Mitey mite

If You Think They're After You And They Really Are, Are You Still Paranoid?

2009-07-07T07:43:00.003-05:00

I had a very strange incident last weekend, one that indicated that either some very stupid thieves stopped by, or my old stalker left me a message.

Saturday morning I noticed that the hood of my car was not fully shut. I opened it expecting to see my battery gone, but everything was in place. Something distracted me before I could look inside the car and with all the company and cooking and fireworks, I never got back to my car all day.

Sunday morning, though, I discovered that my XM radio was gone. Not the antenna, not the wiring, just the radio. Which has a specific serial number that must be activated, making it absolutely useless to sell or pawn. Not to mention that they are dirt cheap.

It was also obvious that someone had gone through my glove box. Papers were scattered on the floor and the little book cover that holds the manual was empty but zipped. I have never, ever zipped it. Someone had also gone through the center console and made sure I knew about that, too, because a CD was in the driver's seat. But the console on the dashboard, the one with the GPS in it? -- completely untouched. The small air compressor on the front porch, just a few feet away? -- also untouched. However, the skirt in a Macy's bag in the back seat was gone, although the bag was still there. Oh, and one more thing, the 18-month old open pack of cigarettes that I keep to remind me that not smoking is a choice, not an obligation -- they were gone, too. The things that were missing were very personal, not valuable, and things that only I would notice

So either I was visited by a cross-dressing, tobacco-addicted thief who took something that would do him no good at all, or my ex-husband paid a visit. (I should note here, NOT the father of my children.) I divorced this man 26 years ago and I moved away, so I know this sounds paranoid to even suggest. But he was one of those evil control freaks who stalked me and did horrible things for years. One of his favorite things to do during his reign of terror was unscrew my outside light bulbs. The message was very clear: I can get as close to you as I want and there's nothing you can do to stop me. Is that the message he thought he was leaving this time?

The timing is right. We used to camp on Bolivar Peninsula on holiday weekends and I'm sure he would have come down to see for himself what Ike did. And it's easy enough to google me and find out where I live. So maybe he decided to drive by my house and see what kind of damage I had. What made him decide to leave me a message? Who knows! Maybe someone dumped him, or he got laid off, or the Professor's Corvette made him jealous. He is very cunning, and he probably figured it would drive me crazy trying to decide if it was stupid thieves or him.

But you know what? I spent about an hour trying to figure it all out, and then realized that it didn't matter a bit. Nothing of value is gone. It appears that the intent was to make me feel vulnerable and scared. But he can't scare me anymore. I know that I am smarter than he is, I am stronger than he is, and I am getting the best revenge, which is living well. This whole thing has made me realize that the fear and anger are completely gone, and all that's left is a faint whiff of regret that he did not live up to his potential, and a lot of contempt.

So if it was stupid thieves, well, I hope they enjoy the skirt and the very stale cigarettes. I may be paranoid or not but I don't really care. My life is very good and it will take a lot more than an a**hole, known to me or not, to scare me.

At the Aquarium

2009-06-28T05:48:00.002-05:00

Yoda spent the afternoon at the aquarium yesterday.

We Need Standards

2009-06-22T09:30:00.002-05:00

On Saturday I did what every woman dreads. I tried on bathing suits. No matter how much you've exercised and dieted, the experience leaves you feeling fat and flabby, and if you've been really bad about the exercise and diet thing lately ... well, curling up in a corner and crying seems like an appropriate response.

But, you know, the stores could improve this experience if they would just put in the proper mirrors. We all know that some mirrors make you look thinner -- excuse me, I mean they accurately reflect your body -- while others add pounds and bulges, apparently from sheer malice. And who needs a malicious mirror? Especially one that reflects you in a bathing suit.

I'm sure we've all had the experience of looking in two different mirrors while wearing the same outfit, and seeing two different bodies reflected. The real problem is that we don't know which one is right. So we try to catch our reflection in store windows and unexpected mirrors. I'm pretty sure we're thinking that if we see ourselves unexpectedly we'll see the "real" person. But even the surprise glimpses are different -- in this one you look great, in that one you look overweight.

There are standards for alomost everything we use: light bulbs, measuring cups, appliances, thread count for sheets, horsepower for engines, you name it, someone has set standards for it. So why can't they regulate mirrors? Wouldn't it be nice if the mirrors came with a label, "F" for "makes you look fatter". "T" for "makes you look thinner" and "A" for "accurate reflection." If we had those standards, stores could put in the "T" mirrors. Bet they would sell a lot more bathing suits!

A Small Mistake

2009-05-27T08:04:00.003-05:00

Memorial Day. Following our usual tradition, the Professor drove to Louisville and I flew. We saw some friends in Louisville, drove up to the Indy 500, and back to Louisville. My flight home was early Monday morning. I went down to breakfast and let the Professor sleep in.

When I got back to the room, my key didn't work. Oh great, maybe they already cancelled it. Or maybe I had it next to my cell phone. Well, I'll swipe it again. Still no luck. Start knocking on the door. "Prof? Let me in!" Swipe. Knock. Call. Swipe. Knock. Call.

Finally, I hear a voice: "Just a minute." One small problem: it's not the Professor's voice. Now I look at the number on the door and realize I'm on the wrong floor.

I moved so fast down that hallway that I probably left flames in my wake. I heard the door open just as I turned the corner.

I didn't do it. He can't prove it. And, anyway, no one saw me.

Bad Choices

2009-05-13T15:03:00.003-05:00

Remember when you were a kid and your friends would throw impossible choices at you: "Which would you rather do, burn to death or freeze to death?" "Kiss a porcupine or eat a worm?"

I have a confession to make. Absurd as it sounds, I worry that some day my two greatest fears will combine into an impossible choice.

Fear One is that my car will careen off the road, crash through a bridge, and end up in deep water. I have read all the helpful hints about how you have to wait until the water has covered the car and the pressure equalizes so you can open the door. I have even tried visualizing it, in the same way pilots train for disasters. Usually I get as far as the water coming in the car before I turn into a babbling idiot who has to be distracted from those thoughts with shiny objects.

Fear Two is alligators. They are fast and they can swallow things whole. While most gators are on the small side, 4 - 6 feet long, and only big enough to swallow small dogs and small children, a 15 - 18 foot gator could swallow me.

When I drive from Houston to Louisiana, which I do fairly often, about 45 minutes of the drive is spent on one incredibly long bridge which goes through the Atchafalaya River Basin and Swamp. I am so careful driving through here in hopes that I will never end up sitting in my sinking car, waiting for the pressure to equalize, and then noticing a huge alligator hanging around in anticipation of my opening the door.

A couple of weeks ago I was having a conversation with a survivalist sort from Louisiana -- a fisher, trapper, hunter and gatherer all rolled into one. I confessed my fear to him, hoping he would laugh and put my worries to rest. Instead, he said "Yeah, you're right, a splash the size a car would make would bring the 18 footers out to take a look. You can slap the smaller ones on the nose [can you visualize slapping an alligator!], but you wouldn't be any match for the big ones."

How about if I just kiss the porcupine AND eat the worm?

There Is No Coherent Theme To This

2009-04-29T08:50:00.005-05:00

Over the weekend we went to the Professor's 50th high school reunion. I think I actually saw more people I was close to than Prof did, as a couple of my brother's close friends were there, plus a girl from my class. Every time I see her she tells the story of how we were driving down to Austin, with my father asleep in the back seat, and I got stopped by a cop for doing 100 mph. (Actually, I think it was only 95.) What can I say? -- I was 17, maybe 16, and I just got in a zone where I was passing every car in sight. This story used to really embarrass me but Saturday night I realized that that incident was my first experience in talking my way out of a ticket, something I have done pretty well ever since. Not that I speed. Oh no, I wouldn't do that. Trust me.

Now I am in Lousiana. I got a room at my favorite hotel, the one I absolutely could not get into for two years. The last time I was here I could not get on the internet, but I thought I would give it one more try. And everything is working. So I have had my crab au gratin dinner, served with the best cole slaw and the best hush puppies in the world; I have shopped at the outlet mall; I have even squeezed sales calls into my schedule.

About that shopping... I wouldn't say that I have short legs, but I bought the cutest pair of pants with cuffs and they are the perfect length, no hemming required. And do you know how I found these perfect pants? -- They are capris. I wish I were kidding but, sadly, no.

Too Much to Bear

2009-04-25T08:20:00.000-05:00

This should put things in perspective. I know it did that for me.

PresentStorm's cousin Tim died last Sunday. He was 33, a kind, decent hard-working young man. He was one of those rare people that you meet who you like instantly, who always seem interested in everyone and everything around them.

Tim left his amazing wife Tracy, a 17 year old son TJ and a 9 year old son Travis, who has cerebral palsy and is confined to a wheelchair. I have mentioned Travis before, the child with the smile that could light up a city, the one who makes you feel glad just to be alive because of his beautiful spirit. Tracy was going to have a tough enough time, but there's more.

Tracy's mom died the same day Tim did. Not only did she have to deal with those two losses at once, but there is a brother with Down's Syndrome and it looks like Tracy will have to care for him. I am reminded of something Mother Teresa said:

"I know God never gives you more than you can handle, but sometimes I wish He didn't trust me quite so much."

I met Tim and Tracy at Guppy's and PresentStorm's wedding. We talked late into the evening, and Tracy said something that night that may be the perfect epitaph for Tim, and that shows her incredible character:

"I am so blessed. You see how Tim is with Travis. I could not have asked for a better man."

May he rest in peace. And could you all say a little prayer for Tracy to have the strength to deal with all that has been put upon her plate.

UPDATE: I just learned that Tim's parents are planning to sell their house and Tracy's and they will all buy a house together. That way there will be enough hands to care for Travis and the brother with Down's Synmdrome. Note that the brother (whose name I don't know) is no blood relation to Tim's parents, yet they are willing to go share their home with him and help care for him. I am so humbled by the innate goodness in this family.

The Soap Opera That Is My Life

2009-04-22T09:46:00.006-05:00

The Professor and I went to visit his daughter and family in Connecticut. We had a wonderful time -- walked the Freedom Trail in downtown Boston, went to Cape Cod, checked out the Cliff Walk and some of the mansions in Newport RI, went to a beach somewhere in Rhode Island, and just generally enjoyed ourselves. The weather was, oh, maybe 25 or 30 degrees colder than it is here and the wind came directly from the North Pole and did not pass go or collect $200. So when we went to the beach, rather on the spur of the moment, we had to dig around in their car for warm outer garments. I thought we looked like Homeless Day at the Beach.

I was much too clever to let anyone take a full-length picture of me, as I wearing a jacket that came down to my knees. But they were laughing so hard at me that I had to get a self portrait. I thought I looked kinda cute in the fur-lined bomber helmet.

Note that I DID NOT take a full-length shot. I have some pride.

On Saturday afternoon I got a call from the teenager who was feeding the cats. She said the streets were flooded because we got ten inches of rain in two hours. She was saying something about a window that I never understood (because all teenagers seem to speaking Greek on the phone),but later Guppy called to tell me that 3 houses on my street had been hit by a tornado. I called our police department, where they would not verify addresses but said that all the damage was minor.

Either the tornado jumped over my house or the little bunker we turned it into was too strong because there was no structural damage. But my lawn swing and park bench, which survived hurricane Ike with no problem, looked like this:

One piece of that broken metal was stabbed into the earth deep enough that we will have to dig it out.

Of course, this tornado was inevitable. There are 8 or 10 families living in travel trailers in their front yards. You know how tornadoes always head for the trailer parks.

Feeding Frenzy

2009-04-07T08:11:00.006-05:00

Last night I kept noticing big splashes out in the bay. A school of huge fish? No, it was a flock of pelicans feeding. They kept it up for at least an hour. I think you can click on the picture to make it bigger and see the pelicans better.

For some rare and unknown reason, we had a cold front. In April. In Houston. When the wind is out of the north, it blows the water off the shore and we have a beach.

You notice the remains of a long-gone fence, which is usually well under water -- just one of the many reasons why no one swims in the bay. Except for all those fish.

This is our neighborhood dock, and you can clearly see how high the water normally is. A couple of us are starting to talk about a dock party -- that's where we get together and nail the boards back onto the pilings, which we have to do after tropical storms and hurricanes. But since at least a third of the people in the neighborhood are either living elsewhere or in a trailer in their driveway, we've all had more important things on our minds than the dock. But I think it's time for those of us whose houses are pretty much back together to make things more normal for everyone.

Happy April

2009-04-01T06:08:00.003-05:00

So far, April is shaping up like a marathon. I will have Easter here for the family. On the 16th we will leave to visit Prof's daughter and her family in Connecticut for 5 days. We get back on a Monday; the following weekend we go to Dallas for Prof's 50th high school reunion. I am campaigning with my company to go to the API spring meeting in Denver; if they say yes, I will fly from Dallas to Denver EARLY Monday morning -- like before the sun rises early -- and then home to Houston Wednesday night. And I really should go to Louisiana next week. I love to travel, but I hate it when it all comes at the same time.

My company is having a huge reorganization. Supposedly we will find out this week just where our territory is, who we report to, even what segment of our market we will focus on. I am not worried because at the sales meeting in March I cornered the two top executives and shamelessly told them all my accomplishments, ending with a little wail about how I am finally at a point in my career where I know some things and I know some important people and I would hate to think the company would waste that. I was assured on the spot that the company would, indeed, take advantage of what I have learned. (I should be ashamed of doing that, but I'm not. ) So now I know what I will be focusing on, but the customers I call on and the area I call in and who I will report to are still unknown. And that is why, even though the territory needs a salesman in Louisiana next week, I'm not sure that it should be me.

Over the years I have murdered a lot of plants because I bought more than I could get in the ground. So on Saturday when I went to the nursery I used every bit of self-restraint I could muster to only buy as many flowers as I knew I could plant. And, of course, most of them are still sitting in the garden, waiting to be planted. The year of remodeling plus the months spent getting the newly remodeled house in order plus the months spent repairing the hurricane damage to the newly remodeled house equals a totally neglected yard. In order to plant anything, I first have to dig up the grass and weeds that took over.

Now this is weird. I had an Antique Blush rose bush. It was so hardy it would withstand drought, bugs, prolonged fog, even salt spray. You would think if anything could take a big drink of salt water and come out smiling, that would be the plant. But no, it's dead. My little pedigreed red rose, on the other hand, is happy as it can be. I made the Professor a very happy man when I asked him to go use the chain saw on the dead rose bush. Of course he didn't stop there -- what's a chain saw for if not to prune things? -- but he surprised me with his discretion. His daughter has told me the story of When Dad Pruned the Roses With a Chain Saw, which apparently did not have a happy ending. Perhaps he finally grew up?

And Yoda has made me so proud. I blogged a year or two ago about how Chula was getting old and I saw a squirrel chasing her. Yesterday Yoda was helping me in the garden (he digs just like a dog!) when he noticed a squirrel. They have gotten very smug, thinking they are safe from animals in our yard, so they sit on the ground and taunt us. Well, either Yoda was well hidden by the plants or the squirrel was convinced that no cat is a threat, because Yoda had plenty of time to notice the squirrel, hunch down on his front paws, wiggle his little butt like he's winding up a rubber band, and launch himself at amazing speed. By the time I caught up he was sitting at the base of a pecan tree, looking up to see if there was another fun toy he could chase. I am thinking that with Yoda on guard, I may actually get my pecans this year. See, I really do have a guard cat!

More Costa Rica

2009-03-23T03:38:00.012-05:00

Lrt's see, I left the Professor bobbing in the El Toro River in Costa Rica.

Eventually, we rescued him.

The rest of the rafting trip looked pretty much like this:

I would do that every week, if I could. It is so exhilarating!

I mentioned earlier that this was the wettest dry season on record. The La Fortuna waterfall was a lovely, musical waterfall the last time I was there. The Professor and I waded in the quiet water around it. This is what it looked like this time:

We found the coolest thing -- a nest of baby hummingbirds. Look at the "y" of the tree. Just above the light color you will spot some beaks and eyes.

We left the Arenal area after 3 days because we were tired of being wet all the time. That's twice now that I have stayed at a lodge at the foot of the Arenal volcano and I still haven't seen the top of it. Eveyone else in the world gets to see the red rocks thrown out, but not me. Oh well. We drove down to Manuel Antonio, a very small national park which is basically a penisula of rainforest surrounded by ocean.

The animals are very used to humans so it's pretty easy to spot them.

Our first night there we stayed in a very nice cabin. The next night, as a gift of the Professor because it was WAY out of my budget, we stayed at an exquisite little hotel. The Professor and I had a suite that was almost as big as my first house: living room, bedroom, two bathrooms, one with a shower big enough to hold a whole basketball team, and a huge balcony with jacuzzi overlooking the Pacific. D-Man and Jess had to be content with a much smaller suite, living room, bedroom, only one bathroom and the jacuzzi on a patio that did not face the ocean. Poor babies. This was our favorite swimming pool:

There were two private beaches. One had a small restaurant and we watched monkeys playing all around us while we ate lunch. It was simply incredible there. I think we may have spoiled D-Man because when we left there and went up to the hotel on the beach at Tamarindo, which was supposed to be the grand finale of the trip, it was pretty obvious he did not like the hotel anywhere near as much.

But he rose to the occasion and managed to enjoy the beach!

Whitewater Rafting

2009-03-16T15:19:00.012-05:00

The Professor did a whitewater raft trip 20 or 30 years ago. I did one last August. D-Man and Jess had never done one, so what else would we do but skip the Class I - II beginner's trip in favor of the Class III - IV expert trip. Experience is for wimps, right? The water was certainly warmer than the 38 degree river I encountered last summer. But last summer there were long stretches of relatively calm water, a few patches of not too rough whitewater, and two scare-you-half-to-death-and-try-to-drown-you rapids. This trip was constant whitewater, most of it rough, and a lot of it trying to throw us out of the raft. We barely had time to do a high-five with our paddles after a treacherous rapid before we were paddling for our lives again.

But we loved it! Look at this picture. See the three happy faces as they paddle their way through. See the back of the guide as he stands in the raft, holding out his paddle to ... oh wait, that's the fourth happy face. Is that the Professor in the water? Only the guide, who is paid to notice little details like passengers falling out of the raft, even knew he was gone. This was our first rapid, immediately after we left shore, and we were giving a new meaning to concentration. You could have put an alligator in the raft with us and I don't think we would have noticed.

These operators are equipped with cameras that take four pictures a second, and there are many, many more pictures of the happy paddlers looking more and more determined, some closeups of the Professor bobbing through the rapids, and finally him being hauled in and all the rest of us noticing for the first time that he had not been aboard the raft.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety-Jig

2009-03-15T10:54:00.005-05:00

We're back from our trip and of course I have pictures and stories to tell. It would take some time to get it all down, so I think I'll just start out with our schedule and fill in from there.

Saturday -- We flew to Liberia, rented a car and had lunch at what turned out to be a nasty little place. They served "snacks" consisting of tortilla chips with mayonnaise and ketchup drizzled on top. I think Jess was getting sick before this, but this did her in! We had to stop the car for her more than once on our trip through the mountains to our hotel at Arenal Volcano. We were almost there when we ran into this:

Just a little mudslide across the road. Apparently this is nothing unusual, as several locals had shovels in their cars and started digging enough mud off the road so that cars could pass.

Sunday -- A hike to the La Fortuna waterfall in the morning and zip lines in the afternoon, followed by a soak in the hot springs-fed pool.

Monday -- White water rafting.

Tuesday -- Since the Arenal area was having its wettest dry season EVER, and since Monteverde Cloud Forest was having even MORE rain, we elected to drive through the cloud forest and further on south to Manuel Antonio, a small national park that has rain forest and beach together.

Wednesday -- Hiked through the rainforest. Had to find a hotel, as the one the night before could only accomodate us for one night. Story later about the incredible hotel where we ended up. Had lunch with the monkeys, played on the (private) beach, swam in the pool.

Thursday -- Catamaran ride, snorkeling, drove on up north to Tamarindo.

Friday -- Messed around on the beach at Tamarindo all day.

Saturday -- Back home again.

Doesn't look like much to list it out, but I promise you, we are all sore and sun burned and in need of rest.

D-Man -- Mr. Cool, Mr.-I-Never-Smile -- looked like this just before takeoff:

And I don't think that grin ever went away for the whole trip.

So Much To Do

2009-03-06T04:27:00.002-06:00

I feel like the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland -- rush here, rush there, finish nothing, worry about it all -- no time to say Hello, Goodbye, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!

1. Two weeks ago I flew to Tulsa for the day to do a presentation at a refinery. As a friend of mine often puts it, I hit a home run. The man in charge was not prepared to like me, and we could all see the stages he went through as he warmed up to me. Now we're best buds.

2. The day after Tulsa, I drove to Corpus Christi to do a different presentation at a professional group. I had prepared it just for this group, so I ran through it one last time in my room, then went downstairs and had a drink with the group. The guy with the projector arrived and I went in the room to plug my computer into it. (Yes, I know I should have had the presentation on a memory stick. I had a memory stick at home. Yoda. Enough said.) When I turned my computer on, a message flashed up that said my profile had been corrupted, and every.single.file disappeared. I called IT; they said it would take several hours to fix. So I stood there contemplating my two options: run out and buy a whiteboard and some markers and talk about as much as I could remember -- or go drink lots more and dance on the tables. I really could not think of a third option. Fortunately, Projector Guy also turned out to be Super Nerd, and he recovered my presentation for me. You know how actors say they do a better performance when they have an edge? -- well, believe me, I had a terrific edge! It actually did go very well, and I was happy in the end.

3. At the beginning of this week, I flew to Kentucky for a sales meeting. Today I have to take care of a number of business things, make a sales call at a place more than an hour away, and prepare for our trip, leaving tomorrow morning, to Costa Rica. I am taking D-Man and his girlfriend. Originally this trip was going to be for D-Man and Skater Dude, but Skater Dude would not get his passport and finally told me he wasn't that interested in the trip.

4. The Professor has been gone for most of the last month. The thermostat is not working, so heat and air are iffy, at best. The big tv in the den is also not working. If I had any time to watch tv, I would have to do it in the game room.

5. Yesterday Yoda had two surgeries, one to neuter him and one for the bump on his nose, which turned out to be essentially ingrown hair follicles. There are three possible diagnoses of what caused it, only one of which might come back and might metastisize. I am going with the 66% chance that it was benign and it's gone for good. I can just picture the people who abandoned him in the first place tossing him out the car window, and Yoda hitting his nose as he fell.

6. My plan for the coming week was to take Chula to my mother's, an arrangement they both enjoy, and Yoda to Guppy's. Guppy's dog Gizmo hurt his back and is on bed rest and they are afraid that Yoda would be too distracting. So now I don't know what to do. I could board Yoda at the vet's, but he would be in a cage all week and he is much too active for that. I could leave Yoda and Chula in the house and get the neighbor to feed them -- this is assuming that I can find her, I've been trying since Wednesday to pay her for feeding them at the beginning of the week. This doesn't give them much human companionship. I can't take Yoda to my mother's, he is too active for her. There is an outside chance that Crabgirl will take him. She has several cats, and Yoda would probably enjoy having someone to play with. This is really weighing on me.

7. I wasn't even able to look at hotel reservations until last Sunday. One hotel, on the beach at Tamarindo, was no problem -- reservations were a piece of cake. The other, at Arenal Volcano, insisted that I had to fax a credit card verification to them. I no longer have a fax, so I called them about it. They said I could scan and email the form, which I did. I have received an email that said they have availability but are waiting for the credit card verification. Of course, leaving the house at 4:30 AM on Monday gave me no opportunity to do anything about it. So straightening that out has to be added to my long list of Things To Do Today.

8. My small hot-pink camera has disappeared. I have a vague recollection of having it at the restaurant for my mother's 89th birthday celebration, and having someone run after me because I was leaving it behind. I was carrying my mother's presents to the car, which I was going to drive to the front door of the restaurant to get her, so I thought perhaps I tossed the camera in one of the bags -- or was there just one bag? -- you see, too much has gone on and I just don't remember. I do still have my bigger camera, so I guess I will just take it and not worry about getting pictures from zip lines.

And that is what I have to remember all day: do the things I absolutely have to do and don't worry about the rest.

Life With Yoda

2009-02-16T10:15:00.006-06:00

I'm not exactly sure what I've been doing, but it certainly has kept me busy. I have a couple of talks to give, one at a refinery and one at a professional association meeting, and I've been spending a lot of time working on those. Fortunately, I have help.

Yoda actually does some of the typing for me. He specializes in "aaaaaaaaaa" and in hitting the Caps Lock button. He also likes to watch the cursor. But most of all, he likes the heat coming out of the computer.

Yoda leads a more balanced life than I do. He finds time for play, as well as work. Now that he has completely demolished the pink feathers on a stick that was his favorite toy, I bought him a 6-foot long pink feather boa. Now THIS is a toy! You can chase it when you find a human willing to run around the house pulling it; you can leap in the air to catch it; and when no humans want to play, you can find things to do all by yourself,

And in other Yoda news -- because that's the only kind there is around here right now -- he has obviously learned the word "fish" and when he hears it he comes running, sounding just about like a stampeding herd of cattle. He has always had a funny place on his nose, but it was growing at an alarming rate. The vet gave me some antibiotics, which have reduced the swelling but have not gotten rid of the original bump. She is going to look at it in a few weeks while he is under for his neutering.

Oh. Neutering. He heard that and I think he understood. He has been so sweet and trying so hard not to scratch or bite. See, Mama? I can be domesticated. You don't have to neuter me! At the vet's he was still being the Alpha Male, with a lot of scratching, biting and sqirming. She acted almost afraid of him and pretty much refused to touch his nose while he is awake. But he's been a different cat since that vet visit. Coincidence? Hmmmm.

I also wonder about this vet, who is new at the clinic. So my arm has a lot of scratches --- I told her I bruise easily. She had on long sleeves. If you are afraid to pick up an active kitten because it might scratch you accidentally, then I think you may be in the wrong profession.

Positively the Last Vacation Pictures (Maybe)

2009-01-28T13:24:00.014-06:00

I was going to leave the vacation stuff behind, but then Deni said she was born in Verdun France. How often do you meet someone who was born in Verdun? (Okay, technically, I've never met Deni, but I know her. You blog. You know how it is.) So here is a little bit of Verdun:

This is one of the war memorials in town. This one is at the end of the main street. Here is how things looked from the top of this memorial:

This is the river that runs through town. Although it was freezing, there were still teams of scullers.

This memorial, which dates back to World War I, is at the entrance to a small charming park sandwiched between the river and the town. One of the things we found in the park (in addition to the cat on a leash -- I still can't get over that!) was a sequoia tree which was donated to them by California in 1976. Sequoia trees in northern France. Oh sure. Well, look at the results:

And here is the view through the city gates and down the main street:

Gosh, if I'd only known I'd be showing someone her birthplace, I would have taken a lot more pictures!

The End of the Trip

2009-01-25T01:55:00.011-06:00

There was an Arctic front moving through Europe while we were there. As we left Prague to drive back to Paris and our flight home, we saw scenery like this:

We stopped in Germany to get gas and decided to have some lunch. We found the most amazing place, all glassed in and full of plants.

The service was a little slow, but the food and the atmosphere were delightful. That's the good part about the way we travel, with no real plans and no reservations -- we can take whatever presents itself and enjoy it.

We stopped that night in Verdun France, site of some very bloody battles in both World Wars. This was Friday night, but there were no restaurants open! We finally found one on the edge of town called Buffalo Grill, where I had a hamburger, French fries (pommes frites) and a mini bottle of Burgundy, which was the local wine. This was not at all what I expected to be eating in France, but this restaurant seems to be a big hit with the locals. Or maybe that's just because everyone else closes on Friday night, so they get all the business.

Verdun is a lovely very old city with the original city gates still standing. We walked around a bit, checked out the memorials, and spotted a woman walking both her dog and her cat on leashes. I wanted to take a picture but by the time we got close enough, the cat was , um, busy in the bushes, and I didn't want to startle it with the flash.

We ended up that night in Chantilly -- and, no, I couldn't find any lace. But what they had, in addition to a huge castle,

were lots of small shops. In fact, as we strolled down the street, we passed, in order, a butcher and a baker (but we never did see a candlestick maker.) Chantilly is a small town, but they had three chocolatiers. I chose the right one, because the owner spoke excellent English and was obviously enjoying his conversation with Texans. He even followed us out into the street to wish us a happy new year. This is so different from the reception we have gotten in the past. Europeans seem to like Americans again.

My favorite shop in Chantilly was the fruit and vegetable one. I couldn't even buy anything, as I was leaving the next day and couldn't take it on the plane, but I had a serious case of Shop Envy. Damn, that fruit looked good!

I had to content myself with profiteroles instead:

And finally, just for Guppy, I give you ... potato chips!

Okay, this whole post has turned into an ode to food. I think I must be hungry.

Helpless Little Kitten or Spawn of Satan?

2009-01-19T09:07:00.006-06:00

Sometimes Yoda looks like this:

I have tried in vain to get a picture of his Evil Twin, who puts his ears back and bites and scratches and races around the house attacking things. But here is a "results" picture:

This looked a lot worse on Saturday, so I went out and bought him $44 worth of toys. Actually, about $38 worth of toys plus some clippers to trim those razor-sharp claws just a little. One of the toys, four fuzzy little balls of different colors, was a big hit but turned his paws and chin bright pink. Unfotunately, I didn't think to take a picture, and, anyway, I'm not sure I'd want to humiliate him publicly like that. But pink was very popular with him.

This is essentially a feather boa attached to a wand. The moment I walked in the house and opened the bag Yoda was in my lap trying to get to the feathers. He chases it, he leaps for it, he bites it, he claws it ... and it is getting smaller by the moment.

When this is completely gone, I will go to the craft store and buy a long feather boa for him. It makes a mess, but it's easy to clean, and at this stage of his development, that's the best I can hope for.

Spoil a cat? Moi? Don't be silly!

The Mystery

2009-01-15T05:22:00.002-06:00

I was driving through Louisiana and was out in a big stretch of nothing betwwen Morgan City and Houma when all my electronic equipment stopped working. My GPS started telling me to turn where there weren't even any roads, much less any need to turn. The buttons on my Palm Pilot would not work. My cell phone had no signal. I was in a panic, wondering how I was going to get through my trip without those 3 essentials. But when I got to Houma, everything started functioning again.

If I had just thought to look up, I'm sure I would have seen the space ship hovering overhead, jamming all the electronics.

(So you think you have a better explanation?)

More Prague

2009-01-08T08:15:00.008-06:00

I believe that in the Czech language, adding "y" to the end of a word means "sold here" or "This is the place". So I assume that this sign indicated the merchandise sold within, and not the quality of the goods and services. But I had to have a picture of it, anyway!

This was a little town called Plzen (pronounced Pilsen -- the secret to pronouncing words with nothing but consonants is to stick a vowel, usually an "i", in there somewhere). The town is about an hour west of Prague and half an hour east of the German border. So there may be truth to their claim that they invented Pilsner beer. I was in a store buying postcards while the Professor waited outside, only to discover when I came out that I had just missed the Clydesdale-drawn sleigh with 8 beer kegs on it, making the day's deliveries to the bars. I could see the back of it; I tried running after it so I could get a picture, but they were too fast for me.

The frozen bushes were kind enough to hold still while I got a shot of them.

This was the view from our hotel window. The long white building is a tiny part of the massive Prague castle and the spires directly behind it are St. Vitus. Here is what things looked like up on the hill.

One of the most charming things about Prague was the abundance of nativity scenes, almost all of them very simple and handmade from straw or wood.

If you look carefully, you will see that Mary is anatomically correct. I was so charmed by the straw ornaments, especially the angels, that I saw in a kiosk. I was going to buy some for me and for my SIL of Czech descent. But it was early, I knew I would find them all over the city, I didn't want to carry them around all day ... you can guess the rest of the story. I didn't buy them and I never saw another stall selling them. We deliberately went back on New Year's Day, but they didn't open. So I guess that means I have to take another trip to Prague!

A Very Dobre Trip

2009-01-05T06:15:00.005-06:00

Happy New Year! I guess I'm a little late, but we just got back from Prague last night. And what a wonderful, beautiful, delightful ... um, and COLD ... place it is!

A river runs through town, the Elbe, I believe. At the top of the highest hill is the most massive castle complex I have ever seen. It includes several churches, one of them being St. Vitus.

I have pictures that show off the church better, but this one is special to me. We had just attended a concert in a basillica in this same castle complex -- an unheated basillica, I might add -- and when we came outside, St. Vitus seemed to be glowing. It was one of the loveliest things I ever saw, and I'm just sorry my camera can't capture the enchantment. Oh, and the concert? -- Have you ever seen an orchestra dressed in coats and hats and gloves? We were pretty doggone cold, too, but the music was wonderful.

When I first told my mother I was going to Prague, she said I couldn't go because I don't own a fur hat. I replied that if I needed one, I couldn't think of a better place to buy it. Can you say "first purchase?" And the scarf was second.

The thermometer had the temperature hovering right around 0 degrees C, which is 32 degrees F, so it shouldn't have been so bone chilling. But my ears would freeze without the hat, my hands would freeze without gloves, and I noticed there were no bare-headed people to be seen. For some reason, the Czech cold goes right through you.

We succumbed to the charms of a little old lady -- not that much older than I am, now that I think about, but at the time she seemed very old -- and bought tickets to the Czech National Ballet performance of The Nutcracker. Seeing the theater was worth the price of admission. It's one of those old, ornate, gold-leafed and carved theaters with a huge chandelier hanging from a frescoed ceiling. This version of The Nutcracker was certainly not the one I am used to. The first act was set in the village square and Herr Drosselmeyer was a mean stingy landlord who was throwing everyone out in the streets for non-payment of rent. Clara's mother bought the nutcracker, Clara did a dance that looked like amatuer night at the strip joint, and Drosselmeyer tore the nutcracker to pieces for absolutely no reason. Then Drosselmeyer went to bed and the devil appeared with several wraiths to prance and torment him. The costuming was heavy on the S&M and the devil swished off the stage. Then somehow the Nutcracker reappeared and became a prince and Clara transformed into the ... Sugar Plum Fairy? we think ...and the Snow Queen came from somewhere but all she ever did was wave her wand and the Snowflakes danced without snow. And then Clara went off on a sled -- yes, the kind you slide on -- pulled by the Prince and with a BABY on her lap, which got huge applause, but we had no clue how the baby got in there. Act two was full of more S&M costuming and the dances went beyond suggestive. It all ended with Drosselmeyer waking up Christmas morning a changed man and giving all his money away. It was very much Scrooge meets The Nutcracker in drag. It was inventive and creative, especially in the way they changed the music around, but being used to the sweet innocent version, all I could think was that I certainly would not take a child to that one.

New Year's Eve we watched fireworks from the top of the castle hill. They were being shot off all over town and it was simply incredible to see. The ones being shot from the river were like our fireworks finales, just a constant stream, that went on for about 20 minutes. I learned how to say Happy New Year in Czech, but that was a few bottles of wine ago... I managed quite well with yes, no, good, please and thank you, plus a whole lot of pantomime.

I have many more tales to bore you with, but they will have to wait.

I Want a New Face

2008-12-17T14:16:00.003-06:00

I am 64 years old. In a little less than a year, I will be eligible for Medicare. I get Senior discounts at some restuarants, movie matinees, and a few department stores on Tuesdays.

My throat has a spiderweb of fine lines running across it. My face has furrows: smile lines, laugh lines, frown lines, worry lines, squint lines, and lines that just showed up because they heard my face was the place to be.

Gravity is doing its thing, too. I am getting perilously close to having jowls. The bags under my eyes are growing their own bags.

And it goes without saying that it is only the miracle of better living through chemistry that turns my hair color back to something other than gray.

So do you know what I have smack dab in the middle of my chin? One large, shiny zit! WTF!!!!!

Bet you didn't know till just now that 64 is the new 16.

A Little Too Much Caution?

2008-12-16T08:34:00.001-06:00

It's good for companies to warn their customers if the product can catch fire easily, but this is a freakin' log for the fireplace!

Look What We Got!

2008-12-12T06:30:00.004-06:00

This is what I saw when I woke up yesterday. Snow! In Houston! I have lived here for 22 years and this is only the second time I have seen an accumulation of snow on the ground. I believe there has been some further inland, and we once had snow on the roof, but for snow that you can take pictures of and not have to explain to people what they're looking at --- well, this is a rarity and a very special treat. It was all gone by noon and I think the temperature got into the fifties, though the wind made it feel a lot colder.

Because all the vegeatation was force-fed a massive drink of salt water from the storm surge, all their leaves died. Most plants and trees then put out new leaves so they could get some fresh water circulating. I am wondering if those tender new leaves are going to be extra vulnerable to the cold.

This Bird of Paradise was in a big pot that broke when the surge tossed it around. Things were too chaotic to go shopping for a new pot right after the hurricane, so I just stuck it in the ground -- thinking, as I did so, that I was guaranteeing a freeze this year after several years without one, and hoping that this plant can miraculously survive.

The New Arrival

2008-12-02T06:06:00.004-06:00

If there is anything to reincarnation, I want to come back as one of my grandchildren or one of my cats. They are the most pampered creatures I know. A few years ago we had five cats, but all have died of complications of old age except Chula. She was at death's door after the hurricane, but we have nursed her back to excellent health. And she is The Queen. Or at least, she was.

On Sunday, Dolphin brought me a kitten. Her neighbor found it abandoned while she was jogging and brought it home. The kitten weighed less than 2 pounds, which means no shelter would take it except to euthanize, and the neighbor's dogs and the kitten were not a good fit. However, the neighbor knew that Dolphin was the biggest softie around, and had no trouble handing the kitten off. But sneaky Dolphin knew an even bigger softie, so here I am.

Here is the new member of the household.

His name was Orion for a day (because he has a belt) but it just didn't feel right when I said it. I was working my way through the alphabet, debating the merits of Darth, Elvis, Jedi and Luke (do you see a theme here?) when Guppy cut to the chase and suggested Yoda. And that fits. The force is definitely strong in this little one: you see him climbing up the couch, but an instant later you hear him pouncing on a ball in another room. Energetic he is, and loving, too.

Unfortunately, Chula is furious. We did not need another cat, she did not want another cat. She has been growling and spitting at Yoda. Last night I had Chula wrapped in her blanket on the couch, all soothed and happy, when Yoda jumped up there. Chula immediately growled at him, but Yoda just lay down on the edge of the blanket and turned his back to Chula. Every few minutes he would look back over his shoulder to see if Chula was still watching him. Once she gave up and ignored him, he laid his head down and snuggled into the corner of blanket he had managed to claim. It was obviously his intent when he first jumped on the couch to snuggle up to Chula. I hope she will relent and start mothering him soon. It would be good for both of them. And for me! Both cats seem to think that I should lavish attention on them all day long. What could possibly be more important?

Doing What I LoveTo Do

2008-11-30T10:37:00.008-06:00

One of the things I most enjoy doing is introducing grandchildren to the ballet. Being able to share something I love so much with children I love so much is a wonderful experience for everyone. Only one has ever found ballet so boring that when I glanced over at her to see her expression, I immediately had a huge spasm of guilt because it appeared that I was torturing her. A couple of others are in the take it or leave it category, but the majority have simply fallen in love with ballet and are always eager to go.

Friday night I had the pleasure of introducing the last two of our 10 grandchildren to the Nutcracker. I confess, I was a little worried about Little Girl, who is 5 -- excuse me, she is 5-1/2, as she will quickly tell you -- anyway, she is quite energetic and can be moody and I was praying that she would be interested and not bored. I didn't need to worry. I have never seen her sit so still for so long. She was simply enchanted. The rats and soldiers draw lobby duty at intermission and pose for pictures with children. After the performance, you can go to the Green Room and meet the soloists from the performance. Here are some pictures from the evening:

You think maybe they had fun? Technically, by blood, these are the Professor's grandchildren, but he is off on a dive trip and missed Thanksgiving and the ballet. On the subject of travel and holidays, we agree to disagree, and I'm sure we each secretly think the other's priorities are totally screwed up. But looking at a bunch of fish and coral that will still be there a few weeks or months from now vs. witnessing your granddaughter's first ballet? I certainly know who got the better end of that deal!

To - Do List

2008-11-24T08:24:00.003-06:00

My list:

1. Spend $140 on fixings for Thanksgiving dinner for 20. Check.

2. Start baking Christmas cookies and pumpkin bread. Check.

3. Give cookies and pumpkin bread away to customers as fast as they are baked. Check.

4. Now that all floors are in, put furniture back in its place. Check ... except for the knock-down bookcase that was missing hardware, and the knock-down file cabinet that showed an illustration of two pieces on their sides, which turned out to be an absolute lie, as the weight of one piece broke off a small appendage I had just carefully bolted and glued ... and also the coffee table, end table and two night tables which will be delivered tomorrow.

5. Put all the dishes back in the china cabinets, put knick-knacks in their proper place, make everything clean and tidy. ARE YOU KIDDING??? I CAN'T EVEN FIND MOST OF THE STUFF!

6. Eliminate all dust left from re-construction of the walls, baseboards and floors. I have vacuumed and dust-mopped over and over and still everything is dusty.

7. Find all the business receipts for November's expense report. Well, at least there's only three or four stacks of paper to go through now.

8. Work out a meal time that accommodates those having their first Thanksgiving dinner at noon, those having their second Thanksgiving dinner at 5:00, those serving dinner to displaced hurricane victims until 2:00, those working until 3:00, and those who will be here with big appetites shortly after noon. If anyone can figure this one out, you will be my bestest friend forever. It's a lot easier to do if you assume people will be transported from one place to another, a la Star Trek. That would save all kinds of time.

9. Remember to count my blessings. I have my health, a home I love, and the privilege of hosting big family gatherings. It really doesn't matter if the silver is polished, or if some people end up eating after the others. What matters is that we are family coming together to celebrate. My favorite childhood memories involve holidays spent with my aunt's big noisy family. I hope I am helping to make memories that will nourish my children and grandchildren in the same way my memories nourish me.

10. Wish everyone a very happy Thanksgiving. I can check that one off, and from the heart:

May you all have a very happy Thanksgiving!

Must be Murphy's Law

2008-11-10T13:40:00.003-06:00

Deep breaths. This is just an annoyance, not a tragedy. My house is intact, no lives were lost, everything will be okay.

They started putting in my wood floors today. The Professor and I moved all the furniture out of the rooms where the wood will go. Everything was going beautifully until I walked down the hall to the kitchen, glanced into the dining room where they were working, and ... eeek! ... what in the world are they putting on my floors?

Well over a year ago, I had picked a reddish floor. When we tried to order it, it was unavailable -- I thought it was discontinued, but apparently just out of stock. So I picked out a much browner color and was very grateful that circumstance had pushed me to that color. I chose all my paint and stain colors using the browner floor. But somehow my very nice, inexpensive but completely disorganized floor guy went back to the original color when he placed his order, despite having given me a bid in writing for the correct color. And it clashes. Oh dear, does it clash!

And of course we can't get the right color. He has gone beyond the flooring distributors to the manufacturer's rep, trying to find enough of it to do my house. If we can't find it, it will be 6 - 8 weeks before they can get it in.

The carpet is actually in his store, but his crews are booked solid. On top of it being the holiday season, everyone is getting their insurance checks for hurricane damamge now, and they all seem to be ready for carpet. All the furniture that was in the rooms needing laminate flooring is now stuffed into one bedroom -- and when I say stuffed, I mean you cannot walk into the room. But if he can work something out, I will move all that furniture out of the bedrooms, if it takes me all night to do it. We may have Thanksgiving dinner with concrete slab floors, but I really need carpet in the bedrooms so the company can sleep there.

Like I said, it's an annoyance, not a tragedy. But it sure does consume a lot of time and energy trying to straighten it out.

Way To Go, America!

2008-11-05T07:59:00.002-06:00

My great-grandfather owned a slave, just one, a young male whom he named Sidney, after himself. There is a family legend attached to Sidney which I am going to repeat here, but with the caveat that there is no transcript, no video tape of this event, and there is a tendency in all people to shade stories to their favor. In other words, I am not sure if I completely believe it or not.

It was the end of the Civil War and Sherman was marching through Georgia. War is a terrible thing even when God is on your side, and the Union troops were stealing everything they found, then burning the houses to the ground, even the small ones of those too poor to own more than one slave. Slaves were told that they were free men and now proud members of the Union Army.

We've all read about how news traveled at the speed of light through the slave network. Sidney knew the Union Army was coming and he ran off and hid. Several days later he returned, to find my great-grandparents packing what little they had left into a covered wagon. Here is the dialog as it has been handed down through the generations:

"Where are you going?"

"We're going to Texas. There's nothing here for us anymore."

"Then I'm going with you."

"No, you can't, you're a free man now."

"But you're my family."

However the conversation went -- and who knows, maybe it actually did go that way -- Sidney came to Texas with my ancestors and lived to be an old man. I have seen a picture of him sitting on my grandmother's front porch, holding my father when he was an infant and my grandmother somewhere well into her forties. A little thought convinces me that he was fed and clothed and sheltered, but the shelter was a separate hut or possibly a sleeping porch, the clothing was castoffs from family members, and the meals, while the same food as the family ate, were always solitary. I'm sure that he continued to labor for them, and that they never paid him wages. They were all aware that he was free, yet at least for my relatives, he wasn't a person they could associate with in the way they associated with other whites. But I'm also sure they were genuinely fond of him, and certainly the picture I have seen indicates that they took good care of him when he was far too old to work for them. I am not trying to make them seem either evil or saintly. I think they simply did the best they could.

I guess it takes generations for things to change. I have chronicled here before how my unthinking acceptance of the segregated world I grew up in was shattered. I have watched a lot of racial strife in this country, sometimes turning into violence. But yesterday we elected a President whose father was African. That could not have happened 100, 50, even 20 years ago. I happen to really, really like Obama's politics, but I think that even if he were diametrically opposed to my views -- say, if we had elected Clarence Thomas -- I would still be very proud to live in an America that can elect a man without regard to the color of his skin.

I Don't Understand It

2008-10-27T08:38:00.003-05:00

While I have never tried to hide my political leanings, I have tried to keep them out of this blog to a large extent. But something happened yesterday that really, really bothers me, and I just have to talk about it.

First, a little background. For what seems like centuries, I have been getting wild emails and hearing ridiculous stories about Barack Obama, and these over-the-top stories are being used as the rationale to vote for McCain. This is not meant to imply that there are no valid reasons for preferring McCain; of course there are. But when people start talking about Obama being the head of a sleeper cell, or something equally as ridiculous, the only conclusion I can make is that the bottom line is racism, plain and simple. I have made a lot of people squirm by commenting that I know I'm voting for Obama, I just haven't decided if I'll vote for his black half or his white half. And I have begun to think I would respect people more if they simply came out and said they will not vote for a black man because of his race.

I was talking to one of my neighbors, a woman who was born in an Asian country. She and her husband lived in Louisiana for a couple of years, and she has told me how much prejudice she encountered there, and how much it hurt. So imagine my surprise when she said "If it weren't for the economy, Obama wouldn't even be running. Everyone knows blacks can't run things."

If you are discriminated against, and then want to discriminate against others, what does that make you? Is it only racism when it's someone else's point of view? She came as close as anyone has to admitting her real reason for being against Obama, and you know what? -- I don't respect her more, after all.

House Update

2008-10-12T04:37:00.004-05:00

The insurance adjuster finally showed up yesterday. He said they had just now given him our name, even though we have called repeatedly and he has been on our street several times. Anyway, he gave us a check on the spot to get the repairs started. He said the approved method is to tear out every bit of sheetrock, which includes tearing out the kitchen and bathroom cabinets and my built-in bookcases, but not, oddly enough, the brick hearth. Then he said that the company would give us the money to do it, but whether we do it or not is up to us.

I honestly don't think there is any mold growing behind my kitchen cabinets. I don't see any sign of it where there is sheetrock and not wood, like under the sink. And my beautiful granite consigned to the landfill? --- arrgh! The builder drilled holes in the kickplates under the cabinets. No one has seen any sign of mold under the cabinets, and our plan has been, and probably still is, to use a microbial spray, then repair the kickplate.

I don't think I ever mentioned here How I Saved the New Furniture. (I feel heroic, so it needs a title like a serial installment of Wonder Woman.) The Professor had already left town and I was trying to deal with everything. I really didn't expect a storm surge but I was afraid some rain water might seep through the patio doors and damange my brand new Ethan Allan furniture -- the very first good furniture I have ever owned. So while my 88-year-old mother sat and watched helplessly, I shoved 2 encyclopedia volumes under each leg of the couches, then rolled up the Oriental rug and hefted that on top of a couch. When the Professor tried to take the rug off the couch by himself, he couldn't. He said he will be very careful about picking any fights with me now that he realizes how strong I am. (Still Mitey Mite!) He told the story to the insurance agent, whose response was "Then you'll need to claim the encyclopedias." I hadn't even considered that, any more than I considered claiming all the yarn that got wet.

There are some small rewards for all this hassle. My vacuum burned up and when I went to get a new one (some things won't wait for the insurance guy), I discovered that they now come in red. If you have to vacuum, you might as well have something bright and cheerful to do it with. The dryer, which we think was the main culprit for letting water in the house through the outside vent, still works but we're pretty sure it won't for long. I intend to buy my very-first-ever-in-my-whole-life matching washer and dryer. And I can get those in red, too!

Chula is feeling better now, too. I had to force the vet to do a urinalysis and the poor little cat had a very bad bladder infection. Between the fluids to rehydrate her and the antibiotic, she started feeling good enough to notice that she hasn't eaten well lately. She is making up for it now, demanding food every 2 or 3 hours. That's okay, I'm just so glad she's going to live.

Of Hurricanes and Tough Old Broads

2008-10-11T05:00:00.003-05:00

Well. We are now in the waiting period of hurricane recovery. We are waiting on the insurance adjuster to look at the damage and officially proclaim that it indeed was damage caused by a hurricane. We are waiting on the builder to replace the sheetrock we had to tear out, and tape, bed, texture and paint it. Then we will wait on the floor guys, and, after that, the furniture guys. My night tables now have cloven feet and had to be replaced. My big antique trunk that I have used as an end table for at least 30 years got wet and grew amazingly colorful mold. While I was buying a new end table I bought a coffee table to go with it, since the one I've had for at least 40 years just wasn't cutting it. And then I saw this exquisite little red Chinese chest and I gave into temptation. For various reasons, I went for years and years withour buying any furniture, and now I've fallen off the wagon and seem to be bingeing. And it feels so good!

Last weekend we went to visit the Professor's daughter & family in Mystic CT. What a charming little town! And how amazing to be able to drive just a little while and be in a different state. We were a little ahead of peak leaf color, but we saw this:

They are having a great time seeing all the places they've read about in history books, and I am hopeful that the Professor will now be willing to go east sometimes.

Chula has been getting progressively worse since we evacuated. She had a really stressful experience then where she spent about 36 hours hiding from dogs, no food or water and so much adrenaline that she went feral. She is 16, but she is a tough old broad like her owner, (excuse me, I mean staff). The vet gave her fluids and an appetite stimulant, which didn't seem to have any effect until the Professor fixed t-bone steak. I almost lost a finger when I offered a piece of steak to Chula! She has some symptoms, but the vet thinks they are all treatable. When I was searching for her during the evacuation I told myself she would probably die, anyway, but I didn't want her to die alone and terrified. Now I have raised the bar and I want her to be active and happy and content. I figure she's got another 2 - 4 years in her. Like I said, she's a tough old broad.

Alaska

2008-08-20T07:46:00.009-05:00

Alaska looked like what I once dreamed Colorado would look like: tree-covered mountains crowned with snow, fast-running streams and thick forests. Like this:

Then there were the incredible mountains and glaciers coming down to the ocean.
This is Resurrection Bay at Seward:

And, of course, there were glaciers

and bear

and lovely forest trails

I could probably just upload most of my 300+ pictures to show you the amazing diversity -- and we just saw a tiny corner. We could not work out a trip to Sitka, which was the capital when Russia owned Alaska, and which was #1 on my list of things to do. Unfortunately, when there were flights available, there were no hotel rooms in Sitka, and vice versa. So we've already decided to take a long weekend for that.

I have many stories to tell. Oh, and pictures. Did I mention pictures?

Saturday Photo Hunt: Dark

2008-08-09T09:37:00.004-05:00

I took this picture of an eclipse of the moon from my front yard. The night was dark, and it got substantially darker while the eclipse was going on.

The Ultimate Team-Building Exercise

2008-08-07T15:37:00.008-05:00

It was a sales meeting, but a very different one. We stayed in a quaint little hotel close to the White Salmon River. We went over all the stuff we are going to do at our national sales meeting in a couple of weeks. Then we did this:

What a rush!!!! Also, what a shock when the 40 degree water hits you. We practiced "hold on, get down!", which is the cue to quit paddling and hang on for dear life. I was really having trouble lining up my paddle, holding on to the outside rope, holding on to the inside rope, and getting my feet anchored under the pontoons so I would have a fighting chance of staying aboard. Time after time, the guide would yell "Hold on, get down!" and I would still be swinging my paddle while everyone else had hunkered down. I really thought he was going to make me walk around the falls but either he had started to like me for yelling "Yeeee-hah!" every time the water got a little rough, or he had started to dislike me and wanted to see me flip out of the raft. So I was very proud to see that I did the best job of keeping the paddle where it was supposed to be. I was just saving my good performance for when I needed it. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Also, I don't know if you can see it, but the men were screaming like little girls and the women were laughing. A little while later, the women had to sit on the very front of the raft to go down the Texas Bull Rider. (Which I have actually done. On a mechanical bull. When I wore size 1 jeans and the guy ran the machine ve - ry slow - ly so he could watch me bouncing for a long time.)

It was a lot easier to stay on that mechanical bull.

Saturday Photo Hunt: Clouds

2008-08-02T10:50:00.003-05:00

Several years ago a friend referred to these shafts of light as "angel slides" and it was such a perfect description that I have used it ever since. I can just see a group of giggling little angels sliding down, landing with a splash in the water, and floating back up to the cloud to do it again.

Too Much on the Brain

2008-07-29T04:10:00.006-05:00

My foot still hurts. My systolic (top number) blood pressure is still high, though lower than it was a week ago, but the diastolic is normal to low. I have several deadlines to meet, so I am once again up in the middle of the night to get the paperwork done. But since it's all numbers -- annual territory review, monthly expense report, next year's forecast -- I figured it was time to take a break and use some words. I am much more comfortable with words than with numbers.

Here is my schedule for the next few weeks:

Monday 8/4, fly to Portland for a "rehearsal" for the annual sales meeting. Return to Houston on 8/7.

On Saturday 8/9, fly to Alaska for vacation. Return 8/17

Sunday 8/24, fly to Baltimore for annual sales meeting. Return on 8/28

Tuesday, 9/2, drive to New Orleans. Return 9/5.

Monday 9/8 through Thursday, work annual trade show that goes all day and into the night.So that's part of what's waking me up in the middle of the night. Too many things to keep straight in my head! I'm also trying to figure out just what I want to see in Alaska. Oh, and I think a cousin from New England is coming this weekend. And my roots are gray.

I mentioned that we swapped our old laptops for new ones. I even bought a mouse with -- TA DA -- horizontal scroll. But I have this ancient Palm Pilot with over 2000 names, customer information, directions to plants, everything I need to know. I call it my brain. I had a series of difficulties trying to update my old Palm: I couldn't make a CD so I loaded the information on flash drive; the flash drive wouldn't work at all on one of the Professor's computers and the other one said I would have to buy some sofware before it would read it; when I got the new laptop it had no connection for the updating cradle; after several adaptors and software downloads I gave up and bought a new Palm. Which took all the information from the flash drive.

Now here's what has my panties in a wad: they refuse to reimburse me for the new Palm. It's not an "approved" gadget. I don't know exactly how they expect salesmen to keep up with their contacts, except through Outlook -- and that helps you when you're out of the office HOW??? I guess I'm being bratty, but I don't care -- I will not load all these contact names into Outlook where everyone would have access to them. They refuse to pay for something I use strictly for their business, I refuse to give them access to my data. I know I can't win against a big corporation, but I can at least keep them from winning everything. It makes me feel a little better, even if it's not especially rational.

You Put Your Right Foot In, You Put Your Right Foor Out

2008-07-21T09:14:00.006-05:00

It will be two weeks tomorrow that my right foot started hurting. I didn't bump it, nothing bit me, it just started hurting. Three days later it swelled up and turned red and hot. So last Friday, after ten days of limping and a week of swelling, I broke down and did the thing I most hate to do: I went to the doctor.

My difficulties with doctors started when I was 3 and was bitten on the nose by a dog. Everyone panicked, and I ended up getting rabies shots, back when they were really painful, given in the stomach and the back with needles long enough to fence with. I decided at that time that I did not like doctors (dogs, however, were still fine; I knew which one of those two had actually hurt me.) But over the years, except for OB-GYN and pediatricians, I have found doctors to be basically useless, uninterested in their patients, and totally unable to listen. I have found that I can take care of almost everything I need with a chiropractor, a dermatologist, a dentist and an eye doctor.

Unfortunately, the chiropractor could not fix the swollen foot. I had already checked the internet and discovered that two swollen feet could mean congestive heart failure, and one swollen leg could mean deep vein thrombosis (or was it phlebitis?), but one swollen foot could only come from some kind of injury. But I didn't have an injury. And I was getting worried.

Well, I still don't know why my foot is swollen. However, my blood pressure was so high that I did something I swore I would never do: I accepted medication for it. It has been high for several years and creeping up. But remember I said I hate going to the doctor. There is a term, "white coat anxiety", for people like me whose blood pressure shoots up in the doctor's office. In my case, it isn't anxiety so much as anger. When I go to the chiropractor, the eye doctor or even the dermatologist, they are friendly and treat me like a person. When I go to an M.D.'s office, I suddenly become a cross between a small, not bright child and a number. By the time they put the blood pressure cuff on me, after making me wait a long time, then asking a series of repetitive questions ("Can't you just read what I wrote on that piece of paper in your hand?"), I am so angry it's a wonder the machine doesn't explode. Then, seeing how high my blood pressure is, the doctor only wants to talk about putting me on drugs. This makes me even madder, since there is never a discussion of my lifestyle, of changes I might make, even of monitoring my b.p. at home to get the real picture. So instead of the pressure going down after a few minutes, it keeps going up as long as I am in the doctor's office.

But this time it was so high it scared even me. I am not afraid of a nice swift heart attack that would kill me, but I am deathly afraid of a stroke that would rob me of speech or movement. So I accepted the prescription. So far, it's brought my blood pressure back down to where it's been for the last few years -- high but not scary. I suspect that happened as soon as I got out of the doctor's office.

Two days later now ... I was interrupted by the arrival of my new computer. Some of the issues I had with it certainly challenged my new blood pressure machine! But overall the pressure is coming down and I see a difference in the amount of puffiness in my face and arms. Unfortunately, my foot is still swollen and painful, but maybe the de-swelling is working its way down my body? I'll let you know if it "de-swells" my stomach, butt and thighs. Now that would make it all worthwhile.

Saturday Photo Hunt: Support

2008-07-12T07:56:00.002-05:00

If you are a masked booby, you have to support your mate in many ways.

This picture brings back wonderful memories of watching the entire courtship, which lasted about 10 minutes -- longer than some celebrity courtships. When the male jumped off, he threw back his head and whistled something that sounded like "Woo-hoooo!" If he had had a fist, he would have been pumping it. Then she got very busy gathering sticks and stones and arranging them into a nest and he --- well, he went to sleep. Personally, I did not support his behavior.

And Death Shall Have No Dominion

2008-07-10T09:15:00.003-05:00

I am very moved by the death of Ally's father. In the years that I have been reading her blog, I have grown so fond of Pa, as she always called him -- a gentle, dependable soul, just anti-establishment enough, and with a wry sense of humor. I will always cherish the memory of one occasion when Pa did not want to meet with some relatives of Ally's husband because he had already met them once; why would he want to meet them again? I believe that will make me smile for the rest of my life.

I have learned through my own experience that death is not the final slamming of an impenetrable door. My own father died 25 years ago, and he has spoken to me twice since then. I need to give a little background for the first one -- the Professor was a good friend of my brother's when we were kids, and he spent a lot of time at our house. My father was very fond of him and took him hunting a few times. Of course, the Professor and I went our separate ways (after being each other's first boyfriend/girlfriend) and got back together something like 27 years later. At that time, because I was being seriously harrassed by an ex-husband (and there were no anti-stalking laws) I slept with a 12-gauge shotgun under my bed. The Professor saw it there and got such a nostalgic look on his face, as he had used that very gun. After he had gone back to Houston (I lived in Dallas at the time), my father pretty much chewed me out: "Why didn't you give him the gun, Gooney Head? [his name for me when I had displeased him]. I want him to have it." The words were in my head when I woke up; it was very much as though I had just received a phone call, or listened to a message on an answering machine. They were just there, in his voice.

The next time my father spoke to me, I was driving back from Houston and the bottom of the sky dropped out. The rain was blinding; I literally could not see the road. To my amazement, I shrieked "Daddy!" and immediately I heard him say "I'm right here, Princess. I won't let anything happen to you." And I knew I was okay.

I also heard from a deceased good friend, again with the words in my mind when I woke up, as though she had called me. Her son was drinking way too much and she said "Please go talk to him. I can't make him hear me. You have to make him stop drinking." I think maybe he was hearing her more than she knew, because when I told him that this would sound crazy but his mother sent me, he merely nodded. Unfortunately, even double teaming him, we only slowed him a little, but we couldn't make him stop completely.

I may sound as though I've gone off the deep end and am making stuff up, but all I can tell you is that, if so, my imagination sure works a lot faster than my brain does. What I honestly believe is that those who have loved us are still watching over us -- not hovering, not intruding, just nearby. They are ready to protect us if we need it, but they also (and more often, in my case) remind us that we can be kinder, braver, more generous, and just generally a better person.

If I could sit and have a cup of tea with Ally and give her a real, as opposed to a cyber hug, I would tell her all this. I can't explain it, but I have always felt such a connection to Pa, and I just know in my soul that he is going to continue to watch over his family.

Pot Pourri

2008-06-25T19:32:00.003-05:00

I have had a white wicker armoire for several years. It has five drawers down the left side, one large drawer across the bottom, and a large shelved area behind the mirror. The drawers glide more smoothly than any I've ever encountered. The armoire holds an amazing amount of stuff. Most of all, I have a thing for white wicker and it just melts me to look at it. But the new bedroom furniture is dark wood and the armoire did not go. It was relegated to the closet (remember, my closet used to be a small room.) The closet door opened into the armoire and the whole setup was very unsatisfactory. So I was shopping for something that would meet my needs that also melted my heart. Fortunately, I ran into a sympathetic saleswoman who listened to my story and said "Why don't you spray paint the armoire?" Forehead slapping moment. It had never entered my head that I could paint the thing.

The armoire is now dark brown. It still has the best drawers ever and holds lots of stuff. It isn't ugly, it just isn't beautiful anymore. But it does go with the rest of the furniture, and painting it saved me a LOT of money, compared to having to buy a new dresser.

I've been doing a lot of framing and hanging of pictures. Next up is getting the built-in aquarium actually built in. I've had the guy out to measure; he gave me a bid, but he didn't grasp what I wanted. I think he understands now and is supposed to give me another bid. I think I am afraid to see the next one.

There are still a few things left undone or that need to be redone from the remodeling -- a couple of holes in the sheetrock where they got access to the bathtub plumbing, a yellow stain that I think is grease which has appeared on the kitchen ceiling since they supposedly routed the stove vent to the outside. The builder is always nice, always sincere, always apologetic, but nothing ever happens. So Monday morning I took pictures of the problems and drove down to their office, where I found the builder's wife. I told her that I'm so happy with my house that I plan to have an open house for the whole neighborhood, but I really don't want people seeing holes in the walls and grease stains and thinking that is the quality of their work. I got one visit and three phone calls that afternoon --- but still no work. Once the aquarium is done, I will be ready to have my open house, and if the builder's reputation gets damaged in the process, it's not my fault.

I am so tired of chasing people to do what they are supposed to do. It's not just the builder, it's some stuff with my company, it's stuff with my customers. One guy called me last week and asked if I would fill out data sheets for him, something normally done by engineering but I knew they wouldn't touch it until it became an order and he said they wouldn't place the order until they had the data sheets. So I said fine, I'll do it for you, send it over right now. That was Thursday afternoon. I called and I emailed on Friday and on Tuesday, reminding him to send me the information. This morning I had to leave very early and didn't get home until after 6:00. When I turned on my computer, there was the information, along with a note that he "had" to have the data sheets back today.

The best advice I heard today was this: instead of being frustrated by airport security lines, just be grateful that the Shoe Bomber didn't try to light his underwear!

Catching Up

2008-06-09T16:51:00.007-05:00

I have been a bad blogger, but there's been so much going on. We did our annual trek to Indiannapolis for the Indy 500. When the Professor had his plane, we could fly up, see the race, and come back the same night if we felt like it. Now he leaves a couple of days before the race and drives his Vette to Louisville, getting there just in time to pick me up at the airport. I have more sense than to spend two days cramped in a sports car, thank you.

The race was great, except for the idiot that ran into Danica Patrick; we ate at our favorite restaurant in Indiannapolis; and Monday morning we had breakfast in Louisville with Present Storm's cousin and family. They have a son confined to a wheelchair by cerebral palsy, but with a smile that could light up a city, and a zest for life that makes everyone who meets him feel good. Last year the Professor gave him a ride in the Corvette and this year the kid was asking for his ride almost from the moment we sat down. He would obviously be a skate boarding, roller coaster riding daredevil if he could, and this ride is a really big deal to him.

Last week I worked the Wind Power Show. 12,000 people came to it. The thing was huge! I guess everyone is hoping we can get so much electricity from wind that we can stop burning gas, but they only produce about 30% of the time and it's still a pretty expensive way to make electricity. You'd think that since wind is free, it would be cheaper, but the generators are small so it takes more of them and that makes the cost much more than one huge generator. But they gave away the coolest stuff at this show, including a personal fan that spells out messages in blue LED lights and a yard fan that lights up around the edges when the wind blows. The Professor and I were out playing with it in the dark, but we decided our neighbors probably wouldn't appreciate it.

Prof's daughter and family are moving to Connecticut so we had a long-planned meal at Brennan's kitchen table. We had to settle for lunch, which is only 5 courses instead of 7, but the wine flows just as freely. One of Prof's grandsons wants to be a chef, and the other really, really likes to cook, so they were ... ummm ... eating it up.

At the table. The blonde in the middle picture on the right looked familiar. It drove us crazy. I think I've finally figured out that she plays the ex-mistress on Brothers & Sisters. What, you want her name, too?
This was a refrigerator inside the big walk-in cooler. The older one, "A", is a vegetarian and couldn't handle the meat smell, but "B" poked into every nook and cranny. Yes, fortunately, B is the one planning to be a chef.

Preparing Brennan's signature dish, Bananas Foster. I hope someone ate it. As for me, even if you soak bananas in rum and set them on fire, I still can't stand their taste.The waiter brought out six different desserts, supposedly so we would each take a bite and pass it around the table. No doubt this works with most groups, but everyone fell in love with exactly what they had and none of us would share. I seem to recall the Professor hunching over his dessert like a hungry animal hunches over his food. But, you know, we'd had a glass of champagne to start, and a different wine with every course, and they never let the glass get empty, so my memory may be just a little fizzy, um, I mean fuzzy.

Throwing It Open To A Vote

2008-05-23T11:40:00.002-05:00

I've mentioned here before that I won an award last year from my company, and that the important, tangible symbol of that award is a ring. A big, heavy ring. Like the kind you get when you graduate. It's attractive in a masculine sort of way and I would wear it if I could, but the problem is that I can't. For some reason my fingers shrink and swell several times during the course of a day, and the ring will be almost-falling-off-my-finger-loose one minute, and less than an hour later so tight that it puts a ridge of skin between the top of the ring and the knuckle.

Several months before they gave me this award, I was asked by my boss what size ring I wore. I thought he was just playing with my head but I answered him honestly "I can't wear rings." So when they gave me the ring, they had guessed at the size and it fits my little finger. (I am just short and chubby everywhere.) The big boss told me to resize it and put it on my expense report and I made some joke that I liked it on my little finger because if the customer didn't give me an order, I could backhand him. But I did wear it on my little finger as often as I could. During the winter, I could actually go several hours before my finger would start throbbing, but as our temperatures have started to climb, the length of time I could keep the ring on my finger has gotten shorter and shorter.

A few weeks ago we were at a big trade show. The big boss was there and he noticed that I was not wearing the ring. He made a pointed remark about getting it re-sized, and I could see he felt hurt and insulted, or, as the Professor puts it, he was thinking that he had given me a gift and that obligated me to wear it.

I don't really want to insult the big boss, so I doubled down on my thinking about how I could wear this thing without injuring myself. Then I realized that if they cut the back and flattened out the front part, it would make a lovely necklace. So I went to several jewelers to get an estimate. Just one problem: the ring is so thick and heavy that they cannot flatten it out. They can reset the stone into a necklace, but then I lose the company logo, the engraving, etc.

So here are my choices:

Wear it as a ring when I can, for as long as I can.

Send it back to be made into a necklace and lose the sentimental part.

Put the whole ring on a chain around my neck, which means I am "going steady" with my company.

None of these is very appealing to me and I'm having a hard time choosing between bad options. So I have decided to throw this open to a vote. I feel like I'm trying to walk through a mine field with clown shoes on; perhaps someone not emotionally involved can steer me in the right direction.

I Have Been Selected!

2008-04-30T04:49:00.002-05:00

I received a letter from Cambridge Who's Who which said I am being considered for inclusion in the newest volume. Thought One was that this is a scam. But look, it says right here, "there is no cost to be included". If they're not trying to get money out of you, it must be on the level, right? I am getting to be pretty well known in my field; obviously, someone heard of me / nominated me / wrote my name on a bathroom wall.

I've been busy, so I let the application form sit for awhile. But I just now googled it, and oh my! yes, it is a scam. Apparently they don't charge you for inclusion in the data base; they just charge you for access to it, to the tune of $1000. I can feed my ego for a lot less than that!

I told this story at a meeting last night and I think it's worth repeating here. A while back, I had gone to see someone at an engineering firm, at one of several buildings they have scattered around town. After I met with the man I had gone to see, I asked the receptionist to call another man who I thought worked in the same building. She did not recognize the name and asked me to describe him. "Oh, you'd remember him" I said, "he's young and very good-looking..."

The receptionist interrupted me in her best and-that's-final tone: "There are NO good-looking men in this building!"

Life Must Go On -- I Forget Just Why

2008-04-17T02:23:00.002-05:00

That is a line from a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay and it pretty much sums up how I feel right now. I guess it's silly to mourn a cat this much, but I do.

I'm coping in the Great American Way: I'm shopping. I have been on the internet buying a hand-tied canopy for my new 4-poster bed, a tablecloth big enough for my new dining table, and a bunch of little stuff I don't need but it looked so good in the catalog. This is all prelude to the shopping I really need to do, but dread -- window coverings. I did hang some drapes in the bedroom, but as for the rest of the house, I am flashing the neighbors. I have always planned to put plantation shutters across the front of the house, but then I saw the prices. OMG!!!

I should probably explain that both my mother's parents were born in Switzerland, which makes her full-blooded Swiss and consequently makes me half-Swiss. From what I've seen, the Swiss make the Scotch look like spendthrifts. And I definitely got the stretch-a-penny-till-it-screams gene. I can't count the number of times I've been in a store and found something I really wanted, but somehow the thought of actually handing over money for it was too much, and I've left empty-handed. That's where I am with the shutters. I want them, I need them, I know I'll love them (sounds like an Elvis song, doesn't it?), but working up the energy to spend the money is taking more time than I anticipated.

To really complicate things, I have incredibly expensive taste (which I cannot afford to indulge.) When I was looking at the tablecloth websites, I came across one with the most beautiful linens I have ever seen. You know that little moment of recognition, of "that's it!", when you see the perfect thing. I had it. I drilled down to the more information screen. The inexpensive tablecloths were $400; the one I liked best did not even have a price listed, and we all know what it means if you have to ask the price. Even if I could afford it, I would struggle with the ethics of spending that kind of money on a tablecloth, and then I would have to consider my family, several of whom seem to have taken after me in the clumsy department. I found another website with amazingly low prices and ordered one of their tablecloths. It did not make my heart sing but it will protect the table from scratches, and that actually is the point.

But I did spend some money that did some good. I send additional birthday and Christmas money to the little girl I sponsor in Kenya, and I just got a letter from her mother saying that she used some of it to buy a goat, then a hen. The goat had kids, the hen had chicks. They have milk, they have eggs, they will soon have meat and something to sell. You have to be careful, when their annual income is so low, not to change their economic status with your gifts, so I think I give M'Wende $20 at Christmas and $15 for her birthday. Now that is more bang for the buck.

I just cheered myself up enormously. Thanks for listening.

In Memoriam

2008-04-14T11:46:00.003-05:00

This morning, I had to have my cat Rush put to sleep. My heart is broken.

I've written about him before -- born in my bedroom, named for that Rush because as a kitten he was really loud, pretty obnoxious, and when he nursed he always rooted to the right. He was Guppyman's cat, and the center of his universe, for a long time. When Guppy discovered that Stormii and the Little Angel were allergic to cats, Rush came back to me.

Rush had been an inside cat through all his years with Guppy, but we live in a neighborhood with almost no traffic, so I introduced him to the great outdoors. The first time he went outside, it was a 30-minute, belly-to-the-ground trip of about 20 feet, but within a week he was going out and loving it. He climbed trees and chased bugs and cooled off in the shade. I'm not sure that he ever left the yard, but you could see that to him, it was a jungle and he was the fierce feline.

He was one of those easy-going, friendly cats who never met a stranger. All the construction workmen were enchanted by him because he would hang out with them and watch their every move. He also would jump up on their sawhorses and ladders the instant they were free. I guess they could have been annoyed by that, but they seemed to find it charming.

He was my baby. He always loved a certain perfume of mine -- I'm convinced it took him back to when he was a kitten -- and he was always cuddly. He was also active and fun to watch. On Easter, he jumped into an empty chair at the dining table and sat there looking just like a toddler who is sitting at the adult table for the first time. He kept his paws off the table, but he looked around with a wow-look-at-me! expression. That wasn't just my flight of fancy; everyone at the table saw the same thing. It seems like everyone who ever met him commented on what a great cat he was.

He had been peeing a lot, but he has always struggled with urinary tract infections, and I thought that was a good thing. His appetite has been great, he's been active and alert. Friday night he was not hungry, not even when I put down wet cat food. Saturday morning he was lathargic and I took him to the vet. She told me he had diabetes. I had no idea a cat could even get diabetes. She wanted to put him down right then, since he was about a month shy of turning 15, but I couldn't do it. I hadn't had any time to prepare myself for a fatal illness. So I took him to the emergency clinic for the weekend. The vet there called me Sunday morning and said that Rush had not needed another shot of insulin since he got there the day before, and it looked like he was one of those cats whose pancreas started working again. I was so excited. But late that evening when I called to check on him, they said they had to give him more insulin shots.

I went this morning to transfer Rush from the emergency to the regular vet. I had a long talk with the vet who treated him over the weekend. He told me that if we could get him stabilized and on two insulin shots a day (and I would have had to hire someone to do those when I was traveling), there was still no guarantee that his pancreas wouldn't suddenly make its own insulin, and I would put him in a coma with the next shot. I was out about $2000 so far, and I realized that I could spend $10 or $20,000 and still not be sure that he would be okay. And most of all, he would have no quality of life. He had such a good life and he spread so much joy. The least I could do for him was spare him suffering and give him a peaceful death.

We are down to one cat, his mama, Chula. She is looking for Rush. The house is so quiet without him. Chula keeps demanding that I pick her up and cuddle her. I think we are crying together.

The Generations Come Together, Then Diverge

2008-04-10T08:01:00.003-05:00

Last night I took Dolphin and her family to dinner to celebrate her birthday. SIL had read somewhere that "Happy Birthday" is the most-often sung song in the US, and "The Star Spangled Banner" is second. We all agreed that no one can actually sing the national anthem. SIL said it was an old drinking tune, and meant to be sung by a large group of people; presumably, some could hit the high notes, and some could hit the low. This triggered a dim memory in me, and I said tentatively "There used to be a pizza parlor..."

"Shakey's Pizza!" Dolphin burst in. Obviously she had gone to the same memory; her eyes were shining and you could see the happy feelings written all over her face.

"It was like group karaoke" I said, "with a big screen..."

"And you followed the bouncing ball. They had root beer in little mugs, and the very best part of all was that they had a window where you could watch the guys make the pizza and throw the dough in the air. There was a step so the little kids could see it, too. You know" Dolphin said "that may be my earliest childhood memory. I don't think Guppyman was even born then."

Her memories are far more crystal clear than mine, but I think she's right on every bit of it.

The conversation drifted back to the national anthem. I said I've always thought "America the Beautiful" should be our anthem because it's a lovely melody and celebrates the country, while "God Bless America", which seems to be most people's choice, is such a martial tune. Then Dolphin said "You're just an aging hippie. You want to tell everyone 'Let's take off our shoes, and hold hands, and run through this field of wildflowers'." She didn't sound approving. Too bad, because it sounded wonderful to me.

It's time to stop writing now. I have to go find my love beads, my peace symbol button and my "Make love, not war" bumper sticker. Later, dudes.

Things I Saw in the Galapagos

2008-03-25T14:44:00.009-05:00

Aw-w-w-w-w...

Sea lions are everywhere!

We frequently had to step over them.

For some reason, I'm craving turtle soup. Okay, that wasn't nice. The Galapagos tortoises were almost wiped out by sailors, who took them for fresh meat. A G.T. can live for a year with no water and no food, a pretty good deal in the days of no refrigeration.
Blue-footed booby with chick and egg.A face only a mother could love -- marine iguanas. Fur seals. Note how the face looks more like a bear than a dog. They are also smaller and lighter in color than a sea lion. I'll post some more pictures later. Gotta get some work done now.

Ships and Birds and Tortoises

2008-03-18T09:08:00.004-05:00

I'm ba-a-a-ack! We had a wonderful time in the Galapagos Islands, although I seem to have left half my brain behind. I have done the following just this morning:

--- Sent an inquiry to someone at the factory who quit the company several months ago.

--- Could not remember my sign-in name for blogger; finally had to pretend that I was going to comment on someone's blog so it would tell me what my name is.

We were on a boat called the Evolution. It had 15 cabins, a lounge, a nice-sized dining room, an outdoor bar, a hot tub and various decks and alleys. The lounge probably took up half the upper deck, but it was only used for the nightly briefings. When we weren't hiking or snorkeling, we were in the dining room, in the bar, or on the deck looking at the stars. On the clear nights, the view was absolutely incredible. We were in the middle of nowhere, literally, with no lights to spoil the view. The milky way is so visible, and it turns out there is something called zodiacal light, which is a triangle of light that ... um, points to something in the zodiac ... the Professor explainted this to me in great detail, but all I remember is being amazed that there really was a triangle of light in the sky. (Well, I told you we were spending a lot of time in the bar!)

I am an early riser no matter where I am or what I am doing, so I saw the sun rise every morning. I also watched them raise the anchor, a sound which functioned as an unpleasant alarm clock for those still asleep, but which I found fascinating. The food was very good; in fact, we asked for several recipes. Twice a day we would load onto two rubber rafts, which they called pangas, and head to an island where we would either hike or snorkel along the coast. Oddly, the best snorkeling was in the rain, a trip I almost didn't make until I realized that it made no sense to worry about getting wet while I was in the water. There were huge schools of gorgeous tropical fish; there were starfish and sting rays and manta rays and eagle rays; there were sea lions and penguins swimming under and around us. One guy who was in incredible shape jumped out of the panga one day and caught up to a pod of dolphins and swam with them. He said one dolphin came up from behind him, looked him in the eye, and clicked at him. We are pretty sure the dolphin was saying "Nice job, human."

The animals are totally unafraid of people. Some of the beaches are full of sea lions, some of marine iguanas. And then there are the boobies -- blue-footed, red-footed, masked. They really do have a mating dance, which in the case of the masked boobies consisted of alternately throwing their heads in the air and nuzzling each other. The pace increases, then they start cooing along with the head movements. It gets faster and faster; then he jumps on her back. You can tell when things are successful because he starts flapping his wings. We apparently witnessed a young male boobie getting some for the first time in his life because after he hopped off he threw his head in the air and let out a noise that sounded exactly like "Woo-hoo!" I didn't see that behavior from any other male, and believe me, I saw enough boobie sex to last a lifetime.

Fortunately, I didn't have to get involved with Lonesome George, the tortoise. Biologists were trying to mate him, but none of the females they brought in interested him. They were very concerned, so in order to capture his sperm they hired a young grad student to manually ... um, stimulate him. Apparently George was very picky and they went through several young women before they found one who was successful. No matter how bad my days might get from now on, I can always comfort myself with the knowledge that at least I'm doing better than those poor grad students!

I have to quit for now, but I promise pictures soon.

Gr-r-r-r-r-r

2008-02-25T05:34:00.003-06:00

You know those days when everyone in the world is an idiot? And eventually you figure out that it's really unlikely (not saying impossible) that you are the one and only sane and intelligent human being on the planet?

Well, I've been having one of those days for three days now, and I still haven't reached the point of adjusting my attitude.

1. The Professor is off playing with penguins in Antarctica while I am stuck here doing all the work.

2. Guppyman needs to take care of things.

3. My mother seems to think I should feel sorry for my brother who had to shovel snow from his Colorado vacation home driveway, instead of being here to celebrate her 88th birthday.

4. At 7:30 Friday morning, the front door opened and several workmen came in. I had had no warning at all that there would be any work done. They usually don't work Fridays and they never show up before 8:30. Fortunately, I had clothes on -- wet hair, no makeup, but I was covered.

5. The electrician moved the light switch from behind the bedroom door to the other side, where I can actually get to it. He was also supposed to turn a socket around to the other wall. He didn't. It was on the list of things to do that I had posted right where they were working.

6. Oh. Someone evidently threw the list away.

7. I bought a new bedspread-plus-everything-you-need-in-your-bedroom-except-bunny-slippers on Saturday, the last day of the sale. I had been to visit this spread several times, testing my reaction over time, making sure I didn't see something else I liked better. (I put more thought into the bedspread than I did into my first marriage.) On Saturday, I was told that customer pick-up was running an hour or more. I did not have time to wait, so I dragged this 2' x 2' x 2' bag across the store, onto the elevator, across the store again, out into the parking lot, and up and down two aisles until I finally found my car.

8. I had just come from the chiropractor, who had my neck feeling pretty good. Seems I found the perfect antidote.

9. Ralph Nader is running again, the egotistical idiot. John Edwards helped direct and change the focus of the Democratic campaign by running in the primaries. I guess Nader could not do the same because that would have been too much competition for the spotlight.

10. I think this one bothers me the most: otherwise intelligent people seem to be totally unable to look beyond their personal lives to a principle. I have had two people tell me in the last week that the government can listen in on their phone calls all it wants, as they have nothing to hide. It simply astonishes me how people will hand over their rights because something has scared them and they think the government will keep them safe. You don't have to read much history to see where that leads.

11. Not to mention the logic that says, there are people who want to conquer us, who want to take our freedoms away, so let's fight them by voluntarily giving up our freedoms. Huh????

12. It is a free country, and we all have the right to believe what we want. But what do you do when someone else's beliefs allow conditions that violate the US Constitution? When they start giving up their rights, they give up mine, too. Oh dear, I think I still feel like one of the very few sane and intelligent people on earth.

Careless of Me

2008-02-13T04:47:00.003-06:00

In the last few months I have lost 2 belts, 2 bras and a pair of shoes. My best guess is that they all got left in hotel rooms. If I keep up this traveling, I will have no clothes at all.

My neck has been hurting me so much that I have almost been in tears. It's a combination of sleeping on the couch and a whole lot of stress. On Monday I had a 1-1/2 hour massage, then went to the chiropractor to get my *ear* adjusted. Who knew?! But it didn't cure the problem. Yesterday I was at a trade show / seminar and during one of the long breaks a very sweet friend of mine took me out to his truck, laid the passenger seat down, put a pillow under my head, and promised to come wake me when it was time. And I did go to sleep. He told me later that I looked like I was about to collapse. And here I thought I was fooling everyone.

I left Monday night just before Prof got home from a trip to ... um, I think Sri Lanka. He left yesterday for -- Antartica, maybe? -- just before I got back home. It always seems to work out that way. But he did get some reservations made for a trip for both of us to the Galapogos in early March. At the moment, that feels like one more stressful thing, but I know I'm going to love it. I just have to stock up on lots of seasickness things. Hmmm, on vacation, won't need belts, won't need bras, won't need shoes ... yep, I'm good to go.

Tales of a Road Warrior

2008-01-30T18:03:00.000-06:00

Nothing new or exciting in my life. I left Sunday afternoon to drive halfway to New Orleans, rather than spend my entire Sunday driving, or leaving in the small hours Monday morning and being totally frazzled when I did my presentation at noon. I am actually staying in a little town just outside New Orleans, called La Place. I feel safer in small towns than in big cities.

It happens to be Mardi Gras, and I was seriously thinking about going downtown one night to catch a parade (at my age, you only need to show a little collarbone to get beads.) But then I heard the story about the female cop trying to arrest someone. The police are still traveling alone in their patrol cars. She wrestled with the man for seven minutes, and no backup ever arrived. He finally got her gun and shot her 10 times. I decided that if the cops aren't safe in New Orleans, I'm not going to risk it. So I'm cleaning out my (always over limit) mailbox, working on my presentation for tomorrow, watching tv and re-reading a book I grabbed on my way out of the house. I don't know if I can stand much more of this excitement!

After I made my calls today I stopped at my favorite outlet center in Gonzales LA. They are re-doing it, making it more attractive and adding more stores. Sadly, the little bookstore I always frequented is gone, but on the plus side they have added an Ann Taylor and a Naturalizer outlet. Ann Taylor had a petite section and Naturalizer had some size 5 shoes, so I am a happy shopper. Apparently Houston is the home of big-footed people, because the only shoe store left that carries size 5 is Payless -- great on the budget, but unfortunately full of plastic shoes and not much variety. Other than being able to stand up in an airplane without hitting my head on the overhead compartments, there are NO advantages to being short. However, if Prince Charming ever comes looking for the woman with the small feet ... well, here I am.

I took a customer to dinner last night. I had called him last week to ask him to lunch, which I really felt I owed him because our factory did terrible things with two of his orders. (Not just late, they literally threw some of his stuff away, then had to make new ones to replace them.) Anyway, he said he couldn't make lunch because he was going to be in classes all week and as I started to tell him I'd catch him next trip, he said "But how about dinner?" So we agreed on where and when to meet. Tuesday night he called me, sounding slightly inebriated, and confirmed our plans, ending with "I'm really looking forward to it!" This had me a little on edge, but I didn't need to worry. He is such a nice guy that when he was telling me about taking his daughter to college 600 miles away, and how hard it was to drive away and leave her there, he teared up. So I had a very enjoyable evening and I think I smoothed over the factory's incredible stupidity and kept the customer. And, yes, I get paid to have fancy meals -- but I'd sure rather be eating at home right now.

It's Really Not Their Fault

2008-01-24T17:02:00.001-06:00

Eight months ago when the construction started, we moved the cats' litter box from the back door hall to the other end of the house. We did this because the back hall was housing an air compressor and what seemed like several hundred workmen. The cats had no trouble adjusting to that move, as they were avoiding the noise and confusion and were huddling in terror, wishing everyone would go away.

As time went on and things moved around, we moved the litter box into the bathrooom, then into the bedroom hall. This was a very good arrangement, since it is currently a concrete floor and studs instead of walls. But on Tuesday, workers showed up to tear out one short wall and frame a couple of doors in the bedroom end of the house. They were coming through the back door, so that hall was not a viable location for the litter box. My only choice was the breakfast area of the kitchen, clear at the other end of the house.

Today I came home, briefcase in one hand, mail in the other, and sauntered down the bedroom hall to my office. I guess I should mention that when I'm walking I never look down (which is probably why I stumble a lot.) Okay, you know what's coming, don't you? Suddenly I slipped. I smeared. I smelled it at the same instant. And do you know what I did? I left my shoes in the hall, went into my office and shut the door. There are some things you just can't deal with until you've had time to prepare yourself.

I just had a wild thought. The Professor is on a trip and I will be out of town on a business trip all next week. I wonder if the cats will leave a little present for the workers, too?

This and That

2008-01-22T03:48:00.000-06:00

I am still here, just busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest.

The first full week of January I had to go to the most boring week of every year, a sales meeting of the larger group I work for, which does not touch on anything I sell. I wasn't even notified that I had to be in a little town just outside Cincinnati until 11/30 -- not exactly the best time for me, with all the construction and Christmas going on. So by the time I found that email again and tried to make plane reservations, I discovered that it would cost over $1200 to fly to Cincy, but only $400 to fly to Louisville KY and drive the rest of the way. So that's what I did -- no problem, a rather pleasant drive and one more car to haul people around during the week. But driving back to the airport, having allowed 2-1/2 hours to make a 1-1/4 hour drive, I found myself first in a downpour, then in two massive traffic jams (at 2:30 in the afternoon!) due to wrecks. For the first time ever, I turned the car in without filling the gas tank -- in fact, I called my boss as I was inching through the traffic to the airport and told him I know it's against company policy but it was going to be cheaper to pay for half a tank of gas than for a hotel room when I missed my plane. As it turned out, if the plane hadn't been delayed, I would have missed it, anyway. But I don't check luggage, I had already printed my boarding pass, so I pretty much walked to the gate and got in line to board. It used to be so much fun to fly, but now it is just one big hassle.

Nothing has been done on my house since December 22nd, when they were putting the quarter-round down and the second coat of paint in the dining room as the table was being delivered. After giving them a couple of weeks to remember that the job isn't done, we contacted the builder -- Prof politely asked them to come by, I nagged -- and got the builder and his son-in-law out here to discuss what is left. I noticed that neither one of them wrote a single thing down. So I am making copies of the floor plan and noting work to be done, as well as repairs to work they did incorrectly the first time (for example, they apparently used the wrong kind of screws in the bookcases, because they will not screw all the way in and we cannot get the shelves past them). I have a list for each craft -- framers, carpenters, painters, HVAC -- and am numbering the floor plan to match the lists. I do not understand why the builder can't get himself at least this organized. People laugh when I tell them that we are in the 8th month of our 3-month remodeling project, though I fail to see the humor. Mainly, I just want a good night's sleep on a real mattress, which isn't going to happen until they finish the back end of the house (the end they haven't started on yet). 8 months is a very long time to spend sleeping on couches and in an occasional hotel room.

And now my extremely annoying conscience is reminding me that most of the world would be thrilled to sleep on couches, and is totally ruining my rant. My mother always told me I had a Presbyterian conscience -- it doesn't stop you from doing anything, it just keeps you from enjoying it.

At Last!

2008-01-05T07:23:00.001-06:00

JULY

OCTOBER

TA - DAAAA!

I love, love, love my walk-in pantry! I've had to watch my pennies carefully most of my life, but I've never actually been hungry, so I'm not sure why a full pantry has always been such a comfort to me -- but it is.

We aren't completely moved in to the kitchen. My table, hutch, and baker's rack are still in storage, and they are the barrier between me and my boxes labeled "Kitchen". So I still don't have a toaster or a pot big enough to cook spaghetti in or my everyday silverware, but we're managing. I suspect a whole lot of what's boxed up will go directly to charity. If I haven't missed it in seven months, I don't think I really need it.

I know I've been dreadful about posting, but December was ... well, beyond description. I think I can actually start posting again. I promise more pictures of the progress, maybe even a little news here and there.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and I wish you all the happiest of New Year's.

It Will Be Down to the Wire

2007-12-06T16:49:00.000-06:00

Carpenters: finished.

Painters: caulking. Primer tomorrow. Probably more primer Monday. Paint Tuesday and Wednesday, maybe Thursday. Maybe even Friday.

Floor: If we can get on the schedule, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of the following week.

If you are counting, you have noticed that this brings us to within less than a week before Christmas. And this is if everybody shows up when they say they will, works like a pack of beavers, and doesn't run into unforeseen problems.

IF it gets done in time:
Can they deliver my furniture before Christmas? Can I hang the stockings? Will there be any Christmas trees left on the lots? Can I get to the Christmas decorations, which are at the very back of the storage unit? Stay tuned for answers.

But everyone decided it would be good for their health if they install the ovens tomorrow or Saturday and let me spend the weekend baking. My daughters have a couple of my recipes and if I can't find my pans easily, I will buy more. I can probably adapt to everything else, but it will not be Christmas without thumbprints and candy cane cookies and pumpkin bread. On Monday morning, the ovens will get covered up with paper and stay that way until the kitchen is completely painted, so I will have a real baking marathon to do. And I can't wait!

Christmas shopping has also been problematic. My storage place right now is my car trunk, and it's getting a little full. I bought a Wii for myself, but had nowhere to hook it up, so Guppy very sweetly offered to store it, and test it, for me. Is he a good son or what! Apparently he is putting it through some very thorough nightly testing.

Everything is looking wonderful. My mantle is so pretty, I just stand and stare at it with a goofy look on my face. I'll post some pictures after the painting is done. I haven't taken any pictures in a long time. I've just been so frustrated with the delays, and the holidays already here. I really thought that starting this job in June would guarantee that my house would be done before Christmas, especially when the builder told me it would take 90 days. I actually laughed at people who told me it wouldn't be done. I'm older and wiser now.

The Man of my Dreams

2007-11-30T04:50:00.000-06:00

UPDATE: Oh, I am in love, I am, I am. Alfonso not only showed up, he showed up with four other guys who have been working their cute little fannies off all day. They fixed the slanted and the squeaky steps, they trimmed out the post upstairs, they finished the stair railing, they mounted all the drawer fronts in the kitchen, they have the shell of the bookcases up. There are also some painters caulking everything they can find. I had to run to the store to buy 50 -- FIFTY! -- knobs for the doors and drawers, and they are going to drill the holes for them. I would say I don't have enough stuff to fill all these drawers and cabinets, but you know there's that law of physics that says that things always expand to fill the available space. There are a couple of saws on the front porch, so there is not a lot of new dust coming in. I know at this point I am easy to please, and any progress looks like enormous progress, but if they keep this up for a couple of days, we will be ready for paint and floors and my ovens. I haven't been this optomistic for weeks.

Yesterday, after I was done with my sales calls, I impulsively went by the builder's shop to see if the cabinet maker was cutting wood there. We hadn't seen him for over a week, and I was trying to find out if he was working on our job or if the builder had sent him out on a different job while my house languished. I talked to the builder's wife, who told me that the problem was the cabinet maker -- he vanished. However, she said, Alfonso will be finishing up your house. Yeah, right, I thought. But she got someone on the radio who said that he and Alfonso were on their way to my house at that very moment. So I ran home and Alfonso was indeed there, taking measurements, discussing what we wanted, and checking things out.

He said he would be here this morning. He said he will set his saw up on the front porch instead of in the house. He asked if I want adjustable shelves in the bookcases. (I couldn't get the other guy to do adjustable shelves to save my soul.) I think I'm in love.

It's My Birthday and I'll Complain If I Want To

2007-11-29T05:07:00.000-06:00

I hate to be negative all the time, but it's two weeks since my last post and the only thing that has changed in my house is that the carpenter put the steps and part of the railing in. We haven't seen him since last Wednesday -- or anyone else for that matter -- except the painters came sometime yesterday and got their ladders, which they had left here thinking that they would be painting the inside in just a day or two. I feel frustrated and murderous and depressed, all at the same time.

All my furniture is in, but I've had to tell the stores that we're not ready. The sofas and dining room chairs were custom made, which is not a short process, and still they beat the builder. The Professor installed the gas cooktop the other day. He is as sick of waiting around as I am. Now if I could get him to install the ovens so I could bake. I would adapt a lot better to this if I could just get started on my Christmas cookies.

The night before Thanksgiving I went to my DIL's and cooked those few things that I could do without the recipe. On Thanksgiving morning I opened up the paper and was stunned to see all the sale ads. My first thought was, What are these doing here in the morning? -- they don't come until late afternoon. That thought was immediately replaced by the realization that the sales ads have always been in the morning paper, but this was the first time in I-don't-know-how-many-years that I was able to actually open the newspaper in the morning.

The day after Thanksgiving we took the Professor's daughter & family out to lunch. Her sons, A & B, are very smart, especially A who seems to have a brain that functions just like the Professor's. He told me he wants to major in physics in college (Prof has a PhD in physics). What part of physics? I asked. Theoretical. What area? The big questions, like how the world began and how it will end. Like Einstein? Yes, exactly like Einstein. So you aren't going to do research on why electrons can't stop on a dime, but have to skid... No, I am not interested in the details at all. Just don't tell your grandfather that! (The Professor devoted a good part of his career to figuring out strange things about electrons.)

I found the conversation rather amusing, but I also remember being 17 and the innocence-arrogance-idealism combination that convinces them they can solve the world's problems without ever having to dirty their hands with those pedestrian details. Once again I find myself thinking that I have finally figured things out -- what I want to do, the kind of person I want to be, what's really important. Now I'm ready to go back to age, oh maybe 11 or 12, and do it all again the right way!

I Can't Sleep, Anyway

2007-11-15T01:38:00.000-06:00

I am wide awake at 1:30 AM because the upstairs door is banging (no doorknob until the painting is done) and there are NO STAIRS to get up there and tie it shut. Also, my throat feels like someone took a wire brush to it and my head is stopped up, so I may as well take all this misery out on you.

On Monday they bricked around the chimney outside and began laying the hearth inside. That crew actually finished the job Tuesday, came back yesterday and watered the bricks, dismantled the scaffolding, and left. (Either my bricks will grow or it has something to do with the mortar setting properly.)

Also on Monday, the painters were busily painting the outside of the house. I called the builder and asked where my railing was across the front porch, and did he think it should be there before the painters got to the trim? Next thing I knew, the painters were gone (but my railing is there -- and it looks wonderful. It is exactly what I was waiting for. As soon as the trim is painted I'm hanging a white wicker porch swing.) The only people who showed up yesterday were a crew to clean up the yard and driveway -- my driveway is huge without pallets and junk in it! -- and the carpenter. He stayed just long enough to tear the steps off the stairs. Thus the banging door that I can't get to.

Everything now hangs on the carpenter's shoulders. He needs to re-install the steps, build the railing, build a surround for the vent hood in the kitchen, build the mantle and a couple of bookcases around the fireplace, build a hutch and the cabinet for the built-in aquarium, and finish casing the windows. Once he has that done, the painters can do their job, then the appliances can be installed, the floor laid and we will be able to move from the two rooms we've been squeezed into to the finished end of the house. There is not a lot to be done in the other end; it shouldn't take long. When the carpenter is here, he works fast. But then he disappears for days on end. He says, and from what I've seen I believe him, that the builder keeps pulling him off this job and sending him somewhere else.

The builder desperately needs a scheduler. He hired someone, but the guy quit after a month because the builder was still moving crews around irregardless of what the scheduler planned. We are being assured that everything will be done before Christmas. I can't seem to make him understand that "before Christmas" means right after Thanksgiving, not two or three days before Christmas. This is the time of year that I live for and it looks like I won't be able to decorate -- or bake. There are a LOT of people very upset at the prospect of no Christmas cookie platters. People suggest that I use someone else's kitchen, but the problem is that my recipes are in a box somewhere in the storage unit. Visualize the last scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark where they're wheeling the Ark of the Covenant into a spot among the other boxes. Come to think of it, I may find the Ark among my boxes when I finally get to haul them out.

I've already decided not to replace my office carpet until after Christmas and we're seriously considering telling them not to redo the master bath -- the room that really, really, REALLY needs to be redone. We both seem to be at the end of our rope and just want these guys out of here.

I scored four bar stools for $180 total last weekend -- a BOGO 1/2 off. I assembled one stool just to be sure it was right (looks great! very happy with it!) and stuck the other 3 boxes in the storage unit. I also ordered a Wii on line. When the grandkids get too old and too busy to visit all the time, Gramma needs better toys to entice them. Okay, in fairness, Gramma isn't home all that often, but it's such a good excuse. I don't have the thumb agility that the younger generation has, but I figure even I can play a game on Wii.

A Very Long Week

2007-11-10T04:40:00.000-06:00

I had to leave for a sales meeting last Sunday and just got home last night. Meetings are always a mixture of good and bad: it's good to see the other salesmen, but it's bad to be away from customers for so long, especially when you're in a different time zone and the only time you can try to reach them by phone is when they are at lunch.

The hotel was pretty crappy. One guy showed us -- fortunately not until the last morning, when we had all checked out -- a picture of a bedbug that he took with his cell phone. Of course we ate and drank too much, and of all things, I won something called The President's Award, which comes with a ring, a certificate and some cash. This has long been a big deal to the company that bought us 11 years ago, but no one from my particular part of the company has ever won it before. When they gave it to me I was speechless for probably the first time in my life. There are guys who have been there much longer and sold much more, but apparently I represent the new business model. The big boss said that long before they went to the team concept of sales, I was a team player -- in fact, he said I made one guy, now retired, a very wealthy man. It has to do with specifications and territories and is way too complicated to explain.

It doesn't look like they did anything on the house while I was gone. They did finish the stucco, but the carpenter apparently wasn't here at all. A while back they put a door on the guest bath and I was so thrilled that I had privacy again --- but then they pulled the commode so they could tile the floor, and they never put it back. The Professor says the plumbers are supposed to be here today to reinstall the commode, put in the kitchen faucet and hook up the dishwasher. No one has installed the cooktop or the ovens, or the hearth in front of the fireplace, or the new stairs and bannister, or .... well, I could go on and on.

But the good news is that I don't have to go out of town next week as I had planned. I really need a little time to regroup and to start kicking the builder's butt. I have been way too nice and accepted things, but now it looks like they are going to ruin Christmas for me by not being done in time. You do NOT mess with my Christmas. No more patient nice guy ---Dr. Jekyll is about to become Ms. Hyde. I will make his life hell until he gets the full crew back out here and gets the house done. Christmas is my very favorite time of year and I am not letting them take that away from me.

Strapping on my six-guns .... working up to my full bitchiness potential ... stay tuned for the results....

It Was a Treat!

2007-11-01T05:16:00.000-05:00

Even after all these years, the Professor can still surprise me. I had pretty much written off doing anything about Halloween, considering the state of our yard and front porch. About 3:30, Prof started pestering me, that if we hurried we could clean off the porch and get candy for the trick or treaters. Of course, since he has that scowly, grumpy Crankshaft-type personality, he was somehow casting this as something he was doing strictly to humor me.

So I ran to Wal-Mart, which was completely out of Halloween candy (but had a good assortment of Christmas candy), then to Walgreen's where I was able to snag the last couple of bags of chocolate. When I got back, the Professor had not only swept the porch, he had dug out some solar lights and created a path through the lawn to the front door, so there would be no danger of kids tripping over construction debris.

I was charmed by his thoughtfulness so I suggested that I drag Esmeralda, the five foot tall green witch, out of the still-accessible Halloween tote. The Professor loved the idea, and we got a rocking chair out of the garage for Esmeralda to sit in. Rush came outside, took one look, and immediately jumped in Esmeralda's lap. But then some trick or treaters came and Rush tried to follow them down the street, so I had to put him in the house. Chula took over the lap-sitting. She refused to come in last night, and was still in Esmeralda's lap this morning.

We don't have a doorbell hooked up yet, but Prof asked where the creepy music, flashing eyes, "wel-l-l--come" door knocker was and I dug it out of the tote. We only have temporary doors right now, but the Professor attached that door knocker, anyway. Then he ended up sitting in a lawn chair on the porch, occasionally setting off the music and greeting when he thought it would impress / scare one of the trick or treaters.

Isn't it sweet and thoughtful of the Professor to pretend to enjoy Halloween so much, just for my benefit!

Funerals are for the Families

2007-10-30T20:49:00.000-05:00

We buried my uncle at Arlington National Cemetary yesterday with full military honors. He was a veteran of both World War II and Korea. He was a pilot; he built several airplanes; he tried out for the U.S. Olympic fencing team; he was a hypnotist; he was a chiropractor; he was a member of the Confederate Air Force; he held several patents and thought of a lot more inventions that he never got around to patenting. He was a very intelligent, very creative and very charming man. But his legacy was pain and destruction.

Two families, five kids, all of them completely abandoned -- no child support, no phone calls, no birthday cards. We spent the last two days swapping stories, sharing tears and some laughter. As we all weighed in with our memories, some things became more clear. We think we figured out some truths that my uncle tried to hide.

His only daughter was the only child who ever knew her father at all. Although he was gone a lot with the Navy, he did come home occasionally until she was 10, when he left for good. It hurt to watch all the emotions warring within her: pride in his service, sorrow at his death, anger and hurt at the way she was treated, yearning still for what should have been. I know that most of us have some baggage from our childhood, but it seems to me that my cousins got far more than their share.

But here's the part that just fascinated me. It's seemed for a long time that my brother and I must have been raised in parallel universes because we are as different as two people can be. But it turns out that our childhood memories are different, too. Some of that came from different experiences -- for example, he was the only one our grandmother liked, so he did not see her as the mean, selfish woman the rest of us knew -- but it turns out that family members alter the narrative to suit the audience. Something my mother had always told me about my grandfather came as a complete shock to my brother; so much so that he called my mother and asked about it. And she admitted it ... sort of ... in a vague way ... with qualifications ... "well, yes, but ... " I had witnessed, but at age 16 really didn't know how to stop, abominable treatment of one cousin by my grandmother, but he changed the details of the story when he told it to the others so that it was just a pleasant encounter. In fact, I was amazed later in the evening when he admitted to me that his memories of the incident matched mine.

I think I've figured out two things: I don't trust much of what I hear, and always check the facts as best I can. And I overwhelm people with detail when our memories differ -- "you were wearing your Spiderman shirt and we had just rolled down the hill on that big barrel" -- mostly, I realize now, to reassure myself that what I remember is what really happened.

What about your family? Are the stories always the same, or do they change depending on the audience?

Made Me Laugh

2007-10-17T09:18:00.000-05:00

Guy At Trade Show: I sure dread tomorrow.

Mitey Mite: Why?

GATS : I have to go to a donkey barbecue.

MM (trying hard to hide disgust): A donkey barbecue?

GATS: Yeah, they're gonna chew my ass.

Did I Really Say That?

2007-10-10T13:42:00.000-05:00

I used to work with a woman who was a veritable fountain of malapropisms. Once, to comment on the tendency of people in the office to carry on conversations next to the row of filing cabinets, she said "I've noticed that everyone seems to conjugate right here." My boss and I shared a knowing look, but because this woman never learned to laugh at herself, it was only later that we could wonder aloud if she meant that in the grammatical or the Biblical sense. But my all-time favorite came when she was describing a very fancy wedding shower and the expensive gifts. "She got a huge soup latrine!" By almost choking to death, I managed not to laugh, but it did cross my mind that this had to be one of the world's greatest time savers -- you drink, you go, and just one dish to clean.

This morning, I had a cramp in my foot that I could not work out. After trying a variety of exercises and massage, I started lecturing my foot. [Yes, sadly, I have become one of those crazy old ladies who owns cats and talks to herself.] "What is the matter with you?" I scolded my foot. "Why won't you behave me?"

What was that about not casting the first stone.....?

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Kitchen

2007-10-01T10:15:00.000-05:00

From the dining area. This will be a bar when it's done, where people can sit and talk but not get in my way as I'm cooking. (I tend to race around when I get in the groove and people have to be quick on their feet to get out of my way. But I do enjoy the company, so this should work well.)
The window is where the eating area will be. (Is?) You can see I've been experimenting with paint, to be sure I have the color I want. The big open cabinet on the right is for the ovens -- two of them! Convection! With 3 racks apiece! -- and the open cabinet on the bottom left is for the cooktop.

The sink will be under the window, with the diswasher to the right and a drawer for the trash can on the left. The carpenters sent me out to buy the trash can Thursday afternoon, but when I returned with it, they had gone and haven't been seen since. Sort of a snipe hunt for carpenters, I guess. You may notice some triangles stuck on the wall. I want a white tile backsplash with these decorative tiles interspersed. I had to put down a $100 deposit to bring the tiles home, and then they were stuck to the board and not removable. So I stuck the board on my copier, then cut out a bunch of the tile copies and taped them to the wall until I had a good idea of how far apart I want them. The cabinets are going to be white beadboard, except for the two beside the sink, which will have glass doors. The countertop will be a light gray silestone. I have an old butcherblock table that I will use as an island. The carpenter is going to build a new base for it with storage and I'm going to paint the bottom part corflower blue. So with my mustardy yellow walls, white cabinets and blue island, I hope I end up with a country French look. And if not, oh well, blue and yellow just happen to be my two favorite colors.

The stucco guys are here -- I need to go do a little supervision now.

Driven to Poetry

2007-09-23T06:24:00.000-05:00

This morning there was evidence of another nocturnal visitor, in the form of trash pulled out of the trash can, a piece of stale bread in the dirty clothes basket, and the loaf of bread moved several feet from where it was. All this fun has inspired me to poetry.

There's a possum in my panties

And a raccoon in the hall.

The air's so thick with sheetrock dust

We cannot breathe at all.

With saws and hammers screeching

And workmen everywhere,

They ask every two minutes

"Should this be here or there?"

You'd better not be modest

When you heed nature's call,

Doors? Oh, what a quaint idea!

They are not there at all.

Make coffee in the bathroom,

(Keeps down the restaurant bill).

And sometimes when the workers leave

We fire up the grill.

They say it will be worth it

When all the work has ceased.

Meanwhile this little possum

Lives out his fantasies.

Or as Shane might have phrased it:

The possum snuggles,

Pretending to be human

In silky fabric.

Well, At Least My Life Is Interesting

2007-09-21T14:24:00.000-05:00

Early yesterday morning, like 4:00 AM early, I got up to get some work done before the day got into full swing. I flipped on the bathroom light and heard a scurrying noise, then a bump. A big bump. So I took a look at the bookcase where I'm keeping my clothes and saw this

Although they've been making progress on the house, there was still a gap between the porch rafters and the walls of the house. A possum-sized gap. I think this little fella -- and I know he's male, he's in my panties, for heaven's sake! -- has been coming in quietly for quite some time and finishing off the cat's food, munching on the bread, picking things out of the trash. My schedule just hasn't coincided with his before this. I'm either getting calmer in my old age, or there are no more surprises, because I barely jumped. I did, however, wake the Professor and told him to deal with it. You see the size of his claws. I had no intention of messing with that. The Professor took the time to put on jeans, shoes and a shirt, just in case Mr. Possum decided to fight for his territory. But he went peacefully.

I came home from a business trip just a little while ago to find the house full of workmen. They are putting the ceiling on the front porch, which should eliminate the access for wild critters. Others are hanging sheetrock in the den and halls. The other day the carpenter and I had a meeting about the kitchen cabinets, and I was told he would start building them yesterday. I was so excited driving home, thinking about my cabinets. But all I have is a couple of boards laid out for the penisula, and stacks and stacks of wood in the den that I assume will magically turn into cabinets.

The cabinet meeting was tougher than I expected. First of all, he just knocked on my office door and said he needed to talk to me. I didn't even know he was there. Heck, I didn't even know he was coming. He drew the outlines on the floor, then started bombarding me with "doors or drawers?" (Sounds like a quiz show title, doesn't it?) Then he did that man-thing that drives me crazy. If I said drawers, he frowned. I had to drag out of him that I would be losing about six inches of space with drawers instead of cabinets. We first talked about the cabinets several weeks ago. He knew way back then about the differences. But would he tell me? Oh no, then I would have had lots of time to organize it in my head, instead of having to design my storage on the spot. But however it comes out, it will be lots more storage than I've had -- even back when I had an actual kitchen with actual storage.

Last weekend I had to go get some nice clothes out of the storage unit. I can barely remember what possessions I have, but I was simply stunned when I opened the clothing boxes and saw all those clothes. It was a little like getting out the Christmas ornaments -- you kow, "Oh, I remember that! Look at this, it's so pretty! I forgot how much I like this." I suspect that when I have a real closet again, I will take these few clothes that I have worn day after day after day after day and burn them.

Last weekend we picked out our front door and the brick for the fireplace chimney and hearth. I have been bringing carpet samples home to show the Professor. Most of the house will be (fake) wood floors, but the bedrooms and the loft will be carpeted, partly for quiet and partly because carpet is a lot cheaper than wood, even the fake stuff. The Professor has said several times that he doesn't care about colors, but every time I bring something home, he doesn't like it. Shag carpet is back, but now it's called frieze. We saw some in a model home and both liked it. So I brought some home and the Professor asked why I wanted to buy a carpet that already looked dirty! Back to the drawing board ... In case you're wondering why I even bother getting his opinion when he's told me to do what I want, it's because we've been down this road before. Even though he agreed last time to the carpet and the window treatments, he has griped about them ever since. This time, once he agrees, he has to sign a piece of paper saying so. I figure there's only room for one bitchy person in a household, and that's my job.

Some Expensive Evening

2007-09-14T02:24:00.000-05:00

Seven - course dinner for twelve at the kitchen table at Brennan's, with wines to complement each dish and autographed cookbooks as a souvenir ........... $2,976.60

Stretch Hummer to take us about six miles each way and wait for us in between ..... $905.45

Spending the company's money instead of my own .... priceless!

It was a very nice evening, I have to admit. One of the invitees cancelled at 5:00 -- and we were leaving at 6:00. I really hated to waste the seat at the table, so I invited a couple of others from his company who showed up at our booth. Of course, everyone had other plans, but one of the already-busy invitees brought a co-worker over to take his place. The man was a stranger to me, but not for long. It is very difficult to stay strangers when you drink that much wine together!

A word about stretch Hummers -- don't. They look so cool from the outside, but the ceiling is very low and there is only one door. At 5', I was okay making my way from the door to the front, but the tall guys had a problem. Everyone agreed that the idea was terrific, but the reality did not match up.

Our table was literally in the kitchen, and set with so many wine glasses we didn't know where they would put our plates. We had our own -- I'm not sure what to call him, somewhere between a tour guide and a waiter. He would describe each wine, the grapes that were used, the process, etc., and each course. Let's see how much I can remember: we began with champagne, went through a few whites, then rose, and finished with reds. The courses were turtle soup, some sort of crab on a fried green tomato, a chacuterie plate (hope I spelled that right), salmon, veal, cheese plate, and dessert. In between courses we were encouraged to walk around the kitchen. At the beginning of the evening we had to be alert for waiters laden with heavy trays and moving fast. Come to think of it, as the evening wore on and the traffic slowed in the kitchen, we all seemed less inclined to get out of our chairs. Surely it wasn't all that wine we were drinking! The big boss took me aside and told me he had asked for cookbooks to be given to each person -- warning me, I guess, that the bill was going to be even bigger than I expected. Trust me, once the dinner bill goes over $1000, I really don't notice another $300. Some of the guys (cause, yeah, as usual I was the only female) asked the chef to put their wife's name on the flyleaf. We had a lot of fun coaching them on the line to use when they got home, something on the lines of Honey, this boring business dinner turned out to be in a nice place, and I missed your company so much, so I brought you this cookbook so you can cook all this good stuff for me. That should work, don't you think?

Oil at $70 a barrel is very good for the business I'm in, and this year's big trade show was packed like I haven't seen in years. The parking garage was already full when I got there Thursday morning, and I ended up parking in the basketball stadium garage. When I got back there that night about 11:00, I discovered it was an automatic pay gate to get out. No problem, I have a credit card. Oh wait, it doesn't take credit cards, and it says I only owe $2.00. Oh dear, I only have one $1 bill. I'll give it a $20. Ching, ching, ching, ching, ching, ching -- am I in Las Vegas? I seem to have hit a jackpot. You have no idea how heavy $18 worth of quarters is. I was scooping them out of the coin return and literally throwing them at my purse. The next morning, after only five hours of sleep and running out the door to keep an appointment, I picked up my purse and almost fell over from the weight. I had no idea what was in there -- did I steal a coffee cup? a bottle of wine? what in the hell is in this purse? I am going now to write on my whiteboard:

I will NOT drink champagne and seven different wines in a single evening.

I will not.

Well ..... maybe if I just sip next time ....

Notes From the Front Lines

2007-09-10T06:08:00.000-05:00

My trip to Portland last week was a total waste of time, as I expected. We rehearsed our end of year territory reviews, even though our fiscal year doesn't actually end until September 30, so every slide is currently incorrect. My reservations about my boss increased when he had a long phone conversation, liberally sprinkled with sentences like "I'm a soldier; if they tell me to march up the hill, I'll do it, even if I think they're wrong", and "I've kept my job all these years by doing exactly what they tell me to do". This was in reference to what I consider to be an incredibly stupid idea to take a young woman who they are thinking of hiring into a customer's plant. Aside from being very patronizing -- they want to see if she can deal with the noise, dirt and heat -- the liability of having a non-employee there on the company's behalf just boggles my mind. What if she gets hurt? What if she damages something? If I were in my boss's shoes, I would have put all my concerns in writing and made damn sure nothing could come back to me. I would not have clicked my heels, saluted, said "Yes, Sir!" and then tried to make a virtue of it. I think this is known as Differing World Views.

I bought a bed and dresser over the weekend. Fortunately, it's out of stock; if worst comes to worst and the furniture arrives before the house is done, I have the option of putting it in layaway. I wanted a canopy bed my whole life; I bought them for both my daughters and three of my four granddaughters. But you know what? -- giving it to someone else is not the same as actually having it for yourself. So now I will finally have my canopy bed. I was investigating the hand-tied canopies over the weekend and then it hit me that there are no rails across the top and a canopy will probably sag in the middle. Not to worry, though, I was already thinking that I would use velcro to attach it to the canopy frame, and avoid using anything over the top that could interfere with air flow. At my age, it is very important to have cool air circulating at night!

Speaking of age, I actually read the thing Social Secuity sends me every year and discovered that I have to work until I'm 66 if I want to get full benefits. Wahhhhh! Until I got this new boss, I couldn't imagine retiring. Now it's sounding wonderful.

At the end of August, I blinked one morning and felt something scratch my eye. It turned bright red and has not healed completely despite four trips to the eye doctor. I've been through a couple of different steroid eye drops; now she wants me to take 100 mg of ibuprofen 3 times a day. Just one little problem: ibuprofen only comes in 200 mg capsules.

I have to finalize my decision on the brick(?) stone(?) for the fireplace and hearth, pick a front door and choose tile for the guest bath -- today! Our biggest trade show of the year starts officially tomorrow morning but unofficially tonight with hospitality suites. I won't come up for air until Thursday afternoon. Wednesday night I'm taking some customers to a fancy schmancy wine and food pairing dinner, and I've hired a stretch Hummer to get them there and back. It's probably my only chance to ever ride in one.

And I have discovered that I apparently have a heart of stone. My 90 year old uncle died last week and I can't work up any emotion at all. He had so much talent and potential, but he was the model for the Peter Pan Syndrome. He had kids by two different wives, never paid child support, never contacted his children at all, but would periodically give my children wildly inappropriate gifts to soothe his conscience. (I may be giving him too much credit by thinking he had a conscience.) The kids thought he was great because he would pull quarters out of their ears and draw faces on the soles of their feet. My mother spent most of her life bouncing back and forth between seeing him as he really was and worshipping her big brother. I am trying to be supportive because she is grieving, but in my mind I am only thinking that he was 90, for heaven's sake; that was a long full life. And I am disgusted with the hurt he caused and the total selfishness he exhibited his whole life. So I am biting my tongue a lot, and occasionally I wonder if there's something wrong with me that I have no tears to shed for him.

Oh dear, it's Monday morning and I don't seem to have a nice word to say about anything. Think I'll go take a hot shower and see if I can wash some of this meanness out of me.

Coasters and Bathrooms and Meetings, Oh My!

2007-09-03T05:26:00.000-05:00

In the seventies, there was a book called I'm Okay, You're Okay, which explained all interactions between people by dividing personalities into Child, Adult and Parent. The Adult part did the work but was also aware and empowered; the Parent could be nurturing or critical; and the Child could be bratty at times, but was also the part that had fun. I remember the description of a Child-Child transaction: two people riding a roller coaster.

Behold Guppy and I having a Child-Child transaction!

When Astroworld shut down a couple of years ago, I was bummed out. I never dreamed that I would have a roller coaster, a real one, a wooden one, right in my back yard. It is probably two miles from me as the crow flies (as the seagull flies?), and four or five miles by land. Between the rainy summer we've had and some problems actually getting the coaster to coast, it didn't open until this past Friday. I think Guppy spent most of the weekend riding it, and I would have liked to, but there was too much to do at home.

Friday afternoon the builders said we need to have our bathroom tiles, the fireplace stone, and the front door picked out muy pronto. They do this a lot -- no information, no answers to our questions, then, wham! something is needed NOW. The Professor and I originally had planned to go visit his son & family over the weekend, until we got our list from the builder. The first thing I had to do was go look at model homes to see what in the world they're doing about bathroom tiles these days. I know everyone is fixated on bathrooms now, but to me they're just a place where you do necessary, but somewhat unmentionable, things. I will make it look nice, but I am not pouring a bunch of money into it. No marble, no gold-plated faucets, not even a heated towel rack -- although if I lived in a cold climate, that would be on my list.

And have you priced a door lately? The builder gave us a catalog and told us that showroom was so reasonable, he got his front door for less than $2000. We did NOT think that sounded like a bargain, so I ran down to Home Depot, figuring I could get a front door with two sidelights, in wood, with leaded glass, for aboout $600. Try $3800! I'm still shopping.

I am also back and forth between brick and limestone for the fireplace. It is so much easier to see something and criticize it than it is to make all the choices in the first place.

I am leaving for Portland tomorrow for a regional meeting to rehearse our year-end presentations before our sales meeting in November. I do not understand this rehearsal thing at all! We do our sales presentations all year all by ourselves. The dollar amount of our annual sales is what it is. We all have the same slide template to fill in with our particular information. Just what is there to rehearse? But since I have only worked up the energy to fill in one slide so far, I guess I'd better get to work on it. God, I am such a stereotypical salesman: give me people, don't give me paperwork. So off I go to labor on Labor Day.

Decisions, Decisions

2007-08-30T04:13:00.000-05:00

Catching up on things ... not, you understand, that there is much going in my life these days besides work and remodeling.

One day last week the Professor asked me why I tossed a loaf of bread at the foot of the stairs. Then he picked it up and said "Oh, and I see you opened it with your teeth." Rocky Raccoon had been here again. Then we got the windows put in and all the entry points sealed up. This morning? -- another loaf of bread halfway down the back hall. Oops, the Professor opened the kitchen windows and forgot to close them.

Earlier this week we ordered two sofas and a rug. I am cringing at the thought that they cost more than half the price of my first house. (My first house cost far less than a car does nowadays, but still, it's the principle of the thing.) I was out looking at furniture everywhere, wandered into an Ethan Allan store, and started talking to a very sharp young woman who had my likes and dislikes sized up in nothing flat. She found the fabric for the couches, she led me to the rug, she found the perfect paint for the walls, and most importantly, when I dragged the Professor into the store to see the stuff, she had brains enough to flirt with him. Ka-ching! Sale made.

The electricians and plumbers have been here all week. The plumbers have run the gas pipe for the new stove and have dug a trench halfway around the house so the kitchen sink can drain into the main sewer pipe. Now here's the interesting part: almost everyone who has worked on this house habla Espanol, but the guys digging the ditch? --- pale, freckled redheads!

I have been so impressed with the crew that has done the framing. They have a family business and they start training their sons early. All summer the carpenters brought their boys, who split their time between fishing at the dock and helping. These guys can run across a tiny board two stories in the air, and can catch pieces of wood while they're doing it. I've told them that if they ever get tired of framing, they can become a high wire act in the circus. They are so careful and protective of us, and they clean up their mess every day. I wish I could say the same about the electricians and the plumbers.

It is amazing how many decisions have to be made -- most of them on the spot with no forethought. Where do you want the switch for this light? How far back do you want us to cut this wall? Do you want a light in this closet? And on and on. But here's what happens if I'm not around to answer: they wired lights and ceiling fans on the front porch, but did not take into account where the porch swing would be. I will have to hang the swing in front of a window to keep it from hitting a ceiling fan blade. Hardly a tragedy, I know. Now we are picking outside doors, bathroom tile, and stone / brick / whatever for the chimney and hearth. No one has asked me yet what kind of knobs I want on the doors and kitchen drawers or what style of switch plates I want, but I know it's coming. I never gave most of this stuff a thought -- it's just there in the house, right? -- and about half the time when they ask me a question now I tell them I really don't care, just do what they normally do. But of course there is no "normal"; it's "lady, do you want it here or there?" I do not want it here or there, I do not want it anywhere -- no, wait, that's not right. Too many decisions have turned my brain to mush.

Eclipse

2007-08-28T05:14:00.000-05:00

I took a gazillion pictures, but it is really hard to get a good one. Nature cooperated pretty well and the clouds didn't swallow the moon until the very end of the eclipse. And, equally exciting to me, I took these pictures from our newly rebuilt balcony.

Saturday Photo Hunt: Happy

2007-08-25T06:57:00.000-05:00

Lots of things make me happy: sunrises, flowers, granchildren, chocolate ... But today I am happy because -- ta DA -- I have windows again!

In the loft ...

In the kitchen ...

Next to the fireplace ...

Yes, I know you have to use your imagination. For those not from hurricane-prone areas, all those silver straps are called hurricane straps. They help your roof stay attached to your walls. And if they work as they are supposed to, that will make me very, very happy.

Wordless Wednesday: Would You Dare?

2007-08-15T06:45:00.000-05:00

Excuse Me, Do You Know Where I Am?

2007-08-13T17:46:00.000-05:00

Last week, Baltimore.

This week, two nights in Houston entertaining a visitor from the factory, two nights in Corpus Christi.

Next week, one night (Sunday!) in Tulsa. Two nights in Houston entertaining someone from the factory.

The following week, four nights in Baton Rouge and New Orleans.

The week after that, three nights in Portland.

The following week, the biggest trade show of the year for my company, three straight days of 8:00 AM to midnight.

And if I'm lucky, I get to go to the fall API meeting the week after that.

Meanwhile, we have shingles on the roof, the fireplace is framed in, there are windows framed in in the loft. So there is some progress on the home front.

If I could just stay awake long enough to appreciate it...

Thursday Thirteen

2007-08-02T05:47:00.000-05:00

Thirteen things I can hardly wait for:

1. Doors on the bathrooms. For various reasons, there is not a bathroom in the house where you can have complete privacy. I have added to General Patton's best advice: "Never pass up an opportunity to pee when you find a bathroom with a door".

2. A clear driveway. There is so much stuff piled there: beams, plywood, siding. Shingles are supposed to come today. Cars? What a silly idea!

3. A clear lawn. The driveway won't hold all the stuff. Where they have used up piles, there are patches of dead grass. Between the piles, there is overgrown grass. Interspersed among the piles are pieces of broken glass (former windows) and more nails than I knew existed. Let's just say I won't be winning the Yard of the Month award.

4. Windows. The front window where the fireplace will be is boarded up. Ditto the to-be window over the kitchen sink, which used to be a door. The room functioning as our living/bedroom had the window broken out by an over-zealous sweeper the very first week of construction. The outer walls of the loft have been framed in now, but those windows are boarded up. Now I find out, after many promises to the contrary, that the hurricane-proof windows we want will take another 3 - 4 weeks to get here.

5. Complete walls. All the way around the house. We are still missing a couple of walls where the den meets the loft, and almost the entire house has a little space between the roof and the outer walls.

6. My kitchen. I miss baking! (I bet my customers miss my baking, too.) My kitchen right now is a microwave and toaster oven in the back hall, and the bathroom sink. Oh, and the refrigerator in the living/bedroom.

7. Home cooked meals. Eating out every night gets very old, very fast.

8. My ice maker. The plumbers and electricians have made a habit of disconnecting things, then disappearing for weeks. One of the things that got disconnected was the water supply to the ice maker. I am a spoiled brat about the ice. Now that I'm used to getting it without having to open the freezer door, it seems like a huge imposition to have to get ice the old-fashioned way. I have lectured myself about women in Africa walking six miles to get drinking water for the day and what kind of horrible, selfish creature am I to whine about the temporary loss of my ice maker, but you know what? I'm horrible and selfish but dammit, I miss my ice maker!

9. Clear sinuses. It won't happen until the dust is gone. The dust won't be gone for several more weeks.

10. My bed. We have the mattress on the floor, but for some reason it doesn't feel right and I end up sleeping on the couch more often than not. My back is not happy.

11. My promotion at work. Same job, just "Senior" attached to the title. I pointed out to them that the "senior" had better refer to experience, not age! The best part is that it comes with a nice, fat raise. I think it should have gone into effect yesterday. We'll see how long it takes the paychecks to catch up.

12. Opportunity to blog, to visit people, to chat with my neighbors. Between work and the incredible number of decisions to make, I have no leisure time.

13. A mind that can absorb things other than remodeling.

Wordless Wednesday: Wasp

2007-08-01T05:48:00.000-05:00

This wasp had already killed the cicada and was trying to take it ... somewhere ... to her nest? ... to a private place to eat? ... anyway, she was struggling since the cicada was much bigger than she was. Guppyman was taking pictures [you don't think I was going to get that close to a wasp, do you?] and eventually the flash annoyed her so much that she dropped the cicada and flew off.

We have had the beehive collapse syndrome here in Houston, and it seems like the absence of the bees has allowed the wasps to thrive. This is NOT a good thing.

Wordless Wednesday: Dude, Where's My Roof?

2007-07-25T04:28:00.001-05:00

A Little of This, A Little of That

2007-07-24T04:11:00.000-05:00

There is either light at the end of the tunnel, or the headlights of an onrushing train. Either way, it's movement. We have been stuck in a holding pattern for a couple of weeks while the structural engineer designed, analyzed, re-designed, re-analyzed -- you get the picture. Finally, we have a plan and should get the final approval on it from the city today. Then they can go back to re-building the framing so they can put on a new roof.

I posted pictures the other day of the loft with the roof torn off. It has been sitting like that, with just a covering of plastic, ever since. Last Friday we had a storm that was as bad as anything I've ever seen. I literally had a waterfall coming into the den. I found two little pans and spent 40 minutes replacing the full pan with the empty one, running to the door and dumping out the water, then running back to swap pans again. (The Professor, of course, with his incredible sense of timing, was off running an errand.)

The cabinet man came out yesterday. We started laying out the kitchen and realized that some changes are necessary. The Professor wants a 6 burner cooktop plus two wall ovens; I want a stove with the same number of burners and ovens. I am trying to save space for counters and cabinets; he is trying to keep us from getting in each other's way when we are preparing big meals for the entire family. The professionals agree with me; family members who have seen us in action agree with him. Stay tuned for more thrilling developments on this subject.

Rocky Raccoon has been sneaking into the house every night. He is huge -- about the size of a small dog, but much more muscular, something like a pit bull. I did some research on the internet and learned that raccoons can break in anywhere, and that it's not a good idea to let them associate the inside of your house with food. So last night I put a bag full of pecans out on the lawn, and we nailed up every access point we could see on the ground. (Although apparently raccoons are like cats and can get through much smaller openings than you would expect.) It's 4:30 AM and I haven't heard him yet, so I guess it's worked.

Last night the Professor had another fainting spell. It happened exactly like the first: he had just finished eating, complained of dizziness, and went out. It didn't seem to last as long this time, or maybe that was just because I wasn't terrified, and I didn't have to holler for help. He came to, he was fine, with no lingering effects except some clamminess of his skin. On the internet again ... discovered this is quite common in "older individuals" with high blood pressure. Both times this has happened he wasn't that hungry to begin with but ate everything on his plate, anyway, so hopefully, as all the literature suggests and any normal person should be able to figure out, he can control this by not over-eating.

Prayers and good thoughts would be appreciated for my ex-husband, the father of my children, who is having surgery for lung cancer on Friday.

Saturday Photo Hunt: Tiny

2007-07-21T04:44:00.000-05:00

This tiny church, which only holds about 30 people, is on the Big Island of Hawaii. Despite what you think you see, the back wall of the church is right behind the altar. Like so many buildings in Hawaii, it is open to the weather, with a big porch to keep the rain out. It perches at the top of a hill, and the path is lined with Crown of Thorns. With the ocean view, the wonderful tropical breeze and flower scents, and the charm of the building, I have always thought this is probably as close to God's ear as you will ever get on earth.

The Night Visitor

2007-07-20T04:55:00.000-05:00

Look what's been coming into my house at night! We stored the bags of pecans from last year's crop inside so the squirrels wouldn't eat them. But yesterday there were pecan shells all over the floor.

Here's the culprit.

He's very friendly. The Professor said the only thing that made him run was the flash going off three or four times in a row. He came back three times during the night, not that I knew it because I sleep like the dead. We blocked the hole where we thought he was coming in, but of course there are access points all over this house right now, and we didn't even slow him down. Sorry, I'm going to put a song in your head that you won't be able to get out, but I guess his name has to be Rocky Raccoon. The Professor said the cats ran to greet Rocky when he first showed up last night, so apparently they've all decided that he belongs here.

I had no idea remodeling would be so interesting!

The Progress Continues

2007-07-17T05:06:00.000-05:00

We have certainly had our share of problems: the electrical power failed in the underground line between the utility pole and the house; the tarp protecting the roof filled up with water and leaked all over the house; and in an apparently totally unrelated incident, the plumbing backed up. So maybe you can understand why I haven't been doing much blogging lately.

In some ways I feel like a dog: "The porch! My favorite place!" "The kitchen! My favorite place!" "The dining room! My favorite place!" But seeing my ideas turn into reality is such a thrill that I can stand and gaze at the (newly widened) back hall with rapture.

This used to be the master bedroom and is on its way to becoming the kitchen. The sink will be where that doorway is at the end of the room, and I will leave the window above as wide as it is now. This faces east -- I can see the bay -- and they've already built me a nice wide shelf for plants. You can see the framing of the pantry in the corner. When they cleared this room out enough for me to walk in it, I got out the blueprint and the sidewalk chalk and drew my counters out lifesize on the carpet. I am so glad I did that, because I ended up taking some room out of the breakfast area and putting it into the business end of the kitchen.

The Professor and I are squeezed into a couple of rooms. They tried hanging plastic to keep some of the dust out, but the plastic sheets would blow into the rooms, as my air conditioner air intake really sucks -- literally. So now we have zipper doors. At first the cats were afraid of them, but now they jump right through with no hesitation.

Monday we proceeded to this. Note that there is no roof. So of course it started to rain. It is now covered with plastic and we are waiting patiently for the workers to come back and put the roof on. Okay, maybe I'm lying about the patient part. I know that we have a long way to go and I have to stay calm, accepting and understanding about setbacks and interruptions, but there are moments ....

Saturday Photo Hunt: Shadow

2007-07-14T04:08:00.001-05:00

This is the only time in my life that I ever deliberately took a picture of a shadow. We were in the balloon, flying over the Masai Mara in Kenya. The whole trip was an incredible experience, and it's hard to pick out "best parts", but this balloon ride was definitely one of the best experiences.

Remodeling Update

2007-07-03T14:24:00.000-05:00

Guppyman: Mom, how come you aren't posting pictures every day of the remodeling progress?

Mitey Mite: Because I'm too busy coping with all the crises to even take a picture, much less post one.

Saturday before last, they poured concrete for the front and back porches. The following Monday, they informed me that they needed to start turning the master bedroom into the kitchen. They obviously didn't realize that I live with Professor Pack Rat, and clearing out anything of his is a Herculean task. In fact, I think Hercules would have been defeated.

Fortunately, the sun came out and they could work outside building the roofs for the porches. Oh, did the sun come out. It was hot. It was muggy. On Tuesday, the workers kept blowing a circuit with all their saws. On Wednesday morning -- Thursday? I've lost track -- anyway, I woke up at 2:00 AM because it was getting hot in the house. I had electricity in the bedroom hall, the back entry hall, the master bathroom (but the outlets didn't work) and the refrigerator. That was it. Because I had to get the electric company to remove a lock band on the meter before the electricians could do anything, it took almost 24 hours to restore power. But I did discover how delightful my new front porch is. It was so cool and breezy out there that I was tempted to sleep there. We will never know for sure, because no one is going to dig up the old power line, but there's a pretty good probability that they nicked the line while they were pouring the concrete. The guy from the power company says it takes a few days to fail when it's nicked.

Fast forward to Saturday. I have a lovely new porch, not completely roofed because the loft design got changed and we are waiting for engineering drawings, but it is covered with plastic to protect it from the rain. I am packing up boxes (and boxes and boxes) from the master bedroom. I go to the kitchen and almost break my neck as I encounter a big puddle of water. I look up and see water running through the ceiling fan. WTF!!!

I never thought to mention to the framers that the wind hits the front of the house so hard that it frequently takes down my Christmas lights. A few nails were not going to hold the plastic down. Part of it blew back, the plastic got slack and started filling up with water -- so much water that it knocked a short piece of plywood in. It looked like this.

You can see the dirt in the bottom of the "bag" and from there you can tell how much water had accumulated. Every twenty minutes or so I had to mop up huge puddles. Our builder is one of those southern gentleman who won't let a woman do anything difficult or scary, so I really hated to call him, but I just didn't know if the wet wires might short out all the other wires and start a fire. I reached him on his boat, he assured me that as long as I didn't have the fan or the light on it was safe, and said he would send someone out, even though I kept telling him I could live with a leak, just as long as it wasn't dangerous. The builder himself came out Sunday morning, squeezed through the studs in the attic and lifted up the plastic enough to drain the water. Well, of course, most, if not all, of it drained down through the ceiling fan. I had to go to ten minute mopping intervals. On Monday the framer came over, got up on the roof in a pouring rain, and tried one thing after another. Finally he went to get a heavy tarp, a blue one, or "FEMA roof" as we've called it ever since Katrina and Rita. Of course, as soon as he drove the final nail (this time through boards) the rain stopped.

So after all this, it wasn't a big surprise when the framer told me that I had to get everything out of the kitchen, too, so he could start demolishing it today. I was doing pretty well, but I had to stop because the builder sent two guys and a trailer over and I had to take them over to the storage place and help stuff ten pounds of stuff into a five pound bag. But Guppy and my incredible, fantastic DIL Stormii came over and packed up everything that was left. Stormii said she does this for a living and she just "exceeded expectations" on her review, and I believe it. I never would have been able to do all that by myself.

I have moved two tall, skinny bookcases into the former-hall-bath-soon-to-be-master-bath to serve as medicine cabinets/dressers. I also put the coffee pot, iced tea maker and microwave (which is probably a stretch) in there. It is now the "kitchroom". I cleared out some space in my office closet for my clothes; the Professor will just have to make do with whatever he took on his trip. Hey, he could have been here!

I have been totally neglecting my job, which makes me feel terrible, so look what I'm doing -- I'm blogging. Guppy just called me and said his car is completely dead; it would cost more to fix than it's worth. Stress? What stress?

I'm actually holding up pretty well, but poor Guppy, who just paid off his car with the money he was saving for a second car, to save the interest. Now he has no car, no equity, and no down payment. Go over and tell him at least he has friends out in the bloggy world.

Saturday Photo Hunt: Sweet

2007-06-30T05:43:00.001-05:00

So many meanings of the word "sweet" that I just couldn't pick one! These plumeria smell sweet.

A sweet girl really enjoying sweets!

This is the sort of picture that makes everyone say "Aw, how sweet!"

Wordless Wednesday

2007-06-27T05:12:00.001-05:00

Making Progress

2007-06-26T15:14:00.000-05:00

We were told that we had a couple of weeks while they worked on the outside before we had to have everything out of the way inside. So imagine my shock yesterday morning when the crew foreman told me that he needed to work inside! I bought a couple of days' time, but I am frantically packing things up and moving the big stuff into the dining room. The Professor is off on a trip to the Himalayas, so it all falls on me. But I got revenge -- I donated the Professor's dining room table, chairs and china cabinet to charity. Well, truthfully, he knew I was going to do it, although I don't think he was too thrilled about it. (It's only thirty-something, after all, but it's far from a classic.) Guppy and Storm came over and helped me move that out to the garage ... actually, now that I think about it, they moved it and I ran around in circles and tried to look useful.

Today the sun is shining and they are working on the roof. Here's what I came home to:

It looked like this on the back:

Bet you wish you had a guy growing out of your roof! They are putting up the framework for a covered walkway to the garage.

And this is my background music: nyraaaa, nyraaaa (the saw), bang, bang, bang (the hammer), fwwt, fwwt (the staple gun), punctuated by an occasional rumble from the air compressor. I'm sure it will grow old with time, but right now it really is music to my ears, because it means we're moving forward.

When I first got home, all the workers were resting. They were sprawled out on all my benches, and some were laying on pieces of wood. I really wanted a picture, but I was afraid they would think I was tryingto document laziness or something, so I didn't take one. But they were really cute. And the good news is that the foreman found my fabric coolers from Saturday. The crew deliberately hid them so they wouldn't be stolen. They did a great job of it!

Rainy Monday

2007-06-25T10:00:00.000-05:00

They poured the concrete for the front and back porches on Saturday. My neighbors probably were not too happy, because they started making a lot of noise at 7:30 A.M. It was already hot and muggy, so I ran out and got a case of bottled water. The big ice chest was nasty inside, so I got out two portable fabric ones and filled them up with ice and the bottles of water. Then I went off to a remodeling show, which turned out to be less than I anticipated. When I got home, there was the freshly-poured concrete, there were the empty bottles in the trash can, but my coolers were gone. I am trying to stay optomistic and think that someone is going to bring them back to me. Otherwise, it will put a serious dent in the generous part of my nature.

There is a tropical wave in the Gulf of Mexico, so we are supposed to have rain most of the week. Guess they won't get much work done. This gives me a little more time to obsess over details. The builder said he would put a plate in the porch ceiling so I can hang a swing. Then he suggested two swings, facing each other. I am bouncing back and forth over that. One minute I think it's the greatest idea I've ever heard; the next minute I think one swing and several chairs that can be moved into conversation groups is the way to go. Feel free to weigh in if you have an opinion about it.

Okay, non-remodeling subject. After the disastrous evacuation last year in advance of Hurrican Rita, Houston has made a lot of changes to their evacuation plans. One of them is to register everyone who does not have a car so they can be picked up and evacuated first. Guess where they're advertising the number to call for registration? On electronic signs on the freeway, of course!

And you've got to love my mother's attitude. At 87, she has a lot of pain from sciatica, but refuses to take pain pills because she does not want to be in a fog all the time. I was exploring options with her, such as surgery, chiropractory, or acupuncture. She told me she had investigated surgery, but it's just not worth it, because it only lasts five years!

Trapped!

2007-06-22T15:02:00.000-05:00

Can't get out this way! Can't get out this way, either!Can't even climb out the window!

But it's okay, I know a secret way out. I won't show you. It's a secret.

Wordless Wednesday:Stuff Everywhere!

2007-06-20T08:28:00.000-05:00

Monday Musings

2007-06-18T09:34:00.000-05:00

On Thursday, the builder surveyed the water damage in the den and loft, and concluded that it wasn't as bad as he feared. However, he, the Professor and the city inspector are in agreement that the roof needs to be rebuilt from the rafters up. Evidently the builder's foreman redesigned the roof structure on the fly, and everyone liked his plan. So we are waiting for the city inspector to sign off on it. One small problem: the Professor left this morning for a three-week trip to India. With any luck, he can get the drawings by email and approve them. I am totally immersed in colors, textures and features, and I don't really know much about what is actually holding the house up, so I am doing all I can to duck this part. But any choices to be made in the next three weeks will be mine, and if the Professor complains about them later, well, he should have stayed home. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

Meanwhile, I have packed up some stuff and taken it to storage, and moved some other stuff around. There is a piano in my entry hall, an entertainment center in the master bath, a foosball table in the kitchen, and an air hockey table in the bedroom. Let's just say I can't leap out of bed and run blindly to the bathroom in the dark. Soon I will have to rent a U-Haul and move this big stuff into storage, but I'm trying to get all the little stuff first. And there is so much little stuff! Get rid of it, you say? How could I part with the tin can that Guppy covered with tissue paper when he was 2, or the drawings my grandchildren did for me, or the admittedly scruffy-looking wind chimes my mother gave me?

Saturday night Prof and I went to the ballet (we have season tickets -- God love him, the Professor is one of those rare men who enjoys ballet.) Sunday afternoon I took Present Storm, the Little Angel, Astro Princess and her two little cousins to the same ballet. Good thing I really love ballet, huh! It is such a joy for me to see people discover the beauty of it. This one was Coppelia, and if it comes to a theater near you, by all means take a little girl to see it -- it's lively and funny and there are no long pas de deux (whatever the plural of that is) to bore little kids. Afterwards, we always go to the green room where the kids can get autographs and have their picture taken with the dancers. Dancers have to pay their dues like everyone, so it's the up and comers not yet ready for prime time who dance the matinees. There was a big difference in the male leads, but the girl who danced the matinee has real talent and was almost as good as the star who danced the night before. I told her she did a good job and got a breezy "Oh thanks" in return. "No" I said, "you don't understand; I was here last night [at this point her jaw dropped slightly and her eyes widened] and you did a Very. Good. Job." This time her thank you came from the heart. I could tell she was really pleased by the compliment, and that made me feel good.

An empty boat washed up not far from here over the weekend. Just a couple fishing for the day. They found one body, but not the other. There has been a chopper flying low back and forth along the shoreline of the bay all morning; I'm pretty sure they're looking for the other body. It makes me realize how uncertain life is, and that I need to cherish every moment of mine. Even the ones where I stub my toe on the entertainment center in the bathroom!

The Remodeling Begins

2007-06-14T05:24:00.000-05:00

All the ceiling in the den and loft had to be torn out so the extent of water damage can be assessed.

Can you say "DUST"???????

The cats are taking it in stride so far. Chula spent several minutes staring at the pile of broken sheetrock piled on the porch. I usually can tell what she's thinking, but this time -- not a clue.

Paranoia, Self - Destroya

2007-06-12T09:22:00.000-05:00

It seems that everywhere I go, all I meet are frightened people. Al-Quaeda terrorists are out to get them, wacko serial killers are out to get them, car jackers are out to get them, sexual predators are out to get their children. And they will insist that all these people are out to get me, too.

Okay, people can believe whatever they want. And they can arm themselves to the hilt, and advocate for kids to go to school with a gun strapped on -- I live in Texas, this is honest-to-God an argument I hear frequently. But when they throw away our constitutional rights with both hands, I have a mixture of anger, sadness and frustration.

We as Americans live under a rule of law. Our 6th amendment says that you cannot arrest and jail someone without specifically charging him and providing him with legal counsel. You can't make up a name, like "enemy combatant", and say that that justifies unconstitutional actions. As Donald Rumsfeld said, democracy is untidy. We live with some risk. You can eliminate all threats with a totalitarian government -- after all, Russia had no citizen crime when it was a Communist state. All they had to fear was the very government that was protecting them. This is exactly what Benjamin Franklin meant when he said "He who would trade freedom for security, deserves neither."

It isn't just the jailing of people illegally that bothers me. The 4th amendment specifically prohibits unreasonable search and seizure; certainly warrantless wiretapping, or for that matter, searching a car for drugs without probable cause, is a clear violation of the 4th amendment.

Then there's the indignities inflicted upon us at the airports. Take off your shoes, have all your liquids in a plastic bag, take out your computer, have your nail scissors confiscated -- you know the drill. But the moment the second plane hit the World Trade Center, the possibility of someone hijacking a plane and flying it into a building ended. Who would sit quietly in their seat and let that happen? Just like the people on the United flight, most of us would rush the hijackers and make sure that if we had to die, we wouldn't take any other people with us.

But people say "I'm all for it if it keeps us safe". Meanwhile, checked luggage is not x-rayed. If someone wants to blow up a plane, there's one way. Or bribe someone with security clearance to hide a package on the plane. And haven't all of us gotten to our destination and discovered that we had accidentally brought some forbidden object? For all the aggravation and indignities inflicted upon us, security missed it. Oh yeah, that's keeping us safe.

Anyway, why would a terrorist bother getting on a plane? All they have to do is leak a supposed plot, and we work ourselves into a frenzy. Shoe bombs? Explosive liquids? Blowing up JFK airport and the entire pipeline? (A physical impossibility, by the way.) I don't think Al-Quaeda is too bright, but they have figured out that there are a lot of paranoid people in this country. If they plant a suggestion, we will cheerfully give up more rights, inconvenience ourselves further, and cost ourselves lots more money.

Oh wait, didn't Al-Quaeda state long ago that their intention was to ruin our economy? Little by little, they seem to be doing exactly that, with our enthusiastic help.

I am not minimizing the things that have happened: the Murrah building in Oklahoma, the World Trade Center twice, the subways in Spain and England, as well as hotels and military bases around the world. These were all tragic events. But you cannot live danger-free unless you, along with everyone else, gives up every right in order to be safe. A good analogy, I think, is an animal in the zoo: completely safe, well-fed, possibly even a little bit happy. But who would choose a cage over freedom?

Statistically, we're all much more likey to die in a car accident than at the hands of a terrorist, serial killer, or even from contaminated food. But we all continue to drive. Our greatest fears are not rational, yet we are willing to give up our rights in the name of keeping us safe from them.

Just think about it.

Saturday Photo Hunt: Shoes

2007-06-09T07:33:00.000-05:00

Shoes come in all shapes and sizes!

Thursday Thirteen

2007-06-07T07:05:00.000-05:00

Thirteen decisions I have to make in the next few weeks:

1. Where shall we move to while the house is being remodeled? Should we try to get a big enough place to hold all our stuff, or just move into an apartment and get a storage shed? Will anyone give us a month-to-month lease?

2. What color do I want my kitchen counters to be? More importantly, do I want granite, quartz, concrete, ceramic, porcelain, or formica? [Do they even make formica anymore?]

3. What color do I want the outside trim to be? Our outer walls are concrete made to look like stucco -- Guppy calls it the tennis ball look -- so it really needs some color to the trim or the house is one big blob. But we are having a covered porch added, and I think the railings need to be painted white. I somehow have to blend white railings, off-white stucco and some color so it looks like it was planned that way.

3. Do I want to store my pots and pans in cabinets, drawers, or on an overhead pot rack?

4. I have a butcher block table that I plan to use as my island -- it's lower than a counter and much easier for me to work on. Guppy thinks I need a real island, with more storage. Do I?

5. What kind of windows do I want? The really expensive ones that will resist a hurricane without any kind of boarding up? Insulated? Attractive?

6. Lighting -- a new chandelier in the dining room? I'm actually still fond of the one I already have, which cost something like $82 twenty years ago, but it suits me. And we're talking about getting a much bigger dining room table, so we may need something larger. Or do they just get in the way?

7. What color should the walls be? I am doing the kitchen country French, so I know those walls will be gold. The Professor likes white walls -- I told him he can have them in his study, but I am having color. I am leaning toward red or orange in the dining room.

8. What color tile do I want in the bathrooms? Do I want to use the same tile on the floors, the walls, and the ceiling? I saw this in, of all places, a McDonald's bathroom, and really liked the effect.

9. I know I want hard wood floors in the kichen and halls. Den? Dining room? I'm not sure. I've pretty much decided to have carpet in all the bedrooms. Not only is it nicer to step on something soft 1st thing in the morning, but carpet acts as sound proofing, and it's much cheaper, too.

10. We have a small covered porch area on the side of the house, which mostly stores junk and the 2nd refrigerator. There will be some enclosed storage built there, which means the refrigerator has to move to ... I don't know. The garage? Inside the house, which means I have to move a closet around?

11. Then there's the master bedroom closet. The architects just threw up their hands and said to work it out with the builder about my sewing area and built-in ironing board. How much area do I need for clothes? How much for flat storage? How much for craft items?

12. What kind of fireplace do I want? I was thinking a nice wooden mantle with a brick hearth high enough to serve as seating. The Professor was thinking a stone fireplace would be just the thing. I am a wood and brick person, and for some reason stone turns me off. Do I stick to my guns and have everything my way? Do I give in and hate it forever?

13. And the biggest decision of all: should I run away right now, before all the insanity starts?

Wordless Wednesday

2007-06-06T08:48:00.001-05:00

Too many possible captions -- I'll let you make up your own.

Saturday Photo Hunt: Art

2007-06-02T09:30:00.000-05:00

I like to bring home native art as souvenirs from my travels for a variety of reasons: it's usually small and light and easy to pack; I do some artsy-craftsy stuff myself, so I really appreciate the skill and effort that went into it; and, most of all, because I buy things at outdoor markets, I get to interact with the people. So here are a few:

Quilting from Hawaii

Weaving by the Shipibo tribe of Peru.

Molas from Panama.

On the left, a doll from Peru. In the middle, a doll from Africa (that still has a faint whiff of smoke), and on the right, a carving of African tribesmen. These may be my favorites because they are not sophisticated creations, just the product of imagination, effort and love. I love what is normally referred to as "great art", but in some ways I love native art even more.

Hearts and Flowers

2007-05-31T17:04:00.000-05:00

Flowers volunteer in my yard all the time. Most of them get pulled out by the roots, simply because they are in the wrong spot. But this one charmed me completely.

Airborne seed? Undigested bird food? I don't know, but I'm going to let it stay and get as big as it wants to.

And this pair of deliberately planted vines makes me smile every year. Notice that the one on the right has lots of soil to spread its roots in, and a perfect amount of sun and shade. The one on the left has a tiny opening in the bricks, but it blooms its heart out every year. So, of course, the one on the left is a Bleeding Heart, and the one on the right is a Compassionate Conservative. (No offense, Republicans, it's just too good a line!)

Wordless Wednesday

2007-05-30T08:31:00.001-05:00

Who knew that Louisville Slugger bats were made in ... um ... Louisville? The Professor just had to try out the Bambino's bat. And, sad to say, we are both old enough to remember Jackie Robinson on the ball field.

And a Lovely Time Was Had By All

2007-05-29T07:16:00.000-05:00

What a nice Memorial Day weekend! The Professor left Friday morning to drive to Louisville KY. The thought of two days in a Corvette just didn't appeal to me -- I'm no fun anymore, I know -- so I flew up there on Saturday. The flight was an hour late in leaving, so the Professor was waiting for me, instead of me waiting for him.

We went to dinner with PresentStorm's cousin, his wife, and his younger son T -Man, who is 8. T-Man has cerebral palsy and is confined to a wheelchair. He has a smile that lights up the room, a sunny disposition, and an adorable personality. I met him only once, at Guppy and Stormii's wedding, but I simply fell in love with him and have kept in touch with birthday and post cards. The Professor could not make the wedding, so this was his first time to meet T-Man, and he was as charmed as I am. After dinner, he asked if he could give T-Man a ride in the Vette. Now T-Man cannot even hold himself upright, but his dad, God love him, said he would sit in the seat and hold T-Man on his lap. The instant T-Man heard he was going for a ride, he started pouring out "Thank you! Oh, thank you!" The Professor said he grinned through the whole ride, and when they returned T-Man was saying "I want to go again!"

On Sunday we drove up to Indianapolis for the race. Everything was going great until the rain started. We hung around for a while, but our calculations said that even if the rain stopped immediately, it would take them at least an hour to dry the track -- first they use big squeegies, then giant hair dryers on wheels -- and they would probably be on the outer edge of time to re-start. They had run 111 laps at that point, so it counted as the official race. So off we went to a lovely little restaurant we know there. We were just finishing up our meal when the people at the next table announced that the race was re-starting. We hauled back to the track, but by the time we got there we realized we couldn't park and get into the stadium in time to see the final lap.

Monday morning we went to Churchill Downs and took the walking tour. They were going to have horse races, starting at 1:15 -- and my flight home was at 2:25, so I couldn't stay for the races. I have never seen a horse race, and Churchill Downs seemed like such a perfect place to see the first one.

As it turned out, I would have had plenty of time to watch the races. They called my flight; we got right to the door of the plane and were told that there was bad weather in Houston and we would delay about 15 minutes before boarding. After a few minutes, we boarded the plane, were all buckled in and ready to go when they announced that it would be a 2 to 3 hour delay. So we got off the plane and hung around for hours, finally taking off at 5:30. It turned out to be a longer travel day than I anticipated (and the cats had quite a bit to say about that when I finally made it home), but all in all, it was a lovely weekend.