I just finished reading a James Patterson novel that I did not enjoy nor even much like, perhaps because I kept comparing Patterson’s plot to Harper Lee’s masterpiece, To Kill a Mockingbird. An epoch novel stands alone, a pinnacle achieved once. The author who tries to emulate the writer of such a novel often falls woefully short, which is my problem with Alex Cross’s Trial, the newest James Patterson tale.
Great writing has both depth and breadth, an intensity that engages the reader, absorbs the reader into the story. The setting becomes real; the characters well-known; the action believable. There is a gnawing feeling of reading history, rather than fiction, in the words of a great novel. Patterson’s story is far too obviously just another work of fiction: thin, uneven, unbelievable, completely unremarkable, yet destined for the best-seller list. Good marketing makes a modern best-seller, not necessarily good writing.
Ben Corbett is no Atticus Finch! He lacks the courage of his convictions, the wisdom of the ages, the intensity of purpose that make Atticus unique. The judge is a mockery of justice, a racist who is acknowledged and accepted as such – and it underpins the story! Corruption is rife in the small town, deception is a way of life: the best friends of childhood are the worst enemies of adulthood. These are not good people doing bad things; these are bad people who refuse to do anything good. I would say "compare these people in this time and place with Lee's," but there is no comparison to be made. Lee knew it and wrote it well; Patterson didn't.
In telling the story of Detective Alex Cross’s family, Patterson probably means to add depth to the beloved main character in the Alex Cross series; however, the result is opposite the intention. The grandfather, Abraham, is a strong character ala Tom Robinson, but Ben Corbett is so shallow, so woefully inadequate that the strength of Abraham falls victim to the weakness of the story. Whereas Atticus has his daughter, Scout, to reflect and make meaning of life in the small Southern town, Abraham has his grand-daughter, a young woman who gets a kick out of telling a lie in the courtroom to achieve her goal. Neither Atticus nor Abraham would ever have been party to such blatant deception, but Ben Corbett lets it slip by, upset but not morally outraged. In building Alex Cross’s legacy on a lie, the strength of the character developed through the strength of his family is weakened and made ineffectual.
I am disappointed that James Patterson would write such an apparent ghost of a great classic, To Kill a Mockingbird, then corrupt the honesty of the story to achieve a goal only he can define. A good book stands on its own merit and a bad book fails for lack of it: this book can be donated to the library so other readers don’t have to pay the money to buy it themselves.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Death's Dirge
People are funny in a strange way about death: they either embrace it and allow it to pervade their lives for awhile or they turn from it, afraid that somehow it may be communicable. This past week, there have been some odd public comments in the on-line newspaper regarding the deaths of people reported in the media.
A long-time Supervisor, well-known and acknowledged for his numerous contributions to the Valley, resigned last Friday and died Wednesday. Many people reacted to the sudden death with sadness, especially since his resignation was so abrupt and his death so final: there was no retirement party, no public recognition of his contributions and/or celebration of his future leisure. The comments, however, were also indicative of people who make judgments about the way others live their lives, including the person who posited that "old, sick people should get out of the way so their replacement can have a job," and another who queried why "old, sick officials" don't resign so they don't die while still in office.
Someone, referring to the Supervisor specifically, wanted to know who "signed his resignation" as it is "obvious" to the writer that the guy was unable to sign it himself. No cause of death or circumstance of death has been released to the public, so perhaps this observer either has inside information or psychic ability. What the writer does not seem to possess, however, is an iota of tact or respect for death.
Senator Kennedy's death was expected: he was dealing with a brain tumor. Perhaps, in that instance, I can more understand the need to resign so his death does not create a political vacuum, but we all feel that we can "beat the Big C" and live to fight another day. Often, when the end comes, it comes more quickly than we are prepared to accept, so others do have to deal with what comes after, including the political process required for another Senator to fill the deceased's Senate seat.
However, it may well be that the Senator, as well as the local Supervisor, were in the same position so many of us find ourselves: our insurance coverage is terminated the day we resign and, with a pre-existing medical condition, we are no longer insurable. For a person who, for instance, suffers a stroke or is dealing with cancer, no insurance is not an option. A person who has any assets loses all of them before being awarded free medical care that is given to a person who has nothing at the time of the medical necessity. It is far better to be an illegal alien or indigent than it is to accrue assets when it comes to the cost and consequences of medical care in the US.
Am I an advocate of socialized medicine? No; I was a military dependent for 18 years and know what it is to join the cattle call for services and slog through the process to get a specific doctor to deal with a specific medical condition. In today's insurance lingo, that process is known as an HMO, which seems to stand for Hope the Medical treatment is Okayed.
I pay for PMO, but have no hope of continuing that level of insurance coverage once my 36 months expire with CalCOBRA, a plan that costs me $561/month and was literally my only option with two pre-existing medical conditions, neither of which seriously affects and/or restricts my daily life, used as cause to deny me insurance when I retired after 30 years on the job! It was time for me to move on professionally, to open a spot for the recent college graduate to fill, but it was not time for me to sit idly and wait for the Grim Reaper to knock on my front door; however, insurance coverage is far too often tied to employment, rather than to personal necessity, so no longer on the job? No insurance.
Thus, I am one of the seniors who is concerned about health care reform: it impacts me directly. I must be insured, but no reputable insurer wants to accept my premium as I have both asthma and Diabetes II, both of which are controlled by diet and exercise except in extreme circumstances. I am no less healthy than many individuals half my age, but I will pay twice as much each month to be insured based solely on age and pre-existing medical conditions. Is this fair? No; when I was half my current age, I used medical services much more often because I was much more active, accrued injuries and required surgeries. I am no more at risk today than I was then, but I pay more for insurance that covers less of the cost of medical care.
I'm still thinking about what I think about the proposed changes to medical care. My initial response is that the President wants to move too quickly to make a change that too many people will have to live with for far too long. The old saying, act in haste; repent in leisure, assures me that we do not need to make a decision today. It would still be a milestone in Obama's presidency if he were to take 3 years to define a plan that the majority can live with, rather than 3 months to publicize a plan the majority questions.
As the demographic ages, we need to adapt to the present needs, rather than continue to serve historical trends. We need as a nation to make decisions that are right for us, rather than expedient. No one wants to work until their dying day because that's the only way they can obtain medical insurance!
A long-time Supervisor, well-known and acknowledged for his numerous contributions to the Valley, resigned last Friday and died Wednesday. Many people reacted to the sudden death with sadness, especially since his resignation was so abrupt and his death so final: there was no retirement party, no public recognition of his contributions and/or celebration of his future leisure. The comments, however, were also indicative of people who make judgments about the way others live their lives, including the person who posited that "old, sick people should get out of the way so their replacement can have a job," and another who queried why "old, sick officials" don't resign so they don't die while still in office.
Someone, referring to the Supervisor specifically, wanted to know who "signed his resignation" as it is "obvious" to the writer that the guy was unable to sign it himself. No cause of death or circumstance of death has been released to the public, so perhaps this observer either has inside information or psychic ability. What the writer does not seem to possess, however, is an iota of tact or respect for death.
Senator Kennedy's death was expected: he was dealing with a brain tumor. Perhaps, in that instance, I can more understand the need to resign so his death does not create a political vacuum, but we all feel that we can "beat the Big C" and live to fight another day. Often, when the end comes, it comes more quickly than we are prepared to accept, so others do have to deal with what comes after, including the political process required for another Senator to fill the deceased's Senate seat.
However, it may well be that the Senator, as well as the local Supervisor, were in the same position so many of us find ourselves: our insurance coverage is terminated the day we resign and, with a pre-existing medical condition, we are no longer insurable. For a person who, for instance, suffers a stroke or is dealing with cancer, no insurance is not an option. A person who has any assets loses all of them before being awarded free medical care that is given to a person who has nothing at the time of the medical necessity. It is far better to be an illegal alien or indigent than it is to accrue assets when it comes to the cost and consequences of medical care in the US.
Am I an advocate of socialized medicine? No; I was a military dependent for 18 years and know what it is to join the cattle call for services and slog through the process to get a specific doctor to deal with a specific medical condition. In today's insurance lingo, that process is known as an HMO, which seems to stand for Hope the Medical treatment is Okayed.
I pay for PMO, but have no hope of continuing that level of insurance coverage once my 36 months expire with CalCOBRA, a plan that costs me $561/month and was literally my only option with two pre-existing medical conditions, neither of which seriously affects and/or restricts my daily life, used as cause to deny me insurance when I retired after 30 years on the job! It was time for me to move on professionally, to open a spot for the recent college graduate to fill, but it was not time for me to sit idly and wait for the Grim Reaper to knock on my front door; however, insurance coverage is far too often tied to employment, rather than to personal necessity, so no longer on the job? No insurance.
Thus, I am one of the seniors who is concerned about health care reform: it impacts me directly. I must be insured, but no reputable insurer wants to accept my premium as I have both asthma and Diabetes II, both of which are controlled by diet and exercise except in extreme circumstances. I am no less healthy than many individuals half my age, but I will pay twice as much each month to be insured based solely on age and pre-existing medical conditions. Is this fair? No; when I was half my current age, I used medical services much more often because I was much more active, accrued injuries and required surgeries. I am no more at risk today than I was then, but I pay more for insurance that covers less of the cost of medical care.
I'm still thinking about what I think about the proposed changes to medical care. My initial response is that the President wants to move too quickly to make a change that too many people will have to live with for far too long. The old saying, act in haste; repent in leisure, assures me that we do not need to make a decision today. It would still be a milestone in Obama's presidency if he were to take 3 years to define a plan that the majority can live with, rather than 3 months to publicize a plan the majority questions.
As the demographic ages, we need to adapt to the present needs, rather than continue to serve historical trends. We need as a nation to make decisions that are right for us, rather than expedient. No one wants to work until their dying day because that's the only way they can obtain medical insurance!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Size is a Consideration
Last night, in the middle of a computer project, my screen began flashing before it turned a totally bilious green. I shut it off, then turned it back on and the screen was no longer green: it was dark.
Knowing that I need to use my computer daily, I needed a new screen -- now -- so I drove to Wal-Mart, which seems to be one of the better electronics stores since all of the electronics-only outlets have closed their doors. Wal-Mart had an ACER computer monitor for $98, which seemed like a heck of a deal to desperate me, so after checking the screen size on the box, 15.6" wide, I bought it.
It is, indeed 15.6" wide, but the actual measurements of the actual screen differ slightly from that proud claim: 13.5" of usable screen wide, but a mere 7.75" high. The good news is that I can see documents from left to right margin without a problem, but the less-good news is that I am constantly scrolling down a page to read it. However, if I could see docs at 75%, I'm sure I could see more of a page at one time and, perhaps, the whole page at 50%.
The bottom line is that I needed a monitor, I bought a monitor, and I'm using my computer. I will adjust to the new configuration and soon believe that the only way to view pages is in wide-angle!
Knowing that I need to use my computer daily, I needed a new screen -- now -- so I drove to Wal-Mart, which seems to be one of the better electronics stores since all of the electronics-only outlets have closed their doors. Wal-Mart had an ACER computer monitor for $98, which seemed like a heck of a deal to desperate me, so after checking the screen size on the box, 15.6" wide, I bought it.
It is, indeed 15.6" wide, but the actual measurements of the actual screen differ slightly from that proud claim: 13.5" of usable screen wide, but a mere 7.75" high. The good news is that I can see documents from left to right margin without a problem, but the less-good news is that I am constantly scrolling down a page to read it. However, if I could see docs at 75%, I'm sure I could see more of a page at one time and, perhaps, the whole page at 50%.
The bottom line is that I needed a monitor, I bought a monitor, and I'm using my computer. I will adjust to the new configuration and soon believe that the only way to view pages is in wide-angle!
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Looking for Mr. Right in a He'll Do World
I’m divorced; have been for a really long time. Many men in my demographic are not comfortable with and/or actively seeking a tall (yeah, men shrink as they age at a much faster rate than women), smart (I have a graduate degree), employed (part-time, but I still have commitments), independent (I don’t ask permission) woman of … limited means to meet men, much less date them and think toward tomorrow. No matter how old they get, men want cute little girls for whom they can provide everything and get whatever they want in return, which is pretty much the definition of sycophant. When you’re in your sixties, that cute little girl may be in her 20s-30s-40s, but that’s what men want. Women like me? To be honest, I’d like a cute little man in his 40s!!! but he’s looking for a cute little girl/boy in her/his 20s.
No longer does the term “age appropriate” apply -- not to toys, clothes, or lifestyle.
Another personal failing is that I read trashy romance novels (TRNs), so I have expectations. I do want a man who could change a diaper if he had to do so, or cook a meal, or clean the house, or do the laundry, and will take out the trash on collection day. I want a man who can do the grocery shopping, even if it includes a “feminine product,” which at this stage of the game is most likely Depends. I want a man who never asks me “What’s for dinner,” but welcomes me home with savory sauces bubbling merrily on the still-clean stove. I don’t mind doing dishes, but it’s kinda fun to have someone to talk to while you’re washing/drying/putting away the dinner detritus. Mia is a great listener, but she seldom has much to say: I want a man who not only listens, but engages in the conversation, too.
I want a man who wants me. Just me. Not pretentions or fantasies, but me, warts, weight issues, and all other pre-existing conditions. I need to be enough for him, not leave him wanting more, nor demanding more than I have to give. We all come with baggage, so I have to accept him and he has to accept me just the way we are. Just the way we snore. Just the way we’ve bored ourselves into comforting routines that we’ll adjust to accommodate another person, but probably not change altogether.
I was away this weekend, putting in long days with family and having a ball, but I booked a hotel so I could have some downtime, some quiet time, and I brought a TRN to read, instead of turning on the TV. It’s a collection of stories by 4 different authors and the first one starts quickly and involves a quirky character I think I’ll enjoy because we have qualities in common. She meets a man (remember Trashy Romance Novel) she compares to Prince Charming, and then totally captures the dating scene for single women:
“And this is what I know about princes--the prince is probably gay, I’d have to deal with his supercilious mother, the queen, I don’t admire men in tights, and if I want a horse I can buy myself a whole damned stable.” (Cathy Lamb, Whale Island)
The only change I have to make to that description of single woman society in the sixties is that instead of the supercilious mother, I have to deal with the saintly dead wife and/or the totally manipulative bitch ex-wife, neither of whom is a step up from a supercilious mother, believe me.
I thought about trying my hand at writing TRNs for the more mature woman, celebrating that she, too, can enjoy the challenge to find Mr. Right in a He'll Do world, but the results always ended with a funereal undertone. I lost my enthusiasm for the project and decided to stick with the happily ever after stories already on the market and live vicariously through the youth who read them.
No longer does the term “age appropriate” apply -- not to toys, clothes, or lifestyle.
Another personal failing is that I read trashy romance novels (TRNs), so I have expectations. I do want a man who could change a diaper if he had to do so, or cook a meal, or clean the house, or do the laundry, and will take out the trash on collection day. I want a man who can do the grocery shopping, even if it includes a “feminine product,” which at this stage of the game is most likely Depends. I want a man who never asks me “What’s for dinner,” but welcomes me home with savory sauces bubbling merrily on the still-clean stove. I don’t mind doing dishes, but it’s kinda fun to have someone to talk to while you’re washing/drying/putting away the dinner detritus. Mia is a great listener, but she seldom has much to say: I want a man who not only listens, but engages in the conversation, too.
I want a man who wants me. Just me. Not pretentions or fantasies, but me, warts, weight issues, and all other pre-existing conditions. I need to be enough for him, not leave him wanting more, nor demanding more than I have to give. We all come with baggage, so I have to accept him and he has to accept me just the way we are. Just the way we snore. Just the way we’ve bored ourselves into comforting routines that we’ll adjust to accommodate another person, but probably not change altogether.
I was away this weekend, putting in long days with family and having a ball, but I booked a hotel so I could have some downtime, some quiet time, and I brought a TRN to read, instead of turning on the TV. It’s a collection of stories by 4 different authors and the first one starts quickly and involves a quirky character I think I’ll enjoy because we have qualities in common. She meets a man (remember Trashy Romance Novel) she compares to Prince Charming, and then totally captures the dating scene for single women:
“And this is what I know about princes--the prince is probably gay, I’d have to deal with his supercilious mother, the queen, I don’t admire men in tights, and if I want a horse I can buy myself a whole damned stable.” (Cathy Lamb, Whale Island)
The only change I have to make to that description of single woman society in the sixties is that instead of the supercilious mother, I have to deal with the saintly dead wife and/or the totally manipulative bitch ex-wife, neither of whom is a step up from a supercilious mother, believe me.
I thought about trying my hand at writing TRNs for the more mature woman, celebrating that she, too, can enjoy the challenge to find Mr. Right in a He'll Do world, but the results always ended with a funereal undertone. I lost my enthusiasm for the project and decided to stick with the happily ever after stories already on the market and live vicariously through the youth who read them.
Silence is Permission
Note: this is a blog that I somehow did not post after I wrote it. However, the underlying philosophy continues to be a national issue, so I decided to post it this morning.
There are two issues with which I have issues this week: the first is the Glenn Beck controversy and the second is the involvement of the organization ColorofChange in the Glenn Beck controversy. First and foremost, I believe in freedom of speech, especially as the actor, Michael Douglas, delivers the message in the movie The American President: those who rile us up with divergent views are the ones whom we must support most vigorously. It is through lively dissension that we affirm the rights provided to all citizens by our founding fathers.
When my students read The Crucible, they really do not comprehend the premise Arthur Miller used as the inciting incident, the McCarthy "better dead than red" campaign that mirrored so much of what happened in Salem, Massachusettes during what came to be known as The Salem Witch Trials. In Salem, young girls named residents of Salem as witches, panic ensued, lives were destroyed, the faith of the community was shaken, and the strength of our fledgling democracy was challenged. During the 1950s, a similar event occurred, piloted by Senator Joe McCarthy, who outed rich and famous people as communists without a shred of evidence, creating panic in the press and guilt by association. The fear engendered by that historical event lives today in the entertainment industry: few are brave enough to stand up and admit that s/he voted against Senator Obama in the last presidential election. Anyone who admits a lack of support for a candidate whose qualifications and credentials are, at best, limited is branded a racist in the media and the offers of employment suddenly vanish.
In California, about twenty-five years ago, it was the McMartin Pre-School debaucle wherein allegedly 125 children were sexually molested by the family who owned the preschool. It took time, but all of the charges collapsed; however, not before the McMartin family was destroyed by overly-zealous prosecutors who used the publicity as a springboard for advancing their own careers. The evidence was manufactured, with children carefully guided into conversations about "bad" adults inappropriately touching their "private places," with dolls used as props to point to those places if the children did not understand. Little children are vulnerable to suggestion and the testimony seemed on the surface to be overwhelming, but was nothing but cheesecloth that could not withstand the test of time.
Glenn Beck asserts that President Obama is a racist, basing his belief on his observations of the President's conduct both during the campaign and his newly-begun tenure in the White House. Additionally, Beck cannot process that the President of the United States, regardless of who occupies the office, actually told the world audience that the police acted "stupidly" in arresting a person who became combative during a response to a call from a neighbor about two unknown men apparently breaking into a nearby home. Because the President claims to be African-American and the homeowner is African-American, but the responding police officers are white, The President's off-the-cuff remark did, indeed, seem racially biased.
Believe what you will: that's the right we defend in this country. I never have to agree with what you say or believe, but in this country, I accept your words and your belief as your right to freedom of speech. However, not so the organization ColorofChange, which has contacted the advertisers whose commercials air during the commercial breaks on Glenn Beck's TV show. The bottom line for ColorofChange is that advertisers either discontinue supporting the Beck show vis a vis their advertising dollars or deal with the consequences from ColorofChange. It's always about the money, and if the advertisers don't come into line, there's the additional taint of racism to go along with the financial devastation and bad publicity.
An article in the LA Times contains the following information:
ColorofChange.org quickly targeted companies whose ads had appeared during Beck's show, telling them what he had said and seeking a commitment to drop him. The goal is to make Beck a liability, said James Rucker, the organization's executive director.
"They have a toxic asset," Rucker said. "They can either clean it up or get rid of it."
ColorofChange interferes with the democratic process by making the decision for the advertisers with implied financial and political consequences for failure to withdraw their support. Racism is, by definition, based on the assumption that one's own ethnicity is superior, a status implied by the actions of ColorofChange. Sometimes, if a problem is ignored, it goes away; however, if a spotlight is focused on it, the problem gets far more publicity than it would have without all the publicity. (Note: the issue died a natural media death when Beck counter-attacked: ColorofChange, your 15 minutes are up!)
Major advertisers should be standing up for freedom of speech, taking ColorofChange to task for not supporting freedom of speech, rather than supporting their tactic of targeting anyone who questions the political organizations and decisions of this country as racists. Open debate diffuses political dissension because citizens have not just the right to be heard, but the personal responsibility to speak out. Sometimes, it's not about the money: it's about the principles. Rather than labeling selected individuals who stand up and speak out as "whack jobs," we should all be wearing proudly OUR "whack job" buttons as we speak openly and often and vigorously in public about what we believe, why we believe it, and question decisions that do not appear to be in the best interests of WE, the people. Our silence is their permission.
Follow up thoughts: the issue of racism is going to dog the President throughout his tenure as individuals seek to ascribe their racial feelings into the political environment, such as President Carter's comment that the individual who challenges the President's policies is a racist. However, I heartily applaud President Obama's comment to Dave Letterman that he was black before the election ... . Enough said.
There are two issues with which I have issues this week: the first is the Glenn Beck controversy and the second is the involvement of the organization ColorofChange in the Glenn Beck controversy. First and foremost, I believe in freedom of speech, especially as the actor, Michael Douglas, delivers the message in the movie The American President: those who rile us up with divergent views are the ones whom we must support most vigorously. It is through lively dissension that we affirm the rights provided to all citizens by our founding fathers.
When my students read The Crucible, they really do not comprehend the premise Arthur Miller used as the inciting incident, the McCarthy "better dead than red" campaign that mirrored so much of what happened in Salem, Massachusettes during what came to be known as The Salem Witch Trials. In Salem, young girls named residents of Salem as witches, panic ensued, lives were destroyed, the faith of the community was shaken, and the strength of our fledgling democracy was challenged. During the 1950s, a similar event occurred, piloted by Senator Joe McCarthy, who outed rich and famous people as communists without a shred of evidence, creating panic in the press and guilt by association. The fear engendered by that historical event lives today in the entertainment industry: few are brave enough to stand up and admit that s/he voted against Senator Obama in the last presidential election. Anyone who admits a lack of support for a candidate whose qualifications and credentials are, at best, limited is branded a racist in the media and the offers of employment suddenly vanish.
In California, about twenty-five years ago, it was the McMartin Pre-School debaucle wherein allegedly 125 children were sexually molested by the family who owned the preschool. It took time, but all of the charges collapsed; however, not before the McMartin family was destroyed by overly-zealous prosecutors who used the publicity as a springboard for advancing their own careers. The evidence was manufactured, with children carefully guided into conversations about "bad" adults inappropriately touching their "private places," with dolls used as props to point to those places if the children did not understand. Little children are vulnerable to suggestion and the testimony seemed on the surface to be overwhelming, but was nothing but cheesecloth that could not withstand the test of time.
Glenn Beck asserts that President Obama is a racist, basing his belief on his observations of the President's conduct both during the campaign and his newly-begun tenure in the White House. Additionally, Beck cannot process that the President of the United States, regardless of who occupies the office, actually told the world audience that the police acted "stupidly" in arresting a person who became combative during a response to a call from a neighbor about two unknown men apparently breaking into a nearby home. Because the President claims to be African-American and the homeowner is African-American, but the responding police officers are white, The President's off-the-cuff remark did, indeed, seem racially biased.
Believe what you will: that's the right we defend in this country. I never have to agree with what you say or believe, but in this country, I accept your words and your belief as your right to freedom of speech. However, not so the organization ColorofChange, which has contacted the advertisers whose commercials air during the commercial breaks on Glenn Beck's TV show. The bottom line for ColorofChange is that advertisers either discontinue supporting the Beck show vis a vis their advertising dollars or deal with the consequences from ColorofChange. It's always about the money, and if the advertisers don't come into line, there's the additional taint of racism to go along with the financial devastation and bad publicity.
An article in the LA Times contains the following information:
ColorofChange.org quickly targeted companies whose ads had appeared during Beck's show, telling them what he had said and seeking a commitment to drop him. The goal is to make Beck a liability, said James Rucker, the organization's executive director.
"They have a toxic asset," Rucker said. "They can either clean it up or get rid of it."
ColorofChange interferes with the democratic process by making the decision for the advertisers with implied financial and political consequences for failure to withdraw their support. Racism is, by definition, based on the assumption that one's own ethnicity is superior, a status implied by the actions of ColorofChange. Sometimes, if a problem is ignored, it goes away; however, if a spotlight is focused on it, the problem gets far more publicity than it would have without all the publicity. (Note: the issue died a natural media death when Beck counter-attacked: ColorofChange, your 15 minutes are up!)
Major advertisers should be standing up for freedom of speech, taking ColorofChange to task for not supporting freedom of speech, rather than supporting their tactic of targeting anyone who questions the political organizations and decisions of this country as racists. Open debate diffuses political dissension because citizens have not just the right to be heard, but the personal responsibility to speak out. Sometimes, it's not about the money: it's about the principles. Rather than labeling selected individuals who stand up and speak out as "whack jobs," we should all be wearing proudly OUR "whack job" buttons as we speak openly and often and vigorously in public about what we believe, why we believe it, and question decisions that do not appear to be in the best interests of WE, the people. Our silence is their permission.
Follow up thoughts: the issue of racism is going to dog the President throughout his tenure as individuals seek to ascribe their racial feelings into the political environment, such as President Carter's comment that the individual who challenges the President's policies is a racist. However, I heartily applaud President Obama's comment to Dave Letterman that he was black before the election ... . Enough said.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
SB2PS = 5H
The plan was to leave SB at noon to avoid the worst of the Sunday travel traffic, so I pulled out of my brother's shop at high noon, drove to the main street, and could not believe the long line of densely-packed vehicles! As I waited in stunned silence for my right turn into the traffic lane, it became "traffic on the 5's" on KNXT 1070. Believe it or not, a small plane had made an emergency landing on the freeway that is parallel to my brother's business. Really. Three cars had run into the plane and damaged it, as well as their vehicles, but no injury to any of the people involved. Just traffic rerouted off the freeway and through a very small town, and currently at a standstill.
It took me 45 minutes to travel from Goleta to Montecito, a 15-minute drive in heavy traffic; then, it took me another 45 minutes to travel from Montecito to Ventura, a 20 minute drive. At that point, I had the internal conversation: do I pull off, find a restaurant, and eat a nice Sunday dinner before traveling farther east, or do I take my chances and deal with what lies ahead? It can always get a whole lot worse before it gets even a little bit better.
I next encountered a major accident at the 134/405 junction: all lanes of traffic stopped, so everyone bailing to the left and getting on the 134, which was my direction. On the 210, an accident happened perhaps 2 minutes in front of me, resulting in an overturned vehicle across 3 lanes of traffic. I was early enough to go to the far left shoulder and around it, but I was hearing about the traffic tie-up for the rest of the drive home, which included two more traffic tie-ups, one for an car engine fire and the other for a brush fire!!
The LA freeways are not for the faint of heart on a good day, but on a bad day, they intimidate the strongest daredevils to challenge the asphalt and emerge unscathed, especially in the mile or so immediately after the obstruction, when the road-racers who were clipping along about 80-85 have to make up the time they lost waiting for the lanes to clear. They floor it, weave in and out of lanes, and somehow make it out alive most of the time.
I arrived home at 5 pm to be greeted by Mia, whom I had left home with far too much food/water for 3 days alone. Her greeting was the same I get every day I go out to run errands or go to work and then return: happy butt wiggling, some vigorous head petting, belly thumping, and dog kisses before she goes back to her floor pillow for a nap. Would that leaving people to fend for themselves could be that easy.
It took me 45 minutes to travel from Goleta to Montecito, a 15-minute drive in heavy traffic; then, it took me another 45 minutes to travel from Montecito to Ventura, a 20 minute drive. At that point, I had the internal conversation: do I pull off, find a restaurant, and eat a nice Sunday dinner before traveling farther east, or do I take my chances and deal with what lies ahead? It can always get a whole lot worse before it gets even a little bit better.
I next encountered a major accident at the 134/405 junction: all lanes of traffic stopped, so everyone bailing to the left and getting on the 134, which was my direction. On the 210, an accident happened perhaps 2 minutes in front of me, resulting in an overturned vehicle across 3 lanes of traffic. I was early enough to go to the far left shoulder and around it, but I was hearing about the traffic tie-up for the rest of the drive home, which included two more traffic tie-ups, one for an car engine fire and the other for a brush fire!!
The LA freeways are not for the faint of heart on a good day, but on a bad day, they intimidate the strongest daredevils to challenge the asphalt and emerge unscathed, especially in the mile or so immediately after the obstruction, when the road-racers who were clipping along about 80-85 have to make up the time they lost waiting for the lanes to clear. They floor it, weave in and out of lanes, and somehow make it out alive most of the time.
I arrived home at 5 pm to be greeted by Mia, whom I had left home with far too much food/water for 3 days alone. Her greeting was the same I get every day I go out to run errands or go to work and then return: happy butt wiggling, some vigorous head petting, belly thumping, and dog kisses before she goes back to her floor pillow for a nap. Would that leaving people to fend for themselves could be that easy.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Shank's Mare
Can you remember kids walking to school? I do. For the younger children, parents walked with them, sort of like a leg-pool of one parent walking a small group to the school, making sure it was clear to cross the streets and adhering to all the other walking rules. When the children got into the upper elementary grades, they got to walk by themselves because by then, they knew the way to and from school, as well as all the safety rules, OR they had received a bike from Santa and could pedal themselves to school and home.
Of course, that was back when drivers were many fewer, including moms who stayed home and daddies who drove to work. The drivers who were in the cars and on the way to work concentrated on driving: no cell phones, no on-board videos playing, no putting on make-up, reading the paper, sending a text message. Drivers were content to just drive the car to work.
Today, one of the local school districts announced that no buses will be available for high school students: walk, carpool, ride a bike, or take the city bus. The district had to make many challenging decisions to work with the funds that are available, so some levels of the multi-sports' programs have been cut ... and kids are not going to ride the (school) bus to school.
There are guidelines for the younger kids: Students in lower grades will be bussed if they live farther from schools than the following distances:
• 1 mile, grades K-3.
• 2 miles, grades 4-5.
• 2.5 miles, grades 6-8.
The person who wrote this news release evidently is not aware that one rides a bus, but the kiss given before entering the schoolyard is fondly called a buss: the students in the lower grades are going to be transported (bused), not kissed good-bye (bussed) by the district.
Parents are up in arms: MY kid is NOT going to walk when ... it's hot, it's cold ... it's too early in the morning ... there's too much traffic ... fill in the blank. On the other hand, walking is healthy and this Valley has one of the highest rates of Diabetes II in SoCal, so the exercise will benefit the children's health issues. Many of the children are also fat, one of the first differences I noted between where I used to live and living here, so walking to school may trim and tone children who are carrying too much weight on their young bodies.
One parent wants to know how the family can afford to buy a car so their child can get to and from school, an expensive solution to an affordable problem: buy them a city bus pass, buy the child a bike, car-pool with a neighbor, OR walk with them on the first day of school so they know how to get there the next day. No one "has" to buy a high school student a car!
We are a nation of lazy people and over-indulged children who need to "go green," as well as live within a budget. Bus transportation has always been free on the surface, but OUR TAXES pay for those buses and because the people refuse a tax increase to pay for all the free services available in the Great State of Caly-phone-ya, WE ARE BROKE.
Get over the personal inconvenience and retrain your child to be a responsible (junior) citizen who can get to school and back home again, one way or another.
Of course, that was back when drivers were many fewer, including moms who stayed home and daddies who drove to work. The drivers who were in the cars and on the way to work concentrated on driving: no cell phones, no on-board videos playing, no putting on make-up, reading the paper, sending a text message. Drivers were content to just drive the car to work.
Today, one of the local school districts announced that no buses will be available for high school students: walk, carpool, ride a bike, or take the city bus. The district had to make many challenging decisions to work with the funds that are available, so some levels of the multi-sports' programs have been cut ... and kids are not going to ride the (school) bus to school.
There are guidelines for the younger kids: Students in lower grades will be bussed if they live farther from schools than the following distances:
• 1 mile, grades K-3.
• 2 miles, grades 4-5.
• 2.5 miles, grades 6-8.
The person who wrote this news release evidently is not aware that one rides a bus, but the kiss given before entering the schoolyard is fondly called a buss: the students in the lower grades are going to be transported (bused), not kissed good-bye (bussed) by the district.
Parents are up in arms: MY kid is NOT going to walk when ... it's hot, it's cold ... it's too early in the morning ... there's too much traffic ... fill in the blank. On the other hand, walking is healthy and this Valley has one of the highest rates of Diabetes II in SoCal, so the exercise will benefit the children's health issues. Many of the children are also fat, one of the first differences I noted between where I used to live and living here, so walking to school may trim and tone children who are carrying too much weight on their young bodies.
One parent wants to know how the family can afford to buy a car so their child can get to and from school, an expensive solution to an affordable problem: buy them a city bus pass, buy the child a bike, car-pool with a neighbor, OR walk with them on the first day of school so they know how to get there the next day. No one "has" to buy a high school student a car!
We are a nation of lazy people and over-indulged children who need to "go green," as well as live within a budget. Bus transportation has always been free on the surface, but OUR TAXES pay for those buses and because the people refuse a tax increase to pay for all the free services available in the Great State of Caly-phone-ya, WE ARE BROKE.
Get over the personal inconvenience and retrain your child to be a responsible (junior) citizen who can get to school and back home again, one way or another.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Sign of the Times
As I drove home from the first day of the new school year, I passed a business that proudly brags on a colorful sign out front that there is a MANGER'S SPICAL in progress.
I'll be skipping that opportunity because if the sign reflects the MANGER's skill level, woe be unto anyone who falls prey to the over-worked, under-paid staff working for said MANGER!
I'll be skipping that opportunity because if the sign reflects the MANGER's skill level, woe be unto anyone who falls prey to the over-worked, under-paid staff working for said MANGER!
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Articulate
I've been holed up in the office for 2 days, finishing the book editing and prepping for the first day of school ... tomorrow! The farthest thing from my mind has been the news, so when I adjourned to the bedroom to fold clothes and put fresh sheets on the bed, I turned on the tiny TV to ketchup on what's happening outside the office.
"As of yet," the news reader said 3 separate times in her report about a child abduction. What the heck does "as of yet" convey besides the inability to construct a meaningful phrase to say that there is no suspect at this time.
A concerned parent was interviewed for her immediate reaction to the situation. Perhaps she was nervous about appearing in a TV interview and unsure of what she wanted to say, but she repeated "I mean" at least a half dozen times. If she didn't mean it, she probably wouldn't say it, so repeating "I mean" distracts from what she means, rather than enhances it.
The rhythm of the interview became "as of yet, I mean, I mean; as of yet, I mean, I mean; as of yet, I mean, I mean." With just the right melody, there's great potential for a hit rap, right?
"As of yet," the news reader said 3 separate times in her report about a child abduction. What the heck does "as of yet" convey besides the inability to construct a meaningful phrase to say that there is no suspect at this time.
A concerned parent was interviewed for her immediate reaction to the situation. Perhaps she was nervous about appearing in a TV interview and unsure of what she wanted to say, but she repeated "I mean" at least a half dozen times. If she didn't mean it, she probably wouldn't say it, so repeating "I mean" distracts from what she means, rather than enhances it.
The rhythm of the interview became "as of yet, I mean, I mean; as of yet, I mean, I mean; as of yet, I mean, I mean." With just the right melody, there's great potential for a hit rap, right?
Another Person on My Path
God puts people on my path and invites me to take a walk with them. Last weekend, I talked with a friend about the feeling that my life has had limited significance, with no expectation that anything profound has come of it. I was referring to Judge Sotomayor, whose life had a rocky beginning but appears to be headed for a stunning ending: she’s been a student, a low-level legal employee; a lawyer; a judge; and now sits on the Supreme Court. It’s not that my life has been marked with “just” accomplishes—I’m just a teacher; just a mother; just a friend—but that there is little significant accomplishment to add to that. You know, the ta-da at the end of the event.
Well, when you voice those feelings, Someone hears them and responds.
This past week I received a phone call from a former student from w-a-a-a-y back in the day, a student with whom I’ve maintained contact since the 1980s. He has lived an incredibly diverse life, some of which is directly tied to his enrollment in a GATE (Gifted and Talented Education) class for which I was the teacher. The students were academically gifted, but had lots of creative energy that was going untapped, even though the majority of them were also heavily involved in student activities. One day, as I was gushing about live theatre, a student asked me just what’s so great about a live performance? I responded that you won’t know until you’ve experienced it. He said, “Well, then, let’s do a play.”
Of course we discussed the challenges of that goal, as well as the logistics: I believe that if students want it, they have to do it. I have no problem with canceling any student event that is dumped into the teacher’s or parent’s lap. Thus, if they began it, they would finish it. Of course we developed a strategical plan: if nothing else, I am a planner. Before I walk into the classroom, I have the entire semester planned (not set in stone, but planned). After a week-long discussion of the pros and cons of the endeavor, and after my promise to provide any support within my means, I handed over $75 from my wallet and said, “Let’s do this.”
It was the first play at the high school–ever—and it kicked some serious ass. I served as the director because someone had to occupy that title, but the students put on the performance. Other teachers became involved here and there, curious about how we were going to pull this off. Of the plays I offered the students as possibles, they selected Arsenic and Old Lace, and you can’t go wrong with that little gem. Long story short: it was one of the crowning moments of my career, but also the start of careers for some of those students!
Last week’s phone call updated me on some of the students who shared that theatrical experience with the two of us and then turned to his current acting career; yes, he’s a card-carrying professional actor, a career that began on our high school stage. His acting coach is a well-known “old-timer” from back in the day who has written a book on acting and needs someone to gently edit it. As my former student explained to me, “It’s a great book, but the skills need [my] guidance.”
I talked to the author directly, assured him that I would not change, just enhance, his manuscript, and that I would be delighted to accept this job as a favor to my former student. When the author felt that he had to give me something for my trouble, I told him that he can write a check to one of the charities I support in the Valley: they need the money to help people who need their services.
The deal struck, he sent me the manuscript.
Yep, He put people into my path and it’s been a delightful experience. The manuscript is an incredible teaching tool for others to learn about life skills, using acting as the vehicle to achieve what we all want in/from our lives. Of course, being the somewhat inwardly-turned person that I am in my personal life, I benefited from reading about how actors have to bring all that past experience to the forefront of their lives and use it to be the character they are playing. I can do that in my teaching, but I’ve never been able to do that in my life – which reflects back to the conversation with my friend about lacking the feeling of significance in my life. I have never been able to accept the old teaching saw that if I reach just one student each year, I have done my job well: one is not a number high enough for me.
If/when the author of the book publishes it, I’ll tell you his name and the title so you can look for it at Amazon dot com or one of the bookstores in the mall. Right now, he’s pinched for time to print some working copies of it as one of his former students is going to preview it in an acting class she teaches.
The chain of teacher/student stands strong, which is, perhaps, the significance of my life.
Well, when you voice those feelings, Someone hears them and responds.
This past week I received a phone call from a former student from w-a-a-a-y back in the day, a student with whom I’ve maintained contact since the 1980s. He has lived an incredibly diverse life, some of which is directly tied to his enrollment in a GATE (Gifted and Talented Education) class for which I was the teacher. The students were academically gifted, but had lots of creative energy that was going untapped, even though the majority of them were also heavily involved in student activities. One day, as I was gushing about live theatre, a student asked me just what’s so great about a live performance? I responded that you won’t know until you’ve experienced it. He said, “Well, then, let’s do a play.”
Of course we discussed the challenges of that goal, as well as the logistics: I believe that if students want it, they have to do it. I have no problem with canceling any student event that is dumped into the teacher’s or parent’s lap. Thus, if they began it, they would finish it. Of course we developed a strategical plan: if nothing else, I am a planner. Before I walk into the classroom, I have the entire semester planned (not set in stone, but planned). After a week-long discussion of the pros and cons of the endeavor, and after my promise to provide any support within my means, I handed over $75 from my wallet and said, “Let’s do this.”
It was the first play at the high school–ever—and it kicked some serious ass. I served as the director because someone had to occupy that title, but the students put on the performance. Other teachers became involved here and there, curious about how we were going to pull this off. Of the plays I offered the students as possibles, they selected Arsenic and Old Lace, and you can’t go wrong with that little gem. Long story short: it was one of the crowning moments of my career, but also the start of careers for some of those students!
Last week’s phone call updated me on some of the students who shared that theatrical experience with the two of us and then turned to his current acting career; yes, he’s a card-carrying professional actor, a career that began on our high school stage. His acting coach is a well-known “old-timer” from back in the day who has written a book on acting and needs someone to gently edit it. As my former student explained to me, “It’s a great book, but the skills need [my] guidance.”
I talked to the author directly, assured him that I would not change, just enhance, his manuscript, and that I would be delighted to accept this job as a favor to my former student. When the author felt that he had to give me something for my trouble, I told him that he can write a check to one of the charities I support in the Valley: they need the money to help people who need their services.
The deal struck, he sent me the manuscript.
Yep, He put people into my path and it’s been a delightful experience. The manuscript is an incredible teaching tool for others to learn about life skills, using acting as the vehicle to achieve what we all want in/from our lives. Of course, being the somewhat inwardly-turned person that I am in my personal life, I benefited from reading about how actors have to bring all that past experience to the forefront of their lives and use it to be the character they are playing. I can do that in my teaching, but I’ve never been able to do that in my life – which reflects back to the conversation with my friend about lacking the feeling of significance in my life. I have never been able to accept the old teaching saw that if I reach just one student each year, I have done my job well: one is not a number high enough for me.
If/when the author of the book publishes it, I’ll tell you his name and the title so you can look for it at Amazon dot com or one of the bookstores in the mall. Right now, he’s pinched for time to print some working copies of it as one of his former students is going to preview it in an acting class she teaches.
The chain of teacher/student stands strong, which is, perhaps, the significance of my life.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Anticipatory Aging
Last weekend, I was in La Jolla for a visit that included a favor for an elderly woman who lives in the same complex as my friend. M's apartment is on the top floor of her building, across the street from the seal cove, and the view is spectacular; however, M always keeps the blinds closed. Because I was assembling and then installing a small TV, I needed to see what I was doing and asked her if I could open the blinds.
Horrified, M said "NO" because the sun will fade her furniture! At age 95, one of her last concerns should be the sun fading her furniture when she could be wallowing in the most glorious view of the ocean from Mexico to Laguna from the window of her apartment. However, I opened the blinds, completed the task, and then reluctantly closed the blinds as directed.
I was sharing this story with a friend yesterday with an addendum that had him howling with laughter. I said that if I live to age 95, I'm going to live my life on the wild side, throwing caution and furniture fading to the wind. As a matter of fact, I continued, I'm going to have wild unprotected monkey sex and smoke a cigarette in the afterglow! Fading furniture be damned.
His addition to the picture: he'd open the blinds, stand stark naked in front of them, and literally let it ALL hang out!
Part of me would love to live to 95 just so I could anticipate this moment in time.
Horrified, M said "NO" because the sun will fade her furniture! At age 95, one of her last concerns should be the sun fading her furniture when she could be wallowing in the most glorious view of the ocean from Mexico to Laguna from the window of her apartment. However, I opened the blinds, completed the task, and then reluctantly closed the blinds as directed.
I was sharing this story with a friend yesterday with an addendum that had him howling with laughter. I said that if I live to age 95, I'm going to live my life on the wild side, throwing caution and furniture fading to the wind. As a matter of fact, I continued, I'm going to have wild unprotected monkey sex and smoke a cigarette in the afterglow! Fading furniture be damned.
His addition to the picture: he'd open the blinds, stand stark naked in front of them, and literally let it ALL hang out!
Part of me would love to live to 95 just so I could anticipate this moment in time.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
A Comment is not always a Call to Action
Tiger Wood commented during an interview about the final round of play at a recent tournament he ultimately won: if his opponent had not been on the clock, he would have played better. Some people play better under pressure and others don't: this opponent was negatively affected by both the pressure of being in contention with Tiger Wood and being on the clock to speed up his play. These things happen, observed Tiger: it's unfortunate; next question? I didn't hear any implied criticism, yet it's rumored that Tiger will be fined for criticizing the official who started the clock as per the rules that govern golf. It is further rumored that the official is "demanding" an apology from Tiger!
You'd think Tiger's observation was a confrontation worthy of another beer summit!
In another incident this past weekend, Secretary of State Clinton curtly responded to an ill-stated question from a reporter during a news conference. The way the question was posed, it assumed that former President Clinton was involved in the decision-making process, rather than current Secretary of State Clinton, a mistake that Secretary Clinton forcefully corrected. Sure, Clinton's comment could have been less caustic, but her response is not a reason to create an international incident where none exists.
Our skin is too thin when a comment is construed as criticism that requires a call to action. It's okay to respond to Tiger's observation and point out the rule upon which the decision to start the clock was based, but a response does not need to become a crusade to right what is so obviously not a wrong, such as another incident that happened locally.
This past weekend, a group of males in their 20s went out on the town and consumed too much alcohol before returning to their hotel. A couple of the men decided that a quick dip in the pool would help them sober up before going to the room and sleeping it off. One of the men never made it out of the pool: when the guys realized he hadn't returned to the room with them and found him at the bottom of the pool, it was too late to save his life. Swimming off a drunk is never a good idea, and it can end badly; however, it's just a drunk swimming accident. The hotel management, perhaps in an effort to combat death by drunk drowning, the first at this hotel, is no longer going to allow 24/7 access to the swimming pool, a total over-reaction to this incident.
Life happens, some of it good and some of it not so good, but our society used to be more pragmatic: deal with it and move on. We cannot continue to go through life looking for insult where none is intended and/or change the way we do business based on a single incident that ends badly. We all need to learn to change what needs to be changed, accept what cannot be changed, but more importantly, to exercise the good judgment to know the difference.
You'd think Tiger's observation was a confrontation worthy of another beer summit!
In another incident this past weekend, Secretary of State Clinton curtly responded to an ill-stated question from a reporter during a news conference. The way the question was posed, it assumed that former President Clinton was involved in the decision-making process, rather than current Secretary of State Clinton, a mistake that Secretary Clinton forcefully corrected. Sure, Clinton's comment could have been less caustic, but her response is not a reason to create an international incident where none exists.
Our skin is too thin when a comment is construed as criticism that requires a call to action. It's okay to respond to Tiger's observation and point out the rule upon which the decision to start the clock was based, but a response does not need to become a crusade to right what is so obviously not a wrong, such as another incident that happened locally.
This past weekend, a group of males in their 20s went out on the town and consumed too much alcohol before returning to their hotel. A couple of the men decided that a quick dip in the pool would help them sober up before going to the room and sleeping it off. One of the men never made it out of the pool: when the guys realized he hadn't returned to the room with them and found him at the bottom of the pool, it was too late to save his life. Swimming off a drunk is never a good idea, and it can end badly; however, it's just a drunk swimming accident. The hotel management, perhaps in an effort to combat death by drunk drowning, the first at this hotel, is no longer going to allow 24/7 access to the swimming pool, a total over-reaction to this incident.
Life happens, some of it good and some of it not so good, but our society used to be more pragmatic: deal with it and move on. We cannot continue to go through life looking for insult where none is intended and/or change the way we do business based on a single incident that ends badly. We all need to learn to change what needs to be changed, accept what cannot be changed, but more importantly, to exercise the good judgment to know the difference.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Negotiations? I Don't Think So!
Priceline says I can get a hotel in SB for up to 80% off: name my price and voila! It's a done deal.
Not.
I've been trying for 4 days to find a reasonably priced hotel in my home town so I can have some privacy and quiet during a family visit next weekend. I want to arrive on Friday, depart on Sunday, and pay about $100/night. I offered $125/night for rooms allegedly priced at $159-189, thinking that was both reasonable and fair: no deal. On the website, I found an offer for a nearby college town hotel, 2-star, which is all I need, going for $97/night, but I was locked out of that deal because I had bid on the other page of the website!
No slight to Fess Parker's beautiful facility on the beach, but I don't have $400/night to spend on a hotel. I'm going to be at my family home most of the time, even for meals, so all I need is a place to sleep, and I'm not willing to pay more than about $150/night for it.
I've given up on Priceline: Bill Shatner failed to negotiate a deal I can live with. I'll go look at some of the chain hotel websites and see what I can on my own and within my price range. Follow-up: I did go on-line and found a hotel with free internet, coffee in the room and a continental b'fast for $80/night. Granted, it's about 25 miles from my family home, but on the freeway? Piece of cake.
Not.
I've been trying for 4 days to find a reasonably priced hotel in my home town so I can have some privacy and quiet during a family visit next weekend. I want to arrive on Friday, depart on Sunday, and pay about $100/night. I offered $125/night for rooms allegedly priced at $159-189, thinking that was both reasonable and fair: no deal. On the website, I found an offer for a nearby college town hotel, 2-star, which is all I need, going for $97/night, but I was locked out of that deal because I had bid on the other page of the website!
No slight to Fess Parker's beautiful facility on the beach, but I don't have $400/night to spend on a hotel. I'm going to be at my family home most of the time, even for meals, so all I need is a place to sleep, and I'm not willing to pay more than about $150/night for it.
I've given up on Priceline: Bill Shatner failed to negotiate a deal I can live with. I'll go look at some of the chain hotel websites and see what I can on my own and within my price range. Follow-up: I did go on-line and found a hotel with free internet, coffee in the room and a continental b'fast for $80/night. Granted, it's about 25 miles from my family home, but on the freeway? Piece of cake.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Hot Heaven
The craving began when I read one of the staff blogs at the local on-line newspaper site about favorite meals. I've never craved a red bean burrito and would not even think to put it on the list, but my mind happily ran through the leg o'lamb dinner, with mashed potatoes, gravy, broccoli with hollandaise sauce, and mint jelly made from the mint that always grew well around the leaking faucet in the backyard. Or the payday dinner, sirloin steak, broiled medium rare, with baked potatoes loaded with butter and pepper, and just about any veggie fresh from the garden except yellow squash. Or homemade noodles wallowing in beef stroganoff (with mushrooms) with just a touch of sour cream stirred in, a far-too-rare treat best made by my former roomie's mom way back then. I can still taste her stroganoff and the homemade dinner rolls she made from scratch (yeast rolls) and served with a whole cube of butter. Scandinavian heaven!
Liver with onions intruded into my mental meanderings, the one food item that I always refuse. The slimy sight of it makes me nauseous, and the smell of it cooking stimulates my gag reflex. There is a family story associated with liver, onions, and my dinner being tossed off the second floor porch. When I say I won't eat it, I really mean I WON'T EAT LIVER no matter how long someone thinks it'll take to make me change my mind. I also od'd on casseroles during my youth and early marriage, so I try to avoid those whenever possible. Separate the ingredients, put them on plate and I'm fine, but stir 'em together in the same baking dish and it's just repurposed left-overs. Sorry, but there it is. Don't even start with scalloped potatoes and ham. Give me ham and potatoes and I'm there, but do NOT mix them with milk in a baking dish: PLEASE. And no, it does NOT improve the flavor of either the ham or the potatoes to sprinkle bread crumbs and cheese on top before baking: it's disgusting.
Yeah, there are favorite meals to enjoy and others to avoid, but there are also favorite foods, most of which begin with the letter "junk," that I stay away from more often than I indulge, but the seed was planted with the "favorites" blog. I first began the cinnamon roll splurge when the kids were young because the rolls come in the poppin' fresh packaging, and back in the day it was a novelty to pop the tube and bake the rolls. The cinnamon rolls with the orange icing, that is. My kids and I baked up two tubes of the rolls because we enhanced them into sinful by adding finely chopped walnuts and rolling two of the curled cinnamon strips together to make one ginormous hot cinnamon orange goodie. Somehow, it was better to eat just one big roll than several smaller rolls, but the bottom line is that every one of our rolls could be either two or three of the smaller rolls redesigned for devouring, depending on just how frisky we were feeling when the spirit moved us to pop the tubes of dough.
I don't bake during the day as it's too hot to heat the oven, but today I made an exception and enjoyed a huge hot cinnamon and walnut roll topped with orange frosting, along with a fresh cup of coffee and my feet perched on the edge of the coffee table. It doesn't get much better than that ... unless it's knowing that there are still three rolls for the taking and no one else around to beat me to them!
Liver with onions intruded into my mental meanderings, the one food item that I always refuse. The slimy sight of it makes me nauseous, and the smell of it cooking stimulates my gag reflex. There is a family story associated with liver, onions, and my dinner being tossed off the second floor porch. When I say I won't eat it, I really mean I WON'T EAT LIVER no matter how long someone thinks it'll take to make me change my mind. I also od'd on casseroles during my youth and early marriage, so I try to avoid those whenever possible. Separate the ingredients, put them on plate and I'm fine, but stir 'em together in the same baking dish and it's just repurposed left-overs. Sorry, but there it is. Don't even start with scalloped potatoes and ham. Give me ham and potatoes and I'm there, but do NOT mix them with milk in a baking dish: PLEASE. And no, it does NOT improve the flavor of either the ham or the potatoes to sprinkle bread crumbs and cheese on top before baking: it's disgusting.
Yeah, there are favorite meals to enjoy and others to avoid, but there are also favorite foods, most of which begin with the letter "junk," that I stay away from more often than I indulge, but the seed was planted with the "favorites" blog. I first began the cinnamon roll splurge when the kids were young because the rolls come in the poppin' fresh packaging, and back in the day it was a novelty to pop the tube and bake the rolls. The cinnamon rolls with the orange icing, that is. My kids and I baked up two tubes of the rolls because we enhanced them into sinful by adding finely chopped walnuts and rolling two of the curled cinnamon strips together to make one ginormous hot cinnamon orange goodie. Somehow, it was better to eat just one big roll than several smaller rolls, but the bottom line is that every one of our rolls could be either two or three of the smaller rolls redesigned for devouring, depending on just how frisky we were feeling when the spirit moved us to pop the tubes of dough.
I don't bake during the day as it's too hot to heat the oven, but today I made an exception and enjoyed a huge hot cinnamon and walnut roll topped with orange frosting, along with a fresh cup of coffee and my feet perched on the edge of the coffee table. It doesn't get much better than that ... unless it's knowing that there are still three rolls for the taking and no one else around to beat me to them!
Trauma Center
Mia sat totally still, barking her "danger" bark. Because we were in the living room, I was at a loss: was there a snake in the house (has happened in the past)? Was there an insect crawling across the carpet (frequent guests)? What on earth could the matter be? I shushed her, but she would not stop barking, nor would she move a muscle. It was obvious that whatever the matter was, I had to figure it out before Mia would stop barking.As I walked toward her, all I could see was her little stuffed play toy on the rug. When it was obvious that I was missing something, Mia barked again and pushed at her toy with her nose. Ah-ha! I saw it: an arm had torn off her favorite toy and fluffy stuffing marked the scene of the injury.
Mia shadowed me as I found needle and thread, restuffed the ripped toy, and carefully sewed it shut. Mia never made a sound, but watched me with critical eyes, her nose mere inches from the operating theatre. When I finished, I handed her the toy, but she turned her eyes, perhaps afraid to face what could have been the demise of the doggie toy. I assured her that her toy was fine, then squeaked it a couple of times and threw it down the hallway. She chased it, picked it up in her teeth, tossed it in the air and watched it land, picked it up again, then trotted back and handed it to me so we could play.
Yet another household tragedy averted on this fine windy Friday.
PS: look closely at the photo and you'll see where the leg is missing :-) Mia's toenails are where the leg used to be, prior to what we're calling the incident.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Huff 'n Puff and BLOW Your House Down!
Last night the wind blew so fiercely that I literally could not go outside. Yes, I actively practice hyperbole, but this is for reals, as my kids used to say, not just an excuse not to scoop poop after Thor's contribution to the dog run. A specific weather condition created the potential for a wind event that features sustained winds in excess of 55 mph (yesterday) and higher (today), predicted as high as the 70s mph range. Sporadic power outages are a by-product of high winds, so I've had several of the short outages, while some communities have gone hours without electricity. The huge tree at the back of my property, originating in the yard next door, is entwined with the power lines, so I expect either to lose power or have the tree uprooted during one of these high-wind events.
The winds originate along the coast, associated with the dense fog layer crashing into our incredibly high temps and low humidity. Once the winds crest the surrounding mountains, they blast into the desert, especially at the west end of PS and heading northerly toward DHS, MV, YV, JT and across the marine corps base outside of Twenty-nine Palms.
According to the weather service, the winds will sustain high velocity until early Friday; meanwhile, a huge military maneuver is planned involving a higher than usual number of aircraft. It becomes immediately apparent to the novice (that would be me) that aircraft will have difficulty flying during the predicted weather conditions. Interestingly enough, those exact conditions occur in the Middle East, blowing sands obscuring visibility, where current military operations occur 24/7 for reals. Thus, it is valuable training for the troops, as well as the sky crews, to practice in conditions similar to what they face during deployment, but I'm thinking that isn't going to happen.
War doesn't wait for favorable weather conditions, but practice can be canceled. The high winds blowing across the military base make it hazardous for the boots on the ground, as well as the eyes in the sky that fly over civilian communities. The loss of military personnel and aircraft during war is inevitable, but that kind of loss during maneuvers becomes a tragedy no one wants to occur on US soil.
Meanwhile, I've battened down the hatches, taking down my outdoor chimes and closing all the windows, so I'll stay inside today.
The winds originate along the coast, associated with the dense fog layer crashing into our incredibly high temps and low humidity. Once the winds crest the surrounding mountains, they blast into the desert, especially at the west end of PS and heading northerly toward DHS, MV, YV, JT and across the marine corps base outside of Twenty-nine Palms.
According to the weather service, the winds will sustain high velocity until early Friday; meanwhile, a huge military maneuver is planned involving a higher than usual number of aircraft. It becomes immediately apparent to the novice (that would be me) that aircraft will have difficulty flying during the predicted weather conditions. Interestingly enough, those exact conditions occur in the Middle East, blowing sands obscuring visibility, where current military operations occur 24/7 for reals. Thus, it is valuable training for the troops, as well as the sky crews, to practice in conditions similar to what they face during deployment, but I'm thinking that isn't going to happen.
War doesn't wait for favorable weather conditions, but practice can be canceled. The high winds blowing across the military base make it hazardous for the boots on the ground, as well as the eyes in the sky that fly over civilian communities. The loss of military personnel and aircraft during war is inevitable, but that kind of loss during maneuvers becomes a tragedy no one wants to occur on US soil.
Meanwhile, I've battened down the hatches, taking down my outdoor chimes and closing all the windows, so I'll stay inside today.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Chromed
My g-mail account has been asking me to go chrome, so today -- I did. It is faster, a whole lot faster, and I'm playing with it to see what else it does. Anyone provide me with good info, cool things to do, reasons why I switched to chrome?
Or did I simply have a Nike moment?
Or did I simply have a Nike moment?
Conflict at the Check-out Counter
I walked the length of the deserted check-out lanes, but the only two open this morning were clearly identified as "Express" lanes, limited to consumers with 15 items or less (which should be fewer because they can be counted, rather than weighed, which would require the use of less). I asked the checker if a full-basket lane was available, but she responded "no" and told me it was okay to get into the express line.
Thus began the conflict at the check-out counter.
The elderly couple behind me made it quite clear that I had more than 15 items in my basket and should find another lane as I was clogging the express lane. I had already allowed 2 customers to go ahead of me, checked with an authority about a full-basket lane, and stood my ground. The man looked over my shoulder and commented on the items as I removed them from the cart to the conveyer belt, noting to his companion that I had purchased 10 containers of yogurt and a T-bone steak marked down for quick sale. He also informed his companion that I only purchased 2 pieces of fruit, but a new jar of popcorn and a full pound of real butter -- "must not have cholersterol issues" was his medical opinion. I speeded up the transfer of items, hoping to finish my check-out and leave the store with a shred of dignity, but then he put his hand on my shoulder and cautioned me to "Slow down; you don't want to bruise your bananas."
Believe me, buddy, it wasn't my bananas that were going to be bruised if you didn't remove your hand immediately! No, I didn't attack him, either physically or verbally, but it was close for a moment. The withering stare seemed to do the trick this time and he stepped back, but I'm still not believing that HE TOUCHED ME!
You know, there are times when people should just shut the hell up and mind their own business, and I'm saying that one of those times is while taking a turn in the grocery store check-out lane. What I had in my cart was no one's business but mine, and how many items I had in my cart was also my business. The clerk, sensing my irritation, apologized loudly and repeatedly for not having a full-cart lane available, but I felt as if I had committed a criminal act by putting twice as many items on the conveyer belt as allowed by the "express" designation.
Part of me wanted to be rude, to confront the elderly couple behind me, to tell them to keep their hands and their comments to themselves, but then I thought for a minute and decided that, perhaps, the trip to the grocery store is their only entertainment. Maybe I provided them with fodder for conversation for the rest of the day -- for the rest of the week -- until they return to the store next week and make someone else's life a public spectacle.
Cheap thrill at my expense, but what the heck.
Thus began the conflict at the check-out counter.
The elderly couple behind me made it quite clear that I had more than 15 items in my basket and should find another lane as I was clogging the express lane. I had already allowed 2 customers to go ahead of me, checked with an authority about a full-basket lane, and stood my ground. The man looked over my shoulder and commented on the items as I removed them from the cart to the conveyer belt, noting to his companion that I had purchased 10 containers of yogurt and a T-bone steak marked down for quick sale. He also informed his companion that I only purchased 2 pieces of fruit, but a new jar of popcorn and a full pound of real butter -- "must not have cholersterol issues" was his medical opinion. I speeded up the transfer of items, hoping to finish my check-out and leave the store with a shred of dignity, but then he put his hand on my shoulder and cautioned me to "Slow down; you don't want to bruise your bananas."
Believe me, buddy, it wasn't my bananas that were going to be bruised if you didn't remove your hand immediately! No, I didn't attack him, either physically or verbally, but it was close for a moment. The withering stare seemed to do the trick this time and he stepped back, but I'm still not believing that HE TOUCHED ME!
You know, there are times when people should just shut the hell up and mind their own business, and I'm saying that one of those times is while taking a turn in the grocery store check-out lane. What I had in my cart was no one's business but mine, and how many items I had in my cart was also my business. The clerk, sensing my irritation, apologized loudly and repeatedly for not having a full-cart lane available, but I felt as if I had committed a criminal act by putting twice as many items on the conveyer belt as allowed by the "express" designation.
Part of me wanted to be rude, to confront the elderly couple behind me, to tell them to keep their hands and their comments to themselves, but then I thought for a minute and decided that, perhaps, the trip to the grocery store is their only entertainment. Maybe I provided them with fodder for conversation for the rest of the day -- for the rest of the week -- until they return to the store next week and make someone else's life a public spectacle.
Cheap thrill at my expense, but what the heck.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Mia's Guest
Mia has a guest for a few days, Thor, the dog she stayed with while I was gone for 2 weeks. I've always thought that Mia was big (weighing in at a firm 90 pounds), but she looks pretty darned petite next to Thor, whose head is at my waist when he stands next to me.
Mia has shown Thor how to use the doggy door and told him that he's to poop in the dog run, not on my landscaping rock. She led the way into her doggie pool and even shared the keyhole of my desk, her favorite spot for a foot scratching (my foot; her back). Thor cleaned up all the floor food in the kitchen, the bits and pieces that Mia refuses to eat and spreads across the kitchen floor so her bowl looks empty and ready for a refill. I've had them both sit pretty, which earned a treat, and I was finally able to take a together photo!
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