I never did post my Thanksgiving pictures. This is part of Liza's living room and the view out the back of her house. I love staring out the windows into the woods, it's hypnotic for me. There was still some color in her woods, which was very cheery. I had a good visit there and all 3 of us had a wonderful time together. At least that's what we all said. Yes, I'm sure we meant it.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Apocalypse Now
We spent a HUGE amount of time watching the fish, talking about the fish, pondering the fish, admiring the tenacity of the fish. These goldfish were used in the wonderful dinner party thing that Mark does: he covers the dinner table with plastic, then a mirror, builds up the sides so the whole thing holds water, then puts goldfish in it so they swim around while you eat. It's very complicated, how you have the plates & everything, I don't really understand it. The man has an amazing mind. Anyway, he used to buy 50 feeder goldfish for this fete, but this time he only got 10 and they were real goldfish After the dinner they dumped the fish into the pond in Liza's back yard. 5 of them died, but these, the hardiest, survived. When it got cold Mark bought an aquarium and here they are. The flash from the camera terrified them and they all swam to the corner to stare at their reflections.
Liza objects to the way Mark stares at the fish all through dinner and keeps saying she's going to trade seats with him so his back will be facing the tank. She says she gets to look at them all day so she wouldn't be watching them at night. I watched them all through dinner too, which didn't help matters much.
Once when Jamie and I were there Mark did the fish thing and Jamie refused to believe Mark when he said they were all feeder fish and would die soon. We had to buy a goldfish bowl and take them all home with us. 14 of them died on the trip home, then about 4 died every day until there was only 1 left. That one lasted quite a while, but it did prove (once again) that Jamie might realize that he wasn't always right. I'm sure he still doesn't believe that.
Liza objects to the way Mark stares at the fish all through dinner and keeps saying she's going to trade seats with him so his back will be facing the tank. She says she gets to look at them all day so she wouldn't be watching them at night. I watched them all through dinner too, which didn't help matters much.
Once when Jamie and I were there Mark did the fish thing and Jamie refused to believe Mark when he said they were all feeder fish and would die soon. We had to buy a goldfish bowl and take them all home with us. 14 of them died on the trip home, then about 4 died every day until there was only 1 left. That one lasted quite a while, but it did prove (once again) that Jamie might realize that he wasn't always right. I'm sure he still doesn't believe that.
Always respect animals
We went shopping at this funny place where Liza and I used to go, a complex of old buildings that I think was once a farm. Each building had a bunch of different sorts of stuff, ornaments, little things--we used to spend a lot of time looking at each thing. Now there are only three shops and one of them is full of stuff from Africa, one sells expensive organic clothing and the third has some doo-dads and ornaments. We had fun shopping there with Mark, but it wasn't as much fun as we used to have. They have animals there, though (obviously) in pens in the back.
Ice doesn't flow
This was funny looking because it's strange to see icicles like this in RI, where it never seems to get that cold, and there were nice yellow leaves at the bottom of the bowl of the fountain, which just seemed strange. Pretty, though.
Try some of my purple berries
We puzzled over these berries for a pretty long time. None of us could figure out what kind of bush this was and we all agreed we'd NEVER seen berries this color before. Very strange, very strange indeed.
Special language
They had Guinea hens. I think they're also called pea hens. Strange birds, these. They make strange sounds but are supposed to be nice to have around, I've heard.
"Like a llama, or an emu"
There are a surprising number of emus in RI. There's one emu farm Liza and I have been to a few times because there's a nice view of Great Pond near it. What a really strange thing.
CHANCES of sweet dreams
Poor Chances never really did relax. NOT. This is one of the pictures I'm sending with my Christmas cards.
Friday, December 07, 2007
"Help, I need somebody
Help, not just anybody"
--Lennon/McCartney
What nice people this blogger circle is made up of. Nice support, sensible comments, compassion. Molly is right, I am the person I was before, in many ways. None of us is the same after all the miles we've traveled. Not only is the warranty up--our bodies start really falling apart at 40, but we learn lots of stuff from life's experiences. And I have had a lot of experiences. Not experiences like climbing Everest (I have asthma) or getting a PhD (oh, dissertations are so long) or having septuplets (or having any child) or joining the Peace Corps (I give that a thought every so often), or swimming the English Channel (yuck--all that goo you have to cover your body with) or owning a horse and breeding at least 5 different breeds of dogs (what's stopping me from doing that? 1/3 laziness, 1/3 money and 1/3 I would never be able to go anywhere. But think how much fun that would be!).
Molly's support is nice--she's the person, the only one, whose memory of me as a child I can count on. Our mother's past is of a different reality. Anyway, we all wonder what we were like as children, don't we? And we all wonder what type of person we've been at different times in our lives. Molly, Fred and the Laundrys tell me I'm generous. Not something I've ever thought about myself--in fact, I've always thought I was selfish. Terribly insecure, incredibly insecure. But see? You don't know what people think of you, really. And I do like some things about myself. But I still feel it's a lot (too much?) of work to behave like the kind of person I expect myself to be. No, my standards are not too high, trust me. I see people on the news here all the time from our "urban" areas (Burlington and Plattsburgh are too small to have slums, but they sure have poorly educated, welfare-collecting, wife-beating, child-abusing residents). Last night's news had footage of a shooting in which the victim's brother (sister shot by her boyfriend) said, "We knew he was crazy, but he don't know how crazy we are." Here's my reaction to that: good about myself, disappointed in America, lucky I was raised by the people I was raised by and surrounded by the people I'm surrounded by, and sad that the guy didn't/couldn't take advantage of what was hopefully available to him as a child so he wouldn't turn out to be that man. Oh how preachy and judgmental I am.
Last night I sat, pretty tearily watching TV, proud of myself for making it through another day (don't read more into that than there is) and hoping for a better one today. I like going to bed, it's a cheerful time for me because the dogs and I are a pack (yes, Dog Whisperer, I think I am the Pack Leader, but they sure are not in a calm, submissive state) with a specific and joyous routine. That makes me feel good about myself. Once, just after my father died, my mother told my evil uncle that she found that having a dog help her with her grief. His reply, in a letter (here's a direct quote, often used by Liza and me) was "Thank goodness I don't have to rely on a dog for company." What a charmer he was. Always made me sit on his lap, pinched me. Jamie's grandfather, jealous and petty.
Anyway, today is another day, Scarlett, and I'm tottering along. I know the people at my coffee place think I'm always cheerful and never cross (this is what they tell me). Today was the day I got my free coffee (after buying 6 cups you get a free one) so I made a fuss about loving my Free Fridays. If I can be cheerful there, what? Is it gone within the next 20 miles, before I reach Plattsburgh? I usually get in my car with my coffee, feeling pretty good about myself, about my life, where I live--about things. Lots of times I feel that way at work, too. Problem is it's usually when I do good work, or enjoy what I'm doing; I don't often feel so good about my interactions with other people. I like the feeling when things have gone well, I just don't feel that it comes often enough. And I feel as if I'm much better, and much less often am I "that person" but I have a residually bad reputation among my co-workers. That's one of the things that depresses me: you can't undo your behavior in the past. Thank goodness we have a new director and she doesn't see me that way--she just sees me as high-maintenance but well worth the effort. And she likes me.
So yes, I feel good about myself. That's not so much an issue. What I feel is tired. Tired of trying, tired of concentrating, tired of thinking about my behavior. I think I do feel OK about not being the same person I was--Molly helped put that in perspective. It's a very strange thing, though, to be so different though chemical treatment. I have a friend who had a bone marrow transplant and now has her brother's DNA. She no longer exists--there's no record of her on this planet, none of her DNA. I guess I sort of feel that way, only I think her situation is way more dramatic and complicated. We joke that she could rob a bank and her brother would be arrested.
As for Sue the Bank Not-Lady: she didn't call me back yesterday. I'm not sure what they'll do with me and I can't wait to find out. What do they do with someone who tells them she can't pay what she owes in overdraft charges? Ponder, ponder. I've been rehearsing oh, so many things, and have come up with these factoids:
--I've had an account there for 24 years, nearly half my life
--I've deposited more than 4,000 paychecks in that account
--My ex-husband and I (ok, the "and I" is a stretch) had a business that ran more than $2 million dollars through that bank
--I had a business that ran more than $20,000 through that bank
--I had a personal loan (not by choice: it was to bail out the sawmill when they wouldn't lend Jamie any more money) that I paid off early through that bank.
If they don't appreciate customer loyalty like that, then shame on them. I've already decided I'm closing my account there and switching to Adirondack Bank. It has a much nicer name and they've always been really nice to me and they gave us a mortgage when no one else would even look us in the eye (OK, they only lent us money because Jamie's father crawled across the floor with 8 lbs of filet mignon to offer the president, offering a life of servitude if he'd help us). So now I've grown a backbone and have dried my tears of humility. Bring it on Susan the Bank Not-Lady. "She don't know how crazy I am!"
Help, not just anybody"
--Lennon/McCartney
What nice people this blogger circle is made up of. Nice support, sensible comments, compassion. Molly is right, I am the person I was before, in many ways. None of us is the same after all the miles we've traveled. Not only is the warranty up--our bodies start really falling apart at 40, but we learn lots of stuff from life's experiences. And I have had a lot of experiences. Not experiences like climbing Everest (I have asthma) or getting a PhD (oh, dissertations are so long) or having septuplets (or having any child) or joining the Peace Corps (I give that a thought every so often), or swimming the English Channel (yuck--all that goo you have to cover your body with) or owning a horse and breeding at least 5 different breeds of dogs (what's stopping me from doing that? 1/3 laziness, 1/3 money and 1/3 I would never be able to go anywhere. But think how much fun that would be!).
Molly's support is nice--she's the person, the only one, whose memory of me as a child I can count on. Our mother's past is of a different reality. Anyway, we all wonder what we were like as children, don't we? And we all wonder what type of person we've been at different times in our lives. Molly, Fred and the Laundrys tell me I'm generous. Not something I've ever thought about myself--in fact, I've always thought I was selfish. Terribly insecure, incredibly insecure. But see? You don't know what people think of you, really. And I do like some things about myself. But I still feel it's a lot (too much?) of work to behave like the kind of person I expect myself to be. No, my standards are not too high, trust me. I see people on the news here all the time from our "urban" areas (Burlington and Plattsburgh are too small to have slums, but they sure have poorly educated, welfare-collecting, wife-beating, child-abusing residents). Last night's news had footage of a shooting in which the victim's brother (sister shot by her boyfriend) said, "We knew he was crazy, but he don't know how crazy we are." Here's my reaction to that: good about myself, disappointed in America, lucky I was raised by the people I was raised by and surrounded by the people I'm surrounded by, and sad that the guy didn't/couldn't take advantage of what was hopefully available to him as a child so he wouldn't turn out to be that man. Oh how preachy and judgmental I am.
Last night I sat, pretty tearily watching TV, proud of myself for making it through another day (don't read more into that than there is) and hoping for a better one today. I like going to bed, it's a cheerful time for me because the dogs and I are a pack (yes, Dog Whisperer, I think I am the Pack Leader, but they sure are not in a calm, submissive state) with a specific and joyous routine. That makes me feel good about myself. Once, just after my father died, my mother told my evil uncle that she found that having a dog help her with her grief. His reply, in a letter (here's a direct quote, often used by Liza and me) was "Thank goodness I don't have to rely on a dog for company." What a charmer he was. Always made me sit on his lap, pinched me. Jamie's grandfather, jealous and petty.
Anyway, today is another day, Scarlett, and I'm tottering along. I know the people at my coffee place think I'm always cheerful and never cross (this is what they tell me). Today was the day I got my free coffee (after buying 6 cups you get a free one) so I made a fuss about loving my Free Fridays. If I can be cheerful there, what? Is it gone within the next 20 miles, before I reach Plattsburgh? I usually get in my car with my coffee, feeling pretty good about myself, about my life, where I live--about things. Lots of times I feel that way at work, too. Problem is it's usually when I do good work, or enjoy what I'm doing; I don't often feel so good about my interactions with other people. I like the feeling when things have gone well, I just don't feel that it comes often enough. And I feel as if I'm much better, and much less often am I "that person" but I have a residually bad reputation among my co-workers. That's one of the things that depresses me: you can't undo your behavior in the past. Thank goodness we have a new director and she doesn't see me that way--she just sees me as high-maintenance but well worth the effort. And she likes me.
So yes, I feel good about myself. That's not so much an issue. What I feel is tired. Tired of trying, tired of concentrating, tired of thinking about my behavior. I think I do feel OK about not being the same person I was--Molly helped put that in perspective. It's a very strange thing, though, to be so different though chemical treatment. I have a friend who had a bone marrow transplant and now has her brother's DNA. She no longer exists--there's no record of her on this planet, none of her DNA. I guess I sort of feel that way, only I think her situation is way more dramatic and complicated. We joke that she could rob a bank and her brother would be arrested.
As for Sue the Bank Not-Lady: she didn't call me back yesterday. I'm not sure what they'll do with me and I can't wait to find out. What do they do with someone who tells them she can't pay what she owes in overdraft charges? Ponder, ponder. I've been rehearsing oh, so many things, and have come up with these factoids:
--I've had an account there for 24 years, nearly half my life
--I've deposited more than 4,000 paychecks in that account
--My ex-husband and I (ok, the "and I" is a stretch) had a business that ran more than $2 million dollars through that bank
--I had a business that ran more than $20,000 through that bank
--I had a personal loan (not by choice: it was to bail out the sawmill when they wouldn't lend Jamie any more money) that I paid off early through that bank.
If they don't appreciate customer loyalty like that, then shame on them. I've already decided I'm closing my account there and switching to Adirondack Bank. It has a much nicer name and they've always been really nice to me and they gave us a mortgage when no one else would even look us in the eye (OK, they only lent us money because Jamie's father crawled across the floor with 8 lbs of filet mignon to offer the president, offering a life of servitude if he'd help us). So now I've grown a backbone and have dried my tears of humility. Bring it on Susan the Bank Not-Lady. "She don't know how crazy I am!"
Thursday, December 06, 2007
You have to wonder
just what's going on these days. I called Trudy at the bank because she left a message yesterday. Her news: due to the 8 $34 charges for online payments and purchases that came through before I made my deposit to cover them (which I didn't do until Tuesday, because I didn't come to town because my road wasn't plowed because Iranians are conspiring against me as part of their nucular program), I have a balance of negative $258. Well, yeah--I sure can't pull that out of my ass. I'm a pathetic 50 year old who can't even find 250 one-dollar bills. Quarters, maybe, but not dollar bills. I can sort of joke about it now, but at the time I was devastated. I met with Susan The Cold Hearted Bitch Who Controls All The Money in New York State. She was not the least bit sympathetic, empathetic, compassionate, understanding, nor did any facial muscle move during our entire exchange. Nor did she offer me a kleenex when I started to cry (although she did say, "I know" No, you don't know you stupid bitch--you work at this bank, they let you do this sort of thing). Will the things I paid online be covered? She doesn't think so. I wonder, though, because my ill-gotten goodies keep arriving here at work and LLBean sent me an email today telling me they've shipped the thing I ordered on Tuesday. What up? Yo, peeps. I've been watching The Wire, which is a great show: there are a lot of dope dealers in it and they talks real cool.
Then I had my appointment with my psychiatrist, who was knocked over by my distress (well, fan me with a brick, don't you deal with people who are upset?). My, what a change from our last appointment. Yes, yes, I can see why you'd feel that way. Again: no, you can't see why. You aren't a broken person who is no longer the person you were all your life and takes so many chemicals, each for a specific chemical purpose in your brain, someone who has to constantly think about what she says and does before doing anything. No, kind doctor, you couldn't possibly know. He's proposing a wonderful Joseph Heller situation, my own Catch-22. The drugs aren't working if I have to think about having them work. See, if they were working I wouldn't be thinking these thoughts. I dispute this, it sort of misses the point that the person I was for much of my life no longer exists (even if we didn't like her, she was still the person I was), and I'm sure I will always be aware of my behavior, outbursts, nice things, not-nice things, funny things, cruel things that make me whatever version of myself that I am, depending on what chemicals are zipping around in my head. BOTTOM LINE: Life is very complicated. Drugs don't always help. Therapy doesn't solve everything.
I'm still reading about the American stomach but have to take a break because I can't believe he's gone back to the 1700's, all these pages later. We're back to the time when 5-6 foot lobsters were common and Americans were guilty of imperialist eating, having left behind today's gurgitators.
just what's going on these days. I called Trudy at the bank because she left a message yesterday. Her news: due to the 8 $34 charges for online payments and purchases that came through before I made my deposit to cover them (which I didn't do until Tuesday, because I didn't come to town because my road wasn't plowed because Iranians are conspiring against me as part of their nucular program), I have a balance of negative $258. Well, yeah--I sure can't pull that out of my ass. I'm a pathetic 50 year old who can't even find 250 one-dollar bills. Quarters, maybe, but not dollar bills. I can sort of joke about it now, but at the time I was devastated. I met with Susan The Cold Hearted Bitch Who Controls All The Money in New York State. She was not the least bit sympathetic, empathetic, compassionate, understanding, nor did any facial muscle move during our entire exchange. Nor did she offer me a kleenex when I started to cry (although she did say, "I know" No, you don't know you stupid bitch--you work at this bank, they let you do this sort of thing). Will the things I paid online be covered? She doesn't think so. I wonder, though, because my ill-gotten goodies keep arriving here at work and LLBean sent me an email today telling me they've shipped the thing I ordered on Tuesday. What up? Yo, peeps. I've been watching The Wire, which is a great show: there are a lot of dope dealers in it and they talks real cool.
Then I had my appointment with my psychiatrist, who was knocked over by my distress (well, fan me with a brick, don't you deal with people who are upset?). My, what a change from our last appointment. Yes, yes, I can see why you'd feel that way. Again: no, you can't see why. You aren't a broken person who is no longer the person you were all your life and takes so many chemicals, each for a specific chemical purpose in your brain, someone who has to constantly think about what she says and does before doing anything. No, kind doctor, you couldn't possibly know. He's proposing a wonderful Joseph Heller situation, my own Catch-22. The drugs aren't working if I have to think about having them work. See, if they were working I wouldn't be thinking these thoughts. I dispute this, it sort of misses the point that the person I was for much of my life no longer exists (even if we didn't like her, she was still the person I was), and I'm sure I will always be aware of my behavior, outbursts, nice things, not-nice things, funny things, cruel things that make me whatever version of myself that I am, depending on what chemicals are zipping around in my head. BOTTOM LINE: Life is very complicated. Drugs don't always help. Therapy doesn't solve everything.
I'm still reading about the American stomach but have to take a break because I can't believe he's gone back to the 1700's, all these pages later. We're back to the time when 5-6 foot lobsters were common and Americans were guilty of imperialist eating, having left behind today's gurgitators.
"Rubber ball (I'll come bouncing back to you)
Bouncy bouncy"
Bobby Vee
Another day, another mood. You have my deepest sympathy for yesterday's post. I almost deleted it, decided not to. Here's the deal: I'm listening to a book--Peter Straub, no less, my first foray into his writing, and that out of desperation because there was nothing remotely, vaguely interesting on the bookmobile and it was 4:55. So I'm listening to this book and yesterday there's a description of an event, an action taken by one of the characters that sounds so appealing as a way of dealing with my problems and the way I have to deal with life. OK, that drugged me way down. My work, my day got me better. I still have those problems, I still have to work with great effort at exhibiting appropriate behavior. That is still a heavy burden for me. But I had some good interactions during the day with nice people who said nice things to me about me (positive reinforcement: to wit "Do you dogs want a bickie?" when the dachshunds came in from pretending to poop outdoors when my Skinnerian father was in charge of the dogs). Anyway, good things, successful behavior during the day.
Today, same book, description of funeral. Again, tears. This time we're reliving loss, anticipating loss, knowing what it's like to go to a funeral, go through the process, and of course the inevitable desperate loss of my brother. But effect not as profound as yesterday, not as destructive--not focused on ME, yes there are other people in the world.
So what else is going on? We had a storm, now it's cold. Two degrees this morning. I was wondering if that isn't a bit extreme for December, but then I realized: it's December! That's winter. I thought the same thing last night when I was trying to figure out which wood pile to get wood from. Save that wood for winter, when it's really cold. Hey, wait: it IS winter and it IS really cold. It's ok to use the good wood that's closer to the house. I forgot to stoke the stove before going to bed last night and the living room was 53 this morning. Luckily I was up early to start a fire, get it going like a champ so I could stoke it for the day. What a difference a wood stove makes in my house. I have electric baseboard heat (the cheapest backup heat we could get when we were in a hurry to finish the house to pay off the $13,000 we owed in capital gains taxes because of the sawmill blahblahblah) and it just can't heat the house. ANYWAY: good for me. I got the fire all set and will come home to a warm house.
My work in Saranac Lake is great. Cataloging some amazing stuff, some boring stuff, some mystery stuff. Yesterday I couldn't figure out the provenance of a book, no matter how much time I spent on it. Another book and I figured out that, of course the poet spent time in a tuberculosis san, in fact died there (oh, the tragedy of it). Then there was the collection of poems written about a boy's camp, waxing poetic about nights in the woods in 1959. Well, you have to keep them all in a unique collection like that one. So it's an interesting project and I think I'll be doing it until I retire, I'm moving at a snail's pace.
Which reminds me:
There's a terrible car accident between a turtle and a snail. Both are badly injured. A policeman comes to investigate. The only witness is a snail. Policeman questions the snail: "Can you tell me what happened?" Snail says: "I don't know officer, it all happened so fast."
I like that joke. A few years ago Henry and I shared a bunch of snail jokes . He'd call at odd times and tell me a few.
Today's (work) task: finish The history of the American stomach so I can write a review for Library Journal. It's a short book, which is strange because the author throws stuff in as if he's done a lot of scholarly research. Right now we're back to the Puritans (I thought we'd moved on when we started talking about national days of fasting during the Civil War--yeah, like the prisoners had special days of fasting) and the cleansing act of vomiting, which removes evil spirits. Author swears this is the first history of vomiting in U.S. I question that but am not sure how to verify it. Besides, if it's the first one, there's not much more than a few pages. Dissertation, anyone?
So yes, I'm better. But I'll get worse this afternoon when I see my psychiatrist. Oh how I'll suffer in front of him. Last month he told me how much better I seemed. Well knock me off my pony isn't that just the way my life works.
I also have to meet with someone at my bank because it seems I have completely screwed up my account and have spent waaaay more than I have. Gotta love those online payments. Also gotta write them down. Apparently the charges just come pouring in to the bank. Trudy called me at home yesterday and left a message imploring me to call her back. Heavy sigh. I've had this account for 24 years so I'm hoping they'll give me some sort of break, if not at least compassion.
Is this day better than the last? In terms of my being able to cope with it, absolutely. In terms of what I have to cope with? No, I don't think so. My family thinks my life is complicated. I think of it as a series of anecdotes.
Bouncy bouncy"
Bobby Vee
Another day, another mood. You have my deepest sympathy for yesterday's post. I almost deleted it, decided not to. Here's the deal: I'm listening to a book--Peter Straub, no less, my first foray into his writing, and that out of desperation because there was nothing remotely, vaguely interesting on the bookmobile and it was 4:55. So I'm listening to this book and yesterday there's a description of an event, an action taken by one of the characters that sounds so appealing as a way of dealing with my problems and the way I have to deal with life. OK, that drugged me way down. My work, my day got me better. I still have those problems, I still have to work with great effort at exhibiting appropriate behavior. That is still a heavy burden for me. But I had some good interactions during the day with nice people who said nice things to me about me (positive reinforcement: to wit "Do you dogs want a bickie?" when the dachshunds came in from pretending to poop outdoors when my Skinnerian father was in charge of the dogs). Anyway, good things, successful behavior during the day.
Today, same book, description of funeral. Again, tears. This time we're reliving loss, anticipating loss, knowing what it's like to go to a funeral, go through the process, and of course the inevitable desperate loss of my brother. But effect not as profound as yesterday, not as destructive--not focused on ME, yes there are other people in the world.
So what else is going on? We had a storm, now it's cold. Two degrees this morning. I was wondering if that isn't a bit extreme for December, but then I realized: it's December! That's winter. I thought the same thing last night when I was trying to figure out which wood pile to get wood from. Save that wood for winter, when it's really cold. Hey, wait: it IS winter and it IS really cold. It's ok to use the good wood that's closer to the house. I forgot to stoke the stove before going to bed last night and the living room was 53 this morning. Luckily I was up early to start a fire, get it going like a champ so I could stoke it for the day. What a difference a wood stove makes in my house. I have electric baseboard heat (the cheapest backup heat we could get when we were in a hurry to finish the house to pay off the $13,000 we owed in capital gains taxes because of the sawmill blahblahblah) and it just can't heat the house. ANYWAY: good for me. I got the fire all set and will come home to a warm house.
My work in Saranac Lake is great. Cataloging some amazing stuff, some boring stuff, some mystery stuff. Yesterday I couldn't figure out the provenance of a book, no matter how much time I spent on it. Another book and I figured out that, of course the poet spent time in a tuberculosis san, in fact died there (oh, the tragedy of it). Then there was the collection of poems written about a boy's camp, waxing poetic about nights in the woods in 1959. Well, you have to keep them all in a unique collection like that one. So it's an interesting project and I think I'll be doing it until I retire, I'm moving at a snail's pace.
Which reminds me:
There's a terrible car accident between a turtle and a snail. Both are badly injured. A policeman comes to investigate. The only witness is a snail. Policeman questions the snail: "Can you tell me what happened?" Snail says: "I don't know officer, it all happened so fast."
I like that joke. A few years ago Henry and I shared a bunch of snail jokes . He'd call at odd times and tell me a few.
Today's (work) task: finish The history of the American stomach so I can write a review for Library Journal. It's a short book, which is strange because the author throws stuff in as if he's done a lot of scholarly research. Right now we're back to the Puritans (I thought we'd moved on when we started talking about national days of fasting during the Civil War--yeah, like the prisoners had special days of fasting) and the cleansing act of vomiting, which removes evil spirits. Author swears this is the first history of vomiting in U.S. I question that but am not sure how to verify it. Besides, if it's the first one, there's not much more than a few pages. Dissertation, anyone?
So yes, I'm better. But I'll get worse this afternoon when I see my psychiatrist. Oh how I'll suffer in front of him. Last month he told me how much better I seemed. Well knock me off my pony isn't that just the way my life works.
I also have to meet with someone at my bank because it seems I have completely screwed up my account and have spent waaaay more than I have. Gotta love those online payments. Also gotta write them down. Apparently the charges just come pouring in to the bank. Trudy called me at home yesterday and left a message imploring me to call her back. Heavy sigh. I've had this account for 24 years so I'm hoping they'll give me some sort of break, if not at least compassion.
Is this day better than the last? In terms of my being able to cope with it, absolutely. In terms of what I have to cope with? No, I don't think so. My family thinks my life is complicated. I think of it as a series of anecdotes.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Oh no, not one of THOSE days
Watch out, everyone, she's having a bad day. Actually, my clerks are really supportive and compassionate today. Maybe it's because of the way my head was hanging down when I came in, the fact that I was 20 minutes late, and my eyes were red and swollen from crying all the way to work. I don't know what hit me (well, yes, actually I do know) but I fell apart just after I got my coffee--strange, that, since that's always a cheery experience. People know me, greet me, chat with me, want to tell me what's up with them. So I cried for the last 20 miles to work.
Anyway, I feel as if I'm working really hard to keep my behavior "appropriate." There are so many things about the way I am that I'm being treated for, and the treatments definitely work, but it's just so much work to keep track of whether or not I'm acting the way I want to. The other day I blurted out "NO YOU DIDN'T!" to a new library director, who used to be my boss, when he said they'd done a certain number of ILL's last month. I knew the numbers were way too low and I was trying to let him know that they've been counted wrong (so we all think here at CEF) for the past several years, to point out something really positive. I apologized profusely for my outburst and he was kind and gentle, saying "It's ok, you can talk to me that way, it's me, Stan." Well, no, I can't. And I thought I was beyond those outbursts. Whether they're for good reasons or bad reasons, they're inappropriate and show me that I lose control. This is the piece of behavior I'm trying so hard to correct--and it's HARD, so hard. And it's work, and I'm getting tired of working HARD and constantly focusing so intensely on my behavior. But I don't want to be the person who blurts things out at meetings, who drowns out what everyone else says, who intimidates people into staying silent, who makes people roll their eyes. We all know that person. We had a staff meeting last week and I was wonderful. People spoke who hardly ever do. I caught myself behaving well several times--but it's WORK for me to do that. I used to smoke, and I guess this is like quitting--mark each time you want to smoke and focus on how you avoided smoking that cigarette. Only this is my life we're talking about.
I know this sounds as if I feel really sorry for myself, and I don't have cancer, and I have all 4 limbs and am not in a wheelchair, and I have a loving family--but I've been struggling with this all my life. Now I know what makes me do this, and chemicals can't fix it entirely but it's more as if they help set an example of what it should be like. The other thing I do is focus on my mistakes. No, REALLY focus on them--like ones I made 30 years ago as well as ones I made yesterday. Stupid ones as well as big ones. Stupid things I said to people, stupid pieces of behavior, really stupid things I did. I know--everyone does this, but I also know that I do it far more than other people do. It's called obsessive behavior. I try to change the subject in my mind; rarely am I successful. I'd like to stop the phenomenon before I complete the film in my mind. It's as if once it starts I can't stop it--"no, no, wait, I'm not finished." I'm sure people think I'm being too hard on myself, but other people don't go over and over this sort of thing year after year. They let go of it. Ah, letting go. I just can't do that. I'm still going over things about my ex-husband and my marriage that ended in 1995. Let it go, let it go. Lots of times I think it's because I don't have anything important enough in my life to replace this fixation, but then I think that my life should be enough to do that. Then I think, well, he's always in the news, his picture's in the paper, he's on TV, I see him at family gatherings (along with his wife, who seems to be everywhere I am at these things). I can't get away from him. And I remind myself that he's not the same person, any more than I am, so I don't even know who I should think about when I think of him. So LET IT GO. I have good feelings toward him, good memories (sometimes) but I also have a lot of resentment about that relationship and marriage.
OK, if anyone's made it this far--relax, being here at work has made me feel better. Distractions are the answer. That's why I watch so much television--it distracts me, fills my head with images and activities unrelated to what might go on in there otherwise. I replace the music in my head with real music for the same reason. That music in my head is back, really back and is just horrible. ANYWAY, I'm ok. I listen to books when I drive, sometimes I find good ones I can actually pay attention to. There are plenty of things I enjoy. I put up lights on an outdoor tree on Sunday, which was complicated and funny and made me laugh at myself but was finally successful. I strung them nicely but the foot of snow we got knocked them down, so now I have a giant white light smile in my tree. Not the effect I had in mind.
My dogs are a lot of fun to have, are predictable and love me. They entertain me and require something of me. My house is very demanding and I'm constantly letting it down. My car is a mess and needs money. I'm living beyond my means. I also have a good job with a great retirement benefit, and during those times when I can believe in the future I think about retiring 7 years from now. In the meantime I like my job. I like working with the member library directors. The other people, well, I've worked with them for decades.
This afternoon I go to Saranac Lake to work on their Adk Coll. I spend a lot of time trying to figure out why the books are pertinent to Saranac Lake, tuberculosis, the Adirondacks, Robert Louis Stevenson, or anything else I can come up with. That slows me down but entertains me. It's a lifetime project.
Watch out, everyone, she's having a bad day. Actually, my clerks are really supportive and compassionate today. Maybe it's because of the way my head was hanging down when I came in, the fact that I was 20 minutes late, and my eyes were red and swollen from crying all the way to work. I don't know what hit me (well, yes, actually I do know) but I fell apart just after I got my coffee--strange, that, since that's always a cheery experience. People know me, greet me, chat with me, want to tell me what's up with them. So I cried for the last 20 miles to work.
Anyway, I feel as if I'm working really hard to keep my behavior "appropriate." There are so many things about the way I am that I'm being treated for, and the treatments definitely work, but it's just so much work to keep track of whether or not I'm acting the way I want to. The other day I blurted out "NO YOU DIDN'T!" to a new library director, who used to be my boss, when he said they'd done a certain number of ILL's last month. I knew the numbers were way too low and I was trying to let him know that they've been counted wrong (so we all think here at CEF) for the past several years, to point out something really positive. I apologized profusely for my outburst and he was kind and gentle, saying "It's ok, you can talk to me that way, it's me, Stan." Well, no, I can't. And I thought I was beyond those outbursts. Whether they're for good reasons or bad reasons, they're inappropriate and show me that I lose control. This is the piece of behavior I'm trying so hard to correct--and it's HARD, so hard. And it's work, and I'm getting tired of working HARD and constantly focusing so intensely on my behavior. But I don't want to be the person who blurts things out at meetings, who drowns out what everyone else says, who intimidates people into staying silent, who makes people roll their eyes. We all know that person. We had a staff meeting last week and I was wonderful. People spoke who hardly ever do. I caught myself behaving well several times--but it's WORK for me to do that. I used to smoke, and I guess this is like quitting--mark each time you want to smoke and focus on how you avoided smoking that cigarette. Only this is my life we're talking about.
I know this sounds as if I feel really sorry for myself, and I don't have cancer, and I have all 4 limbs and am not in a wheelchair, and I have a loving family--but I've been struggling with this all my life. Now I know what makes me do this, and chemicals can't fix it entirely but it's more as if they help set an example of what it should be like. The other thing I do is focus on my mistakes. No, REALLY focus on them--like ones I made 30 years ago as well as ones I made yesterday. Stupid ones as well as big ones. Stupid things I said to people, stupid pieces of behavior, really stupid things I did. I know--everyone does this, but I also know that I do it far more than other people do. It's called obsessive behavior. I try to change the subject in my mind; rarely am I successful. I'd like to stop the phenomenon before I complete the film in my mind. It's as if once it starts I can't stop it--"no, no, wait, I'm not finished." I'm sure people think I'm being too hard on myself, but other people don't go over and over this sort of thing year after year. They let go of it. Ah, letting go. I just can't do that. I'm still going over things about my ex-husband and my marriage that ended in 1995. Let it go, let it go. Lots of times I think it's because I don't have anything important enough in my life to replace this fixation, but then I think that my life should be enough to do that. Then I think, well, he's always in the news, his picture's in the paper, he's on TV, I see him at family gatherings (along with his wife, who seems to be everywhere I am at these things). I can't get away from him. And I remind myself that he's not the same person, any more than I am, so I don't even know who I should think about when I think of him. So LET IT GO. I have good feelings toward him, good memories (sometimes) but I also have a lot of resentment about that relationship and marriage.
OK, if anyone's made it this far--relax, being here at work has made me feel better. Distractions are the answer. That's why I watch so much television--it distracts me, fills my head with images and activities unrelated to what might go on in there otherwise. I replace the music in my head with real music for the same reason. That music in my head is back, really back and is just horrible. ANYWAY, I'm ok. I listen to books when I drive, sometimes I find good ones I can actually pay attention to. There are plenty of things I enjoy. I put up lights on an outdoor tree on Sunday, which was complicated and funny and made me laugh at myself but was finally successful. I strung them nicely but the foot of snow we got knocked them down, so now I have a giant white light smile in my tree. Not the effect I had in mind.
My dogs are a lot of fun to have, are predictable and love me. They entertain me and require something of me. My house is very demanding and I'm constantly letting it down. My car is a mess and needs money. I'm living beyond my means. I also have a good job with a great retirement benefit, and during those times when I can believe in the future I think about retiring 7 years from now. In the meantime I like my job. I like working with the member library directors. The other people, well, I've worked with them for decades.
This afternoon I go to Saranac Lake to work on their Adk Coll. I spend a lot of time trying to figure out why the books are pertinent to Saranac Lake, tuberculosis, the Adirondacks, Robert Louis Stevenson, or anything else I can come up with. That slows me down but entertains me. It's a lifetime project.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Chances and kittie found temporary peace. I'm not sure either of them realized the other was there, or that they were actually touching each other. This was a very strange, unique moment.
Day off yesterday--big storm hit the North Country. We were supposed to get, oh I don't know, 85 inches of snow or something dramatic like that. The library system was closed--decision made by Librarian in Charge (there are 4 of us who rotate being in charge when the Director is out). The director was at home, just having a day off, so she could have made the decision but did not. Anyway, we had a lot of ice first, then a lot of heavy wet snow so I was happy not to have to get to Plattsburgh. The roads were reported to be very bad. In Hawkeye we got about 8-10" I guess (who measures anymore?). I tried cleaning off my car in the afternoon but there was a layer of ice coating the whole thing, especially the windows, so all I could do was make a peekaboo hole in the windshield for today's drive. What a mess.
I spent the entire day, minus 1 1/2 hours, watching The Closer on TV. By rights I should have bedsores on my butt. Anyway, it was a pretty good day. The dogs and cat certainly enjoyed it. It was too hot in the living room at one point, which I thought was pretty funny.
Day off yesterday--big storm hit the North Country. We were supposed to get, oh I don't know, 85 inches of snow or something dramatic like that. The library system was closed--decision made by Librarian in Charge (there are 4 of us who rotate being in charge when the Director is out). The director was at home, just having a day off, so she could have made the decision but did not. Anyway, we had a lot of ice first, then a lot of heavy wet snow so I was happy not to have to get to Plattsburgh. The roads were reported to be very bad. In Hawkeye we got about 8-10" I guess (who measures anymore?). I tried cleaning off my car in the afternoon but there was a layer of ice coating the whole thing, especially the windows, so all I could do was make a peekaboo hole in the windshield for today's drive. What a mess.
I spent the entire day, minus 1 1/2 hours, watching The Closer on TV. By rights I should have bedsores on my butt. Anyway, it was a pretty good day. The dogs and cat certainly enjoyed it. It was too hot in the living room at one point, which I thought was pretty funny.
Exhausting peace talks
Tess wouldn't go as far as Chances--or maybe kittie wouldn't go as far around Tess, but everyone seemed pretty relaxed. For the time being. Kittie still likes to nail the dogs when she thinks they're behaving inappropriately. Like trying to come between kittie and me. Some days I smack her on the butt a lot. Of course, they smash her flat when she gets in their way and they're hurrying somewhere, like going inside, outside, or to their food. It's a fine, fine line we're walking.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
chases
This is a Dump Day trip. Here's where it starts: at Chase's in Redford. This is where I get my coffee and my gas. They know me there and tell me the morning before I get my free coffee that tomorrow I'll get my free cup: after you buy 6 cups you get one free. Plenty of people think I should stop buying my coffee there and put the $1.44 a day into a fund to have a well drilled. Yes, but who would ask me how I am first thing in the morning? And who would I ask what kind of day they're having? And where would I pick up the morning news? Those things alone are worth $1.44, aren't they?
dump
My dump. I have a wicked bad case of dump envy. My Wilmington friends have a way better time at their dump than I do. Mine's a Transfer Station, where you put your garbage in a compactor and it gets smushed. Recycle bins on left, compactor on right. No time for visiting. Pay $1.50 per sticker. Small bags need 1 sticker, large bags need 2. Thank you very much.
forsale
I love this sign. For some reason it makes me laugh. Yeah, island for sale all right, get your red-hot island he-ah.
And here it is: the island for sale. Rumored sale price: $1.5 million. There are some buildings on the island, which used to be wonderful but are now pretty run down, according to neighborhood sources. Electricity runs underwater. Where would you moor your boat on the mainland? Details that must be worked out. How would you get there when the ice is in-between going out and being thick enough to ride a snow sled on? Or would you ever go there in the winter? Who would ever insure it? Lots of luck finding someone to pay that kind of money for it.
sweethome
Typical North Country home--NOT. This house was originally built as just the right side of the building. It sold for $375,000. Many of my friends were interested in buying it when it was on the market, but ran from the price. It's across from the Silver Lake Mtn bluffs, so has a wonderful view. Some people did buy it, lived there for a while, but their son died of a drug overdose, so they sold it. The new people decided it wasn't quite big enough so they added the whole left side. Now I ask you, what is that all about?
mudpond
View of Silver Lake Mountain with Mud Pond in the foreground. There must be at least 50 Mud Ponds in the Adirondacks.
swastika
Looking down the hill from Lin's road to the turn (on the right) to Swastika. Swastika is a neighborhood more than anything else. Nothing there but a four corners (actually, a 3 corners) and some houses. No one knows why it's called Swastika--there's no natural or man-made formation in that shape. Ah, sweet mysteries of life.
barn
A red barn in front of the back bluffs of Silver Lake Mountain. There are a bunch of Dupreys living along this stretch of road--grandfather, father and sons. House, house, house. One of the best views in the neighborhood, for sure.
brrr
Looking up the lake, a totally different view than we get from our camp. That's the bluffs, that hump in the foreground. What we called "Rock's Point" to the left--a really nice rocky point that my Uncle Rock owned. We had great cookouts there, going over by boat, packing all the cooking gear and food into a couple of boats and crossing the lake. Coming home with flashlights guiding our way, making sure we had left a light on in one of the lakeside cabins so we'd know what to head toward. It has just about the best swimming on the lake, as there's a huge drop-off just off shore. Goes down way deep really fast. Love that kind of swimming.
trailsend2
Looking across at Linda's camp. It's nestled among the cedars right about in the middle of the shoreline, can't see the camp. Yes, those mountains are snow-covered. Still are.
I can't stop jiggling my feet but if I take more Ritalin sometimes it backfires and I practically bounce right out of my chair. ohmyohmyohmy what to do. Drink more coffee, yeah I'm sure that will help will help will help.
I have a lot of pictures to post, including one of an emu I took at Thanksgiving. Ah, you're all waiting with bated breath. Me too. Not to mention the picture of my dump. Stop, please stop, the suspense is killing me.
I have a lot of pictures to post, including one of an emu I took at Thanksgiving. Ah, you're all waiting with bated breath. Me too. Not to mention the picture of my dump. Stop, please stop, the suspense is killing me.
Friday, November 16, 2007
"There's nothing wrong with your heart"
is what my doctor said to me yesterday. Ever doubtful, I told him that I'd believe him when I turned 84. I had a cardio-catheterization on Monday, having consulted with my newest specialist, a cardiologist, last week. The cath. is more complicated than I expected--they make a hole in your femoral artery to stick the catheter in & from there it travels to your heart, where they shoot dye into the arteries surrounding your heart. I have no blockages and my heart (so they say) is fine. Anyway, they plug up the hole in your femoral artery with a collagen plug, and the trick is to keep that plug from popping out. This means you have to GRAB YOUR GROIN, as the nurses remind you during the minimum of 4 hours you have to stay lying down after the procedure. Any time you get up, cough, sneeze (try not to), think hard, sit down--whatever, you have to grab your groin. It's actually not hard to develop the habit, since it hurts where they poked a big hole. Anyway, I stayed home Tuesday, holding onto my groin so I wouldn't pop the cork and bleed to death, which was what they warned me about. Back to work on Weds., which wasn't such a great idea but the nurses and my friend Annie the doctor made me think it was the sissy thing to do to take 2 days off. Note to friends: take 2 days, it'll make you feel better.
I mustered all my courage and asked Marylou if she would be my chaperone, drive me to Plattsburgh, wait for me, then drive me home. This seems like an incredible imposition to me but she was totally generous and gracious about it. We had a really nice visits during drive time. Plus she got extra credit for knowing that my mother would so much like to hear right away that everything was ok as soon as M. heard that my procedure was over. Sooooo nice of her to call Liza. And Lin agreed to stay at my house if I had a blockage and had to spend the night at the hospital. What good friends I have. They're really supportive and generous.
So now I'm at work, trying to feel relieved but having trouble keeping myself from crying whenever I think about all of this. I think a whole lot about my brother. If he'd had these tests, would he still be alive? Anyway, he's dead and it's always a shock for me to realize that and I miss him incredibly much. He was my brother and was important to me for 50 years. Also I cry, I think because I was really afraid during all of this heart stuff. I'd been having chest pains which started when I started taking a new med--one of the side effects is muscle spasms, so of course I assumed I would have a massive coronary at any moment, but the med. was so effective that I hated to give it up. Anyway, I've been afraid for a month or so. Now: no chest pains and I should feel relieved and happy. Not crying. I guess I just got tired of being the brave single girl who can handle all her own problems. I didn't tell many people about this--heard a lot from Ken this week about that, he was really upset at not knowing. Didn't want anyone to know, but had to tell some people in case something went wrong. Now I can put it all BEHIND ME. And move on.
Moving on through the snow. Not much at my house, only half an inch or so. But it's cold. Only in the 30's this weekend. I have bulbs to plant--they just came this week. The ground was frozen but then it rained so I think I can dig deep enough to plant them. I was off on Friday and had hoped to do it but night time temp was 11 so ground was hard. Had my stove cleaned, which didn't take long because nothing was very dirty. For a change. Yay me, burning good wood. Am looking forward to having a good fire tonight, haven't had one this week because am not supposed to pick up anything more than 10 lbs. Plus am lazy about carrying in wood from cold outdoors to house. But tonight will force myself to, so I can have cozy fire for weekend lounging.
Made poor kitty go outside today. Am trying to remind her that she's an outdoor cat. When I left she was on the deck, glowering at me. If looks could kill-- She's doing well but Tess would really like to play with her. All kitty wants to do is rub against Tess' head and chest, which Tess completely does not understand. Chances has written the whole cat thing off as an unsolvable mystery. Just a black blob anyway.
Had Sunday dinner at my house last week. Bill requested salmon cooked in my Schlemmertopf. Anybody know what that is? A clay cooker. Soak the top for half an hour, put salmon in bottom with some stuff & cook in oven for an hour. Bill swears it's the best salmon there is and requests it most times I offer to have dinner at my house (less and less often). Horrible brother of Bill came because he was visiting Ken from Penn. and Ken left note telling him where they were. Son Karl is very unpopular in our neighborhood so I was really not thrilled to have him in my house. Of course he had to comment on the water stains on my living room ceiling, caused by snow backing up from the ice dam I have each winter. He knew how to solve that problem--a solution that might work in suburbia, but not in the North Country, no not at all. Turd monkey.
Book group this weekend. Yay. We're reading One thousand white women Good book, bet everyone liked it. I haven't quite finished it. Have several books to read once I finish it. Ann Sebold's new book just came in--she wrote Lovely bones. Also have Richard Russo's latest. Plus Richard Ford's, but his is loooooong. And something else I started but got distracted from. There's nowhere near enough time to read these. I like to get up around 5:30 on weekends, sit in the living room drinking coffee, reading and enjoying the quiet. Dogs go outside, grooving on the darkness and coming light. Cat purrs next to me on the couch. Dogs come in. Dogs go out. Dogs are incredibly happy. All is right with the world. It gets light very slowly and the day really begins. It's such a nice experience.
Nothing much going on this weekend. Need to go to the dump. Need to clear off deck (still? haven't done that yet? for god's sake girl, what's up with you?). Plant bulbs. Write some people. Start getting organized for trip to RI next week. Be stunned that Thanksgiving is coming.
Half an hour to go, then 4 stops before heading home. Listening to a book I'm enjoying about young Korean-American women in NYC. Not great literature but vaguely interesting. Really not great reader but I can stand it anyway.
is what my doctor said to me yesterday. Ever doubtful, I told him that I'd believe him when I turned 84. I had a cardio-catheterization on Monday, having consulted with my newest specialist, a cardiologist, last week. The cath. is more complicated than I expected--they make a hole in your femoral artery to stick the catheter in & from there it travels to your heart, where they shoot dye into the arteries surrounding your heart. I have no blockages and my heart (so they say) is fine. Anyway, they plug up the hole in your femoral artery with a collagen plug, and the trick is to keep that plug from popping out. This means you have to GRAB YOUR GROIN, as the nurses remind you during the minimum of 4 hours you have to stay lying down after the procedure. Any time you get up, cough, sneeze (try not to), think hard, sit down--whatever, you have to grab your groin. It's actually not hard to develop the habit, since it hurts where they poked a big hole. Anyway, I stayed home Tuesday, holding onto my groin so I wouldn't pop the cork and bleed to death, which was what they warned me about. Back to work on Weds., which wasn't such a great idea but the nurses and my friend Annie the doctor made me think it was the sissy thing to do to take 2 days off. Note to friends: take 2 days, it'll make you feel better.
I mustered all my courage and asked Marylou if she would be my chaperone, drive me to Plattsburgh, wait for me, then drive me home. This seems like an incredible imposition to me but she was totally generous and gracious about it. We had a really nice visits during drive time. Plus she got extra credit for knowing that my mother would so much like to hear right away that everything was ok as soon as M. heard that my procedure was over. Sooooo nice of her to call Liza. And Lin agreed to stay at my house if I had a blockage and had to spend the night at the hospital. What good friends I have. They're really supportive and generous.
So now I'm at work, trying to feel relieved but having trouble keeping myself from crying whenever I think about all of this. I think a whole lot about my brother. If he'd had these tests, would he still be alive? Anyway, he's dead and it's always a shock for me to realize that and I miss him incredibly much. He was my brother and was important to me for 50 years. Also I cry, I think because I was really afraid during all of this heart stuff. I'd been having chest pains which started when I started taking a new med--one of the side effects is muscle spasms, so of course I assumed I would have a massive coronary at any moment, but the med. was so effective that I hated to give it up. Anyway, I've been afraid for a month or so. Now: no chest pains and I should feel relieved and happy. Not crying. I guess I just got tired of being the brave single girl who can handle all her own problems. I didn't tell many people about this--heard a lot from Ken this week about that, he was really upset at not knowing. Didn't want anyone to know, but had to tell some people in case something went wrong. Now I can put it all BEHIND ME. And move on.
Moving on through the snow. Not much at my house, only half an inch or so. But it's cold. Only in the 30's this weekend. I have bulbs to plant--they just came this week. The ground was frozen but then it rained so I think I can dig deep enough to plant them. I was off on Friday and had hoped to do it but night time temp was 11 so ground was hard. Had my stove cleaned, which didn't take long because nothing was very dirty. For a change. Yay me, burning good wood. Am looking forward to having a good fire tonight, haven't had one this week because am not supposed to pick up anything more than 10 lbs. Plus am lazy about carrying in wood from cold outdoors to house. But tonight will force myself to, so I can have cozy fire for weekend lounging.
Made poor kitty go outside today. Am trying to remind her that she's an outdoor cat. When I left she was on the deck, glowering at me. If looks could kill-- She's doing well but Tess would really like to play with her. All kitty wants to do is rub against Tess' head and chest, which Tess completely does not understand. Chances has written the whole cat thing off as an unsolvable mystery. Just a black blob anyway.
Had Sunday dinner at my house last week. Bill requested salmon cooked in my Schlemmertopf. Anybody know what that is? A clay cooker. Soak the top for half an hour, put salmon in bottom with some stuff & cook in oven for an hour. Bill swears it's the best salmon there is and requests it most times I offer to have dinner at my house (less and less often). Horrible brother of Bill came because he was visiting Ken from Penn. and Ken left note telling him where they were. Son Karl is very unpopular in our neighborhood so I was really not thrilled to have him in my house. Of course he had to comment on the water stains on my living room ceiling, caused by snow backing up from the ice dam I have each winter. He knew how to solve that problem--a solution that might work in suburbia, but not in the North Country, no not at all. Turd monkey.
Book group this weekend. Yay. We're reading One thousand white women Good book, bet everyone liked it. I haven't quite finished it. Have several books to read once I finish it. Ann Sebold's new book just came in--she wrote Lovely bones. Also have Richard Russo's latest. Plus Richard Ford's, but his is loooooong. And something else I started but got distracted from. There's nowhere near enough time to read these. I like to get up around 5:30 on weekends, sit in the living room drinking coffee, reading and enjoying the quiet. Dogs go outside, grooving on the darkness and coming light. Cat purrs next to me on the couch. Dogs come in. Dogs go out. Dogs are incredibly happy. All is right with the world. It gets light very slowly and the day really begins. It's such a nice experience.
Nothing much going on this weekend. Need to go to the dump. Need to clear off deck (still? haven't done that yet? for god's sake girl, what's up with you?). Plant bulbs. Write some people. Start getting organized for trip to RI next week. Be stunned that Thanksgiving is coming.
Half an hour to go, then 4 stops before heading home. Listening to a book I'm enjoying about young Korean-American women in NYC. Not great literature but vaguely interesting. Really not great reader but I can stand it anyway.
Monday, November 05, 2007
frosty
Saturday morning. Heavy frost on car windows. I didn't go anywhere so I didn't have to scrape them. I didn't do much on Saturday, although it was a perfect day to do outdoor chores. I was out for a bit, splitting kindling and bringing in firewood. I kept the fire going all day; the house was 56 when I got up. It warmed up a lot because of the sunshine so there wasn't much of a fire, just a log or two now and then.
I called my last year's plow man and he'll plow again this year. I told him the boulders had been moved and he was pleased. He's a really, really nice man and a great person to have for a neighbor (neighbor in the sense that he lives less than 10 miles away).
Sat. night I was clever and proud to set my bedroom clocks back before going to sleep. I knew I'd remember to set the clocks in the living room when I got up. Or not. I got up really early and was wallowing in the hours I had before Sunday dinner--looked at the clock by the TV and BAM! it was already ten to 8. Man those hours went fast! Watch said the same thing. Can you believe that, at my age I forgot that we set our clocks back? I forgot about it for around 5 minutes, then it dawned on me that it was really 10 before 7. YAHOO! Had to set clock on max/min indoor/outdoor thermomether; telephone; clock by TV; watch. Do not set microwave or stove--power goes out too often to mess with those. In fact, we lost power for 6 hours the other day (which means I had just set the time on all electric clocks last week. oh how I suffer, don't I).
I called my last year's plow man and he'll plow again this year. I told him the boulders had been moved and he was pleased. He's a really, really nice man and a great person to have for a neighbor (neighbor in the sense that he lives less than 10 miles away).
Sat. night I was clever and proud to set my bedroom clocks back before going to sleep. I knew I'd remember to set the clocks in the living room when I got up. Or not. I got up really early and was wallowing in the hours I had before Sunday dinner--looked at the clock by the TV and BAM! it was already ten to 8. Man those hours went fast! Watch said the same thing. Can you believe that, at my age I forgot that we set our clocks back? I forgot about it for around 5 minutes, then it dawned on me that it was really 10 before 7. YAHOO! Had to set clock on max/min indoor/outdoor thermomether; telephone; clock by TV; watch. Do not set microwave or stove--power goes out too often to mess with those. In fact, we lost power for 6 hours the other day (which means I had just set the time on all electric clocks last week. oh how I suffer, don't I).
weekend sunrise
Not really exceptionally pretty, but the leaves are gone so sunrises are more visible now.
dead geranium
Geraniums do not survive a heavy frost. Light frosts, maybe, but not one that freezes the juice in the stems. This is what happened while I was trying to decide whether to bring these in to winter over or not. You know, “Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans," said John Lennon. I was pretty much relieved of making this decision, although these geraniums were all different colors. Now I just have the red one from 2006 that Fred gave me that was so pretty this year. He gave me his huge pink ivy geranium that spent the summer on his dock. It's covered with blossoms now and is really pretty. I brought it to work, where I plan to have it spend the winter (and where it will look really ratty soon) because I don't have enough room at home. When it finishes blooming I'll cut it way back and everyone will comment on the fact that I killed it.
hopeful
For some reason the alyssum refuses to stop blooming, and is even thriving. I never used to get alyssum--was scornful of it because it's really just a ground cover. Now I use it all the time, tuck it in my pots. It smells wonderful as you walk past it, and looks really pretty (apparently) when it's all that's in the pot. I can't believe this is doing so well--it's been down to 22 a couple of nights. I have to empty the pots, though, or they'll break. There's moisture enough in the terra cotta so it will crack if it's left out over the winter. Now there's a lesson I learned the hard way. But not just once--oh no, I needed to be convinced it could happen to any pot, any winter.
Monday, October 29, 2007
nice urn
She's not really fat, or angry. I think most cats end up this shape anyway. Those are her hind legs, not her stomach. She's still skinny and lithe and I'm doing my best to keep her that way. I've declared from the beginning that I won't have a fat indoor cat. Or one who poops indoors. So far so good.
The peace treaty has been signed and so far all is going well. Last night all 4 of us were sharing the couch. At first Tess refused to get on the couch as long as the cat was on it, and Chances would only be on it if she could lean on me. Finally everyone was just so tired they all curled up and went to sleep, dogs at one end and cat at the other. Boy does that cat purr a lot. Every once in a while she stops, then it's as if she suddenly remembers to and starts right up again. She brought her bedroom furniture and suitcases downstairs yesterday and moved right in. She still likes to sit above the living room, where she can spy on us: it's just that she now feels perhaps the downstairs is a better place to spend time. Closer to the food.
The peace treaty has been signed and so far all is going well. Last night all 4 of us were sharing the couch. At first Tess refused to get on the couch as long as the cat was on it, and Chances would only be on it if she could lean on me. Finally everyone was just so tired they all curled up and went to sleep, dogs at one end and cat at the other. Boy does that cat purr a lot. Every once in a while she stops, then it's as if she suddenly remembers to and starts right up again. She brought her bedroom furniture and suitcases downstairs yesterday and moved right in. She still likes to sit above the living room, where she can spy on us: it's just that she now feels perhaps the downstairs is a better place to spend time. Closer to the food.
tail
This is the sort of thing you expect to see attached to a car antenna around here. Cat tails are just so strange.
squinty
It's not that I think this cat is so incredibly cute or pretty: it's just something different to take pictures of.
view
This is the view from my bedroom window these days. The window is huge--it takes up pretty much the top four feet of the wall, and the whole side. That's why I like to sleep downstairs in this bedroom. The view from upstairs is pretty, too, but the windows are higher so you don't get the view when you lie in bed.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
still colorful
This is the end of fall color at Silver Lake. It's really, really pretty. Just the poplars are left--the green is the conifers. I went to camp on Sunday afternoon to close up the boathouse. Can you believe I waited this long? I usually wait until it's really cold and I have to wear a jacket. This year, it was 70 and sunny and a wonderful day. It doesn't take long to do, maybe an hour--clean the kitchen part, empty the fridge, put towels & blankets away, move furniture inside, put stuff away, remove dirty dishes--DON'T FORGET TO DO THIS, the way I did last year.
Anyway, I had a good time sitting on the porch looking at the color. I like this last hurrah.
Anyway, I had a good time sitting on the porch looking at the color. I like this last hurrah.
last chance
The last look of the fall, very pretty but ok to let go of. I had a really nice time, sitting on the porch staring into space for a very long time. Bare feet, t-shirt--in mid October! It was really great.
last look
This has a funny quality to it, taken through the screen next to the Saranac chair. It's looking up the lake, along Molly's shoreline. The water and sky really have an October quality.
a mouthful
I couldn't capture the real Retrieving Tess. She's orally obsessed, like a true retriever. She has certain movements, a way of walking, holding her head and cocking her ears that accompany carrying things in her mouth. Hard to capture on film.
Something to look forward to
Every few years my elementary/junior high/high school friends get together for a long weekend. Last time there were 18 of us and we stayed at condos in Vail. This year we're renting a house near Wisconsin Dells. Check it out:
HomeAway Wisconsin Dells vacation lodge rental
Those Midwestern girls know how to do their homework!
Every few years my elementary/junior high/high school friends get together for a long weekend. Last time there were 18 of us and we stayed at condos in Vail. This year we're renting a house near Wisconsin Dells. Check it out:
HomeAway Wisconsin Dells vacation lodge rental
Those Midwestern girls know how to do their homework!
Monday, October 22, 2007
Libraries Shun Deals to Place Books on Web
Ann Johansson for The New York Times
Workers scan books for the Internet Archive. Its founder conceived the Open Content Alliance to distribute library books online.
Several major research libraries have rebuffed offers from Google and Microsoft to scan their books into computer databases, saying they are put off by restrictions these companies want to place on the new digital collections.
The research libraries, including a large consortium in the Boston area, are instead signing on with the Open Content Alliance, a nonprofit effort aimed at making their materials broadly available.
Libraries that agree to work with Google must agree to a set of terms, which include making the material unavailable to other commercial search services. Microsoft places a similar restriction on the books it converts to electronic form. The Open Content Alliance, by contrast, is making the material available to any search service.
Google pays to scan the books and does not directly profit from the resulting Web pages, although the books make its search engine more useful and more valuable. The libraries can have their books scanned again by another company or organization for dissemination more broadly.
It costs the Open Content Alliance as much as $30 to scan each book, a cost shared by the group’s members and benefactors, so there are obvious financial benefits to libraries of Google’s wide-ranging offer, started in 2004.
Many prominent libraries have accepted Google’s offer — including the New York Public Library and libraries at the University of Michigan, Harvard, Stanford and Oxford. Google expects to scan 15 million books from those collections over the next decade.
But the resistance from some libraries, like the Boston Public Library and the Smithsonian Institution, suggests that many in the academic and nonprofit world are intent on pursuing a vision of the Web as a global repository of knowledge that is free of business interests or restrictions.
Even though Google’s program could make millions of books available to hundreds of millions of Internet users for the first time, some libraries and researchers worry that if any one company comes to dominate the digital conversion of these works, it could exploit that dominance for commercial gain.
“There are two opposed pathways being mapped out,” said Paul Duguid, an adjunct professor at the School of Information at the University of California, Berkeley. “One is shaped by commercial concerns, the other by a commitment to openness, and which one will win is not clear.”
Last month, the Boston Library Consortium of 19 research and academic libraries in New England that includes the University of Connecticut and the University of Massachusetts, said it would work with the Open Content Alliance to begin digitizing the books among the libraries’ 34 million volumes whose copyright had expired.
“We understand the commercial value of what Google is doing, but we want to be able to distribute materials in a way where everyone benefits from it,” said Bernard A. Margolis, president of the Boston Public Library, which has in its collection roughly 3,700 volumes from the personal library of John Adams.
Mr. Margolis said his library had spoken with both Google and Microsoft, and had not shut the door entirely on the idea of working with them. And several libraries are working with both Google and the Open Content Alliance.
Adam Smith, project management director of Google Book Search, noted that the company’s deals with libraries were not exclusive. “We’re excited that the O.C.A. has signed more libraries, and we hope they sign many more,” Mr. Smith said.
“The powerful motivation is that we’re bringing more offline information online,” he said. “As a commercial company, we have the resources to do this, and we’re doing it in a way that benefits users, publishers, authors and libraries. And it benefits us because we provide an improved user experience, which then means users will come back to Google.”
The Library of Congress has a pilot program with Google to digitize some books. But in January, it announced a project with a more inclusive approach. With $2 million from the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation, the library’s first mass digitization effort will make 136,000 books accessible to any search engine through the Open Content Alliance. The library declined to comment on its future digitization plans.
The Open Content Alliance is the brainchild of Brewster Kahle, the founder and director of the Internet Archive, which was created in 1996 with the aim of preserving copies of Web sites and other material. The group includes more than 80 libraries and research institutions, including the Smithsonian Institution.
Although Google is making public-domain books readily available to individuals who wish to download them, Mr. Kahle and others worry about the possible implications of having one company store and distribute so much public-domain content.
“Scanning the great libraries is a wonderful idea, but if only one corporation controls access to this digital collection, we’ll have handed too much control to a private entity,” Mr. Kahle said.
The Open Content Alliance, he said, “is fundamentally different, coming from a community project to build joint collections that can be used by everyone in different ways.”
Mr. Kahle’s group focuses on out-of-copyright books, mostly those published in 1922 or earlier. Google scans copyrighted works as well, but it does not allow users to read the full text of those books online, and it allows publishers to opt out of the program.
Microsoft joined the Open Content Alliance at its start in 2005, as did Yahoo, which also has a book search project. Google also spoke with Mr. Kahle about joining the group, but they did not reach an agreement.
A year after joining, Microsoft added a restriction that prohibits a book it has digitized from being included in commercial search engines other than Microsoft’s.
“Unlike Google, there are no restrictions on the distribution of these copies for academic purposes across institutions,” said Jay Girotto, group program manager for Live Book Search from Microsoft. Institutions working with Microsoft, he said, include the University of California and the New York Public Library.
Some in the research field view the issue as a matter of principle.
Doron Weber, a program director at the Sloan Foundation, which has made several grants to libraries for digital conversion of books, said that several institutions approached by Google have spoken to his organization about their reservations. “Many are hedging their bets,” he said, “taking Google money for now while realizing this is, at best, a short-term bridge to a truly open universal library of the future.”
The University of Michigan, a Google partner since 2004, does not seem to share this view. “We have not felt particularly restricted by our agreement with Google,” said Jack Bernard, a lawyer at the university.
The University of California, which started scanning books with the Open Content Alliance, Microsoft and Yahoo in 2005, has added Google. Robin Chandler, director of data acquisitions at the University of California’s digital library project, said working with everyone helps increase the volume of the scanning.
Some have found Google to be inflexible in its terms. Tom Garnett, director of the Biodiversity Heritage Library, a group of 10 prominent natural history and botanical libraries that have agreed to digitize their collections, said he had had discussions with various people at both Google and Microsoft.
“Google had a very restrictive agreement, and in all our discussions they were unwilling to yield,” he said. Among the terms was a requirement that libraries put their own technology in place to block commercial search services other than Google, he said.
Libraries that sign with the Open Content Alliance are obligated to pay the cost of scanning the books. Several have received grants from organizations like the Sloan Foundation.
The Boston Library Consortium’s project is self-funded, with $845,000 for the next two years. The consortium pays 10 cents a page to the Internet Archive, which has installed 10 scanners at the Boston Public LibraryOther members include the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Brown University.
The scans are stored at the Internet Archive in San Francisco and are available through its Web site. Search companies including Google are free to point users to the material.
On Wednesday the Internet Archive announced, together with the Boston Public Library and the library of the Marine Biological Laboratory and Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, that it would start scanning out-of-print but in-copyright works to be distributed through a digital interlibrary loan system.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Just keeping in touch
A quick entry before a book repair workshop I have to/am obligated to go to this morning from 9-12. Former director, the one who hired me in 1984, is doing the workshop. I'm forcing one of my clerks to go and she's all over it with resentment, but for some reason today is much more reasonable and amenable to the idea, realizes we have to go to support this man. This man has just been appointed director of the Platts. Pub. Library--at age 79. That library is next door to us and is our Central Library, so we channel more than $100,000 to them to offer extra services to our member libraries, hence we work very, very closely with them. No one in the whole world of North Country libraries can figure out a)why he wants this job and b)why they hired him. At least he's a very, very nice man. And he understands that the System matters.
Dinner with Fred last night. He was returning to Platts. after spending the afternoon closing his camp, saw me driving home, turned around and followed me until I finally noticed he was behind me. Flashed his lights, tried to get me to pull over, finally passed me and got me to stop so he could suggest we hit the diner for dinner. "We have to catch up." We turned around and drove the 10 or so miles back to Jingles, had diner food and caught up. He just spent 3 days in Quebec City, looking for a condo for his friend the millionairess to buy for her 3rd home. I needed to hear all the details, especially culinary experiences. Two dinners at good restaurants cost $500. Can't say "Canadian" as if it matters any more, now that our dollars match their loonies. Anyway, I love being with Fred and we had a great time. When I say things like "I have to spend time with Ken," or "I had to listen to this lady tell me her life story when I got coffee the other day" he ALWAYS tells me I don't have to, no one is making me. I finally told him that the lady who made me late for Saranac Lake put duct tape around my wrists and hobbled my ankles, so yes, I had to. Seriously, she (a complete stranger--is there an incomplete stranger?) spent 20 minutes telling me about the death of her ex-husband 2 days before (obese, a recent development, he grabbed his throat, dropped his head and BINGO! was dead--heart attack, yes, that's right, you guessed it), how she used to come here all the time, about the 400 acres her ex's family owns and blahblahblah. Twenty minutes, I timed it, standing by the coffee pots. And I was already late, made much later by this. But I'm a sociable person and a sympathetic listener.
Canine/feline relationships continue to make baby steps forward. Tess is always poised, ready to do something--I'm not sure what. Chances is only interested in the little metal bowl and what might be in it. Dottie Kittie is more relaxed and braver about walking around the dogs but still gives them a wide berth. I toss her outside each morning and she comes home after dark. Took her a long time to return last night, but sometimes she doesn't come when I call, but instead deposits herself between the screen door and the inside door, sitting there until I notice her. She looks very funny there. Anyway, she continues to be extreeeeemly affectionate and a bottomless pit of hunger. And without prey. What's up with that? Sometimes she sleeps downstairs, while the mice lick the peanut butter off of the traps without tripping them. Shhhh, don't wake the cat.
Payday today and I have a long list of things to spend money on, if there happens to be a dollar left after car payment, insurance payment, phone bill, electric bill, bill for privilege of living in America. I ordered some daffodil bulbs and iris corms to replace the ones that got dug up by recent "landscaping." Must get kittie supplies, am using borrowed litter box. Begrudgingly purchasing one, always swore I would NOT have one in my house. D's is for #1 only, no #2 allowed. Also must get carrier so I can carry her to kennel when I travel for Thanksgiving. I know, most people leave cats at home & have someone come to feed them, but I don't ask people to do favors for me, so there you go. No doubt this is why I have no money.
Peter continues to play with my land. Yesterday he scraped my driveway so it's now all dirt. Mud season will be a nightmare next spring, but I told him to do whatever he wanted to. He brought his dump truck over because he decided he wants my big rocks at his house. I love recycling, so I'm really happy he found a home for them. I'm used to the volleyball court that is my yard, but I don't think anyone else is.
Weather is great--warm. Slept with the bedroom window wide open last night. 50 degrees in the morning, supposed to get up to 70 on Monday. Would love to stay home and sun in the yard, but am taking Nov. 9 off to have stove pipe cleaned so will try to get work done. Am working on reports for member libs. (and us) comparing items in collections to number of circs by categories. Once again I've proven that our patrons don't read biographies. And that our non-fiction (even our cookbooks) don't circulate. The bookmobile stats are far more interesting, since that's our only direct service point. Anyway, the member library reports take forever to do--lots of manipulating cells and moving stuff around in Excel. I've pretty much got a rhythm going (although last night I thought of a way to tweak them to make them much more understandable, so will have to re-do the 12 I've already printed). Have to do 30 by the 29th. Plugging along.
I'm still going to Saranac Lake once a week to catalog their Adirondack Collection. Finding some really strange stuff, ask the curator why the books are included in the collection and sometimes even she doesn't know. I'm trying to give them subject headings to explain their relevance but it's not always easy. Like, how can you make it matter that they're from Robert Louis Stevenson's private collection but have nothing to do with the Adks?
Must look for broken book to use as example for workshop. This will not be hard to do.
A quick entry before a book repair workshop I have to/am obligated to go to this morning from 9-12. Former director, the one who hired me in 1984, is doing the workshop. I'm forcing one of my clerks to go and she's all over it with resentment, but for some reason today is much more reasonable and amenable to the idea, realizes we have to go to support this man. This man has just been appointed director of the Platts. Pub. Library--at age 79. That library is next door to us and is our Central Library, so we channel more than $100,000 to them to offer extra services to our member libraries, hence we work very, very closely with them. No one in the whole world of North Country libraries can figure out a)why he wants this job and b)why they hired him. At least he's a very, very nice man. And he understands that the System matters.
Dinner with Fred last night. He was returning to Platts. after spending the afternoon closing his camp, saw me driving home, turned around and followed me until I finally noticed he was behind me. Flashed his lights, tried to get me to pull over, finally passed me and got me to stop so he could suggest we hit the diner for dinner. "We have to catch up." We turned around and drove the 10 or so miles back to Jingles, had diner food and caught up. He just spent 3 days in Quebec City, looking for a condo for his friend the millionairess to buy for her 3rd home. I needed to hear all the details, especially culinary experiences. Two dinners at good restaurants cost $500. Can't say "Canadian" as if it matters any more, now that our dollars match their loonies. Anyway, I love being with Fred and we had a great time. When I say things like "I have to spend time with Ken," or "I had to listen to this lady tell me her life story when I got coffee the other day" he ALWAYS tells me I don't have to, no one is making me. I finally told him that the lady who made me late for Saranac Lake put duct tape around my wrists and hobbled my ankles, so yes, I had to. Seriously, she (a complete stranger--is there an incomplete stranger?) spent 20 minutes telling me about the death of her ex-husband 2 days before (obese, a recent development, he grabbed his throat, dropped his head and BINGO! was dead--heart attack, yes, that's right, you guessed it), how she used to come here all the time, about the 400 acres her ex's family owns and blahblahblah. Twenty minutes, I timed it, standing by the coffee pots. And I was already late, made much later by this. But I'm a sociable person and a sympathetic listener.
Canine/feline relationships continue to make baby steps forward. Tess is always poised, ready to do something--I'm not sure what. Chances is only interested in the little metal bowl and what might be in it. Dottie Kittie is more relaxed and braver about walking around the dogs but still gives them a wide berth. I toss her outside each morning and she comes home after dark. Took her a long time to return last night, but sometimes she doesn't come when I call, but instead deposits herself between the screen door and the inside door, sitting there until I notice her. She looks very funny there. Anyway, she continues to be extreeeeemly affectionate and a bottomless pit of hunger. And without prey. What's up with that? Sometimes she sleeps downstairs, while the mice lick the peanut butter off of the traps without tripping them. Shhhh, don't wake the cat.
Payday today and I have a long list of things to spend money on, if there happens to be a dollar left after car payment, insurance payment, phone bill, electric bill, bill for privilege of living in America. I ordered some daffodil bulbs and iris corms to replace the ones that got dug up by recent "landscaping." Must get kittie supplies, am using borrowed litter box. Begrudgingly purchasing one, always swore I would NOT have one in my house. D's is for #1 only, no #2 allowed. Also must get carrier so I can carry her to kennel when I travel for Thanksgiving. I know, most people leave cats at home & have someone come to feed them, but I don't ask people to do favors for me, so there you go. No doubt this is why I have no money.
Peter continues to play with my land. Yesterday he scraped my driveway so it's now all dirt. Mud season will be a nightmare next spring, but I told him to do whatever he wanted to. He brought his dump truck over because he decided he wants my big rocks at his house. I love recycling, so I'm really happy he found a home for them. I'm used to the volleyball court that is my yard, but I don't think anyone else is.
Weather is great--warm. Slept with the bedroom window wide open last night. 50 degrees in the morning, supposed to get up to 70 on Monday. Would love to stay home and sun in the yard, but am taking Nov. 9 off to have stove pipe cleaned so will try to get work done. Am working on reports for member libs. (and us) comparing items in collections to number of circs by categories. Once again I've proven that our patrons don't read biographies. And that our non-fiction (even our cookbooks) don't circulate. The bookmobile stats are far more interesting, since that's our only direct service point. Anyway, the member library reports take forever to do--lots of manipulating cells and moving stuff around in Excel. I've pretty much got a rhythm going (although last night I thought of a way to tweak them to make them much more understandable, so will have to re-do the 12 I've already printed). Have to do 30 by the 29th. Plugging along.
I'm still going to Saranac Lake once a week to catalog their Adirondack Collection. Finding some really strange stuff, ask the curator why the books are included in the collection and sometimes even she doesn't know. I'm trying to give them subject headings to explain their relevance but it's not always easy. Like, how can you make it matter that they're from Robert Louis Stevenson's private collection but have nothing to do with the Adks?
Must look for broken book to use as example for workshop. This will not be hard to do.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
She's back, for now
Some people have complained that I've cut down on the frequency of my blogging. I'm always surprised that anyone would miss these comments and reports on my life, but my friend M. said my blog is better than a phone call: you can take it any time you want to and you don't have to respond. Plus, I see how often I check blogs of the people whose lives I'm interested in, so I guess I should pay more attention.
Anyway, I mostly blog at work--pretty exclusively, given my dial-access toll call connection at home. Guess I've been busier at work, or maybe more motivated. There's not a lot of new or different or exciting stuff going on, just maybe some other cataloging things than normal. I've been going to Saranac Lake once a week, for half a day to catalog the Adirondack Collection there. They have a really extensive and special collection there and everyone's really excited to get it into the data base. I've never been welcomed with such enthusiasm, and certainly my cataloging has never been appreciated more. I can only do it for 4 hours, though, no earphones, no getting up to walk around, no soda to drink, no conversation. When I tried to do it for 7 hours I started to fall asleep. So I work here for a morning then drive the hour there, work and leave for home. The drive there and to home from there is beautiful.
Things at home are fine, not as peaceful as in the past. I'm not sure why I feel compelled to stir things up when they get settled down but that certainly is my pattern. Twice when I had harmony with two dogs I adopted another dog, both times with bad results. This time at least I only got a cat. And she's a sweet cat, but cats are more demanding than I thought and I'm still working out details of the Peace Talks between canines and feline. Dottie is really getting brave, but the dogs flex every muscle and are poised to pounce when she struts through the room. They get gold stars for restraint. I throw her outside every morning when I go to work and she has finally stopped trying to get back in the house, now trots away from the house. GOOD! I'll not have a fat indoor cat. She seems to be getting fat, too, but so far she's only pooped in the litter box once. NO POOPING IN THE HOUSE!!
Meanwhile I'm still the only one catching any mice. I caught numbers 16 and 17 last night. I assume I caught #17--the trap was missing, so I'm guessing mousie dragged it away somehow. Like the one that got its leg mangled but was otherwise free. Yucka-pucka that was really awful. I opened the kitchen drawer and KAZAM! there it was, eyes as big as, well, let's see, how big can mouse eyes get? Anyway, both of us had a big shock. Worst thing ever in mouse trap lines is not killing one. I put mouse & trap in a plastic bag, took it outside & opened the trap. Super icky. Mouse ran really, really fast (on 3 legs) and took a flying leap off the deck. No longer my problem. Some people stomp them, but I sure am not one of those people. No, I do not want to see them die, I can only deal with their already-dead bodies.
Summer people gone at last. I love everyone dearly but I really want my life back. Columbus Day it's huge social fest, as usual. This year's added bonus was M's son's wedding, a true highlight. Rain didn't really seem to make a difference, except the poor bride never really got a chance to show off her dress properly. I took a picture of the huge table of pies, which I'll give to M. Too fantastic to believe. Lin and I had a great time being social butterflies, even though we knew absolutely not another soul.
Have some issues to deal with but am handling as well as I can. Glad to be doing it on my own, privately. I feel as if I sometimes share too much of my stuff with too many people. Geez, a girl has to keep some parts of herself private, doesn't she? Where's the mystique? I like keeping this to myself, it feels good. My sister has always been good at keeping things to herself, and I've admired that. I've never, ever been capable of that, have always had to blat things, appropriate or not. Which is part of this problem. Well, if I don't want anyone to know about it, why did I bring it up? I guess so people will know a)why I've not blogged and b)if my behavior is different.
Autumn is here. We had our frost but it wasn't really convincing. I brought in some plants and had fires in the stove. I'm really pleased that the elbow of the stovepipe was NOT filled with creosote flakes the way it has been for years in the fall. Means I've been burning good wood at hot enough temps. Anyway I have an appointment to get it cleaned on the 9th of Nov. Am taking the day off, which gives me a 4-day weekend. Yahoo! Funny time to have 4 days, but I really enjoy mornings in my house. Lately I've been getting up at 5:30, which is truly not like me. I get up in total darkness and feel like being up. I have my really neat sunrise alarm clock that lights up the room gradually, like the sunrise. It's great and works, if I don't wake up first.
Am trying to adjust to my fall and winter life but need to get into the routine a little more convincingly. Slept nearly all weekend, recovering from the week and the weekend before. Linda and Erd. were here all week, plus I went out with Lin and Ralph Sat. night. Had a wonderful time, haven't been with them in months and months. It was so nice to have the three of us together again.
My niece (Jamie's sister's daughter) has returned to Africa, where she spent some time several months ago, working at a school there. She's really religious and emails about god and His purpose and love for all of us, which I find really alienating and can't relate to at all. This week, though, she had a long email about two of the children she loves a whole, whole lot. Apparently she's never loved anyone as much as she loves them. I found this pretty sad, having missed out on such a deep and wonderful love until being in your 20's. I joked with Barb yesterday that, by the time I was 23 I'd already felt that about 3 times. Well, twice that really counted. Anyway, Keela is doing really well and certainly feels she's doing what she was meant to do, which is a rare thing. My sister is pondering this whole concept: doing what we were meant to do. Although I never, ever thought of myself becoming a librarian before I went to library school, and I totally fell into it serendipitously (my college advisor--who called me Betty, that's how well he knew me, said that, with my B.A. in history and an M.L.S. I could get any job I wanted. HUH?), I have felt that this was probably the best thing for me to have done with my life. Would I have felt that way if I'd chosen something else to do? Yes, I think so. Like, I argue so well that I might have been a really good lawyer, but when I look at it from here I think that's really depressing because arguing was one of the most pronounced symptoms of my bipolarism. Anyway, I've never thought of any other profession, wishing I'd chosen it instead. No regret about being a librarian. I've thought about being a school librarian, working with elementary kids and watching them discover the wonder of reading and information, plus having summers off, but then I think about public libraries, and here I am. Only it's better than a public library because there's no public! I get to help people who work in public libraries figure out how to help the public and how to run their libraries, plus I get to build a collection for the bookmobile (and the inmates, always the inmates). So I've got it made here. And I've been doing it for 23 years without regret. 30 years in the profession. Thank goodness for the Internet, is what I say. This profession is always changing and gets more interesting all the time.
Long-winded, no? Speaking of fascinating work, I just cataloged kits with things like checkers and beans in them, intended to teach children various things like counting, numbers, who knows--I just made up subject headings I thought might be remotely related to them. Now I have to catalog lucite boxes with seashells and rubber animals in them. I kid you not. I've been putting this off for at least 6 months. Subject headings, anyone?
Some people have complained that I've cut down on the frequency of my blogging. I'm always surprised that anyone would miss these comments and reports on my life, but my friend M. said my blog is better than a phone call: you can take it any time you want to and you don't have to respond. Plus, I see how often I check blogs of the people whose lives I'm interested in, so I guess I should pay more attention.
Anyway, I mostly blog at work--pretty exclusively, given my dial-access toll call connection at home. Guess I've been busier at work, or maybe more motivated. There's not a lot of new or different or exciting stuff going on, just maybe some other cataloging things than normal. I've been going to Saranac Lake once a week, for half a day to catalog the Adirondack Collection there. They have a really extensive and special collection there and everyone's really excited to get it into the data base. I've never been welcomed with such enthusiasm, and certainly my cataloging has never been appreciated more. I can only do it for 4 hours, though, no earphones, no getting up to walk around, no soda to drink, no conversation. When I tried to do it for 7 hours I started to fall asleep. So I work here for a morning then drive the hour there, work and leave for home. The drive there and to home from there is beautiful.
Things at home are fine, not as peaceful as in the past. I'm not sure why I feel compelled to stir things up when they get settled down but that certainly is my pattern. Twice when I had harmony with two dogs I adopted another dog, both times with bad results. This time at least I only got a cat. And she's a sweet cat, but cats are more demanding than I thought and I'm still working out details of the Peace Talks between canines and feline. Dottie is really getting brave, but the dogs flex every muscle and are poised to pounce when she struts through the room. They get gold stars for restraint. I throw her outside every morning when I go to work and she has finally stopped trying to get back in the house, now trots away from the house. GOOD! I'll not have a fat indoor cat. She seems to be getting fat, too, but so far she's only pooped in the litter box once. NO POOPING IN THE HOUSE!!
Meanwhile I'm still the only one catching any mice. I caught numbers 16 and 17 last night. I assume I caught #17--the trap was missing, so I'm guessing mousie dragged it away somehow. Like the one that got its leg mangled but was otherwise free. Yucka-pucka that was really awful. I opened the kitchen drawer and KAZAM! there it was, eyes as big as, well, let's see, how big can mouse eyes get? Anyway, both of us had a big shock. Worst thing ever in mouse trap lines is not killing one. I put mouse & trap in a plastic bag, took it outside & opened the trap. Super icky. Mouse ran really, really fast (on 3 legs) and took a flying leap off the deck. No longer my problem. Some people stomp them, but I sure am not one of those people. No, I do not want to see them die, I can only deal with their already-dead bodies.
Summer people gone at last. I love everyone dearly but I really want my life back. Columbus Day it's huge social fest, as usual. This year's added bonus was M's son's wedding, a true highlight. Rain didn't really seem to make a difference, except the poor bride never really got a chance to show off her dress properly. I took a picture of the huge table of pies, which I'll give to M. Too fantastic to believe. Lin and I had a great time being social butterflies, even though we knew absolutely not another soul.
Have some issues to deal with but am handling as well as I can. Glad to be doing it on my own, privately. I feel as if I sometimes share too much of my stuff with too many people. Geez, a girl has to keep some parts of herself private, doesn't she? Where's the mystique? I like keeping this to myself, it feels good. My sister has always been good at keeping things to herself, and I've admired that. I've never, ever been capable of that, have always had to blat things, appropriate or not. Which is part of this problem. Well, if I don't want anyone to know about it, why did I bring it up? I guess so people will know a)why I've not blogged and b)if my behavior is different.
Autumn is here. We had our frost but it wasn't really convincing. I brought in some plants and had fires in the stove. I'm really pleased that the elbow of the stovepipe was NOT filled with creosote flakes the way it has been for years in the fall. Means I've been burning good wood at hot enough temps. Anyway I have an appointment to get it cleaned on the 9th of Nov. Am taking the day off, which gives me a 4-day weekend. Yahoo! Funny time to have 4 days, but I really enjoy mornings in my house. Lately I've been getting up at 5:30, which is truly not like me. I get up in total darkness and feel like being up. I have my really neat sunrise alarm clock that lights up the room gradually, like the sunrise. It's great and works, if I don't wake up first.
Am trying to adjust to my fall and winter life but need to get into the routine a little more convincingly. Slept nearly all weekend, recovering from the week and the weekend before. Linda and Erd. were here all week, plus I went out with Lin and Ralph Sat. night. Had a wonderful time, haven't been with them in months and months. It was so nice to have the three of us together again.
My niece (Jamie's sister's daughter) has returned to Africa, where she spent some time several months ago, working at a school there. She's really religious and emails about god and His purpose and love for all of us, which I find really alienating and can't relate to at all. This week, though, she had a long email about two of the children she loves a whole, whole lot. Apparently she's never loved anyone as much as she loves them. I found this pretty sad, having missed out on such a deep and wonderful love until being in your 20's. I joked with Barb yesterday that, by the time I was 23 I'd already felt that about 3 times. Well, twice that really counted. Anyway, Keela is doing really well and certainly feels she's doing what she was meant to do, which is a rare thing. My sister is pondering this whole concept: doing what we were meant to do. Although I never, ever thought of myself becoming a librarian before I went to library school, and I totally fell into it serendipitously (my college advisor--who called me Betty, that's how well he knew me, said that, with my B.A. in history and an M.L.S. I could get any job I wanted. HUH?), I have felt that this was probably the best thing for me to have done with my life. Would I have felt that way if I'd chosen something else to do? Yes, I think so. Like, I argue so well that I might have been a really good lawyer, but when I look at it from here I think that's really depressing because arguing was one of the most pronounced symptoms of my bipolarism. Anyway, I've never thought of any other profession, wishing I'd chosen it instead. No regret about being a librarian. I've thought about being a school librarian, working with elementary kids and watching them discover the wonder of reading and information, plus having summers off, but then I think about public libraries, and here I am. Only it's better than a public library because there's no public! I get to help people who work in public libraries figure out how to help the public and how to run their libraries, plus I get to build a collection for the bookmobile (and the inmates, always the inmates). So I've got it made here. And I've been doing it for 23 years without regret. 30 years in the profession. Thank goodness for the Internet, is what I say. This profession is always changing and gets more interesting all the time.
Long-winded, no? Speaking of fascinating work, I just cataloged kits with things like checkers and beans in them, intended to teach children various things like counting, numbers, who knows--I just made up subject headings I thought might be remotely related to them. Now I have to catalog lucite boxes with seashells and rubber animals in them. I kid you not. I've been putting this off for at least 6 months. Subject headings, anyone?
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