I don't seem to be alone in noticing that I'm having problems these days. I've had a couple of offers of "If you want to talk, give me a call." I had another problem yesterday with the visitors from Balto while we were at Ken's for dinner. Is it Sunday's? This is like my childhood, when my parents would celebrate Sunday afternoons by having big, nasty and (I thought) complicated arguments. I take my meds, but still I feel the need to pick a fight. My behavior was really embarrassing yesterday, one of those things I wish I could take back, and in front of witnesses so now of course other people are afraid to disagree with me because they don't want to be treated that way. I've been working so hard at controlling that, trying to make sure that part of me doesn't surface, or is under control. I wonder if I'll ever be able to control it. It's really discouraging--more than people could ever know. Maybe it's the season, Feb. is a hard month. Maybe I'm fed up with myself. Maybe my meds aren't right. Maybe I really am disgusted with some things people do. Maybe I like to argue and there's not much I can argue about so I find things. It wasn't a totally stupid argument but I was unkind and unrelenting. Not a nice girl. I'll keep track of these things. This is the second Sunday this has happened. And once again I have to apologize for my behavior. At least with Mr. Rabbit Hunter Asshole I couldn't apologize because he hopped right on out of the neighborhood. I certainly am a self-righteous jackoff, but at least I know this about myself. Anyway, I'll see "The Girls" tonight and will throw myself at their mercy. Too bad I'm past menopause and don't have migraines or didn't just have a terrible tragedy happen. The Patriots hadn't lost yet.
Other than disappointing myself yesterday was nice. Temps are in the 20's, which is really great. T-shirt weather this time of year. It's magnificent if the sun is out, which wasn't the case, but it was still great. I can tell I'm not great because I slept for more than 4 hours on Sat., but yesterday I was up at 6 and had plenty of good energy all day. I didn't sleep at all well Sat. night, woke every hour. I had a funny dream--briefly, it took place in the last house we lived in in Rockford, and my whole family was there. My mother was very young. The plumbing was broken and you couldn't flush the toilet. Newly arrived, I asked Liza how long it had been like that and she said 25 days. I was horrified. My father was fixing it, my brother and sister told me. He was in the basement, came up and was Ed Asner, shorter than I am. I felt it important to tell him the list of reasons I knew he should call a plumber. At first I couldn't speak, but finally I was able to talk. First on the list: It's DANGEROUS to handle feces. Well, I woke myself up because I said this out loud. I woke up the dogs, too. In true Spaulding Rogers style, I told the dogs (and my book group) repeatedly all day that it's DANGEROUS to handle feces. My father liked to say "fecal boli," among other charming things. So now everyone knows something important and I'm happy to educate the world.
At work today I have accomplished very little so far. Examined the NYTimes bestseller lists to find out if I'm any good at selecting books. Good at fiction, but why are Americans reading such awful non-fiction? #3 is the unauthorized Andrew Morton biography of Tom Cruise. Morton is the one who wrote the first tell-all biography of Princess Diana. Mostly the rest of the books are inspirational or what's wrong with America or how much I've suffered and overcome, but also Steve Martin and Stephen Colbert. I need to decide how many of these things I have to buy, doling out the taxpayers' dollars carefully. The book budget was increased a little bit this year, but with the caveat that, if we don't get as much money from the state as we're hoping, it will be the first place to be raided. So, like, how do I plan my purchasing? Encumber $25,000 right now so I'll be sure to have at least that much? Not to mention that the director is always "bringing to my attention" things she finds on Amazon, which of course I have to purchase whether our Barbara Delinsky and James Patterson readers want to read or not. I encumbered $4000 for audiobooks because I thought I had that much leftover from last year, but was then told that NO, I did not have that money because I wasn't told about it before the 2007 books were closed and the money went back into the general fund. Games, games, games. So I underspent my budget for 2007, which makes it look as if I don't need such a big book budget. And whine, whine, whine. What do the bookmobile patrons want? Large print romance novels. Westerns. Bestselling fiction. Some Christian fiction. Audiobooks. Not much non-fiction. What do the inmates want? They want to make $2 million dollars in 30 days with no money down. Apparently there are a lot of ways to do that, and they find every book that tells how to do it. They also want all the newspaper articles about the crimes they committed, especially the guy who shot & killed a lawyer in the Bronx a few years ago. And books about women and sex and how to please a woman. And James Patterson. And wicca. And now that they know I use the Internet they want all sorts of addresses of politicians and companies and Chambers of Commerce. And of course none of them committed the crime they were convicted of, or if they may have done it, they didn't get a fair trial. No. Really.
Oh, it's all so appealing, I think I'd better get going. I have a brochure for ordering some yummy westerns. The outlaw sherriff. Ghost town belles. Bad moon over Devil's Ridge. My favorite author is Orlando Rigoni. I think he died, though. But so did Max Brand, and he keeps writing.
Monday, February 04, 2008
duh
Sometimes I think it would be nice to know what animals are thinking. Especially Tess. Not so much kittie, because I always feel she has great contempt for things like my housekeeping, the way the dogs get to have things arranged, and many other things. Anyway, I have no idea what the two of them are thinking. I didn't call them or try to get their attention. Either they're not thinking a complicated thought at all, or they're looking at me as if they think I'm really stoopid. Or maybe they're just animals and aren't like humans at all. Anyway, they pose like this a lot.
I guess they were playing but kittie got tired of the way Tess was playing because all of a sudden I heard Tess yelp. She didn't respond the way Chances would have, though--Chances takes those things so personally, she's really wounded emotionally. Tess just walked away, and a few minutes later she and kittie were rubbing each other.
I guess they were playing but kittie got tired of the way Tess was playing because all of a sudden I heard Tess yelp. She didn't respond the way Chances would have, though--Chances takes those things so personally, she's really wounded emotionally. Tess just walked away, and a few minutes later she and kittie were rubbing each other.
can't be bothered
Chances finds the cat boring but intimidating (and no wonder--kittie rubs up against her, then nails her with nasty claws, totally unprovoked. This does not endear her to me). Lots of the time kittie does not let the dogs come to me: she parks herself in front of me and sets a rubbing trap. She especially likes to do this when I'm sitting on the toilet. This is a big disappointment to the dogs because that used to be a meet & greet time for them.
spooky eyes
Cats have very strange eyes. I suppose they're expressive, but I don't see her eyes often enough to know what (if anything) she's expressing with them. Mostly they're closed, or I'm looking at her butt hole as she walks away from me. I pick her up, though, to pet her, but she doesn't look at me when I do that. Sometimes she leans over so far that she's parallel to the floor. Purring, always purring.
ratly
There was this urban myth when I was in college about the Vietnamese rat, which supposedly was a huge, really huge rat. This is sort of what I pictured it would look like.
Kitchen window
This is the window sill above my kitchen sink. In both of the houses we lived in in Rockford there were windows above the kitchen sink. The house in RI, where I lived for almost 10 years, had a wall in front of the sink--so you'd stare at the wall while you washed the dishes or got food ready.
Jamie and I agreed that it was really important to have a nice view out a window above the kitchen sink. There's a double window. If I decide to conserve energy (and money) I cover the windows with plastic, but that means I have to take everything off of the windowsill. I guess I like having something to look at up close as well as outside because most winters I don't cover the window. Being lazy is another reason I don't do it. The window sill is cherry Jamie was very proud of that. I could care less.
Nearly all of the wood in my house (and there's an incredible amount of it: every room except one bathroom and a hall has a wood floor) was sawn by Jamie at the sawmill we used to own. One bedroom of the 3 has "boughten" wood", very pretty spruce. The house is like a Wood Hall of Fame: red oak in the kitchen, hard maple in the living room and downstairs bedroom, ash in the library, cedar in the downstairs bathroom, ash stairs with cherry railings, wide pine planks in the upstairs living room and master bedroom. Whew! I got really sick of wood floors, but Jamie had been setting the wood aside for a long time, and it was what he wanted. He didn't take into account that the wood had been air dried, not kiln dried, so most of it shrank once it warmed up indoors. There are big gaps between all the maple and oak boards--the country look, I guess. It's kind of cool, though because the gaps get bigger and smaller with the change of seasons.
My least favorite is the hard maple--there's not really any grain and it should be stained to be a prettier color--sort of a bland blonde now. Lin helped me paint the living room floor gray. What a huge project! Move all the furniture, paint the floor, hope it doesn't rain because some of the furniture was on the deck, paint a second coat, put the furniture back. Lin helps me with big projects like that. I don't know what I'd do without her help.
Jamie and I agreed that it was really important to have a nice view out a window above the kitchen sink. There's a double window. If I decide to conserve energy (and money) I cover the windows with plastic, but that means I have to take everything off of the windowsill. I guess I like having something to look at up close as well as outside because most winters I don't cover the window. Being lazy is another reason I don't do it. The window sill is cherry Jamie was very proud of that. I could care less.
Nearly all of the wood in my house (and there's an incredible amount of it: every room except one bathroom and a hall has a wood floor) was sawn by Jamie at the sawmill we used to own. One bedroom of the 3 has "boughten" wood", very pretty spruce. The house is like a Wood Hall of Fame: red oak in the kitchen, hard maple in the living room and downstairs bedroom, ash in the library, cedar in the downstairs bathroom, ash stairs with cherry railings, wide pine planks in the upstairs living room and master bedroom. Whew! I got really sick of wood floors, but Jamie had been setting the wood aside for a long time, and it was what he wanted. He didn't take into account that the wood had been air dried, not kiln dried, so most of it shrank once it warmed up indoors. There are big gaps between all the maple and oak boards--the country look, I guess. It's kind of cool, though because the gaps get bigger and smaller with the change of seasons.
My least favorite is the hard maple--there's not really any grain and it should be stained to be a prettier color--sort of a bland blonde now. Lin helped me paint the living room floor gray. What a huge project! Move all the furniture, paint the floor, hope it doesn't rain because some of the furniture was on the deck, paint a second coat, put the furniture back. Lin helps me with big projects like that. I don't know what I'd do without her help.
White Face
This is a scene that sort of defines winter here--Whiteface Mountain (The Olympic Mountain) in winter. All those white stripes. I've always liked Whiteface because it's easy to identify from so many different angles and directions, so when I'm driving around I know what I'm looking at. Growing up in the Midwest we didn't really have landmarks--it was all flat farmland with nothing much going on. Cornfields, farms, soybean fields. Not even very many cows. A hog now and then.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
"There's flies in the kitchen
I can hear 'em in there buzzin'
And I ain't done nothin'
Since I woke up today
How the hell can a person
Go to work in the mornin'
And come home in the evenin'
And have nothin' to say"
Molly posted this John Prine song on her blog--I like this verse because it's my life sometimes. It may sound depressing but I don't read it that way. I find days like that peaceful in my solitary life, reinforcing my belief that maybe I was, after all, meant to be alone. I especially like the part about "ain't done nothin' since I woke up today." I don't see that as a negative--I spend some days like that, but in peace and enjoying where I live and how I live. Besides, I guess playing with your animals constitutes doing something after all.
I had a dream this morning that Jamie and I were walking along, discussing finding one's self, figuring out who you really are. He was definite that you can only do that if you're involved in a relationship--if you're part of a couple, then you find out who you really are. I, of course, said you need to be alone to find out who you REALLY are. It was funny, because there was his true personality (as it used to be, anyway), so definite that he was right and that his point of view was valid and everyone should see it his way.
I've been dreaming about him quite a bit lately, probably because he's in the news almost every day--an audit discovered blatant misuse of town credit cards by town officials (including him). When he's so visible like that he rises to the surface of my mind. Plus yesterday I got something in the mail from his mother. I put off opening it, as if it were something bad, like a letter telling me I'd done something wrong. It wasn't, it was just a newspaper article (which I'd already seen) and some news she thought I didn't know (which I knew long ago, and which part of wasn't true). I feel sorry for her, she's unhealthy and her need to be right and know everything is stronger than ever I guess. She once told me I was her best friend, along with her daughter. That really surprised me (and made me think she must not have had very many good friends), but after Jamie left I realized she missed me very, very much. She could never express that, but I could tell she did. Too bad for her--her son's an ass wipe.
The dreams about Jamie leave me feeling uneasy because it's been too long for me to keep thinking about him. I worry that I'm obsessing and living in the past. Psychiatrist says I'm not, that I've certainly moved on. I have, but he's always there--I guess because he's in the news, and I see his parents from time to time. I was in Lake Placid yesterday, eye doctor appointment. I always feel as if I have to sneak around that town, like, you know--slump way down in my seat. When I have to go there I almost always go there, do whatever I need to do, then get out of town as quickly as possible. Sometimes I grocery shop, but that makes me really nervous. It's all silly--what would I do if I saw Jamie? Run & hide? Get so angry I'd stroke out? Tell him I'm still pissed off about the $13,000 capital gains debt he stiffed me with when he left (oh for god's sake let go of that one!)? Run up to him and swoon? No, I'd get nervous but say hello. Anti-climactic.
Time to get some honest work done. Met with my clerks this morning. One was displeased because I told her I didn't want her to do the work I didn't know she was doing, which was the other clerk's job but she'd snuck into her work because I guess she liked doing it. TOO BAD! We don't get to grab the jobs we want to do and not tell our supervisors' we're doing it. Especially if we're going to complain that we don't get credit for doing it. Dork-o-matic.
It was 1 degree this morning. Someone might have mentioned it was going to be that cold. I was really lazy and stupid last night and let the fire go out. The house was 53 this morning so I have to change my hours today--had to stay home until I got a good fire going, good enough to hold a fire all day. The sun was out when I left, so hopefully the living room will warm up to a reasonable temp. And I did learn my lesson. My lessons are usually hard-learned. I have to break it before I believe it will actually break.
Now on to MARC records. Did you know that "Bruce Willis is Hudson Hawk?"
I can hear 'em in there buzzin'
And I ain't done nothin'
Since I woke up today
How the hell can a person
Go to work in the mornin'
And come home in the evenin'
And have nothin' to say"
Molly posted this John Prine song on her blog--I like this verse because it's my life sometimes. It may sound depressing but I don't read it that way. I find days like that peaceful in my solitary life, reinforcing my belief that maybe I was, after all, meant to be alone. I especially like the part about "ain't done nothin' since I woke up today." I don't see that as a negative--I spend some days like that, but in peace and enjoying where I live and how I live. Besides, I guess playing with your animals constitutes doing something after all.
I had a dream this morning that Jamie and I were walking along, discussing finding one's self, figuring out who you really are. He was definite that you can only do that if you're involved in a relationship--if you're part of a couple, then you find out who you really are. I, of course, said you need to be alone to find out who you REALLY are. It was funny, because there was his true personality (as it used to be, anyway), so definite that he was right and that his point of view was valid and everyone should see it his way.
I've been dreaming about him quite a bit lately, probably because he's in the news almost every day--an audit discovered blatant misuse of town credit cards by town officials (including him). When he's so visible like that he rises to the surface of my mind. Plus yesterday I got something in the mail from his mother. I put off opening it, as if it were something bad, like a letter telling me I'd done something wrong. It wasn't, it was just a newspaper article (which I'd already seen) and some news she thought I didn't know (which I knew long ago, and which part of wasn't true). I feel sorry for her, she's unhealthy and her need to be right and know everything is stronger than ever I guess. She once told me I was her best friend, along with her daughter. That really surprised me (and made me think she must not have had very many good friends), but after Jamie left I realized she missed me very, very much. She could never express that, but I could tell she did. Too bad for her--her son's an ass wipe.
The dreams about Jamie leave me feeling uneasy because it's been too long for me to keep thinking about him. I worry that I'm obsessing and living in the past. Psychiatrist says I'm not, that I've certainly moved on. I have, but he's always there--I guess because he's in the news, and I see his parents from time to time. I was in Lake Placid yesterday, eye doctor appointment. I always feel as if I have to sneak around that town, like, you know--slump way down in my seat. When I have to go there I almost always go there, do whatever I need to do, then get out of town as quickly as possible. Sometimes I grocery shop, but that makes me really nervous. It's all silly--what would I do if I saw Jamie? Run & hide? Get so angry I'd stroke out? Tell him I'm still pissed off about the $13,000 capital gains debt he stiffed me with when he left (oh for god's sake let go of that one!)? Run up to him and swoon? No, I'd get nervous but say hello. Anti-climactic.
Time to get some honest work done. Met with my clerks this morning. One was displeased because I told her I didn't want her to do the work I didn't know she was doing, which was the other clerk's job but she'd snuck into her work because I guess she liked doing it. TOO BAD! We don't get to grab the jobs we want to do and not tell our supervisors' we're doing it. Especially if we're going to complain that we don't get credit for doing it. Dork-o-matic.
It was 1 degree this morning. Someone might have mentioned it was going to be that cold. I was really lazy and stupid last night and let the fire go out. The house was 53 this morning so I have to change my hours today--had to stay home until I got a good fire going, good enough to hold a fire all day. The sun was out when I left, so hopefully the living room will warm up to a reasonable temp. And I did learn my lesson. My lessons are usually hard-learned. I have to break it before I believe it will actually break.
Now on to MARC records. Did you know that "Bruce Willis is Hudson Hawk?"
Monday, January 28, 2008
Super Tuesday - Get ready!
Although I'm getting pretty tired of political coverage in the media, especially the intrusion into my televiewing, I give it a lot of thought most of the time. I talk to my friends, I talk to Ken (OK, he's a friend), I talk to my mother and I talk to myself. We had a conversation here in the department (maybe I reported this before) and one clerk said she didn't want the country run by the NAACP. AUGH!! The other clerk said she didn't want it run by Southern Baptists. Yes, my vote cancels yours.
I supported John Edwards initially because I thought he was the most electable candidate--maybe not a good reason. You're supposed to support the candidate whose politics you agree with, but I'm just shallow enough to feel victory is the important thing. OK, Edwards didn't get the support--or the media coverage, which may have cost him the support. The media has decided we'll choose between Clinton and Obama. When Bill Clinton was running a friend of mine was just starting his business of making bumper stickers, refrigerator magnets and message pins. I got a magnet that was a picture of the Clinton couple and said "Bought one, got one free." I guess that's true again. I've admired Bill Clinton since he spoke at the Democratic Convention a million years ago, when he made that famous 40-minute speech (OK, I didn't make it though the whole speech). I thought he was a great president and I really didn't think his relationship with an intern or his wife merited the attention it got. Let us know he was a jerk, but he has an amazing mind and, it turns out, charisma. So why is he being a jackass now? He could be a great asset to his wife's campaign--either by being invisible or by standing by her side, or by quietly campaigning. Apparently he's of that camp who believes that a woman REALLY can't do it alone, and his wife needs his help because she can't figure out what to do when faced with a worthy opponent. Really, Bill, zip it. He's done a lot of damage--to her campaign and to his image. I'm very disappointed.
I've been really pleased to have her for my Senator. I think Congress is a place she can make a difference, where she can represent me. I'd hate to lose her.
I've long been torn between which candidate to support: Obama or Clilnton. Sisterhood is powerful. But Obama is like a moral, clean young Bill Clinton. Soooo appealing. So intelligent, such a quick study. And from Illinois, no less!
Here's what I think: although America needs to recognize that women are capable of being President, or CEO, or anything that men are, and should be thought of as equals, and gender shouldn't matter, I feel really strongly that racism is something this country needs to face. I'm so ashamed of this country's attitude toward anyone who's not white. You don't so much have to be male anymore, but you sure do have to be white. I know, it's not right to select your candidate based on race, but I have great confidence in Obama, and I find him imminently qualified and, luckily, likable. Hillary? doesn't play well with others. The business about America's being able to work well with other countries with a minority president is just looking for permission to support a black man. America needs to look within its borders and address our own issues--poverty, prejudice, money hogs, etc. Oh, I'm so disappointed, and it's not just Cheney's fault--the people allowed it to happen and followed along. And think Romney might be an OK leader! The man is poison.
Oops, my soapbox just broke.
Back to reality: I don't think Brad Pitt is aging gracefully. Javier Bardem is handsome in a big lug sort of way. Tom Cruise struts like a real dickhead. or Scientologist. Julie Christie is more beautiful than she used to be, but she doesn't know how to accept an award. George Clooney has great class, is incredibly good looking, aging well, and has good manners.
Although I'm getting pretty tired of political coverage in the media, especially the intrusion into my televiewing, I give it a lot of thought most of the time. I talk to my friends, I talk to Ken (OK, he's a friend), I talk to my mother and I talk to myself. We had a conversation here in the department (maybe I reported this before) and one clerk said she didn't want the country run by the NAACP. AUGH!! The other clerk said she didn't want it run by Southern Baptists. Yes, my vote cancels yours.
I supported John Edwards initially because I thought he was the most electable candidate--maybe not a good reason. You're supposed to support the candidate whose politics you agree with, but I'm just shallow enough to feel victory is the important thing. OK, Edwards didn't get the support--or the media coverage, which may have cost him the support. The media has decided we'll choose between Clinton and Obama. When Bill Clinton was running a friend of mine was just starting his business of making bumper stickers, refrigerator magnets and message pins. I got a magnet that was a picture of the Clinton couple and said "Bought one, got one free." I guess that's true again. I've admired Bill Clinton since he spoke at the Democratic Convention a million years ago, when he made that famous 40-minute speech (OK, I didn't make it though the whole speech). I thought he was a great president and I really didn't think his relationship with an intern or his wife merited the attention it got. Let us know he was a jerk, but he has an amazing mind and, it turns out, charisma. So why is he being a jackass now? He could be a great asset to his wife's campaign--either by being invisible or by standing by her side, or by quietly campaigning. Apparently he's of that camp who believes that a woman REALLY can't do it alone, and his wife needs his help because she can't figure out what to do when faced with a worthy opponent. Really, Bill, zip it. He's done a lot of damage--to her campaign and to his image. I'm very disappointed.
I've been really pleased to have her for my Senator. I think Congress is a place she can make a difference, where she can represent me. I'd hate to lose her.
I've long been torn between which candidate to support: Obama or Clilnton. Sisterhood is powerful. But Obama is like a moral, clean young Bill Clinton. Soooo appealing. So intelligent, such a quick study. And from Illinois, no less!
Here's what I think: although America needs to recognize that women are capable of being President, or CEO, or anything that men are, and should be thought of as equals, and gender shouldn't matter, I feel really strongly that racism is something this country needs to face. I'm so ashamed of this country's attitude toward anyone who's not white. You don't so much have to be male anymore, but you sure do have to be white. I know, it's not right to select your candidate based on race, but I have great confidence in Obama, and I find him imminently qualified and, luckily, likable. Hillary? doesn't play well with others. The business about America's being able to work well with other countries with a minority president is just looking for permission to support a black man. America needs to look within its borders and address our own issues--poverty, prejudice, money hogs, etc. Oh, I'm so disappointed, and it's not just Cheney's fault--the people allowed it to happen and followed along. And think Romney might be an OK leader! The man is poison.
Oops, my soapbox just broke.
Back to reality: I don't think Brad Pitt is aging gracefully. Javier Bardem is handsome in a big lug sort of way. Tom Cruise struts like a real dickhead. or Scientologist. Julie Christie is more beautiful than she used to be, but she doesn't know how to accept an award. George Clooney has great class, is incredibly good looking, aging well, and has good manners.
Friday, January 25, 2008
The sentinel
These were my helpers this morning while I was folding laundry. There's nothing going on outside for the cat to be watching but she sure seems fascinated by snow-covered trees. The dogs are exhausted because we got up at 6:30 and they'd been in and out about 8 times already. I didn't have to be at work until 9:30 so we all had a grand time watching morning TV. No interesting news, though, so I got bored and went to work early. I got to do the dishes and fold laundry, and I spent a lot of time paying attention to the dogs. That's just about their favorite thing but they are so jealous of each other. I sit on the couch, patting one while the other waits in line. Tess, of course doesn't have the patience that Chances does and she shoves C. aside and pushes her way in. They each have their "petting positions." And we thought people were creatures of habit.
These really are wonderful dogs and they just adore each other. Tess, I think, recognizes that Chances is older and (is she?) wiser. Right now Tess has a black cat, too. Chances does NOT have a cat, she doesn't even have a black blob, just something black to avoid. Tess wags her tail when she sees her kittie, and kittie rubs her head against Tess. This morning kittie got left behind when we walked into the bedroom and she came tearing into the room, meowing like mad. I still don't know much about cats, except that they are very strange. And they are not like dogs.
These really are wonderful dogs and they just adore each other. Tess, I think, recognizes that Chances is older and (is she?) wiser. Right now Tess has a black cat, too. Chances does NOT have a cat, she doesn't even have a black blob, just something black to avoid. Tess wags her tail when she sees her kittie, and kittie rubs her head against Tess. This morning kittie got left behind when we walked into the bedroom and she came tearing into the room, meowing like mad. I still don't know much about cats, except that they are very strange. And they are not like dogs.
Blurry view
The view from my deck at -7 degrees this morning. Blurry but you can see Silver Lake Mountain.
Icy Saranac
Here's my standard view looking up the Saranac River, just before I get to my coffee stop in Redford. I look at this view more often on my way home than on my way to work; there's another place I look at more on my way to work than on my way home. This morning I was marking the places where I pay special attention to the view. It reminded me of Molly, and her favorite spots--the pier, Henry Park, the beach. We like to record different versions of these spots, and we notice even subtle changes in the views.
Mine are--
The first bridge crossing the Saranac: there's often river smoke and rime ice on the trees in the winter, and there are beautiful colors in the fall.
The end of the Clayburg Road, where the two branches of the Saranac come together--there's a really pretty view looking down the river. Word is they dump the stocked trout there. There are usually fly fishermen there from April through October/November.
This shot--there's an island, barely visible in the picture. I really like seeing it in different clothes throughout the year. Sometimes it's incredibly green.
There's one spot along the Saranac where it's really, really shallow and the bottom is all river rocks, like a cobblestone street. This is where I gauge whether the river is high or low. When the river is high the water is bookin', there's whitewater and you can't see the rocks. When it's low the river is barely trickling through the rocks and it looks as if you could pretty much walk across it.
The "opening view" where you're coming into the Champlain Valley, just west of Plattsburgh. You get a fantastic view of the Green Mtns, from Camel's Hump to Mt. Mansfield. Today you could see way, way north, crystal clear. The two big mountains had their heads in the clouds. I've always loved being able to tell what the weather's like from the way the mountains look. The vista from this vantage point is really, really pretty. Sometimes in winter, before Lake Champlain freezes but the water is warmer than the air here's a huge length of steam and it looks as if the lake is all a-boil.
Mine are--
The first bridge crossing the Saranac: there's often river smoke and rime ice on the trees in the winter, and there are beautiful colors in the fall.
The end of the Clayburg Road, where the two branches of the Saranac come together--there's a really pretty view looking down the river. Word is they dump the stocked trout there. There are usually fly fishermen there from April through October/November.
This shot--there's an island, barely visible in the picture. I really like seeing it in different clothes throughout the year. Sometimes it's incredibly green.
There's one spot along the Saranac where it's really, really shallow and the bottom is all river rocks, like a cobblestone street. This is where I gauge whether the river is high or low. When the river is high the water is bookin', there's whitewater and you can't see the rocks. When it's low the river is barely trickling through the rocks and it looks as if you could pretty much walk across it.
The "opening view" where you're coming into the Champlain Valley, just west of Plattsburgh. You get a fantastic view of the Green Mtns, from Camel's Hump to Mt. Mansfield. Today you could see way, way north, crystal clear. The two big mountains had their heads in the clouds. I've always loved being able to tell what the weather's like from the way the mountains look. The vista from this vantage point is really, really pretty. Sometimes in winter, before Lake Champlain freezes but the water is warmer than the air here's a huge length of steam and it looks as if the lake is all a-boil.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Having some problems posting today--lost my toolbar. Oh how we need our toolbars.
Am feeling not great these days, having some problems keeping my behavior under control. Had a fight with some yahoo kid on Sunday--he was a rabbit hunter in a truck at the end of my driveway and when I approached him to ask him to move he started nattering at me. Unfortunately I nattered back and it became very unpleasant, ending with his saying "Just remember, lady--I know where you live." Since he was from Vermont, doubtless hunting without a NY license, on private property posted NO HUNTING, I doubt he'll be back, but I was disturbed that I couldn't just walk away. That's what I've been working on for a very, very long time.
Yesterday I submitted my monthly department report to the board, listing how many records one clerk downloaded, how many ILLs, etc., and praising my clerks as much as you can praise employees and still sound sincere. The other clerk was very upset because she felt she didn't get credit for the records she downloaded. Unfortunately I just couldn't take her seriously and asked her if getting credit was the most important thing to her. Guess what she said? YES! Then I laughed. I LAUGHED. This is not a woman to be toyed with. Anyway, I apologized to her (she was "deeply hurt"), crawled on my belly like an alligator, ingratiated myself, promised her I'd wash her dishes for the rest of her life as well as do her work. Oh yes, what a terrible thing I did, oh yes, getting credit for the work you do is incredibly important. From now on all I'll say in the department reports is "We did" and "The department did" Well excuuuuuuse me, I was only trying to familiarize the board with the members of the department, since they complain constantly that board members don't know their names. My road to hell is paved with cat shit.
So that was yesterday. Good thing was that I got to go right home, no stops, no errands. Bad thing was that I have no money for groceries. We get paid this week, then all will be well. Must squeeze $350 out of savings account to pay elec. company, in prep. for next bill, which will doubtless be at least $500. They sent me a bill for $16 and I sent them a message asking for a full bill. Response: my bill was an estimate and if I wanted a true bill I would have to read my meter and send them the numbers. This after they installed a new meter that's supposed to communicate directly with their computer to give them a reading. AUGH! Am I frustrated by the world? You bet.
This afternoon I escape to the peace of the Adirondack Room in Saranac Lake, then attend their annual meeting. Poor planning, though, because I also told Ken I'd cook him dinner. It was hard to convince him to let me do this--for some reason he's in a very negative place (or else he's sick of my cooking) and thinks it's too much work to have me cook dinner. I asked him what work he does if I cook and do the dishes and he acqueised (no spellcheck). He's in poor shape these days, frail and weak and not interested in much of anything. Very sad to see but reminds me that there may not be many months left with him. A good thing to think about. Had a long talk with Fred about that this morning. Reality check.
Cold weekend, -10 and not warm at all during the day. Three days off, but I completely wasted Sund and Monday. Sat. I had to go to town because I forgot to get meds from drug store. Ran a few errands but got out of town as quickly as possible. Spent the weekend watching The Wire, season 2. I like that show, every season they take on another element of corruption. This season it was corruption among the stevedores. Who knew what stevedores were?
Time to continue cleaning up the data base. Catalog Lady, that's me.
Am feeling not great these days, having some problems keeping my behavior under control. Had a fight with some yahoo kid on Sunday--he was a rabbit hunter in a truck at the end of my driveway and when I approached him to ask him to move he started nattering at me. Unfortunately I nattered back and it became very unpleasant, ending with his saying "Just remember, lady--I know where you live." Since he was from Vermont, doubtless hunting without a NY license, on private property posted NO HUNTING, I doubt he'll be back, but I was disturbed that I couldn't just walk away. That's what I've been working on for a very, very long time.
Yesterday I submitted my monthly department report to the board, listing how many records one clerk downloaded, how many ILLs, etc., and praising my clerks as much as you can praise employees and still sound sincere. The other clerk was very upset because she felt she didn't get credit for the records she downloaded. Unfortunately I just couldn't take her seriously and asked her if getting credit was the most important thing to her. Guess what she said? YES! Then I laughed. I LAUGHED. This is not a woman to be toyed with. Anyway, I apologized to her (she was "deeply hurt"), crawled on my belly like an alligator, ingratiated myself, promised her I'd wash her dishes for the rest of her life as well as do her work. Oh yes, what a terrible thing I did, oh yes, getting credit for the work you do is incredibly important. From now on all I'll say in the department reports is "We did" and "The department did" Well excuuuuuuse me, I was only trying to familiarize the board with the members of the department, since they complain constantly that board members don't know their names. My road to hell is paved with cat shit.
So that was yesterday. Good thing was that I got to go right home, no stops, no errands. Bad thing was that I have no money for groceries. We get paid this week, then all will be well. Must squeeze $350 out of savings account to pay elec. company, in prep. for next bill, which will doubtless be at least $500. They sent me a bill for $16 and I sent them a message asking for a full bill. Response: my bill was an estimate and if I wanted a true bill I would have to read my meter and send them the numbers. This after they installed a new meter that's supposed to communicate directly with their computer to give them a reading. AUGH! Am I frustrated by the world? You bet.
This afternoon I escape to the peace of the Adirondack Room in Saranac Lake, then attend their annual meeting. Poor planning, though, because I also told Ken I'd cook him dinner. It was hard to convince him to let me do this--for some reason he's in a very negative place (or else he's sick of my cooking) and thinks it's too much work to have me cook dinner. I asked him what work he does if I cook and do the dishes and he acqueised (no spellcheck). He's in poor shape these days, frail and weak and not interested in much of anything. Very sad to see but reminds me that there may not be many months left with him. A good thing to think about. Had a long talk with Fred about that this morning. Reality check.
Cold weekend, -10 and not warm at all during the day. Three days off, but I completely wasted Sund and Monday. Sat. I had to go to town because I forgot to get meds from drug store. Ran a few errands but got out of town as quickly as possible. Spent the weekend watching The Wire, season 2. I like that show, every season they take on another element of corruption. This season it was corruption among the stevedores. Who knew what stevedores were?
Time to continue cleaning up the data base. Catalog Lady, that's me.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
If I had a horse
If I had a horse, like National Velvet, my horse and I could have leapt right over this tree. We had a big wind storm last week. I was driving home from Saranac Lake and for some reason I took the back roads to get home. This is the first tree I encountered. The woman driving this Jeep and I got out and tried to move the tree. We could only do so much. We knew it wouldn't be long before someone would be by with a chain saw, or some sort of solution. Sure enough, a man in his truck showed up and he pulled the tree to the side of the road with a rope.
There were 8 more trees down on the way home, but all but one had been cut up and moved to the side so the road was passable. What a storm! My power was out from Weds. until Sat. morning. A very dramatic tale, involving water in my cellar, pumps that wouldn't pump, great luck for me that I have a good water pump that pumps after being totally submerged. Going without power for 4 days isn't so bad but it's pretty boring. Plus, of course, the no water thing is always a challenge.
There were 8 more trees down on the way home, but all but one had been cut up and moved to the side so the road was passable. What a storm! My power was out from Weds. until Sat. morning. A very dramatic tale, involving water in my cellar, pumps that wouldn't pump, great luck for me that I have a good water pump that pumps after being totally submerged. Going without power for 4 days isn't so bad but it's pretty boring. Plus, of course, the no water thing is always a challenge.
Rubber soles only
Don't get out of the car! Don't touch anything metal! This tree brought down a live wire, but it might have been a telephone line. You can see the line in the foreground. I had driven a really long way and was near the road to home when I came across this one. Rats! Turn around and start all over again.
Alder Brook
This is Alder Brook, which crosses the road on the way to Silver Lake from the west. I always thought this road was the Union Falls Road, but Jenica and I discovered it's been renamed the Alder Brook Road. Very confusing when using Mapquest to get directions for friends.
I like the way this picture looks crooked because of the way the brook flows. I made an effort to keep the horizon straight because lots of times I don't
I like the way this picture looks crooked because of the way the brook flows. I made an effort to keep the horizon straight because lots of times I don't
Alder Brook too
This is one of the scenes my siblings and I have photographed often, but usually in other seasons. Molly painted a beautiful picture of this scene, and Henry took a beautiful photograph with just a little bit of yellow in the foreground.
Early morning Saranac
Here's the sunrise, looking out over the Saranac River valley from Jingles Diner. It's really nice to see things like this every day. Like Molly, I have a sense of gratitude when I see things like this.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Your Score: ESTP-The Promoter
You scored 81% I to E, 57% N to S, 66% F to T, and 52% J to P!
Your type is known as the promoter, because you have no trouble approaching strangers and you are so charismatic that you are good at pursuading people to do your bidding. Your type is a subgroup of the experiencers group, also called artisans. You are a person of action - when you are around, things happen. Resourceful with people is a good way to describe you. Life is never dull around you. You are witty, clever, and fun. You are socially suave and know just the right thing to say to everyone you meet. You share your personality type with 10% of the population.
As a romantic partner, you are usually exciting and willing to try anything once. You are often much more responsive to your partner's physical needs, rather than their emotional ones. You tend to communicate at what other types tend to think of as a superficial level, as you don't see a big need for heart-to-heart talks. You want to be appreciated for the fun-loving responsive problem solver you are. You are happiest when your partner respects your need for freedom to be spontaneous and to enjoy life's many pleasures.
Your group summary: Experiencers (sp)<
Your Type Summary: ESTP
| Link: The LONG Scientific Personality Test written by unpretentious2 on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test View My Profile(unpretentious2) |
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Dog saves boy from fire by biting foot
Mon Jan 7, 9:56 PM ET
PORTAGE, Ind. - A black Labrador that bit a 13-year-old boy's foot repeatedly, waking him up, is being credited with saving the boy and two of his friends from a house fire. Christopher Peebles said he woke up Friday morning to feel his dog Laney biting his foot repeatedly in the basement of his family's home, where he and two friends had spent the night.
Will I get any work done today? So far not so much. 10:00 doctor's appointment (yes, I am sane) and 10:30 Starbucks appointment ($21 left on gift card #1). Yesterday I discovered a box of stuff sent to me in October with the request that it be cataloged quickly, as library has subscription and will be receiving more in the series. Well, why haven't I heard from them since Oct.? Do they really think I'm that incompetent? Or are they impressed that I'm so busy that I just can't get to it.
The dept. head of the Cataloging Dept. I first worked for tried to convince people that a big backlog meant we were doing a good job. If we were way behind in our work it meant we were taking a long time to catalog each book, which meant we were using the right subject headings and Dewey numbers, putting each book in just the right place. For a while I actually bought into that, until other people starting asking me to explain it and I tried to do it while keeping a straight face. He was ultimately fired and I was promoted to Dept. Head, after having been transferred to the Ref. Dept. A colleague said "Elizabeth is banished, then returns triumphant." I like being described as triumphant. I've felt triumphant pretty often in recent years. But does starting a fire in your wood stove really count? Oh yes, when it's -15 outside and you've got a good bed of coals because you stuffed the stove really well so the wood burned just right from the previous fire.
Farmers penalized for discharge
January 8, 2008
Free Press Staff Report
Today's headline from the Burlington (Vt.) Free Press. I mean really, if they want you to take the news seriously shouldn't they come up with better headlines? This is a serious story about farmers dumping cow manure where it runs right into Lake Champlain, which causes algae blooms and pollutes the lake, kills fish, etc. It's not "discharge," like, discharge you get when you eat too much fat when you're taking Alli, or have a yeast infection, or a cold or something. Bet the reporter has a sense of humor and was pissed that he got stuck with this story. Tough shit. hahahaha.
January 8, 2008
Free Press Staff Report
Today's headline from the Burlington (Vt.) Free Press. I mean really, if they want you to take the news seriously shouldn't they come up with better headlines? This is a serious story about farmers dumping cow manure where it runs right into Lake Champlain, which causes algae blooms and pollutes the lake, kills fish, etc. It's not "discharge," like, discharge you get when you eat too much fat when you're taking Alli, or have a yeast infection, or a cold or something. Bet the reporter has a sense of humor and was pissed that he got stuck with this story. Tough shit. hahahaha.
Monday, January 07, 2008
christmas bunny
I'm not at all sure what a rabbit has to do with Christmas, but Liza has two sets of candle things that include hopping bunnies. Christmas bunnies?
Anyway, here's my Christmas trip to Rhode Island. I had a good time, stayed longer than usually, around 10 days. The weather was good, mostly 40's. It rained enough to get rid of the little bit of snow there was. The dogs had a good time but when we got home they ran and ran. Liza has a dog pen but they can't run the way they can at home--all they do is run into the road.
I boarded kittie, who pretty much pretended the whole thing never happened. Some cats (and dogs) get cross and ignore their owners after being boarded, but kittie was just happy to be home and purred a lot, whined for food, wandered upstairs and went to sleep on her perch. Not a big deal (for her--cost me plenty, though).
The driving was uneventful. I listened to Richard Russo's latest book a lot, but got sort of sleepy when I did, so then of course Bruce perked me up. With a little Michael Jackson thrown in. Very little.
Anyway, here's my Christmas trip to Rhode Island. I had a good time, stayed longer than usually, around 10 days. The weather was good, mostly 40's. It rained enough to get rid of the little bit of snow there was. The dogs had a good time but when we got home they ran and ran. Liza has a dog pen but they can't run the way they can at home--all they do is run into the road.
I boarded kittie, who pretty much pretended the whole thing never happened. Some cats (and dogs) get cross and ignore their owners after being boarded, but kittie was just happy to be home and purred a lot, whined for food, wandered upstairs and went to sleep on her perch. Not a big deal (for her--cost me plenty, though).
The driving was uneventful. I listened to Richard Russo's latest book a lot, but got sort of sleepy when I did, so then of course Bruce perked me up. With a little Michael Jackson thrown in. Very little.
A RIOT!
Pretty soon these folks will need their own zip code. These are the Italian villagers, bringing things to the baby Jesus. Or putting on a Christmas play. Or singing in a choir. Or rioting. Or rushing into a store to buy iPhones. Or maybe they're hurrying to hear Ron Paul.
good consumers
The tree on Christmas morning. I think we still need to cut back on presents, but the three of us have a good time giving each other things.
tannenbaum
The tree, reflected in the window, with some of the garland showing. There's garland draped all over the house. Mark has managed to tone down the decorations over the years, now it looks almost normal.
old skater
This is a small ornament I gave Liza about 30 years ago. I bought it at an old mill that had a really nice gift shop in the upstairs. It turned out that many years later Liza worked with the mother of the woman who ran the shop. I got myself a skater like this. I really like it.
elbow basket
For several years I made everyone little basket ornaments. Boy was that a lot of work. This is a miniature elbow basket. I didn't keep any of the ornaments for myself, so I like seeing them on Liza's tree.
quotation marks
Wouldn't be complete without a picture of the chocolates. They do love Liza's couch--it's bigger than mine. I like the way Chances' paw turns under and backwards, pawpads up.
Jamestown bridge
After Christmas I went out with my friend Linda. Linda and I lived next door to each other in a duplex when I first moved to RI, in 1975. She was married, and my boyfriend worked with her husband as a waiter in a good restaurant. We all drank a lot and it was a pretty sloppy life. We all fought a lot, too. One night Linda cooked a nice ham dinner for Jeff, but he came home late and drunk, and through the wall between our homes we could hear her throw the whole dinner--ham, potatoes, etc., complete with dishes--across the room at him. Oh, it was a great way to become an adult.
Anyway, Linda now lives in Jamestown, has lived alone for a lot longer than I have. This is the new Jamestown Bridge. Jamestown is on an island in the middle of Narragansett Bay, between my mother's home and Newport.
The old Jamestown bridge was horrible to drive on--no barrier between the two lanes, steel decking. I sort of liked it because it made me feel pretty brave and reckless to not be fearful when I drove across it. Plus you had a much better view from it than from this one. They blew up the old bridge and it was on TV all over the place. Americans are easily entertained.
Anyway, Linda and I agreed to meet, as we usually do at Christmas. I was hoping for a nice lunch, then back to Liza's, but L. decided she wanted "to make a day of it." We had a nice time touring Newport, driving along Ocean Drive, past all the mansions, touring downtown. It was my turn to pay for lunch--$75, then we went to an expensive inn for drinks, which she paid for. The house wine was $11 a glass and the bar bill was $42. I can't imagine spending that kind of money anywhere but Newport, but I'm such a bumpkiin that I'm sure plenty of places cost lots and lots more.
Anyway, Linda now lives in Jamestown, has lived alone for a lot longer than I have. This is the new Jamestown Bridge. Jamestown is on an island in the middle of Narragansett Bay, between my mother's home and Newport.
The old Jamestown bridge was horrible to drive on--no barrier between the two lanes, steel decking. I sort of liked it because it made me feel pretty brave and reckless to not be fearful when I drove across it. Plus you had a much better view from it than from this one. They blew up the old bridge and it was on TV all over the place. Americans are easily entertained.
Anyway, Linda and I agreed to meet, as we usually do at Christmas. I was hoping for a nice lunch, then back to Liza's, but L. decided she wanted "to make a day of it." We had a nice time touring Newport, driving along Ocean Drive, past all the mansions, touring downtown. It was my turn to pay for lunch--$75, then we went to an expensive inn for drinks, which she paid for. The house wine was $11 a glass and the bar bill was $42. I can't imagine spending that kind of money anywhere but Newport, but I'm such a bumpkiin that I'm sure plenty of places cost lots and lots more.
Jamestown
Looking down Narragansett Bay to the Atlantic Ocean. That's Beavertail Point. There's an old military fort there (wait, is there another kind of fort?) because during WWII Rhode Island (like everywhere else) they set up posts to watch for German submarines. I think they found one, too. Anyway, it's a pretty strange place, all concrete bunkers with strange rooms. I love the way the government builds these structures then just leaves them behind without any explanation or map or details.
jamestown
It's really pretty as you get to the shore of Jamestown, but if you're driving it's hard to look at the scenery and drive at the same time.
newport bridge
This is one of the most famous landmarks in all of Rhode Island--the Newport Bridge. You can see it from afar, like the 3 kings' star. This is from the eastern side of Jamestown. When I lived there, there would be jumpers off of the Newport Bridge--once when we were driving across the bridge they closed a lane because someone was way up on the top. How could anyone get that far up? I know I'd have to jump long before I got that high because I'd never be able to get back down. Anyway, now they apparently jump off of the Jamestown Bridge too because it's so much bigger. Nice of the State to accommodate them, huh.
sunday paper
This is what it's usually like the morning I leave. We hang out reading the Sunday paper, then I finally pack up and get ready to leave. Or maybe I get ready, then pack up to leave. Anyway, we have a nice morning together before I go. I like to look at the store flyers, which they both think is really strange--and it is--but I think I just like to know what's for sale out there in the real world. It's like in the old days when people read the Sears catalog, I think. No, I can't have any of those things, but I can see what they look like.
what a pair
Believe it or not, the other picture was even worse than this one. Yes, they really are happy. No, really. And we were having fun. Really. Fun.
| What Elizabeth Means |
 You are relaxed, chill, and very likely to go with the flow.You are light hearted and accepting. You don't get worked up easily.Well adjusted and incredibly happy, many people wonder what your secret to life is. You tend to be pretty tightly wound. It's easy to get you excited... which can be a good or bad thing.You have a lot of enthusiasm, but it fades rather quickly. You don't stick with any one thing for very long.You have the drive to accomplish a lot in a short amount of time. Your biggest problem is making sure you finish the projects you start. You are incredibly wise and perceptive. You have a lot of life experience.You are a natural peacemaker, and you are especially good at helping others get along.But keeping the peace in your own life is not easy. You see things very differently, and it's hard to get you to budge. You are usually the best at everything ... you strive for perfection. You are confident, authoritative, and aggressive. You have the classic "Type A" personality. You are full of energy. You are spirited and boisterous.You are bold and daring. You are willing to do some pretty outrageous things.Your high energy sometimes gets you in trouble. You can have a pretty bad temper at times. You are a seeker. You often find yourself restless - and you have a lot of questions about life.You tend to travel often, to fairly random locations. You're most comfortable when you're far away from home.You are quite passionate and easily tempted. Your impulses sometimes get you into trouble. You are truly an original person. You have amazing ideas, and the power to carry them out.Success comes rather easily for you... especially in business and academia.Some people find you to be selfish and a bit overbearing. You're a strong person. |
So...there you have me. I think the highlighted parts are especially keen and accurate, no? Oh yes, I love to travel to random locations. Can't wait to get as far from home as possible. Hate to spend more time at home than I absolutely have to. No, never sit on the couch watching TV. No imprint of my butt on my furniture, no deep indentation in the shape of my body in my futon.
Well, I know these things hit amazingly close to home anyway. This one sounds more as if it's describing my dog Tess than me.
Monday, December 10, 2007
living room view
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.
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.
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