Have I mentioned lately how much I dislike the telephone? This is not a phobia or even anxiety over the use of a phone, and not aimed at any version of the telecommunications device in particular. It’s a dislike of the device in general.
Most people openly wonder about my sanity because they LOVE their telephones and spend 73.6% of their lives talking on their cell phone, or playing games on their smart phone, or checking Facebook or e-mail on their phone. I don’t do any of the latter and avoid doing the former. I just don’t like telephones. Cell phones in particular. My friends berate me for my refusal to join The Collective. Continue reading Telephone Telefollies→
The thing is that I don’t know enough about the thing to be able to quantify the thing well enough to discuss it accurately. Not that anyone cares about that; so many people spout off about so much without knowing much of anything about that thing.
Knowing what one was talking about would require the acquisition of facts. Who has time for that? Facts are anachronistic: relics from a bygone era when people cared about truth. No one cares about facts now. No one cares about truth now. What matters now is how the thing makes you feel. Emotions are what rule our society now that The Enlightened have taken over.
Those who become indignant when The Enlightened burn homes and loot businesses of innocent bystanders because someone said or did something that upset The Enlightened, are knuckle-dragging bigots, bent on hauling society back into the caves of law, order, and morality.
I received a Notice of Complaint today. It came from the law firm of Dewey, Barkum, and Howe and notifies me that a complaint of animal neglect and criminal deprivation has been lodged against me. The plaintiffs in this action are identified as “The House Dogs”.
More and more I encounter people who talk about how much they’re involved in and how many things they do. Quite often this is delivered in the form of complaint. I have to wonder, who is it that puts these burdens upon them? Is it not they themselves who choose to engage in so many activities?
I also note that some of these people are not especially good at some of the things they do. Some seem to be forever working toward things they never actually achieve: chasing after something that eludes them because they’re weighed down with too much detritus not related to that goal.
Our modern world sets this scenario as being the norm and anyone who is not over-burdened is lazy. I see sayings like, “If you want something done, give it to the busiest person you know.” At first glance that seems to make sense, but upon deeper examination it falls apart. Is that person “busy” because as soon as they finish one task they take on another or because they accomplish little: just trying to keep all the plates spinning? Too often it is the latter. Continue reading Being Busy vs Being Productive→
It is a humbling thing to be confronted with the fact that you are not Superman. You can no longer do things you once could … or rather, when you do them anyway you pay a hefty price. Stamina fades faster that it once did. And concepts you were confident you could handle turn out to be deeply distressing.
This is a big part of why I said “farewell” to my co-workers at the Humane Society of Jefferson County today. This was a bittersweet parting for I do need to rest and heal but I have enjoyed working with the animals, and the people, and I have learned a lot: especially in the realm of medical treatments and testing.
All of the staff members were (are) great to work with: patient while I was learning (for there is a great deal to learn) and helpful when I lagged behind. I found no petty rivalries here: they are a team of big-hearted, hard working people dedicated to providing a clean, safe environment for the animals in their care, and then finding them homes again. There are also some wonderful volunteers who step in to help and will work hard without pay. These volunteers deserve an extra helping of praise.
On the one hand, I love working with the animals. Except maybe the rats: I still can’t say I enjoy the rats. As a youngster I wanted to be a veterinarian, but that was not to be. The medical side of this job has been as close to that as I’ve come. And I liked it. I like every one of the people who I worked with, and will miss them.
On the other hand, I will again have time to spend with the 6 dogs I have at home: some are pets, some are fosters. I’m supposed to be training the fosters, I will again have time to actually do that. These animals will be thrilled to NOT be cooped up and on their own all day, almost every day. I will also have the opportunity to let my abused body heal, and to catch up on the “office” work that has been piling up while I was occupied elsewhere.
So I’m moving on. Or stepping back or … maybe sideways. It’s hard to say yet. But I feel this is the right thing to do, even if it’s not easy.
The Rescue group I work with (Steele Away Home) was supposed to have a medical day yesterday (Friday) so I requested to be off work that day — since I have two dogs that needed to be spayed or neutered. But the mobile vet clinic would not start, so the medical day got rescheduled to next Thursday. I work Thursday — I’m off Monday and Wednesday. Monday I’m supposed to take Marie’s car to the mechanicn place.
Today I asked around work if anyone would swap days with me. Bobby said he needed to be off Monday because his wife has a doctor’s appointment and he needs to stay home to take care of their 3 kids. That would complicate getting Marie’s car to the mechanic, but we could drop it off Sunday, so I agreed to the swap. That means an extra trip into town and leaving her car in the parking lot overnight, but … it would be there so they could get started on it Monday morning.
When I got home there was a message on the answering machine. It was from Bobby. His wife’s appointment is Wednesday this week, not Monday as usual: the first time that’s ever happened! So he’d rather swap Wednesday for Thursday not Monday for Thursday.
Last week there was a fence/gate repair job that needed doing at work. A co-worker, Bobby, and I were asked to take a look at it and see what we could do. The boss had some parts that might help. They even had a toolbox … of sorts.
Bobby had recently been assigned the task of cleaning out several junk drawers, finding all the tools and putting them into a donated toolbox, sorting through the rest: toss the detritus and sort the usable “stuff” into big plastic bags by category. So our task now was simpler.
However, the toolbox consisted of 3 hammers, a half-dozen badly abused screw drivers, and a pair of pliers. We decided to bring tools from home and do the job the next day. Bobby wasn’t there the next day, so I accomplished the job with the tools I brought. All I was missing was a set of deep sockets (which I didn’t have but Bobby did) and a ratchet. But I did the job with a crescent wrench. The sockets do the job faster and with fewer bloody smears on the fencing, but a crescent wrench will do in a pinch.
I wanted to double the hinge at the top of the gate (which is at least 8 feet wide, maybe more) to keep it from twisting the hinge again. I lacked one part and a couple of bolts to do that. I picked up the hardware on my day off. I also decided to assemble a usable toolbox.
This, supposedly humorous, picture has been making the rounds on Facebook. I imagine we’ve all spaced out behind the wheel of our motor vehicles once or twice. What is frightening is that this post has collected dozens of comments from people who say they’ve done it. Many say it’s happened several times. Some say it happens to them frequently. That is worrisome, and the biggest reason I can think of to push for the development of self-driving cars.
My Twin-Brother-By-Another-Mother and I have discussed this a few times, and the following is a melding of our ideas.
Self driving motor vehicles will be a novelty that catches on slowly. People described above will be the primary customers: people who, for whatever reason, cannot manage to pay attention to their driving will see self driving cars as a great convenience. As the vehicles on the road become primarily self-driving, society will be ready for the next step. Continue reading The Future of Motor Vehicles and Travel→
I heard an interesting program on the radio yesterday. It started by citing a poll which asked people, “If you were offered a thousand dollars to forgo the traditional Thanksgiving celebration, would you do it?” The majority of those asked stated they would pass on the money because their traditional celebration with family is too important to them.
That’s a good answer: family should be more important than money. But in many cases Thanksgiving seems to have gone the way of most “traditional” holidays: especially this year.
With social and political issues causing deep rifts in families and social groups, can your gathering be kept civil and respectful of one another? Can you be thankful for their presence in your life and at your table?
Every year I hear more people moaning about the amount of work and expense they had to put into preparing The Feast and cleaning up after. If these are things you dread as it approaches and complain about afterward, can you be truly thankful for any of it?
Has this holiday lost its meaning? Do you spend more than 23 seconds just before you eat being thankful for anything, or is it all about a long weekend, gluttony, football, and a big party?
If you are celebrating Thanksgiving, make it about being thankful. If you cannot be thankful for what you have, where you are in life, and for your family and friends; you might as well skip the whole thing, or tell the gang, “We’re going out for dinner – and it’s Dutch treat.”
Five high-pitched beeps, each just short of a second long, sounding in regular succession. This is preceded by a gurgling sound that I don’t always hear. That depends on where I am. The beeps, however, are just piercing enough that I will hear them.
Five electronic beeps that sing a melody-less song of hope. Signaling that the rich Colombian elixir is ready. That elixir which chases away the 4 am cobwebs and stirs the blood.
Five electronic beeps, “I am ready for you, master. Come, partake of me. Fill your cup and drink me in.”
A five note siren song, drawing me to the kitchen, a mug, steamy warmth nestled in my hands as I trod the dark hallway to the den, my desk, my work.
Oh, the song of the morning. Long before sunrise. Invigoration that prepares me for creation, for study, for contemplation.
I hum a song of gladness, of gratefulness, to The Maker, for the maker of coffee.