilion
- Sort, organize,purge bedroom and closet
- Build my bed
- Build outdoor cat run
- Build and install catwalks, hidey-holes
- Tear down roof over back deck
- Demolish existing deck
- Build new deck cover, screened in
- New deck..patio...?
- Landscape front yard
- Landscape back yard
- Repair drain in hall bath
- Replace tub, surround in hall bath
- Floor in hall bath
- Repair or replace dryer....or put up permanent clotheslines?
- Replace garage door
- Build kitty loo
- Finish sewing/craft/studio/office...room...space
- R's bedroom...paint, floors, etc.
- Kitchen...OMG.
- New curtains in bedroom
- Rework wall'o'books in living room
- Finish purple desk
- Finish washstand
- Finish "buffet" chest for kitchen
- China cabinet project
- Dining room table and chairs
- What to do with family antique chairs?
- Table for deck/patio
- Coffee table madness
- Slipcover for couch and Loveseat
- Paint and attach plant platform to top of dog crate
- Crabitat project
- Tame the jungle in the kitchen
- Finish building R's chair (I've only had the wood--already cut into the proper pieces--for 11 years...ELEVEN)
- Put a coat of wax on Big Dot's bookcase
- New colors for bedroom?
- Scrape that GOD-AWFUL popcorn texture off the ceilings. Can you believe my Auntie J LIKES that shit? I'm thinking of sending it all to her in a box when I'm done. When they remodeled the house they're in now, she asked for that crap, on purpose, and had sparkles added.... >.< This is a woman with exquisite taste in everything...except, apparently, ceilings.
The Daily Bull 8/15/10
Was supposed to Had told bossman I would go in and finish the library this weekend. Just don't have the energy, thank you very much. My house, never in the best shape to begin with, has REALLY been suffering from my lack of energy and being in such pain when I get home (damned move). Now that things are settling down a bit a work, I might be able to muster up enough steam to get my kitchen back in order. It's amazing how quickly R & W can mess it up. You know...if they paid for that talent...
In other news, R has been commenting a lot on some website about smart phones or something. First he won a mouse, then a keyboard, then a $100 GC from Amazon, then another one... Then this past week, they emailed him and invited him to take part in some conference or other in Bellvue, WA. All expense-paid weekend AND he comes home with a prototype Win 7 phone. How fleeping cool is that? Finally, his writing starts to pay off! *gigglesnort* ETA: and then he won another $100 GC after all that!
Figured out how much money I had left. If I don't pay one bill (a certain credit card that's now really past due) I can get us by with cheap bread, bologna, beans, tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches...with the odd potato something thrown in. Going in to start a pot of beans in a minute and will make some kind of bread to supplement.
It's just so bloody hot out. The A/C struggles to keep up and if you go outside, your core heats up and it takes forever to cool off. I hate the heat; why am I in Texas? Why?
Half an hour..then I can go turn on the sprinkler in my front yard.
Classic scene this AM...letting Abby out...she dashes in her run, bounding six feet in the air, chasing the birds out of her territory. LMAO. They love the seeds in the overgrown wild sunflower jungle out there. I cut one down...with a tree saw! it was easily ten feet or more (I couldn't tell because it had fallen over) and the stalk was almost as big around as my chubby wrist. I think I will pull them up next year and plant more sedate hybrids in a controlled area. Geesh.
In other news, R has been commenting a lot on some website about smart phones or something. First he won a mouse, then a keyboard, then a $100 GC from Amazon, then another one... Then this past week, they emailed him and invited him to take part in some conference or other in Bellvue, WA. All expense-paid weekend AND he comes home with a prototype Win 7 phone. How fleeping cool is that? Finally, his writing starts to pay off! *gigglesnort* ETA: and then he won another $100 GC after all that!
Figured out how much money I had left. If I don't pay one bill (a certain credit card that's now really past due) I can get us by with cheap bread, bologna, beans, tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches...with the odd potato something thrown in. Going in to start a pot of beans in a minute and will make some kind of bread to supplement.
It's just so bloody hot out. The A/C struggles to keep up and if you go outside, your core heats up and it takes forever to cool off. I hate the heat; why am I in Texas? Why?
Half an hour..then I can go turn on the sprinkler in my front yard.
Classic scene this AM...letting Abby out...she dashes in her run, bounding six feet in the air, chasing the birds out of her territory. LMAO. They love the seeds in the overgrown wild sunflower jungle out there. I cut one down...with a tree saw! it was easily ten feet or more (I couldn't tell because it had fallen over) and the stalk was almost as big around as my chubby wrist. I think I will pull them up next year and plant more sedate hybrids in a controlled area. Geesh.
Week in Review...I hope to be the first of many
August...what the heck is the date? 8-14, 2010.
Now you get to be bored silly by what happened this week.
Continuing the settling in at work. My boss, goddess love him, is a big dork. He's one of the smartest men I've ever known personally, and does not miss a thing. He's all Air Force and everything he does is for the cadets or the AF. The move team should count its lucky stars they had him at the helm instead of some of the others we've had ...or someone like his counterparts in the other two departments (one in particular, but we won't go there, since this is a public forum, so to speak). We have this model F-22 Raptor on a stick...it replaced the model F-16 Viper that the construction company destroyed (another story), and it needed a place to live for the next 2 1/2 years while they build our new digs and we are tenants courtesy of UT Athletics (guess I shouldn't voice my opinion about tearing down the stadium and building a 40,000-car parking garage for awhile, eh? *mad giggle*). So Bossman had this plan...and it came out awesome. Pictures are worth a kabillion of my stumbling words.
They started with a photograph, taken by a friend of the architect who was in charge of the whole move. That was turned into a graphic, printed on 42"-wide strips of adhesive vinyl and then stuck to the wall. Then they made a board of a number of our photos on half-inch PVC. Then...they drilled thru the CMU wall and bolted the armature that supports the Raptor onto the wall.
It's the first thing you see when you get off the elevator, and unless you're braindead or stoned, you can't miss it. Very impressive. We moved the sign easel and there's a blue and white plaque to the lower left of the plane now. I walk out and find the colonel just staring at it at times...well, I gotta admit, so do I. Much more impressive than these pictures show, for sure.
My junior kiddo went to band camp this week. He had to be there at 8, so we dropped him off early and went to work...we were late all but the first day, because W was drrraaaggggiiinnngg his ass. *sighs* I'd get him to bed and then he'd get up and play on his computer..usually watching some sci-fi type series on Netflix. So we took the net key away...then he'd get up and read. Band camp is over now, and he's talked to the counselor, so they know to try to help him this year. He's got a purple polo band shirt (lol). I don't know which is worse penance for flunking...not getting his transfer back into his school and having to go the one in our district so he loses all his friends...or having to wear PURPLE!! Since he can still see the friends after school (most of them are supposed to be at his school anyway) and on weekends...I'm beginning to think it's the purple shirt...and the fact that it's a polo. Those are like, way uncool, donchaknow?
My fabulous son-in-law picked W up at noon all week and taxied him home. Did I tell you I adore my SIL?
Almost lost it at work. Long story there, but suffice to say I spent 10 minutes in the bathroom, crying and talking to myself like Gollum. I really, really need a vacation. Not a day off. A bonafide vacation like with no family, no co-workers, no critters. Maybe a padded room and Mozart....
Dryer ate my favorite knickers and the corner of one of my nities. Blasted thing. I guess the belts that hold the drum in place are tired, so the drum sags and there's a space large enough to get my fingers into. Things get caught there, and dragged up to the top, where they catch and the drum keeps turning...The least damage they get is a brown, rust-ish stain. The worst is holes chewed thru them. No money to have it looked at now. I've been trying to hang things out--in this heat, it takes no time at all for them to dry--but have to watch the puppy because she loves nothing better than to jump and tear things off the line. Also...the dryer takes all the cat and dog fur off things, so if they've spent any time at all on the floor, I have to run them thru the dryer for just a bit
Goddamned fluff-muffin cat pees on everything. .Ben has decided to show his angst or ...something...by peeing on things. So he's in the cat-condo (crap, I need to finish that post). He was a barn cat rescue and never quite learned what my other cats know: You don't pee in the house. He's nailed my bed a couple of times before, but this week he got a pile of clothes and clean sheets on my bed and the bed...thank goddess for waterproof mattress pads, eh wot? and a pile of things in R's closet, including his good, everyday shoes. *grumble, curse, sigh*
Madame Bizarro gets critical acclaim. Well, I must admit, it's from a friend, but I couldn't resist posting it in the header. *giggle* A used to be my boss, once upon a time. There was a time when I was more than a little aggravated with her (and she knows that), but she's really a great person and it's very heart-warming that she stays in touch, since she's moved about three times since she left here. <3 U, A.
Got rid of the stupid C-CRAP machine. My now ex-doctor is a sleep-specialist (don't EVER tell one of those you snore), and he sent me for a sleep study. GAH!! I'm not sure how one is supposed to actually sleep with all that crap stuck to them. It's no flaming wonder I woke up every 5 minutes or whatever. So supposedly I have sleep apnea. Bullshit. I snore because I'm 100 pounds overweight and don't get enough exercise.
To be fair, I did try the machine. When I could finally get it adjusted and my claustrophobia didn't kick it, it was kind of a nice night's sleep. But whereas it takes me like 10 minutes fall asleep without it, it would take 45 minutes of screwing around with the mask, etc. and then every time I move my head, it would blow cold air into my eyes. Feh. Took it back. Now at least it's not sitting on the bedside table, guilt-nuking me. I can produce enough guilt for an small army all by myself, I don't need help.
Must shower and go to store. Yuck, I hate shopping...well, except at World Market, Container Store, and IKEA. :)
Now you get to be bored silly by what happened this week.
Continuing the settling in at work. My boss, goddess love him, is a big dork. He's one of the smartest men I've ever known personally, and does not miss a thing. He's all Air Force and everything he does is for the cadets or the AF. The move team should count its lucky stars they had him at the helm instead of some of the others we've had ...or someone like his counterparts in the other two departments (one in particular, but we won't go there, since this is a public forum, so to speak). We have this model F-22 Raptor on a stick...it replaced the model F-16 Viper that the construction company destroyed (another story), and it needed a place to live for the next 2 1/2 years while they build our new digs and we are tenants courtesy of UT Athletics (guess I shouldn't voice my opinion about tearing down the stadium and building a 40,000-car parking garage for awhile, eh? *mad giggle*). So Bossman had this plan...and it came out awesome. Pictures are worth a kabillion of my stumbling words.
They started with a photograph, taken by a friend of the architect who was in charge of the whole move. That was turned into a graphic, printed on 42"-wide strips of adhesive vinyl and then stuck to the wall. Then they made a board of a number of our photos on half-inch PVC. Then...they drilled thru the CMU wall and bolted the armature that supports the Raptor onto the wall.
It's the first thing you see when you get off the elevator, and unless you're braindead or stoned, you can't miss it. Very impressive. We moved the sign easel and there's a blue and white plaque to the lower left of the plane now. I walk out and find the colonel just staring at it at times...well, I gotta admit, so do I. Much more impressive than these pictures show, for sure.
My junior kiddo went to band camp this week. He had to be there at 8, so we dropped him off early and went to work...we were late all but the first day, because W was drrraaaggggiiinnngg his ass. *sighs* I'd get him to bed and then he'd get up and play on his computer..usually watching some sci-fi type series on Netflix. So we took the net key away...then he'd get up and read. Band camp is over now, and he's talked to the counselor, so they know to try to help him this year. He's got a purple polo band shirt (lol). I don't know which is worse penance for flunking...not getting his transfer back into his school and having to go the one in our district so he loses all his friends...or having to wear PURPLE!! Since he can still see the friends after school (most of them are supposed to be at his school anyway) and on weekends...I'm beginning to think it's the purple shirt...and the fact that it's a polo. Those are like, way uncool, donchaknow?
My fabulous son-in-law picked W up at noon all week and taxied him home. Did I tell you I adore my SIL?
Almost lost it at work. Long story there, but suffice to say I spent 10 minutes in the bathroom, crying and talking to myself like Gollum. I really, really need a vacation. Not a day off. A bonafide vacation like with no family, no co-workers, no critters. Maybe a padded room and Mozart....
Dryer ate my favorite knickers and the corner of one of my nities. Blasted thing. I guess the belts that hold the drum in place are tired, so the drum sags and there's a space large enough to get my fingers into. Things get caught there, and dragged up to the top, where they catch and the drum keeps turning...The least damage they get is a brown, rust-ish stain. The worst is holes chewed thru them. No money to have it looked at now. I've been trying to hang things out--in this heat, it takes no time at all for them to dry--but have to watch the puppy because she loves nothing better than to jump and tear things off the line. Also...the dryer takes all the cat and dog fur off things, so if they've spent any time at all on the floor, I have to run them thru the dryer for just a bit
Goddamned fluff-muffin cat pees on everything. .Ben has decided to show his angst or ...something...by peeing on things. So he's in the cat-condo (crap, I need to finish that post). He was a barn cat rescue and never quite learned what my other cats know: You don't pee in the house. He's nailed my bed a couple of times before, but this week he got a pile of clothes and clean sheets on my bed and the bed...thank goddess for waterproof mattress pads, eh wot? and a pile of things in R's closet, including his good, everyday shoes. *grumble, curse, sigh*
Madame Bizarro gets critical acclaim. Well, I must admit, it's from a friend, but I couldn't resist posting it in the header. *giggle* A used to be my boss, once upon a time. There was a time when I was more than a little aggravated with her (and she knows that), but she's really a great person and it's very heart-warming that she stays in touch, since she's moved about three times since she left here. <3 U, A.
Got rid of the stupid C-CRAP machine. My now ex-doctor is a sleep-specialist (don't EVER tell one of those you snore), and he sent me for a sleep study. GAH!! I'm not sure how one is supposed to actually sleep with all that crap stuck to them. It's no flaming wonder I woke up every 5 minutes or whatever. So supposedly I have sleep apnea. Bullshit. I snore because I'm 100 pounds overweight and don't get enough exercise.
To be fair, I did try the machine. When I could finally get it adjusted and my claustrophobia didn't kick it, it was kind of a nice night's sleep. But whereas it takes me like 10 minutes fall asleep without it, it would take 45 minutes of screwing around with the mask, etc. and then every time I move my head, it would blow cold air into my eyes. Feh. Took it back. Now at least it's not sitting on the bedside table, guilt-nuking me. I can produce enough guilt for an small army all by myself, I don't need help.
Must shower and go to store. Yuck, I hate shopping...well, except at World Market, Container Store, and IKEA. :)
Friday, August 13, 2010
34 Years....
My dad's been gone 34 years come December 12. I was 24. I was still such a child and didn't know I wouldn't have him for a long time...and didn't know the questions I should have been asking. So when I come across a picture like this...I get very sad.
This was taken 1 July, 1952, I was 2 months old and my dad was a Skyraider pilot on board that carrier--the USS Philippine Sea (CV-47, Essex Class)--on the left. The USS Barton, in the foreground is a destroyer, and the USS Iowa on the right is a battleship.
I'd kill to be able to ask him about this day...what all they did...
I often wonder what he would have thought about things today...cell phones, and PCs, and the amazing technology, the politicians, globalism, NAFTA, the fall of the American education system...and then I idly wonder if mediums are for real...
But I know he's not there, waiting for any earthbound mortal. One of the alternate dimensions has a mathematical genius who can fly better by the seat of his pants than all your fancy-schmancy jet jockeys ever could. He had his moments...when I could get so angry at him it's a wonder my head didn't implode, but he was Daddy. And I have to stop writing now, because I'm going to cry very soon.
LT Bradford ca. 1952 (that's not the kind of plane he flew in the background). The oil on his flightsuit is from the AD Skyraider. The engine had to heat up to seal everything, until then, it spewed oil over half the ocean.
Photo from http://www.navsource.org/archives/02/47.htm
This was taken 1 July, 1952, I was 2 months old and my dad was a Skyraider pilot on board that carrier--the USS Philippine Sea (CV-47, Essex Class)--on the left. The USS Barton, in the foreground is a destroyer, and the USS Iowa on the right is a battleship.
I'd kill to be able to ask him about this day...what all they did...
I often wonder what he would have thought about things today...cell phones, and PCs, and the amazing technology, the politicians, globalism, NAFTA, the fall of the American education system...and then I idly wonder if mediums are for real...
But I know he's not there, waiting for any earthbound mortal. One of the alternate dimensions has a mathematical genius who can fly better by the seat of his pants than all your fancy-schmancy jet jockeys ever could. He had his moments...when I could get so angry at him it's a wonder my head didn't implode, but he was Daddy. And I have to stop writing now, because I'm going to cry very soon.
LT Bradford ca. 1952 (that's not the kind of plane he flew in the background). The oil on his flightsuit is from the AD Skyraider. The engine had to heat up to seal everything, until then, it spewed oil over half the ocean.
Paddling the Klepper in the living room. Ca. 1974, Cleveland.
VA-115 ca. 1952 and an AD Skyraider.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Stolen from the Mistress of Wildebeests. (man, that sounds so wrong)
House Beautiful's Color Personality Quiz
1. What's the first color you see in the morning?
Depends which side of the bed I'm facing. Mostly though, stripey cat butt.
2. What color are your eyes?
Blue. No, green. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
3. What color do you wear the most?
Probably blue. I have a very boring, nondescript wardrobe (if you could even call it that).
4. What color do you never wear?
Orange! (well, except for burnt orange) and certain colors of green, yellow, and most shades of purple.
5. What color do you wear when you want to feel sexy.
Sexy? Me? Surely you jest.
6. What color gets you the most compliments?
Teals and turquoises are the best. They bring out my eyes and look very good with my redhead's complexion. (I'm now grey, but I still have the coloring)
7. What color is your lipstick?
Lipschtick? Vot iss dis lipschtick of which you speak?
8. What color was your living room when you were growing up?
I lived at 17 different address by the time I was 17...I think I remember a gold living room, but I'd be willing to bet almost all of them were some shade of off-white, ivory, cream, ecru, oyster...
9. What color was your bedroom when you were growing up?
Again...17 places. I had a couple of favorites, though. When we first moved to Lincoln, we painted my first bedroom a robin's egg blue. It was light and cheery. After my brother moved down to the recroom in the basement, I got his old room and it was dark brown. About the time my depression started...hmmm? When we moved out to the country, I got to pick the colors in my room, and I picked a peacock blue and a bright apple green. I LOVED that room. I'm going to try and reprise the colors in my sewing room.
10. What color are your sheets?
One set is a mellow gold and the other a deep avocado? Olive? not sure what flavor of green you'd call it.ETA: recently bought a set from IKEA that are a deep, luscious, eggplanty-purple. Can't wait to put them on the bed.
11. What color was your favorite crayon as a child?
"Prussian Blue"
12. What color is your car?
Black
13. What color was your prom dress?
One was black velvet, another dark blue velvet, but the one I wore to both my junior and senior proms (different cities, states, and schools) was a kind of greenish gold and white brocade...sort..of...thing.
14. What's your favorite gemstone?
Garnet, Moss Agate, rainbow fluorite, onyx.
15. What is your favorite flower?
I have to pick one?!?!
16. What color makes you happiest?
A true, clear cobalt blue. I can stare at cobalt glass forever. Although lately, I've been getting happy vibes from saturated wild colors like pink, turquoise, and purple.
17. What color depresses you?
It's very funny, blue is my favorite color, but unless it's dark either as an accent color or paired with lighter walls, I can't stand it on walls anymore (except in S1ren's bedroom, for some odd reason...). I guess I've lived too long or something, it just looks soooo dated it's depressing.
18. What color calms you?
Blues, as long as they aren't on the wall.
19. What color makes you grind your teeth?
Orange! Yellow on cars and a certain shade of purple. *ralf*
20. What color would you like to try, but are scared to?
Bright saturated colors in decorating. But Imma gonna do it!!
1. What's the first color you see in the morning?
Depends which side of the bed I'm facing. Mostly though, stripey cat butt.
2. What color are your eyes?
Blue. No, green. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
3. What color do you wear the most?
Probably blue. I have a very boring, nondescript wardrobe (if you could even call it that).
4. What color do you never wear?
Orange! (well, except for burnt orange) and certain colors of green, yellow, and most shades of purple.
5. What color do you wear when you want to feel sexy.
Sexy? Me? Surely you jest.
6. What color gets you the most compliments?
Teals and turquoises are the best. They bring out my eyes and look very good with my redhead's complexion. (I'm now grey, but I still have the coloring)
7. What color is your lipstick?
Lipschtick? Vot iss dis lipschtick of which you speak?
8. What color was your living room when you were growing up?
I lived at 17 different address by the time I was 17...I think I remember a gold living room, but I'd be willing to bet almost all of them were some shade of off-white, ivory, cream, ecru, oyster...
9. What color was your bedroom when you were growing up?
Again...17 places. I had a couple of favorites, though. When we first moved to Lincoln, we painted my first bedroom a robin's egg blue. It was light and cheery. After my brother moved down to the recroom in the basement, I got his old room and it was dark brown. About the time my depression started...hmmm? When we moved out to the country, I got to pick the colors in my room, and I picked a peacock blue and a bright apple green. I LOVED that room. I'm going to try and reprise the colors in my sewing room.
10. What color are your sheets?
One set is a mellow gold and the other a deep avocado? Olive? not sure what flavor of green you'd call it.ETA: recently bought a set from IKEA that are a deep, luscious, eggplanty-purple. Can't wait to put them on the bed.
11. What color was your favorite crayon as a child?
"Prussian Blue"
12. What color is your car?
Black
13. What color was your prom dress?
One was black velvet, another dark blue velvet, but the one I wore to both my junior and senior proms (different cities, states, and schools) was a kind of greenish gold and white brocade...sort..of...thing.
14. What's your favorite gemstone?
Garnet, Moss Agate, rainbow fluorite, onyx.
15. What is your favorite flower?
I have to pick one?!?!
16. What color makes you happiest?
A true, clear cobalt blue. I can stare at cobalt glass forever. Although lately, I've been getting happy vibes from saturated wild colors like pink, turquoise, and purple.
17. What color depresses you?
It's very funny, blue is my favorite color, but unless it's dark either as an accent color or paired with lighter walls, I can't stand it on walls anymore (except in S1ren's bedroom, for some odd reason...). I guess I've lived too long or something, it just looks soooo dated it's depressing.
18. What color calms you?
Blues, as long as they aren't on the wall.
19. What color makes you grind your teeth?
Orange! Yellow on cars and a certain shade of purple. *ralf*
20. What color would you like to try, but are scared to?
Bright saturated colors in decorating. But Imma gonna do it!!
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
To self or not to self
I must admit I was a bit self-indulgent tonight. After I went up and registered W for his new middle school (and talked to a counselor there--wow, what a novel concept, a counselor who was actually interested in helping a student, in talking to him! The ones at his old middle school didn't even return your calls or your emails, let alone give a hooey about a student), I went up to World Market and browsed for about 45 minutes. Got some licorice and a bottle of wine (pinot grigio), strictly for the beautiful cobalt blue bottle it's in--I hope it's at least decent, a stocking stuffer for #1 child, a table runner on sale, some orange marmalade, and a pair of wine stoppers in colors I just couldn't resist. Me-time & money I couldn't really afford. Dammit.
But you know, lately I keep thinking about the fact that I'm tired in mind, body, and soul...I've been working for nigh onto 40 years and quite frankly, there is no retirement in sight. Not unless the BOMITS fairy strikes.* Just knowing I spent almost 50 bucks on things I didn't really need should be a large enough clue that I don't handle money well, so it's no stretch that I have credit up the wazoo that needs paying off. If I didn't I'd be rolling in extra cash each month. What the hell is wrong with me, anyway?
I'm in too much pain in feet, hands, shoulders, hips, knees, wrists to even think about a second job. I'm dead when I get home from the first one as it is. No energy to do anything but eat some totally unhealthy crap, check email, play a few minutes of some mindless game, write a bit, read a bit (all of which can be done either sitting in a chair or in bed), and then die until 6:30 the next day. I know, I know, better diet, more activity=more energy, etc. I can't even get to that point. I'm just bloody tired.
Said friend Laura (see below) goes home and knits a wildebeest after work. Now..I admit, I've got 23 years on her and carry more weight for my height, but it's just agravating. There's so much I want to do. A lot of it is just that my spirit is dead. I've been schlepping papers for someone else for so long, I have lost any sort of self identity. All I can do is be a cranky know-it-all. Is that all there is, Alfie?
*BOMITS: Bag of Money in the Street, credited to my gorgeous friend, Laura.
But you know, lately I keep thinking about the fact that I'm tired in mind, body, and soul...I've been working for nigh onto 40 years and quite frankly, there is no retirement in sight. Not unless the BOMITS fairy strikes.* Just knowing I spent almost 50 bucks on things I didn't really need should be a large enough clue that I don't handle money well, so it's no stretch that I have credit up the wazoo that needs paying off. If I didn't I'd be rolling in extra cash each month. What the hell is wrong with me, anyway?
I'm in too much pain in feet, hands, shoulders, hips, knees, wrists to even think about a second job. I'm dead when I get home from the first one as it is. No energy to do anything but eat some totally unhealthy crap, check email, play a few minutes of some mindless game, write a bit, read a bit (all of which can be done either sitting in a chair or in bed), and then die until 6:30 the next day. I know, I know, better diet, more activity=more energy, etc. I can't even get to that point. I'm just bloody tired.
Said friend Laura (see below) goes home and knits a wildebeest after work. Now..I admit, I've got 23 years on her and carry more weight for my height, but it's just agravating. There's so much I want to do. A lot of it is just that my spirit is dead. I've been schlepping papers for someone else for so long, I have lost any sort of self identity. All I can do is be a cranky know-it-all. Is that all there is, Alfie?
*BOMITS: Bag of Money in the Street, credited to my gorgeous friend, Laura.
Grand Fubar
A friend of mine posted on Live Journal the other day about some huge conflagration of heavenly bodies in some astrological hooha known as the Grand Cross. Planets are at right angles, stars and constellations are trined and plaited and goddess only knows what up there to cause some sort of weirdness with the Universe. You know, if you go in for all that.
Makes me wonder, though. Another friend of mine has been having a rash of klutziness...breaking things, cutting herself, putting things on wrong, etc. and today I'm about to go postal on the next poor slob who asks me anything.
Part of it is the move. I've just HAD it...up to here *indicates a foot over head*. Everyone seems to think I'm this grand, walking font of knowledge and that I can solve all sorts of problems and have limitless strength and patience, and worse, that I give a flying foo about those problems in the first place.
None of that is true. Yes, I know some things, yes, I put up with a HELLUVA lot before I break, but it's not limitless. I spent 15 minutes in the loo crying, throwing things, and talking to myself like Gollum this afternoon...I'm hoping once the push to get everything put away, organized, and neatened, and the beginning of the semester will ameliorate some of my hypersensitivity to bullshit. Probably not. Maybe the Grand Fubar will shift enough and I'll start spouting poetry and painting things pink.
Aaahhh...better I should go postal on your ass.
Makes me wonder, though. Another friend of mine has been having a rash of klutziness...breaking things, cutting herself, putting things on wrong, etc. and today I'm about to go postal on the next poor slob who asks me anything.
Part of it is the move. I've just HAD it...up to here *indicates a foot over head*. Everyone seems to think I'm this grand, walking font of knowledge and that I can solve all sorts of problems and have limitless strength and patience, and worse, that I give a flying foo about those problems in the first place.
None of that is true. Yes, I know some things, yes, I put up with a HELLUVA lot before I break, but it's not limitless. I spent 15 minutes in the loo crying, throwing things, and talking to myself like Gollum this afternoon...I'm hoping once the push to get everything put away, organized, and neatened, and the beginning of the semester will ameliorate some of my hypersensitivity to bullshit. Probably not. Maybe the Grand Fubar will shift enough and I'll start spouting poetry and painting things pink.
Aaahhh...better I should go postal on your ass.
Monday, August 09, 2010
Are we there yet?
Theoretically, we're all moved in at work. My area is one of the last to be organized. Of course....hey, it's me! We have way less room than before, but it's very nice and way beats the tiny hole in the wall I had in the English department years ago. You'd never have believed I had the financial desk; you'd have thought I was a third-rate office assistant or something. (I still relish the story the person who came two after me told, when she told the chair how much that desk actually handled and if she were going to take it over how many assistants she needed...and how wide-eyed the chair got when he said, Really?!?! Wow, I never knew... Never did get an apology from him, but at least I got the satisfaction of knowing someone had set him straight on it.)
At any rate, these offices used to belong to women's athletics, now they're all ensconced in the fancy-schmancy new north end of DKR-Memorial Stadium, called the N-Zone. *rolls eyes* Over the years, the office areas of Bellmont have become rabbit's warrens of added walls, etc. We ended up taking several walls out to make the suites more functional. I don't have my camera here today, but I'll try to get pics up sometime.
Obama is on campus today, so the boss is there and I'm taking my lunch at my desk to write....I left Saraswati (that's my tiny Dell Inspiron) at home, or I'd be writing on it.
The boychile had first day of band camp today. Haven't texted him yet to find out how it was...but he's not texting me saying it was hell, either, so I'm assuming it was okay. We had to drop him off early so we could get to work. There was another boy there and they were all ready to wait, but the band director stuck his nose out the door and had them come in. W had let his hair grow pretty long and I'd already pretty much convinced him to get it cut, but after he went and ran around with his friends last week, shooting Airsoft rifles, we picked him up and he begged to get his hair cut...August in Texas, ya gotta love it. Personally, I could care less how long he grows it, but since he's starting off at a new middle school and repeating the 7th grade, I really don't want him labeled one of "those" kids, and you know they will.
Well, I'm off to the loo (I think that's what that song is really about, skip, skip...skip to my loo, skip to my loo, my darling--yep rapid bathroom trip, for sure), and then working on the supply room that holds about a third of what my old one did. Creative organization (and a large recycling bin)!
At any rate, these offices used to belong to women's athletics, now they're all ensconced in the fancy-schmancy new north end of DKR-Memorial Stadium, called the N-Zone. *rolls eyes* Over the years, the office areas of Bellmont have become rabbit's warrens of added walls, etc. We ended up taking several walls out to make the suites more functional. I don't have my camera here today, but I'll try to get pics up sometime.
Obama is on campus today, so the boss is there and I'm taking my lunch at my desk to write....I left Saraswati (that's my tiny Dell Inspiron) at home, or I'd be writing on it.
The boychile had first day of band camp today. Haven't texted him yet to find out how it was...but he's not texting me saying it was hell, either, so I'm assuming it was okay. We had to drop him off early so we could get to work. There was another boy there and they were all ready to wait, but the band director stuck his nose out the door and had them come in. W had let his hair grow pretty long and I'd already pretty much convinced him to get it cut, but after he went and ran around with his friends last week, shooting Airsoft rifles, we picked him up and he begged to get his hair cut...August in Texas, ya gotta love it. Personally, I could care less how long he grows it, but since he's starting off at a new middle school and repeating the 7th grade, I really don't want him labeled one of "those" kids, and you know they will.
Well, I'm off to the loo (I think that's what that song is really about, skip, skip...skip to my loo, skip to my loo, my darling--yep rapid bathroom trip, for sure), and then working on the supply room that holds about a third of what my old one did. Creative organization (and a large recycling bin)!
Saturday, August 07, 2010
10 things I love about my life
My husband. He's a rock.
My daughter and son. They're both wacky, super smart and one day the boy will be as awesome as the girl....right now...he's 13.
My mother. She has her moments, but 95% of the time she's pretty awesome.
My friends. Sylvan, S1ren, Debi, Lorrie, Kim....I don't know what I'd do without you all, and by extension Laurie, Kress, and Mel.
My critters. I loves me some fuzzbutts.
My boss. he aggravates the hell out of me at the same time he's cracking me up. I'm going to miss him when he PCS's.
Did I mention my awesome husband? :)
My son-in-law. He doth rock.
My minivan, Louisa. Weird as it seems, she was the exact right vehicle for this time in our lives.
This adorable little Dell 11.5 laptop. I wuvs it.
The intarwebs and Mr. Google. God, I love Googling stuff! :)
My daughter and son. They're both wacky, super smart and one day the boy will be as awesome as the girl....right now...he's 13.
My mother. She has her moments, but 95% of the time she's pretty awesome.
My friends. Sylvan, S1ren, Debi, Lorrie, Kim....I don't know what I'd do without you all, and by extension Laurie, Kress, and Mel.
My critters. I loves me some fuzzbutts.
My boss. he aggravates the hell out of me at the same time he's cracking me up. I'm going to miss him when he PCS's.
Did I mention my awesome husband? :)
My son-in-law. He doth rock.
My minivan, Louisa. Weird as it seems, she was the exact right vehicle for this time in our lives.
This adorable little Dell 11.5 laptop. I wuvs it.
The intarwebs and Mr. Google. God, I love Googling stuff! :)
Friday, August 06, 2010
Ten things I'm sick of hearing.
It is what it is. Uh...really...it is? You sure it's not something else? Positive?
Supposably. Is this supposed to be supposed and opposable together? As in a supposed thumb of opposition? It's supposEDly, folks.
May when you mean might. This one really bugs me, because then when you say may, as in giving permission, people think it's a possibility. Eddie may come over after school. That means Eddie has my permission to come over, not Eddie might come over...which is possible, or not, depending on whether his mother says he may and he can, as in he's able to.
Less when you mean fewer. I'll use fewer tissues when there's less pollen in the air.
Thoroughbred when you mean purebred. Thoroughbred is a breed of horse, period. It does not denote bloodlines. Purebred is the word you want when you're talking about your pweshus widdle snookie-wookums dust-mop Yorkie.
People saying the President isn't a natural-born citizen. Get over this one, folks. Just because you don't have the BALLS to admit you're racist, doesn't mean Mr. Obama wasn't born IN Hawaii, WHEN it was already a state. Get.over.it.
People thinking that New Orleanians hang out in the Quarter, are drunks, and show their tits to strangers on demand. That drunk chick, bobbling her boobies on Bourbon Street? That's your daughter, Mr. Iowa Farmer. Unless she's on a balcony, and then it's more than likely your son.
You can be fat AND fit. Sorry, guys, that one's a total oxymoron. By the very nature of the condition, obesity is the embodiment (no pun intended) of malnutrition and "unfitness." I'm all about loving ourselves, etc. but don't kid yourself into taking a trip on De Nial....
Oh, you'll change your mind.... to women who don't want children. They might. They might not. Not.your.business. By the same token, labeling someone as a horrible example of womanhood or some kind of failure because she decides--whatever her reasons are--not to have kids, is insulting and unfair.
Comic Sans hatred. I like Comic Sans and all you haters can just font off.
Supposably. Is this supposed to be supposed and opposable together? As in a supposed thumb of opposition? It's supposEDly, folks.
May when you mean might. This one really bugs me, because then when you say may, as in giving permission, people think it's a possibility. Eddie may come over after school. That means Eddie has my permission to come over, not Eddie might come over...which is possible, or not, depending on whether his mother says he may and he can, as in he's able to.
Less when you mean fewer. I'll use fewer tissues when there's less pollen in the air.
Thoroughbred when you mean purebred. Thoroughbred is a breed of horse, period. It does not denote bloodlines. Purebred is the word you want when you're talking about your pweshus widdle snookie-wookums dust-mop Yorkie.
People saying the President isn't a natural-born citizen. Get over this one, folks. Just because you don't have the BALLS to admit you're racist, doesn't mean Mr. Obama wasn't born IN Hawaii, WHEN it was already a state. Get.over.it.
People thinking that New Orleanians hang out in the Quarter, are drunks, and show their tits to strangers on demand. That drunk chick, bobbling her boobies on Bourbon Street? That's your daughter, Mr. Iowa Farmer. Unless she's on a balcony, and then it's more than likely your son.
You can be fat AND fit. Sorry, guys, that one's a total oxymoron. By the very nature of the condition, obesity is the embodiment (no pun intended) of malnutrition and "unfitness." I'm all about loving ourselves, etc. but don't kid yourself into taking a trip on De Nial....
Oh, you'll change your mind.... to women who don't want children. They might. They might not. Not.your.business. By the same token, labeling someone as a horrible example of womanhood or some kind of failure because she decides--whatever her reasons are--not to have kids, is insulting and unfair.
Comic Sans hatred. I like Comic Sans and all you haters can just font off.
Time to get cracking..
..or posting. I'm paying about $105 a year for this dang website, so I need to like...you know...USE IT? What a concept.
At the moment, typing is somewhat painful...we've been moving at work, as I might have mentioned, and I'm dead tired, I hurt all over and my trigger spots (hips, shoulders {esp. the left}, wrists, hands, feet) are hurting on top of the hurts. Packing, unpacking, running back and forth directing traffic, trying to do my regular job on top of it, plus the special projects that are involved in a new place and tearing down the old one. And then my 13-YO son had the unmitigated gall to say *I* don't do anything... *falls face down*
I have an IKEA hack post to finish...so imma get to it now.
ETA: The IKEA hack draft is on my other computer and the boy is watching Netflix on it. so....I'll make lists instead.
At the moment, typing is somewhat painful...we've been moving at work, as I might have mentioned, and I'm dead tired, I hurt all over and my trigger spots (hips, shoulders {esp. the left}, wrists, hands, feet) are hurting on top of the hurts. Packing, unpacking, running back and forth directing traffic, trying to do my regular job on top of it, plus the special projects that are involved in a new place and tearing down the old one. And then my 13-YO son had the unmitigated gall to say *I* don't do anything... *falls face down*
I have an IKEA hack post to finish...so imma get to it now.
ETA: The IKEA hack draft is on my other computer and the boy is watching Netflix on it. so....I'll make lists instead.
Monday, August 02, 2010
Holy Fuster Cluck, Batman!
Ow. I could end right there and have said it all. We're moving. At work, we're moving. The ROTC units at UT have been in the same building for 53 years, but the College of Liberal Arts decided it was time to tear that building down and build a big, shiny, new CLA building it its place.
At first they were trying to put all three units in the Geography building, which is older and smaller than ours. The commanders collectively kind of said..um...no...not unless you make some renovations. And to be quite honest, the GRG was just not usable the way it was. So the Navy guys were trying to solicit donations. Turns out CoLA didn't have enough money to finish tearing down our building and build the new one....an anonymous donor plunked down what they needed, with the proviso ROTC mus be in the new building. Long and short...we've all been moved to the spaces all the departments in GRG were going to be temporarily housed in while waiting for their new homes in CLA.
Army and Navy are in one building and we're in another. We're in a building that's basically slapped on the west side of DKR-Memorial Stadium. Nice digs, but much, much smaller than what we had. Holy flaky crust...our move evidently was more organized, and smaller than the other two. Good grief, I'd hate to have been in on those moves! I was at work until 10:15 Friday night packing, and got to work today at 0735, bucket o'bagels and gallon of coffee in hand, and didn't stop until after 1700 (that's 5 PM, y'all). My pains have pains. Sweet marinated Jesus on the barbie...ow. Just ow.
And while all the "stuff" has been moved, it's far from being all arranged, let alone all the shit put away. And Colonel Bossman will be driving me nuts to get things put away, pictures hung, bladeboop.
I'm too fucking old for this shit.
At first they were trying to put all three units in the Geography building, which is older and smaller than ours. The commanders collectively kind of said..um...no...not unless you make some renovations. And to be quite honest, the GRG was just not usable the way it was. So the Navy guys were trying to solicit donations. Turns out CoLA didn't have enough money to finish tearing down our building and build the new one....an anonymous donor plunked down what they needed, with the proviso ROTC mus be in the new building. Long and short...we've all been moved to the spaces all the departments in GRG were going to be temporarily housed in while waiting for their new homes in CLA.
Army and Navy are in one building and we're in another. We're in a building that's basically slapped on the west side of DKR-Memorial Stadium. Nice digs, but much, much smaller than what we had. Holy flaky crust...our move evidently was more organized, and smaller than the other two. Good grief, I'd hate to have been in on those moves! I was at work until 10:15 Friday night packing, and got to work today at 0735, bucket o'bagels and gallon of coffee in hand, and didn't stop until after 1700 (that's 5 PM, y'all). My pains have pains. Sweet marinated Jesus on the barbie...ow. Just ow.
And while all the "stuff" has been moved, it's far from being all arranged, let alone all the shit put away. And Colonel Bossman will be driving me nuts to get things put away, pictures hung, bladeboop.
I'm too fucking old for this shit.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Teasing the Universe
I’m not sure the Universe will survive this…I actually finished another project.
Okay, so it’s been slightly over a year since I finished the Cat Condo (and now it's taking me forever to write the post on the cat condo), but I took much less time to get this one done. I had this bookcase in my bedroom that was 8 feet tall and 42 inches wide, and because it started out life as a packing crate, only 7 inches deep. I got the crate from Texas Instruments when I worked in the facilities department and R and I had added some cheap lumber and made it into a bookcase for his office (which is now my bedroom). It was primarily for paperbacks, VHS tapes, and DVDs and was perfect for that. There were 6 upper shelves all just high enough for tapes/paperbacks, then two more “medium-sized” shelves that were about trade-paperback height, and then a slightly higher one, and then one more on the bottom that is abut 11 3/4” high, with a brace in the middle (behind the computer screen in the pic).
I had R cut the top 5 shelves off and trim the sides off to make three separate boxes. The bottom now sits on my desk and the top part formed three floating box shelves in my bedroom. I anchored 2x2s to the studs. Because of our craptastic builder, the studs are 24” on center (instead of 16”) in that room, so the right end and the middle I secured with 4” wood screws to the studs and the left end I had to secure with a toggle bolt. The 2x2s are cleats to which I screwed the boxes. Just waiting for the touch-up paint to dry. (When the room was R’s office, the case was unpainted, when I took it over I painted it “Cotton Whisper” to go with the “Pensive Sky” walls, and one “Painted Turtle” accent wall”
This is the base, in my office/studio/sewing room (ig..look at the clutter!)
And here are the three floating shelf boxes..the camera kind of “wide-angled” it, so they look warped, but they really aren’t. And they are all the same size, level, and evenly hung, even though the pic doesn’t show that very well. I only had to buy corner braces, an 8’ section of 2x2 (I had one piece already), and some 4” wood screws. All the rest I had. This is the “Painted Turtle” accent wall, and the color is off in this photo, of course. It’s a deep, cool warm green...and yes, the green in both pics is the same color.
Wheee! Can’t wait to get my stuff up on them…Dry paint, Dry!!
Okay, so it’s been slightly over a year since I finished the Cat Condo (and now it's taking me forever to write the post on the cat condo), but I took much less time to get this one done. I had this bookcase in my bedroom that was 8 feet tall and 42 inches wide, and because it started out life as a packing crate, only 7 inches deep. I got the crate from Texas Instruments when I worked in the facilities department and R and I had added some cheap lumber and made it into a bookcase for his office (which is now my bedroom). It was primarily for paperbacks, VHS tapes, and DVDs and was perfect for that. There were 6 upper shelves all just high enough for tapes/paperbacks, then two more “medium-sized” shelves that were about trade-paperback height, and then a slightly higher one, and then one more on the bottom that is abut 11 3/4” high, with a brace in the middle (behind the computer screen in the pic).
I had R cut the top 5 shelves off and trim the sides off to make three separate boxes. The bottom now sits on my desk and the top part formed three floating box shelves in my bedroom. I anchored 2x2s to the studs. Because of our craptastic builder, the studs are 24” on center (instead of 16”) in that room, so the right end and the middle I secured with 4” wood screws to the studs and the left end I had to secure with a toggle bolt. The 2x2s are cleats to which I screwed the boxes. Just waiting for the touch-up paint to dry. (When the room was R’s office, the case was unpainted, when I took it over I painted it “Cotton Whisper” to go with the “Pensive Sky” walls, and one “Painted Turtle” accent wall”
This is the base, in my office/studio/sewing room (ig..look at the clutter!)
And here are the three floating shelf boxes..the camera kind of “wide-angled” it, so they look warped, but they really aren’t. And they are all the same size, level, and evenly hung, even though the pic doesn’t show that very well. I only had to buy corner braces, an 8’ section of 2x2 (I had one piece already), and some 4” wood screws. All the rest I had. This is the “Painted Turtle” accent wall, and the color is off in this photo, of course. It’s a deep, cool warm green...and yes, the green in both pics is the same color.
Wheee! Can’t wait to get my stuff up on them…Dry paint, Dry!!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Honesty: Don't you believe it.
Contrary to what (most) people will tell you, they do not, in fact, want you to be honest with them. Most people are terrified of the truth...it might confirm their worst fears. They don't want to think about the truth, that might require work or, worse, a paradigm shift, on their part. Paradigm shift is just fancy talk for a reality check. People in denial about their behavior, or their work habits (or lack thereof) don't like reality checks. They also spend a good deal of their time and energy being paranoid, convinced everyone is talking about them and/or out to get them. Which could be true. As the old joke has it, just because you're paranoid does not mean everyone's not out to get you.
I have a co-worker who I've tried several times to go somewhere and talk with me, have lunch or whatever. But because she apparently was afraid of what I might say, she kept blowing me off. When I finally had had enough, I vented to the boss. There really wasn't anything we wouldn't have said to her in person...but she walked in the office behind us and heard part of the conversation. She didn't hear all of it and so of course took what she did hear out of context. I told the boss I thought she had heard it, but he, being male, was all, no I don't think so, she's just quiet because...blahdeblah. But, eventually it came out when I asked her why she'd dropped me from FB. So, I told her what the convo was about.
As stated earlier...she really didn't want me to be honest.
So, moral of the story, don't lie, but don't be honest either.
I have a co-worker who I've tried several times to go somewhere and talk with me, have lunch or whatever. But because she apparently was afraid of what I might say, she kept blowing me off. When I finally had had enough, I vented to the boss. There really wasn't anything we wouldn't have said to her in person...but she walked in the office behind us and heard part of the conversation. She didn't hear all of it and so of course took what she did hear out of context. I told the boss I thought she had heard it, but he, being male, was all, no I don't think so, she's just quiet because...blahdeblah. But, eventually it came out when I asked her why she'd dropped me from FB. So, I told her what the convo was about.
As stated earlier...she really didn't want me to be honest.
So, moral of the story, don't lie, but don't be honest either.
Saturday, July 03, 2010
For runners and others who wear trainers
A three-inch piece of 3M Scotch Poster Tape
across the back of your heel will keep your footie-type socks from sliding in your shoes and helps stave off blisters.
Hey! A helpful tip today!
across the back of your heel will keep your footie-type socks from sliding in your shoes and helps stave off blisters.Hey! A helpful tip today!
Friday, July 02, 2010
Everyone but Johnny...
I've come to the conclusion that most people I know don't "get" me. That's not a self-pity thing. I just have a very bizarre sense of humor and take delight in not only expanding my knowledge on a given subject, but enlightening those around me...much to their annoyance, I might add. I either wrongly assume they know nothing about whatever it is or that they must have the same level of curiosity that I do. I'm usually wrong on both counts.
My husband gets it...he's worse than I am at these assumptions and will blithely talk your ear and then your arm and then any other hapless body parts off in endless elucidations about...Formula 1 racing or medieval knights or what had happened if so and so hadn't killed a pig early on in Texas history. I pale in comparison in knowitallness. I normally just listen...or rather give the appearance of listening. Two minutes later I can't tell you a damn thing about what he just said. Not because I don't care, but because, more than likely, I'll hear it all again at some point...review sessions ftw. :)
As for my own KIAness, I suppose I need, at the ripe old age of 58, to learn that people don't give a shit. They don't really care that potatoes aren't native to India and therefore not, in my mind, part of traditional food. The fact they've been there for 200+ years makes them traditional in everyone else's mind. And they're right, I mean...you know 200 years is a really old tradition! *laugh* To me, it's but a blink in the life of the universe.
My coworkers rag me all the time...if they come up with some inaccuracy, I'm there to say, "Well, actually...(and they know they're in for it right then)..." and proceed to set them all straight.
It's kind of like my plethora of cats and my collection of fabric and herd of dust rhinos. Love all of me, or...tell me to get a life....you won't hurt my feelings, cuz I know I'm annoying.
My husband gets it...he's worse than I am at these assumptions and will blithely talk your ear and then your arm and then any other hapless body parts off in endless elucidations about...Formula 1 racing or medieval knights or what had happened if so and so hadn't killed a pig early on in Texas history. I pale in comparison in knowitallness. I normally just listen...or rather give the appearance of listening. Two minutes later I can't tell you a damn thing about what he just said. Not because I don't care, but because, more than likely, I'll hear it all again at some point...review sessions ftw. :)
As for my own KIAness, I suppose I need, at the ripe old age of 58, to learn that people don't give a shit. They don't really care that potatoes aren't native to India and therefore not, in my mind, part of traditional food. The fact they've been there for 200+ years makes them traditional in everyone else's mind. And they're right, I mean...you know 200 years is a really old tradition! *laugh* To me, it's but a blink in the life of the universe.
My coworkers rag me all the time...if they come up with some inaccuracy, I'm there to say, "Well, actually...(and they know they're in for it right then)..." and proceed to set them all straight.
It's kind of like my plethora of cats and my collection of fabric and herd of dust rhinos. Love all of me, or...tell me to get a life....you won't hurt my feelings, cuz I know I'm annoying.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Dysnomia
That's what I have! More and more I try to remember the right word to use and simply cannot. For instance, in my last post, I was trying to remember the correct word for dicking around with that 50-ft hose, and then again at work, same word for something else I was doing, and then again today while helping my daughter...same frippin' word I was trying to find. Finally on the way home, when I was talking about what L&J still had to do at their old apartment...packing up the last stuff, this, that, and cat WRANGLING!
WRANGLING!! GAH!
Some theories include antidepressants could be part of the cause of dysnomia. Whatever...I hate it.
WRANGLING!! GAH!
Some theories include antidepressants could be part of the cause of dysnomia. Whatever...I hate it.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Sore hands and wrists...
...must mean I've made new promises to be active, productive, move ahead, garden, walk the dogs...some sort of activity that my joints object to.
I did walk the dogs, and do a bit of watering...it was marshaling wrangling 50 feet or so of garden hose that more than likely did it. I walked both dogs, although I really only intended to walk one. I went a good ways up the hill with the old, chubby, sweet Golden Retriever and on the way back down the other side, there was this old man, looked harmless enough, older than I, wearing a Longhorns cap, and smoking...I was my usual way friendly self and smiled and said hi. And he muttered something and I said, "Excuse me.." Took him several tries and he kept looking back in his door...and that should have been the clue right there, because when he finally got himself heard, what he was asking was, "Can I see your ass?"
"Can you see my ass? No. You can see it as I walk away." And I left, pulling out my cell phone as I did. So I walked home, and got the other dog...young, huge, needs a Gentle Leader which looks to the uninitiated like a muzzle of some kind (it isn't), and my husband. All 6'4" 300 pounds of him, and walked back up the street, just sauntering along.
I did not know an elderly gentleman could move that fast......
I did walk the dogs, and do a bit of watering...it was marshaling wrangling 50 feet or so of garden hose that more than likely did it. I walked both dogs, although I really only intended to walk one. I went a good ways up the hill with the old, chubby, sweet Golden Retriever and on the way back down the other side, there was this old man, looked harmless enough, older than I, wearing a Longhorns cap, and smoking...I was my usual way friendly self and smiled and said hi. And he muttered something and I said, "Excuse me.." Took him several tries and he kept looking back in his door...and that should have been the clue right there, because when he finally got himself heard, what he was asking was, "Can I see your ass?"
"Can you see my ass? No. You can see it as I walk away." And I left, pulling out my cell phone as I did. So I walked home, and got the other dog...young, huge, needs a Gentle Leader which looks to the uninitiated like a muzzle of some kind (it isn't), and my husband. All 6'4" 300 pounds of him, and walked back up the street, just sauntering along.
I did not know an elderly gentleman could move that fast......
15 June
Your unrelenting determination is useful today as you manage a complex family situation that has created its share of stress. Fortunately, your key planet Venus forms an easy trine to lucky Jupiter, enabling you to find a solution to a problem that has been nagging at you for a while. Nevertheless, it could take a minor crisis to motivate you to investigate further. Remember that temporary patches and quick fixes are not a smart idea at this time.
This one was sooo apropos, it wasn't even funny. But, because it has to do with certain aspects of my family, I can't elaborate. If you know me, you probably know. If you know me and you don't know...it probably doesn't concern you.
This one was sooo apropos, it wasn't even funny. But, because it has to do with certain aspects of my family, I can't elaborate. If you know me, you probably know. If you know me and you don't know...it probably doesn't concern you.
June 14
It's quite unsettling when you are not in control of your feelings, but try not to worry if you aren't satisfied with what you currently have. Trust your instincts, for your ruling planet Venus enters your 4th House of Security, ensuring your common sense in love even if you consider shaking everything up for the sake of change. But be careful of overreacting or your inflexibility can create unnecessary problems. Be open to meeting others halfway or you might miss the love that's already in your life.
I know there was a very good reason for saving this one...but you know, a week later, if I don't make any notes, it's hard to say what was running through my head. I do remember the night before, as I tried to go to sleep, feeling utterly and completely out of control of my life...to the point where I actually, seriously thought about rope and the rafters of the back porch. Two main things stopped me...the first being my children. I would never, ever do that to them. What a horrible, selfish thing to do to one's children...let alone spouse, parents, siblings, co-workers, etc. The other is the thing that's always stopped me...if you give in to the long term solution to a short-term problem, you never know what the next chapter is, do you?
I've been getting steadily better since then, even though in some ways, some things are worse than they were then. But yesterday I vowed to press on, take control and stop waiting for someone to save me. Only one someone can save me....me.
I know there was a very good reason for saving this one...but you know, a week later, if I don't make any notes, it's hard to say what was running through my head. I do remember the night before, as I tried to go to sleep, feeling utterly and completely out of control of my life...to the point where I actually, seriously thought about rope and the rafters of the back porch. Two main things stopped me...the first being my children. I would never, ever do that to them. What a horrible, selfish thing to do to one's children...let alone spouse, parents, siblings, co-workers, etc. The other is the thing that's always stopped me...if you give in to the long term solution to a short-term problem, you never know what the next chapter is, do you?
I've been getting steadily better since then, even though in some ways, some things are worse than they were then. But yesterday I vowed to press on, take control and stop waiting for someone to save me. Only one someone can save me....me.
Monday, June 14, 2010
To Kid or Not to Kid.
Somehow or other I ended up reading this blog post about the Duggars.
Leaving aside my opinions on their religious views, because in the end, unless you’re sacrificing children or animals, using children in sex rituals, or marrying teenaged girls (or boys) and having sex with them, I don’t really care what you believe. To a point. The problem with the Duggars and others who think it’s okay to litter the earth with their spawn is that they are hurting others.
It should be fairly obvious why, but not one person who commented on that blog post got it, not one mentioned the reason having so many kids is bad. Sure, if Michelle Duggar (who reminds me eerily of Karen Allen) wants to be a broodmare just to let Jim-Bob prove his masculinity, fine. Personally, I think it’s warped, but it’s her choice. And I have no problem with the older kids helping to raise the younger ones. Folks, that’s the way it’s always been done in larger families, and the way it should be. The older kids learn, then teach, and by teaching and taking care of their younger siblings, they learn to take care of their future kids (or decide, hell no, I don’t want any). My opinion always used to be, if you can afford ‘em, have ‘em—nothing worse than poor people popping out one kid after another when they can’t afford to clothe and feed them. It’s rumored the only reason they can afford all those spuds is because of the deal they made with TLC, but if that is true, then I suppose they get kudos for figuring out how to fund their tiny army.
I don’t criticize Michelle and Jim-Bob for Josie’s premature birth. That could happen with a first child or any one of them. I don’t even condemn them for giving every last munchkin a name starting with J. But really, what the heck is up with that? And why all Js? Why not every other one an M for Michelle? All Js is proof positive of Jim-Bob’s infatuation with his own genitals, but, as they say, I digress.
Anyone out there remember the basic cycle of life, the one that allows us to live on this rock? Very simply put, it’s respiration. We breathe in oxygen (and a few other gases) and breathe out carbon dioxide. We cannot breathe that air back in until it’s “cleaned.” It’s why you suffocate if you put a plastic bag over your head. We always say, they ran out of air. That’s not strictly true. There’s air, alright, but we’ve poisoned it by using it. There’s a rather complicated process in which our lungs convert oxygen (O2)-rich air into CO2-rich air. We can’t use CO2. Enter plants. Plants, very simply put once again, turn CO2-rich air (which is toxic to us) into O2-rich air. It’s a deal made in heaven…or wherever you’d like.
Plants, and in particular, trees, are the Earth’s lungs. Whether you believe in the six-day, Bada-Bing theory in which God pulls a rabbit out of his hat (along with a boatload or two of other creatures), lights all the stars in the sky and then ruins it all by making Man from a lump of clay (that should have told God right there what dirty bastards we’d be); or you believe in a godless universe that lit itself on fire; or somewhere in between, the symbiosis between living beings, mammals, rodents, birds, etc., and plant life is brilliant. And crucial.
We are killing trees and other green things as fast as we possibly can. And in return, their absence is killing us.
The average American, regardless of income, puts out about 20 metric tons of carbon dioxide per year (as compared with a world average of about 4 metric tons per person, per year.¹ Twenty.Metric.Tons. And yet we’re cutting down the forests and plowing up the fields faster than they can be replaced.
So, let’s do some wildly off-the-cuff math and say the Duggars finally figure out after the birth of wee Josie, that if Michelle pops one more puppy out, she’ll have to have a zipper installed, so they stop spawning (I have this sneaky suspicion that Jim-Bob would have to be made a eunuch first, but I digress again). That still leaves 21 people in the household (let’s just say for a moment that the one daughter who’s already married and starting a tiny army of her own is still at home and not yet had any babies). 21 x 20. That’s 420 metric tons of carbon dioxide into the air, every year, as opposed to the “average” family of, for the sake of simplicity, four, or 16 metric tons.
Let’s take Michelle and ol’ JB out of the picture, because they’ve been around for awhile. That leaves 19. And we’ll be generous and take the 2 kids that the “average” family has from the equation, too. That leaves 17.
That’s 340 metric tons of extra CO2 in an already burdened atmosphere. Add to it the space taken by let’s say, to be conservative, 1/3 of them, 5.67, to build new homes. Another third moves into new apartment buildings, and the last third, bless them, move into existing homes (either apartments, semi-detached, or detached housing).
The average new home size in the U.S. in 2009 was 2,135 square feet.² Fortunately it was showing a down trend from a high in 2007 of 2,277 square feet. Let’s give those 5.67 Little Duggars the benefit of the doubt and say their yearly income, combined with a down-trend in new home size puts them at roughly 1800 square feet per Duggar. That’s 10,206 square feet, not counting concrete patios and driveways, that are not producing O2 anymore (not to mention the reflected heat sending the temperature of the atmosphere even higher). Combined with whatever square footage the apartments the second third is living in. Let’s be generous and place the area at half what the first third is taking up, so 5,030 square feet. Total 15, 090 square feet, or roughly .42 suburban acre.
That certainly doesn’t seem like a lot, does it? However, by the time you figure in the square footage of new places to shop, work, worship, and learn, plus the parking lots, the square footage of greenspace—The Earth’s lungs, remember—lost is daunting. Add water used, run-off, sewage and trash produced, lawn chemicals used, not to mention landscapes irrevocably lost or changed, and suddenly those extra Duggars, and the extra kids of any family that doesn’t seem to know what the words birth control mean, add up to a bigger threat than just the demise of Michelle Duggar's beleaguered uterus.
The right-wing Christian contingent (notice I do not say all Christians, because I know many who are horrified at what we are doing to our planet) seems to think that caring about the Earth is somehow or other evil, anti-God, and a liberal plot. That somehow, Jesus says it’s okay to piss on Mother Earth, to plunder her riches, to tear up her green mantle until there’s nothing left. That it’s okay to have one kid after another, without regard to where they will live and work, and what they will eat once we’ve paved over all the farms to make room for sloburbia.
Wow. Those are not the lessons I learned in Sunday School.
I don’t know about you, but I learned God created the Earth, making it sacred. We are stewards of the Earth. Good stewards do not rape or plunder that which has been placed in their care. Even if you don’t place any authority in the Bible, it’s just plain, practical sense to not destroy that which gives you life and that which will support your progeny. In effect, people like the Duggars (i.e. Quiverfull) are not only selfish, but are also cutting off their noses to spite their faces. The more children they have, the harder it will be for those kids to survive, and even harder still for their kids to survive.
Things like verses 3-5 of Psalm 127 were written in a time when very few people, relatively speaking, inhabited the Earth, and the Jews in particular, needed more people to fight the growing number of enemies they were amassing. Of course they’re going to tell you to have a bunch of kids, especially when over half of them would probably not reach adolescence, let alone adulthood. This is the problem with fundamentalism, it fails to place the Bible within its historical context. It’s nigh onto impossible to take something written for the illiterate who lived over two thousand years ago, before humankind advanced enough to delve into our past and into the very nature of life itself, and apply it to modern-day life. Of course, if you ignore all we know about the authors of the Bible and insist it was written by the Divine Hand, then all bets are off.
So, yes, your uncontrolled reproduction is hurting me, and worse, it’s hurting my children. I have a right to be angry about that and to let you know about it. Not that I think for a moment you care about anyone’s opinion but your own.
Related sites:
http://www.nrdc.org/cities/smartgrowth/rpave.asp
Leaving aside my opinions on their religious views, because in the end, unless you’re sacrificing children or animals, using children in sex rituals, or marrying teenaged girls (or boys) and having sex with them, I don’t really care what you believe. To a point. The problem with the Duggars and others who think it’s okay to litter the earth with their spawn is that they are hurting others.
It should be fairly obvious why, but not one person who commented on that blog post got it, not one mentioned the reason having so many kids is bad. Sure, if Michelle Duggar (who reminds me eerily of Karen Allen) wants to be a broodmare just to let Jim-Bob prove his masculinity, fine. Personally, I think it’s warped, but it’s her choice. And I have no problem with the older kids helping to raise the younger ones. Folks, that’s the way it’s always been done in larger families, and the way it should be. The older kids learn, then teach, and by teaching and taking care of their younger siblings, they learn to take care of their future kids (or decide, hell no, I don’t want any). My opinion always used to be, if you can afford ‘em, have ‘em—nothing worse than poor people popping out one kid after another when they can’t afford to clothe and feed them. It’s rumored the only reason they can afford all those spuds is because of the deal they made with TLC, but if that is true, then I suppose they get kudos for figuring out how to fund their tiny army.
I don’t criticize Michelle and Jim-Bob for Josie’s premature birth. That could happen with a first child or any one of them. I don’t even condemn them for giving every last munchkin a name starting with J. But really, what the heck is up with that? And why all Js? Why not every other one an M for Michelle? All Js is proof positive of Jim-Bob’s infatuation with his own genitals, but, as they say, I digress.
Anyone out there remember the basic cycle of life, the one that allows us to live on this rock? Very simply put, it’s respiration. We breathe in oxygen (and a few other gases) and breathe out carbon dioxide. We cannot breathe that air back in until it’s “cleaned.” It’s why you suffocate if you put a plastic bag over your head. We always say, they ran out of air. That’s not strictly true. There’s air, alright, but we’ve poisoned it by using it. There’s a rather complicated process in which our lungs convert oxygen (O2)-rich air into CO2-rich air. We can’t use CO2. Enter plants. Plants, very simply put once again, turn CO2-rich air (which is toxic to us) into O2-rich air. It’s a deal made in heaven…or wherever you’d like.
Plants, and in particular, trees, are the Earth’s lungs. Whether you believe in the six-day, Bada-Bing theory in which God pulls a rabbit out of his hat (along with a boatload or two of other creatures), lights all the stars in the sky and then ruins it all by making Man from a lump of clay (that should have told God right there what dirty bastards we’d be); or you believe in a godless universe that lit itself on fire; or somewhere in between, the symbiosis between living beings, mammals, rodents, birds, etc., and plant life is brilliant. And crucial.
We are killing trees and other green things as fast as we possibly can. And in return, their absence is killing us.
The average American, regardless of income, puts out about 20 metric tons of carbon dioxide per year (as compared with a world average of about 4 metric tons per person, per year.¹ Twenty.Metric.Tons. And yet we’re cutting down the forests and plowing up the fields faster than they can be replaced.
So, let’s do some wildly off-the-cuff math and say the Duggars finally figure out after the birth of wee Josie, that if Michelle pops one more puppy out, she’ll have to have a zipper installed, so they stop spawning (I have this sneaky suspicion that Jim-Bob would have to be made a eunuch first, but I digress again). That still leaves 21 people in the household (let’s just say for a moment that the one daughter who’s already married and starting a tiny army of her own is still at home and not yet had any babies). 21 x 20. That’s 420 metric tons of carbon dioxide into the air, every year, as opposed to the “average” family of, for the sake of simplicity, four, or 16 metric tons.
Let’s take Michelle and ol’ JB out of the picture, because they’ve been around for awhile. That leaves 19. And we’ll be generous and take the 2 kids that the “average” family has from the equation, too. That leaves 17.
That’s 340 metric tons of extra CO2 in an already burdened atmosphere. Add to it the space taken by let’s say, to be conservative, 1/3 of them, 5.67, to build new homes. Another third moves into new apartment buildings, and the last third, bless them, move into existing homes (either apartments, semi-detached, or detached housing).
The average new home size in the U.S. in 2009 was 2,135 square feet.² Fortunately it was showing a down trend from a high in 2007 of 2,277 square feet. Let’s give those 5.67 Little Duggars the benefit of the doubt and say their yearly income, combined with a down-trend in new home size puts them at roughly 1800 square feet per Duggar. That’s 10,206 square feet, not counting concrete patios and driveways, that are not producing O2 anymore (not to mention the reflected heat sending the temperature of the atmosphere even higher). Combined with whatever square footage the apartments the second third is living in. Let’s be generous and place the area at half what the first third is taking up, so 5,030 square feet. Total 15, 090 square feet, or roughly .42 suburban acre.
That certainly doesn’t seem like a lot, does it? However, by the time you figure in the square footage of new places to shop, work, worship, and learn, plus the parking lots, the square footage of greenspace—The Earth’s lungs, remember—lost is daunting. Add water used, run-off, sewage and trash produced, lawn chemicals used, not to mention landscapes irrevocably lost or changed, and suddenly those extra Duggars, and the extra kids of any family that doesn’t seem to know what the words birth control mean, add up to a bigger threat than just the demise of Michelle Duggar's beleaguered uterus.
The right-wing Christian contingent (notice I do not say all Christians, because I know many who are horrified at what we are doing to our planet) seems to think that caring about the Earth is somehow or other evil, anti-God, and a liberal plot. That somehow, Jesus says it’s okay to piss on Mother Earth, to plunder her riches, to tear up her green mantle until there’s nothing left. That it’s okay to have one kid after another, without regard to where they will live and work, and what they will eat once we’ve paved over all the farms to make room for sloburbia.
Wow. Those are not the lessons I learned in Sunday School.
I don’t know about you, but I learned God created the Earth, making it sacred. We are stewards of the Earth. Good stewards do not rape or plunder that which has been placed in their care. Even if you don’t place any authority in the Bible, it’s just plain, practical sense to not destroy that which gives you life and that which will support your progeny. In effect, people like the Duggars (i.e. Quiverfull) are not only selfish, but are also cutting off their noses to spite their faces. The more children they have, the harder it will be for those kids to survive, and even harder still for their kids to survive.
Things like verses 3-5 of Psalm 127 were written in a time when very few people, relatively speaking, inhabited the Earth, and the Jews in particular, needed more people to fight the growing number of enemies they were amassing. Of course they’re going to tell you to have a bunch of kids, especially when over half of them would probably not reach adolescence, let alone adulthood. This is the problem with fundamentalism, it fails to place the Bible within its historical context. It’s nigh onto impossible to take something written for the illiterate who lived over two thousand years ago, before humankind advanced enough to delve into our past and into the very nature of life itself, and apply it to modern-day life. Of course, if you ignore all we know about the authors of the Bible and insist it was written by the Divine Hand, then all bets are off.
So, yes, your uncontrolled reproduction is hurting me, and worse, it’s hurting my children. I have a right to be angry about that and to let you know about it. Not that I think for a moment you care about anyone’s opinion but your own.
Related sites:
http://www.nrdc.org/cities/smartgrowth/rpave.asp
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Food tricks
Butter is low-carb, but no matter how much you add to bread, corn, or potatoes...they still won't be low-carb.
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
Sunday, June 06, 2010
What a marvelous thing.
A clean fridge is a marvelous thing.
A clean refrigerator. Aaaah. My hands are raw and I've dripped soapy water from one end of the kitchen to the other, and most of my groceries (except dairy) sat out all day. But the fridge is all washed and the crap cleaned out. I took out every shelf and door pocket, took them apart and scrubbed 'em with Method Purple Spray (which, by the way, works better than anything I've ever found on that tough, sticky kitchen grease), and also with soapy water, rinsed and dried, and reassembled them. Also took a bunch of stuff out to the compost. The person who messes it up will not be a happy camper.
The freezer side is next. Then to conquer the rest of the kitchen. Ennui be damned!
Oh, and the spousal unit laughed his ass off at me taking this picture.
Everything but the kitchen sink.
Taking apart my fridge and washing all the various trays, drawers, and parts has sharply reminded me why I want one of these:
I currently have the original, cheap-ass, shallow, stainless steel double sink that came in the house. If you look at a dish the wrong way, water floods your counters. I would dearly love to have a sink like this one. Image from Southern Living.
Frankly, my dear...
I think there's a special place in HELL for apostrophe abusers!
I will never, ever get the environmentalists thing. So, according to Jesus, it's okay to rape, plunder, overpopulate, and generally destroy the beautiful world that was created for us? Not what I got out of Sunday School. Personally, I think--if Hell exists--there's a very, very special place for haters.
Apostrophe Abusers Repent!!
I will never, ever get the environmentalists thing. So, according to Jesus, it's okay to rape, plunder, overpopulate, and generally destroy the beautiful world that was created for us? Not what I got out of Sunday School. Personally, I think--if Hell exists--there's a very, very special place for haters.
Daily Horoscope
For my main home page, I have iGoogle. You can pick all sorts of fun widgets to clutter up your iGoogle page and one of them is a daily horoscope from Tarot.com. For the most part, it's like any other generic, one-size-fits-none daily horoscope. But lately, they've been hitting it eerily spot-on. Today's is a prime example:
Over the last couple of days, I've been determined to turn things around in my life, to end the cycle of downward spiral, clean things up, clear things out, lose weight, finish projects, etc. But my mind can't settle on one thing to begin with. Today I decided to take control of my kitchen. I've washed a ton of dishes, and am cleaning the fridge out (most of what was in there was nascent compost), wash it out and clean the floors and start the plan to paint and refurbish the kitchen. Also, I want to work my way through the laundry monster that's taken over the laundry/cat area in my studio, and move ahead on getting my shelves back up in my bedroom.
Why the heck am I sitting here typing??
You may feel as if you are at a turning point in your life, but everything may seem bigger than it actually is. It will take months before your long-term goals clarify, yet the choices you make now will be instrumental in your new direction. Don't worry if you cannot put all your ideas into one practical package. For now, let your imagination flow without restraint; you can make sense of your thoughts later on.
Over the last couple of days, I've been determined to turn things around in my life, to end the cycle of downward spiral, clean things up, clear things out, lose weight, finish projects, etc. But my mind can't settle on one thing to begin with. Today I decided to take control of my kitchen. I've washed a ton of dishes, and am cleaning the fridge out (most of what was in there was nascent compost), wash it out and clean the floors and start the plan to paint and refurbish the kitchen. Also, I want to work my way through the laundry monster that's taken over the laundry/cat area in my studio, and move ahead on getting my shelves back up in my bedroom.
Why the heck am I sitting here typing??
Saturday, June 05, 2010
Tip for the day: Rude Awakening
Want to kick yourself out of denial about something? Pictures are worth a thousand therapists. Think that room isn't so bad? Or that slinky outfit you're about to go out the door in? Take a digipic real quick and have a gander.
The House, so far...or confessions of the organizationally challenged.
We've lived in this house for exactly 20 years and 1 month (not counting the 4-5 months I lived in an apartment by myself, but that's a whole other story). It was built by a less-than-reputable builder, Nash Phillips/Copus Homes or NPC. Back while this subdivision was being built but before I'd heard of it, I was dating a guy whose mom lived in a fairly nice neighborhood in the south part of the city...why am I being coy? If you know who or what NPC Homes was, you'll know where I am, so what the hell. In South Austin, off of William Cannon. This boyfriend was the first person to tell me the other names for NPC: "Nails, Paper, and Cardboard" and "Not Properly Constructed." The year after we moved in here, a tax adjuster for Travis County said he had been one of the original owners in the little exclusive condo neighborhood attached to the bigger development of single-family homes. They had a HOA and tons of issues with NPC...he added the epithet "Never Pays Contractors."
After 20 years of living here, I've added my own: "Nothing Per Code." The sheet rock is cheap, too thin, and barely taped; none of the plumbing was installed correctly--we're still waiting to find the money to have the hall bathtub drain fixed (as in new stuff, properly installed), so we can replace the flooring in the greatroom--on long walls, there's only 1 duplex, instead of the 2-3 there should be; everywhere we've torn up flooring, there's been some cryptic message scrawled in black marker by an inspector "not plumb" with an arrow pointing to the wall, is my favorite. But the single biggest code whanger I've found was brought to my attention by the guy who bought the house next door. He's since sold and moved, but I remember one day, not long after he moved in. He was furious. He'd bought the small footprint, 2-BR house with the intention of adding on a second story, only to find out that the studs were 22 inches on center. If you're not the constructionly type...studs are supposed to be 16 inches on center. The builder saved about a third of the framing costs right there. My studs run 22-24 inches on center (and no rude jokes, please).
Since NPC went under, Nash Phillips came back and started Wilshire Homes here in the Austin area. As far as I know, they are very nice, well-built houses, in fact, we had looked at some up in Round Rock. Either he learned his lesson...or another thought occurred to me. Perhaps the people working for NPC were robbing the company blind, some sort of concerted effort by a superintendent, etc. to skim as much as they could. Imagine, if you will, NPC buys enough wood to properly frame out the entire subdivision. But the contractor, because he knows he's not going to get his money anytime soon...skims 1/3 of the 2x4s. That's a fair chunk of change, and in these cheap little houses, purchased mostly by first-time, low-income buyers, who's going to notice? Makes you wonder.
None of this really has much to do with my dilemma, except that the house is built of cheap materials which are now falling apart. Not horribly...yet. But enough that the house really needs work. Add to it my proclivity for STUFF and we have a problem. Add to it my total lack of energy when I get home and we have an even bigger problem. Add to that my ADD and ...well... Anyone who knows an ADD person knows that we tend to start a whole lot of things, but never finish them, which of course adds even more crap and inability to decide even where to start. My doctor, who's a sleep specialist (never, ever tell a sleep specialist you snore...), says he's not sure he believes in adult ADD. eh...doc? So I guess we grow out of it? Doc, that's like saying someone will grow out of their eye color. Supposedly, all my symptoms can be explained by sleep deprivation. That's fine, but I'm not sleep deprived, as long as I actually go to bed on time. I also find it hard to believe that certain behaviors specific to ADD are caused by sleep deprivation. Like starting a project or taking on a position in a group, and then losing interest, but meanwhile, you've gone gung-ho into it, and have all the tools, books, materials, etc. only to leave them behind...usually in a pile somewhere and start another project. Or, be working on a project and think about something else you could do with an item in your hand and go dig out all kinds of fabric, etc, to look at and then leave that out. Then later, you want to clean up, but literally do not know where or how to start. Inability to concentrate? Sure, I could give that one over to sleep deprivation...except that it's been going on all my life, and I've only been snoring since I got really overweight....
Any who...back to the house. In some regards, you could say I'm a type of hoarder. But I can throw things out, I can organize them, I can give them away...having the energy to do that and enough time to think about it, that's something else. Depression...did I mention that part, too? Crap. Well...and you can see just how easily I get distracted by reading this, yes?
This started out about my house and all that needs to be done...stayed tuned for part the second.
After 20 years of living here, I've added my own: "Nothing Per Code." The sheet rock is cheap, too thin, and barely taped; none of the plumbing was installed correctly--we're still waiting to find the money to have the hall bathtub drain fixed (as in new stuff, properly installed), so we can replace the flooring in the greatroom--on long walls, there's only 1 duplex, instead of the 2-3 there should be; everywhere we've torn up flooring, there's been some cryptic message scrawled in black marker by an inspector "not plumb" with an arrow pointing to the wall, is my favorite. But the single biggest code whanger I've found was brought to my attention by the guy who bought the house next door. He's since sold and moved, but I remember one day, not long after he moved in. He was furious. He'd bought the small footprint, 2-BR house with the intention of adding on a second story, only to find out that the studs were 22 inches on center. If you're not the constructionly type...studs are supposed to be 16 inches on center. The builder saved about a third of the framing costs right there. My studs run 22-24 inches on center (and no rude jokes, please).
Since NPC went under, Nash Phillips came back and started Wilshire Homes here in the Austin area. As far as I know, they are very nice, well-built houses, in fact, we had looked at some up in Round Rock. Either he learned his lesson...or another thought occurred to me. Perhaps the people working for NPC were robbing the company blind, some sort of concerted effort by a superintendent, etc. to skim as much as they could. Imagine, if you will, NPC buys enough wood to properly frame out the entire subdivision. But the contractor, because he knows he's not going to get his money anytime soon...skims 1/3 of the 2x4s. That's a fair chunk of change, and in these cheap little houses, purchased mostly by first-time, low-income buyers, who's going to notice? Makes you wonder.
None of this really has much to do with my dilemma, except that the house is built of cheap materials which are now falling apart. Not horribly...yet. But enough that the house really needs work. Add to it my proclivity for STUFF and we have a problem. Add to it my total lack of energy when I get home and we have an even bigger problem. Add to that my ADD and ...well... Anyone who knows an ADD person knows that we tend to start a whole lot of things, but never finish them, which of course adds even more crap and inability to decide even where to start. My doctor, who's a sleep specialist (never, ever tell a sleep specialist you snore...), says he's not sure he believes in adult ADD. eh...doc? So I guess we grow out of it? Doc, that's like saying someone will grow out of their eye color. Supposedly, all my symptoms can be explained by sleep deprivation. That's fine, but I'm not sleep deprived, as long as I actually go to bed on time. I also find it hard to believe that certain behaviors specific to ADD are caused by sleep deprivation. Like starting a project or taking on a position in a group, and then losing interest, but meanwhile, you've gone gung-ho into it, and have all the tools, books, materials, etc. only to leave them behind...usually in a pile somewhere and start another project. Or, be working on a project and think about something else you could do with an item in your hand and go dig out all kinds of fabric, etc, to look at and then leave that out. Then later, you want to clean up, but literally do not know where or how to start. Inability to concentrate? Sure, I could give that one over to sleep deprivation...except that it's been going on all my life, and I've only been snoring since I got really overweight....
Any who...back to the house. In some regards, you could say I'm a type of hoarder. But I can throw things out, I can organize them, I can give them away...having the energy to do that and enough time to think about it, that's something else. Depression...did I mention that part, too? Crap. Well...and you can see just how easily I get distracted by reading this, yes?
This started out about my house and all that needs to be done...stayed tuned for part the second.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Because I'm tired of my website making me feel like a failure, too.
Hello, yet again. Blogging, or web-journaling, or whatever you'd like to call it, has never been a "regular" thing with me. But then what is? Even being "regular" is not regular for me.
But I actually pay for this website stuff. So I'm making it work (with apologies-or kudos-to Tim Gunn). Not to mention the fact that several things I've read lately have made me want to write; and not just where only my friends will see it. It might mean I take on the world, but that's what the "close comments" button is for, right?
Recently I've been thinking about conditions--the human condition, my condition...what condition my condition is in--and that prompted even more irrelevant thought, like can one person's condition have any affect on the rest of the world's condition? Can I change my condition with only thought and meditation? Fairly deep thoughts for someone who can't remember what she had for dinner last night.
Expect the unexpected!
But I actually pay for this website stuff. So I'm making it work (with apologies-or kudos-to Tim Gunn). Not to mention the fact that several things I've read lately have made me want to write; and not just where only my friends will see it. It might mean I take on the world, but that's what the "close comments" button is for, right?
Recently I've been thinking about conditions--the human condition, my condition...what condition my condition is in--and that prompted even more irrelevant thought, like can one person's condition have any affect on the rest of the world's condition? Can I change my condition with only thought and meditation? Fairly deep thoughts for someone who can't remember what she had for dinner last night.
Expect the unexpected!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)