I'd rather the markets would wait to tank until after they have risen to stratospheric heights, causing me to sell to assure my gains. Not that there would be much, you understand. But now it's even less. Today's sell-off was a surprise to me, perhaps showing that I am not paying much attention to the markets until they do something nasty. Or, my surprise at today's sell-off might simply be an indication that I do not understand the markets. I'm thinking they're driven by magic dust, which generally keeps far, far away from me.
Speaking of magic, I received a free edition of a Korean newspaper, in English, over the weekend. Inside the newspaper was quite alot of information about Falun Dafa (Gong) and how wonderful it is. Something I read in the literature attempted to define some of the power of the "self improvement meditation practice" as similar to what those in the west call magic. One claim in the brochure (or was it on the website to which the brochure referred?) was that David Copperfield once walked through the Great Wall of China. That was not magic, the claim said, it was an example of this amazing power of Falun Dafa.
I was willing to explore a bit until I read that the earth has been destroyed by civilizations several times before, by people who far surpassed our intellectual maturation and whose technologies were many times more advanced than ours today.
Yeah, I dunno, I think I may have a bit of trouble with that. Maybe the exercises are good, but the belief system is too far off the edge of reason for my taste.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
It Can Happen Here, I'm Afraid
I still don't feel worth a damn, these few minutes after my last post, but I wanted to alert you to a rant from the Grumpy Old Man that echoes my own personal concerns about the current U.S. administration. Read it and his links and you'll be equally concerned that Bush and friends are actively engaged in plans to cement their control over us.
Bleccchh
I've been battling an odd combination of a fever/ear-ache/tenderness on may scalp/sinus infection (how's for the past 24 hours or so. So, my ability to think has been as out of sorts as my ability to concentrate. If this doesn't abate of its own volition, in short order, I shall visit a physician. I'm not enjoying this even a little bit.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Deliberative Laziness
The morning light shows no signs of yesterday's horrendous dust storm. The sky is blue and clear and all evidence of yesterday's wind and driving dust are gone...except, of course, the broken branches and limbs and the fine coating of dust on every surface.
The high winds and consequential traffic signal malfunctions gave us reason not to venture out to the grocery store yesterday, so that will be on the agenda today. I have a need...OK, a desire...for fresh vegetables. I look forward to wandering among the cauliflower, broccoli, squash, peppers, etc. and selecting the ones that appear best suited to my tongue. My wife has a rationale for which store(s) we will visit, but she either choses not to share it with me or I simply don't understand. I simply tag along, not knowing why we're off to Tom Thumb instead of Central Market or vice versa. It doesn't matter. I just like vegetable-viewing. If I were more energetic, I'd be workin in my back yard, taking up large patches of St. Augustine grass and tilling the soil to make my garden. But, today, I don't have the energy and my arthritic hands and knees are rebelling even at the idea of such a thing.
I feel like taking a DART train for a ride today. DART is the acronym for Dallas Area Rapid Transit. The light rail trains are great, though there are very few routes, none of which are close by. There must be some people who live and work in the right places...places convenient to use mass transit. A ride toward downtown, stopping whenever something interesting comes into view strikes me as a good use of time today. I want to unwind. Or, I could return to writing my story about two middle-aged sisters who rob an elderly widow of her future. For some reason, the latter does not offer the "unwinding" that I want. I want to be deliberately and visibly lazy today. So why am I writing this? Why, indeed.
The high winds and consequential traffic signal malfunctions gave us reason not to venture out to the grocery store yesterday, so that will be on the agenda today. I have a need...OK, a desire...for fresh vegetables. I look forward to wandering among the cauliflower, broccoli, squash, peppers, etc. and selecting the ones that appear best suited to my tongue. My wife has a rationale for which store(s) we will visit, but she either choses not to share it with me or I simply don't understand. I simply tag along, not knowing why we're off to Tom Thumb instead of Central Market or vice versa. It doesn't matter. I just like vegetable-viewing. If I were more energetic, I'd be workin in my back yard, taking up large patches of St. Augustine grass and tilling the soil to make my garden. But, today, I don't have the energy and my arthritic hands and knees are rebelling even at the idea of such a thing.
I feel like taking a DART train for a ride today. DART is the acronym for Dallas Area Rapid Transit. The light rail trains are great, though there are very few routes, none of which are close by. There must be some people who live and work in the right places...places convenient to use mass transit. A ride toward downtown, stopping whenever something interesting comes into view strikes me as a good use of time today. I want to unwind. Or, I could return to writing my story about two middle-aged sisters who rob an elderly widow of her future. For some reason, the latter does not offer the "unwinding" that I want. I want to be deliberately and visibly lazy today. So why am I writing this? Why, indeed.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Who's There
Sometimes, I wonder who's out there. I know and appreciate my friends who visit regularly. But I wonder who else is there. It would be interesting to know who visits, even if they don't stay.
For those who stay long enough to learn a little, you may be interested to listen to one of my favorite instrumental pieces; listen to this.
Nothing more for the moment. I'm listening to music. Ahh, music can comfort the beast.
For those who stay long enough to learn a little, you may be interested to listen to one of my favorite instrumental pieces; listen to this.
Nothing more for the moment. I'm listening to music. Ahh, music can comfort the beast.
Dust Bowl
The wind today, and continuing tonight, is horrific. According to weather reports, we've seen gusts well past 50 MPH today. The sky confirms it. Late today, as my wife and I were out for a brief drive, the sky turned an ugly beige as the wind carried with it the dull reddish dust from west Texas. Even inside the car, it was hard to breathe...every breath took in an uncomfortable mist of west Texas dust. The dust took over he skyline...ugly, dull, beige. Ugh! I hear the wind, hours later, and the forecast is for more of the same. Tons and tons of dust and sand are airborne, swishing around the sky, wondering where to stop and deposit a mass of ugly dust. I don't much like this. I wonder if the Depression and the dust bowl were like this. We have it much easier today. I'm glad my last name is not Joad. I would not have dealt very well with the challenges. I should be very thankful to have been born much later.
Canadian Entrepreneurs Attempt to Cut Power Use
I just read an article in Fortune Small Business that got me pumped. A couple of Canadians have developed a product called the PowerCost Monitor. It is a device that attaches to a homeowner's electric meter and reads the amount of electricity consumed and converts it to dollars and cents. Hydro One, an Ontario utility, bought 30,000 units to distribute to customers. They found that customers who used the gadget used an average of 6.5% less electricity. The brothers who came up with the idea for the device said that, as kids, their father prodded his children to turn off lights and turn down the heat and said people would waste less if they only had a way to easily translate how electricity usage translated in real money. I'm going to ask my electric utility about encouraging customers to use this device and, perhaps, to subsidize their usage.
Bill Clinton's Last Days in Office
A sense of humor requires at least some degree of intellect. Can you imagine George Bush even thinking about allowing something like this to be shot? Can you imagine him playing along? This piece on Clinton's last days in office is hilarious, not so much because of the content, but because it shows the enormous differences in style between someone with a sense of humor and someone who's handled by Dick Cheney.
Thanks to Gary of withinsight from Nelson, BC for alerting me to this. I envy his trip to La Manzanilla, Mexico.
Thanks to Gary of withinsight from Nelson, BC for alerting me to this. I envy his trip to La Manzanilla, Mexico.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Dream Patrol
It's been awhile since I've heard from my brother who lives in the Greater Falba area. One of my commitments on my 2007 to-do list is to begin working on building a family compound. He had agreed to check into the building permit requirements, etc. for me. No word to date, but in the event he is reading this post, let this be a reminder (and a reminder that I'm awaiting some legal tender).
As the weather begins to warm here in Texas, I start thinking about what I'll do to make my yard look and feel appealing. That always makes me wonder why I have fallen for the idea that a green grass lawn is what should occupy the land around homes. Aside from being water-hogs, their upkeep requires either chemical fertilizers or organic treatments that would be put to better use toward growing vegetables, not lawns. Xeriscaping is something that has never been awfully popular here, but should be. Native plants, suited to native levels of rainfall and heat, etc. are much better choices than nursery recommendations that cost much more and require more upkeep and money and leave the land wanting for 'nature.'
Back to Falba. Same deal. I need to focus on building a very well-insulated, well-situated place that is landscaped to complement the environment. Minimal water use, minimal use of power (though in Falba, air conditioning in summertime is absolutely necessary to these old bones...I never understand how only half a century ago people could actually live in this climate without it), etc.
I need to remember to post a blog that will record as many as possible of the details of a series of dreams I had last night. Some of the scenes that comprised the dream(s):
Strange, I know. I hope I remember enough about them when I sit down to write more about them.
As the weather begins to warm here in Texas, I start thinking about what I'll do to make my yard look and feel appealing. That always makes me wonder why I have fallen for the idea that a green grass lawn is what should occupy the land around homes. Aside from being water-hogs, their upkeep requires either chemical fertilizers or organic treatments that would be put to better use toward growing vegetables, not lawns. Xeriscaping is something that has never been awfully popular here, but should be. Native plants, suited to native levels of rainfall and heat, etc. are much better choices than nursery recommendations that cost much more and require more upkeep and money and leave the land wanting for 'nature.'
Back to Falba. Same deal. I need to focus on building a very well-insulated, well-situated place that is landscaped to complement the environment. Minimal water use, minimal use of power (though in Falba, air conditioning in summertime is absolutely necessary to these old bones...I never understand how only half a century ago people could actually live in this climate without it), etc.
I need to remember to post a blog that will record as many as possible of the details of a series of dreams I had last night. Some of the scenes that comprised the dream(s):
- A mesa high (very high) above the surrounding landscape, comprised of a mix of children playing, family activities (my family), and a landscape reminiscent of a desert scene in spring;
- A brother pointing out to me, looking down from that mesa, the source of a hot spring in southwestern Mexico that was being routed into a northbound pipeline that would take hot water north to Dallas, where it was needed;
- Another brother taking foolish chances by diving into an algae and weed-infested canal that was filled with alligators hidden under enormous algae blooms;
- A scene of a brother explaining why he was not concerned about the prevalence of pest animals in areas near an unprotected entryway into a house;
- A sister introducing me to a woman who I already knew, a woman who I knew had a not-so-secret 'crush' on me;
Several members of my staff asking me to close the office for a pancake-eating contest that the brother of a staffer had entered.
Strange, I know. I hope I remember enough about them when I sit down to write more about them.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Nomad with a Notebook
It's 3:42 a.m. and I've been awake for who knows how long. I decided to stop, for awhile, attempting to go back to sleep and do something productive (well, that's questionable).
I spent Sunday through Tuesday in Austin, Texas, thanks primarily to a client organization's political aspirations. My role was primarily simply to be present, to be available in case I was needed. The only needs that arose for me to fulfill were trips to the copy shop to get, and pay for, large numbers of photocopies. There's nothing quite as energizing as to be needed for something so mission-critical.
Each time I find myself in such a situation, I further question what in the hell I am doing in the business I am in. Starting my business as a one-man operation forced me to acquire quite a few skills that I suspect I could sell on the open market. This leads me to think I could get out of the more formal "company" environment in which I find myself now and into a worklife involving freelance work, using my trusty (or not so) notebook computer as my link to the world. Nomad with a notebook. I like that idea, living for weeks or months at a time in a spot that suits me (us...my wife is a requisite part of this picture), then off to a more appealing place when the luster wears off or the temperatures begin to move out of comfortable ranges. My notebook,d a cell phone, wi-fi hot spots and I'm in business! Let's see, how could I position our services?
Wait, this sounds too much like what we're doing now. But the appeal of doing it from the road...
I spent Sunday through Tuesday in Austin, Texas, thanks primarily to a client organization's political aspirations. My role was primarily simply to be present, to be available in case I was needed. The only needs that arose for me to fulfill were trips to the copy shop to get, and pay for, large numbers of photocopies. There's nothing quite as energizing as to be needed for something so mission-critical.
Each time I find myself in such a situation, I further question what in the hell I am doing in the business I am in. Starting my business as a one-man operation forced me to acquire quite a few skills that I suspect I could sell on the open market. This leads me to think I could get out of the more formal "company" environment in which I find myself now and into a worklife involving freelance work, using my trusty (or not so) notebook computer as my link to the world. Nomad with a notebook. I like that idea, living for weeks or months at a time in a spot that suits me (us...my wife is a requisite part of this picture), then off to a more appealing place when the luster wears off or the temperatures begin to move out of comfortable ranges. My notebook,d a cell phone, wi-fi hot spots and I'm in business! Let's see, how could I position our services?
- Writing and Editing
- Leadership Development Program Design and Delivery
- Not-for-Profit Board Advice and Counsel
- Procedures Manual Development
- MS Access Programming
- Website Maintenance
- Bookkeeping and Accounting with QuickBooks Pro
Wait, this sounds too much like what we're doing now. But the appeal of doing it from the road...
Monday, February 19, 2007
Talk to Your LIbrarian About Your Favorite Scrotum
I'm late to the conversation about librarians talking about banning a children's book because of its inclusion of the word "scrotum." My attitude about that is this: any librarian who contemplates banning any book for any reason obviously does not understand the code of good librarians. Librarians promote free speech and oppose censorship, not the other way around. If a librarian in my town suggested banning any book, including books that promote murder and mayhem and all manner of sick crap, I would demand the librarian be fired. I feel the same way about pharmacists who refuse to fill prescriptions for drugs they say contravene their religious beliefs.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Someone needs help
I am not quite sure how I came upon the blog, written by 'Anntichrist S. Coulter,' but I did. Based on the author's fellow contributors on other blogs, I suspect I came upon it via a link at The Fat Lady Sings. I spent quite some time reading about a woman named Lee who lives in Louisiana. She has a brain tumor that is intertwined with a tumor on her face. I don't know all the details, but what I have been able to gather she is unable to pay for whatever treatment is needed and there is no assurance that any treatment will be successful. Read about her plight and what her friends have been doing to help her and I think you, too, may be moved to give a little. For all I know, I could be falling for an elaborate hoax. I'm willing to risk it, because I think it's real and, if not, I can afford to lose twenty bucks.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
When Animals Experience Happiness
I watched an interesting program on PBS this evening...actually, I got in on the tail end...about how different mammals show their emotions and what their emotions suggest about them. I've always believed dogs smile. The program said that is true. I have always felt that the play behaviors one observes in dogs and cats and monkeys and other mammals are combinations of practice for the real world and opportunities for creatures to experience happiness and joy. According to the program (whose name I cannot remember but will have to look up in the television guide), my feelings are right. I think people can and do regularly communicate with their pets and other animals. We don't always understand one another, but we sometimes communicate. And that is good. I like to think, naively perhaps, that the ugliness of humanity does not exist in other animals. I like to think dogs don't deliberately set out in groups to kill for the sheer thrill of it. I like to think that monkeys do not deface property just because they want to do damage. I have more faith in animals, sometimes, than in people.
No reason for this post, other than I was just thinking about it all.
No reason for this post, other than I was just thinking about it all.
Friday, February 16, 2007
It's late, for me. I'm listening to Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio sing "Dimming of the Day," a powerful piece of music, from my perspective. It makes me melancholy. I don't quite know why. I've just opened up iTunes to see what 'stuff' I have here that will comfort me and make me relax and decompress from another hard day, psychologically speaking, of work.
Uh oh, the music changes radically! Now, I'm hearing The Moody Blues, The Story in Your Eyes. Not decompressing music, not by a long shot. But I like it. And then, Your Wildest Dreams, another TMB piece. Bam! Now I hear Neko Case, singing Hold On, Hold On. Then, a radical shift to Face Down at Folk City by the Roches. Then, a shift to Tanita Tikaram, Twist in My Sobriety. Then, a screeching turn to Tom Waits, singing Bottom of the World. And then to Tracy Chapman, singing whatever is on the CD.
You don't want to read this. You would want to hear it, though. My ears are enjoying the evening.
Uh oh, the music changes radically! Now, I'm hearing The Moody Blues, The Story in Your Eyes. Not decompressing music, not by a long shot. But I like it. And then, Your Wildest Dreams, another TMB piece. Bam! Now I hear Neko Case, singing Hold On, Hold On. Then, a radical shift to Face Down at Folk City by the Roches. Then, a shift to Tanita Tikaram, Twist in My Sobriety. Then, a screeching turn to Tom Waits, singing Bottom of the World. And then to Tracy Chapman, singing whatever is on the CD.
You don't want to read this. You would want to hear it, though. My ears are enjoying the evening.
Friday Night Banality and Wisdom
One of our tried-and-true favorite restaurants disappointed us mightily tonight. We go there once or twice a year for celebratory stuff, as it's horrendously expensive. But, until tonight, it has delivered impeccable service, spectacular food, and an all-around enjoyable evening. Not so tonight. We're pondering whether to give it another try. The expense of the place argues against it...if they can't deliver damn-near-perfection every time at those prices, it's probably not a good bet to spend the money again. What do you think?
Sunday, it's off to Austin for a client's political educational program, followed by a day of association members visiting with their legislators to ask for support on an as-yet-unnumbered (and as yet unsponsored) bill to give their group special status. Despite my distaste for self-serving political endeavors, I support the group's efforts; I think they are in the best interests of the citizenry. But I loathe having to slouch around, staying close to people who are scurrying about looking for political favors.
I am exploring the limited train trip options available to my wife and me for short weekend-plus-a-day-or-two jaunt from Dallas. The options are limited, thanks to Amtrak's lack of support in Congress and, quite probably, its management's missteps (that's only a guess...I know nothing about the management of Amtrak, but feel anything funded by this government has to be suspect). We could go to Little Rock, where we could explore the Clinton Library, but our return trip would have to start in the wee hours of the morning...only one train and one track, I gather, for both directions.
My doctor is elated at my LDL cholesterol level, 29, and horrified at my blood pressure (in high orbit). Exercise, drink water, double up on Toprol, and lose weight, he says. OK. I will do those things.
Maybe if I posted my blood pressure and my weight on this blog, every week, I would have more incentive. Probably not. People would make a point of sidestepping this blog.
The foregoing words of insight and interest have been brought to you by:
Barking Burro Investments, Inc.
We make a fuss about being stubborn with your money.
Sunday, it's off to Austin for a client's political educational program, followed by a day of association members visiting with their legislators to ask for support on an as-yet-unnumbered (and as yet unsponsored) bill to give their group special status. Despite my distaste for self-serving political endeavors, I support the group's efforts; I think they are in the best interests of the citizenry. But I loathe having to slouch around, staying close to people who are scurrying about looking for political favors.
I am exploring the limited train trip options available to my wife and me for short weekend-plus-a-day-or-two jaunt from Dallas. The options are limited, thanks to Amtrak's lack of support in Congress and, quite probably, its management's missteps (that's only a guess...I know nothing about the management of Amtrak, but feel anything funded by this government has to be suspect). We could go to Little Rock, where we could explore the Clinton Library, but our return trip would have to start in the wee hours of the morning...only one train and one track, I gather, for both directions.
My doctor is elated at my LDL cholesterol level, 29, and horrified at my blood pressure (in high orbit). Exercise, drink water, double up on Toprol, and lose weight, he says. OK. I will do those things.
Maybe if I posted my blood pressure and my weight on this blog, every week, I would have more incentive. Probably not. People would make a point of sidestepping this blog.
The foregoing words of insight and interest have been brought to you by:
Barking Burro Investments, Inc.
We make a fuss about being stubborn with your money.
Friday.
Friday. Last day of the workweek. Well, not really. But it feels good that it's Friday, anyway. I'm taking my wife out for a belated Valentine's Day dinner tonight. Puttin' on the ritz.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Globally Jovial
Today's news is, among other things, that January 2007 was the hottest January on record. Not only was it the hottest on record, the sheer size of the record is viewed by meteorologists as a significant event.
Bush and Company, morons every one, still don't support the Kyoto Accord. That bunch of fucking imbeciles have doomed life on this earth, they have.
The new U.S. imperative, under Bush:
It's so nice sitting here in the USA, knowing that our leadership has led to the prospects of the demise of civilization. And we've bombed our way across the planet to ensure that no on forgets who's the boss. Happy, happy, happy.
Lest I be branded a left-wing wierdo, I blame Democrats just as much as I blame Republicans. More than that, I blame us...you and me. If we really want a better world, we'll find a way to remove the current administration early, without being imprisoned in the process.
Here I sit in my house, whose thermostat is a bit higher than it should be, bitching about what you do. I'm the problem. And I think you are, too. Do you have blankets? Use them. It's amazing how comfortable you can be under a few layers of blankets. And you don't suck the water out of the air the way heaters do, making your home more pleasant and less likely to cause your lips to bleed.
I can preach. I can bitch. The question is whether I can react to my own rants with behaviors that make a difference. I'm betting I can.
Bush and Company, morons every one, still don't support the Kyoto Accord. That bunch of fucking imbeciles have doomed life on this earth, they have.
The new U.S. imperative, under Bush:
- Bomb countries that aren't Christian
- Burn fossil fuel as much as possible...fuck the atmosphere
- If big business can benefit, do it
- Screw the middle class...kill the lower class...the state of being monied is the only criteria for governmental largesse
It's so nice sitting here in the USA, knowing that our leadership has led to the prospects of the demise of civilization. And we've bombed our way across the planet to ensure that no on forgets who's the boss. Happy, happy, happy.
Lest I be branded a left-wing wierdo, I blame Democrats just as much as I blame Republicans. More than that, I blame us...you and me. If we really want a better world, we'll find a way to remove the current administration early, without being imprisoned in the process.
Here I sit in my house, whose thermostat is a bit higher than it should be, bitching about what you do. I'm the problem. And I think you are, too. Do you have blankets? Use them. It's amazing how comfortable you can be under a few layers of blankets. And you don't suck the water out of the air the way heaters do, making your home more pleasant and less likely to cause your lips to bleed.
I can preach. I can bitch. The question is whether I can react to my own rants with behaviors that make a difference. I'm betting I can.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Locavores?
Another homage to Indian food...I just wandered through some more blogs:
The Spice Who Loved Me
Dining Hall
Mahanandi
Tonight, with encouragement from my wife, I went beyond my tried-and-true chana dal. I made the basic recipe, then at her urging added an enormous amount of chicken stock, followed by a good 1/2 pound of mostly dark-meat chopped chicken (the generator of the stock), and then 3 links of Aidell's corn and red pepper sausage, sliced into 1/2 inch pieces. The spices in the original recipe were muted too much for my taste, but I corrected the problem by using a tablespoon or so of a very, very hot red pepper sauce, which is notable for its hunks of pepper, seeds, and other conspirators of heat.
So much for vegetarian tonight. Oh, well, I'm carnivorous, I suppose. I've just read an article in American Way about Locavores, people intent on eating locally-produced foodstuff. I like the idea. It supports my belief that we can turn back the clock on misery by buying only what is produced within easy range of where we live. Easier for me to preach it than for anyone to live it, I realize.
The Spice Who Loved Me
Dining Hall
Mahanandi
Tonight, with encouragement from my wife, I went beyond my tried-and-true chana dal. I made the basic recipe, then at her urging added an enormous amount of chicken stock, followed by a good 1/2 pound of mostly dark-meat chopped chicken (the generator of the stock), and then 3 links of Aidell's corn and red pepper sausage, sliced into 1/2 inch pieces. The spices in the original recipe were muted too much for my taste, but I corrected the problem by using a tablespoon or so of a very, very hot red pepper sauce, which is notable for its hunks of pepper, seeds, and other conspirators of heat.
So much for vegetarian tonight. Oh, well, I'm carnivorous, I suppose. I've just read an article in American Way about Locavores, people intent on eating locally-produced foodstuff. I like the idea. It supports my belief that we can turn back the clock on misery by buying only what is produced within easy range of where we live. Easier for me to preach it than for anyone to live it, I realize.
Frida
This is a photo of a wooden chair back, obviously embellished with an image of Frida Kahlo. A sister-in-law is quite a fan of Frida...even her dog is named Frida. And when I learned that my friend Bev at Burning Silo also finds Frida Kahlo intriguing, I promised I'd dredge up this photo and post it here.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Endpoint
I do not watch televised awards shows. They have never interested me, though I sometimes have been pleased to learn the outcome. I was pleased, today, to learn that the Dixie Chicks had run away with lots of awards at the Grammys. I have always liked their music. Their political position on George Bush sent me over the top, making me want to donate to their legal defense fund, should they have been incarcerated for their 'deeply anti-American' comments.
On Saturday, I responded to being tagged for a MEME and used my response to tag others. The response, to date, has been less than overwhelming. In case you didn't see it, you were probably tagged...you can read it here.
My Australian employee tendered her resignation today, a ruinous way to start the week. She and her fiance are heading back home, having had quite enough of the USA. (Actually, they love it, but they have had some family issues recently that make the call home more imperative.) With her pending departure, we're now looking for 3 new employees. Since our entire staff, me included, is only seven, an impending 3-person turnover is horrible. I'm damn near conceding defeat, seeking a job elsewhere, and living a more abundant life that gives me more time of my own. If you know any strong administrative types who want to live in Dallas, send them my way.
I'm weary, again, and need to rest. I need to be back at the office by 6 tomorrow morning. This has to stop. There has to be an endpoint.
On Saturday, I responded to being tagged for a MEME and used my response to tag others. The response, to date, has been less than overwhelming. In case you didn't see it, you were probably tagged...you can read it here.
My Australian employee tendered her resignation today, a ruinous way to start the week. She and her fiance are heading back home, having had quite enough of the USA. (Actually, they love it, but they have had some family issues recently that make the call home more imperative.) With her pending departure, we're now looking for 3 new employees. Since our entire staff, me included, is only seven, an impending 3-person turnover is horrible. I'm damn near conceding defeat, seeking a job elsewhere, and living a more abundant life that gives me more time of my own. If you know any strong administrative types who want to live in Dallas, send them my way.
I'm weary, again, and need to rest. I need to be back at the office by 6 tomorrow morning. This has to stop. There has to be an endpoint.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
MEME-Time
Several weeks ago, The Fat Lady Sings tagged me with a MEME I said would willingly accept. I've been noodling it over since then and have decided I should have deferred to another one but, having said I would do it, will respond to this one, nonetheless. I now will ask some other bloggers to do the same. If any or all of the following are willing to tackle it, I'd be delighted to read their responses to this MEME. If they would rather not, that's OK, too. I think all of us recognize that MEMEs are not everyone's cup of tea. Tag, you're it (or not):
Perils of Caffeine in the Evening
What Do I Know
La Pajaro
Burning Silo
Morning Martini
Learning to Sequence
A Curmudgeonly Crab
Come to think of it, anyone who reads this blog, consider yourself tagged!
So, here it is...the questions and my answers:
Name a book that you want to share so much that you keep giving copies away.
I don’t give copies away, but here is a tiny smattering of books recent and long-since read of which I am particularly fond:
The Perfect Storm, Sebastian Junger’s book about the 1991 storm that hit the eastern seaboard and how . As usual, the film version paled in comparison to the book. Junger is a journalist whose journalistic skills really melded well with the subject matter to produce a piece of amazing impact. The story focuses on the crew of a fishing vessel, the Andrea Gail, which is based out of Gloucester, Massachusetts. They were lost at sea during the storm.
The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx. This was my introduction to Proulx, who I now consider one of my favorite writers. The book relates the story of Quoyle, an unimpressive journalist from New York, who returns to his ancestral home in Newfoundland to cope with the bizarre implosion of his life in New York. His reintroduction to his past in Newfoundland and his capacity to deal with both his past and his emerging present make for a great story. The book won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1994.
The Year of Magical Thinking, by Joan Didion. This book follows Didion’s life during the year following the death of her writer husband, John Gregory Dunne. Her recollections and what they meant to her and what they say about how we deal with grief and personal attachment are extraordinary.
Isaac’s Storm, by Erik Larsen is a true tale of the 1900 hurricane that devastated Galveston, Texas and the meteorologist who played a pivotal role in predicting the storm and in dealing with its aftermath. The 1900 hurricane was one of the most devastating natural disasters to ever befall this country, and the story Larsen tells about it is riveting.
The Songlines by Bruce Chatwin is a book that I have not read in years and years, but is still one I remember as having been fascinating and provoking in me an odd sense of spirituality…or something…that gives me a sense that we (as in humankind) have the capacity to be, to communicate, to inform beyond the familiar physical world. I’m not a mystic, I am not religious, I do not believe in a power beyond us, so this strange sense of spirituality is contrary to me. But it’s there, buried deeply. I sometimes have a sense it’s just untapped intellect and physical capacity in humans that I sense.
Name a piece of music that changed the way you listen to music
I think Johann Pachelbel’s Canon in D made me realize, many, many years ago, that I listen to music as a means of comprehending my own emotions, rather than as a form of entertainment. For reasons completely beyond my comprehension, the first time I heard Pachelbel’s Canon I was almost instantly moved almost to tears. Ever since that time (whenever it was, in my youth), I have treated music as therapy, almost a form of self-medication. Other music of a completely different stripe that has had a similar impact on me is Angels in the Snow, a haunting piece of music written by Eric Andersen, Jonas Fjeld, and Ole Paus and which appears on an album entitled Danko/Fjeld/Andersen, a collaborative piece of Rick Danko, Jonas Fjeld, and Erik Andersen. The piece is sung in a mixture of English and Norwegian. It is an astonishingly good and moving piece of music. I’ve written on this blog about Leonard Cohen’s Tacoma Trailer, an instrumental piece that has the same impact on me as Pachelbel’s Canon in D. Other music that moves me in ways I cannot explain includes Dentro la tasca di un qualunque mattino, by Giannamaria Testa. Missing You, by Loudon Wainwright III, is another one that hits me in my heartstrings. Dimming of the Day, written by Richard Thompson and sung by almost anyone, is yet another.
Name a film you can watch again and again
There’s only one, and almost no one knows it (at least no one in my sphere): The Shout, with Susannah York, John Hurt, and Alan Bates. It is the story of a traveller, who has acquired through his travels an ability to use an aboriginal shout. He uses this capacity when he encounters a man (Hurt) and his wife (York). It is an odd, utterly unconventional film, but I could watch it a dozen times per year.
Name a performer for whom you suspend all disbelief
There are two. First, I'd say it is Judi Dench. I think she is a spectacular actress and she seems to have very good taste in the roles she takes. The next one will probably surprise you. I can watch Tommy Lee Jones in any film, playing any part, and I immediately believe he is the character he is playing. Regardless of his Texas twang.
Name a work of art you would like to live with
I will have to change the question slightly…I will recast it to be “Name a work of art you would like to live in.” The answer to that question would have to be any home designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and which had been subsequently updated to correct the inherent flaws of impracticality that I believe were designed in to virtually all of Wright’s architecture. I love the look of Wright’s houses, especially the flat-roofed, boxy-shaped homes that evoke in me a sense of chic 1950s wealth, designs that, all his “everyman” design sense notwithstanding, were available only to the wealthy. I like Wright’s work so much that my wife buys me coffee table books of his work and we buy our annual calendars with photos of his architecture.
Name a work of fiction that penetrated your real life
This is a hard and dangerous question to answer, and so I will leave it for the imagination of the reader.
Name a punch line and/or a sight gag that always make you laugh
The response attributed to Dorothy Parker, when asked by a reporter to use the word 'horticulture' in a sentence: “You can lead a horticulture but you can’t make her think.” Come to think of it, there are so many things attributable to her that I find hilariously funny.
Perils of Caffeine in the Evening
What Do I Know
La Pajaro
Burning Silo
Morning Martini
Learning to Sequence
A Curmudgeonly Crab
Come to think of it, anyone who reads this blog, consider yourself tagged!
So, here it is...the questions and my answers:
Name a book that you want to share so much that you keep giving copies away.
I don’t give copies away, but here is a tiny smattering of books recent and long-since read of which I am particularly fond:
The Perfect Storm, Sebastian Junger’s book about the 1991 storm that hit the eastern seaboard and how . As usual, the film version paled in comparison to the book. Junger is a journalist whose journalistic skills really melded well with the subject matter to produce a piece of amazing impact. The story focuses on the crew of a fishing vessel, the Andrea Gail, which is based out of Gloucester, Massachusetts. They were lost at sea during the storm.
The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx. This was my introduction to Proulx, who I now consider one of my favorite writers. The book relates the story of Quoyle, an unimpressive journalist from New York, who returns to his ancestral home in Newfoundland to cope with the bizarre implosion of his life in New York. His reintroduction to his past in Newfoundland and his capacity to deal with both his past and his emerging present make for a great story. The book won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1994.
The Year of Magical Thinking, by Joan Didion. This book follows Didion’s life during the year following the death of her writer husband, John Gregory Dunne. Her recollections and what they meant to her and what they say about how we deal with grief and personal attachment are extraordinary.
Isaac’s Storm, by Erik Larsen is a true tale of the 1900 hurricane that devastated Galveston, Texas and the meteorologist who played a pivotal role in predicting the storm and in dealing with its aftermath. The 1900 hurricane was one of the most devastating natural disasters to ever befall this country, and the story Larsen tells about it is riveting.
The Songlines by Bruce Chatwin is a book that I have not read in years and years, but is still one I remember as having been fascinating and provoking in me an odd sense of spirituality…or something…that gives me a sense that we (as in humankind) have the capacity to be, to communicate, to inform beyond the familiar physical world. I’m not a mystic, I am not religious, I do not believe in a power beyond us, so this strange sense of spirituality is contrary to me. But it’s there, buried deeply. I sometimes have a sense it’s just untapped intellect and physical capacity in humans that I sense.
Name a piece of music that changed the way you listen to music
I think Johann Pachelbel’s Canon in D made me realize, many, many years ago, that I listen to music as a means of comprehending my own emotions, rather than as a form of entertainment. For reasons completely beyond my comprehension, the first time I heard Pachelbel’s Canon I was almost instantly moved almost to tears. Ever since that time (whenever it was, in my youth), I have treated music as therapy, almost a form of self-medication. Other music of a completely different stripe that has had a similar impact on me is Angels in the Snow, a haunting piece of music written by Eric Andersen, Jonas Fjeld, and Ole Paus and which appears on an album entitled Danko/Fjeld/Andersen, a collaborative piece of Rick Danko, Jonas Fjeld, and Erik Andersen. The piece is sung in a mixture of English and Norwegian. It is an astonishingly good and moving piece of music. I’ve written on this blog about Leonard Cohen’s Tacoma Trailer, an instrumental piece that has the same impact on me as Pachelbel’s Canon in D. Other music that moves me in ways I cannot explain includes Dentro la tasca di un qualunque mattino, by Giannamaria Testa. Missing You, by Loudon Wainwright III, is another one that hits me in my heartstrings. Dimming of the Day, written by Richard Thompson and sung by almost anyone, is yet another.
Name a film you can watch again and again
There’s only one, and almost no one knows it (at least no one in my sphere): The Shout, with Susannah York, John Hurt, and Alan Bates. It is the story of a traveller, who has acquired through his travels an ability to use an aboriginal shout. He uses this capacity when he encounters a man (Hurt) and his wife (York). It is an odd, utterly unconventional film, but I could watch it a dozen times per year.
Name a performer for whom you suspend all disbelief
There are two. First, I'd say it is Judi Dench. I think she is a spectacular actress and she seems to have very good taste in the roles she takes. The next one will probably surprise you. I can watch Tommy Lee Jones in any film, playing any part, and I immediately believe he is the character he is playing. Regardless of his Texas twang.
Name a work of art you would like to live with
I will have to change the question slightly…I will recast it to be “Name a work of art you would like to live in.” The answer to that question would have to be any home designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and which had been subsequently updated to correct the inherent flaws of impracticality that I believe were designed in to virtually all of Wright’s architecture. I love the look of Wright’s houses, especially the flat-roofed, boxy-shaped homes that evoke in me a sense of chic 1950s wealth, designs that, all his “everyman” design sense notwithstanding, were available only to the wealthy. I like Wright’s work so much that my wife buys me coffee table books of his work and we buy our annual calendars with photos of his architecture.
Name a work of fiction that penetrated your real life
This is a hard and dangerous question to answer, and so I will leave it for the imagination of the reader.
Name a punch line and/or a sight gag that always make you laugh
The response attributed to Dorothy Parker, when asked by a reporter to use the word 'horticulture' in a sentence: “You can lead a horticulture but you can’t make her think.” Come to think of it, there are so many things attributable to her that I find hilariously funny.
Collective Footprints
I've been up for well over an hour, reading blogs of people who understand the impact people are having on this planet of ours. There are lots of people who are deeply aware of what we have done, are doing, and who are doing their part to change their behaviors and convince others to change theirs, as well. I think back to my odd thoughts from yesterday, wondering how many human hairs there were on my airplane and how many heartbeats are left. We're so insignificant, individually, but our collective footprints have such a horrific potential if we don't take care.
Friday, February 9, 2007
How Many Heartbeats?
I flew back to Dallas today, leaving Tucson just before 10:00 am. As the very full aircraft was winging its way back home, I noticed the two people sitting in front of me (I was on the A-B side of an MD-80, in an aisle seat). What I noticed most about these two people so close to me was the fact that their heads were full of truly thick hair. Straight, dense, hair. Probably thousands, if not tens or hundreds of thousands of strands of hair on their heads. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I began wondering how many strands of hair were on that plane.
My imagination turned to wonder. Wow, the number of strands of hair on that plane must be beyond my comprehension, truly outside my ability to understand. Then, when I started expanding the scope of my wonder beyond that tube of steel hurling through the air, I began to wonder how many strands of human hair there are in all the airplanes currently in the air...and from there, it just grew.
I've never had a particular attraction to numbers, but the scope of what I was imagining began to twist my brain into a tight spring, ready to explode with enormous power when whatever was restricting its ability to expand was released.
And then my fixation with the number of strands of human hair there must be on this earth dissolved into another number obsession: how many heartbeats will I have in my life? That curiosity made me keenly aware of the sound and feel of my heart pumping. And then, of course, my thoughts turned to my double bypass a couple of years ago. But that was brief. Back to the puzzle: how many heartbeats, not just in my life, but in all human lives, and not just those who are alive today, but all who have ever lived.
How many people, since people walked the planet, have experienced their last heartbeat? How many people have died, since humankind got its foothold on the planet?
The answers, if there are answers, tell one story more clearly than any other. Every one of us is insignificant. Not just insignificant, but astonishingly insignificant, so amazingly insignificant that any attempt we make to suggest otherwise is pure unadulterated hubris. The arrogance to think that any one of us has a truly meaningful impact on the universe is almost impossible for me to comprehend.
That's in the broad sense, of course. We're all significant to someone, sometime, for at least awhile. And, thanks to our collective arrogance and utter lack of compassion for other living things, we're having an impact on our planet from which the planet may never recover.
All that said, sometimes I'd like to know how many heartbeats I have left. If I knew, maybe I could force myself to slow the number I use every day. Maybe I could make myself take note that there's a limit to how much time I have left to enjoy the people I love and the places I go and the things I do.
We should look at our lives, what's remaining of them, in terms of the number of heartbeats we have left. My brain cannot wrap itself around millions or billions, so I will try to break it down into numbers that have more meaning to me. If I have 1000 hearbeats left, how many would I use spending time with my wife? How many would I use spending time with my siblings? How many would I use spending time at the office?
I need to call the office to let them know I won't be coming in so much anymore, unless that's the only place I can spend time with my wife.
My imagination turned to wonder. Wow, the number of strands of hair on that plane must be beyond my comprehension, truly outside my ability to understand. Then, when I started expanding the scope of my wonder beyond that tube of steel hurling through the air, I began to wonder how many strands of human hair there are in all the airplanes currently in the air...and from there, it just grew.
I've never had a particular attraction to numbers, but the scope of what I was imagining began to twist my brain into a tight spring, ready to explode with enormous power when whatever was restricting its ability to expand was released.
And then my fixation with the number of strands of human hair there must be on this earth dissolved into another number obsession: how many heartbeats will I have in my life? That curiosity made me keenly aware of the sound and feel of my heart pumping. And then, of course, my thoughts turned to my double bypass a couple of years ago. But that was brief. Back to the puzzle: how many heartbeats, not just in my life, but in all human lives, and not just those who are alive today, but all who have ever lived.
How many people, since people walked the planet, have experienced their last heartbeat? How many people have died, since humankind got its foothold on the planet?
The answers, if there are answers, tell one story more clearly than any other. Every one of us is insignificant. Not just insignificant, but astonishingly insignificant, so amazingly insignificant that any attempt we make to suggest otherwise is pure unadulterated hubris. The arrogance to think that any one of us has a truly meaningful impact on the universe is almost impossible for me to comprehend.
That's in the broad sense, of course. We're all significant to someone, sometime, for at least awhile. And, thanks to our collective arrogance and utter lack of compassion for other living things, we're having an impact on our planet from which the planet may never recover.
All that said, sometimes I'd like to know how many heartbeats I have left. If I knew, maybe I could force myself to slow the number I use every day. Maybe I could make myself take note that there's a limit to how much time I have left to enjoy the people I love and the places I go and the things I do.
We should look at our lives, what's remaining of them, in terms of the number of heartbeats we have left. My brain cannot wrap itself around millions or billions, so I will try to break it down into numbers that have more meaning to me. If I have 1000 hearbeats left, how many would I use spending time with my wife? How many would I use spending time with my siblings? How many would I use spending time at the office?
I need to call the office to let them know I won't be coming in so much anymore, unless that's the only place I can spend time with my wife.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Smell the Saguaro
Tonight, after a long but productive day in a board meeting, I went to dinner with a group consisting mostly of the people I had been in meetings with all day, plus a few spouses and significant others. We went to a restaurant called the Terra Cotta, a southwestern fusion spot in Tucson near the resort where we met. It is comfortable, not over-the-top-pricey place with an interesting menu and a very nice outdoor dining area.
At my end of the table were several people with whom I enjoyed conversation. The fiance of a board member is a pilot for a major airline. He (the pilot, and probably his fiance, lean toward republicanism but they show signs of progressiveness from time to time. They, as well as another couple seated at my end of the table, were very interested in movies. My wife would have enjoyed the conversation and would certainly have known more about the movies they discussed. I enjoyed the conversation, though, despite my illiteracy of film.
I think I could enjoy exploring Tucson. Too bad I leave so early in the morning. I scheduled my flights so that I have no time, whatsoever, to play. Lesson to learn: take time to stop and smell the saguaro.
At my end of the table were several people with whom I enjoyed conversation. The fiance of a board member is a pilot for a major airline. He (the pilot, and probably his fiance, lean toward republicanism but they show signs of progressiveness from time to time. They, as well as another couple seated at my end of the table, were very interested in movies. My wife would have enjoyed the conversation and would certainly have known more about the movies they discussed. I enjoyed the conversation, though, despite my illiteracy of film.
I think I could enjoy exploring Tucson. Too bad I leave so early in the morning. I scheduled my flights so that I have no time, whatsoever, to play. Lesson to learn: take time to stop and smell the saguaro.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
I'm Here, Just Weary
I tried to post last night, but to no avail...Blogger was being beligerent and utterly uncooperative, thus my post (which was carefully written and packed with wisdom) was left unposted. Worse, it was eaten by Blogger. And then, Blogger robbed me of my memory, so I could not re-post it...because I did not remember the details. Bad, bad Blogger! Truth be told, I'm just weary. I'm weary of telling my sad tales to the ether, tired of having sad tales to tell, tired of being one who creates sad tales for people who don't deserve them.
Tonight I am in Tucson, Arizona, preparing for a meeting of the board of directors of one of my clients...a client (and whose Board) I find particularly interesting and with whom I have much in common, despite sometimes being driven to distraction by their insanity. OK, it may be partly my fault. I like them. I wish I could spend more time directing their efforts. They need direction or, at least, reigning in.
Tonight's dinner was only $1400 and change, far below my feared estimate of $2400. I am $1000 happier than I was when the wine started flowing and the menu items were selected. They pay the bills, but I have to fit them into the budget, not always an easy thing.
All of this is tangential to tonight's story. Today, I read A Man Without a Country, by Kurt Vonnegut. The book was a spontaneous purchase at the Dallas airport (almost $14...goddamn thieves). I always enjoy Vonnegut, and I'd heard a bit about it, so I bought it. Despite the price, I'm glad I bought it. I heartily recommend it if you have 45 minutes to read a book cover to cover. Vonnegut can be awfully funny and he can be awfully brilliant with his observations of the insanity of our lives. He lambasts not only the criminal bastard who currently occupies the White House, but the flock of filth that surround him. And he's not easy on the rest of us, who could if we chose correct the problem in short order. I like Vonnegut and wish I were more like him. Aside from his writing, I admire his mood, his abilty to appreciate the world and his ability to refrain from misdirecting his outrage against the political and social screwups against those he loves. I am very, very much his unsuccessful student in that regard.
I have bad news all around, but won't share it until I can post the good news that will make the bad news seem not so burdensome. Worry not, the bad news is not life-threatening, just soul-threatening...if you think I have a soul, which I would argue against.
Now, before I go to bed and awaken to participate in an all-day Board meeting, I will view the blogs of my blog brethren (et al) to see if anything awakens me.
Tonight I am in Tucson, Arizona, preparing for a meeting of the board of directors of one of my clients...a client (and whose Board) I find particularly interesting and with whom I have much in common, despite sometimes being driven to distraction by their insanity. OK, it may be partly my fault. I like them. I wish I could spend more time directing their efforts. They need direction or, at least, reigning in.
Tonight's dinner was only $1400 and change, far below my feared estimate of $2400. I am $1000 happier than I was when the wine started flowing and the menu items were selected. They pay the bills, but I have to fit them into the budget, not always an easy thing.
All of this is tangential to tonight's story. Today, I read A Man Without a Country, by Kurt Vonnegut. The book was a spontaneous purchase at the Dallas airport (almost $14...goddamn thieves). I always enjoy Vonnegut, and I'd heard a bit about it, so I bought it. Despite the price, I'm glad I bought it. I heartily recommend it if you have 45 minutes to read a book cover to cover. Vonnegut can be awfully funny and he can be awfully brilliant with his observations of the insanity of our lives. He lambasts not only the criminal bastard who currently occupies the White House, but the flock of filth that surround him. And he's not easy on the rest of us, who could if we chose correct the problem in short order. I like Vonnegut and wish I were more like him. Aside from his writing, I admire his mood, his abilty to appreciate the world and his ability to refrain from misdirecting his outrage against the political and social screwups against those he loves. I am very, very much his unsuccessful student in that regard.
I have bad news all around, but won't share it until I can post the good news that will make the bad news seem not so burdensome. Worry not, the bad news is not life-threatening, just soul-threatening...if you think I have a soul, which I would argue against.
Now, before I go to bed and awaken to participate in an all-day Board meeting, I will view the blogs of my blog brethren (et al) to see if anything awakens me.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Bloggery, Boredom, Banality, and Biden
The morning: brief bloggery, washing dishes, blogging off and on, and worrying about client demands and my lack of focus on them.
The afternoon: lunch with my wife at a Mexican restaurant close to the office, a bit of work at the office on meeting client expectations, a 35 minute "quick" car wash that's still not complete (but I'm not $16.95 poorer, thanks to the wait), and a quick visit to a grocery store, Indian soup experimentation (and moments of delight attached thereto).
The evening so far: A quick trip with my wife to the bank to make a business deposit, a decision to buy fast-food hamburgers at Sonic instead of eating my wonderful soup (my wife's call...must be her mood), washing sweaters and long-sleeve knit casual shirts, and vain attempts to find something of interest on television so I can vegetate and be entertained. All that excitement has led to this post, an exercise in boredom. Actually, I'm just fatigued, I think, from the extra client work lately. My wife has been working 7 days a week, more hours than I put in...she is the only one with a good excuse for fatigue.
Speaking of boredom: I heard a snippet of something on NPR about boredom as I was in my car today. Something about Chairman of the Bored, I think. What banality.
Oh, Biden's comments are getting coverage. Frankly, I think they were taken out of context and were probably harmless, but we better hold our politicians to a higher standard if we want to hold on to any semblance of power and have the capacity to make change happen.
It's utterly shameless to support Biden's stupid lapse if we would not support a similar screw-up by a Republican. As much as I loathe Glen Beck on CNN, I did hear him comment on the matter and, gulp, agree with his position vis-a-vis stones and glass houses. But I suspect he changes his position to suit circumstances... Democrats and other liberals and centrists cannot afford such a luxury. We have to be steadfast, or we'll lose the hearts and minds of the masses, not to mention our own sense of morality.
The afternoon: lunch with my wife at a Mexican restaurant close to the office, a bit of work at the office on meeting client expectations, a 35 minute "quick" car wash that's still not complete (but I'm not $16.95 poorer, thanks to the wait), and a quick visit to a grocery store, Indian soup experimentation (and moments of delight attached thereto).
The evening so far: A quick trip with my wife to the bank to make a business deposit, a decision to buy fast-food hamburgers at Sonic instead of eating my wonderful soup (my wife's call...must be her mood), washing sweaters and long-sleeve knit casual shirts, and vain attempts to find something of interest on television so I can vegetate and be entertained. All that excitement has led to this post, an exercise in boredom. Actually, I'm just fatigued, I think, from the extra client work lately. My wife has been working 7 days a week, more hours than I put in...she is the only one with a good excuse for fatigue.
Speaking of boredom: I heard a snippet of something on NPR about boredom as I was in my car today. Something about Chairman of the Bored, I think. What banality.
Oh, Biden's comments are getting coverage. Frankly, I think they were taken out of context and were probably harmless, but we better hold our politicians to a higher standard if we want to hold on to any semblance of power and have the capacity to make change happen.
It's utterly shameless to support Biden's stupid lapse if we would not support a similar screw-up by a Republican. As much as I loathe Glen Beck on CNN, I did hear him comment on the matter and, gulp, agree with his position vis-a-vis stones and glass houses. But I suspect he changes his position to suit circumstances... Democrats and other liberals and centrists cannot afford such a luxury. We have to be steadfast, or we'll lose the hearts and minds of the masses, not to mention our own sense of morality.
Night Out
Before I begin, let me do my part in a web experiment. This is truth
Last night, we went to a play, Humble Boy by Charlotte Jones, about a young theoretical astrophysicist who returns home to his bee-keeping father's funeral to find that his obnoxious and domineering mother has been having an affair with another man. He struggles to cope with his relationship with his mother and her lover and with his own history of running away from things he could not control. Ultimately, what emerges in the midst of this chaos is a touching rebirth of long-lost familial ties. The first act was, to me, almost unbearably slow-paced and too long at 1 hour 25 minutes. The second act was a much faster-paced experience and much more engaging. It was worth seeing, but I'm looking forward to the next offering of the season, Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf?
We had been invited to a wine reception at the theater before the play. Because both my wife and I worked most of the day Saturday, we did not have time to eat dinner beforehand. Consequently, by the time the overly-long play was over at 10:50 pm, we were famished. We walked to our old stand-by sushi spot about 5 minutes away, hoping they would still be open. Fortunately, they were (until 11:30), so we dashed in and put in an order for 2 pieces of toro tuna, 2 pieces of unagi, and a 'volcano roll,' a wonderful dish with crunchy sushi rolls (rice filled with crisp veggies) topped with a spicy scallops and crawfish sauce. Altogether, it really wasn't much food for the two of us, but it hit the spot. I ordered a cold sake, too, just because I could. All told, the bill came to $48 with tip, a rather outlandish amount but, since we do it so rarely, worth the money to cap off the evening.
As we sat at the bar eating, we couldn't help overhearing two young women, dressed in their finest let's go hunting yuppie men cleavage-revealing clothes, seated next to us at the bar talking about their lives. We tried not to listen, but frequently I heard comments about bad boyfriends and losing jobs and moving to new cities, etc., etc.
When one of them left to go to the women's room, the other engaged us in conversation. She said she had recently lost her high-paying PR job, which she had held for eight years, with a country club management organization and was considering her options. She is single, has no ties to the Dallas area except friends, and is ready to settle down and have children. But, she said, "I haven't met the right guy yet. I've met the wrong guy twice right here at this bar. Two relationships with the wrong guy started right here."
Tonight, she said, she was beginning the procss of deciding whether to find a job in Dallas, move to New York, or move to Austin. She felt confident she could find a high-paying job anywhere she went. We talked a bit about her options and told her how much we had enjoyed living in downtown Chicago...and how nice it would be to live in New York, if the money was sufficient.
She explained that she lived in a loft apartment nearby and loved the area...she and her friends could go bar-hopping without worrying about driving home. In fact, she said, when they left the sushi place, they were going to Avanti for martinis and then to another place for more drinks and night-life, all within a very small radias of this very spot! It was girl's night out, she explained, and they were going to have a good time. "Would you all like to come with us? We're going to Avanti next, and even though you aren't a girl," she said looking at me, "you can come, too, if you don't mind us giggling."
I thanked her for the invitation, but explained that I had to drive and we would have to decline. Her friend finally returned (about 10-15 minutes later) and they left, wishing us a wonderful night. After they left, I wondered aloud whether she thought a third chance meeting in a bar might be a charm in her search for a husband.
Last night, we went to a play, Humble Boy by Charlotte Jones, about a young theoretical astrophysicist who returns home to his bee-keeping father's funeral to find that his obnoxious and domineering mother has been having an affair with another man. He struggles to cope with his relationship with his mother and her lover and with his own history of running away from things he could not control. Ultimately, what emerges in the midst of this chaos is a touching rebirth of long-lost familial ties. The first act was, to me, almost unbearably slow-paced and too long at 1 hour 25 minutes. The second act was a much faster-paced experience and much more engaging. It was worth seeing, but I'm looking forward to the next offering of the season, Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf?
We had been invited to a wine reception at the theater before the play. Because both my wife and I worked most of the day Saturday, we did not have time to eat dinner beforehand. Consequently, by the time the overly-long play was over at 10:50 pm, we were famished. We walked to our old stand-by sushi spot about 5 minutes away, hoping they would still be open. Fortunately, they were (until 11:30), so we dashed in and put in an order for 2 pieces of toro tuna, 2 pieces of unagi, and a 'volcano roll,' a wonderful dish with crunchy sushi rolls (rice filled with crisp veggies) topped with a spicy scallops and crawfish sauce. Altogether, it really wasn't much food for the two of us, but it hit the spot. I ordered a cold sake, too, just because I could. All told, the bill came to $48 with tip, a rather outlandish amount but, since we do it so rarely, worth the money to cap off the evening.
As we sat at the bar eating, we couldn't help overhearing two young women, dressed in their finest let's go hunting yuppie men cleavage-revealing clothes, seated next to us at the bar talking about their lives. We tried not to listen, but frequently I heard comments about bad boyfriends and losing jobs and moving to new cities, etc., etc.
When one of them left to go to the women's room, the other engaged us in conversation. She said she had recently lost her high-paying PR job, which she had held for eight years, with a country club management organization and was considering her options. She is single, has no ties to the Dallas area except friends, and is ready to settle down and have children. But, she said, "I haven't met the right guy yet. I've met the wrong guy twice right here at this bar. Two relationships with the wrong guy started right here."
Tonight, she said, she was beginning the procss of deciding whether to find a job in Dallas, move to New York, or move to Austin. She felt confident she could find a high-paying job anywhere she went. We talked a bit about her options and told her how much we had enjoyed living in downtown Chicago...and how nice it would be to live in New York, if the money was sufficient.
She explained that she lived in a loft apartment nearby and loved the area...she and her friends could go bar-hopping without worrying about driving home. In fact, she said, when they left the sushi place, they were going to Avanti for martinis and then to another place for more drinks and night-life, all within a very small radias of this very spot! It was girl's night out, she explained, and they were going to have a good time. "Would you all like to come with us? We're going to Avanti next, and even though you aren't a girl," she said looking at me, "you can come, too, if you don't mind us giggling."
I thanked her for the invitation, but explained that I had to drive and we would have to decline. Her friend finally returned (about 10-15 minutes later) and they left, wishing us a wonderful night. After they left, I wondered aloud whether she thought a third chance meeting in a bar might be a charm in her search for a husband.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
ClientRanting
An unexpected dinner with clients last night started my weekend off on a less-than-happy note. I was not expecting this group of 14 women to want me to make dinner arrangements for them, nor was I expecting to go out with them. But they seemed to think I should have known that it was my role to have anticipated their expectations and to have met them. This is a relatively new client, so I'm still learning. So, thanks to my wife, who co-owns our business, we got early reservations on a Friday night at a high-traffic restaurant.
The last two times I've met with the board of directors, there was no such expectation. In fact, I think we were both perfectly happy to go our own ways during non-business hours. This is a group of people who take their jobs far too seriously. At least a few of them are hyper-religious...cross-wearing, gospel-spouting, holier-than-though people with whom I share only one thing: we belong to the same species.
I tend toward being fundamentally offensive to fundamentalists of their ilk, so I assumed they'd be much happier on their own, doing what they're perpetually going on about...shopping. I have always believed it was unfair to stereotype women as addicted to shopping...I know it is unfair. But these women give the stereotype the shred of support that lets it linger. Their harping on handbags could drive me to drink.
The fact that they selected a date for their board meeting that I had not cleared for them was a bit of an upset, too. My wife and I have season tickets to a small theater nearby and this group's meeting and dinner conflicted with our tickets. Fortunately for us, we were invited by someone else to go to the same play tonight, instead, so we will. But after a long day dealing with them, I'll not be in much of a mood for a play. I'll get over it.
Tomorrow morning, I will relish a few cups of dark, strong, hot coffee and perhaps I will blog about something less mundane than my worklife and far more meaningful to the blogosphere. At least I hope so. And, of course, I will read lots of MSM and blogs and will sort through the allegations and assertions and select those I find most believable. And from there, my day will move on.
The last two times I've met with the board of directors, there was no such expectation. In fact, I think we were both perfectly happy to go our own ways during non-business hours. This is a group of people who take their jobs far too seriously. At least a few of them are hyper-religious...cross-wearing, gospel-spouting, holier-than-though people with whom I share only one thing: we belong to the same species.
I tend toward being fundamentally offensive to fundamentalists of their ilk, so I assumed they'd be much happier on their own, doing what they're perpetually going on about...shopping. I have always believed it was unfair to stereotype women as addicted to shopping...I know it is unfair. But these women give the stereotype the shred of support that lets it linger. Their harping on handbags could drive me to drink.
The fact that they selected a date for their board meeting that I had not cleared for them was a bit of an upset, too. My wife and I have season tickets to a small theater nearby and this group's meeting and dinner conflicted with our tickets. Fortunately for us, we were invited by someone else to go to the same play tonight, instead, so we will. But after a long day dealing with them, I'll not be in much of a mood for a play. I'll get over it.
Tomorrow morning, I will relish a few cups of dark, strong, hot coffee and perhaps I will blog about something less mundane than my worklife and far more meaningful to the blogosphere. At least I hope so. And, of course, I will read lots of MSM and blogs and will sort through the allegations and assertions and select those I find most believable. And from there, my day will move on.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
A Lesson from Molly
On a typical weekday, I do not blog in the mornings...I reserve that for weekends when I have more time in the morning. But today, when I learned of Molly Ivins' death, I just wanted to post a note, an acknowledgement that her passing deserved at least a moment of my time to express my sadness at her loss. If I had been able to ignore the call of clients and the obligations I had accepted at work, I would have written about her for hours. I would have expressed my sense of appreciation and loss more eloquently than just the few words I used. But, I knew that many, many people who knew or at least appreciated Molly Ivins would share their thoughts with the world. I was right. There is so much about her in the mainstream media and in the blogosphere that it's hard not to read about her impact on politics and populist expression during her 40 year career.
I appreciate that Bev at Burning Silo acknowledged my posting and added some very good links about Molly. As I read comments about Molly this evening, I came across an interesting remembrance by Jim Hightower. The more I explored his blog, the more interesting it got. As I read his blog, I learned about the Center for Responsive Politics, whose website I visited and where I learned that Amway Corporation has made $7,652,216 in contributions in the election cycles from 1990 until 2006, with 100% of the contributions going to Republicans. But I learned, too, that the biggest donor, by far, was the $38,009,064 give by the American Fedn of State, County & Municipal Employees, 98% of which was given to Democrats. It surprised me to learn from the website that, of the top ten contributors during the same time period, eight leaned Democrat and two were 'fence sitters.'
I've said before and I'll say again: I am not a Democrat, but I'm far closer to being a Democrat than to being a Republican. The candidate-purchases, or the attempts at candidate purchases, reflected by the massive political contributions reported on the Center for Responsive Politics site reinforces my distrust of, my distaste for, politicians.
Molly's skepticism helped me get over the idea that one should support one party over another. Like Molly, I support ideas and principles, not parties. I think both the Republican Party and the Democratic Party should get the message that many, many of us are of that mind...and one day, progressive independents will come out of woodwork and take this country back for those of us who value the principles upon which this nation was founded.
I appreciate that Bev at Burning Silo acknowledged my posting and added some very good links about Molly. As I read comments about Molly this evening, I came across an interesting remembrance by Jim Hightower. The more I explored his blog, the more interesting it got. As I read his blog, I learned about the Center for Responsive Politics, whose website I visited and where I learned that Amway Corporation has made $7,652,216 in contributions in the election cycles from 1990 until 2006, with 100% of the contributions going to Republicans. But I learned, too, that the biggest donor, by far, was the $38,009,064 give by the American Fedn of State, County & Municipal Employees, 98% of which was given to Democrats. It surprised me to learn from the website that, of the top ten contributors during the same time period, eight leaned Democrat and two were 'fence sitters.'
I've said before and I'll say again: I am not a Democrat, but I'm far closer to being a Democrat than to being a Republican. The candidate-purchases, or the attempts at candidate purchases, reflected by the massive political contributions reported on the Center for Responsive Politics site reinforces my distrust of, my distaste for, politicians.
Molly's skepticism helped me get over the idea that one should support one party over another. Like Molly, I support ideas and principles, not parties. I think both the Republican Party and the Democratic Party should get the message that many, many of us are of that mind...and one day, progressive independents will come out of woodwork and take this country back for those of us who value the principles upon which this nation was founded.
Molly Ivins
Someone asked me recently about my heros. I don't really have any. But Molly Ivins comes about as close as anyone to being a hero, in my eyes. She died of breast cancer on January 31, 2007. What an enormous loss to intelligent debate and no-holds-barred reporting. She will be sorely missed.