First, the fun!
This afternoon, St. Anthony's Cathedral celebrated their 100th Anniversary and several other significant events in the life of the local Catholic diocese. The bishop invited local clergy of all faiths to attend and be part of the processional, wearing the traditional garb of their faith. It was really cool!
In addition to five Christian denominations being represented (Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran, Episcopal, and Presbyterian), the Jewish, Bhuddist, and Hindu faiths were present. As the Honorably Retired Presbyterian minister serving the Lutheran church as interim stated, "Leave it to the Catholics to do a celebration up right!"
I'd never realized that there were so many lay organizations within the Catholic church. The honor guard was made up of members of the Knights of Columbus and another group called the Knights of Peter Clavel (I think that's his name. I left the bulletin in the car and am too lazy to get it.) The order on the processional put the interfaith leaders right behind a group called the Knights and Ladies of the Sepulchre. Each of these groups were absolutely decked out in some incredible "uniform" finery. Tricorn-ish hats with bright feathers in them, colorful sashes, various kinds of crosses, and the honor guard came equipped with swords. And that was just the laity! Pageantry to the max!
This particular celebration included the designation of the Cathedral as a minor basillica, so there were some additional pieces that are particularly identified with basillicas - a special type of umbrella and a special bell (a tintinabulum - I think that's what it's called). Of course, there were various Catholic clergy present and involved: 3 archbishops (one who's just been designated as a cardinal) and 7 bishops, plus about 10-15 priests and deacons. Altar boys and girls, attendants from the various ethnic groups represented in the area, and music abounded.
All in all, it was an honor to be invited and I had a grand time. It was my first high mass, and, while there were things that would obviously be different, it was intriguing to see how much of what we Presbyterians do that are the same. We aren't quite as far apart as it sometimes seems. Well, except for the hierarchy and no women, and few married, priests and all that bowing and kneeling and a bit of a different understanding of just what happens when you celebrate Communion and "trespassers and those who trespass against us" instead of "debts and debtors" and, what is it about all those sacraments? *sigh* Ok - maybe a bit more than it looked on the surface, but still ...
So now for the frustration:
I just got my Roadrunner set up yesterday. All is good. It does work ... as long as I'm tethered to the cable connection. My gameplan was to set up the system for wireless. I have the router. I have the installation CD. I have very carefully followed the instructions, Oh!, 10 or so times. Is the router hooked up to the system and letting me get to the internet? NO!! Of course not!!
It seems I need a username and password. The cd doesn't tell you that the router needs to be registered before you install it. I now have a username and password. Do they work? Of course not!! I tend to be an idiot when it comes to computer hardware stuff, but this appears to be such a simple thing. Plug in, let the computer make sure it's working right, unplug this, swap out that, replug in this, hook that to the powersource, and Voila! wireless internet! Right? You'd think. So, of course, my computer guru, who understands that I'm absolute hell on working computers, isn't available to talk me through it and probably won't be in town before next weekend. *very deep sigh*
At least I had a good time this afternoon!
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
I'm HOME!
Much still to do, but I'm home!!
Please excuse the wild dancing throughout the place, but I just can't help myself. It's been over two years and I almost can't believe I made it.
There's a certain level of disarray that still exists. Mostly of the "can't do that until something else is done first" variety. I'm currently sitting on the floor, using the phone chord in the disheveled office to connect to the internet. Roadrunner and cable don't arrive until Saturday.
But this part I've been through before any time I've moved. There are curtains to put up and pictures to rehang and knick-knacks to put on their appointed shelves.
Why is it that when you move new furniture into a room for the first (or second or third) time, it never quite fits the way you expect it to? Easily solved, but a bit frustrating.
I will have to admit that this is the first time I've liked my bathroom since I moved into the house. The pink-paint-from-hell is gone (well, at least where paint is regularly visible) and I have a new mirror and light fixture. Of course, the shower stall has been replaced and looks really cool. Progress!
Now that we're here, though, I've discovered that someone apparently decided that my complete set of extended Lord of the Rings dvd's would make a nice addition to their collection. It's not definitive, yet, but they sure seem suspiciously missing. It's not like there was someone hovering around every minute to keep things from walking off, but I'm rather miffed. Harumph! At least they didn't take the dvd player, too.
In any case, I'm home! I hope I remember how to sleep in my waterbed. It's been such a long time!
Excuse me, but I think I'm going to get back to my happy dance!
Later!
Please excuse the wild dancing throughout the place, but I just can't help myself. It's been over two years and I almost can't believe I made it.
There's a certain level of disarray that still exists. Mostly of the "can't do that until something else is done first" variety. I'm currently sitting on the floor, using the phone chord in the disheveled office to connect to the internet. Roadrunner and cable don't arrive until Saturday.
But this part I've been through before any time I've moved. There are curtains to put up and pictures to rehang and knick-knacks to put on their appointed shelves.
Why is it that when you move new furniture into a room for the first (or second or third) time, it never quite fits the way you expect it to? Easily solved, but a bit frustrating.
I will have to admit that this is the first time I've liked my bathroom since I moved into the house. The pink-paint-from-hell is gone (well, at least where paint is regularly visible) and I have a new mirror and light fixture. Of course, the shower stall has been replaced and looks really cool. Progress!
Now that we're here, though, I've discovered that someone apparently decided that my complete set of extended Lord of the Rings dvd's would make a nice addition to their collection. It's not definitive, yet, but they sure seem suspiciously missing. It's not like there was someone hovering around every minute to keep things from walking off, but I'm rather miffed. Harumph! At least they didn't take the dvd player, too.
In any case, I'm home! I hope I remember how to sleep in my waterbed. It's been such a long time!
Excuse me, but I think I'm going to get back to my happy dance!
Later!
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Mental Exhaustion
Or is it physical? Or spiritual? Maybe a bit of each, perhaps.
Part of it is that I keep crashing into brick walls. Not literal ones, but the ones set up by expectations and hopes that never quite pan out, at least not yet.
Since I last posted, there have been at least three dates set for the finish-up work to be accomplished at my house. On two of those, the friend who's doing the work couldn't make it. Then yesterday, when he did come, our time was spent on all manner of things that needed to be done, but we still didn't accomplish the main task. There is progress, but it feels so infinitisimal in comparison to my desire to sleep in my own bed again that I really just want to cry. But can't. So even that feels stuck.
I look at the things that need to be finished and feel overwhelmed. Then I just tend to wander from one partial task to another.
This weekend I began to work on removing the brighter-than-Pepto-bismol pink paint from my bathroom. What started out as a semi-reasonable, but relatively simple, task quickly turned into the paint removal from hell. Did you know that there was once used something my friend called "iron paint"? Well, that's what they used in my bathroom. I used every kind of sandpaper imaginable and didn't even make a dent in the texture of the paint. My son had used a whole container of paint stripper on the stuff and had managed to get bits and pieces of it off, but not what you'd usually expect.
One frantic phone call to friend later ended up with me headed to the handy-dandy hardware store for paint deglosser. That stuff is just plain nasty! And even that didn't make a dent in it until I used steel wool on the paint to just barely score it so the deglosser could do its thing. I managed to complete the doorframe and the bathroom cabinet. Now all I have to do is degloss the cabinets under the sink, prime and then anoint that pup with two coats of paint. That's what it took to finally banish the offending color.
Perhaps my exhaustion has something to do with yesterday. I finally got the kitchen completely cleaned up. There is no more roofing soot and grime and bits and pieces of wood lurking on my appliances and counters. You wouldn't know it by looking at it, though. Within a few hours of completion, there's all kinds of crap and clutter and stuff permeating the room.
Then again, it could be the garage door that decided to come unhinged from the ceiling as the garage door opener was opening the door, and proceeded to smash one of the windows in the door ... after all the stores were closed for the night, of course. I am glad my friend was there, otherwise, I would have been completely befuddled by what to do with a garage door stuck in 3/4 open position. Sleep in the garage? I don't think so.
My friend was able to complete a temporary? fix on the garage door through a midnight run to Wally World for bolts and a garbage bag and tape concoction over the gaping hole.
My mission between now and Thursday? (A day later than I was hoping to actually sleep in my bed, btw.) Get the garage support checked out by someone who understands how the garage door works and see if I can find a "compound miter saw" - the tool which kept us from getting as far as we'd hoped. And give my feet a rest, because they've declared war on my body and ache whether they're on the ground or not.
I think I'm going to repeat a lament from two years ago - "Show me the way to go home. I'm tired and I wanna go to bed." My aching body, soul, and mind are soooooo tired.
Part of it is that I keep crashing into brick walls. Not literal ones, but the ones set up by expectations and hopes that never quite pan out, at least not yet.
Since I last posted, there have been at least three dates set for the finish-up work to be accomplished at my house. On two of those, the friend who's doing the work couldn't make it. Then yesterday, when he did come, our time was spent on all manner of things that needed to be done, but we still didn't accomplish the main task. There is progress, but it feels so infinitisimal in comparison to my desire to sleep in my own bed again that I really just want to cry. But can't. So even that feels stuck.
I look at the things that need to be finished and feel overwhelmed. Then I just tend to wander from one partial task to another.
This weekend I began to work on removing the brighter-than-Pepto-bismol pink paint from my bathroom. What started out as a semi-reasonable, but relatively simple, task quickly turned into the paint removal from hell. Did you know that there was once used something my friend called "iron paint"? Well, that's what they used in my bathroom. I used every kind of sandpaper imaginable and didn't even make a dent in the texture of the paint. My son had used a whole container of paint stripper on the stuff and had managed to get bits and pieces of it off, but not what you'd usually expect.
One frantic phone call to friend later ended up with me headed to the handy-dandy hardware store for paint deglosser. That stuff is just plain nasty! And even that didn't make a dent in it until I used steel wool on the paint to just barely score it so the deglosser could do its thing. I managed to complete the doorframe and the bathroom cabinet. Now all I have to do is degloss the cabinets under the sink, prime and then anoint that pup with two coats of paint. That's what it took to finally banish the offending color.
Perhaps my exhaustion has something to do with yesterday. I finally got the kitchen completely cleaned up. There is no more roofing soot and grime and bits and pieces of wood lurking on my appliances and counters. You wouldn't know it by looking at it, though. Within a few hours of completion, there's all kinds of crap and clutter and stuff permeating the room.
Then again, it could be the garage door that decided to come unhinged from the ceiling as the garage door opener was opening the door, and proceeded to smash one of the windows in the door ... after all the stores were closed for the night, of course. I am glad my friend was there, otherwise, I would have been completely befuddled by what to do with a garage door stuck in 3/4 open position. Sleep in the garage? I don't think so.
My friend was able to complete a temporary? fix on the garage door through a midnight run to Wally World for bolts and a garbage bag and tape concoction over the gaping hole.
My mission between now and Thursday? (A day later than I was hoping to actually sleep in my bed, btw.) Get the garage support checked out by someone who understands how the garage door works and see if I can find a "compound miter saw" - the tool which kept us from getting as far as we'd hoped. And give my feet a rest, because they've declared war on my body and ache whether they're on the ground or not.
I think I'm going to repeat a lament from two years ago - "Show me the way to go home. I'm tired and I wanna go to bed." My aching body, soul, and mind are soooooo tired.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Little by Little
Don't think I'm gonna make it. ... Back home by the 2nd anniversary of Her Horribleness' arrival in the Golden Triangle, that is.
Some progress has been made, though. My handyfriend came to town and I think we've pretty much bought everything else we need to finish the repairs inside. Well, almost. One nice piece of 1/4 round is needed to finish off the baseboard in the kitchen, and I'm sure there will be one or two more things before we're through.
All of the baseboard, chair rail, and crown molding has been painted, as well as the framing for the doorway that had to be replaced, and progress has been made in installing the baseboard in the den. I won't tell you about the piece that I managed to break as we took it back outside to trim down a bit. Turns out that some of the door framing left a nasty swath which needs to be repainted with the paint from hell. Bleah! (Especially, since there's now CARPET on the floors and I have to be really careful to not drip paint, paint tarp notwithstanding.)
Dorky moment of the day - I started tackling cleaning around the kitchen. The ventahood looked rather bedraggled, so I started in on it. Managed to pull out the light cover without much trouble. Then came the grease screen. Started to get it loosened and something tumbled onto the stove. EEK! *sheepish grin* It was just a leaf. EEK! *sheepish grin* Next came a bit of wood. EEP! *sheepish grin* Another leaf. Notice a trend here? You'd think after the first one I'd quit thinking some kind of dead/live critter wasn't falling through the hole. I finally realized it was the detrius from my previously hurricane-mangled roof, which made the balance of the cleanup a bit less exciting. *chuckle*
My handyfriend won't be able to come back until next week. *sigh* Perhaps we'll get the rest of the inside finished next time. In the meantime, I'm exhausted and headed to bed.
OOPS! Forgot to mention one moment of hilarity during our work. My working refrigerator is in the storage room in the garage, while my regular fridge is in 3 pieces waiting to be reinserted into its appropriate location. We'd stored water in the working fridge so we'd have something cool to drink. My handyfriend hollers "Water!" I'm thinking, "Well, he's closer to the fridge. Why doesn't he just walk in and get one?" Again, he hollers "Water!" So I yell back, "It's in the fridge!" He says, "No! Water! All over the floor! WATER!" Sure enough, there's this mysterious water in the storage room. Turns out the drainage pipe from my washing machine was dislodged from its comstituent parts by the installation guy and now the water drains all over my garage floor instead of into the sewage system. Not an ideal situation by any stretch of the imagination. But the miscommunication sure was funny!
Some progress has been made, though. My handyfriend came to town and I think we've pretty much bought everything else we need to finish the repairs inside. Well, almost. One nice piece of 1/4 round is needed to finish off the baseboard in the kitchen, and I'm sure there will be one or two more things before we're through.
All of the baseboard, chair rail, and crown molding has been painted, as well as the framing for the doorway that had to be replaced, and progress has been made in installing the baseboard in the den. I won't tell you about the piece that I managed to break as we took it back outside to trim down a bit. Turns out that some of the door framing left a nasty swath which needs to be repainted with the paint from hell. Bleah! (Especially, since there's now CARPET on the floors and I have to be really careful to not drip paint, paint tarp notwithstanding.)
Dorky moment of the day - I started tackling cleaning around the kitchen. The ventahood looked rather bedraggled, so I started in on it. Managed to pull out the light cover without much trouble. Then came the grease screen. Started to get it loosened and something tumbled onto the stove. EEK! *sheepish grin* It was just a leaf. EEK! *sheepish grin* Next came a bit of wood. EEP! *sheepish grin* Another leaf. Notice a trend here? You'd think after the first one I'd quit thinking some kind of dead/live critter wasn't falling through the hole. I finally realized it was the detrius from my previously hurricane-mangled roof, which made the balance of the cleanup a bit less exciting. *chuckle*
My handyfriend won't be able to come back until next week. *sigh* Perhaps we'll get the rest of the inside finished next time. In the meantime, I'm exhausted and headed to bed.
OOPS! Forgot to mention one moment of hilarity during our work. My working refrigerator is in the storage room in the garage, while my regular fridge is in 3 pieces waiting to be reinserted into its appropriate location. We'd stored water in the working fridge so we'd have something cool to drink. My handyfriend hollers "Water!" I'm thinking, "Well, he's closer to the fridge. Why doesn't he just walk in and get one?" Again, he hollers "Water!" So I yell back, "It's in the fridge!" He says, "No! Water! All over the floor! WATER!" Sure enough, there's this mysterious water in the storage room. Turns out the drainage pipe from my washing machine was dislodged from its comstituent parts by the installation guy and now the water drains all over my garage floor instead of into the sewage system. Not an ideal situation by any stretch of the imagination. But the miscommunication sure was funny!
Friday, September 14, 2007
Raising 'Cane
(Thanks, Gard!)
I had truly hoped to sleep in my own bed before (1) the NEXT hurricane blew through town and (2) the anniversary of Her Horribleness. While #1 got the best of me, there's still hope for #2. But I'm waiting to hear from my handyfriend as to whether he'll be able to make it to town this weekend or not.
By comparison, for me, Humberto was just a baby hurricane. Of course, those who experienced significant damage won't see things the same way. I truly feel for those who got clobbered this time around.
When I went to bed on Wednesday, Humberto was still just a tropical storm. The lights had flickered once or twice and the dog wasn't happy about that. But they came back on, so no one in my house was particularly concerned. Snoozin' and cruisin' was the order of the night.
That is, until the dog decided to crawl into bed with me about 3am-ish.
We still had lights, so that wasn't it. There wasn't any thunder at that point, so that wasn't it either. The rain was pattering on the roof and windows, but that usually doesn't bother her, so that wasn't it. There must have been something about the wind blowing that made the Penster decide to snuggle. She's not much of a snuggle-dog.
Finally after spending about an hour trying to calm her down, I gave up, went to the den and turned on the tv. To my vast surprise, scrolling across the bottom of the screen was "Inland hurricane warning in effect"! Hurricane! Where'd this hurricane come from? How on earth was a storm over dry land becoming a hurricane? (Ok - it was really early in the morning, so give me a break!) I'd certainly decided I'd lost my mind and was misreading what was on the screen. Then the weatherperson came onscreen and announced that Humberto had become a minimal category 1 hurricane before coming ashore somewhere around ..... at that point I quit listening.
A hurricane? Nobody'd ever said anything about a 'cane. Uhoh! I just remembered that there was a small stepladder and an empty can of paint on the back patio which should have been secured earlier. Don't worry. I didn't jump into clothes and try to go and fix it. I just fretted about it for a while.
Then the power went out, for good. So the Penster and I went back to bed, her to cower and me to console. There wasn't much else we could do at the moment.
Next thing I knew, a phone was ringing and it was 8:30am. All quiet, except for the ringing. Alllllllll quiet. No a/c. No refrigerator hum. No lights anywhere. And still no lights today.
Ah, well! The whole thing could have been significantly worse. I'm grateful that things have calmed down and there's sun on the horizon for the next couple of days. Keep your fingers crossed! I'm hoping to meet that second deadline, and it looks like it just may be possible!
I had truly hoped to sleep in my own bed before (1) the NEXT hurricane blew through town and (2) the anniversary of Her Horribleness. While #1 got the best of me, there's still hope for #2. But I'm waiting to hear from my handyfriend as to whether he'll be able to make it to town this weekend or not.
By comparison, for me, Humberto was just a baby hurricane. Of course, those who experienced significant damage won't see things the same way. I truly feel for those who got clobbered this time around.
When I went to bed on Wednesday, Humberto was still just a tropical storm. The lights had flickered once or twice and the dog wasn't happy about that. But they came back on, so no one in my house was particularly concerned. Snoozin' and cruisin' was the order of the night.
That is, until the dog decided to crawl into bed with me about 3am-ish.
We still had lights, so that wasn't it. There wasn't any thunder at that point, so that wasn't it either. The rain was pattering on the roof and windows, but that usually doesn't bother her, so that wasn't it. There must have been something about the wind blowing that made the Penster decide to snuggle. She's not much of a snuggle-dog.
Finally after spending about an hour trying to calm her down, I gave up, went to the den and turned on the tv. To my vast surprise, scrolling across the bottom of the screen was "Inland hurricane warning in effect"! Hurricane! Where'd this hurricane come from? How on earth was a storm over dry land becoming a hurricane? (Ok - it was really early in the morning, so give me a break!) I'd certainly decided I'd lost my mind and was misreading what was on the screen. Then the weatherperson came onscreen and announced that Humberto had become a minimal category 1 hurricane before coming ashore somewhere around ..... at that point I quit listening.
A hurricane? Nobody'd ever said anything about a 'cane. Uhoh! I just remembered that there was a small stepladder and an empty can of paint on the back patio which should have been secured earlier. Don't worry. I didn't jump into clothes and try to go and fix it. I just fretted about it for a while.
Then the power went out, for good. So the Penster and I went back to bed, her to cower and me to console. There wasn't much else we could do at the moment.
Next thing I knew, a phone was ringing and it was 8:30am. All quiet, except for the ringing. Alllllllll quiet. No a/c. No refrigerator hum. No lights anywhere. And still no lights today.
Ah, well! The whole thing could have been significantly worse. I'm grateful that things have calmed down and there's sun on the horizon for the next couple of days. Keep your fingers crossed! I'm hoping to meet that second deadline, and it looks like it just may be possible!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
On That Day
Much has happened since the fateful September 11th six years ago. There're so many things which seem to have taken us in a u-turn from the essential tenets of who we are meant to be as Americans. Yet that's not where I'm headed tonight.
Last night I participated in a truly incredible experience which I'm not completely certain I can put into words. For those of you who don't live in this part of the world, there's still a fair amount of prejudice; although, it has improved since the last time I lived here.
But last night ...
Religious leaders from every faith group in the area and all racial/ethnic backgrounds gathered together for a September 11 Remembrance and Peace Procession. Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, Islam, Christian of various stripes, African-American, Hispanic-American, Asian-American, male, female, formal clerical attire, casual, from all three of the major cities in the Golden Triangle area, all shared a prayer and walked together to the main fire station, the police station, and the port.
At each stop, the first responders gave a short tribute to those who have served and whose lives were lost or forever changed in the line of duty. At the port, the military headquarters (transportation group) gave a prayer for those who serve in the military and for a time when all may live in peace. The religious leaders placed a wreath there and laid palm fronds there as a symbol of the peace we prayed for.
The only prayer given by the religious leaders was this one:
"Loving God and Father, answer our prayers for a world of peace. Give us strength as we face the conflicts o our troubled world. Cleanse our minds of retaliation and help us to be instruments of your peace. Fill us with the compassion we need to overlook the hatefulness of others and enable us to be a country embraced by the grace of your teachings. We ask to share in teh task of restoring harmony and justice.
God of compassion and mercy, we pray for all the people whose lives have been changed by violence in this world. Remember, too, those who perished in the attack on America and the lives that have been lost in protecting democracy and freedom around the world. Console their families and friends with the knowledge that their loved ones will find comfort and peace in your loving arms. We put our trust in your heavenly graces. Hear our plea and grant that peace reign through the world. Amen."
Yes, I have one or two quibbles with the prayer, but, considering the context, it was a job well done. I hope the local news outlets showed that our area has an incredible diversity within it and that we can all hope and pray for peace in our world and a time when differences are embraced and not feared.
Yesterday was a very good day. What better message could we send to those who would bring pain and division to this world than the image of all of us together walking and praying for peace?
Last night I participated in a truly incredible experience which I'm not completely certain I can put into words. For those of you who don't live in this part of the world, there's still a fair amount of prejudice; although, it has improved since the last time I lived here.
But last night ...
Religious leaders from every faith group in the area and all racial/ethnic backgrounds gathered together for a September 11 Remembrance and Peace Procession. Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, Islam, Christian of various stripes, African-American, Hispanic-American, Asian-American, male, female, formal clerical attire, casual, from all three of the major cities in the Golden Triangle area, all shared a prayer and walked together to the main fire station, the police station, and the port.
At each stop, the first responders gave a short tribute to those who have served and whose lives were lost or forever changed in the line of duty. At the port, the military headquarters (transportation group) gave a prayer for those who serve in the military and for a time when all may live in peace. The religious leaders placed a wreath there and laid palm fronds there as a symbol of the peace we prayed for.
The only prayer given by the religious leaders was this one:
"Loving God and Father, answer our prayers for a world of peace. Give us strength as we face the conflicts o our troubled world. Cleanse our minds of retaliation and help us to be instruments of your peace. Fill us with the compassion we need to overlook the hatefulness of others and enable us to be a country embraced by the grace of your teachings. We ask to share in teh task of restoring harmony and justice.
God of compassion and mercy, we pray for all the people whose lives have been changed by violence in this world. Remember, too, those who perished in the attack on America and the lives that have been lost in protecting democracy and freedom around the world. Console their families and friends with the knowledge that their loved ones will find comfort and peace in your loving arms. We put our trust in your heavenly graces. Hear our plea and grant that peace reign through the world. Amen."
Yes, I have one or two quibbles with the prayer, but, considering the context, it was a job well done. I hope the local news outlets showed that our area has an incredible diversity within it and that we can all hope and pray for peace in our world and a time when differences are embraced and not feared.
Yesterday was a very good day. What better message could we send to those who would bring pain and division to this world than the image of all of us together walking and praying for peace?
Friday, September 07, 2007
A Surgery Long Overdue
That's the headline on an article in the Houston Chronicle today.
Two years ago, a young EMT and her cousin were riding down an Angelina County road when some bozoid pulls alongside them, shoots and kills the cousin, then shoots the EMT, mangling her arm. She's rushed to the hospital where they're able to save her arm. Truly wonderful! She has insurance at that point.
Fast forward to today. No job. No insurance. She gets a $900/month disability check, which is too much per month to receive medical care in Angelina County. In many Texas counties, if you earn $179/month as a single person, you make too much to qualify for indigent medical care. $179!!! That doesn't even cover housing and you're too wealthy to qualify for medical care?!?! OUTRAGEOUS!
For this young woman, her situation became visible due to an article on healthcare in the newspaper. It touched the heart of people with resources in the medical community, and yesterday she received the long delayed surgery to complete the repairs that were started after she was shot.
The original surgery was competently done. There's no malfeasance involved in her situation, at least no medical malfeasance from the outset. However, the one surgery was not sufficient to bring about the healing which might lead to her being able to train for a new career and re-enter the workforce.
So, yesterday that healing was begun. Gratis. Surgeons and hospital and rehab therapists are donating their resources to ensure this is done. HOORAY! I'm truly happy for this young woman. It's a wonderful and incredible blessing that she's receiving.
Now for a mini-rant:
What about those whose stories didn't make it into the newspaper? What about the thousands in Texas who are considered 'wealthy' when their income probably doesn't even provide even minimal necessities?
Not to malign the hospitals who provide indigent care, but why wasn't this surgery done earlier? This young woman traveled 175 miles round-trip, twice weekly, for physical therapy at a teaching hospital which provides care for those who don't qualify for the same care close to home. I applaud their assistance and the services they provide. However, if surgery was necessary for improvement, why didn't they pick up on this and offer it? (Ok - I know why, but I don't have to like it.)
Why aren't people so outraged at the state of health care that they lobby and protest and write letters to elected officials until something is done about it?
*snort* My mom is probably a prime example of why. She has really good health insurance. (So do I, for that matter.) Here's her plaint: If we go to universal health care, there'll be rationing. *one daughter tearing out hair* There already IS rationing! Those who can't afford health care are already "rationed" out of the system!
So, one injustice has been rectified. When will we tackle the others?
PS - There's a part of me which says that the bozoid who committed the crime should be personally responsible for any medical care costs of the person he damaged. Unless he was independently wealthy, I realize this could never happen. It's difficult to pay multi-thousand dollar medical bills when you're serving two life sentences in prison. So, in the balance of things, I'm just glad he's off the streets so he can't hurt anyone else.
Two years ago, a young EMT and her cousin were riding down an Angelina County road when some bozoid pulls alongside them, shoots and kills the cousin, then shoots the EMT, mangling her arm. She's rushed to the hospital where they're able to save her arm. Truly wonderful! She has insurance at that point.
Fast forward to today. No job. No insurance. She gets a $900/month disability check, which is too much per month to receive medical care in Angelina County. In many Texas counties, if you earn $179/month as a single person, you make too much to qualify for indigent medical care. $179!!! That doesn't even cover housing and you're too wealthy to qualify for medical care?!?! OUTRAGEOUS!
For this young woman, her situation became visible due to an article on healthcare in the newspaper. It touched the heart of people with resources in the medical community, and yesterday she received the long delayed surgery to complete the repairs that were started after she was shot.
The original surgery was competently done. There's no malfeasance involved in her situation, at least no medical malfeasance from the outset. However, the one surgery was not sufficient to bring about the healing which might lead to her being able to train for a new career and re-enter the workforce.
So, yesterday that healing was begun. Gratis. Surgeons and hospital and rehab therapists are donating their resources to ensure this is done. HOORAY! I'm truly happy for this young woman. It's a wonderful and incredible blessing that she's receiving.
Now for a mini-rant:
What about those whose stories didn't make it into the newspaper? What about the thousands in Texas who are considered 'wealthy' when their income probably doesn't even provide even minimal necessities?
Not to malign the hospitals who provide indigent care, but why wasn't this surgery done earlier? This young woman traveled 175 miles round-trip, twice weekly, for physical therapy at a teaching hospital which provides care for those who don't qualify for the same care close to home. I applaud their assistance and the services they provide. However, if surgery was necessary for improvement, why didn't they pick up on this and offer it? (Ok - I know why, but I don't have to like it.)
Why aren't people so outraged at the state of health care that they lobby and protest and write letters to elected officials until something is done about it?
*snort* My mom is probably a prime example of why. She has really good health insurance. (So do I, for that matter.) Here's her plaint: If we go to universal health care, there'll be rationing. *one daughter tearing out hair* There already IS rationing! Those who can't afford health care are already "rationed" out of the system!
So, one injustice has been rectified. When will we tackle the others?
PS - There's a part of me which says that the bozoid who committed the crime should be personally responsible for any medical care costs of the person he damaged. Unless he was independently wealthy, I realize this could never happen. It's difficult to pay multi-thousand dollar medical bills when you're serving two life sentences in prison. So, in the balance of things, I'm just glad he's off the streets so he can't hurt anyone else.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Flashback
Two years ago, I really needed a vacation. I'd scheduled two weeks off around Labor Day and everything was in place so I could go. Then this nasty named Katrina popped up on the horizon. By the time I was scheduled to leave, it was pretty certain the vixen wasn't headed to Beaumont and people were pouring in from the east to escape here. My competent crew was helping out with the local agencies and things were in order, so the dog, the cat, and I also headed west for a visit with my mom.
In the days to come, we (Mom and I, the dog and cat weren't particularly into tv) watched transfixed as Katrina came ashore, completed her devastation, and faded into nothingness. Original plans to visit with friends further west were put aside because traffic and gasoline costs were horrendous. The next days were spent almost paralyzed as we watched helplessly while people in New Orleans died, awaited rescue in miserable conditions, were abandoned on 24-hour national tv. One helluva way to spend a vacation.
Then the dog and I returned home. Still wrapped in a sense of the surreal, I went about my business. The cat had stayed at mom's because I had a week-long meeting to attend in a couple of weeks, so there was no sense in disrupting her catly routine twice. As I left Houston for the meeting at the appointed time, Mom had a hissy fit about an almost tropical storm that was off the coast of Florida. Our part of the world had a ridiculous high parked over it, so I wasn't worried and I left.
In a total otherworldly experience, the entire meeting from California became a watching of news reports and wondering what this second nasty named Rita would do. Again I watched helplessly as my friends, family, church members fled in long, unmoving lines while this at one point category 5 virago bore down on my home. In some respects, I've been in a bit of a fog ever since.
Then came Hurricane Dean.
I've been in an even deeper fog since the moment Southeast Texas was in even the outer edge of the cone of probability. My head said he wouldn't come our way. *shrug* My head had said that about Rita. Again I watched helplessly as Dean clobbered Jamaica and Mexico, poor areas devastated and nothing I could do.
I just realized last night that I was completely and truly trapped in a flashback as Felix came so quickly after Dean and roared up to category 5. I think I've been paralyzed for almost two weeks now, functioning more or less at the zombie level, again trapped in the helpless feelings of two years ago.
Then oddball stuff bubbled to the surface. When I do finally get into my home, it won't be the same home I left two years ago. It'll be a much better home. More completely mine, in the sense that my choices will have been imposed on it. Yet so much less mine, because it isn't the house I left two years ago and, somehow, I just want to return to THAT house, not this one. Don't know if that makes any sense, but it's what I'm feeling.
Somehow I think it's time for me to holler for help. I'm fortunate. The resources are there. Now I just have to pick up the phone and do it.
In the days to come, we (Mom and I, the dog and cat weren't particularly into tv) watched transfixed as Katrina came ashore, completed her devastation, and faded into nothingness. Original plans to visit with friends further west were put aside because traffic and gasoline costs were horrendous. The next days were spent almost paralyzed as we watched helplessly while people in New Orleans died, awaited rescue in miserable conditions, were abandoned on 24-hour national tv. One helluva way to spend a vacation.
Then the dog and I returned home. Still wrapped in a sense of the surreal, I went about my business. The cat had stayed at mom's because I had a week-long meeting to attend in a couple of weeks, so there was no sense in disrupting her catly routine twice. As I left Houston for the meeting at the appointed time, Mom had a hissy fit about an almost tropical storm that was off the coast of Florida. Our part of the world had a ridiculous high parked over it, so I wasn't worried and I left.
In a total otherworldly experience, the entire meeting from California became a watching of news reports and wondering what this second nasty named Rita would do. Again I watched helplessly as my friends, family, church members fled in long, unmoving lines while this at one point category 5 virago bore down on my home. In some respects, I've been in a bit of a fog ever since.
Then came Hurricane Dean.
I've been in an even deeper fog since the moment Southeast Texas was in even the outer edge of the cone of probability. My head said he wouldn't come our way. *shrug* My head had said that about Rita. Again I watched helplessly as Dean clobbered Jamaica and Mexico, poor areas devastated and nothing I could do.
I just realized last night that I was completely and truly trapped in a flashback as Felix came so quickly after Dean and roared up to category 5. I think I've been paralyzed for almost two weeks now, functioning more or less at the zombie level, again trapped in the helpless feelings of two years ago.
Then oddball stuff bubbled to the surface. When I do finally get into my home, it won't be the same home I left two years ago. It'll be a much better home. More completely mine, in the sense that my choices will have been imposed on it. Yet so much less mine, because it isn't the house I left two years ago and, somehow, I just want to return to THAT house, not this one. Don't know if that makes any sense, but it's what I'm feeling.
Somehow I think it's time for me to holler for help. I'm fortunate. The resources are there. Now I just have to pick up the phone and do it.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
I Really Oughta...
...turn off The Weather Channel.
Part of my semi-obsessive weather watching is legitimate. I'd like to be able to figure out when it will be safe to finish painting the exterior of my house. Doesn't look like that's going to happen any time soon. Especially since there's thunder rumbling in the background and some of those thunderstorms might actually make it here from the coast. Even if it does manage to get dry enough to paint, it'll probably be way too hot for most of the day. This task may have to wait until October.
It's also legitimate to keep up with the latest tropical updates (nothing happening at this second, but you've gotta keep your eye on ... )and see if the skies are about to break loose with a gullywasher at any moment, usually just before I walk out of the house. Weather radar is your friend. (Anyone else remember when the Weather Channel was just the local radar circling round and round with someone intermittently announcing temperatures and weather alerts?)
However, today is the 2nd anniversary of Katrina's landfall. Each time one of the segments on how bad things were and what recovery is happening and what the area has to look forward to in the future, I find myself feeling really ambivalent.
There's the angry part of me that says "All right, already! We've Katrina ... Katrina ... Katrina'd until you'd think that was the only catastrophe that happened in 2005." And I wonder if they'll do the 2-year anniversary of Rita and Wilma with the same overkill they're devoting to Katrina. Probably not.
Then I find myself hoping that they don't. The look back reminds me too much of the whole surreal experience of watching the devastation and then seeing a similar destruction head straight for our coast 3 weeks later. It's peak hurricane season, so my hypervigilance becomes even more hyper (if that's possible).
Then I end up feeling guilty because the eastern Gulf Coast took a super-major hit and you see the pictures of the devastation that is still waiting to be dealt with. Finally other parts of Louisiana and Mississippi are getting a bit of their due, yet New Orleans is still the "star".
It is encouraging to see how far things have come, as well as discouraging to see just how far they've yet to go. The mind recognizes that 10 years out may see the area looking almost as though nothing had ever happened. The heart goes out to those who are caught in limbo in the meantime. To some degree, I understand their limbo; although, certainly my limbo is nowhere as deep or long as theirs may be. And the same recovery parameters may be just as true for us as it was for those clobbered by Katrina.
Yeah. I think I oughta just turn off the tv for a while. ACK! More thunder. Maybe not.
Part of my semi-obsessive weather watching is legitimate. I'd like to be able to figure out when it will be safe to finish painting the exterior of my house. Doesn't look like that's going to happen any time soon. Especially since there's thunder rumbling in the background and some of those thunderstorms might actually make it here from the coast. Even if it does manage to get dry enough to paint, it'll probably be way too hot for most of the day. This task may have to wait until October.
It's also legitimate to keep up with the latest tropical updates (nothing happening at this second, but you've gotta keep your eye on ... )and see if the skies are about to break loose with a gullywasher at any moment, usually just before I walk out of the house. Weather radar is your friend. (Anyone else remember when the Weather Channel was just the local radar circling round and round with someone intermittently announcing temperatures and weather alerts?)
However, today is the 2nd anniversary of Katrina's landfall. Each time one of the segments on how bad things were and what recovery is happening and what the area has to look forward to in the future, I find myself feeling really ambivalent.
There's the angry part of me that says "All right, already! We've Katrina ... Katrina ... Katrina'd until you'd think that was the only catastrophe that happened in 2005." And I wonder if they'll do the 2-year anniversary of Rita and Wilma with the same overkill they're devoting to Katrina. Probably not.
Then I find myself hoping that they don't. The look back reminds me too much of the whole surreal experience of watching the devastation and then seeing a similar destruction head straight for our coast 3 weeks later. It's peak hurricane season, so my hypervigilance becomes even more hyper (if that's possible).
Then I end up feeling guilty because the eastern Gulf Coast took a super-major hit and you see the pictures of the devastation that is still waiting to be dealt with. Finally other parts of Louisiana and Mississippi are getting a bit of their due, yet New Orleans is still the "star".
It is encouraging to see how far things have come, as well as discouraging to see just how far they've yet to go. The mind recognizes that 10 years out may see the area looking almost as though nothing had ever happened. The heart goes out to those who are caught in limbo in the meantime. To some degree, I understand their limbo; although, certainly my limbo is nowhere as deep or long as theirs may be. And the same recovery parameters may be just as true for us as it was for those clobbered by Katrina.
Yeah. I think I oughta just turn off the tv for a while. ACK! More thunder. Maybe not.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Peace
It's absolutely curious as to what brings peace to my soul right now. Checking out the National Hurricane Center and discovering that:
"There are no tropical cyclones at this time"
is one of them.
Having my church members recognize the devastation wreaked by Hurricane Dean and desiring to help as they are able, at this time, through our Presbyterian Disaster Assistance program.
Watching a squirrel climb down the middle framing of the sliding glass patio door (actually, that was more of a chuckle, but there was a sense of peace - except for the dog who wasn't sure if someone/thing was breaking in or just what was happening)
... *humming* "these are a few of my favorite things"!
Would that the peace of this particular moment floods the entire earth and all war and conflict cease. *sigh* (Nope - I'm not headed back to reality and you can't make me!)
"There are no tropical cyclones at this time"
is one of them.
Having my church members recognize the devastation wreaked by Hurricane Dean and desiring to help as they are able, at this time, through our Presbyterian Disaster Assistance program.
Watching a squirrel climb down the middle framing of the sliding glass patio door (actually, that was more of a chuckle, but there was a sense of peace - except for the dog who wasn't sure if someone/thing was breaking in or just what was happening)
... *humming* "these are a few of my favorite things"!
Would that the peace of this particular moment floods the entire earth and all war and conflict cease. *sigh* (Nope - I'm not headed back to reality and you can't make me!)
Monday, August 20, 2007
Whew ... and a Prayer
*wipes brow* It appears we're going to dodge this particular bullet as Master Dean seems to have decided on a decidedly westward path.
He's still a nasty character and has caused significant damage and taken lives. Looks like he may become an even nastier character before whomping into the Yucatan Penninsula.
So - prayers arising for those in his path. We who have dodged this disaster are with you in spirit. Please do whatever you can to be safe.
He's still a nasty character and has caused significant damage and taken lives. Looks like he may become an even nastier character before whomping into the Yucatan Penninsula.
So - prayers arising for those in his path. We who have dodged this disaster are with you in spirit. Please do whatever you can to be safe.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Tropical Blues
The first Gulf-aimed hurricane of the season has arisen ... and it's a biggie!
Living along the Gulf Coast, one tends to keep the potential for hurricanes in one's peripheral vision. I find myself checking the 'Tropical Update' on The Weather Channel out of the corner of my eye each morning from June 1st onward. However, once we get to August, I shift from peripheral vision to at least one eye firmly focused on the tropical reports more than once daily. So, I'd had my eye on Dean since he was just a gleam of a possible wave off the coast of Africa.
Since Her Horribleness blew through town about two years ago, I've broadened my hurricane watching resources. In 2005, I was virtually certain that the high pressure hovering over the southeast Texas coast would send Rita skittering past us and further west, if it even turned into a hurricane at all. Wrong-o!
It would have been nice if The Weather Channel and other tv outlets had even mentioned the National Hurricane Center's concern that the high pressure system would be shoved out of the way and a low pressure system just primed to suck Rita home would take its place. I realized none of this until watching CNN News as Rita bore down on the Texas border while stuck in California.
Now I wander through the National Hurricane Center Forecast Discussions regularly. I didn't even know it existed two years ago.
So - back to the original premise of this post:
A hurricane's headed to the Gulf ... and it's a biggie!
The range of emotions has been, well, weird. There's this part of me that's hypersensitive - an almost obsessive desire to know what's going on with Dean, precisely and minute by minute. I generally get to the Forecast Discussions within 15-20 minutes of them being posted. The lag is because I want to give them a chance to have the newest stuff up before I hit the site.
There's this part of me that is a bit ecstatic about having a hurricane to track. (I know - I said this was weird.) Somehow I want to vindicate my improved tracking skills. Please don't laugh. I know hurricanes are capricious and beastly difficult for even the experts. But I've had a pretty good track record over the years and Rita got past me. That just bugs the heck out of me!
There's another part of me that's wavering in distress. I truly wanted to be able to sleep at least one night in my restored home before another monstrosity even glimpsed the mouth of the Gulf of Mexico. One moment I'm gleeful over the things that have been accomplished: all that's left for the interior to be complete is trim and touchup painting, cleaning (a bazillion loads of laundry and dishes as well as getting rid of two years worth of dust - did you really imagine that I'd cleaned house in the month before Rita hit?), and reinstalling my furniture. Then I'm plunged into despair when things foul up getting those last things done.
Then there's the flash of anger at the local paper's editoral to "just get over it!" The intelletual part of me recognizes that their reaction is simply a phase of compassion fatigue, something to be expected at this point in recovery. Yeah! I'd love for things to be back to something resembling normal. *sarcastic* Me to editorial writer, "Yep! You've got it back together, so come take over my life for a bit and I'll live yours! You want things put back together quicker? What have YOU done to help someone who's struggling? or those without the funds to make the repairs? or still on the long waiting lists to get volunteer workers to put things back together? HUH?!"
*sigh* And then there're the times when I just feel completely sapped of any energy. *chuckle* Guess you could call it a 'tropical depression'. It passes, but I'd rather do without them.
In the grand scheme of things, it's a good thing I don't chew my nails or I'd have none left (or would be working on my toenails by now).
Well, the thunder from a local storm has the dog giving me a semi-anxious look, so I guess I'll bring this to an end and go reassure her.
Any songwriters out there interested in composing a tropical blues? I'd love to hear it!
Living along the Gulf Coast, one tends to keep the potential for hurricanes in one's peripheral vision. I find myself checking the 'Tropical Update' on The Weather Channel out of the corner of my eye each morning from June 1st onward. However, once we get to August, I shift from peripheral vision to at least one eye firmly focused on the tropical reports more than once daily. So, I'd had my eye on Dean since he was just a gleam of a possible wave off the coast of Africa.
Since Her Horribleness blew through town about two years ago, I've broadened my hurricane watching resources. In 2005, I was virtually certain that the high pressure hovering over the southeast Texas coast would send Rita skittering past us and further west, if it even turned into a hurricane at all. Wrong-o!
It would have been nice if The Weather Channel and other tv outlets had even mentioned the National Hurricane Center's concern that the high pressure system would be shoved out of the way and a low pressure system just primed to suck Rita home would take its place. I realized none of this until watching CNN News as Rita bore down on the Texas border while stuck in California.
Now I wander through the National Hurricane Center Forecast Discussions regularly. I didn't even know it existed two years ago.
So - back to the original premise of this post:
A hurricane's headed to the Gulf ... and it's a biggie!
The range of emotions has been, well, weird. There's this part of me that's hypersensitive - an almost obsessive desire to know what's going on with Dean, precisely and minute by minute. I generally get to the Forecast Discussions within 15-20 minutes of them being posted. The lag is because I want to give them a chance to have the newest stuff up before I hit the site.
There's this part of me that is a bit ecstatic about having a hurricane to track. (I know - I said this was weird.) Somehow I want to vindicate my improved tracking skills. Please don't laugh. I know hurricanes are capricious and beastly difficult for even the experts. But I've had a pretty good track record over the years and Rita got past me. That just bugs the heck out of me!
There's another part of me that's wavering in distress. I truly wanted to be able to sleep at least one night in my restored home before another monstrosity even glimpsed the mouth of the Gulf of Mexico. One moment I'm gleeful over the things that have been accomplished: all that's left for the interior to be complete is trim and touchup painting, cleaning (a bazillion loads of laundry and dishes as well as getting rid of two years worth of dust - did you really imagine that I'd cleaned house in the month before Rita hit?), and reinstalling my furniture. Then I'm plunged into despair when things foul up getting those last things done.
Then there's the flash of anger at the local paper's editoral to "just get over it!" The intelletual part of me recognizes that their reaction is simply a phase of compassion fatigue, something to be expected at this point in recovery. Yeah! I'd love for things to be back to something resembling normal. *sarcastic* Me to editorial writer, "Yep! You've got it back together, so come take over my life for a bit and I'll live yours! You want things put back together quicker? What have YOU done to help someone who's struggling? or those without the funds to make the repairs? or still on the long waiting lists to get volunteer workers to put things back together? HUH?!"
*sigh* And then there're the times when I just feel completely sapped of any energy. *chuckle* Guess you could call it a 'tropical depression'. It passes, but I'd rather do without them.
In the grand scheme of things, it's a good thing I don't chew my nails or I'd have none left (or would be working on my toenails by now).
Well, the thunder from a local storm has the dog giving me a semi-anxious look, so I guess I'll bring this to an end and go reassure her.
Any songwriters out there interested in composing a tropical blues? I'd love to hear it!
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Come. On.
As I was signing offline last night, just as everything was shutting down, the AOL screen that flows through with current news announced in bold headlines:
Tropical Storm Erin Heads Ashore
As Major Storm
ARRRRRRRGH! (ummmm...that was me)
You do not describe a measly barely-a-tropical-storm as a MAJOR storm during hurricane season. MAJOR is at least a Category 3, definitely Cat 4 or 5. MAJOR means nasty winds and storm surge and the potential for some exceeding nastiness.
Sure, you watch the darned things while they're in the Gulf, 'cuz hurricanes can be sneaky beasts. Get one of them lolling over the water, stuck in one place gathering water and the like, and you may have a steamroller headed at you. But when it heads onshore? Well, if it gets stuck (like Tropical Storm Alicia did several years ago), it may lead to significant flooding. But MAJOR!?!
I like flooding just as much as the next person - not at all! However, I also am not thrilled with hype when it comes to reporting on storms. Where do you go emotionally when a mere tropical storm rates the level of a Cat 5 hysteria?
Come. On.
Tropical Storm Erin Heads Ashore
As Major Storm
ARRRRRRRGH! (ummmm...that was me)
You do not describe a measly barely-a-tropical-storm as a MAJOR storm during hurricane season. MAJOR is at least a Category 3, definitely Cat 4 or 5. MAJOR means nasty winds and storm surge and the potential for some exceeding nastiness.
Sure, you watch the darned things while they're in the Gulf, 'cuz hurricanes can be sneaky beasts. Get one of them lolling over the water, stuck in one place gathering water and the like, and you may have a steamroller headed at you. But when it heads onshore? Well, if it gets stuck (like Tropical Storm Alicia did several years ago), it may lead to significant flooding. But MAJOR!?!
I like flooding just as much as the next person - not at all! However, I also am not thrilled with hype when it comes to reporting on storms. Where do you go emotionally when a mere tropical storm rates the level of a Cat 5 hysteria?
Come. On.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Holy Sh-- Report
Reading today's local newspaper, I came across this Associated Press article, "Girl dragged behind van at boot camp". Ok - sometimes I read stuff like this, sometimes I don't. However, I glanced at the first sentence and saw this phrase "Christian boot camp"! Immediate reaction WTF!! So of course, I read the whole thing.
Apparently, a 15-year-old girl was having difficulty keeping up on a morning run. The director assigned one of the staff to run alongside of her to motivate her. When she fell, these so-called Christian bozos tied her to the back of a van and then dragged her! The name of this boot camp? Love Demonstrated Ministries.
Someone somewhere didn't get the memo ... or forgot to read the Book ... or came equipped with no brains ... or certainly wasn't willing to truly listen to and interpret what it means to demonstrate love! I'm hoping the police totally throw the book (the legal code, at least) at them and lock them up with a copy of The Book to read over and over and over, especially spending time to read what Jesus himself did to demonstrate love. It certainly didn't involve harming another human being.
Then second on the H.S. (ummmm.....that's not coming out right 'cuz it certainly wasn't the Holy Spirit) report: FEMA is only now deciding that people living in trailers after the 2005 hurricane season should vacate the premises ASAP! They've had the info in their hot little hands for about a year, but chose to sit on it. The article doesn't once mention that it's probably not a good idea to BUY the stupid trailers from FEMA, which they've been trying to sell to those living in them for about $300-$500.
Here's the kicker - There are about 45,000 trailers still in use in Louisiana alone, and they've only managed to scrounge up about 4,500 rental units for people to move into. Along the Gulf Coast, approximately 65,000 are still living in trailers. Cruise ships, anyone? Not ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but at least it would get people out of a toxic formaldehyde situation fairly quickly while FEMA/HUD work to get some viable rental property in place.
I do want to say for the record that the local FEMA workers who are still in the area have been quite sympathetic to the situation and have been advocating for a better solution whenever difficulties have been pointed out. It's the muckety-mucks who don't seem to get it.
Apparently, a 15-year-old girl was having difficulty keeping up on a morning run. The director assigned one of the staff to run alongside of her to motivate her. When she fell, these so-called Christian bozos tied her to the back of a van and then dragged her! The name of this boot camp? Love Demonstrated Ministries.
Someone somewhere didn't get the memo ... or forgot to read the Book ... or came equipped with no brains ... or certainly wasn't willing to truly listen to and interpret what it means to demonstrate love! I'm hoping the police totally throw the book (the legal code, at least) at them and lock them up with a copy of The Book to read over and over and over, especially spending time to read what Jesus himself did to demonstrate love. It certainly didn't involve harming another human being.
Then second on the H.S. (ummmm.....that's not coming out right 'cuz it certainly wasn't the Holy Spirit) report: FEMA is only now deciding that people living in trailers after the 2005 hurricane season should vacate the premises ASAP! They've had the info in their hot little hands for about a year, but chose to sit on it. The article doesn't once mention that it's probably not a good idea to BUY the stupid trailers from FEMA, which they've been trying to sell to those living in them for about $300-$500.
Here's the kicker - There are about 45,000 trailers still in use in Louisiana alone, and they've only managed to scrounge up about 4,500 rental units for people to move into. Along the Gulf Coast, approximately 65,000 are still living in trailers. Cruise ships, anyone? Not ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but at least it would get people out of a toxic formaldehyde situation fairly quickly while FEMA/HUD work to get some viable rental property in place.
I do want to say for the record that the local FEMA workers who are still in the area have been quite sympathetic to the situation and have been advocating for a better solution whenever difficulties have been pointed out. It's the muckety-mucks who don't seem to get it.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Got Your Back!
Traveling to the church today, the car in front of me sported this bumpersticker:
God has my back!
My reaction? Oh, really!!
Let's see if I've gotten this straight. To me, that bumpersticker says that God supports me in whatever I've decided to do. It runs somewhat along the line of the old bumperstickers that said "God is my co-pilot." The followup to that one is more to my liking, "If God is your co-pilot, you're in the wrong seat."
The one I saw today smacks of human-centeredness. It says that God supports my biases, my prejudices, my interpretation of scripture, my ordering of how life should be lived. It eliminates the need for discernment of God's will and the possibility that what God wills may be completely antithetical to what I happen to want or believe becomes completely irrelevant.
True, one may spend significant time and effort trying to discern what God wants us to be and do, and in the end, our decisions may be the wrong ones. It's often hard to be certain in this life, especially if what we decide is in that gray area where any response we make could be the correct one. And it can often be difficult to discern when the "tough love" of Jesus with the rich young ruler which, while it may appear and feel like cruel treatment of one in need, is the most loving and caring action one may take. How does one best emulate Jesus in loving one's neighbor as oneself? Unless we're willing to take the difficult step of loving our enemies, rather than treating them according to our personal biases, how can we be certain that God "has our back"? True faith journeys are rarely easy or so straightforward.
Of course, the individual who was driving the car may have had a different interpretation. The sticker may simply have been a statement that the driver trusts that God is present in the difficult times as well as the good, perhaps even a restatement at some level of part of the 23rd Psalm. In which case, I agree wholeheartedly! But I must confess that I fear my first interpretation is the more likely one. I only hope that I'm wrong.
God has my back!
My reaction? Oh, really!!
Let's see if I've gotten this straight. To me, that bumpersticker says that God supports me in whatever I've decided to do. It runs somewhat along the line of the old bumperstickers that said "God is my co-pilot." The followup to that one is more to my liking, "If God is your co-pilot, you're in the wrong seat."
The one I saw today smacks of human-centeredness. It says that God supports my biases, my prejudices, my interpretation of scripture, my ordering of how life should be lived. It eliminates the need for discernment of God's will and the possibility that what God wills may be completely antithetical to what I happen to want or believe becomes completely irrelevant.
True, one may spend significant time and effort trying to discern what God wants us to be and do, and in the end, our decisions may be the wrong ones. It's often hard to be certain in this life, especially if what we decide is in that gray area where any response we make could be the correct one. And it can often be difficult to discern when the "tough love" of Jesus with the rich young ruler which, while it may appear and feel like cruel treatment of one in need, is the most loving and caring action one may take. How does one best emulate Jesus in loving one's neighbor as oneself? Unless we're willing to take the difficult step of loving our enemies, rather than treating them according to our personal biases, how can we be certain that God "has our back"? True faith journeys are rarely easy or so straightforward.
Of course, the individual who was driving the car may have had a different interpretation. The sticker may simply have been a statement that the driver trusts that God is present in the difficult times as well as the good, perhaps even a restatement at some level of part of the 23rd Psalm. In which case, I agree wholeheartedly! But I must confess that I fear my first interpretation is the more likely one. I only hope that I'm wrong.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Coming up Roses!
Ahhhhhh! Good things happening. Progress. Positives. WOOHOO!
For once, something planned worked exactly like it was supposed to. The linoleum and carpet are completely installed ... and they look wonderful! The house looks liveable again.
Lotsa dust to be removed, though. Two years' worth! YIPE! But it's beginning to look like this long wandering in exile may be coming to an end.
I even felt comfortable enough with the progress to go out and buy a new washer and dryer. They're going to get quite a workout, as will the new dishwasher. What's coming next is the Spring Cleaning to end all spring cleanings. Well, not really, but you get the picture.
Next weekend comes the final touchup painting and painting and installing the trim, plus a couple of installations or so. Clean curtains, new curtains, new blinds and all sorts of fun stuff.
What bliss! To sleep in my own bed, just a few short weeks ahead. AHHHHHH! Heaven!
For once, something planned worked exactly like it was supposed to. The linoleum and carpet are completely installed ... and they look wonderful! The house looks liveable again.
Lotsa dust to be removed, though. Two years' worth! YIPE! But it's beginning to look like this long wandering in exile may be coming to an end.
I even felt comfortable enough with the progress to go out and buy a new washer and dryer. They're going to get quite a workout, as will the new dishwasher. What's coming next is the Spring Cleaning to end all spring cleanings. Well, not really, but you get the picture.
Next weekend comes the final touchup painting and painting and installing the trim, plus a couple of installations or so. Clean curtains, new curtains, new blinds and all sorts of fun stuff.
What bliss! To sleep in my own bed, just a few short weeks ahead. AHHHHHH! Heaven!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Monday, Monday
.....so good to me! Shades of The Mamas and the Papas. Now all I've gotta do is hope that it doesn't end up being one of those days I can't trust. *chuckle*
Tomorrow is linoleum (well, that's what I call it!) and perhaps a start on the carpeting. I can't believe how excited I'm feeling about this.
My son has done the floor prep and cleared up all of the dust, junk, and just plain garbage that has collected on the floors over the past two years. It's amazing how nice it looks now that that part of it is done.
My plan is to just sit in the den and figure out what color curtains to put in the room after the flooring is completed. Hmmmm.....the possibiliites are so many!
Tomorrow is linoleum (well, that's what I call it!) and perhaps a start on the carpeting. I can't believe how excited I'm feeling about this.
My son has done the floor prep and cleared up all of the dust, junk, and just plain garbage that has collected on the floors over the past two years. It's amazing how nice it looks now that that part of it is done.
My plan is to just sit in the den and figure out what color curtains to put in the room after the flooring is completed. Hmmmm.....the possibiliites are so many!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Contrary to Appearances
I have not died nor abandoned this lonely blog. Instead, I've been slogging through a slump, tired of being 'snakebit' on the repair situation, tired of rain, tired of feeling uncreative, tired of looking for solutions to problems, tired of being tired (ok - enough whining - it didn't really help. *chuckle*).
Actually, some good has transpired. I just seem to be in a sogged out place at the moment, something I learned was "normal" for about this time in disaster recovery. My trip to the mountains was uplifting (pun only slightly intended). That's where I learned more about the process of disaster recovery and hitting this particular washed-out phase of Compassion Fatigue. Knowing about it hasn't eliminated the washed-out feeling, but it has made it feel less intense. I'm "normal"! Gee, that's something I don't often get to say.
For anyone who's never been through it, or is in the midst of it and isn't quite sure what's going on, here's part of what I learned:
Apparently at somewhere around the 18 month to 2 year mark after a major disaster, compassion fatigue sets in for a time, sapping energy in general and slowing down progress.
In general, there’s a progression through the process, which may take several years. J. Eric Gentry, who co-developed a program on compassion fatigue, outlines the process something like this (this was designed for those working in the mental health field, but seems to fit a much broader cross-section of people affected by disaster):
The Zealot Phase – Idealistic: We are committed, involved, and available … ready to problem solve, ready to make a difference. We willingly put in extra hours. Our enthusiasm overflows. We volunteer. We are willing to go the extra mile and often do so without prompting. I’ll do that!
The Irritability Phase – We begin to cut corners. We begin to avoid contact. We begin to mock colleagues and others. We talk unfairly about people’s medical or mental health problems. We denigrate people’s efforts at wellness. The use of humor is sometimes strained. We day dream or become distracted when people are speaking with us. We make efforts to avoid conversations with those still recovering from disaster. Oversights, mistakes, and lapses of concentration begin to occur. We begin to distance ourselves from our friends and coworkers.
The Withdrawal Phase – Our enthusiasm turns sour and our bubble bursts. People we work with become a blur and run together. We lose our ability to see those recovering as individuals and they rather become irritants. Complaints may be made about our work and possibly there are problems in our personal life as well. We are tired all the time. We no longer wish to talk about work and may not even admit to what we do so as to avoid talking about our work. We neglect our family, our coworkers, and ourselves. Our shield gets thicker and thicker … it blocks our pain and sadness.
The Zombie Phase – Our hopelessness turns to rage. We begin to hate people … any people and all people … we even hate our coworkers if they dare question us. Others become incompetent or ignorant in our eyes. We develop a disdain for those recovering. We have no patience … we lose our sense of humor … and have no time for fun.
Transformation – "Pathology and Victimization" vs. "Maturation and Renewal" At this point, there is either a shift toward hardiness, resiliency, and transformation or the person remains stuck in the loss.
To put this into perspective, this is a process, and not necessarily a straight-line process, and takes more time than any of us ever expected it would. One of those on the Presbyterian Disaster Assistance response team who was presenting this information was pastor of a church in the area where Hurricane Andrew hit in 1992. It took seven years before she was able to be part of a response team to a hurricane area, even though she was able to assist at other disasters in the meantime.
WHEW! And here I'd figured it'd be about a year or so and things would settle in on their new normal and I'd be "over it". HAH! It's almost TWO years and I'm still not back in my home. My recovery progress will probably transpire a bit more rapidly once I'm back there, but this has provided me with some understanding of what it's like for those who won't be back in their homes for even longer, if ever.
Now - for some good news. Progress is happening on my house. The shower is almost finished and it looks awesome! (All I've gotta do now is remember to call the plumber for the finishing touches.) The front door has been installed and all it needs is painting. And I have new windows! (*furiously happy dancing*) That was the last thing I needed done before getting the carpet laid. That's scheduled for the end of this month. My handy-dandy handyfriend is planning to come do the touchup painting and trim on the 2nd weekend in August. THEN! Then I'll be able to live in my house again while finishing up the rest of the to-do list.
There is hope on the horizon. HOORAY!
Actually, some good has transpired. I just seem to be in a sogged out place at the moment, something I learned was "normal" for about this time in disaster recovery. My trip to the mountains was uplifting (pun only slightly intended). That's where I learned more about the process of disaster recovery and hitting this particular washed-out phase of Compassion Fatigue. Knowing about it hasn't eliminated the washed-out feeling, but it has made it feel less intense. I'm "normal"! Gee, that's something I don't often get to say.
For anyone who's never been through it, or is in the midst of it and isn't quite sure what's going on, here's part of what I learned:
Apparently at somewhere around the 18 month to 2 year mark after a major disaster, compassion fatigue sets in for a time, sapping energy in general and slowing down progress.
In general, there’s a progression through the process, which may take several years. J. Eric Gentry, who co-developed a program on compassion fatigue, outlines the process something like this (this was designed for those working in the mental health field, but seems to fit a much broader cross-section of people affected by disaster):
The Zealot Phase – Idealistic: We are committed, involved, and available … ready to problem solve, ready to make a difference. We willingly put in extra hours. Our enthusiasm overflows. We volunteer. We are willing to go the extra mile and often do so without prompting. I’ll do that!
The Irritability Phase – We begin to cut corners. We begin to avoid contact. We begin to mock colleagues and others. We talk unfairly about people’s medical or mental health problems. We denigrate people’s efforts at wellness. The use of humor is sometimes strained. We day dream or become distracted when people are speaking with us. We make efforts to avoid conversations with those still recovering from disaster. Oversights, mistakes, and lapses of concentration begin to occur. We begin to distance ourselves from our friends and coworkers.
The Withdrawal Phase – Our enthusiasm turns sour and our bubble bursts. People we work with become a blur and run together. We lose our ability to see those recovering as individuals and they rather become irritants. Complaints may be made about our work and possibly there are problems in our personal life as well. We are tired all the time. We no longer wish to talk about work and may not even admit to what we do so as to avoid talking about our work. We neglect our family, our coworkers, and ourselves. Our shield gets thicker and thicker … it blocks our pain and sadness.
The Zombie Phase – Our hopelessness turns to rage. We begin to hate people … any people and all people … we even hate our coworkers if they dare question us. Others become incompetent or ignorant in our eyes. We develop a disdain for those recovering. We have no patience … we lose our sense of humor … and have no time for fun.
Transformation – "Pathology and Victimization" vs. "Maturation and Renewal" At this point, there is either a shift toward hardiness, resiliency, and transformation or the person remains stuck in the loss.
To put this into perspective, this is a process, and not necessarily a straight-line process, and takes more time than any of us ever expected it would. One of those on the Presbyterian Disaster Assistance response team who was presenting this information was pastor of a church in the area where Hurricane Andrew hit in 1992. It took seven years before she was able to be part of a response team to a hurricane area, even though she was able to assist at other disasters in the meantime.
WHEW! And here I'd figured it'd be about a year or so and things would settle in on their new normal and I'd be "over it". HAH! It's almost TWO years and I'm still not back in my home. My recovery progress will probably transpire a bit more rapidly once I'm back there, but this has provided me with some understanding of what it's like for those who won't be back in their homes for even longer, if ever.
Now - for some good news. Progress is happening on my house. The shower is almost finished and it looks awesome! (All I've gotta do now is remember to call the plumber for the finishing touches.) The front door has been installed and all it needs is painting. And I have new windows! (*furiously happy dancing*) That was the last thing I needed done before getting the carpet laid. That's scheduled for the end of this month. My handy-dandy handyfriend is planning to come do the touchup painting and trim on the 2nd weekend in August. THEN! Then I'll be able to live in my house again while finishing up the rest of the to-do list.
There is hope on the horizon. HOORAY!
Monday, June 25, 2007
It Figures
*shaking head* The glass guy came today to install the glass door for my shower. Everything was going nicely. Measure Measure. Cut Cut. Zwip Zwip. Other various and assorted installation noises. Zwip Crrrrrrack! Daymn! (that last was the installer)
The glass in the door just completely shattered. A gazillion little pieces held in place by the frame. *shakes head more*
Wouldn't you know it? The first time in the guy's sixteen years installing glass shower doors and mine is the one that earns the honor.
*sigh* It'll be next week before the door is installed.
On the brighter side, my front door is being intalled this Wednesday. The oven has been fine tuned. And the dishwasher installer, who apparently didn't receive the order about installing the dishwasher, is calling me back this evening to set up an installation date.
And.........
On Wednesday, I'm headed toward mountains! Boy, do I need mountains.
The glass in the door just completely shattered. A gazillion little pieces held in place by the frame. *shakes head more*
Wouldn't you know it? The first time in the guy's sixteen years installing glass shower doors and mine is the one that earns the honor.
*sigh* It'll be next week before the door is installed.
On the brighter side, my front door is being intalled this Wednesday. The oven has been fine tuned. And the dishwasher installer, who apparently didn't receive the order about installing the dishwasher, is calling me back this evening to set up an installation date.
And.........
On Wednesday, I'm headed toward mountains! Boy, do I need mountains.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Interlude
Tomorrow I take a break. A break from juggling repairs. A break from the routine. A break from uncertainty. A break from fighting fleas (they're really bad this year). Breaks are good.
I'm headed to one of my favorite places for a Worship and Music Conference, one of my favorite things to do. For the next week I'll be in the Texas hill country near the Guadalupe River, getting to sing with a choir of about 70 people. Fun!! I'm also hoping to get to spend some time sitting in one of the natural spa spots on the river, that is, I will if the predicted rains don't turn the river into a raging torrent. (boo! hiss! no raging torrents, please!)
I'll also be away from technology for that time. Not going to say I'll be away from "civilization", because there's plenty of "civilization" where I'm going, just not much available technology (or time, actually). See ya in about a week!
I'm headed to one of my favorite places for a Worship and Music Conference, one of my favorite things to do. For the next week I'll be in the Texas hill country near the Guadalupe River, getting to sing with a choir of about 70 people. Fun!! I'm also hoping to get to spend some time sitting in one of the natural spa spots on the river, that is, I will if the predicted rains don't turn the river into a raging torrent. (boo! hiss! no raging torrents, please!)
I'll also be away from technology for that time. Not going to say I'll be away from "civilization", because there's plenty of "civilization" where I'm going, just not much available technology (or time, actually). See ya in about a week!
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
A "Pleasing" Aroma
Ahhhhh! The sweet (?) smell of progress! Not success, but at least progress. It's the sicky sweet, slightly tangy, high-inducing aroma of the epoxy-whatever-it-is adhesive used to permanently attach cultured marble to the walls, ceiling, and floor of a shower.
The installation of my shower is almost complete. Almost, that is, because of a flaw in the last piece of marble to be installed. Well, that and a minor repair to be made resulting from the demolition of the old tile. I'm so glad I went with cultured marble! My shower looks so nice now.
It is so good to see progress. I still don't know when my front door will be making its opening appearance. If things run true to form on this project, I'll get the installation call right after I leave town for a continuing ed event scheduled for next week. *chuckle*
The installation of my shower is almost complete. Almost, that is, because of a flaw in the last piece of marble to be installed. Well, that and a minor repair to be made resulting from the demolition of the old tile. I'm so glad I went with cultured marble! My shower looks so nice now.
It is so good to see progress. I still don't know when my front door will be making its opening appearance. If things run true to form on this project, I'll get the installation call right after I leave town for a continuing ed event scheduled for next week. *chuckle*
Monday, June 04, 2007
Different Celebration, Anyone?
While browsing the local internet sites to find something different to do on my birthday, I came across this:
It certainly would be different. I'm just not sure they'd want some 50-something in their audience, and don't know if I could face the rejection. *fake cringe* I'll have to admit that there's no age limit in the cattle call ... erm ... casting call. I'm also not sure I want to be a part of anything where the grammatical errors are so blatant in just a two-paragraph announcement ("formally" for "formerly" and "sang" instead of "sung"). Not to say that my grammar is perfect.
Ah, well! I may be spending my day getting the rest of the shower installed. Guess I'll look for something a little less different to celebrate the special occasion. *chuckle*
Open Casting Call
For the independent film, "Flying Solo," will be at 11 a.m. (formally Nell's Place). Volunteers will act as an audience for a staged musical comedy show. Those wishing to audition should dress in solid colored clothing with no logo's or heavy patterns. Bring bottled water and be prepared to stay and film until 5 p.m. Lunch & Refreshments will be served.
"Flying Solo" is a faith-based family film that is being produced locally with a cast and crew of volunteer local talent and Lamar students. The film is a 90-minute comedy-drama set in a small city and featuring original songs sang and composed by Reginald Cooper of the Jazz Innovators. Dances are choreographed by Winetta Roy, Tina Simpson, Danielle Brown, and Shana Logan. The story follows an aspiring singer/songwriter who relocates to Texas with her aunt and younger siblings where she is challenged to conquer her fears and follow her dreams.
It certainly would be different. I'm just not sure they'd want some 50-something in their audience, and don't know if I could face the rejection. *fake cringe* I'll have to admit that there's no age limit in the cattle call ... erm ... casting call. I'm also not sure I want to be a part of anything where the grammatical errors are so blatant in just a two-paragraph announcement ("formally" for "formerly" and "sang" instead of "sung"). Not to say that my grammar is perfect.
Ah, well! I may be spending my day getting the rest of the shower installed. Guess I'll look for something a little less different to celebrate the special occasion. *chuckle*
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Baby Steps
A couple of tiny miracles occurred this weekend:
In a frantic plea on Thursday, I asked that the rain stop for 48 hours so I could get the paint on the frame of my new sliding glass door ... and it did! The wood was dry enough for the primer yesterday evening and it stayed dry until I put the main coat on today. Then about an hour later, it began to sprinkle, almost precisely 48 hours after I made my plea.
I've also spent the last few weeks perusing appliances. The whole routine, Sunday ads, Consumer Reports reviews and recommendations, lusting after controls and cycles and whistles and bells. On Friday, after painting the primer coat, I headed to Sears to check out a range, a dishwasher, and a garage door opener. While looking around, the sales clerk came by and suggested that I look at a dishwasher he had that was a demo. Wouldn't you know it? It was the dishwasher recommended by Consumer Reports as a Best Buy for almost $150 less than retail. One appliance down, four to go!
Plus, the cultured marble guys came to the house today and did the first half of their installation. One of the crew went to the emergency room yesterday, so they couldn't do the whole thing today, but Progress! I'll take most anything at this point.
In a frantic plea on Thursday, I asked that the rain stop for 48 hours so I could get the paint on the frame of my new sliding glass door ... and it did! The wood was dry enough for the primer yesterday evening and it stayed dry until I put the main coat on today. Then about an hour later, it began to sprinkle, almost precisely 48 hours after I made my plea.
I've also spent the last few weeks perusing appliances. The whole routine, Sunday ads, Consumer Reports reviews and recommendations, lusting after controls and cycles and whistles and bells. On Friday, after painting the primer coat, I headed to Sears to check out a range, a dishwasher, and a garage door opener. While looking around, the sales clerk came by and suggested that I look at a dishwasher he had that was a demo. Wouldn't you know it? It was the dishwasher recommended by Consumer Reports as a Best Buy for almost $150 less than retail. One appliance down, four to go!
Plus, the cultured marble guys came to the house today and did the first half of their installation. One of the crew went to the emergency room yesterday, so they couldn't do the whole thing today, but Progress! I'll take most anything at this point.
Friday, June 01, 2007
A New Word
I love doing crossword puzzles, and do several throughout the course of the day. It's often intriguing to find the same word, sometimes with different clues, used by different puzzle creators on the same day. In time, you can begin to sort out which of several possibilities to try just by knowing who the puzzle author is. Generally, the puzzles start out fairly easy on Mondays, getting progressively harder through the week.
Today, one of the puzzles turned out to be a real poser (pun only slightly intended). I managed to get 3/4ths of it done, but there was one section where I just couldn't put my finger on one or two essential answers. So I hit the trusty internet and scrounged answers I thought would shed enligtenment on the remaining few blanks.
Yep! You got it! There was one which just plain turned the rest into gobble-de-garbage.
What would you have put down for a six-letter word meaning "good humored"? With a couple of spots filled with what I knew were the correct letters, I came up with 'jovial'. I already had the J and the O. But that word just didn't help me a bit when it came to the other letters. So, I continued scrounging, and learned a new word:
Jocose
I like that word! I like the way it sounds and the way it feels when you say it. I even like the way it looks on the page. There's something about it that just seems "good humored". Maybe it taps into "jocularity" and memories of Father Mulcahy on MASH saying "Jocularity! Jocularity!" I don't know. But I think I'm going to try to find a way to include it in my vocabulary whenver possible.
Today, one of the puzzles turned out to be a real poser (pun only slightly intended). I managed to get 3/4ths of it done, but there was one section where I just couldn't put my finger on one or two essential answers. So I hit the trusty internet and scrounged answers I thought would shed enligtenment on the remaining few blanks.
Yep! You got it! There was one which just plain turned the rest into gobble-de-garbage.
What would you have put down for a six-letter word meaning "good humored"? With a couple of spots filled with what I knew were the correct letters, I came up with 'jovial'. I already had the J and the O. But that word just didn't help me a bit when it came to the other letters. So, I continued scrounging, and learned a new word:
Jocose
I like that word! I like the way it sounds and the way it feels when you say it. I even like the way it looks on the page. There's something about it that just seems "good humored". Maybe it taps into "jocularity" and memories of Father Mulcahy on MASH saying "Jocularity! Jocularity!" I don't know. But I think I'm going to try to find a way to include it in my vocabulary whenver possible.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Insomnia
I guess it's not classic insomnia. I did get some sleep, just less than usual. My brain seemed to kick into high gear around 4ish this morning and just wouldn't shut up. So I decided to try something different today. I got up.
The dog isn't completely sure what's going on, but she's decided to join me wherever I happen to land. At the moment she's on the couch dealing with an itch she didn't have a few moments ago. There's some critter outside making a kind of whirring shound, sounding almost like some fairly rapid snorer enjoying a good night's sleep, with an occasional pause just to make things interesting. The only other noises, besides the thoughts rumbling around in my head, are my fingers tapping on the keyboard, the intermittent car sounds, and the idling of a train about a mile or so away.
I'm really not a morning person; although, I do occasionally enjoy watching a sunrise, especially if I'm away from home. That's not the case this morning.
There's a really cool word that I first read in one of my favorite science fiction books that describes the light at this time of day: crepuscular. It actually describes that kinda gray sorta light which happens at dawn and dusk, where things are just becoming visible out of the darkness or are just fading into the night. The author used it in conjunction with filming an historical vampire movie at that time of day just before the sun rose while things are eerily foggy and mysterious.
Crepuscular. Good word for this morning, especially since I'm sitting here feeling a bit gloomy and hoping that the predicted rain decides not to transpire. I really need the wood around my new sliding glass door to dry out so I can paint it. I've been trying to paint it ever since a week ago Monday, but the days I've been in town have also been rain days. *sigh* I'm not painting wet wood! But it's just so frustrating, and a bit depressing, that I've not been able to get that done.
I think I'm going to just sit and listen to the critters a bit longer. There's a bird who's decided to add a chirp to the morning's chorus, and a mourning dove or two who've joined the melody. Maybe the dog snoring on the floor might entice my eyelids back to sleep. I've an hour or two before I have to be anywhere or do anything. *yawn* G'night.
The dog isn't completely sure what's going on, but she's decided to join me wherever I happen to land. At the moment she's on the couch dealing with an itch she didn't have a few moments ago. There's some critter outside making a kind of whirring shound, sounding almost like some fairly rapid snorer enjoying a good night's sleep, with an occasional pause just to make things interesting. The only other noises, besides the thoughts rumbling around in my head, are my fingers tapping on the keyboard, the intermittent car sounds, and the idling of a train about a mile or so away.
I'm really not a morning person; although, I do occasionally enjoy watching a sunrise, especially if I'm away from home. That's not the case this morning.
There's a really cool word that I first read in one of my favorite science fiction books that describes the light at this time of day: crepuscular. It actually describes that kinda gray sorta light which happens at dawn and dusk, where things are just becoming visible out of the darkness or are just fading into the night. The author used it in conjunction with filming an historical vampire movie at that time of day just before the sun rose while things are eerily foggy and mysterious.
Crepuscular. Good word for this morning, especially since I'm sitting here feeling a bit gloomy and hoping that the predicted rain decides not to transpire. I really need the wood around my new sliding glass door to dry out so I can paint it. I've been trying to paint it ever since a week ago Monday, but the days I've been in town have also been rain days. *sigh* I'm not painting wet wood! But it's just so frustrating, and a bit depressing, that I've not been able to get that done.
I think I'm going to just sit and listen to the critters a bit longer. There's a bird who's decided to add a chirp to the morning's chorus, and a mourning dove or two who've joined the melody. Maybe the dog snoring on the floor might entice my eyelids back to sleep. I've an hour or two before I have to be anywhere or do anything. *yawn* G'night.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
The Winner and Champeen ...
They certainly don't make them like they used to.
Today the plumber came to the house to move the drain from its current location to the place it needs to be for the marble installation to proceed. To pull this feat off, it was necessary to cut through the old pipe and install a new section of pipe from the drain's new location to the old underground drainage system. Easy, you'd think, right?
Not if the original pipe is cast iron!
It ultimately took two strong men and four diamond saw blades to successfully cut through the pipe to remove the section!
Winner and Champeen? The men, but only by referee's decision. *chuckle*
It's good to know the underpinnings of the house are sturdily built. A major blessing when things are working right, bit of a curse if there's a problem.
Next up - concrete in the shower! I suspect this bout will be just a bit easier.
Today the plumber came to the house to move the drain from its current location to the place it needs to be for the marble installation to proceed. To pull this feat off, it was necessary to cut through the old pipe and install a new section of pipe from the drain's new location to the old underground drainage system. Easy, you'd think, right?
Not if the original pipe is cast iron!
It ultimately took two strong men and four diamond saw blades to successfully cut through the pipe to remove the section!
Winner and Champeen? The men, but only by referee's decision. *chuckle*
It's good to know the underpinnings of the house are sturdily built. A major blessing when things are working right, bit of a curse if there's a problem.
Next up - concrete in the shower! I suspect this bout will be just a bit easier.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Probably Christmas?
Please forgive me if the blog becomes a reconstruction rant for the next few weeks. Getting back into my house truly isn't the only thing on my mind, but it's certainly at the top of the list at the moment. And an especially frustrating item on the list at that.
When last we met, I was looking at about a two week delay to get someone to repair the rotted wood in my now dismantled shower. Thanks to my blessed handyman church member that problem has been rectified. He did an awesome job in fixing up the nasty looking studs and that shower ain't a-gonna be moving anywhere any time in the near or distant future! I couldn't have asked for a better resolution to that difficulty.
But then .....
The plumber's jackhammer guy came to the house and pounded the crap out of the concrete in the shower. After much chipping away, it was discovered that there's something weird about the way the original builder installed the shower foundation. The jackhammer guy consulted one of the owners. The owner stood there and scratched his head while trying to figure out how the heck to do the necessary plumbing so the marble can be installed. Totally perplexed, he left, still scratching his head. The jackhammer guy packed up his gear and headed off for the day.
Fortunately, the plumber did come up with a possible solution. Which meant the jackhammer guy had to come back the next day and pound some more crap out of the concrete. I may now have a permanent headache. *chuckle* Today, the plumber's supposed to come back to the house to do the plumbing work and then re-concrete the shower floor. He's not called yet, so I don't know when he's coming.
Ok - that was the good stuff. At least there will be some progress soon on the shower.
Then today started. I get a call about 7:30am telling me there'd been a cancellation on the schedule and the door installer would be able to come and install my doors today! Woohoo! Get the doors in and the shower fixed and the carpet/vinyl could go in only slightly off-schedule. Right? (wait for it)
WRONG!!
Turns out the guy who measured the doors and did the estimate on the installation mismeasured the front door. Two weeks to get the door reordered and back in. Then the installation has to be rescheduled. *sigh* Perhaps I'll be able to live in my house by Christmas.
The sliding glass door was installed, though. So that was a positive. But the weirdnesses associated with this house never seem to end. When the installer began the replacement, he discovered that the brick threshhold was an add-on which ended up serving the purpose of providing a most excellent source of unwanted moisture to the wooden portion of the threshhold, thus nicely rotting out the door's support. He chipped and levered the bricks out of their track, and now I have a 6-8" by 6-foot by 4-5" trough to be filled with concrete to level things up with the patio.
Maybe if the plumbing concrete guy comes by while the weather's still good, he might be willing to add my interesting trough to the indoor task. *pleads pitifully*
I am beginning to wonder why delays of 2-3 weeks keep popping into the picture. So, I'm going to get a window company that's been advertising in the paper to give me an estimate on replacing the rest of my windows. If it's not an unreasonable price and the timing of installation is right, I may go ahead and do that before getting the carpet and vinyl installed. Maybe in the interest of energy efficiency, and eliminating as many weirdnesses as possible while the house is still a torn-up mess, I ought to go ahead and finish things off. If it's not going to delay things by more than they are already delayed, then ... well, it's something to think about (and quickly!)
Here's hoping to something earlier than Christmas!
When last we met, I was looking at about a two week delay to get someone to repair the rotted wood in my now dismantled shower. Thanks to my blessed handyman church member that problem has been rectified. He did an awesome job in fixing up the nasty looking studs and that shower ain't a-gonna be moving anywhere any time in the near or distant future! I couldn't have asked for a better resolution to that difficulty.
But then .....
The plumber's jackhammer guy came to the house and pounded the crap out of the concrete in the shower. After much chipping away, it was discovered that there's something weird about the way the original builder installed the shower foundation. The jackhammer guy consulted one of the owners. The owner stood there and scratched his head while trying to figure out how the heck to do the necessary plumbing so the marble can be installed. Totally perplexed, he left, still scratching his head. The jackhammer guy packed up his gear and headed off for the day.
Fortunately, the plumber did come up with a possible solution. Which meant the jackhammer guy had to come back the next day and pound some more crap out of the concrete. I may now have a permanent headache. *chuckle* Today, the plumber's supposed to come back to the house to do the plumbing work and then re-concrete the shower floor. He's not called yet, so I don't know when he's coming.
Ok - that was the good stuff. At least there will be some progress soon on the shower.
Then today started. I get a call about 7:30am telling me there'd been a cancellation on the schedule and the door installer would be able to come and install my doors today! Woohoo! Get the doors in and the shower fixed and the carpet/vinyl could go in only slightly off-schedule. Right? (wait for it)
WRONG!!
Turns out the guy who measured the doors and did the estimate on the installation mismeasured the front door. Two weeks to get the door reordered and back in. Then the installation has to be rescheduled. *sigh* Perhaps I'll be able to live in my house by Christmas.
The sliding glass door was installed, though. So that was a positive. But the weirdnesses associated with this house never seem to end. When the installer began the replacement, he discovered that the brick threshhold was an add-on which ended up serving the purpose of providing a most excellent source of unwanted moisture to the wooden portion of the threshhold, thus nicely rotting out the door's support. He chipped and levered the bricks out of their track, and now I have a 6-8" by 6-foot by 4-5" trough to be filled with concrete to level things up with the patio.
Maybe if the plumbing concrete guy comes by while the weather's still good, he might be willing to add my interesting trough to the indoor task. *pleads pitifully*
I am beginning to wonder why delays of 2-3 weeks keep popping into the picture. So, I'm going to get a window company that's been advertising in the paper to give me an estimate on replacing the rest of my windows. If it's not an unreasonable price and the timing of installation is right, I may go ahead and do that before getting the carpet and vinyl installed. Maybe in the interest of energy efficiency, and eliminating as many weirdnesses as possible while the house is still a torn-up mess, I ought to go ahead and finish things off. If it's not going to delay things by more than they are already delayed, then ... well, it's something to think about (and quickly!)
Here's hoping to something earlier than Christmas!
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
I Oughta Know Better By Now
You'd think I'd learn. I do it to myself every time. At least I'm consistent.
Here I was getting all excited about work being scheduled for Her Horribleness repairs. This week, the cultured marble people were to tear out the yucky tile. They did. One task down. Then today the plumber was supposed to come over and replace the shower pan and redo the plumbing fixtures in the shower and in my bathtub. He did. However, he wasn't able to finish everything.
For one thing, apparently the drain has to be moved and, of course, it's set in concrete. Literally! That means a jackhammer person has to come by and smash out the old stuff. Since we didn't know about that until today, there wasn't anyone with a jackhammer available today to come and do the work. *sigh* Perhaps tomorrow.
Unfortunately, there's another problem that's even worse. When the marble people did their thing, they discovered that the wood framing in the shower was seriously rotted. ACK! Now I have to replace the wood before the plumber and the marble people can finish their jobs. This additional task is going to take a contractor. Guess who doesn't have a contractor readily available. ... You've got it!
So I tapped my congregational handyperson, and his contacts say "about two weeks" before someone's available. Two Weeks!! ARGH!! And that's just before the shower stuff can be completed.
Then I have to get the linoleum and carpet put in. I'd had it scheduled for next week. Now it's been postponed.
Here I was hoping that the flooring could be installed next week, the touchup painting and trim/baseboards/etc. finished Memorial Day weekend, and light fixtures, curtains, ceiling fan, and the like put back together and cleaned up shortly thereafter, with a move-back-in date by no later than my birthday in June. *double sigh*
Now it's maybe by July 4th? Labor Day? Thanksgiving? Christmas? OK - I'll do my best to not get totally pessimistic. *whine* I just want to sleep in my own bed. */whine*
Here I was getting all excited about work being scheduled for Her Horribleness repairs. This week, the cultured marble people were to tear out the yucky tile. They did. One task down. Then today the plumber was supposed to come over and replace the shower pan and redo the plumbing fixtures in the shower and in my bathtub. He did. However, he wasn't able to finish everything.
For one thing, apparently the drain has to be moved and, of course, it's set in concrete. Literally! That means a jackhammer person has to come by and smash out the old stuff. Since we didn't know about that until today, there wasn't anyone with a jackhammer available today to come and do the work. *sigh* Perhaps tomorrow.
Unfortunately, there's another problem that's even worse. When the marble people did their thing, they discovered that the wood framing in the shower was seriously rotted. ACK! Now I have to replace the wood before the plumber and the marble people can finish their jobs. This additional task is going to take a contractor. Guess who doesn't have a contractor readily available. ... You've got it!
So I tapped my congregational handyperson, and his contacts say "about two weeks" before someone's available. Two Weeks!! ARGH!! And that's just before the shower stuff can be completed.
Then I have to get the linoleum and carpet put in. I'd had it scheduled for next week. Now it's been postponed.
Here I was hoping that the flooring could be installed next week, the touchup painting and trim/baseboards/etc. finished Memorial Day weekend, and light fixtures, curtains, ceiling fan, and the like put back together and cleaned up shortly thereafter, with a move-back-in date by no later than my birthday in June. *double sigh*
Now it's maybe by July 4th? Labor Day? Thanksgiving? Christmas? OK - I'll do my best to not get totally pessimistic. *whine* I just want to sleep in my own bed. */whine*
Monday, May 14, 2007
Pomp ... and Circumstance
It's 100% official! The boy ..... oops! Ahem! The Man has attained his initial goal - a college diploma. This past Saturday he put on cap, gown, and tassel; waited in line and through the formalities; handed the card with his name on it to the Dean, and walked across the stage to shake the college president's hand and get the empty diploma cover signifying completion of his degree requirements (the actual diploma had arrived in January); then returned to his seat for the completion of the graduation rite. Pictures were taken (although not of his 'non-traditional' footwear) and we were through. I'm so proud of him!
Graduation had its quirks. Since the school only does one graduation ceremony each year, there were many people and not enough seats. People came early and saved not just a few seats, but rows for those who weren't there yet (and, for the most part, didn't arrive until just as the graduation began). Then as soon as their graduate made it across the stage, they rose 'en masse' and left! I probably wouldn't have been quite so upset by this, except that they did it when my son was getting ready to cross the stage and I now have a picture of heads and backs instead of my son. I'm hoping the school photographer's picture comes out ok.
I guess it's traditional for the commencement address to consist of every graduation cliche in the book. It did. It's also traditional for names to be mangled. They were, just not the students' names, and there were some doozies. *chuckle* In the grand scheme of things, I'm glad my son was scheduled for the morning graduation instead of the afternoon one. Standing room only doesn't begin to describe the afternoon crowd.
We followed up the ceremony with the family's traditional meal of the graduate's choice, then he left to spend some time with friends and to get some much needed sleep (if possible). And now he's headed off to California to start work on Wednesday. Good job, my son! I'm sure you'll end up accomplishing whatever you put your heart to. Godspeed, my son!
Graduation had its quirks. Since the school only does one graduation ceremony each year, there were many people and not enough seats. People came early and saved not just a few seats, but rows for those who weren't there yet (and, for the most part, didn't arrive until just as the graduation began). Then as soon as their graduate made it across the stage, they rose 'en masse' and left! I probably wouldn't have been quite so upset by this, except that they did it when my son was getting ready to cross the stage and I now have a picture of heads and backs instead of my son. I'm hoping the school photographer's picture comes out ok.
I guess it's traditional for the commencement address to consist of every graduation cliche in the book. It did. It's also traditional for names to be mangled. They were, just not the students' names, and there were some doozies. *chuckle* In the grand scheme of things, I'm glad my son was scheduled for the morning graduation instead of the afternoon one. Standing room only doesn't begin to describe the afternoon crowd.
We followed up the ceremony with the family's traditional meal of the graduate's choice, then he left to spend some time with friends and to get some much needed sleep (if possible). And now he's headed off to California to start work on Wednesday. Good job, my son! I'm sure you'll end up accomplishing whatever you put your heart to. Godspeed, my son!
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Ay Yi Yi Yi
*sung* I miss San Ju-an!
The return home (for at least a few days) was accomplished yesterday, and I'm already wishing I were back. Friendly people. Beautiful surroundings. Gasoline for about $2.25/gallon (once converted from metric). I was even beginning to remember a bit more Spanish, though I was nowhere close to keeping up with conversations, much less thinking in it.
There's a brightness to the area which doesn't exist here. Okay, since Her Horribleness blew through, there are one or two houses around here that have, shall we say?, unique paint colors on them, but the vast majority of us have wandered back into the realm of "studied bland". While I refused to return to the same neutral beige, I couldn't quite bring myself to go over the edge into something truly different like aqua or lavender or brilliant yellow. Wouldn't have been able to get away with that in San Juan! Lime green! Hot pink! Blazing orange! Purple! (hmmmm.... couldn't have used that as a color suggestion during the kitchen remodeling at church if I'd lived in San Juan.) The brighter, the better. Of course, there were places painted white and grayed with age, but the area as a whole was vibrant with color!
Here's a pic of the Presbyterian Church located near the Governor's Mansion:
Their folkloric dance is bright and creative, as you might guess. On Thursday, a group of us went to watch a free performance of their more contemporary dance history, which included salsa and the mamba. On Saturday, we went back for a taste of their older dances, which are blended with the Spanish influence and that of Africa. Wonderful! And the music and musicians were a delight!
The return home (for at least a few days) was accomplished yesterday, and I'm already wishing I were back. Friendly people. Beautiful surroundings. Gasoline for about $2.25/gallon (once converted from metric). I was even beginning to remember a bit more Spanish, though I was nowhere close to keeping up with conversations, much less thinking in it.
There's a brightness to the area which doesn't exist here. Okay, since Her Horribleness blew through, there are one or two houses around here that have, shall we say?, unique paint colors on them, but the vast majority of us have wandered back into the realm of "studied bland". While I refused to return to the same neutral beige, I couldn't quite bring myself to go over the edge into something truly different like aqua or lavender or brilliant yellow. Wouldn't have been able to get away with that in San Juan! Lime green! Hot pink! Blazing orange! Purple! (hmmmm.... couldn't have used that as a color suggestion during the kitchen remodeling at church if I'd lived in San Juan.) The brighter, the better. Of course, there were places painted white and grayed with age, but the area as a whole was vibrant with color!
Here's a pic of the Presbyterian Church located near the Governor's Mansion:
El Morro
Their folkloric dance is bright and creative, as you might guess. On Thursday, a group of us went to watch a free performance of their more contemporary dance history, which included salsa and the mamba. On Saturday, we went back for a taste of their older dances, which are blended with the Spanish influence and that of Africa. Wonderful! And the music and musicians were a delight!
Do you like plantains? It's a central part of the diet and is available in some form at almost every meal. While mofongo is pretty bland (to my taste), I really liked the sweet plantains a lot! I often get accused of not being particularly adventurous in my eating, and it's sorta true. So I wandered onto the wild side, for me, and tried something different at each meal. I will have to admit, though, that I couldn't bring myself to eat cabrito.
And, while I'm not particularly into alcoholic beverages, it was impossible to not visit the Bacardi Rum facility. An interesting experience. Next time you're in San Juan, take the tour. It's free, and you get two tickets to taste some of the various rum drinks. I tried the mojito ... not my cup of rum. And sipped a bit of peach rum. Better, but I have a feeling it's an acquired taste. *shiver* And, of course, you must see the drunken palm tree! (Well, not really, but I thought it was appropriate. *chuckle*)
Casa Bacardi
One visit we made was to a local worship service at the church our committee member attends. It was in Spanish, but we had an interpreter. I didn't quite get all of it, but managed to understand bits of it, even in Spanish. The pastor invited one of my compatriots to give a welcome on behalf of the committee and then asked me (!!!!!) to give the benediction. I very wisely did not attempt anything in Spanish, even though they had a benediction printed in their bulletin. One of the fascinating things to me was the building: the doors had no glass in them! Summer, winter, spring, fall - it's open to the elements. The eaves are apparently wide enough to keep those nasty horizontal rains from getting in, but still ...
All in all, in spite of having to take a break for our meeting, it was a very good trip. I can't wait to go back! And next time, I'll be sure to make plans for seeing the Camuy Caverns, the Arecibo Observatory, the Rain Forest, .... maybe next time, I'll plan to stay a bit longer. Adios!
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Dateline: San Juan
After hectically wrapping up a myriad of details, and a short nasty bout with the 24-hour virus that's been running around, I made it out of town and took the "scenic route" to the hotel where I stayed last night so I could get up before God to get to Intercontinental Airport. After a miserable night because someone nearby left their poor pooch to bark his/her head off all night, I made it to the airport without getting lost. Quite a feat for the directionally challenged! While I ordinarily hate Intercontinental, this morning's excursion managed to go without a hitch. Shoot! Even my connecting flight was nearby and on time!
The flight into San Juan was beautiful! I wish I'd remembered I had my camera in my purse. The view from the air was awesome! Green lush hills (mountains? It's hard to tell from that high up.). The water varying shades of blue. Incredible white beaches. I think I'm in love!
So what did I do first? Ate lunch, then crashed! About the time I got to the hotel, it began raining ... and rained ... and rained. Not a problem! Flying normally wipes me out, and it's worse when I don't sleep well the night before. A nice long nap did the trick, and I believe I'm ready for some sightseeing tomorrow. There are several places I'd like to go, but am not sure where I'll head first. I love caves and there are apparently some wonderful ones a day-trip's ride away, but don't know whether I'll be able to pull that one off. Maybe Sunday.
I'll have to admit it's an interesting experience being someplace where Spanish is the primary language. I know a little bit from all those years of Spanish in intermediate and high school and college. The problem is that each year we started at the beginning, so I know the alphabet real well. *chuckle* Helps immensely! Clicked onto Blogger and what did I find? It automatically translated the whole thing into Spanish. ACK! Panic! .... Saw a link on the front page that said "en ingles" and remembered that much Spanish and clicked ... Found another link, in English, about translating into various languages. WHEW! Glad I didn't have to manage in Spanish for this. Wouldn't have made it past the first sentence!
Can't wait to see what tomorrow has in store!
The flight into San Juan was beautiful! I wish I'd remembered I had my camera in my purse. The view from the air was awesome! Green lush hills (mountains? It's hard to tell from that high up.). The water varying shades of blue. Incredible white beaches. I think I'm in love!
So what did I do first? Ate lunch, then crashed! About the time I got to the hotel, it began raining ... and rained ... and rained. Not a problem! Flying normally wipes me out, and it's worse when I don't sleep well the night before. A nice long nap did the trick, and I believe I'm ready for some sightseeing tomorrow. There are several places I'd like to go, but am not sure where I'll head first. I love caves and there are apparently some wonderful ones a day-trip's ride away, but don't know whether I'll be able to pull that one off. Maybe Sunday.
I'll have to admit it's an interesting experience being someplace where Spanish is the primary language. I know a little bit from all those years of Spanish in intermediate and high school and college. The problem is that each year we started at the beginning, so I know the alphabet real well. *chuckle* Helps immensely! Clicked onto Blogger and what did I find? It automatically translated the whole thing into Spanish. ACK! Panic! .... Saw a link on the front page that said "en ingles" and remembered that much Spanish and clicked ... Found another link, in English, about translating into various languages. WHEW! Glad I didn't have to manage in Spanish for this. Wouldn't have made it past the first sentence!
Can't wait to see what tomorrow has in store!
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Perception
Last night, while at a function for area Presbyterian women, I overheard a portion of a conversation which struck me kinda odd. One woman was talking about spending time at a second home they owned out in west Texas. In the course of the conversation, she mentioned that she was so glad to be back in Beaumont because things were so green and lush around here and so dry and brown out there. It wasn't that long ago that everyone in the Golden Triangle area was devastated because of how bare things looked after the hurricane.
Isn't it amazing how quickly our perceptions can change?
Isn't it amazing how quickly our perceptions can change?
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Comment on a Comment
A friend of mine left this comment on another site:
I don't think our world will ever know peace in our lifetime. It's sad but true. We've taken away so may values that are needed for peace that my generation the one that's causing all the violence may never stop. We need to go back to the little things like opening the doors for strangers, saying ma'am and sir. Put things like prayer and the pledge of allegiance back in school. All opinions set aside the fact is the generations before mine weren't as violent, I hate to see what kind of people come out of younger generations. It just seems like when we said prayer's and the pledge of allegiance, when we didn't have violent video games, when our parents could spank us for being bad, when we had to earn/work for the money that bought the newest set of legos the world was a better place.
Here's my comment on her comment:
Peace in our lifetime? You're right. It won't happen. I fear it is part of the human condition for violence to exist somewhere in the world at all times. However, I would not put the lack of peace at the feet of your generation. Violence has existed in some form or fashion since Cain killed Abel.
It has nothing whatsoever to do with whether there is prayer in schools or the Pledge of Allegiance is said daily.
To put things into perspective, when I was growing up, the war in Vietnam was escalating and the Cold War was really heating up. In the early 60's, there was a very real concern that global thermonuclear war would break out to the destruction of all humanity. When I was a teenager, there were several protest groups who chose to use violence as a way to get their message across - American terrorists, if you will. Hijackings were happening left and right. Serial killers whose rampages were televised across the nation, and the first of the school shooters, Charles Whitman, killed 16 people and wounded 31 at the University of Texas in 1966. (Oh! and btw, we had a prayer/devotional and said the pledge daily.)
It seems to me that part of the sense of escalating violence in the world today is due to the ubiquitous nature of the public news system which exists 24/7. If you must find something to televise or fill your website around the clock, then even the first hint of a violent situation ends up filling hours of airtime, over and over again. The technology, and the fact that there were only 3-4 broadcast stations for so many years, did not lend themselves to "all the news, all the time". Even so, when something like the serial killer who came through Beaumont in the early 80's and raped and killed the mother of two of the children at the day care center where I worked, it was carried on the news with breaking news updates as new information was available, up to and including the final minutes when the police trapped him at the Canadian border and killed him when he wouldn't surrender.
As a result, those mentally ill individuals who perpetrate such violent acts as what happened at Virginia Tech this week take advantage of the situation to gain their few minutes of fame, even to committing suicide in a national forum. From their deluded point of view, they will live on in infamy and will leave this life at the pinnacle of their notoriety. Just look at all of the copycat attempts which began to pop up across the country this past week. In this environment of heightened awareness, even a failed attempt gains a visibility which the attacker would not otherwise have.
As to prayer in the schools, it still exists. Just think of all the frantic praying which happens as the test you've not prepared adequately for is handed out or the presentation you're uncertain about is about to start! What has changed is that the schools no longer sponsor the prayers of a particular religion. Look at it this way, what if you (or your child) were Christian in a system where every day the prayer of the day was Buddhist or Hindu or Islamic? That was the concern of our founding parents when freedom of religion was established in our Constitution. Our country has never been completely one religious faith (note that Thomas Jefferson included a Koran in his library) and is designed to honor the faiths of all her peoples.
I'm of the opinion that our behavior tends to operate on a long, slow pendulum and goes from periods of limited violence to extreme violence over time. If you do some historical digging, you'll find that even in colonial times, the adults were concerned about the deteriorating behavior of the younger generation, noting coarse language and coarser behaviors occurring. In time, the behavior gets out of hand and society begins to apply correctives.
As to spanking children, I believe that violence begets violence. What is of significance is that inappropriate behavior receive appropriate consequences. Spanking teaches that it is all right for a significantly larger, more powerful person to inflict damage on the smaller and weaker.
Violent video games are a whole 'nother kettle of fish. I truly wrestle with this one. There's this part of me which says playing these games inures one to the actual harm being inflicted on another, if such action were to happen in real life. Yet if such were so, my generation would be equally involved in the same level of violence as yours (and probably is if you take a measured look at the violence in our world globally), since we were exposed regularly to the violence of cartoons, westerns, the Three Stooges, and war movies. We seem to believe that the same media which advertises in order to get us to buy various and sundry products is not capable of influencing our behavior when it comes to inflicting harm on others. The jury's still out on this one.
Helping others, treating others with respect, living within our means and treating ourselves with respect, well, I think those are part of that pendulum swing I mentioned earlier. I believe there will come a point (and I think we're getting close to reaching it) when the majority of people will be fed up with the way we treat each other and a new level of respect and building community will be started. It won't look quite exactly the way it did 60, 80, 100 years ago, but it will fit our time and our situation. If each of us keeps doing our part toward making the world a better place, the pendulum will swing a bit faster. Nope, we won't achieve peace throughout the world, but our little corner of it will probably become a bit nicer.
I don't think our world will ever know peace in our lifetime. It's sad but true. We've taken away so may values that are needed for peace that my generation the one that's causing all the violence may never stop. We need to go back to the little things like opening the doors for strangers, saying ma'am and sir. Put things like prayer and the pledge of allegiance back in school. All opinions set aside the fact is the generations before mine weren't as violent, I hate to see what kind of people come out of younger generations. It just seems like when we said prayer's and the pledge of allegiance, when we didn't have violent video games, when our parents could spank us for being bad, when we had to earn/work for the money that bought the newest set of legos the world was a better place.
Here's my comment on her comment:
Peace in our lifetime? You're right. It won't happen. I fear it is part of the human condition for violence to exist somewhere in the world at all times. However, I would not put the lack of peace at the feet of your generation. Violence has existed in some form or fashion since Cain killed Abel.
It has nothing whatsoever to do with whether there is prayer in schools or the Pledge of Allegiance is said daily.
To put things into perspective, when I was growing up, the war in Vietnam was escalating and the Cold War was really heating up. In the early 60's, there was a very real concern that global thermonuclear war would break out to the destruction of all humanity. When I was a teenager, there were several protest groups who chose to use violence as a way to get their message across - American terrorists, if you will. Hijackings were happening left and right. Serial killers whose rampages were televised across the nation, and the first of the school shooters, Charles Whitman, killed 16 people and wounded 31 at the University of Texas in 1966. (Oh! and btw, we had a prayer/devotional and said the pledge daily.)
It seems to me that part of the sense of escalating violence in the world today is due to the ubiquitous nature of the public news system which exists 24/7. If you must find something to televise or fill your website around the clock, then even the first hint of a violent situation ends up filling hours of airtime, over and over again. The technology, and the fact that there were only 3-4 broadcast stations for so many years, did not lend themselves to "all the news, all the time". Even so, when something like the serial killer who came through Beaumont in the early 80's and raped and killed the mother of two of the children at the day care center where I worked, it was carried on the news with breaking news updates as new information was available, up to and including the final minutes when the police trapped him at the Canadian border and killed him when he wouldn't surrender.
As a result, those mentally ill individuals who perpetrate such violent acts as what happened at Virginia Tech this week take advantage of the situation to gain their few minutes of fame, even to committing suicide in a national forum. From their deluded point of view, they will live on in infamy and will leave this life at the pinnacle of their notoriety. Just look at all of the copycat attempts which began to pop up across the country this past week. In this environment of heightened awareness, even a failed attempt gains a visibility which the attacker would not otherwise have.
As to prayer in the schools, it still exists. Just think of all the frantic praying which happens as the test you've not prepared adequately for is handed out or the presentation you're uncertain about is about to start! What has changed is that the schools no longer sponsor the prayers of a particular religion. Look at it this way, what if you (or your child) were Christian in a system where every day the prayer of the day was Buddhist or Hindu or Islamic? That was the concern of our founding parents when freedom of religion was established in our Constitution. Our country has never been completely one religious faith (note that Thomas Jefferson included a Koran in his library) and is designed to honor the faiths of all her peoples.
I'm of the opinion that our behavior tends to operate on a long, slow pendulum and goes from periods of limited violence to extreme violence over time. If you do some historical digging, you'll find that even in colonial times, the adults were concerned about the deteriorating behavior of the younger generation, noting coarse language and coarser behaviors occurring. In time, the behavior gets out of hand and society begins to apply correctives.
As to spanking children, I believe that violence begets violence. What is of significance is that inappropriate behavior receive appropriate consequences. Spanking teaches that it is all right for a significantly larger, more powerful person to inflict damage on the smaller and weaker.
Violent video games are a whole 'nother kettle of fish. I truly wrestle with this one. There's this part of me which says playing these games inures one to the actual harm being inflicted on another, if such action were to happen in real life. Yet if such were so, my generation would be equally involved in the same level of violence as yours (and probably is if you take a measured look at the violence in our world globally), since we were exposed regularly to the violence of cartoons, westerns, the Three Stooges, and war movies. We seem to believe that the same media which advertises in order to get us to buy various and sundry products is not capable of influencing our behavior when it comes to inflicting harm on others. The jury's still out on this one.
Helping others, treating others with respect, living within our means and treating ourselves with respect, well, I think those are part of that pendulum swing I mentioned earlier. I believe there will come a point (and I think we're getting close to reaching it) when the majority of people will be fed up with the way we treat each other and a new level of respect and building community will be started. It won't look quite exactly the way it did 60, 80, 100 years ago, but it will fit our time and our situation. If each of us keeps doing our part toward making the world a better place, the pendulum will swing a bit faster. Nope, we won't achieve peace throughout the world, but our little corner of it will probably become a bit nicer.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
In the News
Has it really been almost 2 weeks since last I posted? Guess so! Things got a bit busy, what with the son-ly person heading to California right after Easter and meetings and recuperating and house repair and all. Then, most of this week, I was at our presbytery's annual post-Easter clergy retreat - sans electronics (mostly). It was a truly good and much needed break, filled with laughter and naps and good food and healing.
Then we had to return to the real world. I ache for the families and friends of those who died at Virginia Tech, yes, even the shooter's family. The repercussions, the video, the commentary seem to reverbrate unceasingly. There is so much that is incomprehensible, which boggles the mind. What is it about the time period around April 19th? So many vile and incomprehensible experiences seem to have that date in near proximity. Is there something in the air that makes people snap? Is it just coincidence? Who knows?
And now, there are potential copycats popping up in communities across the country. Or is it just that we're more aware of them now that we have Virginia Tech in our range of vision daily? So far, security has been sufficient to avert the attackers or keep the carnage to a minimum (ack! I hate to think this way.). There's this part of me which wants to take every person who might remotely even consider taking up weapons and harming people and locking them away in an appropriate mental institution for treatment, and then forcing them to take the meds or do whatever it takes to keep such violence from occurring again. But then, how do you determine who those persons might be? So, what else can we, should we, must we do? Even if we were to ratchet down on access to guns, someone in Cho's state of mind would find some other way to perpetrate violence against others (and ultimately him/herself). There are no easy answers to this one. *sigh*
On Thursday, Mom and I buried KittKat in her backyard, a good place in the sun near where the birds and squirrels used to drive PsychoKat nuts. Then the dog promptly dug KittKat's box back up. Just being a dog. I guess she wanted to nibble KittKat's neck, just like she used to.
Housely progress is occuring. The appropriately sized check from the insurance arrived during the week, so I ordered and scheduled the shower repairs yesterday and went to schedule the door replacement today. Dead and dying tree removal is scheduled for Monday. People are coming to finish up the exterior painting and fix the fence sometime next week. WOOHOO!! But I'm not going to get too excited or predict a move-in date. I'm afraid something else will come along and trip me up, if I do.
Well, it's time to get ready for tomorrow, bulletin to prepare, sermon to write, clothes to wash (a favorite pasttime *she said sarcastically*). Prayers for healing continue rising, and may the world find some way to be filled with peace.
Then we had to return to the real world. I ache for the families and friends of those who died at Virginia Tech, yes, even the shooter's family. The repercussions, the video, the commentary seem to reverbrate unceasingly. There is so much that is incomprehensible, which boggles the mind. What is it about the time period around April 19th? So many vile and incomprehensible experiences seem to have that date in near proximity. Is there something in the air that makes people snap? Is it just coincidence? Who knows?
And now, there are potential copycats popping up in communities across the country. Or is it just that we're more aware of them now that we have Virginia Tech in our range of vision daily? So far, security has been sufficient to avert the attackers or keep the carnage to a minimum (ack! I hate to think this way.). There's this part of me which wants to take every person who might remotely even consider taking up weapons and harming people and locking them away in an appropriate mental institution for treatment, and then forcing them to take the meds or do whatever it takes to keep such violence from occurring again. But then, how do you determine who those persons might be? So, what else can we, should we, must we do? Even if we were to ratchet down on access to guns, someone in Cho's state of mind would find some other way to perpetrate violence against others (and ultimately him/herself). There are no easy answers to this one. *sigh*
On Thursday, Mom and I buried KittKat in her backyard, a good place in the sun near where the birds and squirrels used to drive PsychoKat nuts. Then the dog promptly dug KittKat's box back up. Just being a dog. I guess she wanted to nibble KittKat's neck, just like she used to.
Housely progress is occuring. The appropriately sized check from the insurance arrived during the week, so I ordered and scheduled the shower repairs yesterday and went to schedule the door replacement today. Dead and dying tree removal is scheduled for Monday. People are coming to finish up the exterior painting and fix the fence sometime next week. WOOHOO!! But I'm not going to get too excited or predict a move-in date. I'm afraid something else will come along and trip me up, if I do.
Well, it's time to get ready for tomorrow, bulletin to prepare, sermon to write, clothes to wash (a favorite pasttime *she said sarcastically*). Prayers for healing continue rising, and may the world find some way to be filled with peace.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Chronology of a Hellacious Week
I generally love Holy Week. It's a hard week for pastors if you do any of the extra worship services, but there's something about following Jesus and the disciples from the triumphal entry to Jerusalem through the Last Supper to the crucifixion to the dark waiting hours to the Resurrection which is so enriching.
This past Holy Week, however, was the week from hell.
Monday started out just fine. I had a lot to accomplish, but it was a glorious day and I wasn't rushed to get anything done. Then Mom called to tell me my cat was sick. At the time, I wasn't particularly worried. Cats, like people, sometimes get stomach viruses, so you just give it some time and it goes away. Mom doesn't do "sick cat" very well, so I got periodic semi-frantic calls during the day.
On Tuesday, Mom called in the morning to say that KittKat wasn't doing any better. I had things I had to do, but some of them could be done from Houston, so I told Mom to call the vet and I'd be in town about 3pm. Rush to office, fight computer there, but got the two things that had to be done on Tuesday finished, then headed to Houston, while frantically trying to locate a pianist who could play for our Wednesday choir rehearsal and Maundy Thursday service, since our current pianist had to work those nights. Fortunately, that mission was accomplished by the time I reached Winnie.
Now, I figured it would be just a short jaunt, so didn't make any plans to stay overnight. WRONG! The vet hydrated KittKat, gave her something to calm her stomach, drew blood, and told us to watch her to see how she's doing. Did I mention that Mom doesn't do "sick cat" very well? So I spent the night in case we had to catch the cat in the morning.
On Wednesday, KittKat looked a bit better and was claiming the high ground again. The test results didn't show anything dire, so I returned home. Or that is, returned to the church to put together the bulletins for Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday. Managed to get Thursday and Saturday finished, but the printer ran out of ink before I could print Sunday's bulletins. Choir practice went well, but nothing was certain about the brass ensemble.
On Thursday, I get a phone message that my choir accompanist probably wouldn't be able to be at worship on Sunday. ACK! This means that the brass ensemble has fallen apart as well, since two of the accompanist's family members were in the ensemble. DOUBLE ACK! Call the organist, who will gladly play for the choir, but that still leaves me in a bind about the Easter fanfare. About 4:30, my mom calls to say KittKat's doing worse, and I encourage her to take her to the vet ASAP. About 5:00, I get the call asking me about putting her down. Maundy Thursday service starts at 6:00. Needless to say, the Maundy Thursday service was a tough one. Then my son decides that there won't be a fanfare for Easter and wants to take the 'safe' route by getting the organist to play a prelude. I'd already told the organist 3 times that he wouldn't need a prelude, so had a minor meltdown to go along with the horrible day I was already having. My son decided that he'd do something brassy for Easter. (Thanks, son!)
On Friday, I arrive at church with printer cartridges to finish up the bulletins, and the printer completely craps out. It won't even let me put the new cartridge in. At this point, I still have the Good Friday meditation on "I thirst" to complete. Throwing my hands up in the air, I head to the house, write most of my meditation (and then get stumped on how to end it).
In the afternoon, I meet with my church member who was helping me get the lilies we needed for Sunday ... except the place where we were to get them was out! ACK! Took a detour to buy a new printer, then headed on the prowl for lilies. We managed to find 7 at one place and took them back to the church. My member was going to continue the hunt, while I got ready for the Good Friday service. We get to the church and she has a flat tire. A very flat tire. *sigh*
On Saturday, I head to the church to finish those unfinished bulletins. Install the new printer without too much difficulty. Print out the bulletins, only to discover that our old printer settings wouldn't work on the new printer. Thinking I'd made all the necessary changes, I began copying Sunday's main bulletin. Oops! WRONG AGAIN! In order to get the stupid thing to format correctly, I had to completely redo the bulletin. Thank God for cut and paste! I didn't have to actually type everything, just a few hunks of it.
My lily-finding church member managed to scrounge up enough lilies and they arrived at the church, so that was ready for the grand procession on Sunday morning.
Getting ready for the Easter vigil, I suddenly couldn't find the small candles we use at Christmas. It didn't help any that the weather had turned horrendous on Saturday and the temperature was heading toward the basement. The vigil starts outside with the lighting of new fire, so we could light those candles I couldn't find. If we had to move that inside, the fire alarm system would go off. Not a good plan. Someone else managed to find the candles and we had our fire-starter stand just outside the door to get that going. After that, the service went well.
Headed home, then to eat with the son, then to finish up the sunrise service and our regular worship service before heading to bed. Hit the pillows about 1am (not bad for me, actually) with the alarm clock set for 5:45am. That's right, people! A.M.!
I woke up at 6:38am - eight minutes after the sunrise service was to start! I don't think I'll repeat the language used at that point. Fortunately, because the weather was still yucky, not many people showed up for the service. I cried. Then headed home to get ready for the main service.
When I returned to church, the sun came out and it was a glorious morning. My son and his trombone-playing compatriot met to see if they could put something fanfare-y together for the prelude, and went through about a half-dozen pieces before getting something they could both play. The organist arrived. The choir rehearsed. And we went through the service without any hitches, unless you count the ingenious youth who managed to 'do the impossible' during my time with young disciples. But then, resurrection is impossible, too, so I managed to make that fly.
While I wouldn't want another hellacious week for Holy Week in the future, I will say this for it: it's the first Easter Sunday since I began as a minister where I have truly been able to relax and enjoy the worship service. In the grand scheme of things, it could have been much worse.
This past Holy Week, however, was the week from hell.
Monday started out just fine. I had a lot to accomplish, but it was a glorious day and I wasn't rushed to get anything done. Then Mom called to tell me my cat was sick. At the time, I wasn't particularly worried. Cats, like people, sometimes get stomach viruses, so you just give it some time and it goes away. Mom doesn't do "sick cat" very well, so I got periodic semi-frantic calls during the day.
On Tuesday, Mom called in the morning to say that KittKat wasn't doing any better. I had things I had to do, but some of them could be done from Houston, so I told Mom to call the vet and I'd be in town about 3pm. Rush to office, fight computer there, but got the two things that had to be done on Tuesday finished, then headed to Houston, while frantically trying to locate a pianist who could play for our Wednesday choir rehearsal and Maundy Thursday service, since our current pianist had to work those nights. Fortunately, that mission was accomplished by the time I reached Winnie.
Now, I figured it would be just a short jaunt, so didn't make any plans to stay overnight. WRONG! The vet hydrated KittKat, gave her something to calm her stomach, drew blood, and told us to watch her to see how she's doing. Did I mention that Mom doesn't do "sick cat" very well? So I spent the night in case we had to catch the cat in the morning.
On Wednesday, KittKat looked a bit better and was claiming the high ground again. The test results didn't show anything dire, so I returned home. Or that is, returned to the church to put together the bulletins for Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday. Managed to get Thursday and Saturday finished, but the printer ran out of ink before I could print Sunday's bulletins. Choir practice went well, but nothing was certain about the brass ensemble.
On Thursday, I get a phone message that my choir accompanist probably wouldn't be able to be at worship on Sunday. ACK! This means that the brass ensemble has fallen apart as well, since two of the accompanist's family members were in the ensemble. DOUBLE ACK! Call the organist, who will gladly play for the choir, but that still leaves me in a bind about the Easter fanfare. About 4:30, my mom calls to say KittKat's doing worse, and I encourage her to take her to the vet ASAP. About 5:00, I get the call asking me about putting her down. Maundy Thursday service starts at 6:00. Needless to say, the Maundy Thursday service was a tough one. Then my son decides that there won't be a fanfare for Easter and wants to take the 'safe' route by getting the organist to play a prelude. I'd already told the organist 3 times that he wouldn't need a prelude, so had a minor meltdown to go along with the horrible day I was already having. My son decided that he'd do something brassy for Easter. (Thanks, son!)
On Friday, I arrive at church with printer cartridges to finish up the bulletins, and the printer completely craps out. It won't even let me put the new cartridge in. At this point, I still have the Good Friday meditation on "I thirst" to complete. Throwing my hands up in the air, I head to the house, write most of my meditation (and then get stumped on how to end it).
In the afternoon, I meet with my church member who was helping me get the lilies we needed for Sunday ... except the place where we were to get them was out! ACK! Took a detour to buy a new printer, then headed on the prowl for lilies. We managed to find 7 at one place and took them back to the church. My member was going to continue the hunt, while I got ready for the Good Friday service. We get to the church and she has a flat tire. A very flat tire. *sigh*
On Saturday, I head to the church to finish those unfinished bulletins. Install the new printer without too much difficulty. Print out the bulletins, only to discover that our old printer settings wouldn't work on the new printer. Thinking I'd made all the necessary changes, I began copying Sunday's main bulletin. Oops! WRONG AGAIN! In order to get the stupid thing to format correctly, I had to completely redo the bulletin. Thank God for cut and paste! I didn't have to actually type everything, just a few hunks of it.
My lily-finding church member managed to scrounge up enough lilies and they arrived at the church, so that was ready for the grand procession on Sunday morning.
Getting ready for the Easter vigil, I suddenly couldn't find the small candles we use at Christmas. It didn't help any that the weather had turned horrendous on Saturday and the temperature was heading toward the basement. The vigil starts outside with the lighting of new fire, so we could light those candles I couldn't find. If we had to move that inside, the fire alarm system would go off. Not a good plan. Someone else managed to find the candles and we had our fire-starter stand just outside the door to get that going. After that, the service went well.
Headed home, then to eat with the son, then to finish up the sunrise service and our regular worship service before heading to bed. Hit the pillows about 1am (not bad for me, actually) with the alarm clock set for 5:45am. That's right, people! A.M.!
I woke up at 6:38am - eight minutes after the sunrise service was to start! I don't think I'll repeat the language used at that point. Fortunately, because the weather was still yucky, not many people showed up for the service. I cried. Then headed home to get ready for the main service.
When I returned to church, the sun came out and it was a glorious morning. My son and his trombone-playing compatriot met to see if they could put something fanfare-y together for the prelude, and went through about a half-dozen pieces before getting something they could both play. The organist arrived. The choir rehearsed. And we went through the service without any hitches, unless you count the ingenious youth who managed to 'do the impossible' during my time with young disciples. But then, resurrection is impossible, too, so I managed to make that fly.
While I wouldn't want another hellacious week for Holy Week in the future, I will say this for it: it's the first Easter Sunday since I began as a minister where I have truly been able to relax and enjoy the worship service. In the grand scheme of things, it could have been much worse.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Requiem for a Kat
She was a little stray, probably abandoned as a kitten. Some friends found her and rescued her when she somehow managed to climb her way into the cabinet of their rv. I brought her home about eight years ago.
She had an interesting miaow, so I named her KittKat, 'cuz she meowed in skat There was always something a little bit skittish about her. The Great Idabel Ice Storm at Christmas, 1999, which happened a couple of weeks after she was spayed, discombibilated her. A tree limb poked its way through the roof, and she and the dog spent the night there alone that first night. After the storm, she gained a new name - PsychoKat.
She never did handle change very well. When we moved, and were down to the last stuff before packing dog and cat into the car to head south, my son was packing some of his things away. He came into the living room with a startled sound in his voice, "She hissed at me! That cat hissed at me!" Apparently, KittKat decided that my son was responsible for all of the current chaos in her life.
She used to play with the dog, attack her, then flop on the floor for the dog to nibble her neck. Her favorite places were up high, so she could look down on things. She never did quite figure out sliding glass doors. She'd sit looking out the window, then attempt to attack something on the outside, clonking her head.
Before Her Horribleness roared through in 2005, cat, dog, and I went to Houston for vacation. I had a few days back home, then a week long trip to make, so I left KittKat at Mom's. She never made it back home.
KittKat was fine until Monday. On Monday, she started vomiting and couldn't stop. The vet gave her some fluids and stuff to calm the vomiting, which helped a bit. Blood tests revealed only that she was dehydrated. The tests didn't reveal why. She got a bit better, but wasn't interested in eating and wouldn't drink. Today she began vomiting again - green stuff.
If she'd been here with me, I would have tried a bit long. But Mom couldn't handle it, and I couldn't make it to Houston to get her. The vet thought her heart was enlarged, since she was breathing kind of rough, too. (What scaredy-kat doesn't breathe weirdly when out of her environment?) So this afternoon, I agreed to put her to sleep.
I don't know if I made the right decision, but it was the only one I could see at that moment. Right now, it just hurts.
So - here's to KittKat, who kept me company and 'talked' to me in the mornings and made me laugh. Goodbye, little friend.
I think I'm going to go and cry some more.
She had an interesting miaow, so I named her KittKat, 'cuz she meowed in skat There was always something a little bit skittish about her. The Great Idabel Ice Storm at Christmas, 1999, which happened a couple of weeks after she was spayed, discombibilated her. A tree limb poked its way through the roof, and she and the dog spent the night there alone that first night. After the storm, she gained a new name - PsychoKat.
She never did handle change very well. When we moved, and were down to the last stuff before packing dog and cat into the car to head south, my son was packing some of his things away. He came into the living room with a startled sound in his voice, "She hissed at me! That cat hissed at me!" Apparently, KittKat decided that my son was responsible for all of the current chaos in her life.
She used to play with the dog, attack her, then flop on the floor for the dog to nibble her neck. Her favorite places were up high, so she could look down on things. She never did quite figure out sliding glass doors. She'd sit looking out the window, then attempt to attack something on the outside, clonking her head.
Before Her Horribleness roared through in 2005, cat, dog, and I went to Houston for vacation. I had a few days back home, then a week long trip to make, so I left KittKat at Mom's. She never made it back home.
KittKat was fine until Monday. On Monday, she started vomiting and couldn't stop. The vet gave her some fluids and stuff to calm the vomiting, which helped a bit. Blood tests revealed only that she was dehydrated. The tests didn't reveal why. She got a bit better, but wasn't interested in eating and wouldn't drink. Today she began vomiting again - green stuff.
If she'd been here with me, I would have tried a bit long. But Mom couldn't handle it, and I couldn't make it to Houston to get her. The vet thought her heart was enlarged, since she was breathing kind of rough, too. (What scaredy-kat doesn't breathe weirdly when out of her environment?) So this afternoon, I agreed to put her to sleep.
I don't know if I made the right decision, but it was the only one I could see at that moment. Right now, it just hurts.
So - here's to KittKat, who kept me company and 'talked' to me in the mornings and made me laugh. Goodbye, little friend.
I think I'm going to go and cry some more.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Outraged
In today's Beaumont Enterprise, one of the editorials is by an out-of-state pundit who writes about the "lessons" learned in the process of getting a bazillion pine cones removed from his yard. Mark Rutledge contracts with his six-year-old daughter to pick up the pine cones at 5 cents per cone, partly because he wants to teach his daughter about the value of earning one's money upon learning that she's gleaned about $90 via birthdays and tooth fairy and other sundry non-employment income.
After a bit of nudging, she gets down to the task and ultimately rakes in about 300 pine cones, or $15 worth. In Rutledge's view, that's a bit too much money for a first-grader to earn (based on his own memories of it taking a bit longer for him to earn that much money as a child). So, he asks her how much money she has and learns she's already in possession of $92. Then he makes this offer: "Tell you what, I can pay you a nickel a pine cone like we talked about. Or I can give you enough money so that you've got an even hundred." What six-year-old wouldn't think the even hundred would be the better deal?
Here's what I emailed him:
Dear Mr. Rutledge,
I believe you are very lucky your daughter hasn't learned how to multiply yet. I'm hoping she doesn't remember this experience when she does. If so, she'll realize that you swindled her out of $7.00, legitimately earned, I might add. You made a verbal contract with her to pay 5 cents per pine cone. In that contract, you did not stipulate any limits. Then, when the total came to more than what you wanted to pay, you pulled a bait and switch on her, based on the fact that she probably wouldn't be able to figure out that you actually owed her a heck of a lot more (from a child's point of view).
What you did was unconscionable. There was no way a six-year old would be able to calculate the difference between 5 cents per pine cone and "enough money so that you've got an even hundred", and you, as an adult, knew it. You took advantage of your child and should be ashamed of yourself. She did the work she contracted to do, admittedly very much like a six-year old with moaning and groaning along the way, but she did the work. Can you imagine the lesson you would have taught her if you had given her the $15? Just think of how hard she might work in the future if she'd gotten the just reward that she'd earned - for just a little bit of extra effort, my time is worth $15! Wow! Who'd ever have imagined that?
Isn't this the reason we established child labor laws, so that our children wouldn't be taken advantage of? I'm still seeing red!
After a bit of nudging, she gets down to the task and ultimately rakes in about 300 pine cones, or $15 worth. In Rutledge's view, that's a bit too much money for a first-grader to earn (based on his own memories of it taking a bit longer for him to earn that much money as a child). So, he asks her how much money she has and learns she's already in possession of $92. Then he makes this offer: "Tell you what, I can pay you a nickel a pine cone like we talked about. Or I can give you enough money so that you've got an even hundred." What six-year-old wouldn't think the even hundred would be the better deal?
Here's what I emailed him:
Dear Mr. Rutledge,
I believe you are very lucky your daughter hasn't learned how to multiply yet. I'm hoping she doesn't remember this experience when she does. If so, she'll realize that you swindled her out of $7.00, legitimately earned, I might add. You made a verbal contract with her to pay 5 cents per pine cone. In that contract, you did not stipulate any limits. Then, when the total came to more than what you wanted to pay, you pulled a bait and switch on her, based on the fact that she probably wouldn't be able to figure out that you actually owed her a heck of a lot more (from a child's point of view).
What you did was unconscionable. There was no way a six-year old would be able to calculate the difference between 5 cents per pine cone and "enough money so that you've got an even hundred", and you, as an adult, knew it. You took advantage of your child and should be ashamed of yourself. She did the work she contracted to do, admittedly very much like a six-year old with moaning and groaning along the way, but she did the work. Can you imagine the lesson you would have taught her if you had given her the $15? Just think of how hard she might work in the future if she'd gotten the just reward that she'd earned - for just a little bit of extra effort, my time is worth $15! Wow! Who'd ever have imagined that?
Isn't this the reason we established child labor laws, so that our children wouldn't be taken advantage of? I'm still seeing red!
Monday, April 02, 2007
Slightly Absurd
Kick Off Earth Day
That's the subject line of an email from Sojourners Magazine. In case you don't know, Sojourners provides "progressive Christian commentary on faith, politics and culture". I get e-updates on various issues regularly. Today is no exception and that's what the subject line said.
Where'd my brain go this morning? I immediately began a list of people I'd like to kick off Earth, and wondered what the date of this wonderful event would be.
After a few names, I realized it was about preparing for Earth Day. Oops!
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