Baa-aa-aaa!
So, as I wrote in the last post, the final issue that tipped me over to getting the iPhone replaced was the difficulty I was having with listening to music even though I had hit shuffle on the playlist, it kept repeating whichever song I was on over and over. And I was frustrated that I couldn't turn off the iPhone to reset and reboot the problem. That THIS was what finally made me do something. And then, the next morning, after it had been rebooted, having the problem continue was what led to my brief (let's humor me) rant that I posted.
Today, the new iPhone arrived. Rather the new-old iPhone. And I kept my tweeps informed minute by minute as I awaited the restoration of my old phone's data onto my new phone, and the status of pictures, music, apps, etc. It was very riveting stuff.
But, finally, I get it mostly configured the way I want it. As best as it's going to get for now, and I decide to try out the speakers, and play a song from the music library I have downloaded onto my iPhone.
And the f-ing song repeats. Swear to God. WTF? I mean this stupid bug must be with the system, or some virus, or.. oh.. wait... if I click up near the name.. What's that? Oh.. the controls for shuffle and repeat? And, what is that? the phone is on repeat 1?
Oooops....
Well.. I needed to get myself a new phone anyway.
This is my 200th published post (there are several unpublished ones). I am grateful, like sheep, you all continue to follow me... Baa-aa-aaa!
Stick around and share with your friends. :)
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Friday, November 9, 2012
And that, ma'am, is why I threw my iPhone against the wall...
Okay, so I haven't actually done so. But I am tempted to do so this morning. If a new one wasn't on its way, and it wasn't QUITE clear that I would be charged now at this point if it were damaged, well... Sit back and let me tell you the story! ;)
So a few weeks or so back, the top button on my iPhone started getting sticky and had trouble depressing. It didn't take too long before it stopped being able to depress at all.
For you non iPhone-ers, here are a few of the uses for the top button:
Well, I have still had several moments where I would like to have done a screen shot in the last couple of weeks, but I could grudgingly live without that function. And, clearly have.
And frankly, I rarely turn my phone off, so it's taken me a couple of weeks to realize what the detriment is in not being able to. When your software and your apps get wonky, just like any other computer, sometimes a reboot clears things out. So, last night, while doing some cleaning, I had my iPhone on speaker and went to one of my playlists (with more than one song on it) and hit the Shuffle option. It only played one song on repeat. Period. Over and over. I could move to the next song manually, but if I didn't do anything else, it would just play that song over and over again.
So, that was the tipping point for me, and the point at which I realized that this is a very clear reason to have the phone replaced.
Now I have an iTouch, too - first generation I believe. (I mentioned this last week for those keeping track of my toys). I have dropped that puppy and cracked the screen. God bless it, it keeps on working, anyway. And before I cracked the screen, I even slipped and dropped it in the toilet. It did recover, thank God, although for a few days there I was quite nervous. I had no cell phone at that time, and it was my sole source of potential communication (within WiFi) when I was out and about. But it recovered.
When we went to buy the iPhone last year, there was no question in my mind that we would pay for the insurance. My colleague and business partner was already grousing a little over the cost, but for me, having had one before, and having the iTouch, I was most comfortable with getting it. (When all these problems did arise, she did not hesitate to poke me by letting me know that her Droid is working just fine)
Armed with the account info I need, I head to the local Verizon store that's only a mile away. Because I really would like them to just physically replace it - but they can't do that these days. And I should have known that because even when I bought the phone from their store, it didn't come from their store. What's up with that? But that's another issue.
She inspected the phone, looked up the account, and given that it had been over a year since I bought it, concluded that it would have to be covered by insurance since the original manufacturer's warranty had expired. And, oh, by the way, it's a third party insurance company you have to make the claim with, but here is their phone number.
So, not even out of the store, I have dialed the number into the keypad, and immediately get the recording that it would be faster for me to go online, so I did.
But here's the problem that will bite me in the ass. I don't know HOW or WHY it stopped working. It got kinda sticky. Did I unknowingly spill soda in it? I don't think so (hence the unknowing part). But I don't know why. And apparently that's a big issue with these phone folks, and by outsourcing the insurance (which in theory, I understand) a huge hot potato issue arises.
After going through three of the six steps to file an insurance claim, the website stops me and tells me based upon my description of the problem, it isn't their problem. And that I should go back to Verizon and have them replace it. They did give me the magic words: "Extended Warranty Program". So I call back to the store - hoping that she will be able to give me my phone, but alas, I have to call *611. Oh well.
I do. And at some level what happened next was a small God-send because I really couldn't understand the first woman I was talking to. Her microphone was too close to her mouth or something and her speech was really garbled and hard to understand.
But I did understand her first part (and I understood it again the second time I went through the process) which was IF I WAS WRONG and they determined that indeed it was damaged, well, then, sorry dear, you should be aware that you are taking the risk of being charged. Excuse me? Couldn't you just send me back the phone and I would send it on to the insurance company for a claim instead? Or even better yet, couldn't you then send it along to the insurance company? Apparently, the answer to that is "no". So.. do you want to continue and risk being charged full price for a new iPhone?
Okay. Fine. I'm really not happy with that risk, but what choice do I have? Insurance takes care of damage, warranty takes care of manufacturing issues. On a serious note, several folks did tell me that I should run over the phone with my car. I am beginning to understand why - that would CLEARLY fall under the insurance company's responsibility. No risk.
Next thing she has me do is check my current system. Now I've avoided downloading the latest system because I was kinda fond of my Google maps. And everything else was working - so it wasn't like it was urgent. But apparently, you can't return a phone unless it is upgraded to the latest system. In theory, I understand. What if the malfunction was a result of a bug they'd already fixed? Okay. But this isn't a software issue, folks, it's a hardware one. Wha-t-ever. So, without thinking, I start the software update on my phone. A-a-and, of course, cut off the phone call.
While I waited the fifteen or twenty minutes for it to reboot and load the new system software, I thought to myself, well, the good thing is that at least I've rebooted it now, so my music will shuffle again.
Imagine my reaction this morning when I hit shuffle, and the same freaking song just repeated over and over again. :)
So a few weeks or so back, the top button on my iPhone started getting sticky and had trouble depressing. It didn't take too long before it stopped being able to depress at all.
For you non iPhone-ers, here are a few of the uses for the top button:
- to lock the phone - to prevent you from butt dialing, e-mailing, texting, or deleting apps amongst other things
- to take a screen shot - I like to take screen shots with my phone frequently.
- to turn off the phone
Well, I have still had several moments where I would like to have done a screen shot in the last couple of weeks, but I could grudgingly live without that function. And, clearly have.
And frankly, I rarely turn my phone off, so it's taken me a couple of weeks to realize what the detriment is in not being able to. When your software and your apps get wonky, just like any other computer, sometimes a reboot clears things out. So, last night, while doing some cleaning, I had my iPhone on speaker and went to one of my playlists (with more than one song on it) and hit the Shuffle option. It only played one song on repeat. Period. Over and over. I could move to the next song manually, but if I didn't do anything else, it would just play that song over and over again.
So, that was the tipping point for me, and the point at which I realized that this is a very clear reason to have the phone replaced.
Now I have an iTouch, too - first generation I believe. (I mentioned this last week for those keeping track of my toys). I have dropped that puppy and cracked the screen. God bless it, it keeps on working, anyway. And before I cracked the screen, I even slipped and dropped it in the toilet. It did recover, thank God, although for a few days there I was quite nervous. I had no cell phone at that time, and it was my sole source of potential communication (within WiFi) when I was out and about. But it recovered.
When we went to buy the iPhone last year, there was no question in my mind that we would pay for the insurance. My colleague and business partner was already grousing a little over the cost, but for me, having had one before, and having the iTouch, I was most comfortable with getting it. (When all these problems did arise, she did not hesitate to poke me by letting me know that her Droid is working just fine)
Armed with the account info I need, I head to the local Verizon store that's only a mile away. Because I really would like them to just physically replace it - but they can't do that these days. And I should have known that because even when I bought the phone from their store, it didn't come from their store. What's up with that? But that's another issue.
She inspected the phone, looked up the account, and given that it had been over a year since I bought it, concluded that it would have to be covered by insurance since the original manufacturer's warranty had expired. And, oh, by the way, it's a third party insurance company you have to make the claim with, but here is their phone number.
So, not even out of the store, I have dialed the number into the keypad, and immediately get the recording that it would be faster for me to go online, so I did.
But here's the problem that will bite me in the ass. I don't know HOW or WHY it stopped working. It got kinda sticky. Did I unknowingly spill soda in it? I don't think so (hence the unknowing part). But I don't know why. And apparently that's a big issue with these phone folks, and by outsourcing the insurance (which in theory, I understand) a huge hot potato issue arises.
After going through three of the six steps to file an insurance claim, the website stops me and tells me based upon my description of the problem, it isn't their problem. And that I should go back to Verizon and have them replace it. They did give me the magic words: "Extended Warranty Program". So I call back to the store - hoping that she will be able to give me my phone, but alas, I have to call *611. Oh well.
I do. And at some level what happened next was a small God-send because I really couldn't understand the first woman I was talking to. Her microphone was too close to her mouth or something and her speech was really garbled and hard to understand.
But I did understand her first part (and I understood it again the second time I went through the process) which was IF I WAS WRONG and they determined that indeed it was damaged, well, then, sorry dear, you should be aware that you are taking the risk of being charged. Excuse me? Couldn't you just send me back the phone and I would send it on to the insurance company for a claim instead? Or even better yet, couldn't you then send it along to the insurance company? Apparently, the answer to that is "no". So.. do you want to continue and risk being charged full price for a new iPhone?
Okay. Fine. I'm really not happy with that risk, but what choice do I have? Insurance takes care of damage, warranty takes care of manufacturing issues. On a serious note, several folks did tell me that I should run over the phone with my car. I am beginning to understand why - that would CLEARLY fall under the insurance company's responsibility. No risk.
Next thing she has me do is check my current system. Now I've avoided downloading the latest system because I was kinda fond of my Google maps. And everything else was working - so it wasn't like it was urgent. But apparently, you can't return a phone unless it is upgraded to the latest system. In theory, I understand. What if the malfunction was a result of a bug they'd already fixed? Okay. But this isn't a software issue, folks, it's a hardware one. Wha-t-ever. So, without thinking, I start the software update on my phone. A-a-and, of course, cut off the phone call.
While I waited the fifteen or twenty minutes for it to reboot and load the new system software, I thought to myself, well, the good thing is that at least I've rebooted it now, so my music will shuffle again.
Imagine my reaction this morning when I hit shuffle, and the same freaking song just repeated over and over again. :)
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Actions Speak Louder than Words
REAL TITLE: Stop the fucking whining and go do something yourself to "solve" the "problem".
It is quite clear after only about, oh, five seconds on Facebook that I really should wait another 24 hours or so before reviewing social media.
I live in a swing state. When political commercials weren't airing, the politicians themselves, visiting nearby areas, were on the television or radio. I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO tired of politics and all this crap.
And I pretty much left a comment on a friend's status that said Oh for God's sake, quit your whining. Today is the same as yesterday. It took us more than four years to develop this mess. Go volunteer for a vocational training program or do something to help the problem yourself.
Tough words from a writer. ;)
Y'know maybe our President isn't doing everything right. Maybe, even, he might be the source or contributing to some of the problems we have. But you know something? He's not the first, and he's not the last. AND - the most important piece of all - he's one person. Let's not fricking forget that any legislation passed - any "law of the land" must go through Congress first. If we have fricking sequestration it is going to be because CONGRESS didn't pass a budget.
So let's stop blaming OTHER people and become involved ourselves.
Seriously.
My church runs a food pantry. I see the "entitlement" issues - believe me. But I also see the people out there who truly are hurting and truly need help. Hell, in the last three years, I was one of those people, too. Much like our justice system that lets guilty people go to try and avoid imprisoning innocent people (another system that is FAR from perfect), our assistance programs help some people who don't really need help so that those people who DO need help get it.
Do you REALLY believe that people are not entitled to food? REALLY? Do you really believe as a society we should let people starve?
But part of the reason for the lack of discipline in our adults is the failure of our society - as parents, as teachers, as fellow citizens, to help provide appropriate structure and discipline for them when they were kids and now as adults. Now I'm not blaming EVERYONE. I am just saying that we have created this problem by raising a generation of kids - generally speaking - who believe that when they say "give me" they will get. We have had a generation of parents who give their children EVERYTHING - video games, cool bikes, pokemon cards, etc. - WHENEVER they ask. Without requiring them to earn it. Parents who clean their rooms for them, and are adverse to making their kids do chores because it frankly takes longer than doing it themselves.
So, when you're planning for Christmas this year - or Hannukah, or whatever gift-giving tradition you're doing, consider whether or not buying your kid everything they ask for isn't contributing to the problem.
Okay - that went a direction I wasn't planning - but you can't blame all of this entitlement - that has been going on for quite a few years now - on Obama.
You can't.
You can look inside yourselves and your fellow human beings in this society and consider how the things you've done and they've done, and others have done have contributed to this. Like Bush's Leave No Child Behind that took the teeth out of the education system by removing ANY consequence for not doing your school work and failing out. I have a fellow blogger friend write about a new substitute teaching job she has that is pure hell PARTLY because her students know that they can get a D- with 20%!! Really? REALLY??
And you all expect ONE man - whether it be Romney, Obama, Ryan, Biden, Clinton or Jesus to SOLVE that problem. And to do so in FOUR YEARS??? FFS folks.
Going back to the original point of this blog post - is that if you see that something needs to change - be the change. Do it yourself. Go volunteer for a vocational training program. Go volunteer for an after-school tutoring program so that our children can learn to learn. Go volunteer for a soup kitchen and recognize that there are some people who are simply not able - mentally or physically - to care for themselves in the way that you are. Go volunteer for a drug prevention program so that we limit the amount of people who abuse drugs and incapacitate themselves from being able to take care of themselves. START a program that does any of these things or anything else that you think might be contributing to this attitude of entitlement. HELP provide opportunities for people to take care of themselves. BE A PART OF THE FRICKING SOLUTION AND STOP WHINING!!!!!!!!!!!!
If you truly truly believe that ONE person can make a difference and change things, then go be that one person!! Seriously. Because I don't believe that ONE person can, I believe that ALL of us working together as a society can. I think each of us can make a significant difference, but it is only by working together - something that Congress and the President have a hard time doing because of BS - that we can truly make a difference. So go. Work with someone, and MAKE A DIFFERENCE! Quit your fricking whining.
Today is the same as yesterday - but you can be part of making a great tomorrow!
It is quite clear after only about, oh, five seconds on Facebook that I really should wait another 24 hours or so before reviewing social media.
I live in a swing state. When political commercials weren't airing, the politicians themselves, visiting nearby areas, were on the television or radio. I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO tired of politics and all this crap.
And I pretty much left a comment on a friend's status that said Oh for God's sake, quit your whining. Today is the same as yesterday. It took us more than four years to develop this mess. Go volunteer for a vocational training program or do something to help the problem yourself.
Tough words from a writer. ;)
Y'know maybe our President isn't doing everything right. Maybe, even, he might be the source or contributing to some of the problems we have. But you know something? He's not the first, and he's not the last. AND - the most important piece of all - he's one person. Let's not fricking forget that any legislation passed - any "law of the land" must go through Congress first. If we have fricking sequestration it is going to be because CONGRESS didn't pass a budget.
So let's stop blaming OTHER people and become involved ourselves.
Seriously.
My church runs a food pantry. I see the "entitlement" issues - believe me. But I also see the people out there who truly are hurting and truly need help. Hell, in the last three years, I was one of those people, too. Much like our justice system that lets guilty people go to try and avoid imprisoning innocent people (another system that is FAR from perfect), our assistance programs help some people who don't really need help so that those people who DO need help get it.
Do you REALLY believe that people are not entitled to food? REALLY? Do you really believe as a society we should let people starve?
But part of the reason for the lack of discipline in our adults is the failure of our society - as parents, as teachers, as fellow citizens, to help provide appropriate structure and discipline for them when they were kids and now as adults. Now I'm not blaming EVERYONE. I am just saying that we have created this problem by raising a generation of kids - generally speaking - who believe that when they say "give me" they will get. We have had a generation of parents who give their children EVERYTHING - video games, cool bikes, pokemon cards, etc. - WHENEVER they ask. Without requiring them to earn it. Parents who clean their rooms for them, and are adverse to making their kids do chores because it frankly takes longer than doing it themselves.
So, when you're planning for Christmas this year - or Hannukah, or whatever gift-giving tradition you're doing, consider whether or not buying your kid everything they ask for isn't contributing to the problem.
Okay - that went a direction I wasn't planning - but you can't blame all of this entitlement - that has been going on for quite a few years now - on Obama.
You can't.
You can look inside yourselves and your fellow human beings in this society and consider how the things you've done and they've done, and others have done have contributed to this. Like Bush's Leave No Child Behind that took the teeth out of the education system by removing ANY consequence for not doing your school work and failing out. I have a fellow blogger friend write about a new substitute teaching job she has that is pure hell PARTLY because her students know that they can get a D- with 20%!! Really? REALLY??
And you all expect ONE man - whether it be Romney, Obama, Ryan, Biden, Clinton or Jesus to SOLVE that problem. And to do so in FOUR YEARS??? FFS folks.
Going back to the original point of this blog post - is that if you see that something needs to change - be the change. Do it yourself. Go volunteer for a vocational training program. Go volunteer for an after-school tutoring program so that our children can learn to learn. Go volunteer for a soup kitchen and recognize that there are some people who are simply not able - mentally or physically - to care for themselves in the way that you are. Go volunteer for a drug prevention program so that we limit the amount of people who abuse drugs and incapacitate themselves from being able to take care of themselves. START a program that does any of these things or anything else that you think might be contributing to this attitude of entitlement. HELP provide opportunities for people to take care of themselves. BE A PART OF THE FRICKING SOLUTION AND STOP WHINING!!!!!!!!!!!!
If you truly truly believe that ONE person can make a difference and change things, then go be that one person!! Seriously. Because I don't believe that ONE person can, I believe that ALL of us working together as a society can. I think each of us can make a significant difference, but it is only by working together - something that Congress and the President have a hard time doing because of BS - that we can truly make a difference. So go. Work with someone, and MAKE A DIFFERENCE! Quit your fricking whining.
Today is the same as yesterday - but you can be part of making a great tomorrow!
Monday, November 5, 2012
Amusing Spam...
And really, how can one begin to talk about amusing spam, without referencing Monty Python? Surely, like me before this morning, it has been awhile (if ever) since you've seen this skit... "But I don't LIKE spam....!!!!!"
And it is a useful analogy - there in the cafe, it was impossible for the "woman" to get a meal without spam, so, too, it is impossible to blog without spam.
Now I haven't received THAT many spam comments - not like my friend Crooked Stamper, who has been commenting a lot on commenting that's spam, and wondering the great question that humans must ask: why?
(I think I got an eggs, bacon, spam, and sausage - it sounds like she got a spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, bacon, spam, spam order. And really, shouldn't she be happy? I mean who doesn't like bacon? Don't they say it goes with EVERYTHING? ;) )
Blogger is pretty good at catching spam. I admit it, now that I've seen a few, it follows a well-pat formula. And I try to avoid, myself, inadvertently following its formula when I leave my own comments now.
When I first started my blog, I took all the security precautions, while trying to open it up as much as I could. You can leave anonymous comments on here. Partly that was because my friend Robin was the only one reading for awhile, and it made it easier for her to appear as if she were many people! ;) But I can respect the need / desire for one - particularly when first commenting - to be anonymous. (And if I couldn't, well, then, we'd have a whole lot of other issues here, now wouldn't we?)
So, I have allowed anonymous commenting. But, early on, I turned on captcha. At least it would filter out the spam. Ha ha! Gotcha! It's like having sex with many partners but wearing an industrial strength condom. Or so I'd think - since really, I know very little about condoms, and what little I have heard is that none are "industrial strength". But I digress.
When I started to first get readers other than Robin, one of them politely mentioned that I'd snag MORE fish if I turned off captcha. Is that more, then, like having an IUD, so that the boys don't need to wear a raincoat? Wait - this analogy is going way south! Sorry...
Although, let's face it, Spam is a lot like an STD. More like that than an unwanted pregnancy, although, I do think that once the schemers have found you, they don't let you go. I have two posts that were found early on by the Ukrainians - they are my top two most popular posts - and I have NO idea what they get from that post. I wonder, sometimes, if some spammer has used MY two posts on ADD as an address for spam to someone else. Given the inordinate amount of traffic to those posts, and the dearth - dry desert - of comments... I dunno.. something's going on there.
However, I wanted more fish (goodness, those mixed metaphors) so I turned off captcha a long time ago. And have even given the advice to a few other blooming bloggers.
This morning, in my e-mail box, I received a comment from Anonymous. I have learned - mostly - not to get too excited when I see a comment from Anonymous - I have learned that 9 times out of 10, it's spam. And the spam folks are often quite creative. It's a vague enough comment, often complimentary - soothing to the ego - followed by a polite, hey check out my website, and a link. When Crooked Stamper finds out exactly what spammers get from this phishing (Hey, isn't that clever how it all circles back around, again? ;) ) she'll let me know, although I assume they get paid per click just like legitimate advertisers. It's things like "Really great article... For more you should catch my friend's article...<insert link here>." And if any of you have the answers for my friend Crooked Stamper, please feel free to leave them below - but, um, leave off your really helpful website, 'kay? 'Kay...
Now Blogger is a really good IUD, it seems. Er, I mean, it's a really good filter for spam. I honestly think that everything it's caught was spam, and everything it allowed to be published is not. My first spam I scratched my head, but trusted Blogger's experience, and now that I have seen several more, I know with certainty it was right.
But today's e-mailed spam comment made me laugh given the nature of it, and given that I *don't* use captcha, and that Blogger is pretty easy to set up with it. Oh, and that the comment, asking a question and looking for an answer, was anonymous.
Hi there! I know this is somewhat off topic but
I was wondering if you knew where I could locate a captcha plugin for my comment
form? I'm using the same blog platform as yours and I'm having difficulty finding one?
Thanks a lot!
Followed by a "My Page is..."
So, Mr. or Ms. Anonymous - here's the answer to your question: Blogger has an interface for captcha so you don't need to install a plug-in. :)
Glad I could help.
Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam... really - do click on the link above and have a moment's smile with Monty Python and the gang... It truly is amusing spam.
And it is a useful analogy - there in the cafe, it was impossible for the "woman" to get a meal without spam, so, too, it is impossible to blog without spam.
Spam, spam, spam, spam....
Now I haven't received THAT many spam comments - not like my friend Crooked Stamper, who has been commenting a lot on commenting that's spam, and wondering the great question that humans must ask: why?
(I think I got an eggs, bacon, spam, and sausage - it sounds like she got a spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, bacon, spam, spam order. And really, shouldn't she be happy? I mean who doesn't like bacon? Don't they say it goes with EVERYTHING? ;) )
Blogger is pretty good at catching spam. I admit it, now that I've seen a few, it follows a well-pat formula. And I try to avoid, myself, inadvertently following its formula when I leave my own comments now.
When I first started my blog, I took all the security precautions, while trying to open it up as much as I could. You can leave anonymous comments on here. Partly that was because my friend Robin was the only one reading for awhile, and it made it easier for her to appear as if she were many people! ;) But I can respect the need / desire for one - particularly when first commenting - to be anonymous. (And if I couldn't, well, then, we'd have a whole lot of other issues here, now wouldn't we?)
So, I have allowed anonymous commenting. But, early on, I turned on captcha. At least it would filter out the spam. Ha ha! Gotcha! It's like having sex with many partners but wearing an industrial strength condom. Or so I'd think - since really, I know very little about condoms, and what little I have heard is that none are "industrial strength". But I digress.
When I started to first get readers other than Robin, one of them politely mentioned that I'd snag MORE fish if I turned off captcha. Is that more, then, like having an IUD, so that the boys don't need to wear a raincoat? Wait - this analogy is going way south! Sorry...
Although, let's face it, Spam is a lot like an STD. More like that than an unwanted pregnancy, although, I do think that once the schemers have found you, they don't let you go. I have two posts that were found early on by the Ukrainians - they are my top two most popular posts - and I have NO idea what they get from that post. I wonder, sometimes, if some spammer has used MY two posts on ADD as an address for spam to someone else. Given the inordinate amount of traffic to those posts, and the dearth - dry desert - of comments... I dunno.. something's going on there.
However, I wanted more fish (goodness, those mixed metaphors) so I turned off captcha a long time ago. And have even given the advice to a few other blooming bloggers.
This morning, in my e-mail box, I received a comment from Anonymous. I have learned - mostly - not to get too excited when I see a comment from Anonymous - I have learned that 9 times out of 10, it's spam. And the spam folks are often quite creative. It's a vague enough comment, often complimentary - soothing to the ego - followed by a polite, hey check out my website, and a link. When Crooked Stamper finds out exactly what spammers get from this phishing (Hey, isn't that clever how it all circles back around, again? ;) ) she'll let me know, although I assume they get paid per click just like legitimate advertisers. It's things like "Really great article... For more you should catch my friend's article...<insert link here>." And if any of you have the answers for my friend Crooked Stamper, please feel free to leave them below - but, um, leave off your really helpful website, 'kay? 'Kay...
Now Blogger is a really good IUD, it seems. Er, I mean, it's a really good filter for spam. I honestly think that everything it's caught was spam, and everything it allowed to be published is not. My first spam I scratched my head, but trusted Blogger's experience, and now that I have seen several more, I know with certainty it was right.
But today's e-mailed spam comment made me laugh given the nature of it, and given that I *don't* use captcha, and that Blogger is pretty easy to set up with it. Oh, and that the comment, asking a question and looking for an answer, was anonymous.
Hi there! I know this is somewhat off topic but
I was wondering if you knew where I could locate a captcha plugin for my comment
form? I'm using the same blog platform as yours and I'm having difficulty finding one?
Thanks a lot!
Followed by a "My Page is..."
So, Mr. or Ms. Anonymous - here's the answer to your question: Blogger has an interface for captcha so you don't need to install a plug-in. :)
Glad I could help.
Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam... really - do click on the link above and have a moment's smile with Monty Python and the gang... It truly is amusing spam.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Politically Correct is No Longer Politically Correct
Because I declare it makes it so, right? Sure, why not? Let's go with it...
But seriously, though, as I have aged, matured, and grown wiser, I have come to recognize that politically correct is usually not correct. If anything, it's arrogant, elitist, and well, therefore, wrong. At least as far as what it is intended to be.
The real term I think we need to adopt, instead, is political sensitivity. And frankly I think that sensitivity needs to go in both directions.
I grew up on the East Coast, and growing up those of Asian descent - or at least certain portions of those of Asian descent - were referred to as "Oriental". I knew nothing different until I moved to San Francisco - a city and an area with a large Asian population. Now, I admit, when I hear the term "Oriental" it makes me cringe. I have been properlyre-doctrinated sensitized to the impropriety of using that term. I've moved a little further closer to the East Coast than the West, and I hear it frequently. I do think geography plays a part, sometimes, in the choice of terms that are used.
There is a fine nuanced - but quite emotionally charged - difference between a person of color and a colored person. Grammatically, if the underlying word were something other than "color" the preferred word choice would be to lessen the number of words, and put the adjective before the word "person" and eliminate the word "of"/ An example: "chair of wood" versus "wooden chair". The second construction, grammatically, is much more preferred.
But political correctness usually has little to do with grammar, although it has everything to do with word choice. Or should I say, choice of word? You see my point.
I think rather than concentrate so strongly and so heartily on political "correctness", we should instead strive for political sensitivity. Be sensitive that certain words may have a history that make them an undesirable choice to be applied towards others. And be sensitive that sometimes people don't know what to say, and that rather than judge them solely on their choice of words, judge them on their intentions. Feel free to educate them about how a certain word choice might not be the best choice, but do so gently, as your mother might have taught you it was not appropriate to use certain four letter words in polite company. How many stories have you heard of toddlers using the word "fuck" or "shit" and getting a giggle and reaction so they use it again. Until someone can teach them that it is not appropriate.
Yes, some people, like toddlers, use words deliberately to get a reaction. You don't need to be sensitive towards those who are being insensitive to you. It's been nearly twenty years since I moved to San Francisco - and frankly I can't remember the moment when someone informed me that my choice of words was not the best, but I imagine it was done gently. The person who I said it in front of understood that I meant no offense, that I knew no better, and that it was not meant to harm.
I think we are quick to find offense where none is intended, and create a bigger issue than is needed. I think we do this at the personal level, and I think we do this at the political level. And I think we need to stop, step back, and try to understand each other as humans, as individuals, and to not assume what was meant was mean or bad, and to try and return with kindness and understanding.
This is not a new concept that I am iterating for the first time tonight. I have touched upon it before. I spoke about thinking of us as a collective - a Borg Collective - where we hurt ourselves when we hurt one another in We Are Family. I talked about taking care with our choice of words in Sticks & Stones. I wrote about it in Isn't Dyke Derogatory? I thought I even had a post that was even more on point, but I am not finding it as I trip down blog memory lane.
But the point I want to make is that we should treat each other with respect and hear more than just the words that come out of someone's mouth. That respect goes both ways. The person next to you might not have any clue that his words might be found offensive. And the only way he will get a clue - and truly understand it - is if you explain it to him in a way that shows him you don't think he intended the potential consequence of his words, and another way he might express himself that is less potentially upsetting. But look behind the words.
As I write further, I think the post I am thinking of might still be a draft and unpublished. I was on a radically pro-choice website a couple months back and posted a rather innocent comment that inadvertently did NOT use the politically correct words of the day. MAN if I didn't get slammed. Even when I tried to explain where I was coming from and my intention, there were many who could never get past the initial word choice that I used. I reacted sensitively to their anger - and in the end, I didn't publish my post because I knew I was too upset to be able to step back and look at the situation more objectively. Had I done wrong? Yes and no. I can see why a certain word choice MIGHT lead to certain other conclusions - even though I hadn't intended them. But I hadn't intended them, and frankly, in my grand beautiful world of political sensitivity rather than political correctness, that would have meant something and had some value. And I could have been gently guided into understanding the offense that certain words might generate. But to just take offense over a word choice without looking underneath the words is just as offensive to me.
In church a few weeks back, one of the kids told another of our parishioners how they'd been kept home all week because they'd called their teacher a bitch. This particular woman was - understandably - upset about it. If it had happened to me (he then threatened to call her a bitch, I think), I don't think it would have upset me in the same way. It's a word. He's a kid. He's trying to get a reaction. And frankly, my job isn't to be liked by him. If he likes me, bonus. My job is to set a good example for him, be a role model, where possible, and to give him a positive experience rather than a negative one. To educate him. To help him understand the consequences of his actions, and with consequences that DO mean something to him. (Yeah, I'm just SO great, wonderful, omniscient and omnipotent to do ALL that.. now who's talking about being arrogant?)
But if you can step back, in this example, and understand what the child is trying to accomplish - to gain attention - and to instead disarm that method and encourage him in other ways, you address the real issue.
You can call me dyke, you can call me muff-diver, bitch, a whole host of words. The words, alone, ideally won't upset me. What will upset me, what will hurt, will be the intent behind them. If you intend to hurt me, you may. But frankly, as I learned when writing Sticks & Stones, and its follow-up, if it hurts me, usually it says more about me and my own issues than it does about yours.
I don't know if this is at all coherent. But I think one person, or one group of people, generally determining what is "correct" to say and what is "incorrect" and judging others solely by their choice of words - particularly if that choice is uninformed as to the potential meanings of such words - is simply arrogant. It's elitist - we know what YOU can say, and you don't. We are the arbiters of what is RIGHT, and you aren't. It's arrogant. And it's not useful. Instead, be sensitive, and help others be sensitive. Let's emerge into an enlightened world of political sensitivity. Where there is no "right" and "wrong" but there is compassion and understanding for our fellow human beings. Because as a society, in the end, we are one. And what hurts one of us, hurts us all. And what lifts up one of us, can lift us all up.
You have been assimilated. Resistance is futile.
But seriously, though, as I have aged, matured, and grown wiser, I have come to recognize that politically correct is usually not correct. If anything, it's arrogant, elitist, and well, therefore, wrong. At least as far as what it is intended to be.
The real term I think we need to adopt, instead, is political sensitivity. And frankly I think that sensitivity needs to go in both directions.
I grew up on the East Coast, and growing up those of Asian descent - or at least certain portions of those of Asian descent - were referred to as "Oriental". I knew nothing different until I moved to San Francisco - a city and an area with a large Asian population. Now, I admit, when I hear the term "Oriental" it makes me cringe. I have been properly
There is a fine nuanced - but quite emotionally charged - difference between a person of color and a colored person. Grammatically, if the underlying word were something other than "color" the preferred word choice would be to lessen the number of words, and put the adjective before the word "person" and eliminate the word "of"/ An example: "chair of wood" versus "wooden chair". The second construction, grammatically, is much more preferred.
But political correctness usually has little to do with grammar, although it has everything to do with word choice. Or should I say, choice of word? You see my point.
I think rather than concentrate so strongly and so heartily on political "correctness", we should instead strive for political sensitivity. Be sensitive that certain words may have a history that make them an undesirable choice to be applied towards others. And be sensitive that sometimes people don't know what to say, and that rather than judge them solely on their choice of words, judge them on their intentions. Feel free to educate them about how a certain word choice might not be the best choice, but do so gently, as your mother might have taught you it was not appropriate to use certain four letter words in polite company. How many stories have you heard of toddlers using the word "fuck" or "shit" and getting a giggle and reaction so they use it again. Until someone can teach them that it is not appropriate.
Yes, some people, like toddlers, use words deliberately to get a reaction. You don't need to be sensitive towards those who are being insensitive to you. It's been nearly twenty years since I moved to San Francisco - and frankly I can't remember the moment when someone informed me that my choice of words was not the best, but I imagine it was done gently. The person who I said it in front of understood that I meant no offense, that I knew no better, and that it was not meant to harm.
I think we are quick to find offense where none is intended, and create a bigger issue than is needed. I think we do this at the personal level, and I think we do this at the political level. And I think we need to stop, step back, and try to understand each other as humans, as individuals, and to not assume what was meant was mean or bad, and to try and return with kindness and understanding.
This is not a new concept that I am iterating for the first time tonight. I have touched upon it before. I spoke about thinking of us as a collective - a Borg Collective - where we hurt ourselves when we hurt one another in We Are Family. I talked about taking care with our choice of words in Sticks & Stones. I wrote about it in Isn't Dyke Derogatory? I thought I even had a post that was even more on point, but I am not finding it as I trip down blog memory lane.
But the point I want to make is that we should treat each other with respect and hear more than just the words that come out of someone's mouth. That respect goes both ways. The person next to you might not have any clue that his words might be found offensive. And the only way he will get a clue - and truly understand it - is if you explain it to him in a way that shows him you don't think he intended the potential consequence of his words, and another way he might express himself that is less potentially upsetting. But look behind the words.
As I write further, I think the post I am thinking of might still be a draft and unpublished. I was on a radically pro-choice website a couple months back and posted a rather innocent comment that inadvertently did NOT use the politically correct words of the day. MAN if I didn't get slammed. Even when I tried to explain where I was coming from and my intention, there were many who could never get past the initial word choice that I used. I reacted sensitively to their anger - and in the end, I didn't publish my post because I knew I was too upset to be able to step back and look at the situation more objectively. Had I done wrong? Yes and no. I can see why a certain word choice MIGHT lead to certain other conclusions - even though I hadn't intended them. But I hadn't intended them, and frankly, in my grand beautiful world of political sensitivity rather than political correctness, that would have meant something and had some value. And I could have been gently guided into understanding the offense that certain words might generate. But to just take offense over a word choice without looking underneath the words is just as offensive to me.
In church a few weeks back, one of the kids told another of our parishioners how they'd been kept home all week because they'd called their teacher a bitch. This particular woman was - understandably - upset about it. If it had happened to me (he then threatened to call her a bitch, I think), I don't think it would have upset me in the same way. It's a word. He's a kid. He's trying to get a reaction. And frankly, my job isn't to be liked by him. If he likes me, bonus. My job is to set a good example for him, be a role model, where possible, and to give him a positive experience rather than a negative one. To educate him. To help him understand the consequences of his actions, and with consequences that DO mean something to him. (Yeah, I'm just SO great, wonderful, omniscient and omnipotent to do ALL that.. now who's talking about being arrogant?)
But if you can step back, in this example, and understand what the child is trying to accomplish - to gain attention - and to instead disarm that method and encourage him in other ways, you address the real issue.
You can call me dyke, you can call me muff-diver, bitch, a whole host of words. The words, alone, ideally won't upset me. What will upset me, what will hurt, will be the intent behind them. If you intend to hurt me, you may. But frankly, as I learned when writing Sticks & Stones, and its follow-up, if it hurts me, usually it says more about me and my own issues than it does about yours.
I don't know if this is at all coherent. But I think one person, or one group of people, generally determining what is "correct" to say and what is "incorrect" and judging others solely by their choice of words - particularly if that choice is uninformed as to the potential meanings of such words - is simply arrogant. It's elitist - we know what YOU can say, and you don't. We are the arbiters of what is RIGHT, and you aren't. It's arrogant. And it's not useful. Instead, be sensitive, and help others be sensitive. Let's emerge into an enlightened world of political sensitivity. Where there is no "right" and "wrong" but there is compassion and understanding for our fellow human beings. Because as a society, in the end, we are one. And what hurts one of us, hurts us all. And what lifts up one of us, can lift us all up.
You have been assimilated. Resistance is futile.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Old iPods
I have an old clunky 20 GB white iPod that contains most of the music I owned before. I don't even know if I still have the computer with the iTunes with the library of all the CDs I had once owned and burned. I thought it was on an external hard drive, but I'm not exactly certain where that hard drive is.
But that is an aside.
I took a trip across country in 2007, and the old clunky 20 GB white iPod died. Pfft. Done. Couldn't be revived. And it was horrible at the time because I was driving long days - going from friend to friend. My father replaced it at Christmas that year with a first generation iPod Touch (with LESS memory) which has mostly been replaced by my iPhone.
All of the above is mostly verbal vomit dancing around the real topic of this post.
At some point, after Dad bought me the iTouch, I was surprised to discover the white iPod worked. Still to this day no idea why. But now I have this little (relatively heavy) archive of music I used to listen to.
When I took off on that cross country trip, it was after having had a marriage counseling appointment that my wife had not come to. The third such appointment for couples counseling that I attended singly. In the eight years we had been together, I had learned (poorly) that when my spouse was in this angry place that the best thing to do was to give her space. I sucked at it. I wanted to fix things. I wanted her to feel better.. and I wanted to do whatever I could to help her feel better. But I couldn't. The only way for her to feel better was to leave her be. And that was hard.
I was at a transition point in my life. About to embark on a new job in a new career that I was scared about, but excited about, too. At that moment in time, though, I had no employment obligations and this new career was likely to be all-time-consuming with little to no opportunity for future vacation and I had never driven across country, and really wanted to do so. The lease to the car was about to expire, and since I had stopped the 100 mile daily commute two years earlier, we had plenty of miles pre-paid to spare.
So I got home from counseling, packed up the trunk, and took off across the country. It was a wonderful trip in so many ways, but bittersweet given the circumstances that partly inspired it.
I had a lot of time on the road to think. I needed it, too. And I have to say that my faith in God grew much stronger on this trip. Against all odds, frankly. I remember driving through mountain passes and asking - out loud - what am I supposed to do?
I created this road trip play list my second day in when I was at the hotel at night in New Mexico. In addition to good songs to keep me awake while I drove, I filled it half with love songs and half with "she done me wrong" songs to try and figure out which songs were calling to me more. Seriously. And the love songs were the ones that continued to call to my heart. I loved her. More deeply than I could have ever imagined. Even though she was crazy and driving me crazy and pushing me away.
I loved her. And that was the underlying message I received, at some level, was to just love her. To open my heart wider and love her.
I spent a year and a half doing that, my heart open as wide as it could be, and so when I walked away - when I finally had to walk away, I was done. I was done grieving the relationship that once was. And so, now, when I think back about my ex - and when I have over the last three years, mostly what I feel is numb. Sometimes, I have even wondered whether I really did love her. I had put everything that belonged to her, everything that I had given her that she had literally and figuratively thrown back into my face, and put it into a steel box in my heart that was well protected and from which I was well protected.
When I think about what I was grieving the last three and a half years, it wasn't her. It was my life. It was everything I gave up and left behind. And I never quite knew what to make of it - I kind of thought I should be missing *her* more and aching for *her* more, but I accepted that I didn't because I had already grieved her. And I do believe it. But every once in awhile it made me wonder if maybe I hadn't loved her like I thought I did.
Last night, for some reason (God?) I pulled out my old iPod and recharged it. This morning, for some reason (God?), I decided to bring it into my contract place to listen to while I worked. And I knew that the best of my music was pulled together in this Road Trip play list, so I selected it and hit play.
It started with simple old country with Alabama belting out "High Cotton", (Old times there are not forgotten..) and moved onto other songs that pulled at the strings of my memory. I smiled listening to "At the Zoo" by Simon and Garfunkel, started moving to "Move It" by Baja, remembered romantic evenings from college listening to old Tracy Chapman and Indigo Girls. It was an amusing musical trip down memory lane. I was figuratively patting myself on my back for having such great music. There were some tear-jerkers that I resisted being pulled too deeply into - "Bad Goodbye" with Clint and Wynonna, for example - mostly because they had applied to other relationships, too.
I was just zipping along and enjoying the day's soundtrack - my life's soundtrack - until The Promise by Tracy Chapman came on.
Oh, that song... Five minutes and 28 seconds of heart-tug for me. I think I may have even purchased the CD with that song on it while on the road trip, but I won't swear to it. But I played that song on repeat for hours. Particularly when I was away from my spouse, hoping that she would wait for me...
"If you wait for me.... then I'll come for you....although I've travelled far. I always hold a place for you in my heart..."
Over and over.. "If you think of me... if you miss me once in awhile, then I'll return to you..." I wanted so badly for her to tell me she missed me, for her to want me to return to her while I was on that trip.
"Remembering, your touch, your kiss, your warm embrace... I'll find my way back to you... if you'll be waiting..."
Over and over, hours and hours.. the song just encompassed everything that I wanted when I was on that trip. Everything that I was willing to give to her.... "in a place where I can feel the beating of your heart...."
"Together again.. it would feel so good to be in your arms. Where all my journeys end. If you can make a promise. If it's one that you can keep. I vow to come for you. If you wait for me. And say you'll hold a place for me in your heart."
And with those opening strums of the guitar, the bow across the violin, I was reminded today how very deeply I loved her. How very much I wanted her to have a place for me in her heart.
Generally, these days, if you ask me about the woman I left behind, I speak about it all with much distance. I have grieved the loss of her and I have long since learned to live my life without her in it. It is easy for me - for you - to dismiss the importance she once held for me because I don't feel it now - I can't feel it now. But today, I was reminded. I once loved her very deeply - and all I wanted was for her to make room for me and want me to return to her. And back then, I was willing to wait for her, too...
But that is an aside.
I took a trip across country in 2007, and the old clunky 20 GB white iPod died. Pfft. Done. Couldn't be revived. And it was horrible at the time because I was driving long days - going from friend to friend. My father replaced it at Christmas that year with a first generation iPod Touch (with LESS memory) which has mostly been replaced by my iPhone.
All of the above is mostly verbal vomit dancing around the real topic of this post.
At some point, after Dad bought me the iTouch, I was surprised to discover the white iPod worked. Still to this day no idea why. But now I have this little (relatively heavy) archive of music I used to listen to.
When I took off on that cross country trip, it was after having had a marriage counseling appointment that my wife had not come to. The third such appointment for couples counseling that I attended singly. In the eight years we had been together, I had learned (poorly) that when my spouse was in this angry place that the best thing to do was to give her space. I sucked at it. I wanted to fix things. I wanted her to feel better.. and I wanted to do whatever I could to help her feel better. But I couldn't. The only way for her to feel better was to leave her be. And that was hard.
I was at a transition point in my life. About to embark on a new job in a new career that I was scared about, but excited about, too. At that moment in time, though, I had no employment obligations and this new career was likely to be all-time-consuming with little to no opportunity for future vacation and I had never driven across country, and really wanted to do so. The lease to the car was about to expire, and since I had stopped the 100 mile daily commute two years earlier, we had plenty of miles pre-paid to spare.
So I got home from counseling, packed up the trunk, and took off across the country. It was a wonderful trip in so many ways, but bittersweet given the circumstances that partly inspired it.
I had a lot of time on the road to think. I needed it, too. And I have to say that my faith in God grew much stronger on this trip. Against all odds, frankly. I remember driving through mountain passes and asking - out loud - what am I supposed to do?
I created this road trip play list my second day in when I was at the hotel at night in New Mexico. In addition to good songs to keep me awake while I drove, I filled it half with love songs and half with "she done me wrong" songs to try and figure out which songs were calling to me more. Seriously. And the love songs were the ones that continued to call to my heart. I loved her. More deeply than I could have ever imagined. Even though she was crazy and driving me crazy and pushing me away.
I loved her. And that was the underlying message I received, at some level, was to just love her. To open my heart wider and love her.
I spent a year and a half doing that, my heart open as wide as it could be, and so when I walked away - when I finally had to walk away, I was done. I was done grieving the relationship that once was. And so, now, when I think back about my ex - and when I have over the last three years, mostly what I feel is numb. Sometimes, I have even wondered whether I really did love her. I had put everything that belonged to her, everything that I had given her that she had literally and figuratively thrown back into my face, and put it into a steel box in my heart that was well protected and from which I was well protected.
When I think about what I was grieving the last three and a half years, it wasn't her. It was my life. It was everything I gave up and left behind. And I never quite knew what to make of it - I kind of thought I should be missing *her* more and aching for *her* more, but I accepted that I didn't because I had already grieved her. And I do believe it. But every once in awhile it made me wonder if maybe I hadn't loved her like I thought I did.
Last night, for some reason (God?) I pulled out my old iPod and recharged it. This morning, for some reason (God?), I decided to bring it into my contract place to listen to while I worked. And I knew that the best of my music was pulled together in this Road Trip play list, so I selected it and hit play.
It started with simple old country with Alabama belting out "High Cotton", (Old times there are not forgotten..) and moved onto other songs that pulled at the strings of my memory. I smiled listening to "At the Zoo" by Simon and Garfunkel, started moving to "Move It" by Baja, remembered romantic evenings from college listening to old Tracy Chapman and Indigo Girls. It was an amusing musical trip down memory lane. I was figuratively patting myself on my back for having such great music. There were some tear-jerkers that I resisted being pulled too deeply into - "Bad Goodbye" with Clint and Wynonna, for example - mostly because they had applied to other relationships, too.
I was just zipping along and enjoying the day's soundtrack - my life's soundtrack - until The Promise by Tracy Chapman came on.
Oh, that song... Five minutes and 28 seconds of heart-tug for me. I think I may have even purchased the CD with that song on it while on the road trip, but I won't swear to it. But I played that song on repeat for hours. Particularly when I was away from my spouse, hoping that she would wait for me...
"If you wait for me.... then I'll come for you....although I've travelled far. I always hold a place for you in my heart..."
Over and over.. "If you think of me... if you miss me once in awhile, then I'll return to you..." I wanted so badly for her to tell me she missed me, for her to want me to return to her while I was on that trip.
"Remembering, your touch, your kiss, your warm embrace... I'll find my way back to you... if you'll be waiting..."
Over and over, hours and hours.. the song just encompassed everything that I wanted when I was on that trip. Everything that I was willing to give to her.... "in a place where I can feel the beating of your heart...."
"Together again.. it would feel so good to be in your arms. Where all my journeys end. If you can make a promise. If it's one that you can keep. I vow to come for you. If you wait for me. And say you'll hold a place for me in your heart."
And with those opening strums of the guitar, the bow across the violin, I was reminded today how very deeply I loved her. How very much I wanted her to have a place for me in her heart.
Generally, these days, if you ask me about the woman I left behind, I speak about it all with much distance. I have grieved the loss of her and I have long since learned to live my life without her in it. It is easy for me - for you - to dismiss the importance she once held for me because I don't feel it now - I can't feel it now. But today, I was reminded. I once loved her very deeply - and all I wanted was for her to make room for me and want me to return to her. And back then, I was willing to wait for her, too...
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
An embarrassing confession...
Well, the confession isn't so embarrassing as the moment, and even that, in the larger scheme of things, isn't *THAT* embarrassing... except it is a little.
So, I told you a month or so ago that I put a sign on my wall. I live alone. I have few guests in my home, and sadly none that go into my bedroom. So whatever I post on the wall with blue painter's tape is pretty much guaranteed to be seen only by me.
And IF there is such an occasion when someone else might come by, well, a quick tug on the sign can always be done.
If I remember.
And if I notice.
My house is a hodge podge of remodelled and added on to parts. My bedroom, for example, is definitely not original, and is MUCH better insulated than most of the house. And it wasn't necessarily designed as a bedroom, given that what looks like a closet is actually where the furnace and hot water heater are.
So, when I came home recently from a weekend trip away, and discovered my furnace wasn't working, I called my landlord.
I did do a little tidying in the rest of the house, and made sure there was a clear easy path to the door to the room where the furnace is. Moved the trunk that usually sits in front of the door since it only gets opened a few times a year (at most).
And the landlord called a guy who does furnaces. And the furnace guy came.
And only after he had left, later that evening, did I notice that I still had the sign on the wall..
Oops.
I'm thinking if I didn't notice, maybe he didn't. But who knows?
And who knows what he thinks about a woman who isn't the most tidy with a sign in big black sharpie that says, "Before I go to bed at night, I will clean my sink!" Particularly when it was clear that the sink might have been (and it wasn't) the only thing that was clean...
Oh well.
Back to your original program now...
So, I told you a month or so ago that I put a sign on my wall. I live alone. I have few guests in my home, and sadly none that go into my bedroom. So whatever I post on the wall with blue painter's tape is pretty much guaranteed to be seen only by me.
And IF there is such an occasion when someone else might come by, well, a quick tug on the sign can always be done.
If I remember.
And if I notice.
My house is a hodge podge of remodelled and added on to parts. My bedroom, for example, is definitely not original, and is MUCH better insulated than most of the house. And it wasn't necessarily designed as a bedroom, given that what looks like a closet is actually where the furnace and hot water heater are.
So, when I came home recently from a weekend trip away, and discovered my furnace wasn't working, I called my landlord.
I did do a little tidying in the rest of the house, and made sure there was a clear easy path to the door to the room where the furnace is. Moved the trunk that usually sits in front of the door since it only gets opened a few times a year (at most).
And the landlord called a guy who does furnaces. And the furnace guy came.
And only after he had left, later that evening, did I notice that I still had the sign on the wall..
Oops.
I'm thinking if I didn't notice, maybe he didn't. But who knows?
And who knows what he thinks about a woman who isn't the most tidy with a sign in big black sharpie that says, "Before I go to bed at night, I will clean my sink!" Particularly when it was clear that the sink might have been (and it wasn't) the only thing that was clean...
Oh well.
Back to your original program now...
Sock Alley
I have been writing way too many serious posts lately, and think it's overdue to share something silly with you instead.
So, my bed is basically the width of my nightstand away from one of the walls. And even though there's this wide open area on the other side to get in and out of my bed, for some strange reason, I find myself crawling into and out of bed closest to the wall, and end up sleeping more on that side-ish than on the other. I kinda sleep in the middle of the bed, but lean more towards the wall side.
I'm sure those who love to analyze things could come up with all sorts of insights about this information - and some of you, intent on tracking me down, could use this vital information to pinpoint specifically WHO I am. I worry about these things... Well, no. Not really... but it's fun to tease some of you.
In the meantime... I used to be a person who would ALWAYS wear socks. ALWAYS. Even when I wasn't wearing anything else, and doing things, that, um, most people wouldn't expect socks to be worn. I thought of it as my trademark. Well, no, not really - but if women were trading notes about me, I'm sure that would have been one of the things they'd mention. That, and a particular mole in a particular spot... but, I digress.
At some point in time, and I don't remember when, I stopped so religiously needing my socks on. In fact, I frequently find myself pushing socks off in bed and kicking them to the bottom of the bed... It is guaranteed, then, that when you change my sheets, there will probably be a sock or two (okay, or more) in the sheets. It's only been in the last few years that this has happened.
Now, however, I have mastered the sweep kick. You know the one. The one whereby - either conscious or unconscious - I sweep my leg across the bottom of the bed, and kick out all those pesky socks that have been gathering. I don't get them all. But I get many of them.
For those of you new to the Borg Blog - I am single and I live alone, and I am NOT OCD tidy. Not by a long shot. I'm not growing cultures - well, at least not outside the fridge - and I would say that there is a greater percentage of floor space that is free and open than what is not. Counter and table space - well.. I can't make the same claim. But where I'm going with this is that, the picture I am painting, is that I'm not about to quickly pick up the used socks and put them into the hamper.
So, the point is, that I noticed the other day that the space between my bed and the wall has kinda become sock alley. There are socks of various colors (all the same size - they're all mine) strewn across the lane like leaves falling from trees in this space between my bed and the wall.
Yeah. That's it. That's the whole point of this silly post. To share Sock Alley with you.
You are welcome. ;)
So, my bed is basically the width of my nightstand away from one of the walls. And even though there's this wide open area on the other side to get in and out of my bed, for some strange reason, I find myself crawling into and out of bed closest to the wall, and end up sleeping more on that side-ish than on the other. I kinda sleep in the middle of the bed, but lean more towards the wall side.
I'm sure those who love to analyze things could come up with all sorts of insights about this information - and some of you, intent on tracking me down, could use this vital information to pinpoint specifically WHO I am. I worry about these things... Well, no. Not really... but it's fun to tease some of you.
In the meantime... I used to be a person who would ALWAYS wear socks. ALWAYS. Even when I wasn't wearing anything else, and doing things, that, um, most people wouldn't expect socks to be worn. I thought of it as my trademark. Well, no, not really - but if women were trading notes about me, I'm sure that would have been one of the things they'd mention. That, and a particular mole in a particular spot... but, I digress.
At some point in time, and I don't remember when, I stopped so religiously needing my socks on. In fact, I frequently find myself pushing socks off in bed and kicking them to the bottom of the bed... It is guaranteed, then, that when you change my sheets, there will probably be a sock or two (okay, or more) in the sheets. It's only been in the last few years that this has happened.
Now, however, I have mastered the sweep kick. You know the one. The one whereby - either conscious or unconscious - I sweep my leg across the bottom of the bed, and kick out all those pesky socks that have been gathering. I don't get them all. But I get many of them.
For those of you new to the Borg Blog - I am single and I live alone, and I am NOT OCD tidy. Not by a long shot. I'm not growing cultures - well, at least not outside the fridge - and I would say that there is a greater percentage of floor space that is free and open than what is not. Counter and table space - well.. I can't make the same claim. But where I'm going with this is that, the picture I am painting, is that I'm not about to quickly pick up the used socks and put them into the hamper.
So, the point is, that I noticed the other day that the space between my bed and the wall has kinda become sock alley. There are socks of various colors (all the same size - they're all mine) strewn across the lane like leaves falling from trees in this space between my bed and the wall.
Yeah. That's it. That's the whole point of this silly post. To share Sock Alley with you.
You are welcome. ;)
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Awards and Accolades!
Okay. If any of you knew me IRL and went to my notes in Facebook, you would see that I have never answered the ABCs of me, or any of that stuff. Mostly because I think it's a mining expedition for identity theft. And even the questions that my fellow blogger, Chemgirljaime, answered (your porn star name) also bordered on identity theft to promote my point. But, I have decided to set aside my curmudgeon ways for one brief moment because none of her questions would promote identity theft, and even if they did, you don't know my identity, so it would be harder for you to steal it anyway. None of them give up my identity... (Jenga and all that).
So there's this thing going around bloggers called the Liebster Award (and I just naturally think Lobster award in my head when I read it, and wonder where the butter sauce is... probably insulting dear Mr. or Ms. Liebster for whom it was named...). And I apologize because I don't think Jaime is the first person to award it (or something like it to me), but she's persistent, and still believes in the good in the world and in other people - or at least me - and I don't have the heart to disillusion her at THIS moment in time. Y'know the excited puppy who just wants you to play ball with them... :) So, I'll play ball. I won't tell her how many hours Chinese kids had to work their fingers to the bone for pennies an hour to make the ball she wants to play with. I'll be nicer than that, and play along, instead.
Today.
So, like a chain letter, you're supposed to choose othervictims folks to award it to, and your own set of questions to answer for them. Even my friend acknowledges it is Blog Fodder in her post.
If someone really wants to be awarded the Liebster Award, e-mail me, and I'll fix the contest with the judges, and make sure you have an award of your very own.
If not.. well...
1. If you had the choice to know when you were going to die or not to know, what would you choose? I don't need to know when I'll die. It will happen when it will happen. Knowing about it doesn't change that. Although, separately, for an interesting perspective on that, check out the cancelled series from ABC - Flash Forward. You can find it on Hulu...
2. Favorite flavor of ice cream? Strawberry cheesecake from Cold Stone Creamery (although way too expensive)
3. Panda or Rhino? Which would I want as a pet? Which would I rather be? Who would I rather pet? Well, I think panda is the answer to any variation of whatever the question was supposed to be.
4. How many times a day do you swear? ..and if you don't swear... then wtf is wrong with you? You expect me to count? I have better things to do with my time. Like swear, I guess. ;)
5. If you could change one thing about yourself.. be it something about your personality or a part of your body... what would it be? I could always use more patience.
6. Favorite movie? There are a lot. The Notebook has certainly been one. There are several posts where I talk about some of my favorite movies.
7. Most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you.. or most embarrassing thing you've ever witnessed (if you're too chickenshit to share about yourself) Spending the night at a local bed and breakfast one summer night and therefore packing lightly (if rather non-existently) and wearing white shorts and getting my period unprepared. Pooping in my pants in Montessori school because the token we were supposed to use to go to the bathroom one at a time was already taken. I'm sure there are several other things, but those two should suffice the curious...
8. If you could be any kind of animal, mineral or vegetable on the planet (or any other planet).. what would you be? As I have left as a comment on Jaime's blog already, I already think I'm Venus, so...?
If anyone really wants to become tagged, I'll come up with some creative questions if I must. But just because I throw the ball for the puppy doesn't mean I have to be the one to retrieve it, does it? ;)
So there's this thing going around bloggers called the Liebster Award (and I just naturally think Lobster award in my head when I read it, and wonder where the butter sauce is... probably insulting dear Mr. or Ms. Liebster for whom it was named...). And I apologize because I don't think Jaime is the first person to award it (or something like it to me), but she's persistent, and still believes in the good in the world and in other people - or at least me - and I don't have the heart to disillusion her at THIS moment in time. Y'know the excited puppy who just wants you to play ball with them... :) So, I'll play ball. I won't tell her how many hours Chinese kids had to work their fingers to the bone for pennies an hour to make the ball she wants to play with. I'll be nicer than that, and play along, instead.
Today.
So, like a chain letter, you're supposed to choose other
If someone really wants to be awarded the Liebster Award, e-mail me, and I'll fix the contest with the judges, and make sure you have an award of your very own.
If not.. well...
1. If you had the choice to know when you were going to die or not to know, what would you choose? I don't need to know when I'll die. It will happen when it will happen. Knowing about it doesn't change that. Although, separately, for an interesting perspective on that, check out the cancelled series from ABC - Flash Forward. You can find it on Hulu...
2. Favorite flavor of ice cream? Strawberry cheesecake from Cold Stone Creamery (although way too expensive)
3. Panda or Rhino? Which would I want as a pet? Which would I rather be? Who would I rather pet? Well, I think panda is the answer to any variation of whatever the question was supposed to be.
4. How many times a day do you swear? ..and if you don't swear... then wtf is wrong with you? You expect me to count? I have better things to do with my time. Like swear, I guess. ;)
5. If you could change one thing about yourself.. be it something about your personality or a part of your body... what would it be? I could always use more patience.
6. Favorite movie? There are a lot. The Notebook has certainly been one. There are several posts where I talk about some of my favorite movies.
7. Most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you.. or most embarrassing thing you've ever witnessed (if you're too chickenshit to share about yourself) Spending the night at a local bed and breakfast one summer night and therefore packing lightly (if rather non-existently) and wearing white shorts and getting my period unprepared. Pooping in my pants in Montessori school because the token we were supposed to use to go to the bathroom one at a time was already taken. I'm sure there are several other things, but those two should suffice the curious...
8. If you could be any kind of animal, mineral or vegetable on the planet (or any other planet).. what would you be? As I have left as a comment on Jaime's blog already, I already think I'm Venus, so...?
If anyone really wants to become tagged, I'll come up with some creative questions if I must. But just because I throw the ball for the puppy doesn't mean I have to be the one to retrieve it, does it? ;)
Friday, October 26, 2012
The Not So Fuzzy Details
From my friend Hetty.. See last post for the fuzzy version, cautionary tale, and plea for help. (On phone now will update later with link, but you can navigate!)
If you want to provide update, I will give you some information if you want to share.
what i have is a cerebral csf leak. when they were doing the original surgery to fix my septum they found a deterioration of my skull (bone) which was literally a hole in my head the size of a golf ball. a second surgery got it down to a pencil point or a bit smaller than an eraser head. the leak continues. the "headaches" which are spinal headaches (much more severe than migraines) are 24/7 as you know and typically at a level 4-5 consistently, but spike to 10+ if I have been vertical for too long, or if the weather changes, or if i've overexerted, or just because......
since the head trauma in 1999 (undiagnosed skull fracture) that just grew larger from the "rotting infection" that was building in my head and the sinus blockage and infection was significant, they determined i have suffered many concussive episodes due to the lack of cerebral spinal fluid. one doctor described it as a roll being bounced around inside a concrete box. i was a runner for many of those years.....imagine that impact!
there are no guarantees that any procedure will be a permanent repair or that the bone wont deteriorate more - or again. there is a risk of meningitis,but i think compared to the risks of "opening my skull and pushing my brain out of the way to rebuild the bone", it is a minimal one. the other option is to repeat the surgeries they have already performed through the sinus cavity, again with no guarantee.
that should give you a clearer picture of what is happening with my swiss cheese brain.
If you want to provide update, I will give you some information if you want to share.
what i have is a cerebral csf leak. when they were doing the original surgery to fix my septum they found a deterioration of my skull (bone) which was literally a hole in my head the size of a golf ball. a second surgery got it down to a pencil point or a bit smaller than an eraser head. the leak continues. the "headaches" which are spinal headaches (much more severe than migraines) are 24/7 as you know and typically at a level 4-5 consistently, but spike to 10+ if I have been vertical for too long, or if the weather changes, or if i've overexerted, or just because......
since the head trauma in 1999 (undiagnosed skull fracture) that just grew larger from the "rotting infection" that was building in my head and the sinus blockage and infection was significant, they determined i have suffered many concussive episodes due to the lack of cerebral spinal fluid. one doctor described it as a roll being bounced around inside a concrete box. i was a runner for many of those years.....imagine that impact!
there are no guarantees that any procedure will be a permanent repair or that the bone wont deteriorate more - or again. there is a risk of meningitis,but i think compared to the risks of "opening my skull and pushing my brain out of the way to rebuild the bone", it is a minimal one. the other option is to repeat the surgeries they have already performed through the sinus cavity, again with no guarantee.
that should give you a clearer picture of what is happening with my swiss cheese brain.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Between a Rock and a Hard Place - One Cup at a Time
Alt. Title: Quack!
I have a friend of mine who has found herself between a rock and a hard place. And I write this post both as a cautionary tale, but also as a plea for help. Because frankly, this story breaks my heart, and I feel helpless, otherwise, to help her, so I am hoping that together we might be able to make a difference for someone who could really use it.
My friend was metaphorically hit by a truck last November. I am not a doctor, and I don't pretend to understand half of what she does choose to share with me regarding the details, and frankly, she's a fairly private person, so she doesn't share many of the details. But what details I can remember of provide have to do with several surgeries including on the thin membrane between sinuses and the brain - and I think - but maybe I made this up in my horror - brain fluid leaking into the sinuses. I know my imagination contrived what I think was a real possibility that she could sneeze out grey matter. Either way, apparently, that membrane does not heal itself and cannot be repaired. There were also complications from surgery, and further heart issues developing, although I'm not sure if those are related to the first part or something completely new just for fun.
Frankly, while all of the above is fuzzy, the pertinent detail is that she has had some significant health issues in the last twelve months and they are not yet resolved. The last recommendation by her doctor was that she should go visit some experts at the Mayo Clinic, and she was waiting to hear back from them when all of this happened.
At the time she was hit by the metaphoric truck, she was working in sales for a small-medium sized local company. She did what most of us would do, and took sick leave, and then vacation leave, and then her company did what most companies would do and put her FMLA leave. At one point she thought she was able to return to work, and I think the first time she did, she was back for a week and then some of those other complications mentioned above arose, and she had to take off again, and then exhausted her FMLA leave, but eventually returned to work with limited duty. (Again, some of these details may be off or not quite right, but the exact details or sequence frankly isn't important here, so bear with me that I have a fuzzy knowledge... ).
We actually went to lunch together on the day she finally returned to work in May. When she returned to the office, the IT guy was in her office and locking down her laptop, and asking for her phone. She was let go that day, and has been unemployed since.
Now, on these next details, I'm a little anxious to write out because I'm not sure what the current status of things are for her legally regarding unemployment and disability and I don't want to write the wrong thing and then have that used against her later. At first, she thought that she was capable to work - part of the reason she returned to work - but as time has gone on and medical issues have continued, it has become clear that she is not able to work.
For the first few months, her COBRA payments were being paid, but given her confirmed incapacity to work, she is not eligible for unemployment benefits, and if she were to apply for disability, she cannot apply before a year has passed (this next month) and apparently it takes up to eighteen months to process, all while receiving no payments. The source of payment for her COBRA payments has now ceased, and she feels that she has no choice but to let her COBRA lapse. She has no income.
This potential scares me to no end. Given her existing medical complications and issues, trying to get insurance again other than through an employer will be impossible or prohibitively expensive - and I don't pretend to understand the current status regarding exceptions for pre-existing conditions. Regardless of future insurance, she still needs medical treatment NOW. She needs to go to the Mayo Clinic NOW. She needs medications NOW. And she can't afford any of them.
The cautionary tale here is while the duck may seem cute in the AFLAC commercials, having short-term disability insurance is invaluable. Her company neither provided short-term or long-term disability insurance, so she has nothing now that she can rely on. She has depleted much of her savings, and would rather dedicate what remains to food on the table and a roof over her head. (This is why *I* don't have health insurance currently) If your employer offers you an option for short-term disability insurance, take it. And companies, if you can, offer your employees this opportunity, and provide long term disability insurance for them.
Because an unexpected health issue can destroy your life without them and make an already difficult situation that much harder by complicating the financial situation of someone who is already going through a difficult life-threatening condition.
I have prayed on this matter and would give her what little savings I have accrued in order to help cover her insurance. She is a proud woman who I know is still struggling to figure out how she got into this situation, but still determined, somehow, to take care of herself. *SHE* is not looking for hand-outs. She won't take my limited reserve. A month ago, I offered to do a community fundraiser for her but she didn't want to be seen as a victim (my words, not hers). She doesn't want to ask for help. She doesn't really want to take help that is already being given to her. But I don't want to see her have to handle the additional stress that all of this - and in particular going without health insurance - and what it will do to her.
She is one of my Jenga pieces and has already known about this blog. With still much reluctance, she has agreed to allow me to do a solicitation for her anonymously to help her pay her health insurance. Even that, neither of us feel particularly comfortable. But I hope by now, readers, you trust that I would not scam you.
But I am asking for your help. She's set up a PayPal account using the e-mail address lange.hetty@yahoo.com (Yes, she's an NCIS LA fan - apparently my real life friends choose CBS shows for their pseudonyms). I think that's all the identifying information you need to send money through PayPal, but if I am wrong, please advise. So, I ask you if you have a PayPal account*, to send her the cost of a cup of coffee you might otherwise spend today. Or a week's worth of coffees. I don't have *that* many readers, so I don't know if this will do anything more than cover another month of her health insurance, but I can't stand by and do nothing, and even then another miracle could occur with the additional time. Her situation breaks my heart, and while she doesn't want my pity, and really doesn't want my help, she can't do this alone.
So.. forgive me for asking, but if you can help, it would be appreciated. If you can re-tweet this post or put it on Facebook, to widen the audience, then maybe we can work a miracle. Certainly, if you are able, and willing to provide more, it would be wonderful - but I know that times are tight for us all, many around us are in need, and I am asking you to take on faith the story of my friend. So I won't ask for more than a cup of coffee - or a week of coffee, but I don't want to discourage those of you who can and would do more.
Over to the right, at the top, there is a link to share on various social media. Please do so. Please encourage your friends to do so. Let's make a difference. One cup at a time.
Thank you.
* I think PayPal will also take payments from other forms, too, such as credit cards, but I am not familiar with it.
P.S. If this is your first time to my blog, welcome. Thank you for your kindness, and I hope you will stick around and check it out. Not all of my posts are quite so heart wrenching! :)
I have a friend of mine who has found herself between a rock and a hard place. And I write this post both as a cautionary tale, but also as a plea for help. Because frankly, this story breaks my heart, and I feel helpless, otherwise, to help her, so I am hoping that together we might be able to make a difference for someone who could really use it.
My friend was metaphorically hit by a truck last November. I am not a doctor, and I don't pretend to understand half of what she does choose to share with me regarding the details, and frankly, she's a fairly private person, so she doesn't share many of the details. But what details I can remember of provide have to do with several surgeries including on the thin membrane between sinuses and the brain - and I think - but maybe I made this up in my horror - brain fluid leaking into the sinuses. I know my imagination contrived what I think was a real possibility that she could sneeze out grey matter. Either way, apparently, that membrane does not heal itself and cannot be repaired. There were also complications from surgery, and further heart issues developing, although I'm not sure if those are related to the first part or something completely new just for fun.
Frankly, while all of the above is fuzzy, the pertinent detail is that she has had some significant health issues in the last twelve months and they are not yet resolved. The last recommendation by her doctor was that she should go visit some experts at the Mayo Clinic, and she was waiting to hear back from them when all of this happened.
At the time she was hit by the metaphoric truck, she was working in sales for a small-medium sized local company. She did what most of us would do, and took sick leave, and then vacation leave, and then her company did what most companies would do and put her FMLA leave. At one point she thought she was able to return to work, and I think the first time she did, she was back for a week and then some of those other complications mentioned above arose, and she had to take off again, and then exhausted her FMLA leave, but eventually returned to work with limited duty. (Again, some of these details may be off or not quite right, but the exact details or sequence frankly isn't important here, so bear with me that I have a fuzzy knowledge... ).
We actually went to lunch together on the day she finally returned to work in May. When she returned to the office, the IT guy was in her office and locking down her laptop, and asking for her phone. She was let go that day, and has been unemployed since.
Now, on these next details, I'm a little anxious to write out because I'm not sure what the current status of things are for her legally regarding unemployment and disability and I don't want to write the wrong thing and then have that used against her later. At first, she thought that she was capable to work - part of the reason she returned to work - but as time has gone on and medical issues have continued, it has become clear that she is not able to work.
For the first few months, her COBRA payments were being paid, but given her confirmed incapacity to work, she is not eligible for unemployment benefits, and if she were to apply for disability, she cannot apply before a year has passed (this next month) and apparently it takes up to eighteen months to process, all while receiving no payments. The source of payment for her COBRA payments has now ceased, and she feels that she has no choice but to let her COBRA lapse. She has no income.
This potential scares me to no end. Given her existing medical complications and issues, trying to get insurance again other than through an employer will be impossible or prohibitively expensive - and I don't pretend to understand the current status regarding exceptions for pre-existing conditions. Regardless of future insurance, she still needs medical treatment NOW. She needs to go to the Mayo Clinic NOW. She needs medications NOW. And she can't afford any of them.
The cautionary tale here is while the duck may seem cute in the AFLAC commercials, having short-term disability insurance is invaluable. Her company neither provided short-term or long-term disability insurance, so she has nothing now that she can rely on. She has depleted much of her savings, and would rather dedicate what remains to food on the table and a roof over her head. (This is why *I* don't have health insurance currently) If your employer offers you an option for short-term disability insurance, take it. And companies, if you can, offer your employees this opportunity, and provide long term disability insurance for them.
Because an unexpected health issue can destroy your life without them and make an already difficult situation that much harder by complicating the financial situation of someone who is already going through a difficult life-threatening condition.
I have prayed on this matter and would give her what little savings I have accrued in order to help cover her insurance. She is a proud woman who I know is still struggling to figure out how she got into this situation, but still determined, somehow, to take care of herself. *SHE* is not looking for hand-outs. She won't take my limited reserve. A month ago, I offered to do a community fundraiser for her but she didn't want to be seen as a victim (my words, not hers). She doesn't want to ask for help. She doesn't really want to take help that is already being given to her. But I don't want to see her have to handle the additional stress that all of this - and in particular going without health insurance - and what it will do to her.
She is one of my Jenga pieces and has already known about this blog. With still much reluctance, she has agreed to allow me to do a solicitation for her anonymously to help her pay her health insurance. Even that, neither of us feel particularly comfortable. But I hope by now, readers, you trust that I would not scam you.
But I am asking for your help. She's set up a PayPal account using the e-mail address lange.hetty@yahoo.com (Yes, she's an NCIS LA fan - apparently my real life friends choose CBS shows for their pseudonyms). I think that's all the identifying information you need to send money through PayPal, but if I am wrong, please advise. So, I ask you if you have a PayPal account*, to send her the cost of a cup of coffee you might otherwise spend today. Or a week's worth of coffees. I don't have *that* many readers, so I don't know if this will do anything more than cover another month of her health insurance, but I can't stand by and do nothing, and even then another miracle could occur with the additional time. Her situation breaks my heart, and while she doesn't want my pity, and really doesn't want my help, she can't do this alone.
So.. forgive me for asking, but if you can help, it would be appreciated. If you can re-tweet this post or put it on Facebook, to widen the audience, then maybe we can work a miracle. Certainly, if you are able, and willing to provide more, it would be wonderful - but I know that times are tight for us all, many around us are in need, and I am asking you to take on faith the story of my friend. So I won't ask for more than a cup of coffee - or a week of coffee, but I don't want to discourage those of you who can and would do more.
Over to the right, at the top, there is a link to share on various social media. Please do so. Please encourage your friends to do so. Let's make a difference. One cup at a time.
Thank you.
* I think PayPal will also take payments from other forms, too, such as credit cards, but I am not familiar with it.
P.S. If this is your first time to my blog, welcome. Thank you for your kindness, and I hope you will stick around and check it out. Not all of my posts are quite so heart wrenching! :)
Friday, October 19, 2012
Looking out the bars...
So, I am in Twitter jail. Again!
This time, though, I can see out the bars and watch the people talking about me. And I can send messages to friends, er, followers, but I can't send direct messages to those who don't....
It's a whole new level of TwitterJail. Just watching helplessly, trying to mount your defense, but being kept from those witnesses you think can help.
Okay, maybe it's not quite like that.
Tonight I used Tweetdeck for the first time for #wineparty. Back in early June I was given the suggesting of Tweetdeck and Hootsuite as alternatives to using my iPhone for #wineparty. I opened up Hootsuite first, and while I also opened up Tweetdeck at the time, to my untrained and unexperienced eye, they looked the same.
And both, frankly, took my breath away, and I spent WAY too much time customizing and figuring it out. I stuck with Hootsuite because I couldn't appreciate the differences not knowing what I was doing.
But while I could now SEE #wineparty in a separate column on Hootsuite - and still watch my mentions - (different than my unmentionables!), I could never expand a conversation. That's driven me nuts all summer - because I felt like I was just catching snippets of conversation over the din, and had a hard time diving into the conversations.
Tweetdeck is fantastic! Tweetdeck gives you "streams" like in Hootsuite, so you can watch multiple lines of chatter, er, tweeting, but you can actually expand and see the whole conversation not just the final tweet for #wineparty (you could do it in other streams on Hootsuite, just not hashtag streams, it seems).
Oh, I'm in love.
And, um, in jail.
Oops!
This time, though, I can see out the bars and watch the people talking about me. And I can send messages to friends, er, followers, but I can't send direct messages to those who don't....
It's a whole new level of TwitterJail. Just watching helplessly, trying to mount your defense, but being kept from those witnesses you think can help.
Okay, maybe it's not quite like that.
Tonight I used Tweetdeck for the first time for #wineparty. Back in early June I was given the suggesting of Tweetdeck and Hootsuite as alternatives to using my iPhone for #wineparty. I opened up Hootsuite first, and while I also opened up Tweetdeck at the time, to my untrained and unexperienced eye, they looked the same.
And both, frankly, took my breath away, and I spent WAY too much time customizing and figuring it out. I stuck with Hootsuite because I couldn't appreciate the differences not knowing what I was doing.
But while I could now SEE #wineparty in a separate column on Hootsuite - and still watch my mentions - (different than my unmentionables!), I could never expand a conversation. That's driven me nuts all summer - because I felt like I was just catching snippets of conversation over the din, and had a hard time diving into the conversations.
Tweetdeck is fantastic! Tweetdeck gives you "streams" like in Hootsuite, so you can watch multiple lines of chatter, er, tweeting, but you can actually expand and see the whole conversation not just the final tweet for #wineparty (you could do it in other streams on Hootsuite, just not hashtag streams, it seems).
Oh, I'm in love.
And, um, in jail.
Oops!
Abby Got It Wrong
I love Dear Abby. Apparently. It's one of the few things I read daily. I actually have a great interest in advice columns, generally - if I could get more sent to my mailbox rather than having to track them on their newspapers - I'd read more. I'm lazy. But that's a side-note. I love the slice of life.
I was reading Dear Abby two days ago (October 17th's column), and I felt like she got it wrong to both letters. It happens sometimes. The full text for both is at the end of this. I'm too lazy to track down the actual link, I admit, this morning. I get it in my e-mail box as I said.
Nothing a Box of Condoms Can't Solve
The first letter is about a step-mother concerned about the sexual activity of her 15 year old stepson, or rather his natural parents' response to it. He's having unprotected sex. It sounds like for the most part none of the parties, including the letter writer, have so much of an issue with the boy having sex - boys will be boys - so that's not an issue to focus on here, or there. That's just a given.
The letter writer is concerned about the normal things you should be concerned about ANYONE having unprotected sex. STDs, unwanted parenthood... and feels between a rock and a hard place because her husband doesn't seem to worry about it and the mother hasn't done anything either. She's wondering if she's over-reacting, and Abby assures her she isn't.
There are some questions - unanswered here - about a relationship between a step-parent and child and their responsibility to nonetheless parent them. There are some questions about how long they have been in this relationship of step-parent / step-child and what kind of relationship, then, that they have. Whether she has the rapport, position, and relationship to act like a parent. And those can be touchy issues - and she touches on them when she's concerned about upsetting her husband in doing anything.
Abby agrees that she's not over-reacting, but basically says unless the husband / father does something, nothing can be done, and the boy will play baby-roulette.
Really, Abby? I understand encouraging her to have a talk with the boy may be over-stepping her bounds, although that might be a good start for her to sit down and explain her own concerns to him one-on-one. But frankly, okay, again I can respect that might not go over well with Dad (although....?), the solution is simple. Go to the drug-store. Buy an economy-size box of condoms, and leave them on his bed. MAYBE the reason the boy is having unprotected sex is that he's too embarrassed to go to the drug store and buy some? Or can't afford them? I understand young boys seem to find condoms anyway, but maybe give him a big hint and a big box of condoms. Duh!?
Now, again, I say this because it appears from her letter the issue isn't him having sex, merely having unprotected sex. If the issue were him having sex, or the parents not wanting to deal with, encourage, or otherwise address sex at all, then maybe that might be inappropriate.
What's The Big Deal With Letting Them Hang Free?
No, not talking balls here. Although I understand with the transition, you could go there. There, yes, there is something with letting them all hang out.
The second letter I have a real issue with - personally - because if I were young and dating a guy named Daryl, she could be talking about me. Oh, and if my name were Michelle.
The second letter writer is concerned about her son's young girlfriend's support / clothing choices. Michelle is sweet, caring, smart and funny. (See why I thought she might be writing about me?) But *gasp* doesn't wear a bra. And she isn't flat chested. Yep. Except for Daryl and the being young thing, describes me to a T.
WTF? Okay. I can understand having issue with it if she wears really tight shirts and her headbeams are on (sorry.. immature streak coming through there) all the time, leaving nothing to the imagination. But even wearing a bra doesn't guarantee that nips won't poke through. Personally, I always wear an undershirt to keep the girls from pointing in all directions, and even then...
But I have had several friends amazed that I don't wear a bra, and somehow concerned? The girls might drag? They ain't at my belly button yet. And anyone who has played with them has never complained. I don't have any particular desire for them to be perky, and really they haven't since they were little buds when I was 13. My breasts are fine.
I get questions like doesn't it hurt to not wear a bra? Well, um, if it did, I probably would wear a bra, now wouldn't I?
Abby suggested a polite conversation at lunch and an offer to go lingerie shopping.
I've been bra shopping with my friends - and even bought a bra to satiate them, but I wear it very infrequently. I will wear sports bras, only because the girls don't need to develop muscles going up and down, too. But really only when running. I don't need one for cycling, or other exercise.
But even suggesting "lingerie" shopping belies an underlying "purpose" for bras - as something sexy underneath. Really?
I admit the twitterpool is a bit skewed for scientific inquiry, but I've met a lot of women on here who go bra-less on a regular basis - not just #wineparty - and a lot who wish they could. I don't criticize those who choose to wear bras, and I understand many do *need* to - again, had Abby said "support" shopping, I'd have a different response to THAT part - so why criticize (and it's only women who give a damn) those of us who don't? Jealousy? Are men really that unable to control themselves around a bra-less woman? I've never had any issues...
Who knows...
Not me.
But we're all allowed an off day. Even Abby.
-------------------------
DEAR ABBY: My 15-year-old stepson, "Justin," doesn't drink or do drugs. For the most part, he stays out of trouble. The problem is, he has been caught for the third time having unprotected sex.
My anger isn't at Justin so much as at his parents, obviously his father. Justin has lied repeatedly about this. His father lets him get away with many things, for the most part minor. But this is different. A 15-year-old boy can't take care of a baby, and having sex with multiple partners means exposing everyone involved to STDs.
My husband is a smart man, but for some reason he seems to think this will end well. I worry about his son becoming a father too soon and missing out on his full potential. My husband and his ex have dealt with this by trying to ignore it, and for the most part I haven't involved myself. But the more I think about it, the more I see the danger of Justin's life being changed forever because his parents don't want to make him unhappy for a minute.
I love my husband and stepson. Allowing this to continue isn't the right path for anyone. Am I overreacting? If not, what can I do that won't cause a huge blowup with my husband? -- ALARMED IN CHICAGO
DEAR ALARMED: You're not overreacting. Your husband is doing his son no favors by enabling his irresponsible behavior instead of asserting himself and acting like a parent. Justin may think that fathering a
child will make him a "real man." But unless your husband can get through to him that real men take care of themselves and their partners, and real men don't risk bringing children into the world theycan't take care of, then face it: He's letting his son play baby roulette, and it's only a matter of time until he'll be a grandpa.
______________________________
DEAR ABBY: My son has a wonderful girlfriend, "Michelle." They live with my ex-husband and visit my husband, "Daryl," and me twice a month and on special occasions. Michelle is sweet, caring, smart and funny.
The problem is, she doesn't wear a bra. Ever.
Relatives have commented about it to us at family gatherings because she's not flat-chested. We already know. It's obvious. Daryl feels a woman should go without a bra only in the privacy of her own home, and I agree. He thinks I should buy Michelle a bra as a "subtle hint." I don't think that's wise, and I don't want to offend her.
Because it doesn't seem to matter to my son, should we continue to keep our opinions to ourselves? -- SEES A NEED FOR SUPPORT IN FLORIDA
DEAR SEES A NEED: Because people are talking, it would be a kindness to say something to Michelle -- but delicately, so she doesn't think you are criticizing her. If you have a good relationship with her, invite her to join you for lunch and, while you're on the subject of the last gathering, mention that some of the relatives noticed her bralessness.
Then tell her that you need to go lingerie shopping and invite her along. Ask her to help you pick out a few pretty things for yourself, and then offer to treat her to some things she likes. She just may take you up on it.
I was reading Dear Abby two days ago (October 17th's column), and I felt like she got it wrong to both letters. It happens sometimes. The full text for both is at the end of this. I'm too lazy to track down the actual link, I admit, this morning. I get it in my e-mail box as I said.
Nothing a Box of Condoms Can't Solve
The first letter is about a step-mother concerned about the sexual activity of her 15 year old stepson, or rather his natural parents' response to it. He's having unprotected sex. It sounds like for the most part none of the parties, including the letter writer, have so much of an issue with the boy having sex - boys will be boys - so that's not an issue to focus on here, or there. That's just a given.
The letter writer is concerned about the normal things you should be concerned about ANYONE having unprotected sex. STDs, unwanted parenthood... and feels between a rock and a hard place because her husband doesn't seem to worry about it and the mother hasn't done anything either. She's wondering if she's over-reacting, and Abby assures her she isn't.
There are some questions - unanswered here - about a relationship between a step-parent and child and their responsibility to nonetheless parent them. There are some questions about how long they have been in this relationship of step-parent / step-child and what kind of relationship, then, that they have. Whether she has the rapport, position, and relationship to act like a parent. And those can be touchy issues - and she touches on them when she's concerned about upsetting her husband in doing anything.
Abby agrees that she's not over-reacting, but basically says unless the husband / father does something, nothing can be done, and the boy will play baby-roulette.
Really, Abby? I understand encouraging her to have a talk with the boy may be over-stepping her bounds, although that might be a good start for her to sit down and explain her own concerns to him one-on-one. But frankly, okay, again I can respect that might not go over well with Dad (although....?), the solution is simple. Go to the drug-store. Buy an economy-size box of condoms, and leave them on his bed. MAYBE the reason the boy is having unprotected sex is that he's too embarrassed to go to the drug store and buy some? Or can't afford them? I understand young boys seem to find condoms anyway, but maybe give him a big hint and a big box of condoms. Duh!?
Now, again, I say this because it appears from her letter the issue isn't him having sex, merely having unprotected sex. If the issue were him having sex, or the parents not wanting to deal with, encourage, or otherwise address sex at all, then maybe that might be inappropriate.
What's The Big Deal With Letting Them Hang Free?
No, not talking balls here. Although I understand with the transition, you could go there. There, yes, there is something with letting them all hang out.
The second letter I have a real issue with - personally - because if I were young and dating a guy named Daryl, she could be talking about me. Oh, and if my name were Michelle.
The second letter writer is concerned about her son's young girlfriend's support / clothing choices. Michelle is sweet, caring, smart and funny. (See why I thought she might be writing about me?) But *gasp* doesn't wear a bra. And she isn't flat chested. Yep. Except for Daryl and the being young thing, describes me to a T.
WTF? Okay. I can understand having issue with it if she wears really tight shirts and her headbeams are on (sorry.. immature streak coming through there) all the time, leaving nothing to the imagination. But even wearing a bra doesn't guarantee that nips won't poke through. Personally, I always wear an undershirt to keep the girls from pointing in all directions, and even then...
But I have had several friends amazed that I don't wear a bra, and somehow concerned? The girls might drag? They ain't at my belly button yet. And anyone who has played with them has never complained. I don't have any particular desire for them to be perky, and really they haven't since they were little buds when I was 13. My breasts are fine.
I get questions like doesn't it hurt to not wear a bra? Well, um, if it did, I probably would wear a bra, now wouldn't I?
Abby suggested a polite conversation at lunch and an offer to go lingerie shopping.
I've been bra shopping with my friends - and even bought a bra to satiate them, but I wear it very infrequently. I will wear sports bras, only because the girls don't need to develop muscles going up and down, too. But really only when running. I don't need one for cycling, or other exercise.
But even suggesting "lingerie" shopping belies an underlying "purpose" for bras - as something sexy underneath. Really?
I admit the twitterpool is a bit skewed for scientific inquiry, but I've met a lot of women on here who go bra-less on a regular basis - not just #wineparty - and a lot who wish they could. I don't criticize those who choose to wear bras, and I understand many do *need* to - again, had Abby said "support" shopping, I'd have a different response to THAT part - so why criticize (and it's only women who give a damn) those of us who don't? Jealousy? Are men really that unable to control themselves around a bra-less woman? I've never had any issues...
Who knows...
Not me.
But we're all allowed an off day. Even Abby.
-------------------------
DEAR ABBY: My 15-year-old stepson, "Justin," doesn't drink or do drugs. For the most part, he stays out of trouble. The problem is, he has been caught for the third time having unprotected sex.
My anger isn't at Justin so much as at his parents, obviously his father. Justin has lied repeatedly about this. His father lets him get away with many things, for the most part minor. But this is different. A 15-year-old boy can't take care of a baby, and having sex with multiple partners means exposing everyone involved to STDs.
My husband is a smart man, but for some reason he seems to think this will end well. I worry about his son becoming a father too soon and missing out on his full potential. My husband and his ex have dealt with this by trying to ignore it, and for the most part I haven't involved myself. But the more I think about it, the more I see the danger of Justin's life being changed forever because his parents don't want to make him unhappy for a minute.
I love my husband and stepson. Allowing this to continue isn't the right path for anyone. Am I overreacting? If not, what can I do that won't cause a huge blowup with my husband? -- ALARMED IN CHICAGO
DEAR ALARMED: You're not overreacting. Your husband is doing his son no favors by enabling his irresponsible behavior instead of asserting himself and acting like a parent. Justin may think that fathering a
child will make him a "real man." But unless your husband can get through to him that real men take care of themselves and their partners, and real men don't risk bringing children into the world theycan't take care of, then face it: He's letting his son play baby roulette, and it's only a matter of time until he'll be a grandpa.
______________________________
DEAR ABBY: My son has a wonderful girlfriend, "Michelle." They live with my ex-husband and visit my husband, "Daryl," and me twice a month and on special occasions. Michelle is sweet, caring, smart and funny.
The problem is, she doesn't wear a bra. Ever.
Relatives have commented about it to us at family gatherings because she's not flat-chested. We already know. It's obvious. Daryl feels a woman should go without a bra only in the privacy of her own home, and I agree. He thinks I should buy Michelle a bra as a "subtle hint." I don't think that's wise, and I don't want to offend her.
Because it doesn't seem to matter to my son, should we continue to keep our opinions to ourselves? -- SEES A NEED FOR SUPPORT IN FLORIDA
DEAR SEES A NEED: Because people are talking, it would be a kindness to say something to Michelle -- but delicately, so she doesn't think you are criticizing her. If you have a good relationship with her, invite her to join you for lunch and, while you're on the subject of the last gathering, mention that some of the relatives noticed her bralessness.
Then tell her that you need to go lingerie shopping and invite her along. Ask her to help you pick out a few pretty things for yourself, and then offer to treat her to some things she likes. She just may take you up on it.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Bite me!
(Okay, I'll admit half the reason for the post is that I think the title is cute)
Lately, for some reason, I have found myself responding to this comment, "If you insist..." or "Where would you like?"
If I'm not careful, some of you might already think I have a biting fetish. Since, after all, I warn the #wineparty virgins that we don't bite... hard.
And clearly, verbally, I do seem to have a biting fetish.
Hmm....
Mostly I like the reaction. And to turn around a hostile upset moment into a playful teasing one. I like the laugh, the smile. But one day, someone will point some place nice, and say, "Here..."
.. and then, my friends, all bets may be off.
In the meantime, bite me!
Lately, for some reason, I have found myself responding to this comment, "If you insist..." or "Where would you like?"
If I'm not careful, some of you might already think I have a biting fetish. Since, after all, I warn the #wineparty virgins that we don't bite... hard.
And clearly, verbally, I do seem to have a biting fetish.
Hmm....
Mostly I like the reaction. And to turn around a hostile upset moment into a playful teasing one. I like the laugh, the smile. But one day, someone will point some place nice, and say, "Here..."
.. and then, my friends, all bets may be off.
In the meantime, bite me!
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Good grief, Charlie Brown!
Let's face it. Grief makes us uncomfortable. Particularly other people's grief. It's hard to know what the right thing is to say or do to bring someone else comfort when they're grieving.
Yesterday I went to a viewing for a good guy who I didn't know very well. But what little experience I had with him impressed me. He was a father who volunteered to be a coach in the league I was directing. When no-one else would.
I also went to the last game of his season on Monday. The 12/13 girls wanted to win it in honor of the coach they had lost. And they did. It was bitter sweet. The girls were excited about the victory, and yet, there were moments of pause about the loss they experienced.
In the middle of the game, at half-time, both teams, and the coaches, gathered in the middle of the field for a moment of silence, and a prayer for peace and comfort for those who were suffering loss.
And after the game, the girls on the team gave his daughter flowers to express their support for their team-mate. There were tears and smiles.
I went to show my support. I hadn't ever met his mother before, and I don't know that I knew who was his fiance. There was a bit of awkwardness on my end, and yet, I knew it was important to show up.
And that's why I went to the viewing.
I didn't have the perfect words.
And I have come to understand that there are no perfect words. Any words are sufficient. You just have to show up.
I have been experiencing my own grief - and displaying it quite broadly here in the blog and elsewhere.
And there's that awkward silence from many folks, uncertain what to say. And then there's the others who just show up, just step in not knowing what to say, but nonetheless they just show up.
And my grief is no comparison to the grief that this family is experiencing. I don't mean to suggest they are the same. Just to explain where I have gained some of my perspective.
This evening I discovered that a childhood friend passed away. One of the few boys I kissed before I realized I prefer kissing girls. His sister and I were good friends, and I fooled around with him a little as sometimes kids do. I haven't seen him or spoken to him in 25+ years, but have stayed in touch with his sister. His loss is one step removed from me. But at one time I knew him much better than the man whose waxy visage I viewed yesterday, and so it strikes me differently.
It is easy to hesitate and say nothing because you are worried you will say the wrong thing. And heck you are one of many - who will notice if you show up or don't? But that's not the reason we support someone experiencing grief. We support them to let them know they are not alone.
Because, ultimately, that is the core of grief. Feeling alone. Feeling left behind.
I feel a need - Lord only knows why, but there it is - to clarify a little about my grief. I do miss certain people in my life that were important to me. I am grieving the loss of the relationships that I shared with these folks. And even though their absence, in some ways, seems to remain with me, it isn't something that is so painful. It just is something that is. So, I don't want you all to worry so much that I am "sad" when I say I miss my friend, or express my grief. The sore is not so raw, it is not bleeding. It is not an outstanding wound. It's merely a scar at this point. And even then, I put aloe vera on it every day, and it fades. I'm okay. I'll be okay. It just like, every once in awhile, I like to be reminded I am not alone rather than remember being left alone by some folks.
I don't know if that makes more sense, or clarifies things for folks out there who support me, but I hope it does. I am okay. I will be okay. But these people marked my life, and I carry those marks. And I look down, every once in awhile, and see them. :) Don't worry too much... ;) And don't worry about what words you use. Ultimately, the words don't matter. Just showing up matters.
Yesterday I went to a viewing for a good guy who I didn't know very well. But what little experience I had with him impressed me. He was a father who volunteered to be a coach in the league I was directing. When no-one else would.
I also went to the last game of his season on Monday. The 12/13 girls wanted to win it in honor of the coach they had lost. And they did. It was bitter sweet. The girls were excited about the victory, and yet, there were moments of pause about the loss they experienced.
In the middle of the game, at half-time, both teams, and the coaches, gathered in the middle of the field for a moment of silence, and a prayer for peace and comfort for those who were suffering loss.
And after the game, the girls on the team gave his daughter flowers to express their support for their team-mate. There were tears and smiles.
I went to show my support. I hadn't ever met his mother before, and I don't know that I knew who was his fiance. There was a bit of awkwardness on my end, and yet, I knew it was important to show up.
And that's why I went to the viewing.
I didn't have the perfect words.
And I have come to understand that there are no perfect words. Any words are sufficient. You just have to show up.
I have been experiencing my own grief - and displaying it quite broadly here in the blog and elsewhere.
And there's that awkward silence from many folks, uncertain what to say. And then there's the others who just show up, just step in not knowing what to say, but nonetheless they just show up.
And my grief is no comparison to the grief that this family is experiencing. I don't mean to suggest they are the same. Just to explain where I have gained some of my perspective.
This evening I discovered that a childhood friend passed away. One of the few boys I kissed before I realized I prefer kissing girls. His sister and I were good friends, and I fooled around with him a little as sometimes kids do. I haven't seen him or spoken to him in 25+ years, but have stayed in touch with his sister. His loss is one step removed from me. But at one time I knew him much better than the man whose waxy visage I viewed yesterday, and so it strikes me differently.
It is easy to hesitate and say nothing because you are worried you will say the wrong thing. And heck you are one of many - who will notice if you show up or don't? But that's not the reason we support someone experiencing grief. We support them to let them know they are not alone.
Because, ultimately, that is the core of grief. Feeling alone. Feeling left behind.
I feel a need - Lord only knows why, but there it is - to clarify a little about my grief. I do miss certain people in my life that were important to me. I am grieving the loss of the relationships that I shared with these folks. And even though their absence, in some ways, seems to remain with me, it isn't something that is so painful. It just is something that is. So, I don't want you all to worry so much that I am "sad" when I say I miss my friend, or express my grief. The sore is not so raw, it is not bleeding. It is not an outstanding wound. It's merely a scar at this point. And even then, I put aloe vera on it every day, and it fades. I'm okay. I'll be okay. It just like, every once in awhile, I like to be reminded I am not alone rather than remember being left alone by some folks.
I don't know if that makes more sense, or clarifies things for folks out there who support me, but I hope it does. I am okay. I will be okay. But these people marked my life, and I carry those marks. And I look down, every once in awhile, and see them. :) Don't worry too much... ;) And don't worry about what words you use. Ultimately, the words don't matter. Just showing up matters.
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