After last night's little escapades, I called Code Enforcement today and pitched a bitch about the abandoned property next door. Surprise: within 1/2 hour, two men were going through the property and spent another 15 minutes talking to me about what they are going to do, when they are going to do it, and what action(s) I can take if/when there are any further incidents regarding the property.
It's been abandoned for 3 years, but stayed pretty much okay until the past year, when people began having what I deem "gang" meetings in the abandoned garage: bangers and booze is not a good combination. Then, I began noticing lights on, windows open, foot traffic that seemed to be coming through the fence from the property on the other side wherein there are always 6-8 cars parked and at least a dozen people living in the house. I think they broke through the fence and began using the upstairs apartment as an adjunct living quarters. Then there was the day that the guy removed the screen door off the back apartment, the day I stayed on with police dispatch hoping to have the theft stopped and the thief apprehended. No such luck: he was stopped down the road and directed to return the stolen property to the place from which he had taken it. No harm; no foul. When I told the code enforcement officer about that incident, perhaps 3-4 weeks ago, he was pissed that it had not been reported to his office by the polic department.
I know a young woman was being held on the property, either a "crack whore" or a victim of an abuser, because I saw him leading her off the property a couple of times, holding tightly to her arm. She was dressed in pajamas each time I saw them, but I haven't seen them around for a couple of weeks. Last time I saw them, she looked at me with that thousand-yard stare that sent chills up my back.
Last night, it was two men dressed in black on the property. The dogs were going nuts, but without lights on the abandoned property, it was challenging for me to see what was going on. I do know that the copper pipes from the top apartment to the faucet at ground level were pulled off and taken. The front screen was pried open and the front door left open. I heard glass breaking last night, but the code enforcement employees did not see any evidence of a broken window.
The plan is to board the place up, including the double garage, remove all the meters, notify the bank of non-compliance, then start adding up the fines. It worked for the abandoned home across the street because the bank hired renovators to come in and rehab that property for (hopefully) sale. I told the code enforcement officer that I'd love to see that happen to the place next door because not only do I not have a snowball's chance in hell of selling my home, but neither will the bank be able to sell the newly-rehabbed place across the street from it!!
Today is Day One of let's see what happens/when. I was promised that the place will be boarded up by the end of the workday tomorrow, so I'll keep track of progress. Meanwhile, B is going to install yet another outside light on that side of my property, at the front of the garage. It won't prevent anything from happening, but it'll make me feel better knowing that there is light beyond my front door.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
The 900 Club
The day word came to me that a colleague had accessed my blog and was sending the link to the site administrator because it was "obvious" I was writing about my worksite, I called my son and told him to delete the blog immediately. Yes, I was writing about my worksite, but not using specific names/identifying information in the process. However, the person who accessed my blog is one of the most vicious co-workers I've ever met, much less had to endure, and I knew that my freedom of speech rights would not save me from her innuendo, slander, and lies -- because I'd already been victimized by her and learned that she could act with impunity, while the rest of the staff was held to a different standard. I have learned the hard way not to provide her kind of person access to control over my life because, for some people, controlling other people's destiny is a game they play day in and day out. I've learned that the only person who should have control over my life is me; if I abdicate my own control over my own life, then I deserve whatever results from that decision. Delete the blog.
Today, I'm writing Blog 900 since I started over. I write about me, my world, my ideas, my feelings, my perspective. My intent is not to change anyone else's mind, but to clarify my own thinking by putting my words onto paper and see if they stand the test of time.
I grew up in the standard dysfunctional family, with alcholism the foundation for function, so I know how the one who cannot function dictates how everyone else functions. I also was terrorized by my mother, who told me prior to her death that she never much cared for me and admitted she didn't know why, but it was too late to worry about it by that point in both our lives. Prior to her death, I wondered if I would live the rest of my life with regret or relief, and it's been a blessing to realize the relief won. I no longer feel guilty because I had no idea how to be my mother's daughter, probably because no matter how hard I tried or how many different ways I tried, I failed because it was my mother's issue, not mine. As Dr. Laura says, "it's out of my control," so all I can do is live my life and not try to fix anyone else's life. When I learned to walk away from the scathing condemnation and just live my life, my life improved, while my mother's stayed the same.
That was the lesson I had to learn: my life improved, while my mother's stayed the same. I've been applying that lesson to other aspects of my life, and I'm a happier person for doing so.
The other day, when a friend began harassing and berating me, I stood stone still and said, "Stop that! You are not just being mean to me, but you are hurting my feelings!"
When he continued with his ranting and raving, I said, "Stop that! You are attacking me for something that is beyond my control at this time. I am not going to listen to you!" I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving him to do what he's going to do without my participation.
Yesterday, he came back, and he apologized to me for first, being mean, and then, more importantly, for hurting my feelings. He said he did not even hear me because he was geared up for his own rant for his own reasons. I accepted his apology, but then walked away again because I did not want to beat a dead horse, just thank him for apologizing and be done with the incident.
While I was growing up, we (my family) didn't have feelings. We were automatons who lived life on a rigid schedule and had work, work, work as our primary focus. We were judged on the job we did, or the job we redid until we got it right. I learned at an early age that what I do is more important than who I am. For too many years of my life, there was no me, no individual person, until my world came crashing down on me in 1997, when I learned that it did not matter what I did or how well I did it. My dysfunction became my personal weakness, and when other people in your life realize your weakness, they have a portal for destroying you.
I survived, but I have never been the same person again. My self to that time was lost, and it took a long, long time for me to find a self that could become me so I could continue with my life. There were many times that I wished simply to die, to be done with this life because it was incredibly painful to be a me I didn't know and an I I couldn't live with. I could no longer immerse myself in work and make the pain go away because my work-as-my-self was taken from me. I had no idea how to be me because I had never in my life known who I was, especially separate from my work. I lived in a hole and pulled the cover over that dark place to keep myself safe from ever being attacked again as I was at that time, in that place, and by that person.
Today, I'm out of the hole, experimenting with this person I try to become. I don't socialize much because I don't trust people. In the last several years, I've had to cut people out of my life because I realized that I was setting myself up again for other dysfunctional people who perceived my personal weaknesses and were using them to prop up their own dysfunctional lives. I watch people with whom I come into contact in the course of my work day, and I see the same people from my past darkness, the ones who share their surface selflessness with colleagues, but hide their egocentrically driven selves until it benefits them to spring upon their unwary adversary. I watched one colleague set up another over the past year and tried to warn her that she had an enemy. When the trap was sprung, I saw the smile of victory upon the lips of the conqueror and the tightly-shut door of the vanquished. Been there/done that; won't ever be there or do that again.
It's ugly when life is merely a game that some people are determined to win at any cost. For me, life is about how I play the game, not whether I win or lose. I enjoy what I do regardless of the outcome, but I've learned that is not the strategy of the rest of the world. In an experiment, I set myself up to play 1000 games of Free Cell to see what my winning percentage would be when I finished game 1000. I am proud to say that I reached 77%, but to the majority of the world, that's only a C+. For me, that's better than good because I play to enjoy the game, not to win every hand. If I apply this life lesson to my life, I can expect to win 77% of the time just by enjoying whatever happens. If I focus on the 23% of the time that I'm going to lose, my life is also going to focus on losing, rather than enjoying the winning that seems to happen often enough to be just right for me.
I'm at Blog 900 and it's all about me, me, me, a focus I tried to limit during the past writing, but which statistically probably has resulted in 675 blogs, compared to 225 blogs about the rest of the world. I enjoy celebrating my wins, especially when I play the game my way, rather than allowing anyone else to dictate who I am, who I c/should be, and how my life is going. Perhaps I need to work more on leveling the blogs to more fairly represent the rest of the world, but we have news readers to do that for us, right?
Today, I'm writing Blog 900 since I started over. I write about me, my world, my ideas, my feelings, my perspective. My intent is not to change anyone else's mind, but to clarify my own thinking by putting my words onto paper and see if they stand the test of time.
I grew up in the standard dysfunctional family, with alcholism the foundation for function, so I know how the one who cannot function dictates how everyone else functions. I also was terrorized by my mother, who told me prior to her death that she never much cared for me and admitted she didn't know why, but it was too late to worry about it by that point in both our lives. Prior to her death, I wondered if I would live the rest of my life with regret or relief, and it's been a blessing to realize the relief won. I no longer feel guilty because I had no idea how to be my mother's daughter, probably because no matter how hard I tried or how many different ways I tried, I failed because it was my mother's issue, not mine. As Dr. Laura says, "it's out of my control," so all I can do is live my life and not try to fix anyone else's life. When I learned to walk away from the scathing condemnation and just live my life, my life improved, while my mother's stayed the same.
That was the lesson I had to learn: my life improved, while my mother's stayed the same. I've been applying that lesson to other aspects of my life, and I'm a happier person for doing so.
The other day, when a friend began harassing and berating me, I stood stone still and said, "Stop that! You are not just being mean to me, but you are hurting my feelings!"
When he continued with his ranting and raving, I said, "Stop that! You are attacking me for something that is beyond my control at this time. I am not going to listen to you!" I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving him to do what he's going to do without my participation.
Yesterday, he came back, and he apologized to me for first, being mean, and then, more importantly, for hurting my feelings. He said he did not even hear me because he was geared up for his own rant for his own reasons. I accepted his apology, but then walked away again because I did not want to beat a dead horse, just thank him for apologizing and be done with the incident.
While I was growing up, we (my family) didn't have feelings. We were automatons who lived life on a rigid schedule and had work, work, work as our primary focus. We were judged on the job we did, or the job we redid until we got it right. I learned at an early age that what I do is more important than who I am. For too many years of my life, there was no me, no individual person, until my world came crashing down on me in 1997, when I learned that it did not matter what I did or how well I did it. My dysfunction became my personal weakness, and when other people in your life realize your weakness, they have a portal for destroying you.
I survived, but I have never been the same person again. My self to that time was lost, and it took a long, long time for me to find a self that could become me so I could continue with my life. There were many times that I wished simply to die, to be done with this life because it was incredibly painful to be a me I didn't know and an I I couldn't live with. I could no longer immerse myself in work and make the pain go away because my work-as-my-self was taken from me. I had no idea how to be me because I had never in my life known who I was, especially separate from my work. I lived in a hole and pulled the cover over that dark place to keep myself safe from ever being attacked again as I was at that time, in that place, and by that person.
Today, I'm out of the hole, experimenting with this person I try to become. I don't socialize much because I don't trust people. In the last several years, I've had to cut people out of my life because I realized that I was setting myself up again for other dysfunctional people who perceived my personal weaknesses and were using them to prop up their own dysfunctional lives. I watch people with whom I come into contact in the course of my work day, and I see the same people from my past darkness, the ones who share their surface selflessness with colleagues, but hide their egocentrically driven selves until it benefits them to spring upon their unwary adversary. I watched one colleague set up another over the past year and tried to warn her that she had an enemy. When the trap was sprung, I saw the smile of victory upon the lips of the conqueror and the tightly-shut door of the vanquished. Been there/done that; won't ever be there or do that again.
It's ugly when life is merely a game that some people are determined to win at any cost. For me, life is about how I play the game, not whether I win or lose. I enjoy what I do regardless of the outcome, but I've learned that is not the strategy of the rest of the world. In an experiment, I set myself up to play 1000 games of Free Cell to see what my winning percentage would be when I finished game 1000. I am proud to say that I reached 77%, but to the majority of the world, that's only a C+. For me, that's better than good because I play to enjoy the game, not to win every hand. If I apply this life lesson to my life, I can expect to win 77% of the time just by enjoying whatever happens. If I focus on the 23% of the time that I'm going to lose, my life is also going to focus on losing, rather than enjoying the winning that seems to happen often enough to be just right for me.
I'm at Blog 900 and it's all about me, me, me, a focus I tried to limit during the past writing, but which statistically probably has resulted in 675 blogs, compared to 225 blogs about the rest of the world. I enjoy celebrating my wins, especially when I play the game my way, rather than allowing anyone else to dictate who I am, who I c/should be, and how my life is going. Perhaps I need to work more on leveling the blogs to more fairly represent the rest of the world, but we have news readers to do that for us, right?
Monday, March 28, 2011
Local Showers
The desert has enjoyed some shower activity this past week: tearing out my old fiberglass prefab shower and replacing it with a beautiful tiled shower.
I told my friend, who has done several shower remodels, to make it happen. He threw a couple of curveballs at the tile guy, including purchasing 13" tiles, rather than the 12" tiles he told me and the tile guy he planned for the reno. And, he added in the band of glass tiles to further throw the whole project off from the git-go, but the end result has been worth the effort. I have a little bench in the corner, as well as two alcoves for the shower stuff we all take with us. Perhaps the best part is the glass doors. I love the classy look they give to the bathroom, while still providing me a bit of privacy by not being completely clear.
I don't get to try the new facility until the grout is sealed, and I'm not sure when that will be. Because I've been using the guest bathroom, I replaced the shower head in there as the old one was basically useless. Don't know these things if I don't use the facility, so that's another lesson learned. The shower head in the new shower stall is one of the larger "rain forest" heads, so I'll give it a try before I replace it, and keep it if I like the water effect.
There is another gallon of green paint to repaint the walls, but I'm going to wait on the painting for a week or so and let the bathroom tell me what color it wants to be. It may not want to be green.
The project was one of those bigger expenses that cost me my total salary for teaching this semester, but it needed to be done and now it's finished. The last item on my to-do list is refinish the kitchen cabinets and add handles, but I don't see that happening any time soon.
However, I am starting April off with an April shower!
I told my friend, who has done several shower remodels, to make it happen. He threw a couple of curveballs at the tile guy, including purchasing 13" tiles, rather than the 12" tiles he told me and the tile guy he planned for the reno. And, he added in the band of glass tiles to further throw the whole project off from the git-go, but the end result has been worth the effort. I have a little bench in the corner, as well as two alcoves for the shower stuff we all take with us. Perhaps the best part is the glass doors. I love the classy look they give to the bathroom, while still providing me a bit of privacy by not being completely clear.I don't get to try the new facility until the grout is sealed, and I'm not sure when that will be. Because I've been using the guest bathroom, I replaced the shower head in there as the old one was basically useless. Don't know these things if I don't use the facility, so that's another lesson learned. The shower head in the new shower stall is one of the larger "rain forest" heads, so I'll give it a try before I replace it, and keep it if I like the water effect.
There is another gallon of green paint to repaint the walls, but I'm going to wait on the painting for a week or so and let the bathroom tell me what color it wants to be. It may not want to be green.
The project was one of those bigger expenses that cost me my total salary for teaching this semester, but it needed to be done and now it's finished. The last item on my to-do list is refinish the kitchen cabinets and add handles, but I don't see that happening any time soon.
However, I am starting April off with an April shower!
Friday, March 25, 2011
Not Such a Comfort After All
I watched a cooking show, enthralled with the use of different ingredients to make a family favorite, mac 'n cheese. I decided today was a good day to enjoy some comfort food, with the asthma kicking my butt this week, the wind howling across the valley floor, and my house disrupted with the construction project.
I drink almond milk because I only use milk on my morning cereal, so a carton of milk goes bad too quickly for me to finish it. Almond milk not only tastes good on my oatmeal, but it'll keep a couple of weeks. Mac 'n cheese requires a white sauce, and a white sauce requires milk, so I started the roue while I grated the orange cheese and put the macaroni on to cook. Problem is, I didn't taste the white sauce until I already mixed in the orange cheese and stirred that concoction into the cooked macaroni. Only then did I taste test -- and it was awful. Truly awful.
Once I dumped that mess down the drain, I started over, using canned milk this time. However, I had used up all the orange cheese and had spicey jack cheese left, so, remembering the cooking show, I decided to go for it. I tasted the white sauce before mixing in the cheese and then mixed that with the newly-cooked macaroni, put the baking pan into the oven and crisped it.
It was hard to wait for the top to brown, but the mac 'n cheese smelled heavenly while it baked. When the timer binged, I took the mac 'n cheese out of the oven to cool for a bit before serving myself a heaping plateful of comfort food. The first bite was ... awful. Ditto the second bite and the third. Spicy jack cheese is simply too strong a flavor for my palette and I don't know that I'll be able to eat the rest of the casserole dish.
Sometimes, comfort food isn't all that comforting, especially when I mess with the recipe that I know works. I'm going out to buy another hunk of cheese and will try again ... tomorrow. Just don't seem to have a taste for mac 'n cheese tonight.
I drink almond milk because I only use milk on my morning cereal, so a carton of milk goes bad too quickly for me to finish it. Almond milk not only tastes good on my oatmeal, but it'll keep a couple of weeks. Mac 'n cheese requires a white sauce, and a white sauce requires milk, so I started the roue while I grated the orange cheese and put the macaroni on to cook. Problem is, I didn't taste the white sauce until I already mixed in the orange cheese and stirred that concoction into the cooked macaroni. Only then did I taste test -- and it was awful. Truly awful.
Once I dumped that mess down the drain, I started over, using canned milk this time. However, I had used up all the orange cheese and had spicey jack cheese left, so, remembering the cooking show, I decided to go for it. I tasted the white sauce before mixing in the cheese and then mixed that with the newly-cooked macaroni, put the baking pan into the oven and crisped it.
It was hard to wait for the top to brown, but the mac 'n cheese smelled heavenly while it baked. When the timer binged, I took the mac 'n cheese out of the oven to cool for a bit before serving myself a heaping plateful of comfort food. The first bite was ... awful. Ditto the second bite and the third. Spicy jack cheese is simply too strong a flavor for my palette and I don't know that I'll be able to eat the rest of the casserole dish.
Sometimes, comfort food isn't all that comforting, especially when I mess with the recipe that I know works. I'm going out to buy another hunk of cheese and will try again ... tomorrow. Just don't seem to have a taste for mac 'n cheese tonight.
Dignifying Death
Today, a full week after an officer's end of watch following a deadly accident while involved in a high-speed chase, his remains will be put to rest at a nearby national cemetery with all the pomp and circumstance of a high-profile funeral. A decorated military veteran, as well as local law enforcement officer, his grisly death in a squad car that exploded into flames on a local thoroughfare has sobered the community. The car the officer was chasing also went front first into a palm tree and exploded into flames, with both occupants critically injured, but surviving as I write this. They have been charged and are being held under arrest in their hospital beds; one of the two has an extensive history of criminal activity, including previous auto theft and evading arrest.
The two women who died the night previous to the officer in a community to the east of his traffic accident have also been laid to rest. One of the two is the mother of 9 (yes, nine) children,and while the other female fatality has been named, no details have been provided about her in the local media. The other two adults critically injured in the accident survive in hospital. Three juveniles and an adult male were arrested for causing this accident, allegedly following an argument that ended in a high-speed chase of a van filled with family members trying to flee their pursuers, who were firing guns from their car at the van. The list of prior criminal charges against all four of these men is long, but begins with "known gang affiliation."
Yesterday, a school-owned van left an east end school for the drive to Ontario Airport, transporting a group of high school seniors to a scheduled flight to tour California colleges. When a tire blew not far from the point of origin, the van rolled several times, ejecting a 17-year-old female passenger onto the freeway. Two other adults in the van suffered critical injuries, while the final two occupants escaped with moderate injuries. Allegedly, the tires on the school district van were bald, but there was no money available to replace the tires due to the on-going budget battles in Sacramento that target schools first, rather than the plethora of revenue-sucking, special interest programs (pork).
What is the price of a human life? Is one life more valuable than another? Is the price the police officer paid, for his widow, his son, his extended family/friends, his community, higher than the price paid by the woman with 9 children? Or by the 17-year-old high school senior who may survive to attend college, but will live with the results of a state's budgetary decisions? These tragedies point directly to the problems any state has in allocating revenue: career criminals clog a prison system; legacy gang members enforce an outdated code of machismo and murder; and public agencies are unable to ensure the safety of employees who are stretched thin to keep the doors open and the public served.
Yes, we assume to provide too much for too many with too little thought to who's going to pay for all this, but when we put an agency on-line to deliver services, we owe it to the agency to fully staff it, equip it, and maintain it. If we cannot keep the promise on which the agency opens its doors, then we need to close it, not allow it to continue to operate at half-staff, half-equipped, and somewhat maintained. We have bogged down our prison system with career criminals, which means we let lesser offenders plea bargain their way onto the streets because it's more cost-effective than incarceration. We fail to drop the hammer on career gang members because it gives the appearance of racism when so many Mexican residents, both legal and illegal, are arrested, but the facts are the facts, and the allegations of perceived racism are media constraints that allow criminal activity to flourish. While we debate firing 1/3 of the employees in a school district because we cannot keep the doors open without a tax increase, we put the remaining employees in jeopardy with oversized classes, fewer security personnel, and sporadic maintenance of the equipment and facilities.
Far too many people lost their lives in the Valley last week in very public venues. If there is a lesson to be learned from this carnage, let it be taught, let it be reinforced. Let it become the learning outcome of a sad lesson in what happens when society steps to the side of what it must do to keep alive the American Dream, and, instead, creates the American Nightmare. We cannot go back and we must go on, but if we do not create plans that are realistic to who we are now, rather than who we were in another decade, we are going to collapse under our own delusions of grandeur. Change is one of the hardest tasks for any of us, but as the proverb says, the journey of a lifetime begins with but a single step: one step becomes two, becomes four, becomes a thousand times a thousand.
To be successful, however, we must take the first step, not stand in place and wish things were different -- all the while wanting everything to stay the same and being unwilling to change anything.
The two women who died the night previous to the officer in a community to the east of his traffic accident have also been laid to rest. One of the two is the mother of 9 (yes, nine) children,and while the other female fatality has been named, no details have been provided about her in the local media. The other two adults critically injured in the accident survive in hospital. Three juveniles and an adult male were arrested for causing this accident, allegedly following an argument that ended in a high-speed chase of a van filled with family members trying to flee their pursuers, who were firing guns from their car at the van. The list of prior criminal charges against all four of these men is long, but begins with "known gang affiliation."
Yesterday, a school-owned van left an east end school for the drive to Ontario Airport, transporting a group of high school seniors to a scheduled flight to tour California colleges. When a tire blew not far from the point of origin, the van rolled several times, ejecting a 17-year-old female passenger onto the freeway. Two other adults in the van suffered critical injuries, while the final two occupants escaped with moderate injuries. Allegedly, the tires on the school district van were bald, but there was no money available to replace the tires due to the on-going budget battles in Sacramento that target schools first, rather than the plethora of revenue-sucking, special interest programs (pork).
What is the price of a human life? Is one life more valuable than another? Is the price the police officer paid, for his widow, his son, his extended family/friends, his community, higher than the price paid by the woman with 9 children? Or by the 17-year-old high school senior who may survive to attend college, but will live with the results of a state's budgetary decisions? These tragedies point directly to the problems any state has in allocating revenue: career criminals clog a prison system; legacy gang members enforce an outdated code of machismo and murder; and public agencies are unable to ensure the safety of employees who are stretched thin to keep the doors open and the public served.
Yes, we assume to provide too much for too many with too little thought to who's going to pay for all this, but when we put an agency on-line to deliver services, we owe it to the agency to fully staff it, equip it, and maintain it. If we cannot keep the promise on which the agency opens its doors, then we need to close it, not allow it to continue to operate at half-staff, half-equipped, and somewhat maintained. We have bogged down our prison system with career criminals, which means we let lesser offenders plea bargain their way onto the streets because it's more cost-effective than incarceration. We fail to drop the hammer on career gang members because it gives the appearance of racism when so many Mexican residents, both legal and illegal, are arrested, but the facts are the facts, and the allegations of perceived racism are media constraints that allow criminal activity to flourish. While we debate firing 1/3 of the employees in a school district because we cannot keep the doors open without a tax increase, we put the remaining employees in jeopardy with oversized classes, fewer security personnel, and sporadic maintenance of the equipment and facilities.
Far too many people lost their lives in the Valley last week in very public venues. If there is a lesson to be learned from this carnage, let it be taught, let it be reinforced. Let it become the learning outcome of a sad lesson in what happens when society steps to the side of what it must do to keep alive the American Dream, and, instead, creates the American Nightmare. We cannot go back and we must go on, but if we do not create plans that are realistic to who we are now, rather than who we were in another decade, we are going to collapse under our own delusions of grandeur. Change is one of the hardest tasks for any of us, but as the proverb says, the journey of a lifetime begins with but a single step: one step becomes two, becomes four, becomes a thousand times a thousand.
To be successful, however, we must take the first step, not stand in place and wish things were different -- all the while wanting everything to stay the same and being unwilling to change anything.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Winding up the Week
This has been an interesting week, with little bits of this 'n that to keep it moving from one day to the next, including the reno of my bathroom shower, the site of the infamous fall last December.
Construction is tricky: no matter how detailed the plans, how thorough the process, the amount of materials purchased and on-site, the project always takes twice as long and goes over-budget! This project is no different. What I want is a basic tiled shower with two improvements: one, raise the shower head, which has always hit me right between the eyes, and two, move the shower head to the inside wall, on the same side of the bathroom as the toilet. By relocating the shower head, I can access the shower from the limited floorspace not occupied by the toilet and may (and I emphasize may) avoid a future fall. And, I wanted tile, not a prefab plastic surround.
Not fancy, just functional. My guys bought all the materials -- except not enough pvc pipe fixtures to relocate the condensation drain from the air conditioning unit on the other side of the bathroom wall. This piece of pvc pipe flopped loose behind the previous prefab surround, but had to be dealt with before any other step could be undertaken in the new tile shower. Next, we discussed the bench (I guess every shower needs a bench), and had to decide on both size and placement. I didn't like the look of a square box under the water handle, which would remain on the outside wall, and, in my opinion, provide me with an obstacle course. After discussing alternatives, I agreed to a smaller bench angled across the corner of the shower stall on the outside wall. Of course, there wasn't enough wood to reconfigure the bench, but, fortunately, I had bits and pieces from other jobs in the past couple of years, so he was able to cobble the new bench together.
Then, the little "box" inside the shower, the one that holds shower essentials, needed to be planned and framed in. Once that was completed, I realized that one small box was not adequate, so we added another box -- except the guys had not provided the contractor with adequate wood. This time, we took apart a wooden delivery pallet and reused the 4x4 frame. Then, we had to insulate the outside wall, except there was no insulation in the pile of material in the garage. Then, we needed to change the plan to put a 12x12" tile inside the little shower boxes because ... the guys bought 13x13" tiles, not the 12x12" tiles they told Rob they bought, and that was a different problem to work through (I simply went back to the big box store and bought 2 more sheets of the 2" tiles that will become the floor: problem solved, and no extra time spent cutting and fitting 13" tiles!!).
The biggest issue was the 13" tiles because the tile man spent a long time marking off the tile placement without checking the size of the tile first. Then, one of my guys called to tell him to include the band of glass tiles (in a separate box under the other two kinds of tiles) -- and that threw off all the new markings for the 13" tiles. The tile guy was far beyond frustrated, but he's a pro, so he sucked it up and stuck it out. At 7 pm last evening, knowing that he was driving back in a pouring rain storm, he finally called it quits for the day without quite reaching his goal.
The dogs complicate strangers in the house as Daisy runs like hell the instant she sees an opening. We spend too much time playing "Where's Daisy?" as the workers come in and out of the garage, but the rule is: you let her out, you go find her and bring her back home. Sure, the dogs can be outside when it's not raining, but it's been raining. I know Daisy was cold yesterday, especially after she came into bed with me and burrowed all the way under all the blankets, then curled up right next to my back to keep warm. I don't think she moved last night and was still huddled up next to me when I woke at 5 am.
Yesterday, I also had to contend with asthma issues, probably triggered by the "hot mop" guy who doesn't hot mop to water-seal the shower before framing and tiling. He used a propane torch to heat the tar paper and mold it in place, which generated a noxious odor. I kept all of the doors closed and the windows open, so thought it would not be an issue, but when I reopened the house yesterday for the next stage of the construction, there must have been more fumes than I could smell. By noon, I was done in, no energy, unable to breathe, relying on my inhaler to function. I tried to spend time outside, but it was so cold and windy that the fresh air didn't help my breathing issues. I canceled my class, which I seldom do, because it was not going to happen yesterday, and trundled off to bed as soon as Rob left.
Today, the tile guy says he will finish, one way or another, as he has another job tomorrow. This afternoon, I'm going to stay with my friend who had lung surgery for his cancer last week, while his wife goes to work, so will leave Rob to his business. My friend will probably sleep -- and I just may join him!
The good news is that I've made remarkable progress on one of my "using up yarn bits 'n pieces" afghans. This one is circles of various colors bordered with solid black in a granny square design, then made into 4x4 tiles sewn into strips that are sewn together to form the blanket. Once I have this middle part completed, I'll add another wide border around the outside and be done. Then on to the next using up yarn project already in progress: the knit squares made of half varigated and half solid colors. I'm stumped on how this is going to go together and look okay, but I'll get back to it after I finish the granny squares afghan.
It's been a long week, but each day has had interesting bits to it, so I simply keep on keeping on.
Construction is tricky: no matter how detailed the plans, how thorough the process, the amount of materials purchased and on-site, the project always takes twice as long and goes over-budget! This project is no different. What I want is a basic tiled shower with two improvements: one, raise the shower head, which has always hit me right between the eyes, and two, move the shower head to the inside wall, on the same side of the bathroom as the toilet. By relocating the shower head, I can access the shower from the limited floorspace not occupied by the toilet and may (and I emphasize may) avoid a future fall. And, I wanted tile, not a prefab plastic surround.
Not fancy, just functional. My guys bought all the materials -- except not enough pvc pipe fixtures to relocate the condensation drain from the air conditioning unit on the other side of the bathroom wall. This piece of pvc pipe flopped loose behind the previous prefab surround, but had to be dealt with before any other step could be undertaken in the new tile shower. Next, we discussed the bench (I guess every shower needs a bench), and had to decide on both size and placement. I didn't like the look of a square box under the water handle, which would remain on the outside wall, and, in my opinion, provide me with an obstacle course. After discussing alternatives, I agreed to a smaller bench angled across the corner of the shower stall on the outside wall. Of course, there wasn't enough wood to reconfigure the bench, but, fortunately, I had bits and pieces from other jobs in the past couple of years, so he was able to cobble the new bench together.
Then, the little "box" inside the shower, the one that holds shower essentials, needed to be planned and framed in. Once that was completed, I realized that one small box was not adequate, so we added another box -- except the guys had not provided the contractor with adequate wood. This time, we took apart a wooden delivery pallet and reused the 4x4 frame. Then, we had to insulate the outside wall, except there was no insulation in the pile of material in the garage. Then, we needed to change the plan to put a 12x12" tile inside the little shower boxes because ... the guys bought 13x13" tiles, not the 12x12" tiles they told Rob they bought, and that was a different problem to work through (I simply went back to the big box store and bought 2 more sheets of the 2" tiles that will become the floor: problem solved, and no extra time spent cutting and fitting 13" tiles!!).
The biggest issue was the 13" tiles because the tile man spent a long time marking off the tile placement without checking the size of the tile first. Then, one of my guys called to tell him to include the band of glass tiles (in a separate box under the other two kinds of tiles) -- and that threw off all the new markings for the 13" tiles. The tile guy was far beyond frustrated, but he's a pro, so he sucked it up and stuck it out. At 7 pm last evening, knowing that he was driving back in a pouring rain storm, he finally called it quits for the day without quite reaching his goal.
The dogs complicate strangers in the house as Daisy runs like hell the instant she sees an opening. We spend too much time playing "Where's Daisy?" as the workers come in and out of the garage, but the rule is: you let her out, you go find her and bring her back home. Sure, the dogs can be outside when it's not raining, but it's been raining. I know Daisy was cold yesterday, especially after she came into bed with me and burrowed all the way under all the blankets, then curled up right next to my back to keep warm. I don't think she moved last night and was still huddled up next to me when I woke at 5 am.
Yesterday, I also had to contend with asthma issues, probably triggered by the "hot mop" guy who doesn't hot mop to water-seal the shower before framing and tiling. He used a propane torch to heat the tar paper and mold it in place, which generated a noxious odor. I kept all of the doors closed and the windows open, so thought it would not be an issue, but when I reopened the house yesterday for the next stage of the construction, there must have been more fumes than I could smell. By noon, I was done in, no energy, unable to breathe, relying on my inhaler to function. I tried to spend time outside, but it was so cold and windy that the fresh air didn't help my breathing issues. I canceled my class, which I seldom do, because it was not going to happen yesterday, and trundled off to bed as soon as Rob left.
Today, the tile guy says he will finish, one way or another, as he has another job tomorrow. This afternoon, I'm going to stay with my friend who had lung surgery for his cancer last week, while his wife goes to work, so will leave Rob to his business. My friend will probably sleep -- and I just may join him!
The good news is that I've made remarkable progress on one of my "using up yarn bits 'n pieces" afghans. This one is circles of various colors bordered with solid black in a granny square design, then made into 4x4 tiles sewn into strips that are sewn together to form the blanket. Once I have this middle part completed, I'll add another wide border around the outside and be done. Then on to the next using up yarn project already in progress: the knit squares made of half varigated and half solid colors. I'm stumped on how this is going to go together and look okay, but I'll get back to it after I finish the granny squares afghan.
It's been a long week, but each day has had interesting bits to it, so I simply keep on keeping on.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Waiting for the Truth
Within 24 hours, there were two horrific auto accidents in the Valley. In one, two females were killed, and a male and a female inside the vehicle were rescued and taken to the hospital in critical condition. The good news is that an infant in the car, securely strapped into a car seat, was not hurt. In the second accident, one car went head-first into a palm tree and burst into flame, killing the occupant; the other car involved in the incident continued on for another 50-60 feet, went head- first into another palm tree, ejected the occupants, and burst into flame. In this incident, one driver was killed, a 28-year old police officer with a 4-week old son.
The bloggers hit the internet the minute the sketchiest details were presented by the media, not to express their sympathy, but to begin the racial epithets and homophobic slurs that characterize their comments about anything that happens in this area. In the first incident, because the accident happened in the east valley area, it was immediately assumed that it was gang-related; thus, no mercy for anyone involved in the accident. Two people dead, another two people perhaps on their way to the morgue, with a brief stay in the hospital first, and a child the sole survivor -- and the bloggers went for the jugular, accusing the people involved in the accident of endangering "innocent citizens" who may have shared the road with them prior to the fatal crash. No details were known, but the people involved must have been Mexican illegals, uninsured, driving an unsafe vehicle, and had it coming to them for some reason known only to the bloggers.
In the second accident, before it was known that it was a police officer fatally injured, the bloggers immediately went on the attack about west valley gangsters, illegal Mexicans, gay rights, and, again, the potential danger to innocent citizens on the road at the time of the accident. Saying "sorry" after it is revealed that a police officer lost his life while chasing a vehicle that failed to stop for the lights and siren does not take away the pain inflicted onto a young widow's shoulders, nor the month-old child who will never know his father.
I believe in freedom of the press, but not at the expense of innocent victims of crime. None of these comments should have been posted, but they were -- and the survivors of victims in both accidents read them, based on their posted reactions to the lies, half-truths, and accusations that somehow these incidents were the victims' fault. It's one thing to post an opinion based on the facts about an issue or event to provide another point of view, but to comment on the news as it unfolds, projecting one's bigotry in the process, is vile. The Bill of Rights does protect free speech, but why is any speech protected when it is a hate-filled violation of an individual's right to privacy? to protection from libel? to grieve a loved one's loss?
The bloggers assume they know what happened and why it happened, based on where it happened, but they don't have factual information to support their wild accusations. The online newspaper did crack down on the bloggers about 6 months ago, but not this past weekend, allowing the blogger allegations to stand for the truth in the absence of evidence to the contrary. When the paper did publish the facts as they were known, a full 8 hours after the police officer died during the car chase, the bloggers came back with the "endangering innocent lives" argument, rather than compassion for the officer, his family and friends, and his colleagues.
There is a time and a place to have the discussion about whether law enforcement should engage in high-speed chases, but that occurs after the officer's body has been removed from the crime scene.
The bloggers hit the internet the minute the sketchiest details were presented by the media, not to express their sympathy, but to begin the racial epithets and homophobic slurs that characterize their comments about anything that happens in this area. In the first incident, because the accident happened in the east valley area, it was immediately assumed that it was gang-related; thus, no mercy for anyone involved in the accident. Two people dead, another two people perhaps on their way to the morgue, with a brief stay in the hospital first, and a child the sole survivor -- and the bloggers went for the jugular, accusing the people involved in the accident of endangering "innocent citizens" who may have shared the road with them prior to the fatal crash. No details were known, but the people involved must have been Mexican illegals, uninsured, driving an unsafe vehicle, and had it coming to them for some reason known only to the bloggers.
In the second accident, before it was known that it was a police officer fatally injured, the bloggers immediately went on the attack about west valley gangsters, illegal Mexicans, gay rights, and, again, the potential danger to innocent citizens on the road at the time of the accident. Saying "sorry" after it is revealed that a police officer lost his life while chasing a vehicle that failed to stop for the lights and siren does not take away the pain inflicted onto a young widow's shoulders, nor the month-old child who will never know his father.
I believe in freedom of the press, but not at the expense of innocent victims of crime. None of these comments should have been posted, but they were -- and the survivors of victims in both accidents read them, based on their posted reactions to the lies, half-truths, and accusations that somehow these incidents were the victims' fault. It's one thing to post an opinion based on the facts about an issue or event to provide another point of view, but to comment on the news as it unfolds, projecting one's bigotry in the process, is vile. The Bill of Rights does protect free speech, but why is any speech protected when it is a hate-filled violation of an individual's right to privacy? to protection from libel? to grieve a loved one's loss?
The bloggers assume they know what happened and why it happened, based on where it happened, but they don't have factual information to support their wild accusations. The online newspaper did crack down on the bloggers about 6 months ago, but not this past weekend, allowing the blogger allegations to stand for the truth in the absence of evidence to the contrary. When the paper did publish the facts as they were known, a full 8 hours after the police officer died during the car chase, the bloggers came back with the "endangering innocent lives" argument, rather than compassion for the officer, his family and friends, and his colleagues.
There is a time and a place to have the discussion about whether law enforcement should engage in high-speed chases, but that occurs after the officer's body has been removed from the crime scene.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
When is a Kiss not Just a Kiss?
When Glee began, I was delighted because I've always been a music gleek. I still remember when the music department at any high school was equally as prestigous as the athletic department, with polished performances that often ended in standing ovations. At the same time, however, the students and staff members knew their roles in the school structure and adhered to the differences between adult and child. The adults made the decisions and the students learned performance art through the wise eyes of the teacher guiding them through the process of selecting appropriate music, creating choreography to enhance the vocal selections, practicing the pieces to perfection, and then performing in front of an audience.
It was about the culmination of an educational process, an end product the community anticipated, appreciated, and applauded.
I would not be thrilled to be part of the Glee school community, nor the music program, because the TV series has degenerated into pandering to ratings, rather than maintaining a performance standard that can inspire young people to learn a craft from talented teachers and then perform for a community audience. The main thrust of the retooled Glee is sex: homosexual, bi-sexual, and heterosexual, as well as overtly illicit sexual interaction between staff members. In a word: inappropriate -- on every conceivable level. There seems to be no lesson at Glee High that cannot be taught by a pelvic thrust, a suggestive lyric, a sexually explicit choreography, or an active sexual encounter. If it's hot in the choir room, it's even hotter in the sex ed classroom, the counseling office, and the teacher's lunchroom.
The show goes on at 8:00 pm, which was okay at the beginning of the first season, when the show was about a small glee club at a somewhat typical high school, but is far from okay as the sex has ramped up and the vituperative interactions between staff members, as well as between students, have increased to the level of criminality. Sue could NEVER say the kinds of things she says or do the kinds of things she does on a real school campus because she'd be arrested and her teaching credentials revoked. Showing any adult on a school campus getting away with what character Sue gets away with does a disservice not just to the educational institution, but to the young children/teens who watch the show. Sue disrespects staff, students, and parents with equal venom -- and no one ever holds her accountable. As a matter of fact, Sue's vicious conduct is used as the basis for the winning glee club performance at regionals, with the Gleeks sending out the message that it does not matter how badly Sue behaves -- including filling student lockers with dirt. The problem with the message is that when someone does it on TV, it soon becomes part of what's done at the school, and what's being shown on Glee will get a child tossed out of a class, arrested, and/or expelled from school. It may be a topical storyline in someone's script writing class, but it is NOT funny or appropriate when it becomes a handbook for how students and/or adults conduct themselves at a real school, especially when there are no apparent consequences for anyone's actions.
Slushies? Really? Slamming the "homo" into a locker repeatedly, while threatening that student with physical assault? Really? Making a broadcast over the public address system that slanders a colleague with very explicit content? Really? Making out with the hot sex ed sub on the auditorium stage during a performance rehearsal? Really? And let's not even talk about the demeaning of "fat-ass ladies" in both daily interaction and a student-written song!
When is a kiss not just a kiss? When it's the full tongue down the throat between underage "students," whether hetero-, homo-, or bi-sexual. Seldom has any show been so in-your-face about sexually active teens, and certaintly not a show that appears on the surface to be good, wholesome entertainment. It's just a show about a glee club, right? No way: it's a show about sex, sex, and more sex, and I don't believe this is an appropriate message to send to an 8:00 pm viewing audience of preteens and young teens. This is a time when adults and actors need to give kids positive role models, NOT shine the spotlight on what may be going on behind adult doors. The kids in the Glee choir are the most sexually active group of high school Gleeks ever, everyone of whom is underage, and Mr. Shuster comes off as the pimp. We don't need more pregnant teens, but Glee writers seem to think that sex is what makes the high school experience ... well-rounded?
Unfortunately, the show promises to be "hotter than ever" when it returns with new episodes in May. If that's the case, move it to a more appropriate time slot and start handing out condoms at the schools because young kids are picking up their behavior cues from the TV cast and putting into practice what the Gleeks are preaching in their choir!
It was about the culmination of an educational process, an end product the community anticipated, appreciated, and applauded.
I would not be thrilled to be part of the Glee school community, nor the music program, because the TV series has degenerated into pandering to ratings, rather than maintaining a performance standard that can inspire young people to learn a craft from talented teachers and then perform for a community audience. The main thrust of the retooled Glee is sex: homosexual, bi-sexual, and heterosexual, as well as overtly illicit sexual interaction between staff members. In a word: inappropriate -- on every conceivable level. There seems to be no lesson at Glee High that cannot be taught by a pelvic thrust, a suggestive lyric, a sexually explicit choreography, or an active sexual encounter. If it's hot in the choir room, it's even hotter in the sex ed classroom, the counseling office, and the teacher's lunchroom.
The show goes on at 8:00 pm, which was okay at the beginning of the first season, when the show was about a small glee club at a somewhat typical high school, but is far from okay as the sex has ramped up and the vituperative interactions between staff members, as well as between students, have increased to the level of criminality. Sue could NEVER say the kinds of things she says or do the kinds of things she does on a real school campus because she'd be arrested and her teaching credentials revoked. Showing any adult on a school campus getting away with what character Sue gets away with does a disservice not just to the educational institution, but to the young children/teens who watch the show. Sue disrespects staff, students, and parents with equal venom -- and no one ever holds her accountable. As a matter of fact, Sue's vicious conduct is used as the basis for the winning glee club performance at regionals, with the Gleeks sending out the message that it does not matter how badly Sue behaves -- including filling student lockers with dirt. The problem with the message is that when someone does it on TV, it soon becomes part of what's done at the school, and what's being shown on Glee will get a child tossed out of a class, arrested, and/or expelled from school. It may be a topical storyline in someone's script writing class, but it is NOT funny or appropriate when it becomes a handbook for how students and/or adults conduct themselves at a real school, especially when there are no apparent consequences for anyone's actions.
Slushies? Really? Slamming the "homo" into a locker repeatedly, while threatening that student with physical assault? Really? Making a broadcast over the public address system that slanders a colleague with very explicit content? Really? Making out with the hot sex ed sub on the auditorium stage during a performance rehearsal? Really? And let's not even talk about the demeaning of "fat-ass ladies" in both daily interaction and a student-written song!
When is a kiss not just a kiss? When it's the full tongue down the throat between underage "students," whether hetero-, homo-, or bi-sexual. Seldom has any show been so in-your-face about sexually active teens, and certaintly not a show that appears on the surface to be good, wholesome entertainment. It's just a show about a glee club, right? No way: it's a show about sex, sex, and more sex, and I don't believe this is an appropriate message to send to an 8:00 pm viewing audience of preteens and young teens. This is a time when adults and actors need to give kids positive role models, NOT shine the spotlight on what may be going on behind adult doors. The kids in the Glee choir are the most sexually active group of high school Gleeks ever, everyone of whom is underage, and Mr. Shuster comes off as the pimp. We don't need more pregnant teens, but Glee writers seem to think that sex is what makes the high school experience ... well-rounded?
Unfortunately, the show promises to be "hotter than ever" when it returns with new episodes in May. If that's the case, move it to a more appropriate time slot and start handing out condoms at the schools because young kids are picking up their behavior cues from the TV cast and putting into practice what the Gleeks are preaching in their choir!
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Medical Transcription
It is impossible to translate a doctor's report into understandable English! I have 3 completed reports on the state of my back/pelvis/hip regions, with another report due to me perhaps by Friday. What they basically state is that I fell in December 2010 and that fall resulted "in an acute/subacute traumatic L4 end plate injury," but I've been Binging and Googling my fingers to the bone and cannot actually determine what that is.
There are lots of medical terms included in the reports, including lumbarization, hemangioma, retrolisthesis, osteophytic ridging and encroachment, and Schmorl's node, all of which somehow relate to my superior L4 endplate, but ... that's like finding all the edge pieces to a puzzle and then being left to my own devices to figure out what the actual picture is without a picture of the finished puzzle.
What I do not understand is why more emphatic methods were not used to determine the extent of the back injury either at the time of the fall or immediately thereafter. I questioned the ER diagnosis of "stirred up arthritis" at the time and asked for an MRI, and again at my knee surgery, and again at the stitch removal 10 days later, and again when I returned to beg for some kind of help with the extreme pain and loss of function in my back/hip area at the completion of 6 weeks' of prescribed physical therapy for my knee that actually resulted more in trying to get me on my feet due to the back issues.
I suspect that medical care is based solely on persistance because only after numerous failed attempts to have a better diagnosis was I sent for tests to determine what happened as a result of the fall. It appears to me that it's more than just "stirred up arthritis," based on the statement "acute/subacute traumatic end plate injury," but shouldn't I have known that months ago, rather than well after the fact? Ignorance is not bliss: it is stupidity that allows the injury to be exacerbated simply by going on as if nothing is wrong. My stupidity this time came to an end the day I walked the dogs and found that I could not walk back to my home! Thankfully, a friend who lives nearby was able to come get me, but that situation should not have occurred.
Next step: return to the spinal specialist to determine what these reports actually say and what I can do to get beyond this place in my physical life.
There are lots of medical terms included in the reports, including lumbarization, hemangioma, retrolisthesis, osteophytic ridging and encroachment, and Schmorl's node, all of which somehow relate to my superior L4 endplate, but ... that's like finding all the edge pieces to a puzzle and then being left to my own devices to figure out what the actual picture is without a picture of the finished puzzle.
What I do not understand is why more emphatic methods were not used to determine the extent of the back injury either at the time of the fall or immediately thereafter. I questioned the ER diagnosis of "stirred up arthritis" at the time and asked for an MRI, and again at my knee surgery, and again at the stitch removal 10 days later, and again when I returned to beg for some kind of help with the extreme pain and loss of function in my back/hip area at the completion of 6 weeks' of prescribed physical therapy for my knee that actually resulted more in trying to get me on my feet due to the back issues.
I suspect that medical care is based solely on persistance because only after numerous failed attempts to have a better diagnosis was I sent for tests to determine what happened as a result of the fall. It appears to me that it's more than just "stirred up arthritis," based on the statement "acute/subacute traumatic end plate injury," but shouldn't I have known that months ago, rather than well after the fact? Ignorance is not bliss: it is stupidity that allows the injury to be exacerbated simply by going on as if nothing is wrong. My stupidity this time came to an end the day I walked the dogs and found that I could not walk back to my home! Thankfully, a friend who lives nearby was able to come get me, but that situation should not have occurred.
Next step: return to the spinal specialist to determine what these reports actually say and what I can do to get beyond this place in my physical life.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
The Media Makes It Official: The Sky is Falling
For anyone with the tiniest doubt whether the world will end 12/20/2012, the media has officially declared that we will all be lucky to survive that long. It began with air quality issues during my youth, escalated to global warming during my children's youth, and tops off with nuclear disaster in my g'son's youth. There is no escaping these ominous tidings because the media has come to its conclusion and pronounced us all done.
Jack London wrote often about the external conflict between man and nature: nature always wins, evidenced by a scene in which a man, committed to having his way with the wilderness, squats beneath a snow-laden tree in the forest and uses his last match to light a small fire without which he will freeze to death. Snow melts, falls onto fire, puts out fire. Score: nature another one; man loses again.
Man, who creates an internal universe within his own mind, has delusions of grandeur, but Nature, an uncontrollable external force, works independently of mankind. Hence, the Japanese went above and beyond what was thought prudent to allow the nuclear generating stations to survive an earthquake, but oops, someone forgot to protect against a 35-foot tsunami wave moving at approximately 600 miles per hour generated by basically a 9.0 earthquake in immediate proximity to a nuclear generating plant built on the same side of an island as the epicenter. Man's construction did a good job handling the 8-foot displacement of the Earth and the resultant aftershocks, but not so well at holding at bay the tsunami wave.
This is what is known as a "one-two" punch, and it's not going well. We thought we had it figured out, but Nature provided mankind with another demonstration to illustrate that we will not win -- ever.
Two hundred thirty thousand human beings lost their lives in the last great tsuanmi, and it appears that Japan will lose a similar number of its people before this natural event settles. It is the natural order of things for man to build and nature to destroy. The natural destruction cleanses the Earth so man can try again. Looking back through the centuries, we keep getting it wrong, but each civilization advances more than the last. Perhaps, eventually, mankind will create an endurable lifestyle on Earth, but it is equally feasible that this planet will become a puff of cosmic smoke one day.
Perhaps that day is right around the corner, predicted by an oracle of his time, Nostradamus, but, in the greater scheme of things, it's just as likely that this is merely another in a long chain of cataclysmic events that are part of the natural order set in motion millenia ago. Prepare for the worst and hope for the best is as good as the advice anyone will give as we all wait to see what tomorrow -- or 12/20/2012 -- brings.
Jack London wrote often about the external conflict between man and nature: nature always wins, evidenced by a scene in which a man, committed to having his way with the wilderness, squats beneath a snow-laden tree in the forest and uses his last match to light a small fire without which he will freeze to death. Snow melts, falls onto fire, puts out fire. Score: nature another one; man loses again.
Man, who creates an internal universe within his own mind, has delusions of grandeur, but Nature, an uncontrollable external force, works independently of mankind. Hence, the Japanese went above and beyond what was thought prudent to allow the nuclear generating stations to survive an earthquake, but oops, someone forgot to protect against a 35-foot tsunami wave moving at approximately 600 miles per hour generated by basically a 9.0 earthquake in immediate proximity to a nuclear generating plant built on the same side of an island as the epicenter. Man's construction did a good job handling the 8-foot displacement of the Earth and the resultant aftershocks, but not so well at holding at bay the tsunami wave.
This is what is known as a "one-two" punch, and it's not going well. We thought we had it figured out, but Nature provided mankind with another demonstration to illustrate that we will not win -- ever.
Two hundred thirty thousand human beings lost their lives in the last great tsuanmi, and it appears that Japan will lose a similar number of its people before this natural event settles. It is the natural order of things for man to build and nature to destroy. The natural destruction cleanses the Earth so man can try again. Looking back through the centuries, we keep getting it wrong, but each civilization advances more than the last. Perhaps, eventually, mankind will create an endurable lifestyle on Earth, but it is equally feasible that this planet will become a puff of cosmic smoke one day.
Perhaps that day is right around the corner, predicted by an oracle of his time, Nostradamus, but, in the greater scheme of things, it's just as likely that this is merely another in a long chain of cataclysmic events that are part of the natural order set in motion millenia ago. Prepare for the worst and hope for the best is as good as the advice anyone will give as we all wait to see what tomorrow -- or 12/20/2012 -- brings.
Friday, March 11, 2011
OH, DEAR!!
Today, I wandered into Senior Citizenville, the satellite medical community that services the significantly older population of the Valley, both local and snowbirds. The hospital is premier, noted for its state-of-the-art facility (and amenities), with smaller medical communities nearby servicing the routine maintenance kinds of adjunct medical services. Just as the coastal communities thrive in a sea of tanned skin and sunny blonde hair (natural or enhanced), the medical communities seem to attract sparkling grey hair, artificial knees, and bowed legs!!
My friend's husband had surgery today, which went well and provided them with good news for a change. My day began with my nuclear injection, followed by sharing time with my friend while waiting for her hubby to come out of surgery. We enjoyed a bagel outside, by the duck pond, with the temps reaching the low 80s by about 10 am, when I had to leave for the other half of my procedure. I signed in by 10:30 am as directed, but then had to sit and wait until 11:30 for the CT scan!! Because my office was at the entrance to one wing on the satellite medical facility, I people watched and, oh, dear, it was dismal!
It appears that anyone over a certain age, at which the hair greys, no longer walks, but rocks: back and forth, side to side, obviously coping with bad knees, bad hips, and/or bad backs. The men seem to be the worst, walking on cement as if they are coping with a seriously rolling ship deck! The women walk with dignity, in spite of the stiff knees and frozen hips, so their walk resembles a line of penguins, holding their bodies firmly in place, but relying on their arms to provide balance. After an hour of this endless parade of weeble-wobbles, I realized that my future is in that same line of declining bodies.
Today was the CT scan of the tissues and other soft connectors in my "L" back and hip area; next week, there are 2 separate MRIs to record the bone issues with the hips and the pelvis (each MRI takes an hour, so they don't do it all at once). When these photo ops are complete, perhaps someone will be able to tell me the medical translation of my December fall and injury diagnosis: stirred up arthritis. Once I know what is there, I am confident that I can figure out how to work through it and get back on my feet, standing straight and tall again, and not become a permanent, grey-haired, weeble-wobbly.
My friend's husband had surgery today, which went well and provided them with good news for a change. My day began with my nuclear injection, followed by sharing time with my friend while waiting for her hubby to come out of surgery. We enjoyed a bagel outside, by the duck pond, with the temps reaching the low 80s by about 10 am, when I had to leave for the other half of my procedure. I signed in by 10:30 am as directed, but then had to sit and wait until 11:30 for the CT scan!! Because my office was at the entrance to one wing on the satellite medical facility, I people watched and, oh, dear, it was dismal!
It appears that anyone over a certain age, at which the hair greys, no longer walks, but rocks: back and forth, side to side, obviously coping with bad knees, bad hips, and/or bad backs. The men seem to be the worst, walking on cement as if they are coping with a seriously rolling ship deck! The women walk with dignity, in spite of the stiff knees and frozen hips, so their walk resembles a line of penguins, holding their bodies firmly in place, but relying on their arms to provide balance. After an hour of this endless parade of weeble-wobbles, I realized that my future is in that same line of declining bodies.
Today was the CT scan of the tissues and other soft connectors in my "L" back and hip area; next week, there are 2 separate MRIs to record the bone issues with the hips and the pelvis (each MRI takes an hour, so they don't do it all at once). When these photo ops are complete, perhaps someone will be able to tell me the medical translation of my December fall and injury diagnosis: stirred up arthritis. Once I know what is there, I am confident that I can figure out how to work through it and get back on my feet, standing straight and tall again, and not become a permanent, grey-haired, weeble-wobbly.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Sheening
Wow: it is beyond belief that Charlie Sheen actually believes that anything he's saying makes sense. It is as if his brain is dead, but his oral orifice is still alive and spewing nonsense, much like a chicken after its head is cut off. I don't know what's more pathetic: that Sheen actually believes he's making sense or that he has developed into some sort of instant media cult hero.
My new term is "sheening," the state of being wherein an individual with nothing to say disengages the brain and starts babbling. The only person who believes the "sheener" is making sense is another person with a dead brain. Thus, when Charlie says, "Winning," the cult of the brain dead laugh uproariously, as if the guru has said anything profound, rather than inane. Try saying, "Stupid," Charlie: more people will agree with you on that witticism.
In the past, when I've been forced into encounters with "sheeners," I somehow thought I had to participate in the madness, or at least try to make sense of it, but Charlie makes it very clear that no one has to listen to him, understand him, or respond to him--unless the audience member has absolutely nothing else to do with his/her life. The Charlie Sheening Show is public masturbation: self-centered, feel-good, temporary self-pleasure, but just totally wrong. That he has developed such a Twitter following simply reinforces the old saying that there is a fool born every minute, a fool who loves watching a really good train wreck.
What is even more pathetic about "sheening" is that it takes the media attention off real people with real problems, such as ... Libya. Civil War is raging, people are dying in the streets, and Americans are "sheening," laughing at a pathetic addict's ranting and raving about his failure to continue to earn the $2 million per episode for appearing on a TV sitcom--as if it were as important as a civil war. I'm venturing the guess that nobody really cares about Charlie, but on-lookers are watching his life implode the same way in which we cannot not look at a gruesome auto accident on the freeway. The sycophants sharing his living space are egging him into more and more outrageous behavior because it's fun to jerk the chain of mentally ill individuals, drunks, and stoners, and Charlie is a 3-for 1 special!!
Using the old question, What would you do if you gave a party and no one attended, let's ask a more relevant question: what would Charlie do if he called the media and no one answered?
My new term is "sheening," the state of being wherein an individual with nothing to say disengages the brain and starts babbling. The only person who believes the "sheener" is making sense is another person with a dead brain. Thus, when Charlie says, "Winning," the cult of the brain dead laugh uproariously, as if the guru has said anything profound, rather than inane. Try saying, "Stupid," Charlie: more people will agree with you on that witticism.
In the past, when I've been forced into encounters with "sheeners," I somehow thought I had to participate in the madness, or at least try to make sense of it, but Charlie makes it very clear that no one has to listen to him, understand him, or respond to him--unless the audience member has absolutely nothing else to do with his/her life. The Charlie Sheening Show is public masturbation: self-centered, feel-good, temporary self-pleasure, but just totally wrong. That he has developed such a Twitter following simply reinforces the old saying that there is a fool born every minute, a fool who loves watching a really good train wreck.
What is even more pathetic about "sheening" is that it takes the media attention off real people with real problems, such as ... Libya. Civil War is raging, people are dying in the streets, and Americans are "sheening," laughing at a pathetic addict's ranting and raving about his failure to continue to earn the $2 million per episode for appearing on a TV sitcom--as if it were as important as a civil war. I'm venturing the guess that nobody really cares about Charlie, but on-lookers are watching his life implode the same way in which we cannot not look at a gruesome auto accident on the freeway. The sycophants sharing his living space are egging him into more and more outrageous behavior because it's fun to jerk the chain of mentally ill individuals, drunks, and stoners, and Charlie is a 3-for 1 special!!
Using the old question, What would you do if you gave a party and no one attended, let's ask a more relevant question: what would Charlie do if he called the media and no one answered?
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Borders Rewards a Loyal Customer
I hate being deceived, misled, and/or lied to, especially by a corporation. I wrote a review of the Kobo reader for Borders, in exchange for which I received a promotional coupon worth, in the words on the coupon, "25% off the list price of any one item" to thank me for being a loyal Borders customer. Ah-ha, I thought: I'll buy myself a Kobo reader as the first one I bought was a gift for a close friend. The Kobo used to cost $149.99, but the price has been lowered to $99.99, making it a good bargain and competitive with all the other readers on the market. With the 25% discount, I decided to treat myself to the extended warranty package that costs an additional $49.99.
I went through the on-line purchase process as this promotional coupon is "valid through 3/8/2011 online only," even though I hate purchasing anything on-line. I entered the promo code, but the discount was not taken when I trudged my way to the check-out process. Thinking that, perhaps, I had entered the number in error, I redid it with the same result, so I called the 1-800 number to ask why I was not receiving the "25% off the list price of any one item."
"Ja-nay" answered the phone in a heavily accented voice; when I asked her to spell her first name, she replied, "J-A-N-E." I clarified with her that her name is Jane, she is working off-site, and she has limited understanding/usage of English. I asked my question, even though I was pretty sure she could only recite from the script she has been provided. She confirmed that the sale price of the Kobo reader is now $99.99, but the original list price is still $149.99, so I cannot apply the promo coupon to the Kobo reader. However, I told "Ja-nay," the warranty package is $49.99 and not discounted, so I want the 25% promo to be applied to that one item. Her response: the discount does not apply to e-readers or to any associated products.
That is NOT what my coupon says. Ironically, I received the coupon for an ereader product, but cannot receive the discount associated with that purchase for another ereader product?
When "Ja-nay" affirmed for me that a discount does not apply to ereaders or the warranty package, I told her that means not only will I not be making this purchase, but I won't be returning to Borders for any other purchase because ... that's dishonest, deceptive, and disrespectful of the consumer. When you declare bankruptcy, you need to look at your total business practice, not just the cash flow. When you hire employees who do not speak even basic English, such as "Ja-nay," and all they can do is confirm your dishonest business practices, you may want to look beyond the bottom line to the customers who help you keep the doors -- or, in this case, the website -- open.
Borders, you just lost another "loyal" customer.
I went through the on-line purchase process as this promotional coupon is "valid through 3/8/2011 online only," even though I hate purchasing anything on-line. I entered the promo code, but the discount was not taken when I trudged my way to the check-out process. Thinking that, perhaps, I had entered the number in error, I redid it with the same result, so I called the 1-800 number to ask why I was not receiving the "25% off the list price of any one item."
"Ja-nay" answered the phone in a heavily accented voice; when I asked her to spell her first name, she replied, "J-A-N-E." I clarified with her that her name is Jane, she is working off-site, and she has limited understanding/usage of English. I asked my question, even though I was pretty sure she could only recite from the script she has been provided. She confirmed that the sale price of the Kobo reader is now $99.99, but the original list price is still $149.99, so I cannot apply the promo coupon to the Kobo reader. However, I told "Ja-nay," the warranty package is $49.99 and not discounted, so I want the 25% promo to be applied to that one item. Her response: the discount does not apply to e-readers or to any associated products.
That is NOT what my coupon says. Ironically, I received the coupon for an ereader product, but cannot receive the discount associated with that purchase for another ereader product?
When "Ja-nay" affirmed for me that a discount does not apply to ereaders or the warranty package, I told her that means not only will I not be making this purchase, but I won't be returning to Borders for any other purchase because ... that's dishonest, deceptive, and disrespectful of the consumer. When you declare bankruptcy, you need to look at your total business practice, not just the cash flow. When you hire employees who do not speak even basic English, such as "Ja-nay," and all they can do is confirm your dishonest business practices, you may want to look beyond the bottom line to the customers who help you keep the doors -- or, in this case, the website -- open.
Borders, you just lost another "loyal" customer.
Friday, March 4, 2011
A Senior Moment
Harry's Law is a new TV series, off-beat, somewhat fragmented if you join in media res, but I like it because the cast is comprised of flawed characters. A former patent lawyer is dismissed by her law firm at age 61, turned out to pasture, as they used to say back when. She doesn't know what to do with the rest of her life, so she establishes a law practice in a former shoe store in downtown (opposed to uptown), exchanging free legal services for neighborhood protection. Her nemesis is a "teflon" lawyer, whose TV ads have more substance than his presence in court. Harry (for Harriet) keeps the shoe store clerk and inventory, but also takes on a former gang member/ druggie/ small-time hood who wants to turn his life around, as well as a lawyer who will never make it up the corporate ladder because he does not fit the Madison Avenue success stereotype.
Interesting people; interesting cases; interesting script ideas.
Last week, two concurrent stories dealt with ageism, a growing phenomena because far too many of us are outliving both our projected life span and our retirement accounts. Back when, employees used to retire at age 60-62 so the young folks could come onto the job fresh from an educational/vocational institution and raring to start at the bottom to earn a decent living for their newly-formed families. Now, that demographic stays single and wants to be at the top of the corporate earnings ladder, one way or another, before making a commitment to anyone other than self. The end result is that we all still need to make a living -- and it's not working for anyone, including the over-all US economy, which depends on the generational turn-over of employment, as well as new employees starting at the bottom of the employment ladder in both pay and benefits.
In the episode, the boss of a factory business had to make the difficult choices with which we are all faced: how to cut operational costs and keep the doors open, while inflicting the least personnel damage. His decision was to cut the older staff because they have earned retirement pensions, probably paid off the debt accumulated during their growing family years, and perhaps put aside money for their retirement. On the other side of his decision were the younger employees, the ones facing student loans, expensive start-up purchases (such as cars, homes, furnishings), without the financial resources to be out of work. The financial burden of the employer is top-heavy, providing both the senior employees and new-hires top wages and benefits, while struggling to keep up with increasing operational costs. No one wants to lose a job these days, but the reality is that if the business cannot sustain itself, the owners shut the doors.
However, we often don't retire because we cannot quit working, not necessarily because we cannot afford not to work. One of the elderly employees fired by the employer explains in court that it is not, for him, about the money, but about his self. He asks, "What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go?"
That dilemma keeps many of us at work long after we would like to retire. I, too, have a pension and a bit put back in savings, so I can make do, but then I, too, am faced with what to do and where to go each day. My entire career has been spent in little rooms packed with other people, so I enjoy being alone at this point in my life, but I also realize that is not a good decision for the rest of my life. Teaching requires teachers to give and give and give, and students to take and take and take. I have given until it hurts far beyond what anyone knows, so I want to take for a while, including taking the time to make a decision that works for me.
Art imitates life, and while I'm not suggesting that Harry's Law is art, the life questions have me thinking. Unfortunately, I'm much more able to ask more questions than I am to come up with answers. Meanwhile, I continue to keep my part-time job because that allows me to know where to go and what to do until I am able to accept the alternatives.
Interesting people; interesting cases; interesting script ideas.
Last week, two concurrent stories dealt with ageism, a growing phenomena because far too many of us are outliving both our projected life span and our retirement accounts. Back when, employees used to retire at age 60-62 so the young folks could come onto the job fresh from an educational/vocational institution and raring to start at the bottom to earn a decent living for their newly-formed families. Now, that demographic stays single and wants to be at the top of the corporate earnings ladder, one way or another, before making a commitment to anyone other than self. The end result is that we all still need to make a living -- and it's not working for anyone, including the over-all US economy, which depends on the generational turn-over of employment, as well as new employees starting at the bottom of the employment ladder in both pay and benefits.
In the episode, the boss of a factory business had to make the difficult choices with which we are all faced: how to cut operational costs and keep the doors open, while inflicting the least personnel damage. His decision was to cut the older staff because they have earned retirement pensions, probably paid off the debt accumulated during their growing family years, and perhaps put aside money for their retirement. On the other side of his decision were the younger employees, the ones facing student loans, expensive start-up purchases (such as cars, homes, furnishings), without the financial resources to be out of work. The financial burden of the employer is top-heavy, providing both the senior employees and new-hires top wages and benefits, while struggling to keep up with increasing operational costs. No one wants to lose a job these days, but the reality is that if the business cannot sustain itself, the owners shut the doors.
However, we often don't retire because we cannot quit working, not necessarily because we cannot afford not to work. One of the elderly employees fired by the employer explains in court that it is not, for him, about the money, but about his self. He asks, "What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go?"
That dilemma keeps many of us at work long after we would like to retire. I, too, have a pension and a bit put back in savings, so I can make do, but then I, too, am faced with what to do and where to go each day. My entire career has been spent in little rooms packed with other people, so I enjoy being alone at this point in my life, but I also realize that is not a good decision for the rest of my life. Teaching requires teachers to give and give and give, and students to take and take and take. I have given until it hurts far beyond what anyone knows, so I want to take for a while, including taking the time to make a decision that works for me.
Art imitates life, and while I'm not suggesting that Harry's Law is art, the life questions have me thinking. Unfortunately, I'm much more able to ask more questions than I am to come up with answers. Meanwhile, I continue to keep my part-time job because that allows me to know where to go and what to do until I am able to accept the alternatives.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Toasted Buns
Leaving class at 9 pm, I encounter temps in the 30s-40s, which may not seem cold to people from other climes, but freezes my back area when I have to enter my vehicle after it's been parked outside since mid-afternoon. The last few weeks, the cold has been particularly intense, creating actual physical pain in my lower back/hips as I left work, from which I tried to escape through wiggling, stuffing a towel behind my back, and turning the car heat up much too high.
A thought niggled at the back of my brain, but wouldn't surface. Once the rest of the RAV was warm, however, the thought thawed enough to articulate: I have seat warmers!! I've never used that option, probably because I didn't think about it, and I worried that I could be electrocuted if the wires were crossed, but I pressed the heated seat button and waited.
Slowly, the heat intensified until my backside thawed and felt as if it were on fire! I cannot express in mere words how great that warmth feels as it soothes the pain from the extensive arthritis. Believe me, I never dreamed that I would either want to, or actually use, the heated seat option, but it's now my favorite part of the RAV.
Toasted buns, on a cold winter night, is a delicious travel option.
A thought niggled at the back of my brain, but wouldn't surface. Once the rest of the RAV was warm, however, the thought thawed enough to articulate: I have seat warmers!! I've never used that option, probably because I didn't think about it, and I worried that I could be electrocuted if the wires were crossed, but I pressed the heated seat button and waited.
Slowly, the heat intensified until my backside thawed and felt as if it were on fire! I cannot express in mere words how great that warmth feels as it soothes the pain from the extensive arthritis. Believe me, I never dreamed that I would either want to, or actually use, the heated seat option, but it's now my favorite part of the RAV.
Toasted buns, on a cold winter night, is a delicious travel option.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
No Shades of Grey
Satellite radio came with the RAV, so I accepted the free trial period, then extended my subscription with an offer that kept the cost reasonable. It's challenging to program stations and/or find stations on the dial, especially while driving, but one channel accepted the programming set, so I access it while I'm driving to and fro. Dr. Laura is acerbic; she listens, interrupts, asks questions, then offers pronouncements. Often, her advice sounds harsh, but I've come to realize that she does not believe in shades of grey: life is black or white, so if we accept that reality and live with it, things just seem simpler and life goes on.
Caller: What can I do when ...?
Dr. Laura: Nothing. It's out of your control.
Caller: But, I have to do something because ...
Dr. Laura: There is nothing you can do because it's not your decision. It's out of your control, so move on.
I fret; I try to figure out how to change what is to be what I want/need it to be. I drive not just myself, but the people who know me, crazy because I want to fix it -- whatever it is. I self-examine endlessly, reliving what I did/what I did not do, what I said/what I did not say/what I couldawouldashoulda said, working to find another end result. Meanwhile, the other party has moved on, refusing to accept any responsibility for his/her part in the problem. S/he found a solution: whatever. If it bothers me, but s/he has already let it go, why do I nail one foot to the floor and think I'm making progress when I continually go around and around in the same circle?
Remove the nail, lift my foot, and walk away. That's what my antagonist did, sometimes many years before today, but I've stayed ... here.
Dr. Laura says it over and over again, and every time I listen to her show, I think of a way I could fix it. Finally, after 6 months of listening, of being a passive participant in the process, I'm getting it: life is so far past where I am stuck that I'm left behind. Get over it. Move on. Surely I have other things to do, other people to meet, new places to visit. The clock is ticking and I'm wasting valuable personal energy on ... what? With my personal resources, I could change the world if I put my mind to it, but my mind is controlled by the issues in Greyland. Let go of them and step into the light.
Another one of my faults is that I'm much better at giving advice than I am at taking it. Working on it.
Caller: What can I do when ...?
Dr. Laura: Nothing. It's out of your control.
Caller: But, I have to do something because ...
Dr. Laura: There is nothing you can do because it's not your decision. It's out of your control, so move on.
I fret; I try to figure out how to change what is to be what I want/need it to be. I drive not just myself, but the people who know me, crazy because I want to fix it -- whatever it is. I self-examine endlessly, reliving what I did/what I did not do, what I said/what I did not say/what I couldawouldashoulda said, working to find another end result. Meanwhile, the other party has moved on, refusing to accept any responsibility for his/her part in the problem. S/he found a solution: whatever. If it bothers me, but s/he has already let it go, why do I nail one foot to the floor and think I'm making progress when I continually go around and around in the same circle?
Remove the nail, lift my foot, and walk away. That's what my antagonist did, sometimes many years before today, but I've stayed ... here.
Dr. Laura says it over and over again, and every time I listen to her show, I think of a way I could fix it. Finally, after 6 months of listening, of being a passive participant in the process, I'm getting it: life is so far past where I am stuck that I'm left behind. Get over it. Move on. Surely I have other things to do, other people to meet, new places to visit. The clock is ticking and I'm wasting valuable personal energy on ... what? With my personal resources, I could change the world if I put my mind to it, but my mind is controlled by the issues in Greyland. Let go of them and step into the light.
Another one of my faults is that I'm much better at giving advice than I am at taking it. Working on it.
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