Ms. Packratty has a serious issue with the push to force people to use compact fluorescent bulbs. There's a light quality - to her they are sort of the processed cheese food of light bulbs - but they also contain mercury. And people are not going to recycle them, they are going to throw them in the trash.
So anyway, she's been stuffing light bulbs by the box into the tall space at the top of the linen closet and today, when she was picking up some wood putty and sandpaper for the coming stair finishing festivities, her local Home Depot had a special. Boxes of 4 60 watt bulbs for 25 cents a BOX. Ms. Packratty bought $5 worth - 80 bulbs. They are some weird offbrand, but Ms. P suspects she will nonetheless get more than 6.25 cents worth of use out of each of them.
And speaking of energy, Ms. Packratty had commented on a friend's Facebook that she was desirous of purchasing a bottom freezer fridge unit as she is tall and tired of bending over to see the contents of the fridge and having to kneel on the floor when the fridge needs a thorough cleaning. Another friend of her friend posted a reply pompously informing her that a bottom freezer was less efficient than a top freezer and that Consumer Reports blah blah blah. So when Ms. Packratty was in the Home Depot, she compared the energy estimates on a GE bottom freezer fridge of 22 CF and one for a top freezer of 21.8 (close enough, in other words). The big energy savings that Ms. Packratty should sacrifice her back and knees for? FIVE dollars a YEAR. Five hundred pennies 41.6 CENTS a month. Yes, indeedy. That's advice from Consumer Reports on the par with their ridiculous advice on dog and cat food, in which they posited that corn and starch-laden cheap foods were a better value than meat protein based foods. Which is when CR basically lost most of their credibility with Ms. Packratty.
Speaking of consumer issues - have you ever felt like screaming at the television over an advertisement? This morning, Ms. Packratty was running around preparing for work when an ad appeared on the television. In the ad, this purported mother was talking about how her child - who appeared to be four or five years old - would not eat - "anything green" or this or that, "until it finally began to affect her growth" when "mom" consulted the doctor, who "told" her to feed the kid a canned vitamin-enhanced milkshake called Pediasure. Excuse me? What is happening to parents? Do they not have the sense to deal with their own children? Letting a child pull something like that over eating to the extent they were worried about their health is insane. Absolutely, totally insane. And any doctor who would prescribe fortified milkshakes as an alternative to real food for an otherwise healthy child ought to be defrocked.
Someone Ms. Packratty knows was confronted with a grandchild who was using eating as a way to control his parents. The Wise Grandmother invited the parents to leave the grandchild with her at the beach and for the parents to go off and have a vacation of their own. The first time grandson declined what was offered at a meal as well as the proffered leftovers from a prior meal and demanded something not on the menu, the Wise Grandmother looked calmly at the Picky Grandson and said "You must be ill, if you can't eat this nice whatever. Let's get you into bed for the afternoon." So while other children were with their Wise Grandfather at the beach and tennis court, the Picky Grandson spent the afternoon in bed. At dinner, the PG again declined the offered dinner or a chicken sandwich and demanded a hamburger and french fries. The Wise Grandmother again looked at him and said "That isn't what we have tonight. If you can't eat the ham or a chicken sandwich, you must still be feeling ill. Off to bed with you." And the PG spent the evening in bed while the other grandchildren had ice cream, played Monopoly and went to the movies at the Beach Club.
The next morning, the PG threw a temper tantrum at breakfast, refusing scrambled eggs, oatmeal or Cherrios and demanding some chocolate flavored cereal. The WG put him right back in bed and so it went for another entire day. On the evening of the second day, the PG actually ate some of his boiled shrimp, but refused salad, rice and the other parts of the dinner, so he got no dessert and had to go to bed early. But lo and behold, on the next morning, the PG came out of the young boys' bunkroom at the beach house early and found his Grandfather making some oatmeal and marched up and said "Grandpa, may I please have some oatmeal with brown sugar?" And that was that. Ever after, all his mother or father had to do if he started playing food games was to put him to bed because a boy who won't eat "must be feeling ill". You can't cater to those sorts of games with children. Pediasure - for a perfectly healthy child? The problem there isn't the child's nutrition, but a lack of calcium in the parental spines.
And now, if you will excuse her, Ms. Packratty really is going to the dogs. She needs to head out of here and go tend the pooches and collect her overnight bag.
Friday, September 04, 2009
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
So much for cash for clunkers
Observed this Sunday at a local parking lot. Seriously, folks, if the cops pull people over for a burned out brake light, exactly how does this thing make it even a mile down the road?
This is sheer insanity that something like this is allowed to move on the public streets. But there it is.
As I was walking into the store this was parked in front off, I saw a man coming out with a very odd expression on his face. I turned and watched, and it was the owner of this hunk of junk. He struck me as having ... problems deeper than the condition of his ride.
The monthly death march of month end close has started and, off course, GA 400 did me in this morning. I left the house with a 15 minute margin of error and ended up late - not only did I use up the margin, but another 18 minutes besides. One disabled car and a 4 car fender-bender caused the road to back up for close to 20 miles and 40 minutes. Go figure. Imagine if it had happened during real rush hour instead of between 9 and 10 a.m.?I'm also very pleased - I used a Tuesday Morning gift certificate that was about to expire to snag an Outward Hound dog booster seat for the PU's pup who likes to see out and tries to ride in laps. Now I just have to get it all mailed. I have about a crate of stuff to send down there.
I am still trying to make sense of the new camera, but perhaps I'll have a chance to study it in the evenings at Marleen's next week. Turns out there will be three pups in residence rather than two, but my feeling is - what's 50% more poop? You''re cleaning up after two, might as well clean up after three. And there's the fun factor - watching three puppies is about 500% more amusing than two. Pictures, I hope, to follow. Along with pictures of the work on the house. I hope.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Charlie Rufus, Terrier Extraordinaire
I'm very proud of my Charlie this week for a couple of reasons.
Saturday morning, Charlie went with me to the Peachtree Road Farmer's market . It's a very exciting place for a dog - lots of people of all ages, other dogs, good smells, the possibility of scraps of something tasty, as well as the lady with the home-baked doggie treats.
Charlie was in fine form Saturday, he was behaving very well and making friends left and right and really being very good. he sat quietly and let any number of small folks pat him - I've been very pleased with his tolerance for the attentions of children. But then, on our way out, we stopped to get a few yellow squash and some figs at the Taylor's booth and there was a little girl with glorious red curls who was watching Charlie with a mixture of fear and curiosity. I asked her if she wanted to pat him and she shrank away in fear. Just as I was thinking "What a pity for a little girl to be so fearful", her father who was standing behind me, told me that a large dog had jumped in their car when she was small and licked her all over the face while she was in the baby seat and couldn't fend him off and that she had been scared ever since.
Well, I sat down on the curbing and asked the little girl, whose name was Susannah, if she would pat Charlie if I held him tight so that he would not lick her, that it would be up to her to touch him. And darned if my little fellow didn't snuggle up to me and sit patiently while this little girl got her courage up to pat him. Not once or twice, but a dozen times. She even got the nerve up to look at his face and ask me why his eyes had black rims and why his lips were black. And then she went over to the dog treat lady, picked out a treat and put the treat on the ground right in front of my boy. And he didn't snarf it or gulp or grab, he picked it up and carried it.
Then later, at Marleen's, he was out on the back patio and he was patiently letting the two Norwich pups and Jack's son chew on him, chase him and generally harass him, without any impatience with the pups. Nancy seemed to realize that he was no danger to the pups as she made no effort to get between them and him.
All in all, my dear boy did very well and behaved like the dog I've been hoping he would become. Good boy, Charlie.
Saturday morning, Charlie went with me to the Peachtree Road Farmer's market . It's a very exciting place for a dog - lots of people of all ages, other dogs, good smells, the possibility of scraps of something tasty, as well as the lady with the home-baked doggie treats.
Charlie was in fine form Saturday, he was behaving very well and making friends left and right and really being very good. he sat quietly and let any number of small folks pat him - I've been very pleased with his tolerance for the attentions of children. But then, on our way out, we stopped to get a few yellow squash and some figs at the Taylor's booth and there was a little girl with glorious red curls who was watching Charlie with a mixture of fear and curiosity. I asked her if she wanted to pat him and she shrank away in fear. Just as I was thinking "What a pity for a little girl to be so fearful", her father who was standing behind me, told me that a large dog had jumped in their car when she was small and licked her all over the face while she was in the baby seat and couldn't fend him off and that she had been scared ever since.
Well, I sat down on the curbing and asked the little girl, whose name was Susannah, if she would pat Charlie if I held him tight so that he would not lick her, that it would be up to her to touch him. And darned if my little fellow didn't snuggle up to me and sit patiently while this little girl got her courage up to pat him. Not once or twice, but a dozen times. She even got the nerve up to look at his face and ask me why his eyes had black rims and why his lips were black. And then she went over to the dog treat lady, picked out a treat and put the treat on the ground right in front of my boy. And he didn't snarf it or gulp or grab, he picked it up and carried it.
Then later, at Marleen's, he was out on the back patio and he was patiently letting the two Norwich pups and Jack's son chew on him, chase him and generally harass him, without any impatience with the pups. Nancy seemed to realize that he was no danger to the pups as she made no effort to get between them and him.
All in all, my dear boy did very well and behaved like the dog I've been hoping he would become. Good boy, Charlie.
Friday, August 28, 2009
And the Rains Came ...
Somewhere around 5 a.m. Friday, Ms. Packratty was awakened by the thunderous drumming of rain on the roof. No thunder - just a torrential blast of rain that apparently dropped about 2-3 inches of rain in the space of 90 minutes to 2 hours. That amount is estimated after emptying the plant trays outside the front door and looking at the level of the pool in the condo complex, where the water was close to the top of the tile coping.
It was still wet enough at Charlie walking time for him to get quite drenched - he's so smart - he knows that when he's wet, he's supposed to go into the travel crate with the nice clean dry towels.
For a brief moment, Ms. Packratty actually thought she was back in her tiny cinderblock rental house that she lived in as a young reporter in Beaufort SC — the back side of the house had a tin roof and a good rainstorm was an event. That house, sadly, was soon after her departure from Beaufort, torn down to make way for an anonymously ugly apartment complex.
The temperatures took a plunge too - it is about 10 degrees cooler hour-by-hour today, than it was on Thursday. Marvelous. And it is payday, as well. All told, the ingredients for a better than decent day.
It followed on the heels of a delightful evening with Ms. Basketcasecafe, a classmate from the bookbinding class last winter. We have been meeting once a week to catch up and we're making friends ... Ms. B is exceedingly talented in the webpage area of the world, a skill Ms. P envies terribly but suspects she does not have the patience to master.
With the weekend at hand and the fact that Ms. P is the Officer of the Day, so to speak, and has to stick close to home and access to the internet connection, there are high hopes of a productive weekend. But heavens, after last weekend's baked bean frenzy, there is plenty of the cleaning still to do - so rather than make ambitious plans, Ms. P is going to be conservative and just take it as it comes - the library, picking up the veg co-op and possibly going to the farmer's market for tomatoes are about all of the hard and fast plans, although she hopes to get the kitchen recovered completely from the Beans Of Hell.
The sad thing that Ms. Packratty does not understand is seeing people - many of whom have more creative and remunerative jobs than she - spend their weeks counting the days until the weekend arrives. While Ms. P hardly sails into work singing, she does not dread the workweek very often, except when she ill enough to feel dreadful, but not ill enough to use a precious sick or vacation day. Oh well, they have to live their lives as best they can and Ms. P has to live hers - but she feels slightly sorry for them somehow - spending 40 hours of your life - or more - focused on the 48 in the weekend seems a bit starved.
It was still wet enough at Charlie walking time for him to get quite drenched - he's so smart - he knows that when he's wet, he's supposed to go into the travel crate with the nice clean dry towels.For a brief moment, Ms. Packratty actually thought she was back in her tiny cinderblock rental house that she lived in as a young reporter in Beaufort SC — the back side of the house had a tin roof and a good rainstorm was an event. That house, sadly, was soon after her departure from Beaufort, torn down to make way for an anonymously ugly apartment complex.
The temperatures took a plunge too - it is about 10 degrees cooler hour-by-hour today, than it was on Thursday. Marvelous. And it is payday, as well. All told, the ingredients for a better than decent day.
It followed on the heels of a delightful evening with Ms. Basketcasecafe, a classmate from the bookbinding class last winter. We have been meeting once a week to catch up and we're making friends ... Ms. B is exceedingly talented in the webpage area of the world, a skill Ms. P envies terribly but suspects she does not have the patience to master.
With the weekend at hand and the fact that Ms. P is the Officer of the Day, so to speak, and has to stick close to home and access to the internet connection, there are high hopes of a productive weekend. But heavens, after last weekend's baked bean frenzy, there is plenty of the cleaning still to do - so rather than make ambitious plans, Ms. P is going to be conservative and just take it as it comes - the library, picking up the veg co-op and possibly going to the farmer's market for tomatoes are about all of the hard and fast plans, although she hopes to get the kitchen recovered completely from the Beans Of Hell.
The sad thing that Ms. Packratty does not understand is seeing people - many of whom have more creative and remunerative jobs than she - spend their weeks counting the days until the weekend arrives. While Ms. P hardly sails into work singing, she does not dread the workweek very often, except when she ill enough to feel dreadful, but not ill enough to use a precious sick or vacation day. Oh well, they have to live their lives as best they can and Ms. P has to live hers - but she feels slightly sorry for them somehow - spending 40 hours of your life - or more - focused on the 48 in the weekend seems a bit starved.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Excuuuuse me?
NEW YORK – Crystal Renn was miserable as a super-thin model who had heart palpitations when she'd worry that there might be calories in Diet Coke.
Her moment of epiphany came when "I couldn't walk another step without being exhausted, or having hair clumps falling out." She knew she needed to live in the body she was supposed to have — specifically a curvy size 12.
Just how the Hades does a size 12 translate to plus size? The *average* American woman is a 14. The notion that a size 12 is a model for plus size just makes me want to throw things.
St. Willis of Carrier
Truly, this man:
should be one of the patron saints of the South.
Last night, massive storms manages to skirt and even spritz the general vicinity of Chez Packrat, but there was no rain, just humidity. So this morning was as sticky as treacle, too warm in the house to even make breakfast. So the a/c is back on, drat it.
Ms. Packratty is looking forward to Labor Day. She has Monday off and then is working half days the remainder of the week because - DRUMROLL PLEASE - the plan is that she is going to stay at Marleen's house and finally get the stair treads polyurethaned. The weekend will be reserved to clearing stuff away and making ready and starting Tuesday afternoon, the top flights will get a first coat, with a second coat on Wednesday; the bottom flight should get a first coat on Wednesday and a second coat on Thursday. Third coats Thursday and Friday is needed, then Ms. P will begin the process of taping off and painting the risers, which can be done a few at a time and without major misery. By working half days, I only use 2 days of my precious remaining holiday time and I should be able to keep myself from overdoing. One hopes.
Tack cloths
Polyurethane high gloss
Latex enamel in bright white
Blue painters tape
find the kneepads
Once that's done, it's back to squirrelling money away toward laying the flooring in the living room and dining room. With some car bills probably coming up and another potential household cost - over and above the furnace and a/c, a conservative approach is required ...
should be one of the patron saints of the South.
Last night, massive storms manages to skirt and even spritz the general vicinity of Chez Packrat, but there was no rain, just humidity. So this morning was as sticky as treacle, too warm in the house to even make breakfast. So the a/c is back on, drat it.
Ms. Packratty is looking forward to Labor Day. She has Monday off and then is working half days the remainder of the week because - DRUMROLL PLEASE - the plan is that she is going to stay at Marleen's house and finally get the stair treads polyurethaned. The weekend will be reserved to clearing stuff away and making ready and starting Tuesday afternoon, the top flights will get a first coat, with a second coat on Wednesday; the bottom flight should get a first coat on Wednesday and a second coat on Thursday. Third coats Thursday and Friday is needed, then Ms. P will begin the process of taping off and painting the risers, which can be done a few at a time and without major misery. By working half days, I only use 2 days of my precious remaining holiday time and I should be able to keep myself from overdoing. One hopes.
Tack cloths
Polyurethane high gloss
Latex enamel in bright white
Blue painters tape
find the kneepads
Once that's done, it's back to squirrelling money away toward laying the flooring in the living room and dining room. With some car bills probably coming up and another potential household cost - over and above the furnace and a/c, a conservative approach is required ...
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Sigh of Relief, Maybe
The car's service manual said that the light that was on and blinking might be caused by a loose gas cap and to remove and replace it and drive on carefully. Lo and behold, the light is gone. I'm still holding my breath, as there are some other things that the poor baby Buick needs done, but if I can just avoid a horror story for a little while ...
It's hot again, I'm debating whether to turn the a/c back on or hope that the storm moving up from the southwest will cool things off a bit more quickly. Temps are forecast in the mid 60s every night, so it is hard to justify having the expensive a/c on when it's 12 degrees cooler outside in the am than it is inside with the a/c running. Someone needs to invent an air system that senses when the outside temp has dropped below the thermostat level and open an intake and pull in, filter and dry outside air.
Time to go to bed and try to sleep. The only good night of sleep I've had in 3+ weeks was when I took my last sleeping pill. Seeing the doctor week after next to get scripts refilled - I think I went 2 years on a scrip for 30, so that's not excessive. Heaven would be an Ambien every night, I think. I can't remember the last time I slept more than 5 hours straight. Fibromyalgia is a real pain that way.
It's hot again, I'm debating whether to turn the a/c back on or hope that the storm moving up from the southwest will cool things off a bit more quickly. Temps are forecast in the mid 60s every night, so it is hard to justify having the expensive a/c on when it's 12 degrees cooler outside in the am than it is inside with the a/c running. Someone needs to invent an air system that senses when the outside temp has dropped below the thermostat level and open an intake and pull in, filter and dry outside air.
Time to go to bed and try to sleep. The only good night of sleep I've had in 3+ weeks was when I took my last sleeping pill. Seeing the doctor week after next to get scripts refilled - I think I went 2 years on a scrip for 30, so that's not excessive. Heaven would be an Ambien every night, I think. I can't remember the last time I slept more than 5 hours straight. Fibromyalgia is a real pain that way.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Math-Impaired
Has Ms. Packratty mentioned what a dunce she is at the mathematics? She just had a panic-stricken moment when she realized that she had added instead of subtracting and it took some fast footwork with the emergency fund to prevent an overdraft. By, gee whiz, roughly the amount of the office party cooking expenditure.
Oh well.
And now the car is saying it needs attention. Dammit.
What was it that Dorothy Parker said? "What fresh Hell is this?" Story of my life.
Oh well.
And now the car is saying it needs attention. Dammit.
What was it that Dorothy Parker said? "What fresh Hell is this?" Story of my life.
Monday, August 24, 2009
And how was the rest of the weekend?
Now, on to the weekend. How bad could it be, you ask?
Well, try this - stayed up late prepping the baked beans; cost of beans and salt pork and other ingredients $13.09, plus disposable chafing dish $12.88. Then put them up for the night, tried to sleep and the house was overheated as the result of having the oven on, slept very poorly; up at 7:30 a.m., walked dog, etc., got box to pack the pans in for transport; bought 5 packages of hamburger buns and 5 packages of hotdog buns $17.70. At 9:30 a.m. put the beans in to reheat, at 10:45 a.m. got them out and packed them in box with newspapers to cushion and insulate; cost of aluminum pans and covers $5.98; showered, dressed, carried stuff out to car, drove to Piedmont Park toll .50 cents, gas undetermined; schlepped beans, dog, buns, water and chafing dish set to site; was subjected to loud music, too much heat, approximately 20 percent of those who said they would bring food had not showed by the time I escaped; after about 1 hour 45 minutes, I nibbled on a rib and ate a bit of my beans (side dishes and dessert being among the dishes of the missing "team" members), Charlie was getting more and more skittish due to noise and my headache was escalating, so I skulked off before the party games could begin as I hate, despise and detest such activities with a passion. Parking $4.75, plus another .50 cent toll. Grand total for 2 hours of relative misery and misfittery - 6 hours of work related to preparing food and $55.40 cents in direct costs for buying and preparing and transporting the food and myself to the park. Gas costs not included. I can't afford any more "fun" or "teambuilding" like that. I feel quite built upon, thankyewverymuch. Oh, and I brought 2 drinks with me as I was sure (and that conviction was borne out) that the only drinks supplied would be sodas with HFCS in them. So add another $2.50 to the cost.
Stopped and got my veg co-op on the way home and then went home and made a sandwich and tried to lie down and rest. Feet hurting terribly. Got to sleep finally about 4 a.m. Sunday and was awake at 8:30 a.m. Sunday was awful - I had to try and get done all the things that I normally do Saturday, as well as cleaning up the beanpots and Sunday's chores. Not again. $57.90. I could have gone out and had bloody lobster and champagne for that.
Well, try this - stayed up late prepping the baked beans; cost of beans and salt pork and other ingredients $13.09, plus disposable chafing dish $12.88. Then put them up for the night, tried to sleep and the house was overheated as the result of having the oven on, slept very poorly; up at 7:30 a.m., walked dog, etc., got box to pack the pans in for transport; bought 5 packages of hamburger buns and 5 packages of hotdog buns $17.70. At 9:30 a.m. put the beans in to reheat, at 10:45 a.m. got them out and packed them in box with newspapers to cushion and insulate; cost of aluminum pans and covers $5.98; showered, dressed, carried stuff out to car, drove to Piedmont Park toll .50 cents, gas undetermined; schlepped beans, dog, buns, water and chafing dish set to site; was subjected to loud music, too much heat, approximately 20 percent of those who said they would bring food had not showed by the time I escaped; after about 1 hour 45 minutes, I nibbled on a rib and ate a bit of my beans (side dishes and dessert being among the dishes of the missing "team" members), Charlie was getting more and more skittish due to noise and my headache was escalating, so I skulked off before the party games could begin as I hate, despise and detest such activities with a passion. Parking $4.75, plus another .50 cent toll. Grand total for 2 hours of relative misery and misfittery - 6 hours of work related to preparing food and $55.40 cents in direct costs for buying and preparing and transporting the food and myself to the park. Gas costs not included. I can't afford any more "fun" or "teambuilding" like that. I feel quite built upon, thankyewverymuch. Oh, and I brought 2 drinks with me as I was sure (and that conviction was borne out) that the only drinks supplied would be sodas with HFCS in them. So add another $2.50 to the cost.
Stopped and got my veg co-op on the way home and then went home and made a sandwich and tried to lie down and rest. Feet hurting terribly. Got to sleep finally about 4 a.m. Sunday and was awake at 8:30 a.m. Sunday was awful - I had to try and get done all the things that I normally do Saturday, as well as cleaning up the beanpots and Sunday's chores. Not again. $57.90. I could have gone out and had bloody lobster and champagne for that.
New Camera
Yes, the camera arrived, but not without some drama. When I got home Friday, I checked the mailbox and nada. Nothing at all, no bills, no delivery slip, nothing. Got into the house and checked and lo and behold, the USPS site said that a delivery attempt had been made and a notice left. There WAS NO NOTICE.
The last time I had difficulties with delivery on an insured parcel, the parcel arrived plundered. A set of expensive scissors was neatly removed from the ornamental fob and tip guard and a set of stitch markers was missing.
Needless to say, I was not having that with this and on Saturday morning, in between getting ready for the department "retreat" (more on that idiocy later), I ran by the post office with the printout that had the tracking number on it. When I rang at the call window, I was delighted to see my former carrier (the one who let Charlie kiss her) answer at the window. She took the number and disappeared into the bowels of the PO and emerged with my package about 10 minutes later. The box appeared to have gotten wet and had some "damage" to the sealing tape, so I opened it promptly and discovered that a> no water had reached the inside and b> the attempt to open the box had been unsuccessful. Perusing the camera and the manual though, Ms. P has determined that there WILL be a learning curve.
The last time I had difficulties with delivery on an insured parcel, the parcel arrived plundered. A set of expensive scissors was neatly removed from the ornamental fob and tip guard and a set of stitch markers was missing.
Needless to say, I was not having that with this and on Saturday morning, in between getting ready for the department "retreat" (more on that idiocy later), I ran by the post office with the printout that had the tracking number on it. When I rang at the call window, I was delighted to see my former carrier (the one who let Charlie kiss her) answer at the window. She took the number and disappeared into the bowels of the PO and emerged with my package about 10 minutes later. The box appeared to have gotten wet and had some "damage" to the sealing tape, so I opened it promptly and discovered that a> no water had reached the inside and b> the attempt to open the box had been unsuccessful. Perusing the camera and the manual though, Ms. P has determined that there WILL be a learning curve.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Wow!
Ms. Packratty came into her office this morning to find a large box waiting in her cube. Upon opening, she discovered an utterly yummy Namaste Knitting bag, one of their newest, in a deep plum.
See picture.
Yum Yum Yum.
Thanks, Mom!
(Yes, that is a case of San Pelligrino water the bag is sitting on. Ms. P is always fighting the food issue and she likes fizzy, hence, fizzy without calories.).
And she is deeply hopeful that the new camera will be here tonight, as the USPS website reported that it reached my local PO at 9 a.m. this morning. OTOH, if Atlanta emulates Chicago, said camera may be in limbo until sometime next week. The clever little camera bag I bought on eBay arrived in 3 days:
It's blue and Ms. P is very pleased with it.Almost quitting time at the zoo and time to go home and ruin my evening cooking for the departmental "luau" that is being staged Saturday to improve team spirit. Yes, paying for and cooking food for people whom I only know from work and would not socialize with except that we work for the same company is clearly the way to waste half or more of my precious weekend.
And doing it in August is a public park in the center of the city is just another way to insure that Ms. P will be miserable. We do not fare well in the heat and we sunburn in minutes, so this is bound to be a trip to one of the circles of Hades. On top of the food, Ms. P also had to go purchase a disposable chafing dish. Clearly looking for a thrift store chafing dish, plate will be just fine, should be on the Packratty radar, since the disposable ones are not cheap and they are ... disposable.
Sigh.
2000 hours, time to go.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Oh Hellish Day
So the alarm didn't go off, but the dog did. Enter mop.
So we dropped the breakfast eggs on the floor. Enter broom, dustpan; mop redux.
A trip in the parking lot netted one whacked arm, one scuffed knee. Exit trousers, worn once, now out at knee and unrepairable for workwear.
A wreck on Georgia 400. Enter Ms. Packratty 38 minutes late to work. With a cellphone whose battery was on Low.
So "lunch", which was abbreviated also took her to the Target, for a charger for the office (40% cheaper than buying a spare from the cell phone store) and some Alice bands for the niece from the Target $1 racks. Ms. Packratty loves the $1 racks as a place to find goodies for the kiddos.
S0 the day sort of has to get better and at least since 3 p.m., it has. The jury is still out.
Ms. Packratty received her camera bag Wednesday evening, but when she checked the shipping data on the USPS site, it seems the camera, which had shipping scheduled on the 15th WAS ONLY PICKED UP BY USPS ON WEDNESDAY. Gee - does the USPS possibly think this might be why they are continuing to lose money by the long tonne? I mean I read somewhere that for a while, eBay was putting something like 1 million new parcels into the system, many sent Priority Mail and they couldn't make enough to break even with that. With this level of service, they seem to be committing seppukku by idiocy and inefficiency. Like the moronic clerk at the office near my workplace who, while Ms. Packratty was filling out a claim for sewing scissors pilfered from a package sent by her Maternal Parental Unit, called someone in Washington to make sure that it was legal to mail scissors, since they were sharp and might be considered a weapon. I think her brother must have been the TSA goon who was forcing the octogenarian lady in the wheelchair to try to totter, caneless, through a metal detector. Clueless, moronic, totally lacking in common sense.
In another venue, Ms. Packratty is trying to enter into a civilised debate over the health care plans that are being proposed left, right and sideways. One person said that the Obama plan does not call for covering the medical costs of illegal aliens, yet if the issue of illegals using the ERs as primary care and not paying for it is not resolved, the issue of "affordable healthcare" will not be resolved.
And actually, it turns out that if you subtract the illegals and people who are temporarily without insurance - i.e. between jobs - the number of career uninsured is significantly lower. Of course, Mr. Obama does want to have an amnesty for illegals, so once they've been amnestied, they won't be illegals, so technically, I suppose his statement saying the plan would not cover illegals is true.
So it sounds to me that what we need to do is revive our county health departments and the Public Health Service and public clinics with free and cheap basic medical care and screening. And have Urgent Care centers to divert earaches from ERs and then figure out some way to make "bridge" insurance affordable when people lose a job, change employers, graduate college and are jobhunting, etc.
And I say this as someone who did go through a prolonged period of "temping" and contract work and had to buy major medical with a high deductible and pay most of the costs of my routine care. And guess what? Although I didn't have a lot to spare, I could manage and my doctor and dentist both allowed me a lower charge AND time to pay.
The disabled and elderly have Medicare and Medicaid and those programs do work.
Another issue is that regardless of coverage, some people will not get care. I had a co-worker who had insurance, yet is now on disability and Medicare and hoping for a kidney transplant. Why, you ask? Why he had uncontrolled high blood pressure and the night he was taken to the ER near death, he had not seen a doctor in more than 6 years. Yet he HAD insurance. He doesn't now - he's one of the unfortunates that my tax dollars are paying for.
It's a complicated issue - but throwing the baby out with the bathwater isn't the solution.
So we dropped the breakfast eggs on the floor. Enter broom, dustpan; mop redux.
A trip in the parking lot netted one whacked arm, one scuffed knee. Exit trousers, worn once, now out at knee and unrepairable for workwear.
A wreck on Georgia 400. Enter Ms. Packratty 38 minutes late to work. With a cellphone whose battery was on Low.
So "lunch", which was abbreviated also took her to the Target, for a charger for the office (40% cheaper than buying a spare from the cell phone store) and some Alice bands for the niece from the Target $1 racks. Ms. Packratty loves the $1 racks as a place to find goodies for the kiddos.
S0 the day sort of has to get better and at least since 3 p.m., it has. The jury is still out.
Ms. Packratty received her camera bag Wednesday evening, but when she checked the shipping data on the USPS site, it seems the camera, which had shipping scheduled on the 15th WAS ONLY PICKED UP BY USPS ON WEDNESDAY. Gee - does the USPS possibly think this might be why they are continuing to lose money by the long tonne? I mean I read somewhere that for a while, eBay was putting something like 1 million new parcels into the system, many sent Priority Mail and they couldn't make enough to break even with that. With this level of service, they seem to be committing seppukku by idiocy and inefficiency. Like the moronic clerk at the office near my workplace who, while Ms. Packratty was filling out a claim for sewing scissors pilfered from a package sent by her Maternal Parental Unit, called someone in Washington to make sure that it was legal to mail scissors, since they were sharp and might be considered a weapon. I think her brother must have been the TSA goon who was forcing the octogenarian lady in the wheelchair to try to totter, caneless, through a metal detector. Clueless, moronic, totally lacking in common sense.
In another venue, Ms. Packratty is trying to enter into a civilised debate over the health care plans that are being proposed left, right and sideways. One person said that the Obama plan does not call for covering the medical costs of illegal aliens, yet if the issue of illegals using the ERs as primary care and not paying for it is not resolved, the issue of "affordable healthcare" will not be resolved.
And actually, it turns out that if you subtract the illegals and people who are temporarily without insurance - i.e. between jobs - the number of career uninsured is significantly lower. Of course, Mr. Obama does want to have an amnesty for illegals, so once they've been amnestied, they won't be illegals, so technically, I suppose his statement saying the plan would not cover illegals is true.
So it sounds to me that what we need to do is revive our county health departments and the Public Health Service and public clinics with free and cheap basic medical care and screening. And have Urgent Care centers to divert earaches from ERs and then figure out some way to make "bridge" insurance affordable when people lose a job, change employers, graduate college and are jobhunting, etc.
And I say this as someone who did go through a prolonged period of "temping" and contract work and had to buy major medical with a high deductible and pay most of the costs of my routine care. And guess what? Although I didn't have a lot to spare, I could manage and my doctor and dentist both allowed me a lower charge AND time to pay.
The disabled and elderly have Medicare and Medicaid and those programs do work.
Another issue is that regardless of coverage, some people will not get care. I had a co-worker who had insurance, yet is now on disability and Medicare and hoping for a kidney transplant. Why, you ask? Why he had uncontrolled high blood pressure and the night he was taken to the ER near death, he had not seen a doctor in more than 6 years. Yet he HAD insurance. He doesn't now - he's one of the unfortunates that my tax dollars are paying for.
It's a complicated issue - but throwing the baby out with the bathwater isn't the solution.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Victory
Ms. Packratty's little digital camera broke a couple of months ago and she has sorely missed it. Despite getting T-Mobile to give her a new phone (when it's been 3 years since your last new phone and you are out of contract and musing about other companies, it is *amazing* how generous the fellows at the cell phone store can be) which included a camera, Ms. Packratty really wanted a dedicated camera AND something a bit more like a real film camera (part of her sort of misses her reporting days when the Nikon FM went *everywhere* with her.
After reading and looking and admitting her long term bias for Nikons and sternly assessing the available cash situation, Ms. P started watching Nikon Coolpix 5700 cameras on eBay and today she scarfed one up for less than $75. Even if it needs a cleaning and servicing, Ms. P is elated to have snagged a deal for about a quarter of the fixed price. Yes, it's a model that's a couple of years + old. Fine. Ms. P does not care about being on the bleeding edge of technology. The iconography should be the same as her existing dead Coolpix, which should save on the learning curve and she admits, freely, that she's a Nikon user by preference.
And instead of dumping the poor camera in her capacious handbag (which may have been a factor in the demise of the previous camera) Ms. P immediately went and bid on a small camera bag.
In other notes, Ms. P is more than 25% of the way through paying for the painting of her father and niece on the beach that she commissioned - should be close to halfway paid for by the end of the year. That and having the car paid for and closing down the sole credit line, well, let's just say, with any luck at all, perhaps Ms. Packratty will have paid off all debt other than house debt in the next year - without resorting to some miserable financial strictures. She recently increased her 401K contributions and started putting $10 per paycheck into the employee stock purchase program and plans to resume automatically funding her Ameritrade account once the hot season and the humongous electrical bills are past.
The wisdom of purchasing the rollaround portable a/c unit for the bedroom was proven out in the current bill. The cost of cooling per day dropped - and last month before the portable was set up, the bedroom upstairs seldom dropped below 82 degrees. Now it is staying right around 78 even early in the evening and the main a/c system is not running around the clock. With the burden of the upstairs removed, it is cycling off regularly in the evenings and overnight and is able to cool the rest of the house down after the heat of the day passes. The day it was 98 outside in the late afternoon, the house was at 82 when Ms. P returned home, but the minute the sun set, the temperature moved back down toward 78 quite promptly. The fan still needs replacing and Ms. P is quite torn between replacing the fan motor for $300-500 or saving up for the whole thing. If she can find a contractor who will apply part of the fan cost toward a new system IF it does not resolve the slow cooling function, she may go ahead and repair it. Otherwise,l the wisdom of putting $400 into a 28 year old furnace escapes her (even if said furnace has been run about half the time a furnace belonging to a more cold-sensitive person would have).
And now it's time to drive home ...
After reading and looking and admitting her long term bias for Nikons and sternly assessing the available cash situation, Ms. P started watching Nikon Coolpix 5700 cameras on eBay and today she scarfed one up for less than $75. Even if it needs a cleaning and servicing, Ms. P is elated to have snagged a deal for about a quarter of the fixed price. Yes, it's a model that's a couple of years + old. Fine. Ms. P does not care about being on the bleeding edge of technology. The iconography should be the same as her existing dead Coolpix, which should save on the learning curve and she admits, freely, that she's a Nikon user by preference.
And instead of dumping the poor camera in her capacious handbag (which may have been a factor in the demise of the previous camera) Ms. P immediately went and bid on a small camera bag.
In other notes, Ms. P is more than 25% of the way through paying for the painting of her father and niece on the beach that she commissioned - should be close to halfway paid for by the end of the year. That and having the car paid for and closing down the sole credit line, well, let's just say, with any luck at all, perhaps Ms. Packratty will have paid off all debt other than house debt in the next year - without resorting to some miserable financial strictures. She recently increased her 401K contributions and started putting $10 per paycheck into the employee stock purchase program and plans to resume automatically funding her Ameritrade account once the hot season and the humongous electrical bills are past.
The wisdom of purchasing the rollaround portable a/c unit for the bedroom was proven out in the current bill. The cost of cooling per day dropped - and last month before the portable was set up, the bedroom upstairs seldom dropped below 82 degrees. Now it is staying right around 78 even early in the evening and the main a/c system is not running around the clock. With the burden of the upstairs removed, it is cycling off regularly in the evenings and overnight and is able to cool the rest of the house down after the heat of the day passes. The day it was 98 outside in the late afternoon, the house was at 82 when Ms. P returned home, but the minute the sun set, the temperature moved back down toward 78 quite promptly. The fan still needs replacing and Ms. P is quite torn between replacing the fan motor for $300-500 or saving up for the whole thing. If she can find a contractor who will apply part of the fan cost toward a new system IF it does not resolve the slow cooling function, she may go ahead and repair it. Otherwise,l the wisdom of putting $400 into a 28 year old furnace escapes her (even if said furnace has been run about half the time a furnace belonging to a more cold-sensitive person would have).
And now it's time to drive home ...
Thursday, August 13, 2009
On a Householding topic
Why hasn't anyone ever designed an extra freezer that would be roughly the size and shape of a standard top of the fridge freezer and designed to sit on top of the fridge? For those who don't need an enormous extra freezer and who lack the square footage in the kitchen ....
Another Home Grown Terrorist Islamist Guilty - But why aren't we trying them for treason?
Ehsanul Islam Sadequee, 23, faces 60 years in prison after a federal jury in Atlanta convicted him Wednesday of four counts of aiding terrorists.
My heart bleeds. Not. Well, actually, the notion that we are going to have to pay for his room and board for 60 years irks me.
He intended treason again the country he was born and raised in. Hang the little bastard and deport his family. I they raised one viper in our bosom, they're likely to continue.
And his sister says he's misunderstood. This jerk and his buddy allegedly got radicalized at a local sinkhole of Mohammedanism - AL FAROOQ MASJID - too bad it is still standing ... if it were up to me, we'd have let the Atlanta Fire Department use it for practice.
My heart bleeds. Not. Well, actually, the notion that we are going to have to pay for his room and board for 60 years irks me.
He intended treason again the country he was born and raised in. Hang the little bastard and deport his family. I they raised one viper in our bosom, they're likely to continue.
And his sister says he's misunderstood. This jerk and his buddy allegedly got radicalized at a local sinkhole of Mohammedanism - AL FAROOQ MASJID - too bad it is still standing ... if it were up to me, we'd have let the Atlanta Fire Department use it for practice.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Tired of the Trendy "Frugalistas"
As someone who has been - out of necessity - practicing frugality for many years, Ms. Packratty is somewhat grumpy about the nouveau frugal. 'Scuse me - too many of these folks are being frugal now because over the last decade, while they were earning twice what I was, they were spending three times as much. And we're supposed to salute them for their bravery in going without sushi and designer vodka?
Well. As a long time frugal, whose wardrobe is mostly consignment, eBay and - when purchased retail - from stores like Marshall's, Ms. Packratty has a somewhat jaundiced view of the newly frugal. She strongly suspects that most of them will return to their wastrel ways at the first uptick in the economy. There are others who despite crowing about their frugal or green ways just amaze her by their inconsistency. Like recycling bathwater, but having a child who can walk and talk still using paper diapers?
Serious long term frugality does not need to be some pleasureless deathmarch, nor is it endless deprivation - in fact, Ms. P believes that's one of the fastest ways to fall off the wagon. Ms. P's version includes using a warehouse club like Sam's or Costco for things such as toilet paper. No, she does not buy the cheap stuff, she buys the good stuff. But she buys it in 4-6 month quantities for about the same price as buying the cheap stuff at the supermarket. This benefits the frugal in 2 ways - for one, you get the higher quality for the cheap price AND you don't have to think about TP or paper towels or X or Y or Z for months at a time. Even in a condo, Ms. P. manages to stash months worth of things that are non-perishable or household. Bargains come in the oddest places, too.
Does she bake her own bread? No - it's too much time out of a busy week and heats the house up too much in the summer. Sure there are times in the winter when a batch of no-knead bread or a hearty beef stew is the pip. But not in August.
The things that *aren't* frugal though - driving around in circles to use special coupons; buying brands we don't really like (hint - we won't use them if we don't like them), buying cheaply made clothing or shoes, those are the things to watch for.
Beyond that, Ms. Packratty recommends the public library for amusement. If you're new to watching your pennies, movie theatres and bookstores are not your friend. The library, unless your tastes are quite arcane and once you get over the compulsion to be up to the minute, can answer about 95% of your reading and viewing.
Oh, and the way to "save money over cable" is not to sign up for a dish or Netflix or some other scheme, but to break your addiction to the television - an addiction that pushes more things at you left, right and sideways.
Well. As a long time frugal, whose wardrobe is mostly consignment, eBay and - when purchased retail - from stores like Marshall's, Ms. Packratty has a somewhat jaundiced view of the newly frugal. She strongly suspects that most of them will return to their wastrel ways at the first uptick in the economy. There are others who despite crowing about their frugal or green ways just amaze her by their inconsistency. Like recycling bathwater, but having a child who can walk and talk still using paper diapers?
Serious long term frugality does not need to be some pleasureless deathmarch, nor is it endless deprivation - in fact, Ms. P believes that's one of the fastest ways to fall off the wagon. Ms. P's version includes using a warehouse club like Sam's or Costco for things such as toilet paper. No, she does not buy the cheap stuff, she buys the good stuff. But she buys it in 4-6 month quantities for about the same price as buying the cheap stuff at the supermarket. This benefits the frugal in 2 ways - for one, you get the higher quality for the cheap price AND you don't have to think about TP or paper towels or X or Y or Z for months at a time. Even in a condo, Ms. P. manages to stash months worth of things that are non-perishable or household. Bargains come in the oddest places, too.
Does she bake her own bread? No - it's too much time out of a busy week and heats the house up too much in the summer. Sure there are times in the winter when a batch of no-knead bread or a hearty beef stew is the pip. But not in August.
The things that *aren't* frugal though - driving around in circles to use special coupons; buying brands we don't really like (hint - we won't use them if we don't like them), buying cheaply made clothing or shoes, those are the things to watch for.
Beyond that, Ms. Packratty recommends the public library for amusement. If you're new to watching your pennies, movie theatres and bookstores are not your friend. The library, unless your tastes are quite arcane and once you get over the compulsion to be up to the minute, can answer about 95% of your reading and viewing.
Oh, and the way to "save money over cable" is not to sign up for a dish or Netflix or some other scheme, but to break your addiction to the television - an addiction that pushes more things at you left, right and sideways.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Beastly Hot
The heat continues to hover over us like a brass bowl. It's pleasant only very late at night or first thing in the morning, so Ms. Packratty has taken to dunking herself in the condo pool sometime between 9 p.m. and bedtime. It has a very nice cooling effect - temporary, but pleasant.
This weekend was an on-call weekend at work, so there wasn't much gadding around. Ms. P is still considering what to do about the ceiling fan in her bedroom - 10 days ago, she woke in the small hours, flipped on the light and discovered that the ceiling fan - oscillating wildly - was dangling over the bed, hanging by a single screw. Needless to say, it came down in a matter of minutes and certainly woke Ms. P right up. Now the decision is - new fan or just a light? The jury is still out.
Ms. P has decided to continue in the vegetable co-op program for the next quarter. Although there are selections that really don't please her from time to time, getting a sack of assorted fruits and vegetables every week has pushed the envelope a bit and prompted the consumption of more vegetables. The only problem now is that we have a lovely whack of yellow squash and it's too warm to want to fire up the oven for squash casserole. Ms. P was thinking that she would put the casserole together tonight, then pop it in the oven at 7 a.m. when she walks Charlie and then put it back in the fridge before work and just reheat in the nuker as needed. This past week's bag included some lovely blueberries and dumping a handful of these into a half a carton of vanilla yogurt was a tasty treat. The dead ripe cantaloupe - half of it - became breakfast this morning along with a banana - really a nice way to start a very warm Monday.
Packrattery progress has included the disposal of more junk and more detrashing. Our next project is to get some plastic and mothballs and roll up the 2 orientals and get them stuffed in the attic at Marleen's where she said they were welcome to stay until the floors were done. If the weather is dry next weekend, this is a substantially likely project. Then in October, I will be house sitting and I plan to take a couple of days off - or even half days which might work better - and varnish the stairs when I can sleep elsewhere and not have to use the stairs.
I am still trying to master my new phone and learn to take pictures with it, as the baby digital is dead and I am lurking on ebay trying to find a replacement at my price. Pictures to come.
This weekend was an on-call weekend at work, so there wasn't much gadding around. Ms. P is still considering what to do about the ceiling fan in her bedroom - 10 days ago, she woke in the small hours, flipped on the light and discovered that the ceiling fan - oscillating wildly - was dangling over the bed, hanging by a single screw. Needless to say, it came down in a matter of minutes and certainly woke Ms. P right up. Now the decision is - new fan or just a light? The jury is still out.
Ms. P has decided to continue in the vegetable co-op program for the next quarter. Although there are selections that really don't please her from time to time, getting a sack of assorted fruits and vegetables every week has pushed the envelope a bit and prompted the consumption of more vegetables. The only problem now is that we have a lovely whack of yellow squash and it's too warm to want to fire up the oven for squash casserole. Ms. P was thinking that she would put the casserole together tonight, then pop it in the oven at 7 a.m. when she walks Charlie and then put it back in the fridge before work and just reheat in the nuker as needed. This past week's bag included some lovely blueberries and dumping a handful of these into a half a carton of vanilla yogurt was a tasty treat. The dead ripe cantaloupe - half of it - became breakfast this morning along with a banana - really a nice way to start a very warm Monday.
Packrattery progress has included the disposal of more junk and more detrashing. Our next project is to get some plastic and mothballs and roll up the 2 orientals and get them stuffed in the attic at Marleen's where she said they were welcome to stay until the floors were done. If the weather is dry next weekend, this is a substantially likely project. Then in October, I will be house sitting and I plan to take a couple of days off - or even half days which might work better - and varnish the stairs when I can sleep elsewhere and not have to use the stairs.
I am still trying to master my new phone and learn to take pictures with it, as the baby digital is dead and I am lurking on ebay trying to find a replacement at my price. Pictures to come.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Summertime Insomnia
It's hot here. Even inside, you can almost feel the heat outside pressing in like a large hairy animal. Ms. Packratty is not terribly fond of this type of heat, which seems to abate only in the late evenings and early morning hours after it rains and it is not raining nearly enough to suit.
One of the side effects is that Ms. Packratty is having a terrible bout of insomnia. The lying in bed almost asleep type (where every noise starts you wide awake) until about 3-4 a.m., when suddenly she is deeply asleep - only to have the verdammt alarm clock start chirping away. Ms. Packratty is reminded of a West Point cadet ditty sung on occasion by her PPU which goes "someday I'm going to murder the bugler". In Ms. Packratty's case, it will be the alarm clock which is slaughtered, but even so, it's self-punishment as she will then have to go out and buy a new one.
The current bout is 5 nights old - last night the sleep hourage made it to a little more then 4 hours with the help of some melatonin and a cup of Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime. No dinner seems to help a bit as then there is less of an issue with indigestion causing wakefulness. All in all, not a pleasant thing. Ms. Packratty has exactly one sleeping pill left from her last prescription and is loathe to use it except in an utter emergency.
In other news, when it is hot outside and since the Packratty budget does not extend to lowering the temperature of Chez Packrat below about 78 degrees, it's time to sit still and read a lot. The current and/or recent reading menu has included:
By heresies distressed - David Weber. SciFi and while not as engrossing as the Honorverse, still a good read.
Dancing to the precipice : the life of Lucie de la Tour du Pin - Caroline Moorehead. A bio of a woman whose life intersects with the French Revolution.
We band of angels : the untold story of American nurses trapped on Bataan by the Japanese - Elizabeth Norman A look at a group of servicewomen who have largely been forgotten, but whose courage and endurance were beyond question.
Four seasons in Rome : on twins, insomnia, and the biggest funeral in the history of the world - Anthony Doerr I always like to read about Italy and Rome, but this account of a year in Rome underwritten by a foundation for artists of various sorts, recounts more a year that seems subsumed by coping with twin children in a foreign land. I can't recommend it as much as I can others, such as "Extra Virgin".
I've also read several books recently about the plight of women in the Mohammedan world and find myself depressed by the fact that almost none of them reject Mohammedanism as the root cause of their oppression, preferring instead to claim (despite the prevalence of female oppression in conjunction with a Mohammedan majority/government) that somehow, Mohammedanism is not to blame for the excesses committed by its adherents. Yeah. Right.
There has been little reading and only a little bookbinding going. Ms. P is varnishing two pieces of oak plank to serve as pressing boards to supplement the little finishing press that she made with the help of Marleen's Joe last month. Pictures to come.
One of the side effects is that Ms. Packratty is having a terrible bout of insomnia. The lying in bed almost asleep type (where every noise starts you wide awake) until about 3-4 a.m., when suddenly she is deeply asleep - only to have the verdammt alarm clock start chirping away. Ms. Packratty is reminded of a West Point cadet ditty sung on occasion by her PPU which goes "someday I'm going to murder the bugler". In Ms. Packratty's case, it will be the alarm clock which is slaughtered, but even so, it's self-punishment as she will then have to go out and buy a new one.
The current bout is 5 nights old - last night the sleep hourage made it to a little more then 4 hours with the help of some melatonin and a cup of Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime. No dinner seems to help a bit as then there is less of an issue with indigestion causing wakefulness. All in all, not a pleasant thing. Ms. Packratty has exactly one sleeping pill left from her last prescription and is loathe to use it except in an utter emergency.
In other news, when it is hot outside and since the Packratty budget does not extend to lowering the temperature of Chez Packrat below about 78 degrees, it's time to sit still and read a lot. The current and/or recent reading menu has included:
By heresies distressed - David Weber. SciFi and while not as engrossing as the Honorverse, still a good read.
Dancing to the precipice : the life of Lucie de la Tour du Pin - Caroline Moorehead. A bio of a woman whose life intersects with the French Revolution.
We band of angels : the untold story of American nurses trapped on Bataan by the Japanese - Elizabeth Norman A look at a group of servicewomen who have largely been forgotten, but whose courage and endurance were beyond question.
Four seasons in Rome : on twins, insomnia, and the biggest funeral in the history of the world - Anthony Doerr I always like to read about Italy and Rome, but this account of a year in Rome underwritten by a foundation for artists of various sorts, recounts more a year that seems subsumed by coping with twin children in a foreign land. I can't recommend it as much as I can others, such as "Extra Virgin".
I've also read several books recently about the plight of women in the Mohammedan world and find myself depressed by the fact that almost none of them reject Mohammedanism as the root cause of their oppression, preferring instead to claim (despite the prevalence of female oppression in conjunction with a Mohammedan majority/government) that somehow, Mohammedanism is not to blame for the excesses committed by its adherents. Yeah. Right.
There has been little reading and only a little bookbinding going. Ms. P is varnishing two pieces of oak plank to serve as pressing boards to supplement the little finishing press that she made with the help of Marleen's Joe last month. Pictures to come.
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Friday, July 10, 2009
Bookbinding - Belated Update
I went to Manhattan on June 19th to take a class in repairing clothbound books at the Center for Book Arts . I was fortunate enough to secure a room at a Greenwich Village guest house that was safe, clean and relatively convenient as well as being extraordinarily affordable. Although the bathroom was across the hall, I was the only guest in the three rooms that would be using it, so it was entirely unobjectionable. The room was at the back of the house, so between that and the air conditioner's hum, it was as quiet as my home in Atlanta.
I left my house early on the 19th, dropping Charlie off at Marleen's house for boarding. As always, Mr. Wiggles was very happy to see all of his terrier chums and barely noticed my departure. I MARTAed to the airport and queued up to get a boarding pass. Other than the semantically questionable policy of calling the first checked bag "excess baggage" and levying a $15 fee, I find I much prefer AirTran. Needless to say, since I was schlepping my bookbinding kit to NY, I could not do the carryon thing - bookbinders use a multitude of sharp and pointy things.
The problem with charging for checked bags is this - people will do insane things to avoid a $15 charge including dragging on bags that are well above a reasonable size for stowage. And the airlines don't screen hard enough for the size or the number of bags. On both legs, I observed people with a carryon bag and 2 or more other carried items and the rule is supposed to be one carryon plus a purse or briefcase or similar.
However, I did manage to get to the airport early enough to get myself on an earlier flight, thereby buying myself an arrival about an hour and 15 minutes earlier. Once on the ground at LaGuardia, I got my MetroPass, caught the Q33 into Queens and then the F train into the city. I was pleasantly surprised at the relative cleanliness of the subway vis a vis my last extended use of it. It does not smell like a portapotty in the sun, although grub and grime are still a constant. Of course, given how grubby MARTA stations have gotten under a much smaller passenger load, it's no wonder the MTA can't keep up. I KIP-ped in public on the train, with a few people openly watching the yarn and the sock-in-progress. Enjoyed eavesdropping on various conversations. Yeah, I'm still slowly grinding away on the darned near laceweight silk/cashmere/merino socks for a certain uncle.
OK, so my first stop in the city was Orchard Bra & Corset - many years ago, they introduced me to underwires and proper bra fittings and I always try to go back there when i have a chance. It's down on the Lower East Side in a very tiny little store with stacked boxes to the ceiling, Orthodox proprietors with encyclopedic knowledge of their stock and an unerring ability to a.> size the girls and b.> determine which model bra will best suit one's dependents. Not only that, but the very highend bra she fitted me in was on half price. I was thrilled. Then on to Chinatown and Little Italy, where I was first swarmed by the touts for knockoff purses and then came to rest at DiPalo's where I successfully ordered the yeast I wanted. Hurrah.
Then it was off the the guesthouse to check in and get settled. Footsore and dragging the increasingly weighty suitcase, I made it to one of the greenest, leafiest bits of the Village and up the super-steep stairs of the brownstone and to my rooms, which, as mentioned, was spare, quiet and cool. I ripped into my suitcase, took a fast shower and changed into jeans and nipped down the street and around the corner to get some mineral water, which I then started chugging. I intended a short nap before meeting my goddaughter Pamela for dinner, but the phone rang with a call from Atlanta and I ended up with a 45 minute catnap.
Right on time, Pamela came in on the PATH train from New jersey. I met her at the Christopher Street station and we strolled a couple of blocks to Malatesta which had been recommended to me. We had a terrific Italian dinner, sitting out in the soft summer air and catching up. She seems to be coming back from the stress of her Dad's long illness and death. Food and wine and then a long walk around looking for a gelato place, only to discover finally that we had ignored it twice - it was across the street from where we were looking. Evening complete with a gay rights march. Back to the guest house and out like a light. Up early, but not early enough the next morning. Even without Charlie to walk and so forth, getting showered and dressed in a new place and then navigating the subways to Broadway and 27th was a time hog. No breakfast .... Hail Starbucks.
The class was astonishingly good. The instructor, Sophia Kramer, is a conservator at the Metropolitan and her knowledge is encyclopedic and perfectionist. I realized I had gotten some very bad habits at the Atlanta Printmakers Studio class where we had no lying or finishing presses to use. It furthered my desire to not do any other classes there until they bother to get at least minimal equipment. The fact that they are so poorly equipped, but charge almost as much per class as CBA is part of it, plus it was clear that the APS instructor was not getting even half of the tuition. And when you couple that with the physical condition of the APS facility, where the class nearly froze a couple of nights vs the space at CBA which has to be vastly more expensive in terms of rent ... One book press (rusty) and no finish or lying presses and no board cutter. Using a board cutter was such a pleasure after all of the hacking with razor knives trying to get squared corners.
Anyway, after class ended Saturday, I ran one more errand and then marched to the NYU area on the East Side and met Lynette Kanode Frey and her Sarah and Peter for dinner at a Japanese restaurant. Darling children. Lynette is herself, as always. And then back to the guesthouse in a taxi and waving goodbye in the rain.
Up on Sunday before 8 and showered and packed and headed back out. Dragging suitcase behind, I assessed the condition of my feet and chickened out and took a cab. Got to the center swiftly and circled the block to find the Antique Cafe where at 8:30 they opened the doors and I got breakfast. I was dehydrated and starting to feel icky, but chugalugged a whole bottle of San Pelli water and ate a very nice breakfast and then went on to the second day of class. The second day was equally as enlightening as the first, although I realized about 2 p.m. that I was not feeling well at all. Packed up at 4 and changed into travelling clothes and headed back to the airport - trip complete with suitcase handle breaking, but finally arrived at LaGuardia and then started the waiting. Not enough seats in departure area so I stood for an hour. Then sat and waited and waited through a rain delay.
Got in the air finally and made great time to Atlanta, but then I think my luggage caught a later flight. Then an endless wait for a northbound MARTA train, then a wait at Lindbergh to change to a Sandy Springs-bound train. During which I lost my Breeze card, which still had about 8 fares left, dammit. It was nearly 1 a.m. when I got in my car. Nine hours in transit of which only about 2 were spent actually taking off/flying/landing.
Got home, crawled in the house, drank another quart of water, said hello to the cat and collapsed. When morning came, it brought a nice fever, which took me to the doctor and led to prescriptions and an entire week of work lost to strep throat. I had planned the trip to use only 1 1/2 days of vacation - instead, with strep added, it gobbled 8. Grrr. Poor Mr. Wiggles ended up staying at Marleen's house until Thursday. He didn't seem to mind - was glad to see me as always, but I don't think he knew he'd been there 4 extra days.
However, the bookbinding class really was worth the time, effort and expense.
More on bookbinding later because 3 weeks + later, I am just now getting over the nagging cough left behind.
I left my house early on the 19th, dropping Charlie off at Marleen's house for boarding. As always, Mr. Wiggles was very happy to see all of his terrier chums and barely noticed my departure. I MARTAed to the airport and queued up to get a boarding pass. Other than the semantically questionable policy of calling the first checked bag "excess baggage" and levying a $15 fee, I find I much prefer AirTran. Needless to say, since I was schlepping my bookbinding kit to NY, I could not do the carryon thing - bookbinders use a multitude of sharp and pointy things.
The problem with charging for checked bags is this - people will do insane things to avoid a $15 charge including dragging on bags that are well above a reasonable size for stowage. And the airlines don't screen hard enough for the size or the number of bags. On both legs, I observed people with a carryon bag and 2 or more other carried items and the rule is supposed to be one carryon plus a purse or briefcase or similar.
However, I did manage to get to the airport early enough to get myself on an earlier flight, thereby buying myself an arrival about an hour and 15 minutes earlier. Once on the ground at LaGuardia, I got my MetroPass, caught the Q33 into Queens and then the F train into the city. I was pleasantly surprised at the relative cleanliness of the subway vis a vis my last extended use of it. It does not smell like a portapotty in the sun, although grub and grime are still a constant. Of course, given how grubby MARTA stations have gotten under a much smaller passenger load, it's no wonder the MTA can't keep up. I KIP-ped in public on the train, with a few people openly watching the yarn and the sock-in-progress. Enjoyed eavesdropping on various conversations. Yeah, I'm still slowly grinding away on the darned near laceweight silk/cashmere/merino socks for a certain uncle.
OK, so my first stop in the city was Orchard Bra & Corset - many years ago, they introduced me to underwires and proper bra fittings and I always try to go back there when i have a chance. It's down on the Lower East Side in a very tiny little store with stacked boxes to the ceiling, Orthodox proprietors with encyclopedic knowledge of their stock and an unerring ability to a.> size the girls and b.> determine which model bra will best suit one's dependents. Not only that, but the very highend bra she fitted me in was on half price. I was thrilled. Then on to Chinatown and Little Italy, where I was first swarmed by the touts for knockoff purses and then came to rest at DiPalo's where I successfully ordered the yeast I wanted. Hurrah.
Then it was off the the guesthouse to check in and get settled. Footsore and dragging the increasingly weighty suitcase, I made it to one of the greenest, leafiest bits of the Village and up the super-steep stairs of the brownstone and to my rooms, which, as mentioned, was spare, quiet and cool. I ripped into my suitcase, took a fast shower and changed into jeans and nipped down the street and around the corner to get some mineral water, which I then started chugging. I intended a short nap before meeting my goddaughter Pamela for dinner, but the phone rang with a call from Atlanta and I ended up with a 45 minute catnap.
Right on time, Pamela came in on the PATH train from New jersey. I met her at the Christopher Street station and we strolled a couple of blocks to Malatesta which had been recommended to me. We had a terrific Italian dinner, sitting out in the soft summer air and catching up. She seems to be coming back from the stress of her Dad's long illness and death. Food and wine and then a long walk around looking for a gelato place, only to discover finally that we had ignored it twice - it was across the street from where we were looking. Evening complete with a gay rights march. Back to the guest house and out like a light. Up early, but not early enough the next morning. Even without Charlie to walk and so forth, getting showered and dressed in a new place and then navigating the subways to Broadway and 27th was a time hog. No breakfast .... Hail Starbucks.
The class was astonishingly good. The instructor, Sophia Kramer, is a conservator at the Metropolitan and her knowledge is encyclopedic and perfectionist. I realized I had gotten some very bad habits at the Atlanta Printmakers Studio class where we had no lying or finishing presses to use. It furthered my desire to not do any other classes there until they bother to get at least minimal equipment. The fact that they are so poorly equipped, but charge almost as much per class as CBA is part of it, plus it was clear that the APS instructor was not getting even half of the tuition. And when you couple that with the physical condition of the APS facility, where the class nearly froze a couple of nights vs the space at CBA which has to be vastly more expensive in terms of rent ... One book press (rusty) and no finish or lying presses and no board cutter. Using a board cutter was such a pleasure after all of the hacking with razor knives trying to get squared corners.
Anyway, after class ended Saturday, I ran one more errand and then marched to the NYU area on the East Side and met Lynette Kanode Frey and her Sarah and Peter for dinner at a Japanese restaurant. Darling children. Lynette is herself, as always. And then back to the guesthouse in a taxi and waving goodbye in the rain.
Up on Sunday before 8 and showered and packed and headed back out. Dragging suitcase behind, I assessed the condition of my feet and chickened out and took a cab. Got to the center swiftly and circled the block to find the Antique Cafe where at 8:30 they opened the doors and I got breakfast. I was dehydrated and starting to feel icky, but chugalugged a whole bottle of San Pelli water and ate a very nice breakfast and then went on to the second day of class. The second day was equally as enlightening as the first, although I realized about 2 p.m. that I was not feeling well at all. Packed up at 4 and changed into travelling clothes and headed back to the airport - trip complete with suitcase handle breaking, but finally arrived at LaGuardia and then started the waiting. Not enough seats in departure area so I stood for an hour. Then sat and waited and waited through a rain delay.
Got in the air finally and made great time to Atlanta, but then I think my luggage caught a later flight. Then an endless wait for a northbound MARTA train, then a wait at Lindbergh to change to a Sandy Springs-bound train. During which I lost my Breeze card, which still had about 8 fares left, dammit. It was nearly 1 a.m. when I got in my car. Nine hours in transit of which only about 2 were spent actually taking off/flying/landing.
Got home, crawled in the house, drank another quart of water, said hello to the cat and collapsed. When morning came, it brought a nice fever, which took me to the doctor and led to prescriptions and an entire week of work lost to strep throat. I had planned the trip to use only 1 1/2 days of vacation - instead, with strep added, it gobbled 8. Grrr. Poor Mr. Wiggles ended up staying at Marleen's house until Thursday. He didn't seem to mind - was glad to see me as always, but I don't think he knew he'd been there 4 extra days.
However, the bookbinding class really was worth the time, effort and expense.
More on bookbinding later because 3 weeks + later, I am just now getting over the nagging cough left behind.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Treason Most Vile
Article III, Section 3.
Treason against the United States, shall consist only in levying war against them, or in adhering to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort. No person shall be convicted of treason unless on the testimony of two witnesses to the same overt act, or on confession in open court.
A part of the Constitution that we need to start using - especially against the Mohammedan fifth-column - cases such as Hasan Akbar http://www.cnn.com/2003/WORLD/meast/03/22/sprj.irq.101.attack/index.html ; Abdulhakim Muhammad - the Arkansas shooter who attacked soldiers just because they were soldiers and Syed Haris Ahmed, 24-year-old former Georgia Tech student, convicted Tuesday of conspiring to provide material support to terrorists. During his trial last week, prosecutors introduced into evidence e-mails and Internet chats during which Ahmed said he wanted to engage in violent jihad.
These people turned their back on our culture and embraced the degenerate, violent and oppressive "ideals" of Mohammedanism. The first two surely do deserve to die and it is a shame that Akbar was prosecuted only for murder and equally shameful that he will be given a painless death by lethal injection. Akbar and Muhammed should both be hanged and the hanging should be televised nationally during primetime with a clear warning to other Mohammedans that if they wage violence against our country based on their degenerate religion that we will hang them too.
In the case of Ahmed - send the little bastard to prison and deport his entire family. And WHY should we deport his family? This is why -
Treason against the United States, shall consist only in levying war against them, or in adhering to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort. No person shall be convicted of treason unless on the testimony of two witnesses to the same overt act, or on confession in open court.
A part of the Constitution that we need to start using - especially against the Mohammedan fifth-column - cases such as Hasan Akbar http://www.cnn.com/2003/WORLD/meast/03/22/sprj.irq.101.attack/index.html ; Abdulhakim Muhammad - the Arkansas shooter who attacked soldiers just because they were soldiers and Syed Haris Ahmed, 24-year-old former Georgia Tech student, convicted Tuesday of conspiring to provide material support to terrorists. During his trial last week, prosecutors introduced into evidence e-mails and Internet chats during which Ahmed said he wanted to engage in violent jihad.
These people turned their back on our culture and embraced the degenerate, violent and oppressive "ideals" of Mohammedanism. The first two surely do deserve to die and it is a shame that Akbar was prosecuted only for murder and equally shameful that he will be given a painless death by lethal injection. Akbar and Muhammed should both be hanged and the hanging should be televised nationally during primetime with a clear warning to other Mohammedans that if they wage violence against our country based on their degenerate religion that we will hang them too.
In the case of Ahmed - send the little bastard to prison and deport his entire family. And WHY should we deport his family? This is why -
His sister showed up in Islamofascistslavery garb in court. Why can't these people respect OUR culture?
“You think something and you’re guilty,” Syed Riaz Ahmed said, standing outside a federal courtroom shortly after hearing his son pronounced guilty. “He’s not guilty of any crimes in the eyes of Allah. He’s guilty of U.S. laws.”
Yes, he's guilty of violating US laws and if you don't understand, Mr. Syed, that that's more important here than your filthy religion, then you don't belong in this county.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Pitiful
Pathetic.
It’s the only word I can sum up to describe the deluded behavior of X who sat in Colorado, mostly unemployed while his mother died slowly an ocean and half a continent away. Apparently his pride was too overweening to allow him to go home, even to the point of not seeing his mother before she died. Hope that pride fits really well 10 years from now, X. Oh, and X? That “eulogy” you wrote for your mother’s memorial service? Well, kiddo, eulogies are supposed to talk about the dear departed, not about *you*. Although, looking at your behavior, your “eulogy” is perfectly in character. Delusional and totally self-centered.
What X doesn’t realize is that he’s probably lost his family along with his mother. There’s going to come a day, probably not too far down the road, when he is once again going to need help from his family and what they are going to remember is that he wasn’t there when things were bad. That he basically did a passive cut and run by not being a part of the family and putting himself and his wants ahead of his family. By sitting in Denver and binge drinking in the service of unpaid blogging while his mother died by inches. Yep, really things to be proud of. Meaningful.
X, there is not going to be any amnesty. You aren’t going to become an overnight success and “buy” your way into this country. Hopefully, you’ll be bright enough to leave before you get caught and deported and while there’s time to salvage something resembling a useful life out of the wreckage. If you keep going, you will shortly be a 35-year-old with bad teeth, living in some squalid rented room and yattering to yourself about how success and citizenship is right around the corner. Unfortunately, you’ve ended up a bit long in the tooth to be a boy wonder and you are fast slouching toward being just another loser with an unearned opinion of himself.
As for Y, who demanded a public apology from me for the private message in which I scolded X for his foolishness? You’ll die waiting. If for no other reason, than that your indignant message about being X’s emotional support proves that you are a barefaced liar, because you’d been insisting that you hadn’t been having much of any contact with him for months. Riddle me this, dearie – how do you emotionally support someone you aren’t in contact with?
It’s the only word I can sum up to describe the deluded behavior of X who sat in Colorado, mostly unemployed while his mother died slowly an ocean and half a continent away. Apparently his pride was too overweening to allow him to go home, even to the point of not seeing his mother before she died. Hope that pride fits really well 10 years from now, X. Oh, and X? That “eulogy” you wrote for your mother’s memorial service? Well, kiddo, eulogies are supposed to talk about the dear departed, not about *you*. Although, looking at your behavior, your “eulogy” is perfectly in character. Delusional and totally self-centered.
What X doesn’t realize is that he’s probably lost his family along with his mother. There’s going to come a day, probably not too far down the road, when he is once again going to need help from his family and what they are going to remember is that he wasn’t there when things were bad. That he basically did a passive cut and run by not being a part of the family and putting himself and his wants ahead of his family. By sitting in Denver and binge drinking in the service of unpaid blogging while his mother died by inches. Yep, really things to be proud of. Meaningful.
X, there is not going to be any amnesty. You aren’t going to become an overnight success and “buy” your way into this country. Hopefully, you’ll be bright enough to leave before you get caught and deported and while there’s time to salvage something resembling a useful life out of the wreckage. If you keep going, you will shortly be a 35-year-old with bad teeth, living in some squalid rented room and yattering to yourself about how success and citizenship is right around the corner. Unfortunately, you’ve ended up a bit long in the tooth to be a boy wonder and you are fast slouching toward being just another loser with an unearned opinion of himself.
As for Y, who demanded a public apology from me for the private message in which I scolded X for his foolishness? You’ll die waiting. If for no other reason, than that your indignant message about being X’s emotional support proves that you are a barefaced liar, because you’d been insisting that you hadn’t been having much of any contact with him for months. Riddle me this, dearie – how do you emotionally support someone you aren’t in contact with?
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
It's been a long year
It started with moving elderly relatives out of a house they had occupied for 35+ years. A summer and fall of chaos, chaos and more chaos, spending more weekends than not driving back and forth to South Carolina.
But it is done and while Ms. Packratty did her part, a certain sibling on the other end of the move did not. However, that is not Ms. Packratty's concern. Ms. Packratty did everything she committed to doing and more. If other people dropped the ball and the parties in the middle chose to overlook it, so be it.
There has not been much knitting. Mostly socks and other small projects and not much of that. Mainly been too busy, too tired, too frazzled to do much of anything.
Charlie is a good boy. We went to the beach again, but much of the week involved family, so it was NOT relaxing. We won't be doing that again unless we can have peace and quiet - I love my family, but when you work 50 weeks of the year under the pressure we do here, you need real decompression time and catering to fussy older relatives, cooking and cleaning and being criticized non-stop the whole while is NOT relaxing.
Christmas was pleasant and quiet and I had a lovely Christmas Eve with friends. I got to cook - veal marsala, mushroom risotto and asparagus, with Prosecco before dinner, a really nice Sangiovese with dinner and then grappa afterward.
And that was pretty much it for the rest of 2008 - a lot of work, a lot of sadness, some disappointment realizing that those relatives are not going to treat me the way that I want to be treated, or even as fairly as they always claimed they would. But overall, just another year.
More on the start of 2009 later .
But it is done and while Ms. Packratty did her part, a certain sibling on the other end of the move did not. However, that is not Ms. Packratty's concern. Ms. Packratty did everything she committed to doing and more. If other people dropped the ball and the parties in the middle chose to overlook it, so be it.
There has not been much knitting. Mostly socks and other small projects and not much of that. Mainly been too busy, too tired, too frazzled to do much of anything.
Charlie is a good boy. We went to the beach again, but much of the week involved family, so it was NOT relaxing. We won't be doing that again unless we can have peace and quiet - I love my family, but when you work 50 weeks of the year under the pressure we do here, you need real decompression time and catering to fussy older relatives, cooking and cleaning and being criticized non-stop the whole while is NOT relaxing.
Christmas was pleasant and quiet and I had a lovely Christmas Eve with friends. I got to cook - veal marsala, mushroom risotto and asparagus, with Prosecco before dinner, a really nice Sangiovese with dinner and then grappa afterward.
And that was pretty much it for the rest of 2008 - a lot of work, a lot of sadness, some disappointment realizing that those relatives are not going to treat me the way that I want to be treated, or even as fairly as they always claimed they would. But overall, just another year.
More on the start of 2009 later .
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Time to get cracking
OK, Ms. Packratty has been a lazy slug, but there has been a whole lot of ugly at work and many strenuous things happening at work and home.
First of all, work has been a seemingly endless successions of FUBARs. Not FUBARs that can be laid at the feet of yours truly, but FUBARs related to Ms. Packratty's unspeakable manager and other workplace morons as well as horrible things happening to a couple of co-workers. One of Ms Packratty's direct coworkers, with whome she shared the late shift, was diagnosed with advanced colon cancer and is only now slowing recovering from the first of at least 2 surgeries. A second coworker went into the hospital to remove a mass on his lung that was thought to be benign (non-smoker and all that) only to be dead within six weeks of advanced lung and bone cancer.
So things have been less than good at work. Plus there has been a lot of software changes and system updates, many of which have gone poorly.
Biggest news has been that my parents now have a dog, a delightful little Norwich from Marleen and they are moving to the DC area within the next few months to an apartment which will be much better for them than the split entry foyer house they are in now. However this means that Ms. Packratty's mother is proceeding to gift Ms. Packratty with more things than Ms. Packratty can presently accommodate. Books, china, clocks and artwork for the most part now, but larger things are coming. Room must be made; files must be emptied, closets consolidated.
With that said, Ms. Packratty is on a strict yarn diet for the rest of the year. Even though she is drooling over the Shorelines jacket, 2200 yards of what she wants to knit it in just won't make it into the budget. Budget you say? Well, there's a painting to be paid for and a HELOC that needs to be paid off ASAP. Plus all the normal bills.
So that's that.
On a health note, Ms. Packratty has been trekking to a farmer's market in the parking lot of her church and buying beautiful, beautiful fresh goodies every week. Radishes and tomatoes and arugula and cucumbers made it into the bag this past weekend, along with some lovcely flatbread and brioche rolls from a new bakery. Yummy.
We'll see how the fiscal diet goes - details to follow. The basics are no more yarn. Not even sock yarn because the Packratty premises currently contain enough sock yarn to accommodate knitting socks until the end of the year, easily. No new clothes - with the exception of underwear and hosiery. No doodads. No gewgaws or goodies. Food and household necessities only with an eye to buying those as frugally as possible.
We'll see.
First of all, work has been a seemingly endless successions of FUBARs. Not FUBARs that can be laid at the feet of yours truly, but FUBARs related to Ms. Packratty's unspeakable manager and other workplace morons as well as horrible things happening to a couple of co-workers. One of Ms Packratty's direct coworkers, with whome she shared the late shift, was diagnosed with advanced colon cancer and is only now slowing recovering from the first of at least 2 surgeries. A second coworker went into the hospital to remove a mass on his lung that was thought to be benign (non-smoker and all that) only to be dead within six weeks of advanced lung and bone cancer.
So things have been less than good at work. Plus there has been a lot of software changes and system updates, many of which have gone poorly.
Biggest news has been that my parents now have a dog, a delightful little Norwich from Marleen and they are moving to the DC area within the next few months to an apartment which will be much better for them than the split entry foyer house they are in now. However this means that Ms. Packratty's mother is proceeding to gift Ms. Packratty with more things than Ms. Packratty can presently accommodate. Books, china, clocks and artwork for the most part now, but larger things are coming. Room must be made; files must be emptied, closets consolidated.
With that said, Ms. Packratty is on a strict yarn diet for the rest of the year. Even though she is drooling over the Shorelines jacket, 2200 yards of what she wants to knit it in just won't make it into the budget. Budget you say? Well, there's a painting to be paid for and a HELOC that needs to be paid off ASAP. Plus all the normal bills.
So that's that.
On a health note, Ms. Packratty has been trekking to a farmer's market in the parking lot of her church and buying beautiful, beautiful fresh goodies every week. Radishes and tomatoes and arugula and cucumbers made it into the bag this past weekend, along with some lovcely flatbread and brioche rolls from a new bakery. Yummy.
We'll see how the fiscal diet goes - details to follow. The basics are no more yarn. Not even sock yarn because the Packratty premises currently contain enough sock yarn to accommodate knitting socks until the end of the year, easily. No new clothes - with the exception of underwear and hosiery. No doodads. No gewgaws or goodies. Food and household necessities only with an eye to buying those as frugally as possible.
We'll see.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Hotter Than The Hinges of Hell's Barbecue
Atlanta is HOT. Like a rotisserie. Hitting the century mark and even with the AC running full time, the house was still close to 80 degrees when I got home - now the AC *may* need a Freon boost and I'm working on that, but upstairs you could just feel the heat pressing down from the ceiling and the roof above it, so I think it's just a case of more heat than the AC can reasonably handle. It's occurred to me - on evenings when a dusk rain shower has cooled the house dramatically in minutes - that if I ever built a house, I might have some sort of sprinkler arrangement on the roof allowing me to imitate a shower and cool the roof down on a hot night with no rain in sight. Either that or live in a house where I could hose down the roof!
My final Fripp pictures are cool and green. Almost every time I leave Beaufort, unless the weather is unspeakable, I stop at the Old Sheldon Church between Gardens Corners and Yemassee. It's on a little shortcut between the two hamlets and a much prettier drive than the 4 lane alternative and Ms. Packratty would much rather drive a little slower on a 2-lane road that is canopied with live oaks than a 4-lane with billboards.
Like the Chapel of Ease on St. Helena, the Old Sheldon Church is a burned out shell, however the Old Sheldon Church is still an active church. One service (Episcopalian, of course), is held there a year and numerous weddings. T
he church was first built in 1745, burned by the British during the American Revolution and rebuilt in the early 19th century, only to be burned again during the Civil War. The second structure represented the first temple-form neoclassical structure in America, and began the Greek Revival style in the South. I find it a place of unearthly peace and beauty. The grounds are kept mowed and there is a well with hand a pump which used to water horses and now washes the hands of tourists. Fortunately it has suffered little from the sort of yahoo who must leave his spoor everywhere, although there are numerous places where creatures of this sort have carved their initials into the soft brick. Not a recent phenomenon at all, though - one such graffito is dated 1840 or 1849 ... A personal aside - the name Sheldon Church comes from the English family seat of the Bull family of the parish, of which my old friend Jennie Clarkson Olbrych is a descendant - and she herself was the first woman ordained to the priesthood in that same diocese. She is now vicar of St. James Santee (another pre-Revolutionary church) in McClellanville and the mother of 5 children. http://www.stjamesec.org/
he church was first built in 1745, burned by the British during the American Revolution and rebuilt in the early 19th century, only to be burned again during the Civil War. The second structure represented the first temple-form neoclassical structure in America, and began the Greek Revival style in the South. I find it a place of unearthly peace and beauty. The grounds are kept mowed and there is a well with hand a pump which used to water horses and now washes the hands of tourists. Fortunately it has suffered little from the sort of yahoo who must leave his spoor everywhere, although there are numerous places where creatures of this sort have carved their initials into the soft brick. Not a recent phenomenon at all, though - one such graffito is dated 1840 or 1849 ... A personal aside - the name Sheldon Church comes from the English family seat of the Bull family of the parish, of which my old friend Jennie Clarkson Olbrych is a descendant - and she herself was the first woman ordained to the priesthood in that same diocese. She is now vicar of St. James Santee (another pre-Revolutionary church) in McClellanville and the mother of 5 children. http://www.stjamesec.org/Between the climate and the lack of huge amounts of traffic, some of the flora is astonishing. Live oak trees have branches dripping to the ground and one such branch is supporting a colony of fungi, Spanish moss and ferns in an epiphytic explosion.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Tagged
By the Peach Pod.
The Starbucker Meme!
Here's an opportunity to let your creativity flow. Tell us:
The Starbucker Meme!
Here's an opportunity to let your creativity flow. Tell us:
- How full is your glass?
- What kind of glass is it?
- What's in the glass?
- Reasons for #1, #2, and #3
My answers:
1. Usually topped up.
2. Champagne flute!
3. Champagne or Prosecco
4. Question1 - Like all women, I need an 8 day week of 30 hour days to get everything done. question 2 and 3 - Because life should be a celebration.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Not Enough Vacation — on the other hand,
I was getting quite lazy enough down at Fripp by day 4 or so. I did get to compute a little, but it was all teaching aunt and uncle how to do some things with pictures.
So what was a typical day? Walk Charlie at 7, then have a cup of tea and go back to bed for another hour or two; then breakfast and some knitting and reading. I made several outings, including one to Penn Center on St. Helena. I also took Charlie on daily golf cart rides. Then, either before the worst heat of the day or late in the afternoon, Charlie and I would go down to the beach. First we would swim in the big tidal pool that has developed behind the now enormous sand bar - a sand bar which is acquiring vegetation. Then we would walk to the north end of the sand bar, which touches the island now, and walk out onto the sand bar.
There, Charlie could go off lead and run like a maniac dog for a while; we would walk the length of the sand bar, which I suspect is between a quarter and a half a mile, then wade/swim back to the beach from the southernmost end (which does not connect to the beach at low tide) and then walk back up the beach to where we left towels and such.
Charlie met plenty of other dogs and made up to every human being he met.
This is a picture of Charlie diligently sniffing at the waterline. He is NOT a fan of waves, but definitely found the beach a place of many delightful smells. He was not terribly enthusiastic about the post beach bathing, either.
We spent a lot of time hanging around - as I said, I did a lot of reading and some knitting and Charlie was quite content to hang out with me. he behaved well and stayed off mom's furniture - in fact I had to coax him up onto the bench to take this picture:
Mr. Charlie Rufus definitely needs a comb out and some trimming, which he'll probably get this weekend. I figured he might as well enjoy being a shaggy dog at the beach and I didn't want him getting sunburned. Love that BIG black nose.
He did find one article in the house to be endlessly fascinating, hopping in and out of it with regularity. I suspect Mom won't be too cranky about his affection for her basket - he didn't chew on it or scratch it - just climb in and look adorable.
That and the box of Cheese Nips that my nephew apparently secreted between the wall and the end of the couch - I wondered why Charlie didn't seem to be eating much but didn't seem hungry ....
Ms. Packratty did not get anything more done on the Mystery Shawl project, which remains pitifully small. I simply didn't feel like I needed to add challenges or frustration to my vacation. Considering how rested I felt on my return, I believe this was the correct approach.
More pictures from our trip home in the next post.
So what was a typical day? Walk Charlie at 7, then have a cup of tea and go back to bed for another hour or two; then breakfast and some knitting and reading. I made several outings, including one to Penn Center on St. Helena. I also took Charlie on daily golf cart rides. Then, either before the worst heat of the day or late in the afternoon, Charlie and I would go down to the beach. First we would swim in the big tidal pool that has developed behind the now enormous sand bar - a sand bar which is acquiring vegetation. Then we would walk to the north end of the sand bar, which touches the island now, and walk out onto the sand bar.
There, Charlie could go off lead and run like a maniac dog for a while; we would walk the length of the sand bar, which I suspect is between a quarter and a half a mile, then wade/swim back to the beach from the southernmost end (which does not connect to the beach at low tide) and then walk back up the beach to where we left towels and such.
Charlie met plenty of other dogs and made up to every human being he met.
This is a picture of Charlie diligently sniffing at the waterline. He is NOT a fan of waves, but definitely found the beach a place of many delightful smells. He was not terribly enthusiastic about the post beach bathing, either.
We spent a lot of time hanging around - as I said, I did a lot of reading and some knitting and Charlie was quite content to hang out with me. he behaved well and stayed off mom's furniture - in fact I had to coax him up onto the bench to take this picture:
Mr. Charlie Rufus definitely needs a comb out and some trimming, which he'll probably get this weekend. I figured he might as well enjoy being a shaggy dog at the beach and I didn't want him getting sunburned. Love that BIG black nose.
He did find one article in the house to be endlessly fascinating, hopping in and out of it with regularity. I suspect Mom won't be too cranky about his affection for her basket - he didn't chew on it or scratch it - just climb in and look adorable.
That and the box of Cheese Nips that my nephew apparently secreted between the wall and the end of the couch - I wondered why Charlie didn't seem to be eating much but didn't seem hungry ....
Ms. Packratty did not get anything more done on the Mystery Shawl project, which remains pitifully small. I simply didn't feel like I needed to add challenges or frustration to my vacation. Considering how rested I felt on my return, I believe this was the correct approach.
More pictures from our trip home in the next post.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
We have Fripped and we are back
Pictures now, more later:
The house is over on the right nestled in among those trees. Great marsh view, but hard for anyone to see *us*.
Marsh on the other side of the causeway where a number of egrets and wood storks roost, along with some migratories. The birds *are there* in the trees.
More pictures of Charlie and the Beaufort environs later. There was reading and knitting and eating of shrimp and riding Charlie about in the golf cart, which he regards as his chariot. My sib managed to leave crumbs and crud and a flat tire on the golf cart for me to deal with. Gee thanks. This is the one who picked an argument some time back because I dropped a couple of strawberry hulls on the floor while making a quart-sized strawberry shortcake. Uh huh.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Working the late shift
I worked the 11 a.m. to 8 p.m. shift today and got no knitting done because I am desperately trying to get the newsletter out before I go on vacation. And there was a serious epidemic of stupid going on, coupled with Internet access and VPN issues. I found myself explaining to a *programmer* that the fact that other people besides him were having VPN issues meant that it was likely the VPN problem and not his individual setup and in any event, I could not do eff-all to troubleshoot his personal issues until the VPN was actually functioning. I also hate the users who call up and tell me everything except their name and branch number - excuse me? How am I supposed to look up your data if you tell me your name is Mike in Chicago? We have probably 6 Mikes in various Chicago branches ... a last name would help too!
Yes, Ms. Packratty and Charlie are headed for Fripp Island SC in about 9 days to veg out and swill in salt water for a week. I will be taking several knitting projects and a stack of books along and very little else besides pajamas and swimsuits. Theme: Decompression. Badly, badly needed. Ms. Packratty is ready to start wringing necks over the phone.
I did, however, nip out at lunch (4 p.m.) and buy straight bamboo needles for the MS3. I'd have spent $5 more and bought bamboo circs, but Michael's is too stupid to carry circs in a full range of sizes. And if I'd had more time, I'd have driven to the nearby Needlenook, but I didn't have time, either. I was getting too frustrated with the join on the circs I was using AND trying to see the Vanilla Zephyr on white needles. Let's see if the bamboo is better. It's got a bit of grab, which I think is a good thing with Zephyr.
If I can get 5 more rows of clue A done tonight, I'll be delighted. And then I'm going to bed and getting up early to go to the tailgate market at the park for real tomatoes.
Yes, Ms. Packratty and Charlie are headed for Fripp Island SC in about 9 days to veg out and swill in salt water for a week. I will be taking several knitting projects and a stack of books along and very little else besides pajamas and swimsuits. Theme: Decompression. Badly, badly needed. Ms. Packratty is ready to start wringing necks over the phone.
I did, however, nip out at lunch (4 p.m.) and buy straight bamboo needles for the MS3. I'd have spent $5 more and bought bamboo circs, but Michael's is too stupid to carry circs in a full range of sizes. And if I'd had more time, I'd have driven to the nearby Needlenook, but I didn't have time, either. I was getting too frustrated with the join on the circs I was using AND trying to see the Vanilla Zephyr on white needles. Let's see if the bamboo is better. It's got a bit of grab, which I think is a good thing with Zephyr.
If I can get 5 more rows of clue A done tonight, I'll be delighted. And then I'm going to bed and getting up early to go to the tailgate market at the park for real tomatoes.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Tee Hee
Put in a lifeline at the end of the "page" of lace instructions and completed the 10 rows on the next page. Only had to tink back part of one row when I came up with too few knit stitches before the YO, K K that ends each knit row - counting the purl row carefully means I know that I'm starting the next row with the right number of stitches. Do wish my needles weren't white with ivory yarn, though.
And, I figured out that when a bead goes on after a YO, it's MUCH easier to put the bead on the stitch and pop it back on the left needle and then YO and knit the beaded stitch than to try to juggle the YO while putting a bead on.
And before I get too tired and start messing up, I'm going to thread in another lifeline and turn my attention to the second Monkeys sock. Picture of Monkey 1 tomorrow ....
And, I figured out that when a bead goes on after a YO, it's MUCH easier to put the bead on the stitch and pop it back on the left needle and then YO and knit the beaded stitch than to try to juggle the YO while putting a bead on.
And before I get too tired and start messing up, I'm going to thread in another lifeline and turn my attention to the second Monkeys sock. Picture of Monkey 1 tomorrow ....
Rape, sexual assault, culture and common sense
So after getting the tiniest 25 rows done on MS3, I went home and went to bed. No knitting last night, although I did, before leaving work, cast on for the second Monkeys sock in the Fleece Artist Nova Scotia sock yarn (which is yummy).
Then I read The Yarn Harlot's blog about the sexual assault trial in which the words rape and sexual assault, etc. have been banned by the judge. Just how far political correctness is going to go, I don't know, but this sort of cock-eyed thinking is clearly the product of a mentality where we have newscasters calling a rapist "the gentleman" or when prostitutes are called "ladies".
I have news for them - rapists are not gentlemen and hookers aren't ladies. But carry this sort of "we mustn't label anyone anything negative" mentality and you get a sexual assault trial in which the words sexual assault can't be mentioned.
Now that said - what in heck are these young women thinking? There have been a string of cases in which apparently intelligent (OK, attending college or grad school which should mean some degree of brightness) women go out and get plastered and bad things happen to them. No,
I'm not blaming the victim for the fact that there are bad people out there who do bad things, but I am saying, you know, just saying, that anyone with any sense has to know that there are bad people out there and that getting drunk in bars (and having friends that leave you while you are drunk) is a not very sensible thing to do. Is it fair, when men can go get plastered and the worst that might happen is losing their wallet? No. It's not. And the one thing that Jimmy Carter ever said that I agreed with is "Life isn't fair."
Now, that said, it behooves women of all ages to remember that there are bad people out there and that getting drunk or even tipsy with someone you don't know is probably not a good idea. And if you go out with female friends and one of them gets tipsy, don't let her wander off with someone she doesn't know. Exercise some caution - because there are bad people out there and while it would be really nice if we could live our lives as if there weren't ...
Even back in the long ago past when Ms. Packratty was attending college and there were no such things as "date rape drugs", we were cautioned not to leave a drink where anyone could get at it (there was a quaint, not so funny practice of putting hallucinogens in people's drinks back then and Ms. Packratty has always preferred her trips to come with airline tickets).
Ms. Packratty also noted the name of the accused reflects the strong possibility that he is the product of a culture with little or no respect for women, especially Western women. She also noted news reports that two other women came forward after the fact with claims that he had done the same thing to them. Perhaps this third young woman would not have been a victim of Pamir Safi if one of the prior victims had reported it. On the other hand, if the judge's ridiculous ruling on language reflects the local community's attitude toward rape, one might understand why the earlier victims did not.
So, to recap - the judge's ruling is insane (but a logical extension of the illogical political correctness doctrines) and young women need to exercise caution out on the town and men who rape should be punished.
Then I read The Yarn Harlot's blog about the sexual assault trial in which the words rape and sexual assault, etc. have been banned by the judge. Just how far political correctness is going to go, I don't know, but this sort of cock-eyed thinking is clearly the product of a mentality where we have newscasters calling a rapist "the gentleman" or when prostitutes are called "ladies".
I have news for them - rapists are not gentlemen and hookers aren't ladies. But carry this sort of "we mustn't label anyone anything negative" mentality and you get a sexual assault trial in which the words sexual assault can't be mentioned.
Now that said - what in heck are these young women thinking? There have been a string of cases in which apparently intelligent (OK, attending college or grad school which should mean some degree of brightness) women go out and get plastered and bad things happen to them. No,
I'm not blaming the victim for the fact that there are bad people out there who do bad things, but I am saying, you know, just saying, that anyone with any sense has to know that there are bad people out there and that getting drunk in bars (and having friends that leave you while you are drunk) is a not very sensible thing to do. Is it fair, when men can go get plastered and the worst that might happen is losing their wallet? No. It's not. And the one thing that Jimmy Carter ever said that I agreed with is "Life isn't fair."
Now, that said, it behooves women of all ages to remember that there are bad people out there and that getting drunk or even tipsy with someone you don't know is probably not a good idea. And if you go out with female friends and one of them gets tipsy, don't let her wander off with someone she doesn't know. Exercise some caution - because there are bad people out there and while it would be really nice if we could live our lives as if there weren't ...
Even back in the long ago past when Ms. Packratty was attending college and there were no such things as "date rape drugs", we were cautioned not to leave a drink where anyone could get at it (there was a quaint, not so funny practice of putting hallucinogens in people's drinks back then and Ms. Packratty has always preferred her trips to come with airline tickets).
Ms. Packratty also noted the name of the accused reflects the strong possibility that he is the product of a culture with little or no respect for women, especially Western women. She also noted news reports that two other women came forward after the fact with claims that he had done the same thing to them. Perhaps this third young woman would not have been a victim of Pamir Safi if one of the prior victims had reported it. On the other hand, if the judge's ridiculous ruling on language reflects the local community's attitude toward rape, one might understand why the earlier victims did not.
So, to recap - the judge's ruling is insane (but a logical extension of the illogical political correctness doctrines) and young women need to exercise caution out on the town and men who rape should be punished.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
I'm so much not a joiner ... yeah right
I fell right down that Mystery Shawl knitalong rabbit hole. Hard. And fell right off the "knitting from stash" diet too - although I made that for an entire six months (excepting dishcloth and sock yarn).
But yeah, I got suckered right in, even though I have never tackled anything but some very simple lace. Me and 6500 + others. Oy.
OK, the statistics.
Jaggerspun Zephyr Vanilla, 2 balls
size 5 needles and creamy ivory colored pearl beads from Beadwrangler (whose service is amazingly fast).
I've managed a whole 25 of the first Clue's 100 rows and thank heavens for the nice lady who is translating the charts. This should be quite a challenge.
Hope I'm up to it.
The latest of Summer's bounty.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Anonymous? Don't bother.
Put your name on it or don't bother. If you want to respond to anything I have to say, don't expect me to publish it if you are posting anonymously and I have no opportunity to respond directly.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Big News
I don't know when exactly or where, but I have been informed at a certain Canadian author is coming to Atlanta with her sock.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Happy 231st America!
The first member of my family to reach these shores arrived in 1632. Simon had been a yeoman farmer and served in the king's army, but when he had a chance to flee England for a place where he could worship as he chose and make more of his life than was possible in England, he did. Simon ended his days at 71, having married 3 times and fathered 17 children. He was also a major in the colonial militia, founded a town and was an overall success. On the other side of my family, Richard, born in the north of England, came to the colonies 3 years after Simon and also served in the colonial militia. He died at 81, having also married three times and fathering 14 children.
In the years since then, in every war and conflict through Vietnam, someone in my direct line has served this country. Willards and Hildreths have marched and sailed, fought and bled as officers and enlisted. I am descended from several officers in the Revolutionary War and dozens of enlistees. I am proud of this country, proud that we have managed to steer a course that still gives more freedom to more people than anywhere else - as well as more opportunity - and I pray we shall long be the example of freedom to the world.
With that, I will do my own version of a recent Canadian post:
A is for All of the citizens serving to protect this country and the peace of the world.
M is for Mercy. America has proved time and time again to be a terrible enemy but a merciful victor. This is another tradition I hope and pray we continue to follow even though it undoubtedly makes us appear weak to barbarians.
E is for English, our common tongue. Yes, we butcher the King's version, but American English is vibrant and lively and borrows freely from almost every culture we encounter. Barbecue from the Arawaks, amok from the Moros - if we find a useful word, we'll appropriate it. Look up boondocks, for example!
R is for our Revolution. We won our freedom and we have tried to spread the gospel of freedom.
I is for Invention. America was the first country to recognize intellectual property with a patent system and trademarks. The US Patent Office has patents that you can view online going back to 1790, when our country was barely a going concern. One of our Presidents has even held a patent.
C is for Charity. We excel at it both at home and abroad. If tragedy strikes a community or a country, Americans will be sending soup, bandages and cash within hours - and not primarily through government agencies, but through groups such as the Red Cross, the Salvation Army and dozens and dozens of smaller groups.
A is for ambition. In America, ambition and hard work can make you. Who your parents were or where they came from is much less important than what you want to achieve and how hard you are willing to work to do so.
The truth about this country is illustrated most vividly in the fact that all over the world in countries of every type, there are people standing in line and staking all they have on a chance to come here, whereas, I am informed, the line to leave here is small.
In the years since then, in every war and conflict through Vietnam, someone in my direct line has served this country. Willards and Hildreths have marched and sailed, fought and bled as officers and enlisted. I am descended from several officers in the Revolutionary War and dozens of enlistees. I am proud of this country, proud that we have managed to steer a course that still gives more freedom to more people than anywhere else - as well as more opportunity - and I pray we shall long be the example of freedom to the world.
With that, I will do my own version of a recent Canadian post:
A is for All of the citizens serving to protect this country and the peace of the world.
M is for Mercy. America has proved time and time again to be a terrible enemy but a merciful victor. This is another tradition I hope and pray we continue to follow even though it undoubtedly makes us appear weak to barbarians.
E is for English, our common tongue. Yes, we butcher the King's version, but American English is vibrant and lively and borrows freely from almost every culture we encounter. Barbecue from the Arawaks, amok from the Moros - if we find a useful word, we'll appropriate it. Look up boondocks, for example!
R is for our Revolution. We won our freedom and we have tried to spread the gospel of freedom.
I is for Invention. America was the first country to recognize intellectual property with a patent system and trademarks. The US Patent Office has patents that you can view online going back to 1790, when our country was barely a going concern. One of our Presidents has even held a patent.
C is for Charity. We excel at it both at home and abroad. If tragedy strikes a community or a country, Americans will be sending soup, bandages and cash within hours - and not primarily through government agencies, but through groups such as the Red Cross, the Salvation Army and dozens and dozens of smaller groups.
A is for ambition. In America, ambition and hard work can make you. Who your parents were or where they came from is much less important than what you want to achieve and how hard you are willing to work to do so.
The truth about this country is illustrated most vividly in the fact that all over the world in countries of every type, there are people standing in line and staking all they have on a chance to come here, whereas, I am informed, the line to leave here is small.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Don't get me wrong
I love our Canadian neighbors and our Canadian knitbloggers and I would certainly join them in a chorus of "O Canada" on July 1. However, the crowing about their "National Health Care" and labeling it "working" is just untenable.
First, the financing of their health care system is possible only because Canada has eviscerated its military and depends on the shield and buckler of the US military for much of its security. Although there are some plans in place to beef up the miniscule 60K active duty force, this is a tiny number of the people it should take to defend the large territory that Canada occupies. Proof of this is that the Canadian forces had trouble supplying replacement troops for the 850 people they sent to Afghanistan after their rotation was over. Imagine a country the size of Canada and they have so few troops that they had trouble rotating less than 1,000 personnel.
As for the working part of the health care system up there, I had an older relative here in the US just get knee replacement surgery in less than 3 weeks from the time it was determined that it was needed. There were other medical factors that slowed the process down by a week or the surgery would have been done even earlier. Contrast this with the fate of a grandmother of an acquaintance, who spent 6 months wheelchair bound waiting to get on the list to have knee repair (repair, NOT replacement) and finally gave up and crossed the border and paid cash to aUS doctor and hospital to do the job. Of course, the US doctors said a repair would only fend off a knee replacement by a couple of years, but in the Canadian system, she'd have waited another 6 months for the "repair" then when that failed in 2 years, she'd be on the waiting list for a replacement and God only knows how long you have to wait for a knee replacement. Maybe the notion is that she would die of old age in the wheelchair before the taxpayers had to fund the knee replacement.
Not to say there isn't plenty that could be better about the US health care model - for example, the fact that too many people use emergency facilities for minor injuries and illnesses is frustrating. We need to have urgent care clinics that can handle things like a severe ear infection at 2 a.m. or a hand cut open on a broken glass at 4 p.m. on Sunday without bothering the ER. Our military medical system used to do this very well, separating real emergencies from things that need care with some urgency, but don't require ER facilities. Apparently the civilian model mostly doesn't.
And I say all this as a private citizen with a chronic illness who has been occasionally uninsured and had to muddle through.
First, the financing of their health care system is possible only because Canada has eviscerated its military and depends on the shield and buckler of the US military for much of its security. Although there are some plans in place to beef up the miniscule 60K active duty force, this is a tiny number of the people it should take to defend the large territory that Canada occupies. Proof of this is that the Canadian forces had trouble supplying replacement troops for the 850 people they sent to Afghanistan after their rotation was over. Imagine a country the size of Canada and they have so few troops that they had trouble rotating less than 1,000 personnel.
As for the working part of the health care system up there, I had an older relative here in the US just get knee replacement surgery in less than 3 weeks from the time it was determined that it was needed. There were other medical factors that slowed the process down by a week or the surgery would have been done even earlier. Contrast this with the fate of a grandmother of an acquaintance, who spent 6 months wheelchair bound waiting to get on the list to have knee repair (repair, NOT replacement) and finally gave up and crossed the border and paid cash to aUS doctor and hospital to do the job. Of course, the US doctors said a repair would only fend off a knee replacement by a couple of years, but in the Canadian system, she'd have waited another 6 months for the "repair" then when that failed in 2 years, she'd be on the waiting list for a replacement and God only knows how long you have to wait for a knee replacement. Maybe the notion is that she would die of old age in the wheelchair before the taxpayers had to fund the knee replacement.
Not to say there isn't plenty that could be better about the US health care model - for example, the fact that too many people use emergency facilities for minor injuries and illnesses is frustrating. We need to have urgent care clinics that can handle things like a severe ear infection at 2 a.m. or a hand cut open on a broken glass at 4 p.m. on Sunday without bothering the ER. Our military medical system used to do this very well, separating real emergencies from things that need care with some urgency, but don't require ER facilities. Apparently the civilian model mostly doesn't.
And I say all this as a private citizen with a chronic illness who has been occasionally uninsured and had to muddle through.
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