Anyway, it was as entertaining as a nightmare could be that started with a murder-suicide. There was this murder-suicide. For some reason, I was going to inherit the perpetrator's house. For some other reason, the house had a basement that was larger than the house itself, another house entirely in fact. For some other other reason, the basement was boobytrapped with bombs and we didn't know where or what the bombs were. ("We" being me and the police, who tended to appear and disappear as if it were a dream or something.)
For some other (OK, you get the gag) reason, the basement had a door that opened straight to the back yard. I found a bag that was ticking and decided it would be safest to hustle it out to the backyard. Being kind, careful, and solicitous of the safety of my neighbors, I hid it in some brush. The neighbors saw me, and curious about the basement that they apparently had never visited before, all came to see. All of them, in their hundreds. The basement, which had previously been like a fairly normal house, transmogrified into warehouse dimensions. I got worried about the risk to them and felt bad about the bomb in the brush and told them the place was boobytrapped. I also got the police to take care of the ticking thing in the backyard. We all presumably lived happily ever after.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Timeless again
I have blithered previously on the topic of timeless songs from the past few decades. I will do so here again even more randomly. Be forewarned.
One of the umpty-ump local oldies stations rebroadcasts Casey Kasem's American Top 40 radio show. In fact, they do so twice every weekend. On Saturday mornings, they play a show from the '70s and on Sunday evenings, they play one from the '80s. It's a demonstration of timelessness in action when you hear two songs in a row and your reaction to one is "I had no idea this was so old" and to the other "I had no idea this was so new." It's a lot of fun; of course you can do the same thing by checking old Billboard charts on the Internet. I'm not sure which of the above reactions means that the song is timeless, since either could. I guess the big one would be a sense of disbelief that this song had ever been on the charts at all in my lifetime. Coincidentally, "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel is playing at this moment, and I'm sort of feeling that way even though I know perfectly well when it came out and that it was on the charts.
Another thought about timelessness: how so many Simon & Garfunkel numbers were, and how so few Paul Simon numbers are. I guess it's important to know your own limitations and to recognize when you have a great singer interpreting your work. Maybe somebody should put together a "Garfunkel Sings Simon" record. I think I could get behind that.
One of the umpty-ump local oldies stations rebroadcasts Casey Kasem's American Top 40 radio show. In fact, they do so twice every weekend. On Saturday mornings, they play a show from the '70s and on Sunday evenings, they play one from the '80s. It's a demonstration of timelessness in action when you hear two songs in a row and your reaction to one is "I had no idea this was so old" and to the other "I had no idea this was so new." It's a lot of fun; of course you can do the same thing by checking old Billboard charts on the Internet. I'm not sure which of the above reactions means that the song is timeless, since either could. I guess the big one would be a sense of disbelief that this song had ever been on the charts at all in my lifetime. Coincidentally, "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel is playing at this moment, and I'm sort of feeling that way even though I know perfectly well when it came out and that it was on the charts.
Another thought about timelessness: how so many Simon & Garfunkel numbers were, and how so few Paul Simon numbers are. I guess it's important to know your own limitations and to recognize when you have a great singer interpreting your work. Maybe somebody should put together a "Garfunkel Sings Simon" record. I think I could get behind that.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Yeast extract
A continuing source of annoyance is how hard it is to avoid MSG in this our life. I don't know if the stuff is unhealthy or in any way bad for you. I just know that it gives me a brief but definitely uncomfortable weird feeling in my sinus area, and I am happier without it. So it peeves me to see various products labeled with Earth mother type names and promising "No MSG" except that there always seems to be an asterisk (or, more ominously, a dagger): "except for that naturally occurring in yeast extract."
Well no kidding! You put in the yeast extract BECAUSE it has MSG in it! So here's a thought: why not DON'T put the yeast extract in? Granted, I don't know a lot about modern food manufacturing, but I'm pretty sure the yeast extract did not sneak itself in by some back door. I am not a paid endorser (and wouldn't it be a laugh if I were?) but Kitchen Basics broths specifically promise that they contain no MSG and nothing that would PRODUCE MSG. I don't see why this is so hard. They have my business; in fact, I'm eating their broth this minute (well, a minute ago and a minute from now) in my shrimp-free shrimp boil. Damn fine, don't even miss the MSG.
Well no kidding! You put in the yeast extract BECAUSE it has MSG in it! So here's a thought: why not DON'T put the yeast extract in? Granted, I don't know a lot about modern food manufacturing, but I'm pretty sure the yeast extract did not sneak itself in by some back door. I am not a paid endorser (and wouldn't it be a laugh if I were?) but Kitchen Basics broths specifically promise that they contain no MSG and nothing that would PRODUCE MSG. I don't see why this is so hard. They have my business; in fact, I'm eating their broth this minute (well, a minute ago and a minute from now) in my shrimp-free shrimp boil. Damn fine, don't even miss the MSG.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Tin roof, rusted
Or copper roof, corroded. Columbia is the capital of South Carolina. Thus, we have the State House, the state capitol building. It has a really big dome. A really, really big dome. Other states, such as Georgia, Massachusetts and Maine (MAINE for goodness' sake!) have gold domes on their state houses. But we, we wanted a really REALLY big dome. A dome for which gilding would not be cost-effective. So we went with copper.
I am fifty years old, and for at least 35 of those the State House had this hideous huge green dome. Somewhere along the line in the '90s (1998, says Wikipedia), there was a massive renovation, including, uh, re-copperization. (Repennifying? Whatever!) The newly not-green dome was never pretty and shiny like a new penny, but pleasantly brown like an old one. But here's the key: my friend Paul, who lives within sight of the dome (and did then, I think) and I both remember that officials at the time said that the metal had been specially treated so that it would turn green again faster.
Now this seems crazy on its face even by local standards. I had no idea there was this much love for the big green dome. What brings it up is that after 14 years, the new metal is finally starting to corrode. That doesn't seem all that fast to me, but maybe on a scale of centuries it's downright zippy. Maybe our politicians are just recognizing that they only deserve to be under a big corroded dome. Anyway, if there are any Columbians or ex-Columbians out there reading this who have a clearer memory of the renovations and whether or not anyone said anything at the time about the speed or slowness of the return of the big green dome, I'd appreciate hearing from you. Or if you just dig the big green.:)
I am fifty years old, and for at least 35 of those the State House had this hideous huge green dome. Somewhere along the line in the '90s (1998, says Wikipedia), there was a massive renovation, including, uh, re-copperization. (Repennifying? Whatever!) The newly not-green dome was never pretty and shiny like a new penny, but pleasantly brown like an old one. But here's the key: my friend Paul, who lives within sight of the dome (and did then, I think) and I both remember that officials at the time said that the metal had been specially treated so that it would turn green again faster.
Now this seems crazy on its face even by local standards. I had no idea there was this much love for the big green dome. What brings it up is that after 14 years, the new metal is finally starting to corrode. That doesn't seem all that fast to me, but maybe on a scale of centuries it's downright zippy. Maybe our politicians are just recognizing that they only deserve to be under a big corroded dome. Anyway, if there are any Columbians or ex-Columbians out there reading this who have a clearer memory of the renovations and whether or not anyone said anything at the time about the speed or slowness of the return of the big green dome, I'd appreciate hearing from you. Or if you just dig the big green.:)
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Ultimate radio genius
So I know that blogging about radio ads is right up with blogging about my cat in terms of evoking widespread interest, but I just can't help myself. A restaurant here has a new ad touting their new location. They very specifically tell you where their old location is, but the new location they just tell us is in The Vista. The Congaree Vista is a shopping district between Main Street and the river. Thing is, it's about ten blocks long by ten wide. As it happens, I know exactly where the new location is, but the point of the ad is presumably to tell people who DON'T know where it is about it. I just gotta say, I love this ad.
Similarly, the local fast food chain has a new ad with a brilliant '70s style funk jingle. The only problem is that you can barely hear the name of the company. On the bright side (from their point of view), the listener really wants to hear it again. I hope it pays off for them. Message is that our local advertising people are ALMOST brilliant.
Now let me tell you about my cat. Seriously, I had been trying to use the Nikon still camera my sister Anne gave me for my birthday to get a video of Amelia very cutely playing with string. The first time I tried, she went all diva on me. (Actually, she just froze because cats are set up to see in evening light and I had turned too many lights on so she couldn't see.) With just daylight though, she made a very nice video. No one will see it unfortunately because I imported it to the computer using Windows, which converted it to Quicktime, which made it very herky-jerky. Next time I'll use the Nikon software.
Similarly, the local fast food chain has a new ad with a brilliant '70s style funk jingle. The only problem is that you can barely hear the name of the company. On the bright side (from their point of view), the listener really wants to hear it again. I hope it pays off for them. Message is that our local advertising people are ALMOST brilliant.
Now let me tell you about my cat. Seriously, I had been trying to use the Nikon still camera my sister Anne gave me for my birthday to get a video of Amelia very cutely playing with string. The first time I tried, she went all diva on me. (Actually, she just froze because cats are set up to see in evening light and I had turned too many lights on so she couldn't see.) With just daylight though, she made a very nice video. No one will see it unfortunately because I imported it to the computer using Windows, which converted it to Quicktime, which made it very herky-jerky. Next time I'll use the Nikon software.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Map help
I met a nice couple on the boardwalk at Congaree National Park yesterday. They were at the point where the Weston Loop Trail leaves the boardwalk. Unfortunately, it starts out as another boardwalk which extends about as far as the eye can see, but only a little farther. This may have confused them, or they might just be really bad with maps. They were also standing next to two signs that made abundantly clear which way was the trail and which the boardwalk.
They asked me if I were familiar with the trails here. I resisted the temptation to say, "I wrote the book" just this once, and just said yes. They asked if I would recommend the Weston Lake Loop Trail. I started to say yes, since it had been dry lately and it ought to be a real nice hike for people prepared for it. Then I looked down at their feet. He was wearing regular shoes while she was wearing open-toed sandals. I recommended they stay on the boardwalk. Congaree NP is no place to hike without proper boots (and sunblock, bug spray, water and food, none of which did they seem to have either.) It was a crazy mad pretty day, though; I'm sure they had a good visit just walking the boardwalk.
They asked me if I were familiar with the trails here. I resisted the temptation to say, "I wrote the book" just this once, and just said yes. They asked if I would recommend the Weston Lake Loop Trail. I started to say yes, since it had been dry lately and it ought to be a real nice hike for people prepared for it. Then I looked down at their feet. He was wearing regular shoes while she was wearing open-toed sandals. I recommended they stay on the boardwalk. Congaree NP is no place to hike without proper boots (and sunblock, bug spray, water and food, none of which did they seem to have either.) It was a crazy mad pretty day, though; I'm sure they had a good visit just walking the boardwalk.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Rear ended
Yesterday, I was at a "no turn on red" intersection, but forgot it. I noticed the sign after I had started to turn on red, and stopped. Unfortunately, the guy behind me followed me. There was a bang, but a little one. I hopped out of the car. It was funny because you would usually have a shouting match, but we just talked about it. I just mentioned what I just said (forgot about no turn on red, then saw the sign). He said he knew it was no turn on red, but then when I looked like I was going anyway, he decided to go, too. (This isn't good defensive driving procedure, but I didn't think it would be a good time to mention it.)
I couldn't see any damage, and I couldn't feel any damage, so we just shrugged and I got back in the car and drove away when the light changed. When I was rear-ended before, I didn't feel any neck pain for a few days, but I was definitely whiplashed then. I was definitely not whiplashed this time; the impact was about as hard as hitting somebody when parallel parking. So I'm optimistic. Driving away, I started laughing and laughing: I think he fixed my radio.:)
I couldn't see any damage, and I couldn't feel any damage, so we just shrugged and I got back in the car and drove away when the light changed. When I was rear-ended before, I didn't feel any neck pain for a few days, but I was definitely whiplashed then. I was definitely not whiplashed this time; the impact was about as hard as hitting somebody when parallel parking. So I'm optimistic. Driving away, I started laughing and laughing: I think he fixed my radio.:)
Sunday, September 23, 2012
More radio geniuses
You'd think that people in the radio business would know about, or at least think about, homonyms. Anyway, I would think so. And I would be mistaken. There's one ad for wooden flooring where they keep talking about their flooring catalog, only it sounds like they're pushing their boring catalog. Atlanta Braves pitcher Tim Hudson makes a fairly witty commercial for AT&T wireless where he mentions the size of their 4G network. Only problem (or I dunno, brilliant marketing): it sounds a lot more like "orgy network." (Sign me up!)
Finally, Downtown U. has a big new parking facility across from the football stadium where the State Farmers' Market used to be. It's a big deal and the radio network now broadcasts from a stage there. Anybody following sports over the last few decades in this country knows that the stage is sponsored. It's called the Cox Ecolife stage. However, since the announcer doesn't have a clear idea how "ecology" is pronounced (short first o), it sounds like the Cox e coli stage. (Ew!) Of course, all this might be a result of all the wax in my ears. But somehow I doubt it.
Finally, Downtown U. has a big new parking facility across from the football stadium where the State Farmers' Market used to be. It's a big deal and the radio network now broadcasts from a stage there. Anybody following sports over the last few decades in this country knows that the stage is sponsored. It's called the Cox Ecolife stage. However, since the announcer doesn't have a clear idea how "ecology" is pronounced (short first o), it sounds like the Cox e coli stage. (Ew!) Of course, all this might be a result of all the wax in my ears. But somehow I doubt it.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Is your tongue coated?
Throughout this weird health escapade, I've been reminded of the Bugs Bunny bit, "Is your tongue coated?" (Then he paints their tongue.) As that was maybe 70 years ago, and probably represents something that was a dated medical cliche even then, I don't have any clear idea what it's supposed to mean. But I do feel a bit like my tongue is coated, since this neverending sour taste in my mouth seems confined to my tongue. What I think is going on is that I have the world's mildest ear infection, complicated by a really astonishing earwax buildup.
As I get the earwax out gradually (using peroxide, following doctor's instructions of some years standing), I'm feeling in some ways better and in some worse. It seems like I've let the infection out of its earwax prison, and it's running roughly like a very mild cold. As I have the immune system of a shark, I'm pretty confident that I'll have it licked entirely in another couple of days. Or I'll just eat more cookies. (Well, that's one way to beat a sour taste in your mouth.)
As I get the earwax out gradually (using peroxide, following doctor's instructions of some years standing), I'm feeling in some ways better and in some worse. It seems like I've let the infection out of its earwax prison, and it's running roughly like a very mild cold. As I have the immune system of a shark, I'm pretty confident that I'll have it licked entirely in another couple of days. Or I'll just eat more cookies. (Well, that's one way to beat a sour taste in your mouth.)
Friday, September 21, 2012
Loving my abandonment
I still don't think it can last, but I'm loving the absence of Russian robots from my Blogger stats. It was always stupid thinking that we were going to see a strange website as a referrer and go, "Wow! I should click on that!" As I said before, I'm sure every Blogspot/Blogger blogger has done it. Once. Not a truly great path to fabulous profits, I wouldn't think.
However, I seriously doubt that all the Russians gave up on this idea at once. More likely, Google finally did something right and found a way to block fake referrers. Yay Google! My stats are much barer and I couldn't be happier. I can start greeting all my readers individually any day now.(:)) (Assuming of course that the Russians don't come back.)
Dream last night was mainly odd in format. Because I was reading a book that was happening in real life as nearly as I can tell as a video game. The book called itself "The Satanic Verses" though it had nothing to do with Islam and I think my brain only threw out the title because major plot points seemed to be signaled by bits of doggerel. Also at some point I was trying to interpret a map of Washington DC that was also spilling over into real life quite a bit. Except I'm pretty sure that National Mall hasn't been moved to Virginia. Maybe I should go check!
However, I seriously doubt that all the Russians gave up on this idea at once. More likely, Google finally did something right and found a way to block fake referrers. Yay Google! My stats are much barer and I couldn't be happier. I can start greeting all my readers individually any day now.(:)) (Assuming of course that the Russians don't come back.)
Dream last night was mainly odd in format. Because I was reading a book that was happening in real life as nearly as I can tell as a video game. The book called itself "The Satanic Verses" though it had nothing to do with Islam and I think my brain only threw out the title because major plot points seemed to be signaled by bits of doggerel. Also at some point I was trying to interpret a map of Washington DC that was also spilling over into real life quite a bit. Except I'm pretty sure that National Mall hasn't been moved to Virginia. Maybe I should go check!
Thursday, September 20, 2012
A political one
I make no secret that I am a HIGHLY partisan Democrat. However, this will not be particularly advocative (if that's a word). It doesn't need to be. No, this is about the worst political campaign ever run. One where a rich, handsome guy with literally unlimited corporate money behind him sticks his foot in his mouth every time he opens it. He not only can't get anything right, but also he can't ever fail to get it wrong. It would be one thing if he were conspicuously stupid, but he appears to be anything but. From saying gratuitously snide things about the poor, the middle class, Palestinians, England and I've lost count of who(m) else, to smirking while accusing Obama of causing an ambassador's death by apologizing, to appearing on Univision in brownface, this is a man who is either tone deaf to an impossible degree or who is spending his unlimited funds on the worst. advisers. ever.
This is the point where I'm supposed to say that I kind of feel sorry for the guy, but I most assuredly do not. As a partisan, I hope he keeps up the good work all the way to Election Day. But what I do feel is bewildered. What the hell is up with the Republicans? Why did they run that clown college field to begin with, and how did they wind up with this zombie robot? Why does he ever open his mouth at all? If he would have just smiled and waved, he would have had a very competitive campaign given the state of the economy.
It's a puzzle. Maybe he's trying to lose. Maybe it's some kind of revenge against the Republicans for what Nixon did to his dad 44 years ago. Or maybe he's really the worst politician in American history on merit. All I can say is, "Keep it up, fella!"
This is the point where I'm supposed to say that I kind of feel sorry for the guy, but I most assuredly do not. As a partisan, I hope he keeps up the good work all the way to Election Day. But what I do feel is bewildered. What the hell is up with the Republicans? Why did they run that clown college field to begin with, and how did they wind up with this zombie robot? Why does he ever open his mouth at all? If he would have just smiled and waved, he would have had a very competitive campaign given the state of the economy.
It's a puzzle. Maybe he's trying to lose. Maybe it's some kind of revenge against the Republicans for what Nixon did to his dad 44 years ago. Or maybe he's really the worst politician in American history on merit. All I can say is, "Keep it up, fella!"
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Oh. That again.
So it might not be the solution to the neverending digestive problems I've been having or even be related, but one thing that's unquestionably wrong with me is that I have too darn much ear wax. I'm hoping that getting rid of that will get rid of my other problems, but as I'm starting to get a touch of vertigo, I definitely need to do it regardless. I know it sounds crazy to link ear wax to digestive problems, but then I'm only calling them digestive problems because they seem to stem from the alimentary canal. (Mainly this perpetual sour or chalky taste in my mouth.)
My even crazier idea is that all that kale in everything just led me to getting too much calcium in my system. (This idea stemming from the chalkiness of the taste in my mouth.) I should stress that all these are very minor and mild symptoms and getting better gradually. So before you say "Go to a doctor, stupid," rest assured that I will if ever any of this stuff starts seeming to be any more than a minor annoyance. It's all just weird, more than anything.
Just like my dang dreams. This time, it was robots trying to kill me, but purely in a video game type context. Once again, it was my brain signalling me that it was time to get up and go pee. I guess what frustrates me about all this is that I have demonstrated an ability since I was small to control my dreams; why can't I just control them to the extent that somebody just walks up and says: "Hey stupid! Get up and go to the bathroom!" What I need are USEFUL lucid dreams.
My even crazier idea is that all that kale in everything just led me to getting too much calcium in my system. (This idea stemming from the chalkiness of the taste in my mouth.) I should stress that all these are very minor and mild symptoms and getting better gradually. So before you say "Go to a doctor, stupid," rest assured that I will if ever any of this stuff starts seeming to be any more than a minor annoyance. It's all just weird, more than anything.
Just like my dang dreams. This time, it was robots trying to kill me, but purely in a video game type context. Once again, it was my brain signalling me that it was time to get up and go pee. I guess what frustrates me about all this is that I have demonstrated an ability since I was small to control my dreams; why can't I just control them to the extent that somebody just walks up and says: "Hey stupid! Get up and go to the bathroom!" What I need are USEFUL lucid dreams.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Worst. Mormons. Ever.
No, not the Romneys. These weren't any kind of Mormons, or anyway I assume not. Two guys came out of a house around the block from me dressed practically identically. Both were wearing white t-shirts and black shorts. The heavier one was also wearing a bandana of sorts, so maybe they were kamikaze Mormons. It was just weird. I mean, it hardly looked like a team's uniform. Maybe they were going to be waiting tables in a very hot place. Or maybe they really were very very sloppy Mormon missionaries. I know; it's nothing Earth-shattering; I just thought it was a little weird.
A lot weirder were my dreams last night, where somebody was trying (HARD) to shoot and kill me, and my brother William saved me using a ten-foot long taser. Go William! I'm about ready to let the nightmares go. I do notice that when I wake up from these (apart from usually having to pee) I seem to be frowning, and the fatigue in my facial muscles indicates that I've been frowning for some time. Maybe it's like the rule for marriage that you should never go to bed mad. Maybe I should never go to bed frowning. Perhaps this explains the draw of Johnny Carson for all those years. Just maybe.
A lot weirder were my dreams last night, where somebody was trying (HARD) to shoot and kill me, and my brother William saved me using a ten-foot long taser. Go William! I'm about ready to let the nightmares go. I do notice that when I wake up from these (apart from usually having to pee) I seem to be frowning, and the fatigue in my facial muscles indicates that I've been frowning for some time. Maybe it's like the rule for marriage that you should never go to bed mad. Maybe I should never go to bed frowning. Perhaps this explains the draw of Johnny Carson for all those years. Just maybe.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Fake traffic sources
Blogger offers many statistics about what kind of visitors see these blogs. Unfortunately, most of them are all but useless because most of the visitors are imaginary, or anyway mechanical. For some reason, folks in Russia seem to think that there is a road to profit in having Internet robots visit blogs so that the statistics will show visitors from what appear to be search engines or sometimes YouTube videos or once, recently, Facebook. (Facebook was easy to recognize as fake because it just said facebook.com; I get a lot of real referrals from Facebook and they always include the full address of the link, with sub-directories and all.)
The idea is that we bloggers will be so excited by these visits that we will click on the apparent referrers and give them additional visitors and thus money. And I'm sure every one of us has done that. Once. Each. I'm really not sure that all this effort is going to pay off, but yet they still keep trying. It must be cheap is all I can figure.
It pisses me off. I don't mind not having many readers. I'm not sure I would mind not having any readers. (It certainly would remove any pressure to be good.:)) But it seems, even aside from being tricky and slimy, just mean to pretend to be a visitor to a stranger's blog when you're just angling for pennies.
So the last couple of days, when I still got Russian visitors but no longer got mysterious and improbable referrers in my stats, have been comparatively pleasant. I'm hoping that Blogger has finally figured out a block for this activity. I'm sure the Russians will come up with another workaround pretty soon; they always seem to. But it's a nice break, and I plan to enjoy it as long as it lasts.
The idea is that we bloggers will be so excited by these visits that we will click on the apparent referrers and give them additional visitors and thus money. And I'm sure every one of us has done that. Once. Each. I'm really not sure that all this effort is going to pay off, but yet they still keep trying. It must be cheap is all I can figure.
It pisses me off. I don't mind not having many readers. I'm not sure I would mind not having any readers. (It certainly would remove any pressure to be good.:)) But it seems, even aside from being tricky and slimy, just mean to pretend to be a visitor to a stranger's blog when you're just angling for pennies.
So the last couple of days, when I still got Russian visitors but no longer got mysterious and improbable referrers in my stats, have been comparatively pleasant. I'm hoping that Blogger has finally figured out a block for this activity. I'm sure the Russians will come up with another workaround pretty soon; they always seem to. But it's a nice break, and I plan to enjoy it as long as it lasts.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Wudder wudder
Hmmm. You don't often get those clap of thunder instantaneous miracle cures. Roughly never, I'd say. So when one happens, you're forced to conclude that most likely, practically nothing was wrong in the first place. (Or that you're having the best. placebo effect. ever!) So it was when I switched from filtered water to distilled again and all the bad tastes in my mouth went away. Much as I'd like to say that some major organ damage had been instantly averted, it makes much more sense to conclude that PUR Mineral Clear water filters add minerals (most likely chalk, since that's what it tasted most like) that I don't like much.
This doesn't change the fact that earlier I had a chronically sour taste in my mouth due to a touch of reflux and a hint of bile that I didn't particularly enjoy due to overworking the gall bladder a bit. But everything seems to be cleared up now. In the longer run, I think I'll look for a water filter that just. filters. water. Really, kids, if I want to add minerals, I can do it myself. Thanks all the same, though.
This doesn't change the fact that earlier I had a chronically sour taste in my mouth due to a touch of reflux and a hint of bile that I didn't particularly enjoy due to overworking the gall bladder a bit. But everything seems to be cleared up now. In the longer run, I think I'll look for a water filter that just. filters. water. Really, kids, if I want to add minerals, I can do it myself. Thanks all the same, though.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Shakin' Dave Aiken
Dave Aiken has been a local television personality for about as long as I've been alive. Lately, he's been reborn as a DJ on a local oldies station under the name of Shakin' Dave Aiken. Apparently, he never DJed before, but it's like he was born to it. Since he was an adult when I was a child, he must be somewhere around 70 years old by now; it's infinitely cool that he has found what he was born to do however late. I guess that means there's hope for me.:) (It's also amusing in its own right that the station he's on is called WOMG. They chose it so they could use the Magic tagline/format, but it's pretty funny per se.)
Shakin' Dave is also still the station manager for the TV outfit he's been with all these decades. So presumably he's still somewhere under 65. Hard-working cat, though!
Shakin' Dave is also still the station manager for the TV outfit he's been with all these decades. So presumably he's still somewhere under 65. Hard-working cat, though!
Friday, September 14, 2012
Wudder
Yes, yes, I know; I just won't shut up about my boring digestive problems. But trust me: if they were YOUR boring digestive problems, you wouldn't shut up about them either. What I'm remembering is that I was having similar problems three years ago, like I was poisoned and my body was trying hard to get rid of it. I quit dairy (which I never restarted) and fruit (which I did), but what really made a difference was switching to bottled purified water. All. the. time.
I know better than anybody that this sounds crazy, but the water here (where here = this house, not necessarily Olympia or Columbia. Columbia city water was once sold as bottled water by somebody. Kmart, probably, but still.) The water in this house is so strongly chlorinated it smells like a pool. Also it's so rusty it stains all the porcelain and (formerly) stainless steel. And the Monkey's water bowl.
So while it's true that my current situation got worse when I raised my fat intake too high with a flirtation with coconut milk, it's quite likely that the water is the underlying problem. I've been relying on a Pur Mineral Clear water filter on the kitchen tap, but it may be that the rust and chlorine are too much for it. I think I'll compromise and use Pur water for cooking purposes and purified water for kitty and human drinking purposes. I REALLY don't feel like going back to buying 8 gallons of purified water a week again, nor like buying a reverse osmosis filter system for a house that I don't own. Hopefully a couple of gallons a week will be sufficient.
As to the subject line, various girlfriends over the years have made fun of how I say "water." I don't know where it came from. Dad drawls, but tends to enunciate very clearly on words like that one. Mom had a touch of the geechie, but I don't recall her saying it that way either. So I don't know where I got the pure Brooklynese from. Maybe the TV.
Dreams last night were very vivid, but mercifully not retained in memory. All I recall is that there were a great many dreams, people always seemed to be in trouble, and I was always trying to help, which is a nice sort of self-image to have.
I know better than anybody that this sounds crazy, but the water here (where here = this house, not necessarily Olympia or Columbia. Columbia city water was once sold as bottled water by somebody. Kmart, probably, but still.) The water in this house is so strongly chlorinated it smells like a pool. Also it's so rusty it stains all the porcelain and (formerly) stainless steel. And the Monkey's water bowl.
So while it's true that my current situation got worse when I raised my fat intake too high with a flirtation with coconut milk, it's quite likely that the water is the underlying problem. I've been relying on a Pur Mineral Clear water filter on the kitchen tap, but it may be that the rust and chlorine are too much for it. I think I'll compromise and use Pur water for cooking purposes and purified water for kitty and human drinking purposes. I REALLY don't feel like going back to buying 8 gallons of purified water a week again, nor like buying a reverse osmosis filter system for a house that I don't own. Hopefully a couple of gallons a week will be sufficient.
As to the subject line, various girlfriends over the years have made fun of how I say "water." I don't know where it came from. Dad drawls, but tends to enunciate very clearly on words like that one. Mom had a touch of the geechie, but I don't recall her saying it that way either. So I don't know where I got the pure Brooklynese from. Maybe the TV.
Dreams last night were very vivid, but mercifully not retained in memory. All I recall is that there were a great many dreams, people always seemed to be in trouble, and I was always trying to help, which is a nice sort of self-image to have.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Pins and needles
Recently, as I've mentioned, I went largely vegetarian for a little while to try to get my gall bladder a little bit happier with me. And this went pretty well, well enough that I now accept that if I had to (or really wanted to) I could go vegetarian pretty easily. There was one trip in the Way Back Machine that I could have lived without, though.
One of the things that eventually led me to conclude that I'm celiac was the wandering neuropathy (or if you prefer, pins and needles) that I had all the time from about the time I was 30 until I quit gluten at 45. It comes from a B12 deficiency. In the case of celiacs, the deficiency is created because the part of the intestine that is supposed to absorb B12 is the part that is damaged by celiac disease. For vegetarians, it's caused by the fact that B12 is practically not found in the vegetable kingdom.
The other night, I was revisited by my old pal, wandering neuropathy. Easy to solve, of course; just take a supplement. As the B vitamins are water-soluble, it's impossible to overdose; you just pee the excess out. So Vegetarian John would just have to train himself to take the supplement every day. I seem to have mastered the kelp tablet with breakfast, so I'm sure I could manage a B complex tablet as well. Beats pins and needles any day!
Night before last my dream was so alarming I didn't even want to write about it. I was hanging out with these unknown and imaginary guys on the upper level of a two-level shopping mall when one of them killed somebody. With his bare hands. Then another of the guys got mad at the first murderer and killed HIM, also with his bare hands. And I... I went off to read a book while the police dealt with it. I got stuck on the lower level, and was really trying to get back up to the upper level to help out, but was blocked at every turn. Cell phone service was useless, too. I dunno; I kind of preferred the more normal "I've got final exams and I never studied!" kind of nightmare on the whole.
One of the things that eventually led me to conclude that I'm celiac was the wandering neuropathy (or if you prefer, pins and needles) that I had all the time from about the time I was 30 until I quit gluten at 45. It comes from a B12 deficiency. In the case of celiacs, the deficiency is created because the part of the intestine that is supposed to absorb B12 is the part that is damaged by celiac disease. For vegetarians, it's caused by the fact that B12 is practically not found in the vegetable kingdom.
The other night, I was revisited by my old pal, wandering neuropathy. Easy to solve, of course; just take a supplement. As the B vitamins are water-soluble, it's impossible to overdose; you just pee the excess out. So Vegetarian John would just have to train himself to take the supplement every day. I seem to have mastered the kelp tablet with breakfast, so I'm sure I could manage a B complex tablet as well. Beats pins and needles any day!
Night before last my dream was so alarming I didn't even want to write about it. I was hanging out with these unknown and imaginary guys on the upper level of a two-level shopping mall when one of them killed somebody. With his bare hands. Then another of the guys got mad at the first murderer and killed HIM, also with his bare hands. And I... I went off to read a book while the police dealt with it. I got stuck on the lower level, and was really trying to get back up to the upper level to help out, but was blocked at every turn. Cell phone service was useless, too. I dunno; I kind of preferred the more normal "I've got final exams and I never studied!" kind of nightmare on the whole.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
When did Joe Satriani move in next door?
The neighborhood band is really good. I mean really, really, REALLY good. This is fortunate, as they practice practically in my backyard. It appears to be the garage of a house fronting on the next street over, but I never felt the need to track them down. Regardless, they are very nearby. When I first moved here, it was just a bass player and a drummer. While they were very talented, there's only so much a bass player and a drummer can do. At some point, they picked up more players and became a reasonably talented cover band. Their only shortcoming was that the singer wasn't very good.
Last year, something happened. Presumably these are college students (tipoff: they go away for the summer) and some graduated and others joined up. Last year was like living next to freaking Woodstock without the mud. They were really outstanding, channeling the Fish, 10 Years After and early Santana. Even the singing improved.
This year, no singer. Just a power trio with this unbelievable guitar player. Only shortcoming: they only know one song. Fortunately, it's really, really, really great. I could sell tickets.
Last year, something happened. Presumably these are college students (tipoff: they go away for the summer) and some graduated and others joined up. Last year was like living next to freaking Woodstock without the mud. They were really outstanding, channeling the Fish, 10 Years After and early Santana. Even the singing improved.
This year, no singer. Just a power trio with this unbelievable guitar player. Only shortcoming: they only know one song. Fortunately, it's really, really, really great. I could sell tickets.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Peanut butter and jelly: The next generation
I know, I know, it's less than nothing, but I still thought it was funny. (How many comma splices in the preceding sentence? I dunno, but that's funny, too.) I ran out of rice cakes, so I bought some Udi's gluten-free bagels. They are unbelievably good, but even more unbelievably expensive ($6 for 4), so a rare indulgence. For breakfast I had one with natural peanut butter on half and raspberry jam (which I still would prefer no to call spreadable fruit) on the other. It was crazy mad wonderful delicious.
Five or six years ago, I never would have believed I would one day intentionally eat anything so Park Avenue as natural peanut butter and raspberry spreadable fruit on a gluten-free bagel. About that time was when every restaurant started serving salads (and hamburgers) with field greens (whatever they might be) instead of lettuce, and I ridiculed them roundly for it. Now I've joined the club. I regret only that I forgot to stick my pinkies out properly.
Meanwhile, and it's more than nothing, Dad saw the cardiologist yesterday. He said Dad was much improved over last time and wouldn't have to come back for six months. Also Gas-X is making great inroads into the continuous burping (though the cardiologist didn't say that), so things seem to be getting better all around. Yaaay!
Five or six years ago, I never would have believed I would one day intentionally eat anything so Park Avenue as natural peanut butter and raspberry spreadable fruit on a gluten-free bagel. About that time was when every restaurant started serving salads (and hamburgers) with field greens (whatever they might be) instead of lettuce, and I ridiculed them roundly for it. Now I've joined the club. I regret only that I forgot to stick my pinkies out properly.
Meanwhile, and it's more than nothing, Dad saw the cardiologist yesterday. He said Dad was much improved over last time and wouldn't have to come back for six months. Also Gas-X is making great inroads into the continuous burping (though the cardiologist didn't say that), so things seem to be getting better all around. Yaaay!
Monday, September 10, 2012
Know what's really good?
Since quitting dairy and soy some years ago, my approach to pizza has been to fake it as closely as I could using non-gluten casein-free (which I have to say because some items in the store marked "non-dairy" do in fact have casein, which is to say dairy, in them) soy-free ingredients. So I used Daiya fake cheese and Chebe bread pizza crust mix, made up using coconut milk. This combination led to me eating a lot of tapioca and coconut, as they're in both. Don't know if there's anything wrong with that except that it ended up being a pretty fatty pizza.
The only real fly in the ointment is that the Chebe bread crust never really tasted that great. It was fine as long as there were toppings on it, but the actual crust itself was a bit nasty, slightly bitter. I remembered that once I had found frozen brown rice pizza crusts somewhere and set out to find them again. Eventually I did, at 14 Carrot Natural Foods in Lexington. They cost an arm and a leg and are made from brown rice and potato flour ONLY. (Yay.)
Because of my recent trouble with fatty foods, I decided to give the Daiya a miss and go cheese free. So my current pizza-free pizza is a rice and potato flour crust, topped with tomato sauce with minced garlic stirred in, topped with black beans, green pepper, and either broccoli or kale. Yeah, I know it sounds disgusting, but it was crazy-mad delicious. Honest! I didn't believe it either.
Long ago I tried making flatbread with kale and potato and olive oil, and it was reasonably brilliant. I in turn tried it out as a pizza crust and that was fairly disastrous, if tasty. Maybe I just needed to throw in some brown rice. Hmmmmmmm.
The only real fly in the ointment is that the Chebe bread crust never really tasted that great. It was fine as long as there were toppings on it, but the actual crust itself was a bit nasty, slightly bitter. I remembered that once I had found frozen brown rice pizza crusts somewhere and set out to find them again. Eventually I did, at 14 Carrot Natural Foods in Lexington. They cost an arm and a leg and are made from brown rice and potato flour ONLY. (Yay.)
Because of my recent trouble with fatty foods, I decided to give the Daiya a miss and go cheese free. So my current pizza-free pizza is a rice and potato flour crust, topped with tomato sauce with minced garlic stirred in, topped with black beans, green pepper, and either broccoli or kale. Yeah, I know it sounds disgusting, but it was crazy-mad delicious. Honest! I didn't believe it either.
Long ago I tried making flatbread with kale and potato and olive oil, and it was reasonably brilliant. I in turn tried it out as a pizza crust and that was fairly disastrous, if tasty. Maybe I just needed to throw in some brown rice. Hmmmmmmm.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
I invented salad dressing
I was trying to decide what to do with the fragment, "...like the elevator music in Hell, except there they play "Moonlight Feels Right" by Starbuck less frequently." I guess I'll post it on Facebook and alienate my last few remaining friends there. (More likely, they'll turn out to be all closet Starbuck fans.)
Before that, I was trying to make a faboo new dessert offering. Avocado chocolate pudding was so brilliant that I suppose it blinded me to my own limitations as a kitchen magician. (That should rhyme. Why doesn't it? Where does that "sh" sound in "magician" come from? Frowns.) I decided to combine avocado with honey, blackberry jam (the jar still says "spreadable fruit," but it's jam, dammit) and walnuts. Aaaaand as a dessert, it was a fiasco. Maybe with more honey and if I'd pulverized the walnuts it would have worked. Maybe.
However, I think it would be the best salad dressing possible. I don't eat salads often as such, but if you want to try it, take an avocado and throw it in a blender. You may want to remove the skin and pit, of course. Add water to cover. Smear. (My single-serve blender only has one button, labeled Pulse. If yours has more, choose that one.)
In the container that you'll be serving from (unless you really enjoy removing sticky honey from things), mix avocado goop with one tablespoon of honey, one tablespoon of blackberry jam (mine is from Aldi, but if Aldi is pretentious enough to sell something called "spreadable fruit," it's a good bet that everyone else is, too) and a quarter cup of chopped walnuts. For dessert purposes, the walnuts are too chunky and fairly annoying, but for salad dressing purposes I think they would add interest. Also they can't sneak up on you.
Meanwhile, in dreamland, last night I was very confused. Darth Vader was trying to kill somebody, though I don't think it was me. Then he was driving around in a car. It's possible my brain got him confused with the Terminator. Even in my sleep, I thought it was pretty funny.
Before that, I was trying to make a faboo new dessert offering. Avocado chocolate pudding was so brilliant that I suppose it blinded me to my own limitations as a kitchen magician. (That should rhyme. Why doesn't it? Where does that "sh" sound in "magician" come from? Frowns.) I decided to combine avocado with honey, blackberry jam (the jar still says "spreadable fruit," but it's jam, dammit) and walnuts. Aaaaand as a dessert, it was a fiasco. Maybe with more honey and if I'd pulverized the walnuts it would have worked. Maybe.
However, I think it would be the best salad dressing possible. I don't eat salads often as such, but if you want to try it, take an avocado and throw it in a blender. You may want to remove the skin and pit, of course. Add water to cover. Smear. (My single-serve blender only has one button, labeled Pulse. If yours has more, choose that one.)
In the container that you'll be serving from (unless you really enjoy removing sticky honey from things), mix avocado goop with one tablespoon of honey, one tablespoon of blackberry jam (mine is from Aldi, but if Aldi is pretentious enough to sell something called "spreadable fruit," it's a good bet that everyone else is, too) and a quarter cup of chopped walnuts. For dessert purposes, the walnuts are too chunky and fairly annoying, but for salad dressing purposes I think they would add interest. Also they can't sneak up on you.
Meanwhile, in dreamland, last night I was very confused. Darth Vader was trying to kill somebody, though I don't think it was me. Then he was driving around in a car. It's possible my brain got him confused with the Terminator. Even in my sleep, I thought it was pretty funny.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Borrowed creativity
I am fairly obsessed with iPad and Droid apps, especially the ones that emulate musical instruments. I have at least a dozen, maybe two dozen. All of them are free, which is particularly wonderful. But what that means is that competition is fairly cut-throat; to make any money, they have to make the app attractive enough to make you want to play with it long enough that you'll look at the ads. (Perhaps I'm a little cynical.) Operationally, it means that the apps are pretty near idiot-proof. Whatever you do is going to sound good. (OK, not the Virtual Theremin. But all the rest of them!)
I AM a little cynical, but even I find myself feeling like a musical genius when I tap on the little screen and pretty sounds come out. And this tapping is roughly equivalent to what you do with your fingers when you're bored in a waiting room; I mean, nothing sophisticated. I can just imagine little tiny kids, and more especially their proud parents, thinking they're geniuses for mastering these wonderful apps.
And on one hand, it's really, really neat. As a child, I was frustrated trying to take up music because I couldn't instantly pick up playing the piano or the guitar. (Also because I'm really, really lazy.) So the boundary of difficulty is just blown to smithereens. (Granted, a kid could play a ukulele or a toy piano, but beautiful music was seldom the result.)
I don't know what little kid me would have thought with access to this software, but considering how big kid me reacts, I suspect he would think he's the next Mozart. And it may be that this is a great thing, that millions of little kids might think they're the next Mozart, or it might be a problem. Because this is just borrowed creativity; we app musicians are just relying on the astonishing creativity of the app programmers. Left to our own devices (ooh, a pun!), we're just thumping our fingers on a table.
But I guess you could say the same thing about a piano, when you get down to it. I guess my point is not that there's anything wrong with borrowed creativity. But look out for that army of toddler Mozarts headed this way!
I AM a little cynical, but even I find myself feeling like a musical genius when I tap on the little screen and pretty sounds come out. And this tapping is roughly equivalent to what you do with your fingers when you're bored in a waiting room; I mean, nothing sophisticated. I can just imagine little tiny kids, and more especially their proud parents, thinking they're geniuses for mastering these wonderful apps.
And on one hand, it's really, really neat. As a child, I was frustrated trying to take up music because I couldn't instantly pick up playing the piano or the guitar. (Also because I'm really, really lazy.) So the boundary of difficulty is just blown to smithereens. (Granted, a kid could play a ukulele or a toy piano, but beautiful music was seldom the result.)
I don't know what little kid me would have thought with access to this software, but considering how big kid me reacts, I suspect he would think he's the next Mozart. And it may be that this is a great thing, that millions of little kids might think they're the next Mozart, or it might be a problem. Because this is just borrowed creativity; we app musicians are just relying on the astonishing creativity of the app programmers. Left to our own devices (ooh, a pun!), we're just thumping our fingers on a table.
But I guess you could say the same thing about a piano, when you get down to it. I guess my point is not that there's anything wrong with borrowed creativity. But look out for that army of toddler Mozarts headed this way!
Friday, September 7, 2012
Part of this balanced breakfast
I think I mentioned already that my problem with feeling bilious all the time (literally, not figuratively) started with going overboard with the coconut milk but started improving when I added rice cakes to most meals. My breakfast never struck me as conspicuously greasy as it's a frittata with green beans (and one egg) along with either teff or amaranth as hot cereal, and I drink an orange and half a banana blended with filtered water.
Since I added two rice cakes with jam (spreadable fruit, if you must), I feel a lot better afterwards. (Also it looks a lot more like "this balanced breakfast" from the old TV commercials.) It still makes no sense to me, since rice cakes have practically no nutritional value, not even any fiber to speak of. I'm guessing that the puffed rice absorbs some of the grease and carries it away, but since it still has to carry it away through the digestive system, this idea doesn't make much sense either. Still, it seems to work, so I'll run with it.
Dad has been burping uncontrollably for weeks and weeks now. He eats a fairly greasy diet, and generally refuses to eat bread. I've been trying gently to suggest that my own experience might suggest that he may want to add bread back to his diet. But he prefers pills. Sigh.
Since I added two rice cakes with jam (spreadable fruit, if you must), I feel a lot better afterwards. (Also it looks a lot more like "this balanced breakfast" from the old TV commercials.) It still makes no sense to me, since rice cakes have practically no nutritional value, not even any fiber to speak of. I'm guessing that the puffed rice absorbs some of the grease and carries it away, but since it still has to carry it away through the digestive system, this idea doesn't make much sense either. Still, it seems to work, so I'll run with it.
Dad has been burping uncontrollably for weeks and weeks now. He eats a fairly greasy diet, and generally refuses to eat bread. I've been trying gently to suggest that my own experience might suggest that he may want to add bread back to his diet. But he prefers pills. Sigh.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Weirder PSAs
I mentioned in February or so the slew of very odd new public service announcements (PSAS to their friends) coming on to the radio all at once. It seems like this happens every six months, because late last month another blizzard of them appeared, even stranger than the last.
One set is aimed at getting kids to go out into the forest. Counterprogramming to "Hansel & Gretel"? I don't know! The most notable features a banana slug representing the kid's sense of adventure. Now I'm getting on in years, and it's been a long time since I've been a kid, but I have serious doubts whether any kid is going to hear this and go, "Hell yeah! I gotta get out to the forest!"
There's also more of the very odd "Feed the pig" campaign from some bunch of accountants in question. The pig in question is a piggy bank and the thrust is that people ought to save more. Again, not seeing much persuasiveness here.
I'd like to think that these are only played on sports talk radio and this is because radio execs think that sports talk radio listeners have the IQ of household plants. But I hear these on every format radio station (admittedly, more often in the wee hours when said radio execs unload all their PSAs to meet legal requirements that they play them). I guess what I'm saying is; Ad Council, you should maybe try harder.
Nothing to do with PSAs, but while I'm Andy Rooneying radio ads, there's a local one where a home supply outfit says that their entry doors will be the "vocal point" of any home renovation. Face. Palm. This, of course, reflects wonderfully on our town on the rare occasion that we have visitors. Another tip: Proofreading is actually legal in this country.
Dreams last night were highly unmemorable, so y'all get cut a break. All I remember is going to Cici's, fully cognizant that I am or might be celiac. I woke up before any pipers had to be paid, however.
One set is aimed at getting kids to go out into the forest. Counterprogramming to "Hansel & Gretel"? I don't know! The most notable features a banana slug representing the kid's sense of adventure. Now I'm getting on in years, and it's been a long time since I've been a kid, but I have serious doubts whether any kid is going to hear this and go, "Hell yeah! I gotta get out to the forest!"
There's also more of the very odd "Feed the pig" campaign from some bunch of accountants in question. The pig in question is a piggy bank and the thrust is that people ought to save more. Again, not seeing much persuasiveness here.
I'd like to think that these are only played on sports talk radio and this is because radio execs think that sports talk radio listeners have the IQ of household plants. But I hear these on every format radio station (admittedly, more often in the wee hours when said radio execs unload all their PSAs to meet legal requirements that they play them). I guess what I'm saying is; Ad Council, you should maybe try harder.
Nothing to do with PSAs, but while I'm Andy Rooneying radio ads, there's a local one where a home supply outfit says that their entry doors will be the "vocal point" of any home renovation. Face. Palm. This, of course, reflects wonderfully on our town on the rare occasion that we have visitors. Another tip: Proofreading is actually legal in this country.
Dreams last night were highly unmemorable, so y'all get cut a break. All I remember is going to Cici's, fully cognizant that I am or might be celiac. I woke up before any pipers had to be paid, however.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Missing Buddy
There's a little dog up the street who's my emergency backup best friend. He's very, very friendly, or perhaps very, very aggressive in a way that I choose to interpret as friendliness. He lives in a house on a fenced lot, so I don't have to find out the hard way which it is. He looks sort of like a Jack Russell terrier and sort of like a beagle. He might be a mix, of course. His name is Buddy.
His owner is not too well off. He, too, is friendly or aggressive in a way that I choose to interpret as friendliness. He has a very serious set of warts to the south and east (well, west from his point of view) of his mouth which might explain the standoffishness. He complains about the music blaring from neighborhood cars, particularly the repeated use of the f-word. It's fairly ironic to hear somebody complaining about a song that goes, "F--- all day/ F--- all night" by SAYing "F--- all day/ F--- all night" without the hyphens. (I'm not being squeamish; just don't want the Google hits that spelling it out would invite.)
The owner had a lot of stuff out on his porch, like a refrigerator for example. All that is gone. Maybe he's gone out of town for a visit and just brought everything inside. If he died or moved, one would expect that there would be a For Sale or a For Rent sign in the yard, and there isn't. So hopefully they'll be back soon. But I miss Buddy and wish him well.
Dreams of course continue to be odd. I was with my friend Evans, who in real life has been dead for five years, at an art exhibit that was either the student art show at the State Fair or a new (imaginary) museum. The paintings were all hanging 20 feet up the walls, too high to see, and the only other thing I remember were poorly rendered representations of sides of meat. We got separated and I had no way home. Of course, in real life the State Fairgrounds are about three blocks from my house. So maybe a reasonable interpretation would be that you're never as lost as you think you are. I can go for it.
His owner is not too well off. He, too, is friendly or aggressive in a way that I choose to interpret as friendliness. He has a very serious set of warts to the south and east (well, west from his point of view) of his mouth which might explain the standoffishness. He complains about the music blaring from neighborhood cars, particularly the repeated use of the f-word. It's fairly ironic to hear somebody complaining about a song that goes, "F--- all day/ F--- all night" by SAYing "F--- all day/ F--- all night" without the hyphens. (I'm not being squeamish; just don't want the Google hits that spelling it out would invite.)
The owner had a lot of stuff out on his porch, like a refrigerator for example. All that is gone. Maybe he's gone out of town for a visit and just brought everything inside. If he died or moved, one would expect that there would be a For Sale or a For Rent sign in the yard, and there isn't. So hopefully they'll be back soon. But I miss Buddy and wish him well.
Dreams of course continue to be odd. I was with my friend Evans, who in real life has been dead for five years, at an art exhibit that was either the student art show at the State Fair or a new (imaginary) museum. The paintings were all hanging 20 feet up the walls, too high to see, and the only other thing I remember were poorly rendered representations of sides of meat. We got separated and I had no way home. Of course, in real life the State Fairgrounds are about three blocks from my house. So maybe a reasonable interpretation would be that you're never as lost as you think you are. I can go for it.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Forgot cellphone
Saturday, I was charging the cell phone and I just forgot it. Paul and I were going out for Indian food, and I found I was cell-less. As I said to Paul, "It's 2010 again!" No crisis occurred; there were no calls of any kind while I was cell free. So all's well that ends well. It was certainly liberating. It reminded me of eons ago when I was a property manager and had to wear a beeper at all times. That wasn't too much fun, either. I guess that's the difference between corporations and people: corporations get paid for 24-hour monitoring services.
Dreams this time were odd as ever. This time, I had a new job somewhere along the coast of South Carolina. When I arrived, I recognized the town name on the welcome sign, but immediately forgot it. This may be because my brain had just made up a new town and didn't want me to be distracted by that fact. I stayed in a motel, which I liked, but when I went to pay they said that because it's high season I had to pay for the entire preceding week even though I had only stayed one night. I was all set to argue, sure I would win, when I woke up. And it occurred to me that this is probably why I piss people off. I'm always set to argue, and always sure I'll win. And it shows, a bit.
Dreams this time were odd as ever. This time, I had a new job somewhere along the coast of South Carolina. When I arrived, I recognized the town name on the welcome sign, but immediately forgot it. This may be because my brain had just made up a new town and didn't want me to be distracted by that fact. I stayed in a motel, which I liked, but when I went to pay they said that because it's high season I had to pay for the entire preceding week even though I had only stayed one night. I was all set to argue, sure I would win, when I woke up. And it occurred to me that this is probably why I piss people off. I'm always set to argue, and always sure I'll win. And it shows, a bit.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Dongo should be a word
Apparently, there is one town each in Africa and Europe by that name, and a monster in a sci-fi themed computer game, but that's about it. I think there should be a movement. Find something unnamed and call it a dongo. Or name one of these newly discovered planets Dongo. Planet Dongo has a ring to it, don't you think? I'd move there like a shot. Kicks butt all over Kolob anyway.
Dreams last night were not as insane as the preceding paragraph. There was the usual moving about between mysterious buildings for no apparent reason. Then after I hit the snooze button I actually succeeded at getting back to sleep, and dreamed I was insulting George W. Bush to his face most thoroughly. A rare completely satisfactory dream! Building on this, perhaps someday I can be Lord High Dongo. One can hope.
Dreams last night were not as insane as the preceding paragraph. There was the usual moving about between mysterious buildings for no apparent reason. Then after I hit the snooze button I actually succeeded at getting back to sleep, and dreamed I was insulting George W. Bush to his face most thoroughly. A rare completely satisfactory dream! Building on this, perhaps someday I can be Lord High Dongo. One can hope.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Beautiful
I'm rereading Dick Francis again. His ingenues tend to be beautiful. We know, because he tells us so. But the description tends to run to, "She had black hair, brown eyes, neat features and a trim figure." I dunno, I sort of feel like a little more description might be useful, or at least a comparison. I tend to go in for "looks like Reese Witherspoon" for one young lady whom I admire. Admittedly, fame fades and time passes, but "looks like Audrey Hepburn" or "looks like Natalie Wood" probably still work, all these years later.
On the other hand, you can go too far in that direction. One of those E people, Elmore Leonard or Ed McBain, has his characters arguing over which famous person a given character looks like. (It was Leonard, in "Maximum Bob.") Funny, funny stuff, and even helpful in giving the reader more to visualize. But a little weird.
On the other hand, you can go too far in that direction. One of those E people, Elmore Leonard or Ed McBain, has his characters arguing over which famous person a given character looks like. (It was Leonard, in "Maximum Bob.") Funny, funny stuff, and even helpful in giving the reader more to visualize. But a little weird.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Mrs. O'Grady
Waiting to get in at dialysis today, Dad told me that this place reminds him of a line from a poem: Mrs. O'Grady and the captain's lady are sisters under the skin. (The great majority of his fellow dialysis patients are black.) This reassures me that Dad's heart and mind are still in the right place. Google indicates that his Kipling is a little iffy, but that's OK, too.
Last night I must have been cold, since I dreamed about Arctic exploration. It was very exciting though. I didn't know they had volcanoes up there! But motoring around in a boat shaped like a bathtub was fairly nerve-wracking!
Last night I must have been cold, since I dreamed about Arctic exploration. It was very exciting though. I didn't know they had volcanoes up there! But motoring around in a boat shaped like a bathtub was fairly nerve-wracking!
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