Reading the online responses to the news articles about the botched bombing of a US airplane and the suicide bombing at a CIA base in the farthest regions of Afghanistan, I am astounded how passive our reaction is to the execution of American citizens by terrorists. What – exactly – are we waiting for in the “war on terror”? Do Americans think that (1) if we do nothing, the attacks stop or (2) if we do something, they escalate? How about rethinking those opposing positions into a mindset that used to characterize America. The word "resolution" applies to more than just a promise made at the New Year that the maker has no intent to fulfill.
There’s a historic American flag with the words “Don’t Tread On Me,” a warning that when America’s democratic principles are crossed there is a consequence, not a conversation. In the Bible’s Old Testament, God smote them, whoever “them” was; in the New Testament, God sent his only Son to convince the people that once the enemy is conquered, we can work toward world-wide reconciliation between people. However, when the threat of annihilation constantly hangs overhead, people cannot bridge the gaps and create world-wide peace and harmony because they are too busy watching their backs.
In the movie The American President, which was released prior to 9-11, America is attacked (hypothetically); when the Cabinet meets to discuss the event, the decision is made to conduct what is termed a “proportional response,” one that is quick, decisive, final – and sends a clear, concise message about the consequences for attacking the US, even on foreign soil. We say we don’t negotiate with terrorists, but isn’t that what we’re doing when we engage in conversation, rather than confrontation? At least a dozen people were killed at the CIA camp, and you better believe that the CIA knows who is responsible for the attack and where they are: respond. Immediately. Forcefully. Finally. Send a message that cannot be misunderstood, rather than have an on-going discussion about how tragic it is to lose these American lives.
Thank God there was a “foreigner” onboard the airplane over Detroit, a man who took immediate action when he realized what was happening. He didn’t watch and wonder what was happening or call the crew to do something; he jumped over seats, tackled the bomber, and put out the fire. His goal was to neutralize the immediate threat, not wonder whether his actions were politically correct and/or would be supported by the press coverage. People admire courage and immediate, decisive action because that’s what not only saves lives, but prevents future attacks using our airplanes as the delivery system for terrorism. When we complain about the inconvenience of new screening procedures at the airport terminals, aren't we dishonoring the men, women, and children aboard an airplane intended as a weapon of mass destruction on 9-11 who fought the terrorists? Who rode the plane nose-first into the ground rather than allow the terrorists to complete their mission?
No one respects the kid who is bullied, but when s/he fights back, even if the bully wins the fight, we applaud the victim for standing up for him/herself. We may not always win the fight, but at least we fight back. Why have we forgotten that part of our historical heritage? We're so busy comforting the victim that we have turned our backs on the bully, trusting that s/he won't hurt us while we're taking care of our wounded! Right: the bully hurts his/her victim, but won't hurt me because ... why? When I turn my back on the bully, I simply become the next victim because that's the nature of a bully.
One commentor on the newspaper’s webpage decried the “John Wayne mentality” of the macho men who run in with guns blazing to take out the bad guys. Why is that not a good tactic? I’d rather have John Wayne protecting me than a politician whose primary goal is re-election. President G.W. Bush was excoriated in the press for sitting like a deer caught in the headlights when he was informed about the events on 9-11 while visiting a classroom filled with children. No one knew at that time exactly what was happening, but now we have that history to put an event into an immediate context and react. I’m glad President Obama and his family are enjoying a Hawaiian holiday, but if Bush’s actions were inappropriate in a classroom filled with little children, how does anyone explain the President continuing to surf while two separate terrorist attacks occur involving US citizens?
If I were CIA, I’d take care of business immediately and worry about the media and political consequences after the business is finished. I’d send the message to the Taliban that our political system seems afraid to talk about: DON'T TREAD ON THE USA. However, if the only consequence for the terrorists is more publicity, why not do whatever it takes to remain in the power position? We empower terrorists to do more and to do it more often because we do nothing. How can any other nation either admire or follow the leadership of an American nation afraid to stand up for itself?
If we do not possess the resolve to fight back -- all out -- then we deserve whatever the terrorists hand us.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Upside Down and Inside Out
It has been many, many weeks since I've slept through the night and I wish I knew the reason therefore. At first, I literally could not stay awake past 8 pm, a joke at any age past about 10, but woke up wide awake at 3 am. Then, I stayed awake until the wee hours, the hours during which the wee ones used to require a feeding to finish sleeping through the night. Now, it's so erratic than I cannot predict if tonight is the night for good sleep or no sleep.
Last night, I read for a while, turned out the light at 10 pm, fell soundly asleep, and then bolted awake at midnight, just in time to watch all the late and late late night shows that would not exist without insommnia. They aren't all that funny when one is using them as a sleep aide: a cranky disposition affects the response to the alleged jokes that may be more humorous earlier in the evening. I've tried reading, just getting back into sleep posture and hoping, as well as sipping hot tea or hot chocolate while watching terminally boring TV, but nothing seems to work.
Of course there are sleeping pills, both OTC and prescription, but I am one of those people who feels that using a synthetic product to achieve a natural result is not what my body needs or wants. Usually, these cycles of insommnia naturally fade after about 2 weeks, but this time, it's taking longer for my body to recycle itself into a new cicadian rhythm. Meanwhile, I'm watching the recycled programs that I missed during the day on either CNN or HLN, a variety of short shows that covers the gamut of what's happening in the world while I'm doing other things.
One of the middle-of-the-night stations clarified that Jon Gosselin probably trashed his own NY apartment and slashed all his personal belongings, then blamed it on his ex, Haley, so he can collect insurance. He is behind on his rent (huh, wonder why), can't get a job, has no viable income (K8 evidently cut off his ... allowance), and NO ONE SEEMS TO CARE. He owes child support for his little tribe of dependents (yeah, Jon, you did use them as a tax deduction), which he also cannot pay. The Goss is proof positive that it is possible to cut off one's nose to spite one's face.
And, believe it or not, more travelers are upset with longer lines at check-in than they are with over-all security measures taken to keep them safer in the skies. As one interviewee put it, "If my number is up, there ain't nothing no one can do about it." Well said, sir, but I wonder how many of the other passengers aboard your plane share your whatever attitude? Or, perhaps, the innocent victims upon whom the blown-apart airliner may come to rest? Or, the surge in copycat doers who may find it cool to watch the reruns of the devastating explosion that kills all aboard and far too many victims on the ground?
As far as the pundit spin goes, it's pretty much what one would expect: one side favors being proactive, while the other side continues to favor being reactive. Again, I guess that choice is determined by how often one flies at the mercy of a terrorist who just wants to deflower his heavenly virgins. This terrorist attack was not prevented, it was botched, and you can bet that the next extremist wrapped in explosives will be better trained in the detonation process and, therefore, successful.
Which flight? Which extremist group? What kind of explosive in what kind of container? What difference does it make? When we fail to prevent the event, all we're left with is scraping bits and pieces of human remains out of the debris and decrying the loss of American lives, while exploring diplomatic solutions to terrorist actions, an oxymoron any way you look at it.
I favor limiting the number of overseas flights for passengers that have a more active terrorist mindset than others. These individuals are on a watch list for a reason, so use that reason to keep them off the planes, or at least from landing on American soil. And when a parent contacts the government and says, "I think my son has been radicalized and is planning a terrorist act," believe the parent and keep the kid off the plane! I also believe that authorities should round up and deport all the "students" with expired student visas who not only no longer attend a school, but who also do not appear to be gainfully employed. If they aren't dealing drugs to pay the rent or living off a Pell Grant, they just may be making bombs.
The caution: it's better to be safe than to be sorry.
Last night, I read for a while, turned out the light at 10 pm, fell soundly asleep, and then bolted awake at midnight, just in time to watch all the late and late late night shows that would not exist without insommnia. They aren't all that funny when one is using them as a sleep aide: a cranky disposition affects the response to the alleged jokes that may be more humorous earlier in the evening. I've tried reading, just getting back into sleep posture and hoping, as well as sipping hot tea or hot chocolate while watching terminally boring TV, but nothing seems to work.
Of course there are sleeping pills, both OTC and prescription, but I am one of those people who feels that using a synthetic product to achieve a natural result is not what my body needs or wants. Usually, these cycles of insommnia naturally fade after about 2 weeks, but this time, it's taking longer for my body to recycle itself into a new cicadian rhythm. Meanwhile, I'm watching the recycled programs that I missed during the day on either CNN or HLN, a variety of short shows that covers the gamut of what's happening in the world while I'm doing other things.
One of the middle-of-the-night stations clarified that Jon Gosselin probably trashed his own NY apartment and slashed all his personal belongings, then blamed it on his ex, Haley, so he can collect insurance. He is behind on his rent (huh, wonder why), can't get a job, has no viable income (K8 evidently cut off his ... allowance), and NO ONE SEEMS TO CARE. He owes child support for his little tribe of dependents (yeah, Jon, you did use them as a tax deduction), which he also cannot pay. The Goss is proof positive that it is possible to cut off one's nose to spite one's face.
And, believe it or not, more travelers are upset with longer lines at check-in than they are with over-all security measures taken to keep them safer in the skies. As one interviewee put it, "If my number is up, there ain't nothing no one can do about it." Well said, sir, but I wonder how many of the other passengers aboard your plane share your whatever attitude? Or, perhaps, the innocent victims upon whom the blown-apart airliner may come to rest? Or, the surge in copycat doers who may find it cool to watch the reruns of the devastating explosion that kills all aboard and far too many victims on the ground?
As far as the pundit spin goes, it's pretty much what one would expect: one side favors being proactive, while the other side continues to favor being reactive. Again, I guess that choice is determined by how often one flies at the mercy of a terrorist who just wants to deflower his heavenly virgins. This terrorist attack was not prevented, it was botched, and you can bet that the next extremist wrapped in explosives will be better trained in the detonation process and, therefore, successful.
Which flight? Which extremist group? What kind of explosive in what kind of container? What difference does it make? When we fail to prevent the event, all we're left with is scraping bits and pieces of human remains out of the debris and decrying the loss of American lives, while exploring diplomatic solutions to terrorist actions, an oxymoron any way you look at it.
I favor limiting the number of overseas flights for passengers that have a more active terrorist mindset than others. These individuals are on a watch list for a reason, so use that reason to keep them off the planes, or at least from landing on American soil. And when a parent contacts the government and says, "I think my son has been radicalized and is planning a terrorist act," believe the parent and keep the kid off the plane! I also believe that authorities should round up and deport all the "students" with expired student visas who not only no longer attend a school, but who also do not appear to be gainfully employed. If they aren't dealing drugs to pay the rent or living off a Pell Grant, they just may be making bombs.
The caution: it's better to be safe than to be sorry.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Capsule Commentary
Since Christmas Eve, I've watched a total of 5 DVDs while cleaning closets, finishing painting projects, and thinking about what is next on the to-do list. Snap judgments and capsule commentaries follow:
1. Julie & Julia is entertaining, but also has a message: everyone needs a passion. After thinking about it for the past several days, I've concluded that is what's missing from my life: I'm not passionate about anything. Perhaps that is an aspect of my life that could use some improvement.
2. The Ugly Truth is also entertaining in the contrast between beauty and the beast, female v. male, fantasy v. reality. Kathryn Heigl is physically gorgeous and comes across on-screen as the perfect female, which also makes her the perfect foil for a coarse, crude, common male of the species. I've concluded that although I'm no Kathryn Heigl, I absolutely do not want a coarse, crude, common male to share my life. Thus, I'm going to continue the wait for my very own elderly Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet.
3. Angels & Demons is exciting, but a bit over-done. There comes a point when you just want the film to end, and not necessarily well, but just be done. Tom Hanks is a good actor, but some members of the supporting cast tried to make too much out of a minor role, and over-acting quickly becomes hysterically funny in a totally serious movie.
4. I Love You, Man stinks. It's not funny, it's not entertaining, it's not well-acted. Oh, that's right: it's a man's movie, so I'm not supposed to relate to it, much less enjoy watching it. I got that right.
5. Without a doubt, the worst movie I've seen since Marty Robbins starred in the ancient classic Hell on Wheels, during which the edges of the set are clearly visible and the race scenes are exterior shots of professional races, is Mail Order Bride, starring Daphne Zuniga and Greg Evigan. I suspect it is a made-for-TV movie that was marketed for the DVD crowds, but it is incredibly awful from the casting to the plot to the alleged conflict to the final scene. It amazes me that these kinds of movies are not just written, but that someone thinks they can make money. This one had to be a tax write-off as there is absolutely nothing about it that hints at a movie studio seriously thinking it was going to be a commercial success.
I walked through the video store again today, but nothing caught my eye, so I didn't rent another film. Guess it's back to the L&O after holiday marathon, rivaled only by the marathon of NCIS episodes. Next week, the networks start the summer rerun season, which is sandwiched between the end of the fall season and the start of the fall season reruns. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.
My thought? It's time for me to go back to work!
1. Julie & Julia is entertaining, but also has a message: everyone needs a passion. After thinking about it for the past several days, I've concluded that is what's missing from my life: I'm not passionate about anything. Perhaps that is an aspect of my life that could use some improvement.
2. The Ugly Truth is also entertaining in the contrast between beauty and the beast, female v. male, fantasy v. reality. Kathryn Heigl is physically gorgeous and comes across on-screen as the perfect female, which also makes her the perfect foil for a coarse, crude, common male of the species. I've concluded that although I'm no Kathryn Heigl, I absolutely do not want a coarse, crude, common male to share my life. Thus, I'm going to continue the wait for my very own elderly Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet.
3. Angels & Demons is exciting, but a bit over-done. There comes a point when you just want the film to end, and not necessarily well, but just be done. Tom Hanks is a good actor, but some members of the supporting cast tried to make too much out of a minor role, and over-acting quickly becomes hysterically funny in a totally serious movie.
4. I Love You, Man stinks. It's not funny, it's not entertaining, it's not well-acted. Oh, that's right: it's a man's movie, so I'm not supposed to relate to it, much less enjoy watching it. I got that right.
5. Without a doubt, the worst movie I've seen since Marty Robbins starred in the ancient classic Hell on Wheels, during which the edges of the set are clearly visible and the race scenes are exterior shots of professional races, is Mail Order Bride, starring Daphne Zuniga and Greg Evigan. I suspect it is a made-for-TV movie that was marketed for the DVD crowds, but it is incredibly awful from the casting to the plot to the alleged conflict to the final scene. It amazes me that these kinds of movies are not just written, but that someone thinks they can make money. This one had to be a tax write-off as there is absolutely nothing about it that hints at a movie studio seriously thinking it was going to be a commercial success.
I walked through the video store again today, but nothing caught my eye, so I didn't rent another film. Guess it's back to the L&O after holiday marathon, rivaled only by the marathon of NCIS episodes. Next week, the networks start the summer rerun season, which is sandwiched between the end of the fall season and the start of the fall season reruns. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.
My thought? It's time for me to go back to work!
Going Where This Woman Has Never Gone Before
Today is historic in a small, mostly insignificant way. For the first time in my life, I boxed up clothing I have literally not worn in years, labeled the contents, and put it all into the back of my truck for delivery to the CVRM, a charity to which I donate regularly. For many people, culling the closets is an on-going activity, but for me, a senior raised by parents who lived through the Great Depression, everything is kept because ... you never know when you are going to need it. Or, in my case, lose enough weight to wear again.
Approximately 3 dozen nice jeans, ranging in sizes between 10 and 16, are in the boxes. I kept my favorite 6 pairs, along with an assortment of pull-on pants, and boxed all the other pants. Ditto shirts and blouses, some of which have stains on them that I ignored after I had already pulled the blouse on and was ready to walk out the door before I realized the stain was there. Belts? I kept two, just in case ... you never know! Sox? I kept about 3 dozen and boxed the other thousands of sox in the drawer that was bulging to the point of not shutting. Stockings? Really: when was the last time anyone wore stockings? T-shirts, underwear, and nightgowns are packed, ready for delivery. I purged shoes when I converted my closet to a built-in, tossing out everything with a heel that required stockings. Finally, the 3 huge bags filled with "winter" sweaters are on the way to the needy at the shelter as my "winter" sweaters are actually my everyday shirts paired with either a zippered hoodie or a winter coat. Tacky? Yes, but that's living in the desert.
Everything that remains is hung properly or folded and stored by color. Monkish, huh?
Separation anxiety is pulling me to think about what I'm doing before I make it final, but I know there will be some relief once all this stuff is out of the house. I'm also boxing up extra office supplies and taking them for the children. I've already boxed up old video tapes and donated hardcover books to the local libraries, so I'm almost to the point of having made it through each of the major rooms in the house. When dotter was here for T'giving, I opened the Y2K emergency supplies I purchased from the church, so those boxes are also gone. The food items went into the trash, but the non-perishables are going to the shelter with the clothing.
And that's the way it is in my little corner of the world today as I walk an unfamiliar path through conspicuous consumption, which I prefer to the more common term, hoarding!
Approximately 3 dozen nice jeans, ranging in sizes between 10 and 16, are in the boxes. I kept my favorite 6 pairs, along with an assortment of pull-on pants, and boxed all the other pants. Ditto shirts and blouses, some of which have stains on them that I ignored after I had already pulled the blouse on and was ready to walk out the door before I realized the stain was there. Belts? I kept two, just in case ... you never know! Sox? I kept about 3 dozen and boxed the other thousands of sox in the drawer that was bulging to the point of not shutting. Stockings? Really: when was the last time anyone wore stockings? T-shirts, underwear, and nightgowns are packed, ready for delivery. I purged shoes when I converted my closet to a built-in, tossing out everything with a heel that required stockings. Finally, the 3 huge bags filled with "winter" sweaters are on the way to the needy at the shelter as my "winter" sweaters are actually my everyday shirts paired with either a zippered hoodie or a winter coat. Tacky? Yes, but that's living in the desert.
Everything that remains is hung properly or folded and stored by color. Monkish, huh?
Separation anxiety is pulling me to think about what I'm doing before I make it final, but I know there will be some relief once all this stuff is out of the house. I'm also boxing up extra office supplies and taking them for the children. I've already boxed up old video tapes and donated hardcover books to the local libraries, so I'm almost to the point of having made it through each of the major rooms in the house. When dotter was here for T'giving, I opened the Y2K emergency supplies I purchased from the church, so those boxes are also gone. The food items went into the trash, but the non-perishables are going to the shelter with the clothing.
And that's the way it is in my little corner of the world today as I walk an unfamiliar path through conspicuous consumption, which I prefer to the more common term, hoarding!
The Right to Say Whatever I Want
The bloggers using the on-line newspaper to vent their homophobic, hyper-political, racist spleens have been removed. Some of them walked a very thin edge between the right to free speech and libel, evidently a daily exercise the majority of them enjoyed. One person says that they shared "lively debate" that was academic, not personal, but as an outsider who read the postings, there was little academic and a whole lot personal.
If the description of a suspect in a local crime was given, the bloggers went on the "Mexican" rant, as if no one other than Mexicans ever commits a crime, and characterized all of them as illegal. If the description of a white suspect was given, the person was obviously a druggie and/or gang banger. Children involved in criminal activity came from broken homes and were raised by not just dysfunctional (probably single or perhaps gay) parents, but criminals and drug abusers. For every action, there is an opposite, but never an equal, reaction in the blogosphere.
I stopped reading the blogs, but the comments follow every article, are posted by the same blog corps, and are harder to avoid. The racist comments abound; the battle between gay and straight rages on; the disparaging portrayals of entire communities is commonplace. The bloggers have become the Gossip Girls of high school fame, wanting to be the first one out there with an opinion, a perspective, a written account of life that accepts no question, nor offers any truth.
Far too many of the blogs and the online comments to news articles are questionable, if not libelous, and cross the line between expressing one's opinion and damaging another person's reputation and/or livelihood. These personal attacks need to be restricted, not supported with a weak Constitutional argument about the freedom of the press. These people are NOT the press, no matter how often they represent themselves as adjunct reporters: they are individuals with a personal bias that is validated in the public's mindset because it appears on a media website. If the local newspaper allows the comments and the blogs by publishing them, the writer must be right.
Should the bloggers be shut down? Yes.
Should the comments be shut down? No.
In a personal blog, the blogger has the right to write whatever s/he chooses, but also has the responsibility to accept the consequences of those words. My blog represents me, not an official media outlet, so the consequences of my words is solely mine to bear; however, if the local online newspaper provides a link to my blog, I now represent by extension that media outlet. If the online newspaper continues to allow access to blogs that include inappropriate/unverified comments about their news articles, the business needs to be held accountable for the content of the posters, who do not have the protection of freedom of the press as they are not the press. However, writing a comment is a different venue as that is clearly the opinion of the person who writes it, the same way that journalists can write OpEd pieces that are clearly based on opinion and restricted to the Op/Ed page. However, the local editorial staff does a poor job of monitoring the electronic comments, often allowing both inappropriate and illegal comments to post.
In the past, readers who commented about the news mailed the communication to the media, creating a time lag between the thought and the publication. The test of time and distance from the event created a safe guard between personal ranting and raving and a legitimate letter to the editor. Someone read the written correspondence and made a value judgment before sending it to the typesetters. That is an important safe guard, a necessary safe guard, one that protects Presidents from making "stupid" off-the-cuff comments that become part of the media legacy and citizens from making racist remarks that do nothing to improve the quality of life for all Americans.
I stand behind freedom of the press for legitimate journalists who research the news before reporting it to verify that the news is based in fact, not personal opinion. If the media wants to continue to have some degree of legitmacy, it must take a step back and question whether allowing both on-the-spot impromptu "news reporting" and citizen commentators are a legitimate adjunct to their publication. Far too many people think that if it's on TV or the internet, it must be true, but when there is no test of time, the truth is often the last thing the public learns about the news.
If the description of a suspect in a local crime was given, the bloggers went on the "Mexican" rant, as if no one other than Mexicans ever commits a crime, and characterized all of them as illegal. If the description of a white suspect was given, the person was obviously a druggie and/or gang banger. Children involved in criminal activity came from broken homes and were raised by not just dysfunctional (probably single or perhaps gay) parents, but criminals and drug abusers. For every action, there is an opposite, but never an equal, reaction in the blogosphere.
I stopped reading the blogs, but the comments follow every article, are posted by the same blog corps, and are harder to avoid. The racist comments abound; the battle between gay and straight rages on; the disparaging portrayals of entire communities is commonplace. The bloggers have become the Gossip Girls of high school fame, wanting to be the first one out there with an opinion, a perspective, a written account of life that accepts no question, nor offers any truth.
Far too many of the blogs and the online comments to news articles are questionable, if not libelous, and cross the line between expressing one's opinion and damaging another person's reputation and/or livelihood. These personal attacks need to be restricted, not supported with a weak Constitutional argument about the freedom of the press. These people are NOT the press, no matter how often they represent themselves as adjunct reporters: they are individuals with a personal bias that is validated in the public's mindset because it appears on a media website. If the local newspaper allows the comments and the blogs by publishing them, the writer must be right.
Should the bloggers be shut down? Yes.
Should the comments be shut down? No.
In a personal blog, the blogger has the right to write whatever s/he chooses, but also has the responsibility to accept the consequences of those words. My blog represents me, not an official media outlet, so the consequences of my words is solely mine to bear; however, if the local online newspaper provides a link to my blog, I now represent by extension that media outlet. If the online newspaper continues to allow access to blogs that include inappropriate/unverified comments about their news articles, the business needs to be held accountable for the content of the posters, who do not have the protection of freedom of the press as they are not the press. However, writing a comment is a different venue as that is clearly the opinion of the person who writes it, the same way that journalists can write OpEd pieces that are clearly based on opinion and restricted to the Op/Ed page. However, the local editorial staff does a poor job of monitoring the electronic comments, often allowing both inappropriate and illegal comments to post.
In the past, readers who commented about the news mailed the communication to the media, creating a time lag between the thought and the publication. The test of time and distance from the event created a safe guard between personal ranting and raving and a legitimate letter to the editor. Someone read the written correspondence and made a value judgment before sending it to the typesetters. That is an important safe guard, a necessary safe guard, one that protects Presidents from making "stupid" off-the-cuff comments that become part of the media legacy and citizens from making racist remarks that do nothing to improve the quality of life for all Americans.
I stand behind freedom of the press for legitimate journalists who research the news before reporting it to verify that the news is based in fact, not personal opinion. If the media wants to continue to have some degree of legitmacy, it must take a step back and question whether allowing both on-the-spot impromptu "news reporting" and citizen commentators are a legitimate adjunct to their publication. Far too many people think that if it's on TV or the internet, it must be true, but when there is no test of time, the truth is often the last thing the public learns about the news.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
White Elephant Gift Exchange
So, here's the deal: everyone brings something they no longer want, nicely wrapped, and all the gifts are placed in the middle of the table. Each guest selects a gift, preferably not the one s/he brought to the party, and then the guests open them, one at a time. If anyone wants YOUR gift, they may hand you their still-wrapped gift, you exchange with them, and they get what you had.This is one of those things that is just easier to do than to describe.
Around the circle we went, with each guest opening a present and the bringer telling the story about it. I had taken a pretty green fleece throw with a holiday theme as I know all of them really anticipate and enjoy the Christmas season, but me? Not so much. Another gal had brought a little Lenox catch-all dish, a third had purchased a Thomas Kinkaide mug with tea bags and lemon cookies wrapped with it. Then, it was my turn to open the gift in front of me, a gift in a really large box. I had not taken a gift, waiting until everyone else had grabbed one, so I tore off the paper, lifted the lid, and was totally speechless.
My gift is a hookah. You know -- the thing a person uses for smoking dope? It's solid brass, quite heavy, and, perhaps, of some value. Did you get the part where I said, "It's a hookah?" Yeah, a hookah. I just stared at it, unable to find a comment other than, "IT'S A HOOKAH!"
The guest who brought it as her white elephant gift was slightly teary-eyed as she explained that she bought it at a tag sale about 15 years ago because she really liked it and thought it was an unusual vase. She bought some artificial flowers for it and used it as a door stop until a friend stopped by and explained that it really wasn't a vase, but a hookah used for smoking dope.
My friend, a fellow Scandinavian, wasn't fazed: she said she bought it, she likes it, and she's going to continue to use it as a doorstop, which she has for all these years. However, she and her husband are contemplating moving back to Wyoming, so they are in the process of cleaning out the detritus of many years together. Her husband suggested our white elephant gift exchange as an excellent opportunity for passing the hookah on, so that's what was decided. However, my friend admitted that she had both second and third thoughts as she drove to the party because she's had it so long and still really likes the hookah. I suggested that we could swap gifts, a legitmate part of the game, so she could take it back home with her, but she sadly said, "No, it's time for me to move on."
At that very moment, I knew that I was well and truly stuck with the hookah! She passed it on to one of her trusted friends, knowing that none of us would chuck it for her, an action she simply could not take herself. I have a house filled with those kinds of decisions, so I thanked her graciously and told her that I would find a spot for her treasure. I set it by the front door, on the phone table, so I can see it and be reminded that I have to find the perfect spot for it. When the tech from my alarm company showed up and had to go back outside to his truck, he noticed it and commented on my object d'art with a slightly smirky smile on his face belying his compliment. I think I now know why it makes an excellent door stop, rather than being displayed at eye level.
I've turned it upside down to see if I could repurpose it into an unusual light fixture, but although the 4 smoking outlets are connected to the central delivery system, I'm not sure it's in a way that would allow wiring as the base is screwed onto a solid core protrusion. Ditto planting a live plant in it. I don't have an EBay account and I don't know anything about Craig's list, but perhaps there is someone out there who really, really wants an old solid brass hookah and would cherish it forever. Please?
PS: the markings on the bottom are R.B India 93: 4.J
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Selling the Weather
Our local media hypes warm, wonderful weather 24/7, even when they know differently. Prior to the weekend, it was all about the warming trend, the temps well into the 70s, and fair skies with slight breezes. Yes, there was a weather pattern up north, which could literally be anywhere from NoCal to Canada, but certainly not poised to bring any hint of anything less than perfect desert weather conditions for holiday shopping, golf, gambling and delicious dining. For those people up to their kneecaps shoveling snow, this sounds like holiday paradise, but perhaps the media is adjusting the truth to accommodate the spirit of the season.
For instance, it's 7:00 am on Tuesday. The skies are darkened with clouds that appear to be heavily laden with potential precipitation. The moderate winds are blowing the clouds into the valley, accompanied by the booming of the thunder and the flashes of lightning. The temps are well into the low 60s and falling, which may seem warm to people who are dealing with the 20s, but are a decided drop from the weather forecast. All in all, the picture painted by the weather prognosticators is definitely not the view from my living room window.
I'll be surprised if we don't have a day filled with nasty weather, but I'm sure the weather reporters will spin it into fair skies and a warming trend by the 6 pm news. When the highway up the hill was shut down a couple of weeks ago due to blizzard conditions, the media reported a "light snowfall" coming down from the mountains, sure to bring excellent early season skiing! I'm sure it did, but no one could get to the ski resorts because the BLIZZARD shut down all the roads, but hey, I don't do winter sports, so whatever.
I have errands to run, a casserole to make for the holiday party, and more tidying up to do after the construction. Rain, for me, is just another reason to bake cookies. As the old Christmas favorite says, "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."
For instance, it's 7:00 am on Tuesday. The skies are darkened with clouds that appear to be heavily laden with potential precipitation. The moderate winds are blowing the clouds into the valley, accompanied by the booming of the thunder and the flashes of lightning. The temps are well into the low 60s and falling, which may seem warm to people who are dealing with the 20s, but are a decided drop from the weather forecast. All in all, the picture painted by the weather prognosticators is definitely not the view from my living room window.
I'll be surprised if we don't have a day filled with nasty weather, but I'm sure the weather reporters will spin it into fair skies and a warming trend by the 6 pm news. When the highway up the hill was shut down a couple of weeks ago due to blizzard conditions, the media reported a "light snowfall" coming down from the mountains, sure to bring excellent early season skiing! I'm sure it did, but no one could get to the ski resorts because the BLIZZARD shut down all the roads, but hey, I don't do winter sports, so whatever.
I have errands to run, a casserole to make for the holiday party, and more tidying up to do after the construction. Rain, for me, is just another reason to bake cookies. As the old Christmas favorite says, "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."
Monday, December 21, 2009
When the Headline Isn't the Story
Wow: yesterday's headline screamed about a shoot out at the local high school, resulting in one fatality, as well as three other gunshot victims. Scary, huh? Lock the doors and bar the windows as the shooters are gunning down victims at the local high school parking lot. The article, however, tells a different story, but who ever reads the rest of the story? If I get the big picture from the headlines, why would I want to waste time reading what really happened? Using the headline as the story, the on-line bloggers have had a field day, including the sage who commented that my little town has 50 years of violent history and there is no changing that.
The blogger is right: there is no changing history, but what about changing the present and the future direction? Perhaps the bloggers could begin by reading the story, not just reacting to the headline, and then posting rantings and ravings that are based in truth, rather than in supposition and hyperbole. If the goal of the bloggers is to become the story, they are achieving that goal in droves at the expense of the facts.
Here's what happened: four people involved in the drug trade, two of whom were from out of town and two of whom were from out of state, met a fifth person in a remote area of the city near the high school parking lot at the farthest boundary of the school at 1:45 AM, the middle of the night for most of us. The fifth person, who lives in the neighborhood adjacent to the high school parking lot, fired on the four while they were still in the car, which then crashed into a tree. One was killed in the car, two others were hit by gun fire, and the fourth occupant apparently escaped unharmed. The shooter was tracked to his nearby home, where he was arrested and the weapon recovered. In the home was evidence of an active pot farm and drug lab; hence, law enforcement believes this was a drug deal gone bad.
The headline isn't the story, nor is it always an accurate capture of the event. This was not a shoot-out at the local high school parking lot; it was not school-related; it did not occur during the day; and the headline deliberately misrepresents the actual events. This kind of attention-grabbing headline doesn't just paint the city in a negative light, but it also causes alarm from all those readers who scan the headlines and believe that the headline is the story. Parents panic and thank God that their children are safe at home while all this violence goes on at the school parking lot. The headline about two men shot to death who were found in a Thermal vineyard the same night was buried on the back pages, but "our" story made the front page based on the potential for ramping up sales of the paper, as well as assuring coverage on the TV news by reporters who echo the newspaper headline to get viewers to stay tuned for more details about this "shoot out at the high school parking lot."
The obvious effort to paint my town as "the wild west" in its on-going lawlessness eradicates all of the positive actions the people who live here take to change the public's perception of the area. Local people are scared by the sensational headlines and the partial news reports they get via the media, while people who live in other communities feel safer behind their gates. There is no more crime in my community than there is in any other desert community: we just get the front page headlines!
It's time for the journalists to investigate the facts and report the truth in a fair and balanced venue that is not tainted with sensational and misleading headlines or bloggers who paint a different picture than the story warrants. It may be beneficial for the rest of the citizens of the Valley to think that all the criminals live in my town, but that kind of thinking leads to complacency and risktaking behaviors that invite the criminals into their communities.
The blogger is right: there is no changing history, but what about changing the present and the future direction? Perhaps the bloggers could begin by reading the story, not just reacting to the headline, and then posting rantings and ravings that are based in truth, rather than in supposition and hyperbole. If the goal of the bloggers is to become the story, they are achieving that goal in droves at the expense of the facts.
Here's what happened: four people involved in the drug trade, two of whom were from out of town and two of whom were from out of state, met a fifth person in a remote area of the city near the high school parking lot at the farthest boundary of the school at 1:45 AM, the middle of the night for most of us. The fifth person, who lives in the neighborhood adjacent to the high school parking lot, fired on the four while they were still in the car, which then crashed into a tree. One was killed in the car, two others were hit by gun fire, and the fourth occupant apparently escaped unharmed. The shooter was tracked to his nearby home, where he was arrested and the weapon recovered. In the home was evidence of an active pot farm and drug lab; hence, law enforcement believes this was a drug deal gone bad.
The headline isn't the story, nor is it always an accurate capture of the event. This was not a shoot-out at the local high school parking lot; it was not school-related; it did not occur during the day; and the headline deliberately misrepresents the actual events. This kind of attention-grabbing headline doesn't just paint the city in a negative light, but it also causes alarm from all those readers who scan the headlines and believe that the headline is the story. Parents panic and thank God that their children are safe at home while all this violence goes on at the school parking lot. The headline about two men shot to death who were found in a Thermal vineyard the same night was buried on the back pages, but "our" story made the front page based on the potential for ramping up sales of the paper, as well as assuring coverage on the TV news by reporters who echo the newspaper headline to get viewers to stay tuned for more details about this "shoot out at the high school parking lot."
The obvious effort to paint my town as "the wild west" in its on-going lawlessness eradicates all of the positive actions the people who live here take to change the public's perception of the area. Local people are scared by the sensational headlines and the partial news reports they get via the media, while people who live in other communities feel safer behind their gates. There is no more crime in my community than there is in any other desert community: we just get the front page headlines!
It's time for the journalists to investigate the facts and report the truth in a fair and balanced venue that is not tainted with sensational and misleading headlines or bloggers who paint a different picture than the story warrants. It may be beneficial for the rest of the citizens of the Valley to think that all the criminals live in my town, but that kind of thinking leads to complacency and risktaking behaviors that invite the criminals into their communities.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Up in the Air
The title of the movie is actually the ending, which leaves the viewer up in the air as to why it ends the way it does. It's hard to believe that the ending my movie buddy and I saw today is "the" ending, rather than one of a multiple choice selection we shoulda/coulda/woulda made had we had a finger on the choice button.
George Cloony is looking a little long in the tooth: he is, after all, a 50's man, and his age is showing, especially when the co-star is SOOOOOO much younger! When she tells her boyfriend "I don't think of him that way: he's old," she means he's OLD. Now, still a handsome man, but he might want to start thinking about age-appropriate roles, as well as age-appropriate co-stars and dates. Men do age well, but they still look foolish dating women who are obviously the age of their daughters, if they had daughters (insert Harrison Ford and the temp lesbian who had a relationship with Ellen to further her career while making the film with Ford). Perhaps the reason George has never married and/or fathered children is so he never has to admit that he's dating a woman young enough to be his daughter. Just a thought.
Anyway, back to the movie. It's an okay plot, but not great. It has some great moments, but doesn't sustain them. The acting is what you expect (George plays every role just the same as the last one, whatever it is), but the young actress who plays Ms. Keenan steals every scene she shares with George and she does it quite handily. It's as if George is playing off her role, rather than her falling in adoration at being in a (gasp) George Cloony film! And the actress who plays his airport pick-up more than holds her own, kicking up the acting and the plot a notch every time she's on-screen. The best scene is the drinking scene, when the youngest member of the troupe shows her lack of employment experience, so typical of today's psycho-babble younger generation of game-changers, in a conversation with George and his pick-up. The cross-generational remarks are hilarious, even more so when combined with the facial expressions that accompany the dialog.
Would I go see it, knowing what I know now? Yep. It's a good holiday break and/or a girls' movie. Guys will sit through it and it'll be okay, but ... it's not a guy movie. Guys have to wait for the new Matt Damon flick, which looks like a great kick-ass macho mayhem movie coming soon to theaters near you.
Warning: if you've recently lost a job, stay away from Up in the Air!!!!! It's about a firm that specializes in firing people and it's very emotional. Somehow, telling someone who's losing a job that it's not personal doesn't sell any better on the big screen than it does face2face.
George Cloony is looking a little long in the tooth: he is, after all, a 50's man, and his age is showing, especially when the co-star is SOOOOOO much younger! When she tells her boyfriend "I don't think of him that way: he's old," she means he's OLD. Now, still a handsome man, but he might want to start thinking about age-appropriate roles, as well as age-appropriate co-stars and dates. Men do age well, but they still look foolish dating women who are obviously the age of their daughters, if they had daughters (insert Harrison Ford and the temp lesbian who had a relationship with Ellen to further her career while making the film with Ford). Perhaps the reason George has never married and/or fathered children is so he never has to admit that he's dating a woman young enough to be his daughter. Just a thought.
Anyway, back to the movie. It's an okay plot, but not great. It has some great moments, but doesn't sustain them. The acting is what you expect (George plays every role just the same as the last one, whatever it is), but the young actress who plays Ms. Keenan steals every scene she shares with George and she does it quite handily. It's as if George is playing off her role, rather than her falling in adoration at being in a (gasp) George Cloony film! And the actress who plays his airport pick-up more than holds her own, kicking up the acting and the plot a notch every time she's on-screen. The best scene is the drinking scene, when the youngest member of the troupe shows her lack of employment experience, so typical of today's psycho-babble younger generation of game-changers, in a conversation with George and his pick-up. The cross-generational remarks are hilarious, even more so when combined with the facial expressions that accompany the dialog.
Would I go see it, knowing what I know now? Yep. It's a good holiday break and/or a girls' movie. Guys will sit through it and it'll be okay, but ... it's not a guy movie. Guys have to wait for the new Matt Damon flick, which looks like a great kick-ass macho mayhem movie coming soon to theaters near you.
Warning: if you've recently lost a job, stay away from Up in the Air!!!!! It's about a firm that specializes in firing people and it's very emotional. Somehow, telling someone who's losing a job that it's not personal doesn't sell any better on the big screen than it does face2face.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
What a Day
I finished the primer coat on all the windows and got most of the office space painted, as well as the last wall in the guest room -- but then I locked myself out of the house! Sure, there are keys here and there, but none outside, so I was stuck. The knob on the screen door was locked and it wouldn't budge. Mia sat in the doorway, wondering when I was going to come back inside.
Believe it or not, a friend who stopped by squeezed through the doggie door and let me back into my house!
I am so tired that I cannot believe it and want to go take a shower, but Mike is supposed to be here to install the blinds -- so I'm waiting. I do that a lot with people I hire to do projects. Wait, that is.
At this point, whatever. It's just been one of those days.
Believe it or not, a friend who stopped by squeezed through the doggie door and let me back into my house!
I am so tired that I cannot believe it and want to go take a shower, but Mike is supposed to be here to install the blinds -- so I'm waiting. I do that a lot with people I hire to do projects. Wait, that is.
At this point, whatever. It's just been one of those days.
So, THIS is Christmas?
It is Christmas, regardless of the seasonal name by which it is called. It's an end-of-the-year celebration eagerly anticipated by the old and the young, and embraces all cultures and religions in some way or another. It's fun; it's family; it's a national party of indulgence that somehow just feels right.
What doesn't feel right this year is the begging. All those organizations that push donating to their cause are militant this year, sending letter after letter to the homes, as well as bombarding the media with extensive coverage that features poor, poor children whose Christmas just won't be merry this year. Give to the toy give-aways; give to the food banks; donate to the cancer hospitals and hospices; volunteer to serve ; pick a name off the donation tree and buy a gift for a needy child.
Give, give, give so no one has to cut back or adjust their standard of living to accommodate circumstances that demand spending less, rather than more.
It used to be that Christmas was one significant gift, accompanied by several necessities, such as new socks and underwear, both of which have become the butt of an annual joke. Children got new school supplies in their stockings to start the second semester in January, along with a fresh piece of fruit. Parents were content to make Christmas for the children, enjoying the family and friends and food as their gift as another year came to a close. The gifts were thoughtful and useful, rather than a tribute to conspicuous consumption that has become the hallmark of an American Christmas. The final piece of the Christmas celebration was the multi-generational family dinner that no one wanted to miss as they came from both near and far. The women cooked, the men watched TV, the children played together, and the family experienced the reason for the season, rather than toting up their take in the prestigious prezzy contest.
When I worked at a local high school, the highlight of the season was an annual drive to provide food, clothing, holiday decorations, and gifts for a family. I don't know how the families were selected, but two years in a row, my students did nothing to provide any of the requirements, so I paid out of pocket for all of the items on the "must have" list. The third year, I refused to participate and left it up to the students to decide if they wanted to participate, knowing that I would not donate a dime. Of course, the day arrived and there were a few cans in the donation box, which I made the students take to the drop-off. The silence was deafening. The 4th year, I was "paired" with another teacher to make it easier for two classes of students to fill the box. The only reason the box was filled is that the other teacher picked up the slack. As the students went to the home to deliver their bounty, they were shocked to see two brand-new SUVs in the driveway, decorations everywhere outside and then inside, as well as tree that had piles of gifts already wrapped and waiting for the big day.
The girls who went on the delivery came back to school in tears. As one of them told me, that family has a nicer home, newer vehicles, and many more presents than her own family, so she didn't understand why they received the donation. I made my concerns known in writing to the administration and refused to participate in this annual event. Needless to say, there were other teachers who shared my stance, but they were afraid to speak up, fearing retribution for their lack of team spirit.
At a local elementary school a short drive from the Mexico border, Nike has donated 400 pairs of new shoes to children when a local donation could not raise enough money to buy each child a pair of shoes. The teachers heading the shoe drive lamented that the children have to wear "cast off" shoes, as if somehow wearing a pair of shoes donated to a thrift shop was shameful. People who used to cut down/remake clothing from one child to another now donate it to the thrift shops, where it is sold for a song, so why not buy it?
The shame is in believing that someone else has to take care of you and your family. The old saying, "whatever it takes," used to be what everyone did to make it through a tough time. No one looked to the government to take care of them, to give them subsidized housing, food stamps, free health care -- and new clothing, piles of Christmas presents. No one assumed that the community was going to provide anything more than a hot meal at the local community kitchen. We handed clothes down to our neighbors'/friends' children, who were glad to get them. We had neighborhood parties where each person brought a food item to share, making sure that there was enough to send some home with the families going through tough times. We shared babysitting for the families who could not afford to pay a sitter, and we hired the neighborhood teens to sit for us so they could earn a little bit of spending money. Families drew names for gift-giving, rather than each one buying for everyone else, a costly practice in any economy.
We are going overboard during a time that has affected everyone's buying power. Kids don't want new school supplies in their stockings; they want an IPod, a top-of-the-line phone with unlimited texting, the latest fashion jeans at $100 a pop, and mall quality cosmetics. Parents want new cars, big screen TVs, and luxury vacations in exotic locations. No one goes to church anymore as Christmas Eve is the absolutely last shopping opportunity and if you miss it, you may miss the bargain of the year!!
There is no making do; there is just getting more.
What doesn't feel right this year is the begging. All those organizations that push donating to their cause are militant this year, sending letter after letter to the homes, as well as bombarding the media with extensive coverage that features poor, poor children whose Christmas just won't be merry this year. Give to the toy give-aways; give to the food banks; donate to the cancer hospitals and hospices; volunteer to serve ; pick a name off the donation tree and buy a gift for a needy child.
Give, give, give so no one has to cut back or adjust their standard of living to accommodate circumstances that demand spending less, rather than more.
It used to be that Christmas was one significant gift, accompanied by several necessities, such as new socks and underwear, both of which have become the butt of an annual joke. Children got new school supplies in their stockings to start the second semester in January, along with a fresh piece of fruit. Parents were content to make Christmas for the children, enjoying the family and friends and food as their gift as another year came to a close. The gifts were thoughtful and useful, rather than a tribute to conspicuous consumption that has become the hallmark of an American Christmas. The final piece of the Christmas celebration was the multi-generational family dinner that no one wanted to miss as they came from both near and far. The women cooked, the men watched TV, the children played together, and the family experienced the reason for the season, rather than toting up their take in the prestigious prezzy contest.
When I worked at a local high school, the highlight of the season was an annual drive to provide food, clothing, holiday decorations, and gifts for a family. I don't know how the families were selected, but two years in a row, my students did nothing to provide any of the requirements, so I paid out of pocket for all of the items on the "must have" list. The third year, I refused to participate and left it up to the students to decide if they wanted to participate, knowing that I would not donate a dime. Of course, the day arrived and there were a few cans in the donation box, which I made the students take to the drop-off. The silence was deafening. The 4th year, I was "paired" with another teacher to make it easier for two classes of students to fill the box. The only reason the box was filled is that the other teacher picked up the slack. As the students went to the home to deliver their bounty, they were shocked to see two brand-new SUVs in the driveway, decorations everywhere outside and then inside, as well as tree that had piles of gifts already wrapped and waiting for the big day.
The girls who went on the delivery came back to school in tears. As one of them told me, that family has a nicer home, newer vehicles, and many more presents than her own family, so she didn't understand why they received the donation. I made my concerns known in writing to the administration and refused to participate in this annual event. Needless to say, there were other teachers who shared my stance, but they were afraid to speak up, fearing retribution for their lack of team spirit.
At a local elementary school a short drive from the Mexico border, Nike has donated 400 pairs of new shoes to children when a local donation could not raise enough money to buy each child a pair of shoes. The teachers heading the shoe drive lamented that the children have to wear "cast off" shoes, as if somehow wearing a pair of shoes donated to a thrift shop was shameful. People who used to cut down/remake clothing from one child to another now donate it to the thrift shops, where it is sold for a song, so why not buy it?
The shame is in believing that someone else has to take care of you and your family. The old saying, "whatever it takes," used to be what everyone did to make it through a tough time. No one looked to the government to take care of them, to give them subsidized housing, food stamps, free health care -- and new clothing, piles of Christmas presents. No one assumed that the community was going to provide anything more than a hot meal at the local community kitchen. We handed clothes down to our neighbors'/friends' children, who were glad to get them. We had neighborhood parties where each person brought a food item to share, making sure that there was enough to send some home with the families going through tough times. We shared babysitting for the families who could not afford to pay a sitter, and we hired the neighborhood teens to sit for us so they could earn a little bit of spending money. Families drew names for gift-giving, rather than each one buying for everyone else, a costly practice in any economy.
We are going overboard during a time that has affected everyone's buying power. Kids don't want new school supplies in their stockings; they want an IPod, a top-of-the-line phone with unlimited texting, the latest fashion jeans at $100 a pop, and mall quality cosmetics. Parents want new cars, big screen TVs, and luxury vacations in exotic locations. No one goes to church anymore as Christmas Eve is the absolutely last shopping opportunity and if you miss it, you may miss the bargain of the year!!
There is no making do; there is just getting more.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Down Time
It's break time, so I'm sitting outside with a fire in the chiminea and a cold glass of wine. The stars are just starting to peak from behind the thin layer of clouds. Last night, I saw the falling stars of the meteor shower, but I think it's pretty much done for this year.
I made the trip to the Big Box Trifecta to find all the items required to finish the reno: curtain rods, blinds, paint, new roller covers, etc. Unfortunately, I picked up the 47" blinds for the office instead of the 46", so have to go back to Wally World and exchange them. I called Mike and asked him to stop by Thursday to install said curtain accoutrements, which he agreed to do.
I found paint close to what's in the bedroom and bath, but it's a brighter shade, so I may end up repainting both rooms. That's when it's good to have a small bathroom, right? I got the Kilz Kolors again as that paint totally covers in one coat and holds up really well.
Because I ordered the new door with clear glass, I'm experimenting with window coverings when someone sleeps in the guest bed. I tried color paper to see if I want color covers, but think I want to keep it simpler than that. Next, I bought some opaque Contac Paper and applied that, which seems to work fairly well as I left a generous border all the way around to limit the obstruction to the view. Hidden in the back of my mind is etching the glass, perhaps with a pattern for a floral design, but I'm not there yet. I also have to buy the screen that affixes to the top sill and holds securely with magnets as the outdoor security screen is a total no-go.
ADT is sending a rep this Thursday for the security update, but I found out during the phone call that it's a 2-appointment process. In the past, the guy has shown up, done whatever, and left: one visit, one charge. If it's too expensive to change out the sensor on the new door, I'll call another company and get a bid from them!!
Once all these little things are done, I can actually do the cleaning. Yes, we clean as we go, but there's been so much going on that little bits and pieces seem to spread outside the construction zone.
And, my grades are done, so I'm driving up the hill tomorrow to post those and be finished with the semester. I'll also share lunch with a college friend before driving back home.
All in all, lots of activity, but not really much going on!
I made the trip to the Big Box Trifecta to find all the items required to finish the reno: curtain rods, blinds, paint, new roller covers, etc. Unfortunately, I picked up the 47" blinds for the office instead of the 46", so have to go back to Wally World and exchange them. I called Mike and asked him to stop by Thursday to install said curtain accoutrements, which he agreed to do.
I found paint close to what's in the bedroom and bath, but it's a brighter shade, so I may end up repainting both rooms. That's when it's good to have a small bathroom, right? I got the Kilz Kolors again as that paint totally covers in one coat and holds up really well.
Because I ordered the new door with clear glass, I'm experimenting with window coverings when someone sleeps in the guest bed. I tried color paper to see if I want color covers, but think I want to keep it simpler than that. Next, I bought some opaque Contac Paper and applied that, which seems to work fairly well as I left a generous border all the way around to limit the obstruction to the view. Hidden in the back of my mind is etching the glass, perhaps with a pattern for a floral design, but I'm not there yet. I also have to buy the screen that affixes to the top sill and holds securely with magnets as the outdoor security screen is a total no-go.
ADT is sending a rep this Thursday for the security update, but I found out during the phone call that it's a 2-appointment process. In the past, the guy has shown up, done whatever, and left: one visit, one charge. If it's too expensive to change out the sensor on the new door, I'll call another company and get a bid from them!!
Once all these little things are done, I can actually do the cleaning. Yes, we clean as we go, but there's been so much going on that little bits and pieces seem to spread outside the construction zone.
And, my grades are done, so I'm driving up the hill tomorrow to post those and be finished with the semester. I'll also share lunch with a college friend before driving back home.
All in all, lots of activity, but not really much going on!
Monday, December 14, 2009
The Honey-Do List
What I need in my life is a honey to do all the jobs that suddenly landed on my shoulders with the decision to retrofit the windows! I am a list-maker and mostly a doer, but the list is one that would take half as long if I had a handy honey to help me.
In the office, I have to paint the room. Well, I guess I don't HAVE to paint it, but when I have to paint one wall, I may as well paint the whole thing -- and I have a gallon of paint that will do the job. Then, I have to either put up curtains or buy new blinds as the ones I had were not gently removed and/or safely stored during the renovation. The hardest part? Moving the furniture out of the way and then back into place once the paint dries.
In my bedroom/bathroom, I also have to paint the walls with windows, but not only did the guys throw out all my paint cans when they cleaned the garage last summer, but I cannot find the color chip to match the paint I used a year ago. Rather than having that project finished, as it was a year ago, I may have to repaint the whole shebang!
In the kitchen, I just have to repaint the window new sash, so it's not a big deal.
In the guest room, I have to paint the wall with the new door, as well as the new door, and then all of the trim, which I want stark white. I'm also going to take 1/3 of the closet and turn it into shelves, which is what I did in my closet when I fixed up my room. I'm adding small shelves, as well as a double bar on one side of it to make it more user friendly and updated. Believe me, an entire wall of closet is a lot of wasted space if I don't do "something" to add to its appeal.
And my carpets are beyond using my home shampooer to clean, so I'm going to call one of the services to get the grime and construction debris out of the fibers. That's a day I'll go to the movies as the odor of wet carpet is not asthma-friendly.
Meanwhile, Mia is again sleeping on the couches, although I thought we were past that phase. I've been waking up at odd hours throughout the night and find her snoring, with her head on a couch pillow. After chastising her severely, I've marched her back into my room and onto her sleeping palette, but she goes back to the living room if/when I fall back to sleep. I've been waking up anytime after 3 AM and just getting up and getting on with it, but I wish I could be sleeping better and not waking up off and on all night.
Oh, well, it is what it is, right?
In the office, I have to paint the room. Well, I guess I don't HAVE to paint it, but when I have to paint one wall, I may as well paint the whole thing -- and I have a gallon of paint that will do the job. Then, I have to either put up curtains or buy new blinds as the ones I had were not gently removed and/or safely stored during the renovation. The hardest part? Moving the furniture out of the way and then back into place once the paint dries.
In my bedroom/bathroom, I also have to paint the walls with windows, but not only did the guys throw out all my paint cans when they cleaned the garage last summer, but I cannot find the color chip to match the paint I used a year ago. Rather than having that project finished, as it was a year ago, I may have to repaint the whole shebang!
In the kitchen, I just have to repaint the window new sash, so it's not a big deal.
In the guest room, I have to paint the wall with the new door, as well as the new door, and then all of the trim, which I want stark white. I'm also going to take 1/3 of the closet and turn it into shelves, which is what I did in my closet when I fixed up my room. I'm adding small shelves, as well as a double bar on one side of it to make it more user friendly and updated. Believe me, an entire wall of closet is a lot of wasted space if I don't do "something" to add to its appeal.
And my carpets are beyond using my home shampooer to clean, so I'm going to call one of the services to get the grime and construction debris out of the fibers. That's a day I'll go to the movies as the odor of wet carpet is not asthma-friendly.
Meanwhile, Mia is again sleeping on the couches, although I thought we were past that phase. I've been waking up at odd hours throughout the night and find her snoring, with her head on a couch pillow. After chastising her severely, I've marched her back into my room and onto her sleeping palette, but she goes back to the living room if/when I fall back to sleep. I've been waking up anytime after 3 AM and just getting up and getting on with it, but I wish I could be sleeping better and not waking up off and on all night.
Oh, well, it is what it is, right?
Sunday, December 13, 2009
What a Difference a Project Makes
It is so cold in the desert that I'm using my heater; however, since installing the new e-rated windows, it comes on far less often than it did last week during the previous cold weather. The windows are not just double-paned, but they are sealed all the way around at installation, which I think makes them more air-tight. The added benefit is the increased sound barrier provided by the new window technology. 
My construction chief, Mike, did a bit of upselling during the project as part of what he does is renovate dated businesses, such as a nearby hotel. Buildings become run down quickly in the searing temps and ferocious sand storms, so upkeep often includes renovation. Mike suggested that I change out all of the door hardware as I literally had a set of keys to fit the 4 different locks on the doors without adding the new one. It was expensive, but I upgraded to Schlag high security locks and all of the doors/screens now have the same key. Mike is also urging me to let his man paint the kitchen cabinets, but I really cannot afford that project right now as I still have to buy paint to repaint areas in both my bedroom and the adjoining bath once the plaster fixes are finished. I also have all of the purchases for the project on a special project card and it, too, needs to be paid. And, I have to finish painting the guest room as I've only finished 3 walls.
Mike knows how to do most of the jobs himself, but he hires local workers and trains them to do the work as part of his crew. Thus, Christian built the redwood deck (and it is perfect), while Ephrain does all the painting projects and Pablo works wonders with wallboard and plaster, but all of them also cross train so they work on all projects as a crew. They were a well-oiled machine as they removed windows, prepped the space, set the new windows in, leveled them, caulked them, and moved to the next opening. Amazing job.
Mike found a hummingbird in my living room the first day, but we cannot figure how it got into the house. The only nearby entrance was the open garage door, but it would have had to take an erratic flight path to make it to that spot. Mike looked like a little boy as he captured the bird so gently and then carried it back to the front yard. Mia found her way outside several times, but we realized quickly when she was gone and went whistling for her. The good news is that she comes better now when I whistle for her than she ever did in the past.
I also called the police on a man who came to the door to ask me about my alarm service. What he wanted to know was if it was active or shut off, claiming that he worked for my alarm company and they were doing a survey and a test in the neighborhood. I told him that if he represented MY alarm company, he already knew the answer to that question and also told him that his claim that the company was going to do a "test" in the area was bogus. I called my alarm company, who said he was not an employee and that they never do any sort of "test" because they work one/one with the customer. I then called the police and explained to them that he never said he was selling systems, my alarm company told me he is not employed by them, and that he could just as easily be casing the neighborhood for future crimes. Believe it or not, 3 cars responded!!
He'll probably be back one night to tell me how much he appreciated my calling him on his lies, so let's hope the Schlag locks live up to their name.
Pablo will be back later today to do the outside stucco repairs, while I finish grading the final papers for the comp class and watch some football. I've baked fresh cookies each day for the crews doing the work, but held some back for Pablo's coffee break today. All in all, this has been a great project (once it finally began) and I'm glad that I set the wheels in motion. I don't have the money to do the shower, so don't know when/if that will be done, but it's next on the list.
My construction chief, Mike, did a bit of upselling during the project as part of what he does is renovate dated businesses, such as a nearby hotel. Buildings become run down quickly in the searing temps and ferocious sand storms, so upkeep often includes renovation. Mike suggested that I change out all of the door hardware as I literally had a set of keys to fit the 4 different locks on the doors without adding the new one. It was expensive, but I upgraded to Schlag high security locks and all of the doors/screens now have the same key. Mike is also urging me to let his man paint the kitchen cabinets, but I really cannot afford that project right now as I still have to buy paint to repaint areas in both my bedroom and the adjoining bath once the plaster fixes are finished. I also have all of the purchases for the project on a special project card and it, too, needs to be paid. And, I have to finish painting the guest room as I've only finished 3 walls.
Mike knows how to do most of the jobs himself, but he hires local workers and trains them to do the work as part of his crew. Thus, Christian built the redwood deck (and it is perfect), while Ephrain does all the painting projects and Pablo works wonders with wallboard and plaster, but all of them also cross train so they work on all projects as a crew. They were a well-oiled machine as they removed windows, prepped the space, set the new windows in, leveled them, caulked them, and moved to the next opening. Amazing job.
Mike found a hummingbird in my living room the first day, but we cannot figure how it got into the house. The only nearby entrance was the open garage door, but it would have had to take an erratic flight path to make it to that spot. Mike looked like a little boy as he captured the bird so gently and then carried it back to the front yard. Mia found her way outside several times, but we realized quickly when she was gone and went whistling for her. The good news is that she comes better now when I whistle for her than she ever did in the past.
I also called the police on a man who came to the door to ask me about my alarm service. What he wanted to know was if it was active or shut off, claiming that he worked for my alarm company and they were doing a survey and a test in the neighborhood. I told him that if he represented MY alarm company, he already knew the answer to that question and also told him that his claim that the company was going to do a "test" in the area was bogus. I called my alarm company, who said he was not an employee and that they never do any sort of "test" because they work one/one with the customer. I then called the police and explained to them that he never said he was selling systems, my alarm company told me he is not employed by them, and that he could just as easily be casing the neighborhood for future crimes. Believe it or not, 3 cars responded!!He'll probably be back one night to tell me how much he appreciated my calling him on his lies, so let's hope the Schlag locks live up to their name.
Pablo will be back later today to do the outside stucco repairs, while I finish grading the final papers for the comp class and watch some football. I've baked fresh cookies each day for the crews doing the work, but held some back for Pablo's coffee break today. All in all, this has been a great project (once it finally began) and I'm glad that I set the wheels in motion. I don't have the money to do the shower, so don't know when/if that will be done, but it's next on the list.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Credible Sources?
Okay, so Tiger has a sexual addiction and can't keep his private tomcat in his pants, but it seems that "everyone" knew that but the public. Within hours of the now infamous accident, a dirty dozen of "I slept with Tiger" accusers came out of the clubs, each one with fake boobs and 8x10 glossies of provocative bikini poses already in the media kit. What better boost to a porn star's career than sharing her talents with the media at Tiger's expense? An out-of-work actress? An ex-hostess for an exclusive club? A woman working hard to make it in this tough economy, but over-the-hill in the both the age and the looks department?
These women have created their own employment agency, one with limited job skills but tons of experience, it seems.
There is making bad choices, and then there is making bad choices. The girls were paid: is there no customer loyalty? These women aren't forming a parade of "Bad Tiger" girls: they are skanks and ho's who are hired to do what they did with Tiger, and God only knows how many other celebs, and paid well both by their employers and by their "clients." Can you say "yucky"? The grossest part of the whole outing? Letterman making a joke at Tiger's expense. The old saying is, "There but for the Grace of God goeth I." Oh, that's right: he's already been there, hasn't he? Talk about the pot calling out the black kettle!!
For Tiger, it is all about the sex, based on the astounding rumors of his sexual prowess, but for the women, it's all about the 15 minutes of dubious fame and fortune. Before any more women out themselves, they may want to consider how well that worked for Monica Lewinsky.
These women have created their own employment agency, one with limited job skills but tons of experience, it seems.
There is making bad choices, and then there is making bad choices. The girls were paid: is there no customer loyalty? These women aren't forming a parade of "Bad Tiger" girls: they are skanks and ho's who are hired to do what they did with Tiger, and God only knows how many other celebs, and paid well both by their employers and by their "clients." Can you say "yucky"? The grossest part of the whole outing? Letterman making a joke at Tiger's expense. The old saying is, "There but for the Grace of God goeth I." Oh, that's right: he's already been there, hasn't he? Talk about the pot calling out the black kettle!!
For Tiger, it is all about the sex, based on the astounding rumors of his sexual prowess, but for the women, it's all about the 15 minutes of dubious fame and fortune. Before any more women out themselves, they may want to consider how well that worked for Monica Lewinsky.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Pitchin' a Bitchin'
Ya know, I could hardly sleep last night because I was so excited that the window change-out was going to be done today, with the door installation and patio done tomorrow. By this weekend, I could finish the painting project in the guest room and decide whether I'm going to use that room as my office or keep things the way they are.
When I arrived back home at noon, there were no vehicles on my property, so I assumed it was lunch break. However, once I came into my house, I realized that the project I thought would be half-finished had not been started.
No workers; no construction boss; no phone call.
At 5 PM, the doorbell rang. My first question: stitches? casts? funeral services scheduled? No? Then why the hell didn't you show up or at least give me a call to say today wasn't going to be the day?
Someone at another one of his projects stole a large, expensive piece of equipment, so he's spent the day trying to track down some people who had been at that property, including a guy another guy knew who had stayed a couple of nights, but hadn't been seen in a couple of days: yada yada yada.
And, your cell phone wasn't working all day?
Here's where my mind goes. If you don't care enough about the job to give me a courtesy call before I pay you, what's going to happen when you leave, paycheck in hand? If I have a problem with the work you do, am I going to also have problems getting you on the phone? getting you to come back to make adjustments? This isn't a big deal to anyone other than me, but I'm investing a lot of my hard-earned money into changing out these windows.
It's important to me that I'm important to you. I've already paid for all of the supplies to do the job, and you want payment in full for the labor when it's completed, but ... what if I change our agreement and don't bother to let you know that I'm not going to pay you at the close of the job as we discussed because something else came up and I already spent the money I was going to use to pay you????
And, believe me, you don't win any points for starting your side of the conversation with, "I was going to call you, but I got so busy trying to find these guys that I just forgot."
When I arrived back home at noon, there were no vehicles on my property, so I assumed it was lunch break. However, once I came into my house, I realized that the project I thought would be half-finished had not been started.
No workers; no construction boss; no phone call.
At 5 PM, the doorbell rang. My first question: stitches? casts? funeral services scheduled? No? Then why the hell didn't you show up or at least give me a call to say today wasn't going to be the day?
Someone at another one of his projects stole a large, expensive piece of equipment, so he's spent the day trying to track down some people who had been at that property, including a guy another guy knew who had stayed a couple of nights, but hadn't been seen in a couple of days: yada yada yada.
And, your cell phone wasn't working all day?
Here's where my mind goes. If you don't care enough about the job to give me a courtesy call before I pay you, what's going to happen when you leave, paycheck in hand? If I have a problem with the work you do, am I going to also have problems getting you on the phone? getting you to come back to make adjustments? This isn't a big deal to anyone other than me, but I'm investing a lot of my hard-earned money into changing out these windows.
It's important to me that I'm important to you. I've already paid for all of the supplies to do the job, and you want payment in full for the labor when it's completed, but ... what if I change our agreement and don't bother to let you know that I'm not going to pay you at the close of the job as we discussed because something else came up and I already spent the money I was going to use to pay you????
And, believe me, you don't win any points for starting your side of the conversation with, "I was going to call you, but I got so busy trying to find these guys that I just forgot."
I AM SO EXCITED!
TODAY is the BIG DAY! The replacement of the rest of the windows with energy-star windows begins at 8 AM, while I'm up the hill for my class, and concludes with the construction of a small deck outside the NEW DOOR in the guest room!
WOO-HOO!
I arrived home from taking my friend to the airport to find that the wood for the deck and 6 bags of cement had been delivered. There was no call from Lowe's to tell me they were coming, so the delivery crew neatly stacked everything right in front of the garage door! In order to park my car, I first had to relocate all the supplies. Yes, I can still move six 60-pound sacks of cement and a whole lot of lumber when called upon to do so.
In early afternoon, the door and the windows were delivered, but I was there to direct the crew to the temporary storage place inside the garage. They were very nice and on their way up the hill, so I provided them with directions and sent them on their way.
I also cleaned the dog run as the installation crew will be working both inside and outside and I don't want anyone stepping in it, especially after 2 days of rain has softened the dog deposits into mushy shoe traps.
The new door for the guest room necessitates installation of an outdoor light, as well as relocation of the electrical outlet, but my construction crew boss tells me, "No problem." He did, however, forget to purchase a door handle, which could be a problem for my personal security. And, I also reminded him about the security screen door. Of course, I'm seeing yet more keys on the key chains as I don't have a common lock in the place!
Look for the photos after the changes are complete.
WOO-HOO!
I arrived home from taking my friend to the airport to find that the wood for the deck and 6 bags of cement had been delivered. There was no call from Lowe's to tell me they were coming, so the delivery crew neatly stacked everything right in front of the garage door! In order to park my car, I first had to relocate all the supplies. Yes, I can still move six 60-pound sacks of cement and a whole lot of lumber when called upon to do so.
In early afternoon, the door and the windows were delivered, but I was there to direct the crew to the temporary storage place inside the garage. They were very nice and on their way up the hill, so I provided them with directions and sent them on their way.
I also cleaned the dog run as the installation crew will be working both inside and outside and I don't want anyone stepping in it, especially after 2 days of rain has softened the dog deposits into mushy shoe traps.
The new door for the guest room necessitates installation of an outdoor light, as well as relocation of the electrical outlet, but my construction crew boss tells me, "No problem." He did, however, forget to purchase a door handle, which could be a problem for my personal security. And, I also reminded him about the security screen door. Of course, I'm seeing yet more keys on the key chains as I don't have a common lock in the place!
Look for the photos after the changes are complete.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
A Crappy Situation
Okay, so it took me several years to discover that my next-door neighbor had illegally tied his watering system into mine, but once it was (literally) uncovered during digging the foundation for the brick wall out front, I cut him off!
Now, I have new neighbors in that house and another shituation has developed. My dog, Mia, weighs in at 90 pounds. I've been cleaning up her poop for 5 years, so I know what her poop looks like. The next-door neighbors have a Chi-wah-wah, one of the bulging eyes, yippee little dogs that pepper the neighborhood. Along that side of my house, the side that shares a fence with the next-door neighbors, I have to clean up little skinny poop, not in piles, but sort of spread out. Thus, I am led to conclude that my neighbors clean their backyard by tossing it into mine.
Sure, I could march over there in righteous indignation and ask them what the hell is going on, but do I really have proof? Would they really do that? Do I really want to go there with my next-door neighbors who stay to themselves and leave me alone? Should I consider cleaning up their dog's poop the lesser of all the evils I could have to deal with in my life and just move on?
Along the back fence, bordering what I call the "Mexican Highway," the utility easement required by law to provide access to the utility poles, I always clean up a variety of poop, broken bottles, unbroken bottles, paper plates, toys, cigarettes, discarded diapers, etc. Yes, the party people behind me often clean their backyard by tossing it over the fence, which does save on paying for proper disposal. I don't say anything as long as it stays in the easement, but it often comes into my yard because we're so close to one another. Besides, part of me always hopes that if there's enough trash strewn along the easement, the gangs of roaming wanderers will start walking on the street, rather than dashing up the easement in the middle of the night!
Like that's going to happen, right?
I don't enjoy going into the dog run and cleaning up after Mia, which is why I haven't acted on my wanting to get Mia a friend to keep her company. Big piles of poop are not arractive, don't smell good, and all too quickly fill up big plastic garbage bags. I'm equally unenthused about cleaning up after other dogs, as well as my neighbors, but I guess venting in my blog is going to have to be enough as I really cannot "do" anything about it.
Mr. Rogers, is this what you wanted for me in my neighborhood?
Now, I have new neighbors in that house and another shituation has developed. My dog, Mia, weighs in at 90 pounds. I've been cleaning up her poop for 5 years, so I know what her poop looks like. The next-door neighbors have a Chi-wah-wah, one of the bulging eyes, yippee little dogs that pepper the neighborhood. Along that side of my house, the side that shares a fence with the next-door neighbors, I have to clean up little skinny poop, not in piles, but sort of spread out. Thus, I am led to conclude that my neighbors clean their backyard by tossing it into mine.
Sure, I could march over there in righteous indignation and ask them what the hell is going on, but do I really have proof? Would they really do that? Do I really want to go there with my next-door neighbors who stay to themselves and leave me alone? Should I consider cleaning up their dog's poop the lesser of all the evils I could have to deal with in my life and just move on?
Along the back fence, bordering what I call the "Mexican Highway," the utility easement required by law to provide access to the utility poles, I always clean up a variety of poop, broken bottles, unbroken bottles, paper plates, toys, cigarettes, discarded diapers, etc. Yes, the party people behind me often clean their backyard by tossing it over the fence, which does save on paying for proper disposal. I don't say anything as long as it stays in the easement, but it often comes into my yard because we're so close to one another. Besides, part of me always hopes that if there's enough trash strewn along the easement, the gangs of roaming wanderers will start walking on the street, rather than dashing up the easement in the middle of the night!
Like that's going to happen, right?
I don't enjoy going into the dog run and cleaning up after Mia, which is why I haven't acted on my wanting to get Mia a friend to keep her company. Big piles of poop are not arractive, don't smell good, and all too quickly fill up big plastic garbage bags. I'm equally unenthused about cleaning up after other dogs, as well as my neighbors, but I guess venting in my blog is going to have to be enough as I really cannot "do" anything about it.
Mr. Rogers, is this what you wanted for me in my neighborhood?
Monday, December 7, 2009
Yes, I Said It's Snowing up the Hill
It was cold this morning and a bit misty, but no big thing. Aboard the base, it began sprinkling about an hour prior to class ending and, by the time I walked out the door, it was actually raining. Out by the college, water began running in rivers across the highway, not, however, slowing traffic one whit. By the time I drove through JT, I was in weather, or what passes for weather in the desert.
Yucca was another world: the snow was falling steadily and strongly to the point that I actually considered pulling off the road. However, I knew that if I stopped, I'd be stuck, but if I continued on behind a REALLY BIG truck, I could probably keep on trucking. At a steady 30 mph, I kept following the truck all the way down the grade as the snow began to stick to the ground, as well as the highway. At the foot of that grade, however, the snow suddenly thinned out and the rain began again, so I kept on keeping on.
When I made it safely to the bottom of the Morongo grade, I had only had to deal with 2 accidents, but I'm sure there will be a whole lot more as fair weather drivers keep the pedal to the metal and hydroplane and slide their way home tonight.
Where I live? It's a nice, steady drizzly rain, just right for soaking into the sand and percolating into the water table. The good news: I don't have to go back up the hill until Wednesday. The bad news: one of my 29 friends is heading to my house to spend the night so I can take her to the airport tomorrow. When I told her it's snowing in Yucca, she told me that it's sunny where she is, well, maybe a bit rainy. Yeah, I knew that because that's where I had been two hours ago, but ... .
She may have to drive down the hill in the morning because yes, I said it's snowing in Yucca, regardless of the weather at her house.
UPDATING: I must have just made it down the Yucca grade: according to the 5 o'clock news, the grade was closed at 4:30 due to heavy snow and flooding on the highway. I arrived home at 4:30, so I was on the grade about 4:15, in the thick of things, so to speak. I called my friend and gave her the update, but they are driving down in a big 4-wheel drive truck, so I think they'll be able to get through just fine.
Yucca was another world: the snow was falling steadily and strongly to the point that I actually considered pulling off the road. However, I knew that if I stopped, I'd be stuck, but if I continued on behind a REALLY BIG truck, I could probably keep on trucking. At a steady 30 mph, I kept following the truck all the way down the grade as the snow began to stick to the ground, as well as the highway. At the foot of that grade, however, the snow suddenly thinned out and the rain began again, so I kept on keeping on.
When I made it safely to the bottom of the Morongo grade, I had only had to deal with 2 accidents, but I'm sure there will be a whole lot more as fair weather drivers keep the pedal to the metal and hydroplane and slide their way home tonight.
Where I live? It's a nice, steady drizzly rain, just right for soaking into the sand and percolating into the water table. The good news: I don't have to go back up the hill until Wednesday. The bad news: one of my 29 friends is heading to my house to spend the night so I can take her to the airport tomorrow. When I told her it's snowing in Yucca, she told me that it's sunny where she is, well, maybe a bit rainy. Yeah, I knew that because that's where I had been two hours ago, but ... .
She may have to drive down the hill in the morning because yes, I said it's snowing in Yucca, regardless of the weather at her house.
UPDATING: I must have just made it down the Yucca grade: according to the 5 o'clock news, the grade was closed at 4:30 due to heavy snow and flooding on the highway. I arrived home at 4:30, so I was on the grade about 4:15, in the thick of things, so to speak. I called my friend and gave her the update, but they are driving down in a big 4-wheel drive truck, so I think they'll be able to get through just fine.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Phone Home!
When I went to the movie theater, I turned off my phone -- and lost my service. This morning, after trying to figure out the "why" by myself, I called AT&T. Darcy explained that sometimes the phone loses service when it's turned off, but she reregistered the phone and voila! it works.
Interesting, however, that a phone can lose service if/when it's turned off! Does this mean that each time I turn it off, I'm going to have to call tech services so I can turn it back on? In all the years I've had a mobile phone, this is a first for me, and I'm really hoping it's a last, too.
My on-going dissatisfaction with Time Warner continues as, once again, the corp has made arbitrary changes to "improve customer satisfaction" with their service. The changes, however, do anything but improve customer satisfaction as they are now requiring a digital cable box for everyone who uses their service if the customer wants to continue to receive the full array of available channels. In addition, they are again switching channels, so customers who are used to finding the ABC Family channel on 43 will have to remember that it's now channel 67.
The last change involves switching other channels, so the ABC Family HD channel is going from 647 to 667, along with moves for both Bravo and Bravo HD, AMC, FX, and FX HD. So not only does the customer have to remember the channel change, but also has to remember whether they are watching "regular" TV or HD TV.
And, at the end of the first year of "free" HD TV, customers will begin paying a monthly fee to have the mandatory HD digital cable box!! Accompanied, of course, with an increase in basic cable service due to all the upgrades to improve customer satisfaction.
All kinds of little sayings pop into mind, including cutting off one's corporate nose to spite one's customer service base. Dish TV is going to see a boom in business as a result of all this latest tatic to improve customer satisfaction from T-W.
Interesting, however, that a phone can lose service if/when it's turned off! Does this mean that each time I turn it off, I'm going to have to call tech services so I can turn it back on? In all the years I've had a mobile phone, this is a first for me, and I'm really hoping it's a last, too.
My on-going dissatisfaction with Time Warner continues as, once again, the corp has made arbitrary changes to "improve customer satisfaction" with their service. The changes, however, do anything but improve customer satisfaction as they are now requiring a digital cable box for everyone who uses their service if the customer wants to continue to receive the full array of available channels. In addition, they are again switching channels, so customers who are used to finding the ABC Family channel on 43 will have to remember that it's now channel 67.
The last change involves switching other channels, so the ABC Family HD channel is going from 647 to 667, along with moves for both Bravo and Bravo HD, AMC, FX, and FX HD. So not only does the customer have to remember the channel change, but also has to remember whether they are watching "regular" TV or HD TV.
And, at the end of the first year of "free" HD TV, customers will begin paying a monthly fee to have the mandatory HD digital cable box!! Accompanied, of course, with an increase in basic cable service due to all the upgrades to improve customer satisfaction.
All kinds of little sayings pop into mind, including cutting off one's corporate nose to spite one's customer service base. Dish TV is going to see a boom in business as a result of all this latest tatic to improve customer satisfaction from T-W.
Let's Party ... Again!
The incredibly loud music from the live bands at the neighborhood parties is mostly doable, but there are some bands that push the limits well into the wee morning hours. To the west of me, behind me about a block, is a party house: at least every other weekend there is a well-attended party that often features the same live band, judging from the same musicality I hear when there's a party.
I've tuned it out every other time, but this morning? It kept getting louder and louder as the hours ticked by. Finally, at 1:00 AM, I called the police department and asked dispatch to send officers by to tell the revelers to turn down the volume. There were whistles and sirens, as well as what has to be an electronic drum set as I've never heard drums that loud. When the dispatch asked me where the party was, all I could say is behind my house at least a block over, but as loud as if it were in my backyard!
Thankfully, by 1:30 AM the music volume had been turned down, although it continued until well after 2 AM, when I was finally able to go back to sleep.
I've tuned it out every other time, but this morning? It kept getting louder and louder as the hours ticked by. Finally, at 1:00 AM, I called the police department and asked dispatch to send officers by to tell the revelers to turn down the volume. There were whistles and sirens, as well as what has to be an electronic drum set as I've never heard drums that loud. When the dispatch asked me where the party was, all I could say is behind my house at least a block over, but as loud as if it were in my backyard!
Thankfully, by 1:30 AM the music volume had been turned down, although it continued until well after 2 AM, when I was finally able to go back to sleep.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Not So Precious After All
If the overly-hyped Precious isn't drawing the crowds Oprah hoped it would, I'm going to suggest that it's because it's not a very good story, nor is it filmed well. Blurry, out-of-focus shots compete with constant, needless camera movement and sudden black-outs between scene changes. Precious "tells" the story and also acts it: choose one or the other as a combination of both is a distraction. And, actually, the story just isn't very good, compelling, interesting, real -- pick a word, any word, that captures the essence of mediocre.
It's not a good film because it's too raw, too stereotypical, too racist, too vulgar, too poorly acted, and too poorly presented. I am offended by the "motherfucking" vocabulary, the extreme physical violence, the (*)incestual sex, the unwanted babies and teen mothers, and the emphasis on fried food, living the welfare lifestyle, and going through life unable to read/write/do simple math. If you don't want me to believe the stereotypes, don't make them the focal point of the film. As a white person, it's what I've always thought to be true and, as a black person, it's not a very positive portrayal of the race. Do ALL black people live on welfare, lie about their qualifications for the program to get more money, spend their money on cigarettes, fried food and booze? Are all black parents bad parents who abuse their children in more ways than the average psych textbook details? Are all black teens sexually active and unwilling to get an education or change their futures by getting jobs because their role models are rappers, professional athletes, and drug dealers?
No? Go see the film and that's the message you'll get.
The black teen actress who plays Precious ("this is my story," she states) is hugely fat and physically unattractive, with a flat affect and the compliant personality of a dish cloth until another student calls her fat. Then, she punches the girl without a second thought. Her mother is, in the daughter's characterization of her, "a couch whale" who does nothing day in and day out. She smokes constantly, watches TV, verbally, physically, and emotionally abuses her daughter, and allows her boyfriend, who is also Precious's father, to have sex with his daughter to keep him coming back around, affirming the stereotype of the black woman who can doll herself up to have sex with a man or go to the welfare office, but cannot pull herself up and get a job, marry him and hold him accountable, or go on with her life without him.
Precious escapes from the depths of her troubled life through role-playing fantasies, especially while she's being raped, looking for salvation in a media-driven future life when she'll wear beautiful clothes, have a hot man at her side, and earn lots of money for herself. However, that fantasy is not her life, nor her future. Her first-born is called Mongo, short for Mongoloid, because the little girl is a Down Syndrome baby. The baby lives with the g'mother, who brings her to the daughter's apartment when it's time for a visit from the Welfare worker assigned to verify their living conditions. The entire family's life is centered around getting the monthly welfare check, with the g'mother, the mother, and Precious willing to do/say whatever it takes to keep the money coming in so they can continue to live a dead-end life on the taxpayer's dime.
There is no message of hope: this is the way it is if you're black, and this is the way it's going to be if you're black. School is a joke: the teacher prepares a lesson for students who are tuned in to their own self-interests and totally tuned out to school, which they attend to keep the welfare spigot turned on. The girls dress, act, and talk like future prostitutes, turning all their effort and charm on getting a guy who'll give them a baby so they can add to the family's welfare income. The ego-centric guys drip in gold chains, talk smack, and grab their crotches to show their potential value to the girls walking by on the street. The grafitti is the dominant decorating scheme in the subsidized housing and the physical violence is beyond belief as the basic parenting skill of the women who have children to raise, no job skills, and no family support.
When Precious walks down the sidewalk at the end of the film, a baby in arms and a disabled child alongside, it's not a moment of hope, but a foreboding of a future of endless desperation. She's not going to finish her education; she's not going to attract a man to love her, marry her, build a family with her. She's going to repeat the lifestyle and abuse cycle her mother established, and then her children will teach it to their children. There is no hope that Precious will break free, that Precious will be "the one" in the neighborhood to make it out and up. They all have dreams of making it big on TV, but lack the tools, the talent, and the determination to make their dreams come true -- whatever those dreams may be.
Just because the film is (allegedly) about "The Black Experience" does not make it worth seeing. I remember walking out of a Spike Lee film many years ago that was required as part of a college class I was taking. I was offended by the constant stream of obscenities that substituted for an actual language (the students at the alternative school literally do not know the alphabet), the portrayal of black people as ignorant stereotypes (in the film Precious does not know the difference between the word insect and the word incest), and the constant sexuality that led me then to believe that if you're black, the reason you don't have time for anything worthwhile is that you're too busy having sex (the girls in the classroom change the old playground chant to "...sitting in a tree, f-u-c-k-i-n-g").
Seems as if, some twenty-five years later, not much has changed, judging from this year's Oprah offering, which is anything but Precious.
(*) A reader commented on my usage of this term, incestual sex, rather than the word rape, to describe the father's sexual violation of his daughter. The feeling from the film developed a sense of entitlement to the fathers and/or boyfriends from the unmarried women who gave birth to daughters. In the film it is NOT just Precious who is raped by the man she also knew as her biological father, but the incest is presented more as a cultural practice than an illegal criminal action.
It's not a good film because it's too raw, too stereotypical, too racist, too vulgar, too poorly acted, and too poorly presented. I am offended by the "motherfucking" vocabulary, the extreme physical violence, the (*)incestual sex, the unwanted babies and teen mothers, and the emphasis on fried food, living the welfare lifestyle, and going through life unable to read/write/do simple math. If you don't want me to believe the stereotypes, don't make them the focal point of the film. As a white person, it's what I've always thought to be true and, as a black person, it's not a very positive portrayal of the race. Do ALL black people live on welfare, lie about their qualifications for the program to get more money, spend their money on cigarettes, fried food and booze? Are all black parents bad parents who abuse their children in more ways than the average psych textbook details? Are all black teens sexually active and unwilling to get an education or change their futures by getting jobs because their role models are rappers, professional athletes, and drug dealers?
No? Go see the film and that's the message you'll get.
The black teen actress who plays Precious ("this is my story," she states) is hugely fat and physically unattractive, with a flat affect and the compliant personality of a dish cloth until another student calls her fat. Then, she punches the girl without a second thought. Her mother is, in the daughter's characterization of her, "a couch whale" who does nothing day in and day out. She smokes constantly, watches TV, verbally, physically, and emotionally abuses her daughter, and allows her boyfriend, who is also Precious's father, to have sex with his daughter to keep him coming back around, affirming the stereotype of the black woman who can doll herself up to have sex with a man or go to the welfare office, but cannot pull herself up and get a job, marry him and hold him accountable, or go on with her life without him.
Precious escapes from the depths of her troubled life through role-playing fantasies, especially while she's being raped, looking for salvation in a media-driven future life when she'll wear beautiful clothes, have a hot man at her side, and earn lots of money for herself. However, that fantasy is not her life, nor her future. Her first-born is called Mongo, short for Mongoloid, because the little girl is a Down Syndrome baby. The baby lives with the g'mother, who brings her to the daughter's apartment when it's time for a visit from the Welfare worker assigned to verify their living conditions. The entire family's life is centered around getting the monthly welfare check, with the g'mother, the mother, and Precious willing to do/say whatever it takes to keep the money coming in so they can continue to live a dead-end life on the taxpayer's dime.
There is no message of hope: this is the way it is if you're black, and this is the way it's going to be if you're black. School is a joke: the teacher prepares a lesson for students who are tuned in to their own self-interests and totally tuned out to school, which they attend to keep the welfare spigot turned on. The girls dress, act, and talk like future prostitutes, turning all their effort and charm on getting a guy who'll give them a baby so they can add to the family's welfare income. The ego-centric guys drip in gold chains, talk smack, and grab their crotches to show their potential value to the girls walking by on the street. The grafitti is the dominant decorating scheme in the subsidized housing and the physical violence is beyond belief as the basic parenting skill of the women who have children to raise, no job skills, and no family support.
When Precious walks down the sidewalk at the end of the film, a baby in arms and a disabled child alongside, it's not a moment of hope, but a foreboding of a future of endless desperation. She's not going to finish her education; she's not going to attract a man to love her, marry her, build a family with her. She's going to repeat the lifestyle and abuse cycle her mother established, and then her children will teach it to their children. There is no hope that Precious will break free, that Precious will be "the one" in the neighborhood to make it out and up. They all have dreams of making it big on TV, but lack the tools, the talent, and the determination to make their dreams come true -- whatever those dreams may be.
Just because the film is (allegedly) about "The Black Experience" does not make it worth seeing. I remember walking out of a Spike Lee film many years ago that was required as part of a college class I was taking. I was offended by the constant stream of obscenities that substituted for an actual language (the students at the alternative school literally do not know the alphabet), the portrayal of black people as ignorant stereotypes (in the film Precious does not know the difference between the word insect and the word incest), and the constant sexuality that led me then to believe that if you're black, the reason you don't have time for anything worthwhile is that you're too busy having sex (the girls in the classroom change the old playground chant to "...sitting in a tree, f-u-c-k-i-n-g").
Seems as if, some twenty-five years later, not much has changed, judging from this year's Oprah offering, which is anything but Precious.
(*) A reader commented on my usage of this term, incestual sex, rather than the word rape, to describe the father's sexual violation of his daughter. The feeling from the film developed a sense of entitlement to the fathers and/or boyfriends from the unmarried women who gave birth to daughters. In the film it is NOT just Precious who is raped by the man she also knew as her biological father, but the incest is presented more as a cultural practice than an illegal criminal action.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
A Moldy Oldy
When the tile floor was installed in the bathrooms, the installer removed the toilets and then reinstalled them. The toilet in the master has been rocking and rolling for the past few years, leading me at one point to drive a wedge between the tile and the toilet bowl.
While cleaning the house for T'giving company, I noticed there was a black border around the base of the toilet bowl. I zapped it with bleach and it disappeared, but yesterday morning, again cleaning the bathrooms, I noticed the black was not only back, but fuzzy, a sure indication of mold -- one of my primary asthma triggers.
My plumber came today, unbolted the toilet, and exposed the very wet floor underneath the toilet covered with mold. He cleaned it up while shaking his head at the shoddy installation of the toilet, and then did the job correctly. He killed the mold with bleach and said it won't come back now that the slow water leak is fixed and a new wax ring is in place.
Job done. Again. I wish I had a dollar back for every one I've spent doing jobs, then having to hire another person to redo the same job.
While cleaning the house for T'giving company, I noticed there was a black border around the base of the toilet bowl. I zapped it with bleach and it disappeared, but yesterday morning, again cleaning the bathrooms, I noticed the black was not only back, but fuzzy, a sure indication of mold -- one of my primary asthma triggers.
My plumber came today, unbolted the toilet, and exposed the very wet floor underneath the toilet covered with mold. He cleaned it up while shaking his head at the shoddy installation of the toilet, and then did the job correctly. He killed the mold with bleach and said it won't come back now that the slow water leak is fixed and a new wax ring is in place.
Job done. Again. I wish I had a dollar back for every one I've spent doing jobs, then having to hire another person to redo the same job.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
The Way I See It ...
1. There is no "win" in war. The Middle East has been at war for centuries: no surge or conventional warfare is going to change that. If we aren't going to drop the bomb and literally level the field of battle, let's try leaving them to their own devices. It's their decision to IED themselves into oblivion if the PEOPLE who are being bombed won't stand up for their own safety. We have serious work to do within our own borders, so either get it done or get the hell out of the Middle East.
2. Yes, they did it for the show and their well-rehearsed press conference to the contrary lacked believability. They knew their lines better than Raven, but it was the same scam. Turn the cameras off the party crashers.
3. The record-breaking profits in the auto industry were made on the backs of the taxpayers who funded the Cash for Clunkers program, not by a new business model or a new product line or new consumer-friendly pricing strategies. The auto industry cannot rebound until cars are once again available at prices the consumer can afford. The MAJORITY of the consumer base cannot afford $40k even when stretched out with a 5-year payment plan that adds another third of the purchase price in interest!
4. Contrary to public opinion, Tiger Woods' personal life is his business. Neither he nor his wife nor anyone else associated with the Tiger Woods brand needs to explain what happened -- or did not happen. Tiger adhered to the letter of the law; it was no big deal; we need to move on, people.
5. The new financial philosophy needs to hammer home the "live within your means" point, rather than exhorting the consumer to spend, spend, spend its way out of "these tough economic times." The cycle of living on credit cannot continue, no matter what enticements the businesses and/or the credit card vendors offer to help the public through "these tough economic times." Don't spend money you don't have and you'll be debt-free. Eventually.
6. The family members who sheltered the career criminal who gunned down four police officers catching up on paperwork at a local coffee shop should be prosecuted as accessories after the fact. Their perspective that the man was mentally ill and deserved to be treated humanely, not hunted down like a common criminal, lacks substance: he murdered four innocent men in a public place, then ran! The family hid him, obstructing a murder investigation and putting the entire community into jeopardy, and now cry on the TV news to take the onus off their actions. Nope. Hold ALL criminals accountable for their actions, even those who commit a crime for which they do not want to go to jail.
7. I willingly throw out a head of lettuce that has gone bad because, face it, tearing up lettuce for lunch doesn't do it for a sugar addict, but I refuse to toss out the sweet rolls I made for b'fast! Priorities skew when it's an emotional time of the year. Really, Santa, I've been good for months and months and months!
8. No matter how many donations I make to worthy charities, there are always several more in tomorrow's mail. I hate saying "no" to any of them, but I'm drowning in donations.
9. It offends me that so many employees do their holiday shopping by computer during the workday. It equally offends me that the media covers the increase in the number of employees doing their holiday shopping on the company dime as if it were another work-related task during the day. If people have that much leisure time to spend doing personal business during the workday, either cut their hours or dock their pay or charge them a usage fee for the company equipment. When I'm on the clock, I'm on the clock!
10. Hurrah to everyone who loves Christmas and celebrates it for days on end. My only request for Christmas this year? Leave those of us who are not so enamored alone to do our own thing. Don't extend invitations to holiday parties we don't want to attend. Don't ask us to go shopping with you because that is probably one of the aspects of the holiday with which we are less than enchanted. Don't ask us to share your holiday dinner so we "don't have to eat alone." I am used to making my own decisions the other 50 weeks of the year, so allow me the courtesy of doing the same during the holiday season. I'm okay with that. Really.
All done.
2. Yes, they did it for the show and their well-rehearsed press conference to the contrary lacked believability. They knew their lines better than Raven, but it was the same scam. Turn the cameras off the party crashers.
3. The record-breaking profits in the auto industry were made on the backs of the taxpayers who funded the Cash for Clunkers program, not by a new business model or a new product line or new consumer-friendly pricing strategies. The auto industry cannot rebound until cars are once again available at prices the consumer can afford. The MAJORITY of the consumer base cannot afford $40k even when stretched out with a 5-year payment plan that adds another third of the purchase price in interest!
4. Contrary to public opinion, Tiger Woods' personal life is his business. Neither he nor his wife nor anyone else associated with the Tiger Woods brand needs to explain what happened -- or did not happen. Tiger adhered to the letter of the law; it was no big deal; we need to move on, people.
5. The new financial philosophy needs to hammer home the "live within your means" point, rather than exhorting the consumer to spend, spend, spend its way out of "these tough economic times." The cycle of living on credit cannot continue, no matter what enticements the businesses and/or the credit card vendors offer to help the public through "these tough economic times." Don't spend money you don't have and you'll be debt-free. Eventually.
6. The family members who sheltered the career criminal who gunned down four police officers catching up on paperwork at a local coffee shop should be prosecuted as accessories after the fact. Their perspective that the man was mentally ill and deserved to be treated humanely, not hunted down like a common criminal, lacks substance: he murdered four innocent men in a public place, then ran! The family hid him, obstructing a murder investigation and putting the entire community into jeopardy, and now cry on the TV news to take the onus off their actions. Nope. Hold ALL criminals accountable for their actions, even those who commit a crime for which they do not want to go to jail.
7. I willingly throw out a head of lettuce that has gone bad because, face it, tearing up lettuce for lunch doesn't do it for a sugar addict, but I refuse to toss out the sweet rolls I made for b'fast! Priorities skew when it's an emotional time of the year. Really, Santa, I've been good for months and months and months!
8. No matter how many donations I make to worthy charities, there are always several more in tomorrow's mail. I hate saying "no" to any of them, but I'm drowning in donations.
9. It offends me that so many employees do their holiday shopping by computer during the workday. It equally offends me that the media covers the increase in the number of employees doing their holiday shopping on the company dime as if it were another work-related task during the day. If people have that much leisure time to spend doing personal business during the workday, either cut their hours or dock their pay or charge them a usage fee for the company equipment. When I'm on the clock, I'm on the clock!
10. Hurrah to everyone who loves Christmas and celebrates it for days on end. My only request for Christmas this year? Leave those of us who are not so enamored alone to do our own thing. Don't extend invitations to holiday parties we don't want to attend. Don't ask us to go shopping with you because that is probably one of the aspects of the holiday with which we are less than enchanted. Don't ask us to share your holiday dinner so we "don't have to eat alone." I am used to making my own decisions the other 50 weeks of the year, so allow me the courtesy of doing the same during the holiday season. I'm okay with that. Really.
All done.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Back to the Same Old Routine
Sunday was a lazy day, but we finally hit the local mall and planned to see the spectacular light show at the Living Desert after we finished shopping. Imagine our surprise to arrive about 4 pm so we could get a parking space only to learn that the park closes at 5 pm. The light show, which is a huge attraction, was open over the long weekend, but did not include Sunday. It will reopen between Christmas and New Year's, but that's it. I was completely disappointed as it's such a wonderfully festive kick off to Christmas, but I guess financially it's become an issue that has forced pull-backs.
The trip to the airport was short and clear sailing, but could just as easily have been a traffic nightmare such as the one I encountered returning from teaching Monday classes. In the middle of YV, the highway was shut down! No traffic control officers in place to untangle the snarl of four lanes filled with all manner of vehicles. As a local, I was able to make a quick left and run parallel to the problem, which should have been the direction provided by traffic control had there been someone assigned to that task.
However, on the other side of that obstruction was a major accident! Again, I hopped onto surface roads to make my way around the new shut-down, only to find a disabled natural gas delivery truck blocking the roadway, surrounded by a huge wrecker in the process of changing a flat front tire. It was challenging to get around that obstacle without being hit by all the other vehicles trying to get around the two accidents that had shut down the major thoroughfare as there are those drivers who have to whip around you to get there ... first? It must be a game to some drivers to go full throttle through the congestion, weaving in and out, but I'm all for letting them have their way, rather than being the next accident on Highway 62!
Once I was back on the road and headed down the YV grade toward home, I was slowed to a crawl by another accident: a Jeep tangled with another natural gas delivery truck and came out on the losing end. It appeared that the Jeep had both rolled and skidded along its side, ending against someone's front yard landscaping. Finally, on the last leg of the trip, a couple in an SUV evidently swerved off the road at the big sweeping bend in the road and landed in the soft desert sand callawampus, as we used to say, the back end buried. Another wrecker was in the process of pulling them out onto the road.
Mia was glad to see me, but kept going to the couch where g'son slept during his visit and then down the hallway to the guest room, looking for the other humans we shared space with for a few days. We all had a good time, but the days rush by too quickly when you live so far apart. I got the call last night that both dotter and g'son are home safely after a long, but good day of travel.
And life returns to the same old routine!
The trip to the airport was short and clear sailing, but could just as easily have been a traffic nightmare such as the one I encountered returning from teaching Monday classes. In the middle of YV, the highway was shut down! No traffic control officers in place to untangle the snarl of four lanes filled with all manner of vehicles. As a local, I was able to make a quick left and run parallel to the problem, which should have been the direction provided by traffic control had there been someone assigned to that task.
However, on the other side of that obstruction was a major accident! Again, I hopped onto surface roads to make my way around the new shut-down, only to find a disabled natural gas delivery truck blocking the roadway, surrounded by a huge wrecker in the process of changing a flat front tire. It was challenging to get around that obstacle without being hit by all the other vehicles trying to get around the two accidents that had shut down the major thoroughfare as there are those drivers who have to whip around you to get there ... first? It must be a game to some drivers to go full throttle through the congestion, weaving in and out, but I'm all for letting them have their way, rather than being the next accident on Highway 62!
Once I was back on the road and headed down the YV grade toward home, I was slowed to a crawl by another accident: a Jeep tangled with another natural gas delivery truck and came out on the losing end. It appeared that the Jeep had both rolled and skidded along its side, ending against someone's front yard landscaping. Finally, on the last leg of the trip, a couple in an SUV evidently swerved off the road at the big sweeping bend in the road and landed in the soft desert sand callawampus, as we used to say, the back end buried. Another wrecker was in the process of pulling them out onto the road.
Mia was glad to see me, but kept going to the couch where g'son slept during his visit and then down the hallway to the guest room, looking for the other humans we shared space with for a few days. We all had a good time, but the days rush by too quickly when you live so far apart. I got the call last night that both dotter and g'son are home safely after a long, but good day of travel.
And life returns to the same old routine!
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