I am not (necessarily) looking to upgrade my cell phone. Then again, I wasn't looking to upgrade when I upgraded to the one I have now. And, to be perfectly honest, these HTC Bell smartphones are whispering softly in my ear:
"Aw, come on. You know you want to."
Now, I just have to remind everyone - I don't have a smartphone. I have a phone that thinks it's pretty intelligent; that really wants to be a smartphone, when it grows up. So, some of the features on this HTC® Incredible S™, while {yawn} old hat to those with an SP, do cause me to drool ... just a little bit.
And, when you add in that (depending on the service plan) I could get it for FREE!, it occurs to me that I just might have to move to Canada.
Okay, I can't say for sure that it's this, particular Redmax blower that's blasting away leaves and grass clippings. But it sure looks like it.
[Continue Reading ...]
See, I always thought that blowers were the greatest lawn care device since the lawn mower. Why rake and pile-up and gather all those clippings (and leaves), when you can just blow them into the neighbor's yard? At least, that was the argument I tried with my mom.
She didn't buy it either.
Around here, the lawn service uses their blowers to get the clippings out of the rocks and off the sidewalk. How they gather them up, after that, I have no idea. (New-mown grass makes me sneeze, so I keep the doors and windows closed when I hear that noise.)
They used to come around and 'dust' the walkway in front of the apartments; blew all that debris off to heaven-knows where. It certainly saved me a lot of broom time. Which is another great reason to have a blower.
Who wants to spend all that time sweeping off the sidewalk? Not me! I spent summer Saturdays clearing the walk and the drive, and the back patio and steps.
The state of Arizona is constantly upping the punishment on smokers. Granted, the tobacco taxes here aren't quite as bad as New York and Washington state, but not for lack of trying: The brand we smoke (only because it's one of the cheapest we can find in the area) just went up $0.50 last week.
Things are a little less taxing for cigar smokers. Arizona adds about $0.22 per cigar, according to what I could find online. And, unless you smoke a lot of cigars, you aren't gonna touch the gazillon-per-pack they've levied on cigarettes.
Of course there are those extras that us cigarette puffers don't need: cutter, humidor, carrying case, humidifier, hygrometer. Give us a book of matches and an empty tuna can, and we're good to go.
But don't tell Arizona - they'll find a way to increase the tax on matches and tuna.
The first product in our new line of Happiness is this great shopping bag.
I firmly believe in reusable bags - keeps plastic out of the landfill and, in some states, is the only way you can get your groceries out of the store. Plus, it's really, really cute.
[Continue Reading ...]
There is no such thing as too many tank tops. But, should this be a little too ... little for your taste, there are 50+ shirt styles available.
Although this shirt says, "Happiness Is - Chocolate ... Anything," whatever makes you happy is fair game. When you click on the page, the first thing you'll notice is a little personalization box on the right.
Simply type in what makes you happy - chocolate, a shoe sale, 10 days in Fiji - and that's what will print on your Happiness shirt.
This may seem like a silly idea, but stay with me here. What are your personal joys:
"Happiness Is" A Frosty Mug, A Cuppa Java, No Rings on My Table, Sleeping in on Monday - whatever it is, there is no reason to not put it on a coaster.
Heck, at your house Happiness may be having a matching set of coasters. {wink, wink; nod, nod}
Frankly, I don't think we've - even remotely - seen the last of this little guy. He's just too cute and there are far too many places that he can (and will) pop up.
I have learned, in the last couple of days, that there are certain phrases that one should never say - or think. They are the Killer Karmic Quartet. A bit like the myriad versions of Murphy's Laws, on a much grander scale.
No matter how innocent one's intentions, or casual the reference, speaking these words or giving them thought - putting them out in the Karmic Universe - will cause an immediate response. In the opposite direction.
I Never Get Sick
A couple of days ago, this was me. The exact thought was "Wow, I haven't actually been sick in a very long time." {Boom!}
If you recall, just last week I swore that I wasn't going to miss SOC Sunday in April. Logic would tell you that an oath like that is just tempting Fate. And Logic would be right.
Again - Karma slapped me down and did it with amazing speed. (See: I Never Get Sick )
It Can't Get Any Worse / It's Gotta Get Better
Wrong! grasshopper. It can get worse and it doesn't have to get better. Especially if you've uttered or thought those words in direct relation to something your kid(s) have just done.
Then, it'll get a lot worse.
Wow! Computer's Really Humming Along
This is the killer of all Killer Karmic Phrases.
At the very least, the computer will now freeze up - like a small pond in Alaska in January. It will not save your files. It will not respond to any other words, deeds, keystrokes, or frantic prayers.
Put a fork in it. It's done.
I'd love to offer words of hope and wisdom. But I haven't been this sick in a long time, have missed all of my recent deadlines, have developed a migraine to go with the stomach bug, and I think my laptop picked up a virus.
This was a concept that made me shake my head and snort in derision: a PS3 headset. Then, I started thinking about it.
If you've ever spent any time in the room with a fully-engaged gamer, you'll appreciate being able to route all of that noise through a headset. When you get right down to it - it could save someone's life.
When Mark was sick, he'd crawl into bed - every night (and day) - and fire up his favorite game. For weeks, months, years - music and dialog screamed through my dreams. In fact, You are wrong! has become a permanent part of our vocabulary.
From a gamer standpoint (and when you aren't one, it's hard to give a ... care), headsets are bound to offer better sound quality than most TV speakers. If nothing else, having dialog and directions beamed directly into the brain improves game play and reaction times. Or so I've been assured. (Okay, beamed may be my take on it.)
What I didn't think of, since we've never used a game system online, is that there is a lot of chatting involved in some of these games. Apparently, with a headset, one can literally talk with fellow players and team members. Interactivity on a major scale.
Not sure that's a great idea for us, though. It's one thing to tune out lilting music. Quite another to tune out the old man screaming "Move your sorry @$$, you fricking moron!" at 3:00 am.
I just love Reuter's Oddly Enough stories. Whether they make me
laugh out loud or just shake my head, they are always entertaining.
The fact that they're true only makes them that much more fun.
Perfect Pictures
Now, this is my kind of camera!
Don't have photo-altering software? Looking a little tired around the
eyes? No problem. The camera does it all, before you even download to
your computer.
Panasonic's LUMIX FX77 will not only whiten your teeth, remove those
pesky dark circles, and magnify your eyes - it will add makeup. Just a
little blush, lipstick, or eye shadow to fine-tune that 'candid' shot. [Continue Reading
...]
What Competitors?
Having trouble with other businesses stealing your customers? Take a
page from a
Philly pizzeria - leave a few mice in the competition's restroom.
Apparently the pizzeria owner, suffering an infestation of mice at
his own restaurant, felt he'd been contaminated by the competition
and set about settling the score. He's now up on charges for
planting little furry creatures at two other area businesses.
Unlawful Pratfall
Dating back to the 1800s, slipping
on a banana peel has been a staple of physical comedy. But, it's
always funny -- until someone gets hurt, as mothers having been
saying for generations.
And that's just what happened to a woman who is now suing a
California discount store. The 58-year-old slipped and fell last
April, allegedly suffering a herniated disk and tissue damage. Ya
gotta wonder, just how did a banana peel end up on that floor?
Had to laugh today. Went to the store for sodas and smokes, wearing contacts instead of my glasses. One of the clerks noticed, which started an amusing conversation.
In order to wear my sunglasses, I have to wear my contacts. In order to see what I'm buying, I have to bring my readers. But I was just getting started on the joy of being myopic.
I wear bifocals - because I'm old and myopic. Unfortunately, they don't work for what I spend 90% of my day doing - working on the computer. The top half requires the laptop to sit across the room; the bottom half requires the laptop to sit on my chest.
The best - absolute best - solution is putting in my contacts and adding varying strengths of get-em-at-the-corner-store readers. So, as I know I've mentioned before, I got contacts to avoid wearing glasses, only to plop a different type of glasses on my face. Just to be able to do what I should be able to do with the supremely not-inexpensive prescription glasses.
I recently signed a petition on Care2: GOP: If It's Not Consensual, It's Rape, in direct response to the GOP bill that is attempting to redefine rape and incest and further restrict access to abortion. A copy of the letter - with my comments added - was sent to my local legislators.
If I'd any doubts that these petitions actually went to regional legislators, I now know - with absolute certainty - that they do. Which is a good thing; and a bad thing.
The good thing? Someone in Washington, representing the state of Arizona, actually received the petition. The bad thing? Someone in Washington, representing the state of Arizona, actually received the petition.
If the issue weren't so important, the response I received would be funny. The issue is; the response isn't.
[Continue Reading ...]
I will let the petition, and an esteemed senator from Arizona, speak for themselves.
In brief:
Dear [Decision Maker],
I am horrified and disappointed in the recent GOP attempts to restrict access to abortion by redefining the definitions of rape and incest. I urge you to protect the definitions and the women who suffer from these horrible acts and vote NO on the "No Taxpayer Funding for Abortion Act."
And in ignorance:
Thank you for contacting me regarding the use of federal funds to finance abortions. I appreciate hearing your concerns on this important issue...
... Over the past several months, it has become increasingly evident that the healthcare reform legislation included the most expansive, pro-abortion agenda ever put forward in law. For this reason, I recently cosponsored S. 3723, the Excluding Abortion Coverage from Health Care Reform Act of 2010, which will clearly and effectively guarantee that taxpayer dollars cannot be used to fund elective abortions.
In response, to the response, I plan to express my opinion - again:
I recently signed a petition on Care2, which you received.
The petition expressed my disgust with the Republican party and their attempts to redefine rape and incest, in order to further restrict women's reproductive rights.
I am contacting you to express additional disgust with the response that I received from your office: I did not, do not, and will not support any political agenda that attempts to legislate what I can and cannot do with my body.
Frankly, I am appalled at your (and your party's) attempts to turn back the clock to the dark ages when a woman's life had less value than the land and livestock her husband (also) owned.
I will soon be taking up a collection - for bail money. Feel free to give heavily. {grins - for now}
After an incredible meal of homemade beef stew and crusty rolls, and heavenly homemade fudge, I was well on my way to a digestive coma. My brain wasn't even remotely processing the scales information I was looking at for this post. Which undoubtedly explains why, when I saw the heading for pocket scales, my first thought was,
"How the heck do you weigh pockets?" Followed closely by the equally fuzzy-brained, "Why would anyone want to?"
After I finished laughing at myself, I did a little research and found out that pocket scales are commonly used for weighing coins, gems, and jewelry. They get their name from the fact that they're small enough to fit in a pocket.
Not nearly as entertaining as my initial addlepated thoughts.
As I mentioned last week, I stumbled across a great blog recently: The
Simple Dollar. What I found so interesting was the perspective -
how, frequently, what we buy is tied to how we feel.
In a great mood? Celebrate by buying something. Having a bad day/week?
Pick yourself up with a quick trip to your favorite store.
We can all look back (or look in the closet) and see ourselves in
those statements. [Continue Reading
...]
Impulse or emotional spending is one of the biggest hits to our
budgets and credit cards. And, when it's all said and done, we
rarely feel better because we're now cash-poorer or deeper in debt.
In fact, shopping-as-therapy is almost guaranteed to make us feel
worse.
That's why I gave it up, years ago. I had closets and drawers full
of stuff I never (or rarely) used and my credit cards were groaning
under the weight of all those charges. Believe me, the impulse is
still there (watches, shoes, and handbags call to me); I've just
learned to turn a deaf ear and blind eye.
The latest The Simple Dollar column, "The
Lifestyle You Want," looks at some basic emotional and financial
truths. Starting with "If you're unhappy with your life, buying
stuff won't change that." Truthfully, how much do we really need -
not want, not desire - but need to be happy?
My Gotta-Have List
A roof over my head that doesn't leak ~ I am not likely to enjoy
living in my vehicle or taking up permanent residence in a tent in
the wilderness.
Running water and a working toilet ~ For pretty much the same
reasons as above, these are things I just gotta have. No
negotiating.
Electricity and/or Gas ~ Being averse to living in a tent or
vehicle, I am also averse to having no lights or heat (or cool). I
know it's odd, but that's just the way I am.
Food, on a fairly regular basis ~ It doesn't have to be gourmet;
it just needs to land (by my own hand or Mark's) on a plate near
my face every day, or so.
Clothes ~ Again, like the food, it doesn't have to be fancy.
Heaven knows, I don't go anywhere fancy. But I do like to cover up
the ugly parts, even if I'm just sitting around playing computer
games.
Select Electronics ~ Okay, I'm not as basic as I'd like to think.
I need a TV and a computer and a basic cell phone - I just do.
Right or wrong.
Books ~ I would probably be willing to swap the TV for an
unlimited supply of reading material. In fact, I'm pretty sure
that would be more than a fair trade.
Off the top of my head, I can't honestly think of anything else
that's a deal-breaker. A working vehicle would be really great.
However, since ours died a couple of years ago, I know that it's
possible to get around without one. It's not convenient or always
easy, but it can be done.
Your Gotta-Have List
What about you? What would be on your list of gotta-haves? Better
yet - what can you, absolutely, give up or do without?
Just in case you were wondering: I have the Power!
A little background, for those of you who don't know us: Mark doesn't
go out - for anything, except (most months) grocery shopping. He
really can't get up and down the stairs. So, if we need (or want)
something from the local store - I am the go-to gal.
Occasionally, that is not something I really want to do.
Tonight was one of those occasions. Mark wanted something from the
store; I felt he was out of his mind; he insisted. I considered ...
adjusting his attitude.
Instead, I simply threw on my shoes and went out -- with extreme
prejudice. In the end, it appears, I actually won.
As he explained it, when I walked out - so did the Internet connection.
I have been reading about Carrie Fisher's one-woman show, "Wishful Drinking," for most of the last year - with serious regrets.
Regret that I live miles away. Regret that even if I were closer, I couldn't afford tickets. Regret that I will never get to see it.
Each review and interview made me sigh with ... you got it ... regret.
This weekend - I am thrilled to note - those regrets will vanish!
On Sunday, HBO is premiering "Wishful Drinking" as a full-length documentary. It combines film footage with the taping that was done in front of a live audience. I just couldn't ask for better.
And - happy happy, joy joy - I won't have to dig out my binoculars to see everything up close and personal.
All I can say is: You know it's going to be a bad day when you can't get out of your apartment.
No, I didn't actually want to be up. And I certainly didn't want to be dressed and heading out the door. But, and this was the critical deciding factor, I desperately wanted a cigarette. Choice made; gotta go. Except I couldn't.
For the record: The lock on our front door has always been a little, shall we say, twitchy. Difficult to lock and unlock from the outside; keys sticking. Minor issue, since one of us is usually home and we lock up from the inside. (Wow, that's sad; we've gotta get out more.)
Then, a few months ago, after the new weatherstripping, the lock got even ... twitchier. Opening and closing the deadbolt became an Olympic event. In fact, Mark usually had to lock the door because I couldn't get the mechanism to turn.
[Continue Reading ...]
Fast forward: I am up, against my better judgement, and, since I am up, I want a cigarette. Clothes on, shoes tied, ready to go. Nope! Lock won't turn.
While suggesting I might want to mention this situation to the office, Mark has a go at the door. Nope! Won't budge. Pliers in hand, he now insists that I discuss this with the office. Hey, great idea - get me out! and I'll be happy to do just that.
After a few creative phrases and criminal abuse of a deadbolt, it was decided that we had a serious problem that needed immediate resolution. Gee!? Ya, think?! (Panic makes me a tad sarcastic.) My call to the office went something like this:
Me: "Hi, this is Jules. We have a problem with the lock on our door."
Manager: "Oh, are you locked out?
Me: "Uh, no. {dramatic pause} Locked in."
Well, suffice it to say - she found that rather amusing. So amusing, in fact, that I could hear her laughing across the atrium and through my securely bolted front door.
In her defense, she did come right up - tools in hand - to free us from our tiny apartment. Which, by the way, was getting smaller with every passing moment that I was stuck inside. It's a bit like not having a car; it doesn't matter if you have nowhere to go, the fact that you can't go anywhere will make you crazy. (I was starting to pace, energetically.)
By this point, Mark had taken the lock apart and was trying to force the mechanism. The lock was having none of that. There was no piece or part that would give an inch. So, with the manager on the outside and Mark on the inside, the standoff began.
Luckily, Mark has a collection of tools to rival any well-stocked hardware store. As time marched on and the lock continued to thwart any and all efforts, my job became handing larger and ever deadlier items out the front window. The housekeeper found this highly entertaining.
When the wire cutters passed through the window, I started eyeing the space between the side of the desk and the open window. Have I mentioned that when you can't do something normal, it becomes the only thing you really really really want to do?! I was losing faith in the tool-wielders and desperately in need of --
Suddenly, from the lovely, open, beyond my reach, rarified air of the real world - a voice floated up:
Do ... you ... need ... food!?
Epilogue: I check the new deadbolt several times a day. Unlocking and locking; unlocking and locking. It's my new(est) compulsion. Well, that and stashing cigarettes all over the apartment.
I was in bed when the first front passed through, around lunch-time. (Hey! I was up all night playing ... I mean working on the computer.) I'd had little, if any, sleep at this point. And - just for the record - I do not wake up in full possession of even a portion of my faculties -- under the best of circumstances.
[Continue Reading ...]
Snuggled comfortably in my bed, drifting between dreams, an odd sound fought to make itself heard. It whispered in a tiny, faraway corner of my mind:
Pssst? ... Pssst! ... Dummy!! ... Thunder! ...
Unimpressed and a tad put out (my little voices tend to be rude and insulting), I rolled over and, thinking fondly of raindrops on the roof, burrowed deeper into the bed.
Ahhhh! ... Nothing better than a nice storm {stretch} ... and a long nap!
But somewhere, starting in the deep dark recesses of my groggy sleep-deprived brain and struggling desperately to reach the surface, a vague awareness was beginning to form:
With a speed and violence not seen since the D-Day invasion, an angry mob of 500,000 gigantic p!ssed-off toddlers -- armed with wooden spoons and metal pans, and orders to beat my roof to death -- attacked the building! My brain screamed: Incoming!! and I shot, like a bullet, under the covers!
You have to understand, I grew up in Colorado and lived in Michigan for 23 years -- I am not unfamiliar with hailstorms. They were quite common and often violent. I am (or was), however, blissfully unaware of the sound of a hailstorm on an Arizona roof.
For you non-parents out there -- war movie, full-blown firefight, and surround-sound on max. Or -- more accurately -- on the morning after the night before, someone cranks up the stereo while you're still passed out on the speakers. Not a happy moment!
When I peeked out from the safety of my covers ('cuz everyone knows a fiber-filled comforter will deflect a falling ceiling) only to find no visible damage, I grabbed a robe and rushed to the bedroom window. I couldn't see anything! Nothing! Everything was a fog!
What the ... Hail ... is going on!?
Grabbing my glasses off the nightstand, I rushed to the living room. (Did I or did I not tell you - I do not wake up in possession of anything even approaching coherent thought?)
Cool! Ceiling still there, too! We were two for two in the sky-is-NOT-falling department. But, even with my glasses on, I couldn't see out that window. The rain had plastered the screen to the glass and it was like looking through wet paper towels.
Aw, the heck with this! ... I'm opening the door!
Then again ... perhaps that idea was not quite fully formed. Because, on closer examination, it appeared that our (former) maintenance crew had determined: new weather-stripping around the door does not automatically mean new weather-stripping beneath the door.
Therefore, due to (sloppy maintenance and) rain and hail pounding viciously into the west wall of our building, we had an ever-deepening river flowing east, under the front door, across the foyer, and straight for the carpet.
Grab the sandbags! ... Launch the lifeboats! ... Row, man! Row!
Okay, so -- perhaps -- I exaggerate, a bit. The foyer is about 2'x3'. One big towel soaked up the mess. And we didn't have to draw lots to see who went down with the, uh, apartment.
Still, I think it's only fair to expect that it not rain in - or around or under - my doors or my windows or any intentional hole in my tiny little, poorly built, home-sweet-home. Which explains why I was really miffed to find hail shooting out of the kitchen exhaust fan a few hours later, when the second front blew through.
A few years back I stumbled across a new television show on CBS called The Big Bang Theory and ever since that time I anxiously await each Monday night to watch all of the new episodes. I am so enthralled with the sitcom, that I even watch the reruns.
One of the reasons why I believe I am drawn to the show is because of its characters and often crazy story lines. The on-again, off-again romance between Leonard, an experimental physicist, and Penny, a waitress/hopeful actress, is the center of the show. Add in the character of Sheldon, Leonard's roommate and a theoretical physicist, and there are plenty of laughs as he constantly gets in the way of Leonard and Penny's relationship with his patented door knocking. From his inability to sit anywhere in the apartment except for his seat on the couch, to the crazy rules that dictate his life, Sheldon always provides plenty of laughs. The other two main characters on the show, Howard and Rajesh, are the core group of Sheldon and Leonard's friends. The foursome plan out all of their days together and cause each other plenty of trouble in each episode.
I love to watch The Big Bang Theory on Direct TV Houston, because it s a great way to relax with my husband and enjoy a good laugh together.
It appears that we have a serious laptop issue. We buy them, we love them, we kill them. Actually, with the exception of the Compaq that fried at the adapter connection to the motherboard, it's been the monitors that have gone down (up?) in flames. And, a few days ago, we 'lost' another one.
. . .
Naturally, we don't wreck them intentionally. Buying laptops is far too expensive to keep arbitrarily trashing the screen. Yet, we keep managing to (to paraphrase one of my favorite movies) take 'em out; uh, take 'em, take 'em down.
So, for the fourth time in as many years, I am ordering a new laptop today and am excited, frankly. One of my favorite techie shopping sites notified me of their 48-hour sale, starting at 9:00am yesterday, and I fell in love with a Toshiba that came with a great instant discount and free shipping. I should have known better.
What was in my price range on the day before payday, was sold out this morning. Yesterday's second choice (also a Toshiba) was $100.00 off with free shipping when I had no money. Today, the discount is cut in half and shipping is no longer free.
Beginning to wonder if the laptop police have decided I no longer am worthy.
I live online. That little avatar you see on so many profiles? - well,
that's not a dynamic representation of me. C'est moi! I have
moved into the Internet. . . .
This relocation came about because, frankly, online shopping, online insurance quotes, online news, online anything does not limit me to when I can shop, get information I need, or just research the latest diabetes news. Plus, it's so roomy.
Think about it! Instead of a one-bedroom apartment at outrageous rates, I can have a spacious home (website), with as many rooms (webpages) as I like, for mere pennies a day. And I can add as much space (content) as I want without contractors, building permits, and construction debris.
So, if you're in the neighborhood - have your avatar IM my avatar. We'll share a byte.
I was unpleasantly surprised today to find that an entry I wrote yesterday was gone. Actually, it had - thanks to our lovely Internet connection - simply failed to post. While this isn't exactly an odd occurrence, it is incredibly annoying.
One would think (more than one, even) that I would routinely check for this problem. But, in the midst of the 10,000 or so projects I have on my plate at any given time - I tend to take the basics for granted. Once I 'finish' something, I presume that it's actually finished. Guess that'll teach me!
Now that I can see that my skin has gone horribly, horribly wrong, the question is: What am I going to do? There are so many options. But, the answer is very simple.
. . .
I have not got a clue! Is there a 'Skin Care for Dummies' out there?
To start, I need to get rid of the {unmentionable number of} years of neglect - meaning lots of dermabrasion. Also known as carefully sandpapering away the dead skin of a thousand lifetimes. Orbital sander notwithstanding, this is a fine line. As once you see bone you've, pretty much, gone too far.
Assuming I make it through Stage 1 without needing a transfusion and cheekbone reconstruction, I then have to find a way to nourish this (hopefully) new-found younger-looking skin. When my hands and feet turn into leather, I slather them with petroleum jelly, throw on clean white cotton socks and let the moisturizing begin.
Somehow I just don't think that's going to be a good recipe for my face. Not to mention - without a field of cotton, a gin, cards, spinning wheel, and a really big crochet hook - I am probably not gonna find a sock that big.
Frankly, after reading and researching all of the wondrous beauty products on the market, I'm leaning toward making my own skin care products. All-natural ingredients, designed to support what the skin does on its own. I've even found an intriguing book - written by a nutritionist/skin expert - that has a lot of information about how skin works and what it takes to keep it happy. Especially, after 40.
Years ago, when I still had reasonably healthy skin, I owned a book by Diane von Furstenberg that was filled with recipes for gentle, effective skin care. The ingredients were fairly inexpensive, easy to use, and did (as I recall) keep my skin looking healthy. Of course, at 20-something, that's probably not too difficult.
We'll see if the same process works 30 years later.
We (my eyes and I) seem to be operating under the no-good-deed-goes-unpunished aphorism. They don't understand that I need to be able to not merely see - but clearly read - the computer screen. And preferably from a distance that doesn't involve surgical alteration to the length of my arms.
. . .
Don't get me wrong. I love my glasses. (Well, except when I look in the mirror; then, I hate them.) I can see the TV from across the room, and even read street signs. I can read the fine print on the cereal box and even thread a needle. It's great; really.
It's just that I can't - at a comfortable distance - see the screen on my laptop clearly. The top of the bifocals focuses a little too far away; the bottom, a little too close. Meaning I either increase the length of my already-so-long-I-bump-into-everything arms or I have a joint inserted in the middle of my forearm, cuz right now I don't bend that way.
I do have a third option - contacts and readers. The combination works. I can clearly read the print on the monitor without balancing the laptop on my shins or bumping my nose on the screen. But, somehow, putting in contacts and putting on glasses feels a bit like putting lifts in high heels - redundant and ridiculous.
The real kicker? The contacts and readers I had - before I spent a king's ransom on new stuff - managed to do about as well as this new stuff for computer work. Thereby invoking the no-good-deed-goes-unpunished portion of today's entertainment.
But, since I have about 10 hours worth of work to do and no surgeon in sight, I guess I'd best go put the ol' contacts in. {sigh}
First - I was really, really, Really in need of new glasses. If you've ever looked through a pair of binoculars, but didn't quite have the focus right - that's been me for heaven knows how long. I put my new specs on and it was like someone put the world back in focus. It was shocking how much clearer everything suddenly became.
Which leads me to the second problem - everything is so much clearer! You would not believe how smooth and even my skin was this morning. Now? I have blotches all over. And where in the world did all those lines come from?!
I'm thinking this new improved vision was a very, Very, VERY bad idea! Because now I need industrial-strength skin care, Botox, and what is with that hair color? Oh, mercy! I am in deep, deep trouble!
If I thought grocery shopping produced serious sticker-shock, I should
have remembered shopping for glasses. There's a heart-stopper if ever I
saw one. Especially, when it comes to specialty lenses, like mine.
[Continue Reading ...]
I've been putting off getting new glasses for a very long time, now.
The prescription on my contacts is just as old and I can't really see
out of either. Add in the fact that my glasses are bent, the earpieces
are taped on - and you can see it's time to bite the bullet and head
to the eye doctor.
To that end, I have been doing some online pricing. It appears that
the 30-day multifocals I have been desperately wanting are not going
to happen, unless we suddenly hit the lottery. But the deals out there
on eyeglasses are pretty good.
The fact that I am seriously near-sighted, need bifocals, and have an
astigmatism in my left eye shouldn't make a difference. Right!? Oh,
yeah! It's gonna be expensive.
It's really strange. When Mark and I got together, it was just the two of us - for almost 3 years. We were good at just-the-two-of-us. Then, the children descended.
. . .
Eventually, we got really good at being just-the-four-of-us. Okay, maybe not really good - but, hey, nobody died and we're still together. But, starting in 2007, the kids started to disappear. First Frankie; then Michael. We were back to just-the-two-of-us and, although sad at first, we got good at it again.
Over the last 18 months or so, we've had one kid move in and out and in again. It really changes the dynamics - and floor space - when you add a third body (and personality) to the mix. He's been here for about 10 months now and we've adapted, as much as we're going to. Then, last night -- he left.
Granted, it's not a permanent move; he just went to spend the weekend with his older brother. But - Wow! It's quiet in here! And he's not even that noisy. If the room were bigger and you couldn't see him - constantly - out of the corner of your eye, you probably wouldn't even know he was here.
So how does the presence, or lack thereof, of one not-so-noisy person make the whole place seem different? I don't know, but I'll be glad when he gets home on Sunday. The silence is deafening!
It doesn't happen often, but when it does - it happens the minute I walk out the door !
I'm talking about rain in Arizona. That wonderful weather that blows in about this time every year; when the heat and the humidity vie for Most-Supreme-Misery-Maker. Rarely is there a clear winner.
It's probably my fault - not the rain, the getting-rained-on. I knew we were out of cigarettes and I knew there was a storm coming. Just didn't get my behind up and out in time. Which really sucks!
Cuz my shoes get squishy. Cuz my glasses get all spotty. Cuz I really, really hate showering with my clothes on!
The video is from March. I was a little distracted today - wringing out my feet!
Unable to sleep, I was catching up on the news on my phone. I was also trying to be still and quiet so that Mark could sleep. This wasn't much of a problem with Yahoo! News/ Opinions - although I'd like to know where all of my regular columnists went. Then, I hit Humor at Creators.com.
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It started with Peter McKay, whom I've mentioned before. His painting post made me grin; the deck awning story had me softly chuckling. My funny bone was itching and twitching, but I was still in control. And Mark was still asleep. Whew!
Then I made a near-fatal error - I started reading Bruce Cameron. 'Tom the Caveman' was amusing; the 'Teenage Boat' touched a chord. If I had stopped there, I'd have been fine. But - No! - I had to continue!
Having never mastered the fine art of moderation, I moved on to 'Feng Shui' and the beginning of the end. Between Larry, the tiger, the dragon, and the in-laws, I was starting to stifle some serious laughter. The bed was beginning to shake; the tears were making it difficult to finish the story and regain a little self-control. But, eventually, I made it and Mark was still asleep.
The '3-D Printer' was the final blow. The bed was bouncing, the tears were flowing. Images of cellphone cases were circling hysterically in my brain and I couldn't stop giggling. Silently, uncontrollably giggling.
All I can say is: it is physically painful to hold back that much laughter. Thank heaven I waited until today to read 'My Father the Dog Trainer.' I'd have killed myself!
Periodically, I go shopping for printer ink. It's not that we do a great deal of printing, but we've been using the same cartridges for a very long time. And, if you use something like the Xerox Phaser (108R00724) ink sticks, you know -- aw, heck! I gotta go there.
Which is more deadly - color or black-and-white? Does the wide-beam setting print legal-size, or just burn through a ream like, well like a Phaser through paper? Do you need a concealed-copy permit, for working after hours?
"Set phasers on copy - and good luck. Kirk out."1
1 - With apologies to Star Trek IV and Xerox, who I'm sure, has heard them all. (I just couldn't resist.)
Well, June is finally gone! Hooray! It came in badly and did not go out with a whimper. Never, in recent memory, has one month wreaked so much havoc - from start to finish. July just has to be better. Right?!
. . .
For starters, this month looks to be a food fest, which is just fine with me. I love the seasonal goodies flooding the stores right now. Fresh fruits and veggies are always the top of my grocery list.
But July brings even more to enjoy. Firing up the grill and dusting off those summer recipes is what it's all about. This is a month for celebrating ~ Baked Beans, Culinary Arts, Ice Cream, Hot Dogs, and Blueberries.
If those aren't enough, take a look at the first seven days of July:
National Gingersnap Day
National Anisette Day
National Chocolate Wafer Day
National Barbecued Spareribs Day
National Apple Turnover Day
National Fried Chicken Day
National Strawberry Sundae Day, and Chocolate Day
Okay - that did it! I'm off to the store for turnovers, baked beans, and fried chicken! Oh, and a pint of ice cream and blueberries. And some gingersnaps and ribs. And, in anticipation of the end of the month - lollipops, milk chocolate, and cheesecake!
And some stretchy sweatpants. And an exercise machine. This could get veddy, veddy bad.
What does it mean when you dream about bow ties? Seriously! I had the oddest dream about Mark buying a matching shirt and bow tie - in champagne-on-white stripes, no less. In the dream, he was so proud and I was just . . .
To begin with, I've always (no offense intended) thought that bow ties were just a little nerdy. With the exception of a really snazzy tux, they just don't scream stud. I mean look at Orville Redenbacher! (Okay, not a fair example.)
In an attempt to update my attitude, I went searching for Men in Bow Ties. I found some pictures at the late, great Berkley Magazine that did not make me giggle and cry "Nerd!" In fact, some of the looks were terrific and I can see, now, how bow ties could be a great deal of fun. Especially the not-so-rigid styles.
Still can't quite see one on Mark. But maybe that's just me. And my odd little dream.
Normally, by June 13, we are in the triple-digits and hiding in our
air-conditioned homes. We expect it; we prepare ourselves for it; we
know it's coming. But this year - brrrr!
Yesterday was actually so cool that we had to turn off the air and close
the windows to keep a little heat in. Rather than our usual summer togs
- as little clothes as is legal - we had to find the sweats and sweaters
we'd already packed away for the season. It was really odd.
Odd - but very welcome. Wonder if it might last another day? More,
please, Mother Nature!
While checking my website keywords, crawl errors, SEO, and all those
other wonderful things that webmasters are wont to do, I ran across a
post from over two years ago. It looked, sarcastically, at a news story
on budgeting.
(Sadly, I didn't link to the story, so I have no idea where I found it.)
Now that our country is setting such a fine example, ... Who am I
kidding? The government always lives off its credit cards. But,
it's never a bad time to think about living within one's means, as they
used to say.
Well, unless you have a blank check from China. In which case, never
mind.
As I am seriously reluctant to visit doctors, dentists, and other poke-and-prod purveyors of bad news, I have been trying to self-determine why I have a serious pain in my left side. My definition of serious: constant localized discomfort that NSAIDs, vitamin C, and time haven't helped. Not to mention, it's an odd pain.
. . .
Muscle pull? Been there, done that - a lot, actually. In my experience, I wouldn't be able to lift my arms, turn, move, and/or, basically, dress myself. As I have not been forced to run around naked or have Mark dress me, I'll eliminate that one.
Back out of alignment? This is always a fun one - leading to pains in places that, at first blush, have nothing to do with the location of the problem. Nothing like chest pains to get your attention. But, adjusting my 'spinal attitude' hasn't really helped. Guess we have to eliminate this one.
Bruised rib? (See Muscle Pull) Although the mid-rib area of my left side is occasionally tender to the touch and I do have some minor, occasional issues with movement, I can probably eliminate that one, too. The pain is just not, for lack of a better word, right.
Not happy with where this is leading. I'm starting to see a doctor visit in my future.
Lung problem? Hmmmm? Not so sure. I've had pneumonia, bronchitis, and pleuresy (some more than once) - and this just doesn't feel like how I remember those pains. Which could be selective amnesia, truth be told.
And yet - Can't take a full breath without pain. Smoking just upsets everything. Coughing is something to be avoided, at all costs.
Soooo!? We have interesting options: infection, inflammation, or the big C. Frankly, I'm leaning toward some sort of allergy-related complication, after my recent 2 week bout of something. Either way, it looks like it's time to call the doctor.
I was looking at some of the "best anti wrinkle cream" sites and got caught up reading a quite funny debate over one particular product. Never actually did find what I was looking for. But I had a great time, anyway.
It all started because I was trying to find some information on Acetyl Hexapeptide-3. This ingredient is showing up in a lot of creams. Naturally, I wanted to know what it was and if it could do what it claimed.
After lots of searching, I ran across a forum discussion that seemed to really know what was going on. Then, I got down to the last few posts where 2 people were convinced that a third was only complaining, because her products didn't use this peptide. From there is just devolved into hysteria.
Must say, it's been a long time since I laughed that hard. Unfortunately, I still don't know if Acetyl Hexapeptide-3 actually works.
It is entirely possible that I watch entirely too much SyFy Channel.
I offer that observation, based on my reaction to seeing the Roto-Rooter Truck sitting in our parking lot yesterday. Did I think: "Oh, no! Plumbing problems!"? Nope.
The first thought to enter my little sci-fi-soaked brain was "Oooh! Ghosts!"
For those of you who share our addiction to this channel, you'll understand. Those of you with normal lives, won't get it. But that's okay.
While not actively pursuing a memory upgrade for our two computers, I do
keep my eye out for a great sale.
The only problem - so far - is I keep getting distracted by all of the
other ... {ooh, shiny!!}
Ummm. Where was I? Oh, yes - great deals.
I wasn't actually looking to upgrade any of our software. It works,
though some of it is about 8 years old. Then, I tripped over a deal I
couldn't refuse.
A utility that we have on all of our computers, for less than we paid 7
years ago. Just can't ignore ... {squirrel!}
National Scoop-the-Poop Week ~ April 25-May 1,
2010
Straw Hat Month
So, I guess my month is pretty darn full: Throw on my Straw Hat, turn on
some great Jazz, Decorate a Humorous Award for my favorite International
Twit(s), and avoid the poop that hasn't been scooped. Gonna be a great
time!
Hope your month is equally spectacular!
With many thanks to Brownielocks.com who offers amazing, validated holiday and observance information.
Years ago ... I hate it when a thought starts that way; nearly as bad as "When I was your age...". But, like it or not, it was years ago.
It was the 70s and I had a job bussing tables at a cafeteria that butted up to a beauty salon. The glass door near the kitchen let the stylists come in to have lunch - or bug the help. They were a little nuts and it was rarely dull.
. . .
The joke and prank ring-leader was rebuilding a woodie wagon (a bit like the picture, if memory serves ). He was planning to attach long-armed convex mirrors and - for some reason - had them in the salon. With him, who knew?
One day, there was a knock at the salon door and an impish, bearded face appeared in the glass. Grinning and babbling about nothing in particular, he kept looking down at my feet. Being young and naive, I had no idea what was going on - at first.
Eventually I figured it out. Suffice it to say, just the site of one of those mirrors can still make me laugh - after 35 years.
I have made every effort to not mention a certain Republican from Alaska on these pages. Personally, I believe that this Alaskan gets enough press, without my little blog adding to the mix. Yet, sometimes the best laid plans of mice and happy little bloggers are thwarted.
. . .
The reality (pun intended) is that there is just too much to see (and hear) of this former-politician. Especially, too much in the political arena. Didn't we quit, give up, walk away? or was that just a great fake-out, designed to find new ways to keep that voice {shudders} filling sound-bites until 2012?
Now, we're facing a series of televised postcards from Alaska? Don't get me wrong. I realize that it is a beautiful state and probably well worth exploring. But, come on!
Isn't there anyone else? Couldn't this Tina-Fey-wannabe just stay home, take care of the kids, protect the wolves, and, I don't know, stop painting bullseyes on those who disagree with public displays of political insanity?
I don't know about you, but for us this has been one incredibly long
month. Twenty-eight little days have dragged on forever.
Usually, February flies by so quickly that I end up, on the 28th,
wondering where it went and why I didn't get anything done. Not this
year. I wonder if that means the whole of 2010 is going to last for
about a decade in my mind.
Hmmm?! That might not be so bad. Maybe I'll get the closets organized
and the morons chased out of the Senate and the mending done and the
bathroom painted and the ironing addressed and the kitchen cupboards
reorganized and world hunger ended and the DVDs alphabetized and the
novel finished (or started) and the Middle East crisis resolved and an
organizer ordered and my hair color changed and the carpets shampooed
and the windows washed and the ...
Aw heck. Maybe I'll just have another cup of coffee and hope that March
doesn't last 60 days.
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