Art Attack Central
Fixing stuff, myself included…
Moving Day
Four packers (no not Greenbay) spent the better part of yesterday packing the rest of my parents belongings. I’ve never been moved professionally (you know what I mean); instead of taking the drawers out of a dresser, loading the dresser in the truck, and reinserting the drawers, everything in the drawers must be packed in boxes. No more time for, “do I really need that,” or “do you think so and so would like this.” Thus there will still be many decisions to be made on the other end. The older you get, the harder it is to move, and it’s not just that you’ve accumulated more, although that appears to be true. The apartment within the retirement community is really quite nice, but it’s the last apartment. When you’re on the up side of age, you move into larger and larger places, but on the down side of age, the places are smaller and smaller. Shortly I will shut down this computer, unplug all the wires from various devices, and try to remember where each one returns to later this afternoon. Hmmm, I think I better make a diagram. And I think I’d better start pruning my own belongs.
Lab Rat updated
Tuesday Too
1.) Do you have the google toolbar?
If you don’t I suggest you go get it; its way cool and quite handy. I resisted for such a long time, because I was always such a die hard Netscape fan, and it only works with IE.
2.) You may be surprised when you test yourself for hidden bias at Tolerance.org
3.) What’s floating your boat today?
Post your URL in the comment
“It was when I found out I could make mistakes that I knew I was on to something.”
–Ornette Coleman
AOL 500 Hours Free
Julie was talking about using them to pave the world, and I was thinking of using them for breast plates. But, where are they when you need one?
Why do you need one?
Hopefully the problem has resolved itself. I’m not home right now, and I’m using someone elses connection to post this morning. So here’s what happened yesterday morning when I tried to get online. That damn ole message kept comming up: “Cannot make connection, check your password and try again.” I used to have netzero on my computer for just such an emergency, but alas I neglected to move that over when I changed computers after the Elliott fiasco. Since I have not been using the AOL disks for breast plates, and rather have been throwing them in the trash, I can’t get out there to my IP to see what’s up. Until now that is. I’ve got there number now; when I get home I’ll ring them up if the problem still exists. Don’t you love it when problems just disappear?
What about the Tuesday Too?
Well, if I get things rolling or find they have rolled on their own, I’ll be here tomorrow at the somewhat usual time of 5ish AM eastern standard time.
“Don’t dwell on reality; it will only keep you from greatness.”
–Rev. Randall R. McBride, Jr.
New post on Lab Rat
Third Floor Window or Letters From Harry
The “funny” thing is, when I really face/feel, rather than contemplate the temporariness of my existence, I no longer worry about little things.
What do you consider little things?
It’s not so much that they are little things, as it is they become little things in the whole picture. While each patch of a quilt is part of a large whole, some patches seem beautiful on there own, and some I might not like at all, when viewed outside the context of the quilt. No single patch makes a quilt. And one day the quilt is finished.
Are you sure you’re not sticking your head in the sand?
Maybe a little (there’s that word again). Perhaps I would like to feel comfortable with death on my shoulder, and so I imagine that I do, or it’s all just an excuse not to fix the third floor window, or one more attempt to ignore my lack of funds. But on the other hand, there’s no denying that my parents are preparing for “it”. I witness their courage, frustration, determination, grief and happiness as we sort through a lifetime of collected things. Some are easy to discard; some must be given to a thrift store; some must be given to a special person who will treasure the gift. Each object contains a memory, and we sift through those memories as we sort the objects.
Why would you want to be comfortable with it?
I don’t know; maybe it’s that I want to skip the hard part. The hard part is the loss of someone other than ones self. When I’m gone I won’t know it, even though I might know it’s near. When I was in high school I was in love with a boy, and I thought he was in love with me. He was a year ahead of me, and joined the army after graduation. Harry was sent to Viet Nam. He didn’t come home. Well he did, but in a box.
Why have you changed the subject?
I haven’t really. One of the objects that turned up in my parent’s attic, was a box of letters belonging to me, letters from Harry.
So you’ve experienced death before?
Yes and more. It was in the spring of my senior year, when Harry’s mother called. She spoke with my father. When he hung up, he turned to me and said, “you better sit down.” “But why?”, I said.
“Because Harry’s dead, and there’s more.”
“How could there be more, he’s dead?.”
“He was married, and he has a child. His mother (Eve) just told me, because she thought you might not know.”
The pronunciation of know and no are the same. And no, I didn’t know. So death is complicated; sobs are stifled, tears are streaming down your face, rifles have fired, and a flag is handed to a wife I don’t know, holding a child I imagined was mine.
“Only the spoon knows what is stirring in the pot.”
–Sicilian Proverb
Fooling Around
Messing with the template = always a little bit scary.
Why are you fooling with?
Updating some links, removing or rearranging others, and adding Lab Rat to side bar. Also I’m changing the archives from weekly to monthly, although the archives can still be reach through a weekly index on the netscape users archive link.
What else is going on?
It’s snowing like crazy here; I haven’t fixed the broken window on the third floor. The window is still jerry rigged with a clear shower curtain. I don’t own a broom to sweep the steps. I don’t have a four wheel drive. However, I’m relatively warm, and drinking my forth cup of coffee. So all is well with my world.