Fixing stuff, myself included…
2.) What’s your mood today? Do you believe in the power of mood rings?
3.) Describe your absolute favorite Halloween costume? Did you play tricks on people, even when they gave you a treat?
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Who’s Saving Time?
And by the way, just where are they saving it? Although, I’m glad it’s now gloriously bright at 7:30; I dread the darkness that will now descend at 5 PM. This reminds me, why do they make capsules shaped the way they are? Why do they (those madcap capsule inventors) think the capsule will go down vertically; invariably the damn thing turns and goes down horizontally trying to lodge itself in my throat.
I thought you were going to wrap up yesterday?
Yesterday’s gone. Hmm… it’s a day of song lyrics, like saving time in a bottle.
Are you in a good mood?
I can’t tell yet; when I woke up, I didn’t think so, but now maybe so. And just what are moods anyway?
I thought I was the one asking the questions?
Too bad; I’m taking over. When I was much, much younger we had mood rings, and it was easy to tell what mood you were in. Mood awareness groups sprang up like mushrooms in the basement. Before long the government stepped in and outlawed mood rings; they were afraid that people aware of their own mood swings would rock the established order, which tended to run in the middle.
I’ve never heard of that.
I’m sure there are lots things you’ve never heard of.
Are mood rings still illegal?
Well yes, but old moodies gather under various disguises and change moods when no one is watching.
Didn’t you ever see a Star Trek episode with shape sifters in it? It’s exactly like that, only much, much better.
It’s impossible for something to be exactly like, and different at the same time.
Ahhhh, but the world of moods is full of surprises.
“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious.”
What really happened?
I went with my parents to see the apartment they will be moving to in a “retirement community.” The condo they’ve been living in for the last 20 years is on the market; they’re making (keep, give, throw) decisions based on how much will fit in the smaller space. We all know that this is the last place they will live. They are so upbeat about the move, and I’m doing my best to be “happy for them” as well, and doing a damn good job of it. But, it’s painful, as painful as the arthritis in my mother’s hands. She said last night, “my thumbs are so swollen, and my hands are so painful these days. I just seem to be falling apart.” She showed me her hands; the knuckles were knobby and twisted, and her thumbs were enlarged. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed this last week, or the week before. She said as she showed me, “I hold them like this so no one notices; I used to have such beautiful hands.” My mother resembles Katherine Hepburn; she looks like her now, and she looked like her when she was a young women as well.
What else happened?
I’ll tell you more tomorrow; I’ve got to go now.
What did you do?
On my way out of town yesterday, I noticed the little red needle of the gas gage was pointing to E. I pulled off Russell St. at the last available gas station, before the 95 Interstate and the BW Parkway. After paying the smiling middle easterner behind the bullet proof glass, and as I was inserting the nozzle into the opening, my mind wandered to thoughts of the serial sniper. While “I knew” he wasn’t out there, I nevertheless casually surveyed my surroundings as the gas flowed into the tank. At this point I noticed how dirty my car windows were, and spied one of those wiper sticks protruding from a shiny, black plastic water container strapped to an upright. All thoughts of the sniper had vanished. First I washed and wiped the outside of the windows, returning several times to refresh the water, but no this wasn’t enough. Then I went back and forth with wet paper towels cleaning the inside of the windows as well. It was while I was pulling away from the pump that thoughts of the sniper returned, and the words death defying stunt popped into my head as I accelerated into the flow of traffic.
Why is this significant?
I think the fear of “the sniper” is quite like the induced 9/11 fear many of us experienced after the terrorist attack last fall. It’s fear of our own mortality. Mortality is something you can live with, or live with it.
There’s really no getting away from it. It’s two sides of the same coin so to speak. You are living with it on a daily basis, whether you think about it or not. And notice, I didn’t say “choose” to think about it. Although, I suppose one might choose. Most of the time the thoughts that are not consiously brought to mind come unbiden. Thoughts bubble up to the surface of awareness, some we dwell upon, some we don’t and some cause ripples on the surface.
Why do you always talk about death?
It’s not so much death I’m talking about as the fear of death. As I said there are two sides. Death is the inescapable coin; on one side is fear, and on the other side is…
“The question is not whether we will die, but how we will live.”
Still in progress; light poles to follow. Click on the image for larger view. The painting is actually brighter, and higher contrast then the photo.
2.) Where’s the beef, Carmine Miranda, or what’s bugging you lately?
3.) Elliott would like to know, do you type without looking at the keyboard; in other words, are you a hunt and peek (in his case that would be hunt and claw), or a “true typist?”
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“Cannot find REALITY.SYS…Universe Halted.”
Elliott was left unsupervised in the computer room, while I was out for a half an hour. Upon my return I found 10 of the key tabs and several plastic spring type things scattered on the desk, and a shivering half naked keyboard, crying beneath a screen I’d never seen before, and hope never to see again. My first thought was that someone had broken in and vandalized it, but in this neighborhood they would have just run off with it.
Why did he do it?
Never before had he expressed such a keen interest in computer programing. Mad at me for leaving, jealous? Trying to open a blogger account of his own? Looking for kitty cat porn? Who knows? In most criminal cases it’s not important why they did what they did. It’s just wrong.
Did you punish the poor kitty?
Only in the sense that he’s no longer allowed computer access, unless he’s supervised. Once, before the chilling incident, I left the room to get coffee; I found him sitting on the keyboard grooming himself when I returned. If only I’d known where he was going with this, I might have prevented the disaster.
Did you fix it?
I learned more about keyboard hardware than I really wanted to. I got it all back together and functioning properly, except for the x key, and the alt key on the left side which were missing spring parts.
Well how did you type except?
I’m on another laptop now, which doesn’t seem to have the quirks and kinks that the previous one did. I spent several geek days with my friend su the computer guru, and we successfully transferred all my data and programs again. THANK YOU SU! I’m such a geek wannabe, but I do love it.
“It is not enough to have a good mind; the main thing is to use it well.”
Tuesday Too # 33
It will be up soon. I just spent an hour and a half trying to get connected! My move two weeks ago to a new computer has been a constant uphill battle to get things going right. It’s now 7:40; I need more coffee, so expect some questions around 9.
1.) I know we’ve been here before, but perhaps you got a different one now. What’s your “must see” movie, and why should I see it?
2.) What have you been procrastinating on, that you’ve just got to do, or finish up?
3.) Are you wondering, what in the world is happening? Are you afraid to pump gas? Do you think the US media has focused too much on the Maryland sniper? Why, or why not?
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“Don’t take life seriously, because you can’t come out of it alive.”
Bobbing About on Boats
With the usual fanfare and near running aground at the dock, we shoved off from Dreams Landing on Saturday at 12:30 PM. The 15 knot wind pushed us down the Chesapeake Bay, under the Bay bridge and past Sandy Point. We turned (helms a lee) to the right and motored up the Magothy River to meet with 20 other sail boats. The winds of fortune smiled on us, because we only had to cross one other boat, to reach the dock of the rendezvous party host.
What’s so fortunate about that?
My mother has two knee replacements, and my dad is walking with a cane, because he needs one as well. The boats all raft up against one another, lashed together bow and stern, separated by bumpers, and spring lines to keep the mast spreaders from tangling. You make your way to the either the dock, or the boat hosting happy hour by crossing from boat to boat. Each boat deck is surrounded by a life line, which is usually about 2 feet high and strung through stanchions. Many an unsteady sailor has fallen, tripped and sometimes tasted sea water, especially while trying to maneuver his/her way back to their boat.
Do sailors drink too much?
Much like any other group some do and some don’t. Even those who don’t, find it hard to make the reverse trip in the dark guided only by flashlight. My experience on these cruises has been that happy hour lasts about an hour and a half, and then everyone “usually” returns to their own boat. Dinner is light, because happy hour snacking is heavy. Sailors who’ve been south to key West or the islands of the Bahamas blow the conch shell horn at sundown, sending boat pets scurrying down below.
Was the whole voyage lucky?
Of course not. However we had a magnificent sail on Monday. Sunday we motored/cruised across the bay with just the jenny up, and rafted up with 7 boats on Swan Creek not far from Rockhall. Monday came with 20 knot winds, and for once in the direction we were going. One of my dad’s rules of cruising is: “if you have a predetermined destination, the wind will be against you.” With the mainsail and the jenny raised we made an average speed of 7.5 nautical miles an hour for several hours. We sailed up the Chester River and rafted with 5 boats beyond Davis Creek. The raft was small with two anchors out, as the night was expected to bring stronger winds. The wind was not a problem, and the anchors held. Sleep was only occasionlly interruped by an annoying squeak from one of the rubber bumpers pressing against the hull.
What’s the unlucky part?
An injury occurred on Monday morning. During a minor crisis aboard the boat rafted next to us the palm of my right hand lost a smallish (lima bean size) piece of flesh. I was below deck, when I heard the woman on the next boat shouting at her husband, “get back here and hold us off.” I rushed up on deck, and fended their boat off from ours by pushing on the life line. A bit of my palm was pinched between the line and the stanchion ring, and as she went full speed ahead it went with her. All sailors are not created equal.
“If you don’t learn to laugh at troubles, you won’t have anything to laugh at when you grow old.”
–Edward W. Howe
Is that storm headed your way?
I don’t know; I’d better go look up the weather on google. Nope it looks good. The only thing is a 30% chance of showers on Monday. Temperatures are predicted to be in the low 70s except for today which will be a muggy 83. There will at least a dozen boats on this cruise, rafting up each evening for happy hour. Ah sailors, a happy lot they are. The entire cruise actually lasts for seven days, but I’ve got to get back for my painting class.
How’s that going?
Good and bad. One painting I finished yesterday, I’m very pleased with. Another one is the painting from hell. It’s supposed “represent” the Maryland Inn, in Annapolis, but it looks like the Bates Motel. I wouldn’t stay there if you paid me. I’ll post the “good one” when I get back. Maybe I’ll post the “bad one” as well.
“Philosophy is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of language.”