No Mo

I've been looking forward to joining NaNoWriMo.org (National Novemer Writer's Month) since June. This was the 4th time I signed up, and this year I was determined to be ready, to hit the ground running, and to finish. I even trained for the event with this blog.

Well, the good news is that I'm still going to finish a book this year, for the first time ever. The bad news is NaNoWriMo itself. The kindly group of cheerleaders who used to offer inspiration to the 'Little Writer Who Could' morphed into a fundraiser.

I get it. It's a big job to keep a site up and running with such a big audience. People need to get paid. I might have kicked in someday, if I'd made-money-from-writing, thanks-to-their-encouragement. Which, of course, never happened. Frankly, I'd like to get paid for my time. I'm not. Why are they asking me for money?

Their 'hook' was that donations will help young writers who can't afford camps, workshops, and training. Apparently old writers who can't afford camps, workshops and training are dog-do. Seems to me that people with life experience who are trying to turn their lives around, and don't have lots of resources (or years) to do so, need assistance more.

There's also the feeling that they're milking the wrong cows. Markets for writers are drying up. Publishers become fewer and fewer. As more people give up on the job market, more of them decide that they may as well try write that book. So we have more writers than ever, and it's harder than ever to get a pay day. Seems like the wrong group to hit up for funds.

So I bailed out of Fundraising Central and took a full week off to get the bad taste out of my mouth. Now I'm starting again with a new attitude. Instead of NaNoWriMo, I'll celebrate "Personal Author's Year-end-Motivated Endeavor." PAY-ME pledges to motivate and encourage a struggling author, me, to finish her book by the end of 2014.

The time for fundraising will be when the book is finished. The fundraising drive will be correctly aimed at a target market of publishers and/or actual readers. So no donations, please. All I ask is encouragement.

Too Much Stuff Two: The Sequel

We've collected all the wrong stuff. We've saved all the wrong stuff. Why did we do it?  What are we to do with all this? I'm looking at our collection of one-thousand VCR tapes. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson with cassettes. Or perhaps not, since I still have a few dozen of those too.

Will I be stuck looking at the dratted things until the day I die? I wish I could do the same as we do with leftovers. ("I didn't like the meal, but I can't just toss this much food... so I'll put it in the refrigerator until it grows fuzz, then I'll toss it!") But alas. Tapes don't grow fuzz. They sit there in their cases forever. Even if the tape decomposes, fuzz will not result.

I could put them into boxes on the floor until Hubby trips on one and gets mad, then toss them. There are, however, four things wrong with that. One, I love Hubby and don't want him to trip. Two, the tapes might still be watchable. Three, doing anything with them would suck days out of my life, and I have a book to write. Four, there's no floor space left for boxes.

That's not all I collect. My beautiful Waterford crystal takes up 2 full shelves of the china cabinet, and china takes 4 more shelves. It's lovely, but I don't dare use any of it. Fears of lead content and radiation are valid enough that I don't need to go further. If I went further, I would mention dishwashers and microwaves. We use them constantly. They are the natural enemies of fine china and crystal. Nuf said.

Also lovely are my numerous collections of figurines, knick-knacks, and breakables. They were never meant to be used for anything. They're just for looks. Some are cherished mementos of my grandmas and my great-aunt, which means I'll be keeping them. Together with the crystal and dishes, that's 4 china cabinets full plus 4 cupboards plus any other storage and display space I can find.

Then there's stuff we saved because "you can't toss stuff that cost us so much." We have tons of old computer stuff. 3 1/4 floppies? We have hundreds. CD-ROMS? At leads a thousand. The old computers themselves? Many. Oh, and the cables! Parallel cables, Serial cables, SCSI cables, and proprietary cables for dozens of peripherals. The cables alone take up 4 big boxes.

Nor did we toss the peripherals. Our 1992 modems were quite the speedy dial-up connectors back in the day. And those zippy 4x CD-ROM players? Totally rad once. Now they take up space. No doubt they still work, but with what? And again, they cost so much money when we bought them.

Of course there are things we might actually need mixed among the useless stuff, so throwing it away by the boxload is not an option. I need to sort. But If I did, I'd want Hubby to participate, and he would have a fit if I threw away any of his 'stuff,' unless it flat-out didn't work. Sigh.

I thought I had the answer a few blogs back. Sell tickets to view the incredible mess... er, 'collections.' An even earlier blog advises, "Buy nothing and have the money." Alas, nobody listens to my advice, even me.

Daylight Savings Turmoil

Daylight savings time has ended and it's time to "fall back." Another round of deciding whether to change the bedroom clock radio or just mentally subtract an hour. You may think that's lazy of me, and you'd be right, but there's more to it than that. There's a barricade of heavy boxes that I'd have to move to reach it.

Also, the clock radio is so old that it could very well crumble to dust if I touch it. Last, I don't remember exactly how to do it. I had to move a switch and press 2 buttons. (Or was it 2 switches and one button?) Nothing is labeled "hour" or "h" or anything logical.

Another downer with the time change is knowing darned well it is bedtime, but your favorite shows are still on and you have more to do after they're over. Right now my body is telling me I can go to bed in an hour but my eyes are telling me I have to stay up because the cat needs food before her insulin shot at 9.

Every year I sing the same lament. Springtime is a busy time and it hurts the schedule to have that hour taken away. Many's the time I've been rushed, even late, because the time change slipped my mind. Now that it's fall, I don't need the hour... don't even want it. As I already said, I'm tired and want it to be bedtime.

Changing the clock is also a reminder that we should change all the batteries in our smoke alarms. However, half of ours are equipped with those new 10-year lithium ones that won't need changing until 2020-something. The other half? I don't recall which they are, but they'll chirp their heads off when they need changing. They're good at that.

Who thought of Daylight Savings Time anyhow? I suppose back in the day more people had office jobs with 8-to-5 schedules. I guess it would give Joe Average enough time to do some active, outdoorsy stuff after work. These days, however, if you leave the office at 5 you are either a slacker or a member of Congress... possibly both.

But we're stuck with it for now, so there's no sense being a total grump about it. It is what it is. There's talk of just staying on it forever. That would be a decent solution, and I hope it happens. Still, I can't help but wonder... why didn't we just start and finish work at the right time in the first place?

Halloween Horror Story (Eeeeep!)

We had hoped to get through Halloween without any horrors, but it wasn't to be. Hubby came downstairs and, at at the base of the stairway, the carpet was squishy wet. (Eeeeeek!)

Where did the leak lurk? We know water accumulates under the stairs. Our first leak years ago was caused by condensation on an air conditioning line. It had no place to drip except onto the floor. All summer long. The bills totaled up to a terrifying amount. We've had several leaks since, all in the area where our HVAC and water heater reside. (Yaaagh!)

We bravely set out to see what was leaking. We don't have a spooky basement to descend into, but the closets to the water heater and HVAC were plenty scary enough. The doors creak loudly. Our active spider population supplies enough webs and creepie-crawlies to terrify any homeowner, and we hadn't opened the closets for at least 2 years. (Shrieeeeek!)

Hubby spotted the leak. It was a water line connected to the water heater. Water was spritzing out of it. The leak was probably about the size of a large pinhole; or a small spider fang, if you want to stay in the Halloween spirit. (Yipes!)

Also in keeping with the mischievous spirits of Halloween, today was the day we were finally supposed to get our rain. Sure enough, it started just as Hubby stepped on the squishy spot. The door to the water heater is outside, so we got drenched looking for the leak. Once we got back indoors the rain stopped. (Doom dum DAAAAAA!)

At this point in a spooky movie, people get nervous and call for help, only to find that help can't reach them... they're on their own. Sure enough, our plumber was booked solid. The emergency plumber who once replaced our water heater did not answer; his answering machine said that 'someone would call back when they could.' (Nooooooooo!)

Our regular plumber gave us the number of a fellow plumber who was reliable. We called him and he promised to be there in 2 hours. That's a long time to wait when a pipe is spritzing. Duct tape made the leak worse, so we knew we'd have to not use any water until everything was fixed. (Yowww!)

After 2 anxious hours the sky opened and the rain poured. It got so dark we had to turn on the lights. Then... there was a knock on the door. I half expected an enraged water beast, but it was the plumber. I led him through the pouring rain to the spider-closet of doom, then fled to shelter. (Squelch! Squelch!)

Once I got inside the rain let up. The plumber fixed the line and the only terror left was the bill (Howl!) 

So if kiddies come to the door tonight expecting to scare us, they'll be disappointed. We've already had our scare, and lived to tell the tale. (Sinister organ music plays....)

Seconds on the Whine

I'm still not through whining about media. My first glass of whine today is another round for the music business.

A song once claimed that 'Video Killed the Radio Star' but for me the real killer was greed. Radio died because nobody paid the talent. Why pay a DJ when you can play a canned program for a fraction of the price? Why pay ASCAP and BMI when you can have a talk show instead? There's an infinite supply of ranting jerks willing to call in for free.

As a result, music moved to the Internet, where paying customers and talent spend entire lifetimes trying to find each other in the midst of a world's worth of content. As reported previously, I'm not having much luck as a paying customer.

My second glass of whine is because of TV. TV has jumped onto the 'let's not pay the talent' bandwagon in a big way. It's called 'reality TV' and there's not much of it to like. They cut corners in all the wrong places. Where are the good scripts, the good acting, and good old-fashioned production?

I do understand that it's a big investment to do a TV show. For a producer, it's a long, expensive trek from pilot to pitch. When there's nothing left in your pocket but lint, will the network even listen to your pitch? You have no guarantee. I get why corners are cut. It just seems like maybe scripts and actors shouldn't be in those corners.

Well, at least there are movies. Special effects are better than ever. There is no shortage of top-notch professional actors on the silver screen. There are definitely scripts, well-written and... hauntingly familiar? Hey! What's with all the remakes and sequels? I think I need another glass of whine.

Two Terms Too Many

Today I mailed in my ballot. Hopefully I navigated through the smoke and mirrors well enough to choose from the best of a poor lot. Whether yea or nay, some will win, some will lose. Measures that fail might reappear in some future election, reworded and dressed in a new suit. Or not. Issues come and go.

You know what else I wish would come and go? Congresspersons! This is a new rant for me. My usual cyclical rant is about jury duty. Every year when my name comes up I gripe and moan that they still haven't implemented a plan for professional jurors. Then, once I'm off the hook, I forget all about it until the next year.

But Congress! They never go away, except when they should be in session. (Which isn't often. They've only been in session 92 days this year, none of them lately.) Once they're through hitting us up for election funding and a vote, they'll scurry off to do nothing... if we're lucky. If they do anything, it will involve screwing over the middle-income people in favor of the way-too-rich pseudo-people (aka corporations).

If there's one nice thing we can do for our grandchildren, it's to pass a two-term limit. I don't think we can pull it off with the current cast of characters in charge, but we could at least try to 'grandfather out' this 'congressperson-for-life' stalemate.

Speaking of grandfathering, Congress isn't the only entity that needs to have an expiration date. We're looking at you, Senate and the Supreme Court! People making laws and decisions about technology should not be too old and confused to understand it and use it.

So I'm all for getting the great-great grandfathers "grandfathered" out of D.C. at some future point. However, I'll try not to rant too much about it. I don't want to sound like one of those grumpy old people who obscess on one issue. I might be mistaken for a congressperson!

Halloween Then and Now

Halloween is a fun holiday for me. It's been interesting to watch it evolve through the years. Some things today are so much better; others... not so much.

There was no easy way to rent or buy a quality costume back then. There were only boxed costumes from the dime store. They consisted of thin fabric (I'll call it 'fray-on') with skeleton bones, or a Superman emblem, or whatever, printed on the front. The mask was a plastic face held in place with a flimsy elastic thread. One night wearing a dime-store mask and a fray-on costume was enough. After that, I 'planned ahead' for all future costumes.

There were accessories one could buy for a do-it-yourself costume. I recall hats of all kinds. There was also face paint, wax teeth and lips, and the most awful wigs imaginable. I remember seeing a black 'wig' that looked like piles of pocket lint dipped in black paint, then glued to a piece of flimsy burlap. It was far scarier than the witch costume it came with.

Today's costumes are so much better. Click here to see selections from Party City's website. You'll see what I mean.

Which brings me to the candy. They handed out BIG candy bars in my childhood. They were about the size of the ones in vending machines today. It's been interesting to watch them shrink through the years. Today's 'fun size' is barely fun at all. Candy was far better back in the day.

Trick-or-treating has evolved over the years too. I grew up in the free-range era, when kids went out to play every day. I knew all the neighbors and their kids. We lived on a dead-end hill, so the trick-or-treat route was up one side of the street to the Murdoch's place, down the other side of the street to the McClellean's house, then home. (With extra time at the Swenson's, because they dressed in costumes to hand out the treats. Cool people!)

These days there is still door-to-door trick or treating, but not so much. The problem is that people don't know their neighbors. People trick-or-treat at malls rather than knock on doors because it's safer. Yesteryear was better.

So... yesteryear wins for treats and trick-or-treats, 'today' wins for costumes. The final comparison is media, and 'today' wins, hands-down. We used to just have Charlie Brown; now we have that, plus Simpson's Treehouse of Horror, and Nightmare Before Christmas. Speaking of which... time to go watch. I have my couch potato costume on already. It's very comfy.

Can I Sample That Platter?

I'm trying to buy music for my music library. Many blogs ago, I mentioned that it was time to 'get with it' and find some new artists and titles. Well, this weekend I finally gave it a try.

The question was how to find artists and songs I like. I'm pretty picky. These days you don't have to buy the whole album. One buys individual tunes, and one buys these tunes online. That's great for a picky person. I went to the Internet to find some new songs. But... I couldn't find any.

It isn't that there is no music to be found on the Internet. It's the opposite. There's far, far too much. This analogy will help you see what I mean:

Imagine you want a small snack to tide you over until supper. It's a good chance to try something different than the usual fare, to see if you like it.

The only source of snacks is a mega-mart with food stacked 2 stories high. No box of food is the same as any other. Nothing is labeled. It could be yummy. It could be lizard dung. Samples are sometimes available but you can't try anything unless you have a special plate. To get that plate, you have to give a stranger your personal information. (Hope he doesn't have a virus!)

You finally find a plate-person you trust. You try samples. One of them is tasty... not at all like lizard dung. You head to the check-out counter, but they don't accept cash or credit cards. You have to open an account. You ask if this account lets you buy anything in the store from now on. It won't. You may need to open many accounts. It depends on what snack you buy.

By now you've lost your appetite, and you're worried that the tiny sample might taste better than the rest of the snack. You decide to head back to your own pantry for food you know you like.

That's how I felt on the Internet, looking for my musical 'snack.' It's overwhelming. Some artists have labels, some are independent (they're called 'indie,' Mom). There are just too many places to look.

Back in the day it would have been so simple. I could have listened to the radio. There were stations for every genre. The DJ had a new menu every week. You sampled the whole song. If you heard one you liked, you could buy it. You knew exactly what you were getting.  But alas! There aren't enough radio stations, and the ones that are still around might not be English-speaking. They might not even play music.

So it's back to the Internet for me, to keep looking for a few good bands. Maybe I'll find one called 'Lizard Dung.'

They've Got You Covered

Now that Ebola is the latest scare, I wonder what the insurance companies will do about it? I suspect they are rolling out their tiered coverage plans:

Premium Deluxe CEO Plan - 20 doctors in designer hazmat suits will care for you. You'll be whisked to a pristine private room in a sterilized 'stretch-Humvee.' We offer premium cable, or we can bring in famous authors to personally read their latest bestseller. Chef Ramsey will prepare your IV using fresh local medications of the highest quality.

Your loved ones will be quarantined in a 5-star facility with an 'ocean view' suite of rooms. Full room service is available 24/7. Attractive young nurses will take temperatures twice daily. Of course full cable and high-speed internet are provided in every room, including the bathroom. First-run movies are available on demand.

Platinum Executive Plan - Sterile ambulance takes you to a pristine private room in a top-notch facility. 20 well-trained medical staff in upgraded hazmat suits will care for a maximum of 10 patients in the facility. Premium cable, 24-hour monitoring.

Your loved ones will be quarantined in at least a 3-star facility in a 2-room suite with a mountain view. Premium cable and high-speed internet are included. Skilled nurses will take everybody's temperature twice daily. 24-hour room service, alcohol not included.

Deluxe Executive Plan - Steam-cleaned ambulance takes you to private hospital room in an Ebola care facility. A well-trained staff in regulation hazmat gear will care for you. A nurse will be on call 24/7.

Your loved ones will be quarantined in a deluxe 2-star room. Trained medical staff will take temperatures daily. Room service from 6 to 9, 11:30 to 1:00, and 5 to 10. Cable and high-speed internet are included for their use.

Junior Executive Plan - You provide your own transportation to a designated Ebola facility. A clean, semi-private room will be provided. Designer plastic sheets will divide the room, protecting you and your roommate from cross-contamination.

Your family will be quarantined in the comfort of their own home. They will each receive a regulation thermometer, and an access code to the National Ebola Monitoring Facility, where they can input their temperature daily and access a qualified nurse to answer questions.

Basic-Plus Plan - Our fast-pass ticket puts you ahead of everybody else in the queue for a shared hospital room. Your quarantined-at-home loved ones will get 15% vouchers for delivery food, which will be left at the door by a delivery boy in a hazmat suit.

Basic Coverage - We mail you a thermometer, a map to the emergency room nearest you, and a floor-length plastic poncho and surgical mask to wear when you get to there. If a room is available you will get it.

No Service Makes Me Nervous

When I'm out and about, and I see 'self serve,' I'm immediately on the lookout for an alternative. It's not a 'spoiled princess' thing... I don't get off on being served. It's not even a lazy thing; my laziness manifests in other ways. It's more about conversation, enjoyment and competency.

Take buffets, for example. How can you have a decent conversation when everyone at the table is hopping around like crickets the whole time?

Me --- "So, Joan, how was your trip? Did you meet anyone fun?"
Joan - "Did I ever! Tall, dark, and Speedo. And his pick-up line..."
Jan -- "Hold that thought! I need more salad." (runs off to salad bar)
Joan - "I may as well get more soda."
Lori - "While she's there I'm going to grab some of that cake."
Me --- "Dang! I'm late for work and still haven't heard the story."
Joan - (returns to table) "That's ok, I'll email you later."

It's not just the conversation. It's being able to sit down and take a break during a long, active day.

Then there's competency. How in tarnation am I supposed to know if the big-box hardware store has the part I need? I can't even guess which aisle it's in. It's worse for clerk-less department stores. There are clothes everywhere, some displayed by brand, others by clearance, and everything is 'separates.' "Dang it, somebody give me a clue how to find a whole outfit!"

There's also that I'm a klutz, so I'm liable to drop a tray of food before it gets to the table. I'm slow too, so bagging those groceries may take longer. ("What's your hurry, all you people behind me?")

Finally, there's the principle of the thing. I don't like giving a business money when they're too cheap and greedy to hire help. They say they're passing the savings on to the customer, but:

1. The prices aren't all that much better
2. If saving money was my objective, I'd stay home and save even more.

Being older and wiser, I know that the day is coming when I'll need help to the car. I'll need food brought to the table, and I'll appreciate advice on confusing products and hard-to-locate items. If I don't patronize the businesses that hire this sort of help, they may not be around just when I need them most.

So next time I'm at the buffet and they ask me what I want, I'm going to say, "A waiter."

Am I Too Late for the Garbage?

Today I was minding my own business when I noticed mail in the tray. It was from a the county, and it looked official. Usually mail that looks official is carefully crafted to look that way. You open it, and surprise! Someone wants to sell you insurance. I was curious who was pestering us this week so I opened it.

Surprise! Not insurance! If was a notification that this was our last chance to raise an objection to the new waste surcharge. But it had to be in writing, with our official residential customer number on it, and sent in to them in time for their meeting yesterday.

Well, too late for that. I read on to see what it was about. It seems we will have an extra yearly assessment tacked onto our garbage collection fee this year. The extra money is necessary so they can pay somebody to sift through everybody's garbage to see what people toss in the trash that could have been recycled.

They would publish the results in an annual report that we could all view online. Oboy! How useful! The report can tell us all that we could be recycling more instead of throwing stuff away. I could have told them that for free. This sounded like an idea somebody had in the 90s when people had more money and loftier ideals.

Thinking about it, that's $2 per year for every single household resident in the county, and far more for businesses and apartment complexes. That's a pretty hefty chunk of change. Somebody in the county is getting rich from this little political ploy. It passed unanimously. Remind me not to vote for any incumbants.

This is the same county that assessed us $15 per year extra for a tri-city hazmat station because there wasn't enough revenue to support it anymore. The money to support it used to come from the fees paid at landfills, but now that everybody is recycling...

This is also the same county that sends us snarky messages that we shouldn't recycle anything that food has had contact with, and to please rinse the scum and residue off the bottles and containers, thank-you-very-much.

The next item in the mail pile was a newsletter from the water company reminding us that we are in the midst of the most severe drought in local history, and to please, please, please not use water unless we absolutely have to.

I shredded everything and was careful to put it in the recycle bin, not the trash. Now that we have well-paid garbage police, I wouldn't want them knocking on our door. They might haul me off to recycle jail, and who would stop them? The real police? Unlikely. They don't have enough people on the force... no money.

Dental Health and Scold Fillings

It's that time of the year again. Dentist time. Time for trauma, pain, discomfort, a small dose of radiation, and a big scold for not flossing. Then I have to give them money for it.

Through the years dental care sure has changed. As a kid I was told to brush hard to prevent cavities. At age 30 I was scolded for brushing too hard, because it was making my gums recede. "Why did you do that?" they asked. ("Because that's what you told me to do?")

Later that decade I was scolded because I had the wrong kind of fillings. "You'll need to have those removed and replaced with porcelain, Ma'am. Those silver fillings contain mercury, which is bad for you. Shall we schedule an appointment now?" I told them I'd do it 'later.' (Perhaps 2025? By then they'll discover porcelain is bad... maybe I'll get gold.)

As a white-knuckle patient, I appreciate 'laughing gas,' a.k.a. nitrous oxide. It doesn't do much for pain, but it is relaxing. Alas, I asked my previous dentist for it, and he told me, "No." I felt like I'd been scolded for requesting recreational drugs. I yelped and whined through the whole cleaning process. He might re-think his policy in the future if he gets more patients like me.

The x-ray ritual has also changed. They used to put you in a lead poncho and fire away with the x-ray machine while you tried not to gag on the cardboard bits they stuffed in your mouth.  It's less awful now, but they still take x-rays. I'm careful never to move. I don't want a scold.

These days, parents are required by state law to take their child to a dentist before kindergarten. I was fortunate with my teeth in younger years and didn't need many visits. I was more fortunate with my parents. They were perfectly capable of knowing when their kids needed a dentist without the state scolding them.

Growing up, most older people had false teeth. In my middle years, dentists actually asked patients if they planned on still having their teeth in old age. I said, "Of course," wondering who would say no to that. Then I overheard the guy in the next cubicle saying, "No way." These days they don't ask. It's assumed you'll keep your teeth if you possibly can.

So I'm off to do what I can about keeping my teeth. It will probably be the same routine. The cleaning process will grate on every nerve, and I will whimper and whine. I'll come home determined to floss every night so it won't be so bad next time. There's probably a nightly reminder app I could install, but it would probably scold, and I've had my fill of that.

Don't Snicker at Knickers

I previously wrote about the problems we women had with the fashion industry back in the olden days. (Click here for a link to that blog.) Fashions may change, but the problems continue. The fashion industry loves to introduce trends and styles that are not considered 'modest' or 'acceptable' to everybody.

The latest trend is 'leggings.' These are form-fitting pants made out of stretchy material. These days it's hard to find pants at fashionable stores that are not leggings. Leggings aren't much different from the pants women wore in the 80s. However, in the 80s, women always wore long 'tunic tops' over the pants. This year's styles do not require long tops.

Predictably, schools across the country have had some negative reactions. Girls have been sent home. I'm sure they are as confused as we were back in the day. They buy the clothes the stores sell if they want to be 'in style.' Then they are told they can't wear them.

I searched to see what people had to say about leggings in the workplace. Opinions ranged from, "Totally inappropriate in all cases," to "Depends on how they look." I didn't see any stories of women who were sent home. I suppose women old enough to be in the workplace are wise enough to know what's appropriate, or at least what they can get away with.

According to family legend, my Great-Aunt Lillian wore knickerbockers to her workplace (the phone company, I think.) No clue whether they sent her home or not. The year was 1931.. About 35 years before Grandma (other side of the family) wore her first pantsuit in public.

Aunt Lillian certainly looks professional and decently-covered in this picture... also a bit defiant, don't you think? If anybody could get away with knickers, I think it would be her.

My attitude to both dress codes and fashion trends is less assertive, but I think Aunt Lillian would approve. I only wear things that are comfortable. If they happen to be out of style, so what? In another 25 years they'll be back.

A Changing 'World'

'World of Warcraft' will launch a new expansion in November. That seems like a good thing. The frequent players are very tired of the same ol', and I'm very tired of listening to them whine about how bored they are.

Last week a lot of changes were implemented to prepare for the expansion. Now I realize it isn't such a good thing after all. They 'fixed' a lot of things that I didn't think were 'broken.'

They gave our characters new 'skins' and better animation. I like the better animation, but the 'skins' (namely the faces) are uglier and more angry-looking. It took away from the cartoon-y aspects of the game... something I rather liked. It's darker now, more grim. Ugh.

They took away some of the spells and attacks I preferred to use against the bad guys. They changed others beyond comprehension.

They do this all the time, and I'm sick of it. The cycle of 'simplify' and 'complicate' continues to chase its tail. Here are some examples of the changes taken from the actual patch notes:

"Solar Beam no longer Silences a target again more than once per cast. Additionally, the Silence effect from this spell now shares Diminishing Returns with other Silences."

"Dark Intent now grants 5% Multistrike instead of 10% Stamina"

"Unleash Flame (which increases the damage of the shaman's next fire spell by 40%), when used on a Flame Shock, will continue to increase the damage of the periodic effect for its entire lifetime, despite being consumed when the Flame Shock is cast."

By the time I figure out which of the buffs, spells, and abilities will be best for my playing style, other players will complain loudly and everything will change again.

The good news? Perhaps I'll get that book written after all next month. It doesn't look like WoW is going to be much of a distraction. Now if only I could break the 'MahJong' game....

What's (this) ?

Have you ever said to yourself, "Self, if (this) would happen, it would fix my whole life."

Of course, (this) could be many things, such as finding the right spouse, relocating to another city/country, acquiring a fortune, or drastically improving your appearance. It could be something smaller, like getting a different job.

If you're lucky enough to achieve your own personal (this), you might find that you set your expectations too high or set your sights too low.

In my case, (this) was 'giving up wine.' For me that's always been my secret plan. I told myself, "All I have to do is give up wine and I'll feel better immediately. I'll lose weight, the grocery bill will plummet, I won't get tired so early, and there won't be those middle-of-night restroom trips."

Silly me. I mistook 'wineless' for 'Fountain of Youth.' I've been wineless for a week now. I get tired just as soon, and I eat more. I still have to make middle-of-night trips. They're the only trips I can afford to take, because the grocery bill didn't drop at all. Neither has my weight.

We'll see how this plays out, but I suspect my secret plan wasn't very realistic. At my age, feeling better isn't ever guaranteed. Bladder capacity does not change. Weight loss is exponentially more complex for seniors.

Come to think of it, the only time I lost weight, felt better, and spent less on food was when I moved to Miami for a new job. I had a busy work schedule, no kitchen, and a low food budget.

Hmmm... would my life be fixed if my new (this) was to move back to Miami and get a starter job? Ha! No way. What I really need is the 'Fountain of Youth' and it sure isn't in Florida. Ponce de Leon already looked there and gave up. Apparently all he found were retirees, and I can be one of those right here at home!

Mid-term Media Malaise

It's mid-term election time, so I hope nobody calls with an emergency. I've put a pillow over the phone because it keeps ringing. I still hear it but it's not quite as shrill. Nobody leaves messages so I know it's all robo-calls. It's a good bet that most of the incoming calls are related to the election.

I registered to vote as a Democrat. It's not that I'm on-board with their agenda... sometimes yes, sometimes no. It's that... around here, Democrats usually win the elections. At least I get to vote for the lesser of the evils in the primaries.

On average I get 5 emails a day from someone or other in that party. Most emails aren't directly related to candidates or issues on my ballot. They're more about fundraising. If I don't donate, those 'Wascally Wepublicans' will win. Oh noes! They might get us into a war we don't want...

And since we're talking mail, let's not forget snail mail. We're eyeing a new shredder to handle the extra mail we get. I can't believe the volume of campaign brochures and leaflets that we've gotten in the last few weeks.

It's especially amusing to get blitzed with leaflets from a candidate endorsed by the Sierra Club. If the Sierra Club knew how many trees were killed to pester people with all these ads, they might not have been so sure about that endorsemant!

There are people ringing our doorbell too. If anything I said could influence them, I might consider answering the door. Alas, that's not how it works. Their minds are made up, they are out to influence me.

The only thing they want from me is a vote, or to find out how I intend to vote. If it's not for their candidate or cause, their fundraisers will hit me up for more money so they can use it to pester me more. Oh, joy.

It's hard to research issues and candidates with all these interruptions, but it has to be done. Leaflets and flyers are about as informative as bumper stickers. Totally useless. (Though I'll put the really toxic ones near our latest ant infestation...  can't hurt to try).

So, politicians, please stop calling, mailing, and visiting. My time is too valuable to be wasted by you. Trust me, you'll feel the same about me after the election.

Bundled Relationships

It's amazing how popular one can be when one doesn't 'bundle.' Our phone, internet, and TV service providers (three separate companies) know we could be giving them more money if only we'd use all of their services, aka 'bundle'... something they go to great lengths to remind us. Every. Single. Day.

It was charming at first, with everybody thinking of ways to entice us to carry their 'bundle,' but lately it's like a relationship that's gone bad. If these companies were suitors we'd know how to deal with them.

With the phone company, we've made it clear the last 6,554 times they've called that we prefer a different provider for our internet and TV. Yet they still call. They send mail and email almost daily. They even send people to the door.

How is that not stalking? Since we have a business relationship with them already, they apparently can pester us all they want. If an ex-boyfriend did that, the judge would issue a restraining order in a heartbeat. If it was a boss, we could potentially sue him or her... and their little company too!

For our Internet Service Provider, counseling is needed. They know our address, it's where they send the bills. Yet every week we get offers in the mail addressed to 'Resident' offering a better deal than we got. This philandering company gives total strangers a better deal than us, and makes no effort to hide it. This behavior needs to change.

For our TV provider, I'd just send them to self-esteem camp. They have great service and excellent programming. At camp they could learn to be satisfied with being the best in their area, and not try to be all things to all customers.

Being older and wiser, we have suffered through enough service changes to know how painful they are. You can't just dump a service provider. They will find ways to stall, drag things out, and make you jump through hoops. ("Ha! We didn't say 'Simon says' so you have to pay us for another month.")

Getting new service established hurts too. You have to schedule somebody to come to the house. ("Someone will be there in February of 2015. If you're not home when they come, we'll have to reschedule you in April.")

The most frightening thing is that all the media companies are trying to merge. If they succeed we'll have to carry their bundle, and if they treat us badly we'll have nobody else to turn to. At this rate we may have to elope with the mail carrier!

The Day Just Flu By

A flu-bug bit me yesterday. It was not fun. Today I feel drained and sore but it's much better than yesterday.

All the classic symptoms were there. There was the headache and sore throat; fever alternating with chills; every muscle hurt. And looking out the window on a sunny day... the eye pain was intense. Of course there was nausea; I shall omit details of the 'exit strategy'. We've all been there too often.

I probably brought this on myself by not checking the expiration date on the unopened soda crackers (last March). My bad. For me, that's all I can eat at such times. Soaking the (slightly stale) crackers in chicken broth helped.

In younger days this would have been a 24-hour thing. I'll take it slower this time. It's not like I have to be anywhere. I'll stay in my comfy chair at the computer and scan the headlines. The headlines are, alas, about the ebola virus.

Here's a bit that caught my eye. It's from The Guardian. Click here for the link.

"Typically, the first signs are a fever involving a headache, joint and muscle pain, sore throat and severe muscle weakness. Many of those symptoms are similar to flu, so Ebola is not immediately obvious..."

I haven't even looked at a map of Africa all month. I've barely left the house. I'm surprised the flu could even find me, but (unlike ebola) the flu has many ways of getting to a person.

One worries that the health care industry will go from 'not enough screening' for ebola to 'too much.' Multiple thousands of us will get the flu this winter. Those who need emergency care will have to jump through extra hoops to prove it is the flu, not ebola. When you're down with the flu, 'jumping through hoops' is not always an option!

It's going to be even more complicated for our dedicated health-care workers. We need a perfect design for protective gear that's easy to wear, easy to change. Wouldn't it be fun to try to think of it? I think I'll watch some old Jetson's cartoons for inspiration. (Why not? It's not like I'll be doing much else today.)

Geriatric Grocery Guru

Being older and wiser, I've acquired wisdom in the area of grocery shopping. Here are some of the gems I've picked up through the years:

• No matter where you shop, there will be at least one item you'd like to buy that the store doesn't carry. There will be another that's out of stock. Plan to visit a back-up store once a month to load up on those items.
• If you go to the store hungry you'll come out with all kinds of things you want to try. You won't try them. For me, it was once a Yorkshire pudding mix; yummy-sounding, but insanely complicated to make. It held a place of honor in our pantry for a full year after it expired.
• If you go to the store after a big meal you'll come out with nothing but toothpicks, breath mints, and after-dinner liqueur. Good luck assembling  next week's meals. Perhaps there's a recipe for Yorkshire pudding mix and breath mints on the Internet (it wouldn't surprise me) but it's probably complicated.
• Buy something table-ready. We've all been there. You shop for all the groceries, load them into the car, go home, unload the car, and put everything away. The trip took time, so you're behind on your daily routine. You're tired. It's time to eat. Can you really prep, assemble, and cook after all that? (I didn't think so.)
• Observe expiration dates. Manufacturers name the earliest possible expiration. You'll feel obliged to throw stuff away and buy more. The dates are also prophetic. If your chicken soup and NyQuil expire in October of 2014, you'll enjoy perfect health until approximately December of 2014. Then you'll get the flu or a nasty cold.
• Don't forget your reading glasses. It's not just expiration dates, it's ingredients. As you age, you learn what your system can and can't tolerate. It's amazing what 'extras' they sneak into a simple item.Without those readers, how will you know?

The best advice of all can't be followed in a grocery shopping trip. It's when you go to a restaurant. Order the complicated, hard-to-cook stuff. If you crave something simple, order it, then order the complicated stuff 'to go.' (I'll have the Yorkshire pudding served in a freezer bag, please...")

Sweet Kitty?

So much sugar has stealthed its way into the typical First World diet. If somebody else is doing the cooking or manufacturing of your food, you'd better believe 'there's sugar in them thar meals.'

It was in the cream cheese I had with my smoked salmon, and an ingredient in the bagel. (Here I was feeling smug because I said 'no' to the banana bread.) I shouldn't read labels so early in the morning, but since I'm trying to cut back on cereal (even non-sweetened cereal contains sugar) I didn't have a cereal box to read.

If I have a BLT for lunch there will be sugar in the bacon, the bread, the mayo, the tomato... basically everything but the lettuce. If I want chips with it...? Yep. More sugar. I was thinking of a pork steak for dinner. I'd slow-cook it in broth and add my favorite barbeque sauce (sugar alert!) for flavor. Most of that sauce goes down the drain, but not all.

Back in the days when obesity was not a national epidemic, the average adult woman had 6 teaspoons of sugar in her daily diet. Trying to dial back to that number is a challenge. At least 6 teaspoons are included in everything else, so extra 'sweets' would have to go.

But I do have help. Our cat, 'Kittygirl,' has come to the rescue. Hubby grabbed a package of our favorite chocolate chip cookies on a recent Costco run. I told myself I would not eat any of those cookies, but feared I'd have a weak moment.

The cookies were on our kitchen island. The package is heavy and we put more heavy things on it so 'Kittygirl' (our little island-hopper) wouldn't mistake it for a cat toy. I underestimated the little rascal. The following morning, the cookie package was on the floor. It had popped open upon impact.

There must have been an exciting game of cookie-hockey. One cookie was in the 'goal' under the kitchen table. The rest were scattered near the package, mixed in with the other floor debris.. As I have previously blogged, I'm not a housekeeper. The cookies had to go.

So, my new diet coach, Kittygirl, is setting a good example. Start your cardio workout with some jumping jacks, actively participate in sports, and knock off the sweets.

Drawing a Bad Lot

Well, I said I'd show you results of drawing.This first one took 45 minutes. It was to accompany the opening line of my book, "There was no woman more beautiful than the queen...." I want my 45 minutes back.

Readers are to imagine someone beautiful, wearing a crown and royal robes. All this looks like is a ladies' rest room door.

The next experiment was a sketch on paper, scanned into the computer. You'd think I could load this into the computer, clean it up, and fill it in with color, right? Wrong. There are fifty shades of white in that scan, and that solid black line is fifty shades of black.

I did try to hand-color the areas, but the hand-eye coordination on a computer really is different. It's also something I don't have the aptitude to do well, as you can see for yourself..

Since the idea is to start right in on my writing project and achieve the holy grail of 'closure' for the first time in my life, I will abandon the idea of 'visuals' and try my best to just finish the book.

After all, one had to draw the line somewhere, right?

Tired and Drawn

Drawing sure got hard since computer software got so smart. I've been trying for 3 days to draw simple stick-figures to illustrate a story. Here are my problems with that:

1. Stick-figures are easy to draw on paper. So they should also be easier to draw on-line, right? Ha! Using a mouse and a basic paint program requires entirely different eye-hand coordination than drawing on a piece of paper.
    
2. I don't want to draw stick-figures at all. I just thought that might be an easy way to start. It isn't. Stick-figures are the worst possible way to illustrate the story I want to write, and there's no clear path to transition those figures into the lush, vibrant characters I want to portray.

It's like adopting a puppy when you want a child. They both start out young, helpless, cute, and hungry; but at some point you realize that the dog can never make the transition to kidness.
   
3. Drawing on paper doesn't work. I'd eventually have to scan the drawing into the computer. Scanners are way too good at their job, picking up dozens of colors from a totally blank sheet of paper. Try getting all that noise out before you even start cleaning up the actual drawing. Better yet, don't try. It's a losing battle.

4. Writing takes most of the day. A few pages is a very good day's work. Agonizing over the right words, finally crafting them just right, and ... wait, wut?  I have to draw stuff too? But it's bed time and that's all I've got...

I'll try to post examples tomorrow, to show you what I'm up against. I'd post them tonight but they're not drawn, and I'm too tired.

Tough Toenails

One of the many indignities of getting older is toenails. They just keep getting weirder and weirder. I thought it was just me, but enough others have complained that I know I'm not alone.

Back when I was nimble enough to deal with them, they behaved like normal toenails,
growing and needing to be clipped. The only question was whether to polish them or ignore them. I mostly went with ignore.

But now? Now that I'm not so nimble, the dratted things are getting their revenge for all those years of neglect.

The big toe toenails are curving into the skin. It's like they 've decided to grow through the toes to the soles of my feet. It they make it, maybe I'll give up shoes. Toenails are tougher than most shoe soles these days. They'll never wear out, they'll just grow back stronger. It's a thought...

A few of the middle toes still look almost normal, so naturally those were the toes I stubbed the other night. They slammed into the door hard enough that they bled. (That sleepy middle-of-the-night jaunt to the restroom is another indignity of aging.) Now the 'normal' toenails are purplish-black. I'm tempted to buy black nail polish and act Goth.

The nails on the little piggy toes are thicker than they are long. The other toes don't want to be outdone. I've got one growing at a crazy sideways angle, thick as a tree trunk. I have the biggest clippers available, and soon those won't get the job done. What next? A nail-file-sized chain saw? A mini-sanding belt from the hardware store?

I'm wondering if podiatrists have invented a liquid steroid specifically for toenails. I can just see them sneaking into malls every night with their water cannons, blasting away at all the sensible shoes through those little pull-down grates. "As soon as an old lady tries that pair on, it's 'Toenails Gone Wild.' Cha-ching!"

Looks like my barefoot days are over. No more open-toed shoes for me! Every time I open the closet door I imagine my sandals and flip-flops make rude snickering noises. In contrast, when I open the sock drawer I think they whimper and scurry to the back of the drawer. Toenails on steroids are a sock's worst nightmare.

Gluten Gluttony

South Park's 'Gluten' episode was days ago, but I'm still chuckling. Those bad boys
really know how to make a topic outrageous. Neither of my readers watches South Park these days so I'll try to recap:

"The town of South Park disagreed about the merits of a gluten-free diet. To prove gluten was ok, an FDA guy ingested pure gluten and died on the spot, outrageously. Gluten was instantly banned everywhere. Mayhem ensued."

It sure took me back. In my employed days, 2 co-workers were Gluttites (not to be confused with Luddites). We traveled together frequently. Every meal included a sermon about the evils of gluten and the need for gluten-free options.

A trip to a restaurant always meant a lecture to the wait-staff. Right sentiment, wrong person. Never assume the waiter has influence, or even contact, with the person who decides what ingredients go into the food. (One of my 'college jobs' was as a waitress. The co-workers...? Nope. I tried to tell them...)

I was sympathetic, and on-board. Heck yes, if ingredients make some people sick, restaurants darn well ought to mention it. I was less sympathetic when I was called out as an infidel for having a bowl of oatmeal. It was delicious, and I needed the fiber more than I needed sanctimonious co-workers.

In South Park, a sensible conclusion was reached, the same one I reached after "Oatmeal-gate". We should turn the food pyramid upside down. Grains should not be the mainstay. Our diets are too carb-intensive. We need less of them, but not zero

I had strayed from the path, but this episode called me back. Not only should we be eating less grain, but we should be much pickier about its quality. This page from WebMD makes it clear.

South Park also supplied the missing puzzle pieces. My old co-workers were part of the 'all fat is bad for you' ilk. Since then we know that there are fats, and there are fats. It's the same with grains. Or is it the other way around?

Drawing Conclusions

People don't read and write as much as they used to. This isn't meant as a criticism of people, it's more an observation of media. Since I want to be a writer when I grow up, It's something I need to observe.

Back when a book was the 'only game in town,' some people wrote enormous ones... Dickens, Melville, Tolstoy... they wrote books that could be used as bookends to hold up other books.

Editorials 100 years ago filled an entire page of the newspaper. 50 years ago they were called 'columns' because they only took a few columns of a newspaper page. Today's 'blogs' are shorter than columns. I notice Google won't give me a '+1' unless my blog fits on one 'page.'

Today's media is small and fast. Look at Twitter... 'tweet' it in 180 characters or keep your beak shut. Campaign speeches used to last an hour or more. Now it's all sound bytes. People often watch the day's top news story on their phone's screen, delivered by a 'talking head.'

Personal communication is quicker too. People used to exchange long letters. Now there's texting, which is best kept to 1 or 2 sentences. After all, the message has to fit on a phone display. I see why so many abbreviations are used these days.

Speaking of abbreviations, one is 'tl; dr.' It stands for 'too long; didn't read.' It's rude, it's lazy, it's mean to use that on somebody who has taken the time to craft a message to you. The only thing meaner is to not bother to tell someone you didn't read it.

So what does 'smaller media' mean to me as a writer? Several things:

• The day of the full-blown novel has passed. If I have so much to say, I should break it into a series and re-use the characters. That worked well for Harry Potter, for example.
• If I want to write news or editorials, I shouldn't look to newspapers for a paycheck. I should prepare material to be delivered by a talking head, though it won't be mine. 
• There are many non-reading options for everything that once required reading. Somebody still has to write the words, but one might also need to say them aloud, accompanied by appropriate visuals.

Sounds like I need to draw more than conclusions here. I might actually need to draw.

Old Paint, New Windows

Well, I'm surprised. Yesterday I mentioned a missing file, assuming it was a trivial fix. As it happens, it wasn't trivial. There was disk corruption. Hubby restored it for now, though I'm still nervous about running WoW. The troubleshooting process was bad enough that starting today, we're shopping for a new computer.

I wish Old Paint had waited a year before developing symptoms. They're still selling  computers with Windows 8 on them at the stores. Microsoft seems to have an 'every-other-OS' jinx. Check out its last 6 operating systems:

• Windows 95 - good
• Windows ME - bad
• Windows XP - good
• Vista --------- bad
• Windows 7 -- good
• Windows 8 -- bad

Windows 10 has been announced and previewed. It looks like they got it right, so the pattern continues. I'm just sad that Windows 10 won't hit the shelves until 2015 is well underway.

I've whined about Windows 8 before. It's for mobile customers, designed to be used on phones and tablets. Both my phone and my desktop start out displaying > a dozen brightly-colored tiles. Each tile is big enough to touch. Touch the 'Music' tile and you can listen to music. Touch the 'Store' tile and you can shop for more apps.

Trouble is, I don't want those tiles on my desktop. (Frankly, I don't want them on my phone either, but that's another blog.) There used to be a 'Start button' that displayed every application installed on my computer. I could pick the one I wanted to run. Then I could pick another one, and another, and run several things at once. With Windows 8.1 I still can, but it takes customization and hoop-jumping before it can happen. It used to just work.

I'm currently writing a blog, reading a preview of Windows 10 (Whoo-HOOO! It has a 'Start button'), checking my email, and playing solitaire. Since you can't do that on a phone-sized screen, the 1-size-fits-all paradigm doesn't make sense to me.

A shopping trip yielded no appropriate machines to buy, so I hope Old Paint can limp along for another year. I'll try to keep him healthy, cool and clean until New Paint is in the stable and Windows 10 is saddle-ready. Then Old Paint can retire to that great Linux afterworld where traffic is lighter and there is no Warcraft.

Outage Outrage

Our primary computers are down.

I don't know how people cope when their computer goes down. We have options here where we can use secondary machines to at least get to the internet. Even so, I'm twitching because I can't play my usual games and work on my comfortable machine.

Oh well, at least I can still write a blog, even though the keyboard on 'ye olde trusty backup machine' is tough to use. The letters have worn off some of the keys, and I am a hunt-and-peck typist.

We got hit with a double-whammy. Hubby's struggling CPU fan finally bit the dust. I'm only getting error messages about a .dll file, not nearly as serious. I could probably fix it myself, but since The Hubster would just as soon do it, I will only look it up. It will be fun to see if I found the right answer.

I'm making the most of my day off. There's laundry going, dinner is pre-cooking to be easily re-heated later, the dishes are caught up, and the blog is half-written. By the time Hubby gets home to install that new fan, he may think he's at the wrong house.

At this rate I may even have time to tackle the 'Leaning Tower of Junkmail.' That's our household tourist attraction. Unless we get bills, personal correspondence, or something we need to file, we just stack the rest of the mail in a pile until I get around to shredding it. Which never happens. The tower is tall enough now that it makes the cats nervous.

On second thought, maybe I'll keep the tower as is. If I can't find a way to make writing pay off, I'll have the option to sell tickets to view it. I could set up other attractions too. 'Guess the Carpet Color, Win a free Cat,' and 'Find Your Way Through the Maze' would be contenders.

Guess it's time to finish writing and get this theme park planned. If I pitch the vacuum cleaners as a 'bumper car' ride, maybe someone will sweep the den.

No New News from the Old Town

I haven't seen my hometown for almost 30 years. No doubt if I visited I'd be disappointed. The places I cherish in my memories would be gone... or worse, they'd still be there but not at all as I remembered. 

For example, in 1958 our church added a new wing. It was an ambitious project, with 8 classrooms, a chapel, a casual meeting room, and 4 offices. We called it 'the new building.' I hear the 'new building' has been replaced because it's 'old.'

Changes aside, it's nice to keep track of the old stomping grounds. For several years I've read the hometown paper online. Sometimes I'll see a familiar name, street, or business mentioned. It's a good way to stay connected to one's roots.

It's a miracle the newspaper still exists. The town is on the state border, across the river from a mega-city with a much bigger and better-funded newspaper. Even back in the day, the small paper struggled for readership against its stronger rival.

Back in the day, the Saturday issue was especially puny. Everybody put their efforts into the Sunday paper, so the Saturday paper, rolled up for 'front-porch' delivery, was a small roll indeed. Dad and I nicknamed it the 'The Saturday Evening Stick.'

The online edition today is also fairly lean. People don't read and write as much as they used to (I'll be blogging about that soon.) Still, it's local news that can't be found anywhere else.

Recently I had an unpleasant shock. The hometown newspaper 'went subscription' on me. I can no longer browse through the paper unless I pay. Quite a few of the big newspapers have tried this method. It isn't working very well for most of them because:

1. People expect online information to be free. They already pay for their Internet, why should they also pay for every site they happen to visit?
2. There's a lot of 'hackery' going on out there. People realize that every time they enter an account number to make an online purchase, it's a new risk. Shoestring businesses can't afford the kind of security that Amazon can.
3. Subscribing to anything is an invitation to be spammed. Businesses who collect subscriptions make additional money selling their subscription list. I agree with the actor in the Monty Python sketch. "I don't like spam!" 

I wouldn't mind paying a subscription fee. I'm no cheapskate. I understand the financial difficulties the newspaper must have. Classically, papers made money through advertising, but why would hometown merchants pay to advertise to me? I'm half a continent away.

There just has to be a better way. I need to investigate options while there's still a paper to subscribe to, because no news is not good news.

Pet Peeves and Vice Versa

Today I have a peeved pet and a pet peeve.

The pet is "Fluffy," our oldest cat. She has a serious 'ear gunk' problem. The vet advised us to clean out her ears weekly with a rubbing-alcohol-soaked Q-tip. I don't blame the vet for giving such ridiculous advice. He's never lived with Fluffy so he doesn't know how hard she'll fight to avoid that Q-tip.

My pet peeve is another issue entirely. I hate when anyone says 'they say' without giving the slightest hint who 'they' might be. But I've already blogged that. My new 'they' peeve is when a whole group is implicated.

Examples:

1. Women?  Yeah, they wear those high heels to make their butts stick out.
2. Muslims? Yeah, they want to kill us all.
3. Men?      Yeah, they love the big boobs.

Many men enjoy ogling big boobs, but not all of them. A have a gay friend who works out every day so he won't have those dreaded 'man boobs.' Some men would rather ogle a derrière. and others simply prefer a sleek, trim look.

Many, many Muslims live here peacefully, and many more would love a chance to live anywhere that was peaceful and safe. Just as Exodus 20:13 in the Bible says "Thou shalt not kill," Koran 6:151 says, “Do not kill a soul that God has made."

I don't know any woman who wants her butt to stick out. Many of us feel our butts are too big, and would happily wear clown shoes if they made our butts NOT stick out. I used to wear platform shoes or heels to make me look taller, therefore slimmer. Now that I'm older and wiser, I wear comfy shoes.

OK, I've finished my rant about my pet peeve and I feel much better. Now to apologize to Fluffy, who is glaring at me and making plans to throw up on the good rug.

Cats? Yeah, they hate having their ears cleaned.

Chute - 2, Ladder - 0

I have depression, medically diagnosed and currently untreated.

It's quite a handicap. It takes hours to 'psych myself up' to finish a task. If it's significant, like cooking a holiday meal, or catching up with multiple loads of dishes, I have to give myself numerous 'pep talks' to start and finish the job.

If I'm interrupted by something else, I have to start at zero and work my way back up. Remember the old board game called 'chutes and ladders?' It's like that, only no ladders. You struggle upward, step by step, and hope to hell you don't land on a chute.

I've tried medications. They cost a lot, they didn't work, and their side effects made my life worse. There are 'new' medications that 'might' work, with even 'worse' side effects, but 'Big Pharma' has gotten its last 'cha-ching' from this 'guinea pig'.

If the cure might kill me faster than the disease, I'd just as soon live with the depression. It isn't fatal unless I kill myself. (I wouldn't unless I could save the world doing so, like the old pilot in Independence Day. Since I can't fly... unlikely.)

There are lifestyle adjustments that can help. One can get lots of light, eat the right stuff, exercise, and set lower expectations. I can manage 3 tasks a day without overload. Normal people can do more, and good for them. I have to pick and choose.

Which finally brings me to the point. Yesterday was a 5-task day. (Holy chute, Batman!) There was a neighborhood block party I thought I should attend. I hate parties, really hate them, but one needs to know one's neighbors. It was a 'pot luck,' so I made cookies. Between the cookies and the party, it was 2 tasks too many.

Last night I could barely hobble to bed, let alone finish a blog ("task 6"). Today everything hurts and I'm behind on all the little stuff I should have done yesterday. (Yep... if you ignore do-as-you-go stuff, it piles up and morphs into another task.)

So far today I haven't landed on a chute so I might get caught up and get my 3 tasks done. Yaaaay! Another few steps forward on the game board.

MahWrong

I've been cheating on 'World of Warcraft' with a Mahjong game I recently purchased, and  it's getting complicated! I tell myself Mahjong is just to fill in that 'idle time' when my Warcraft toon is flying from Point A to Point B, but I'm not fooling anybody.

It wasn't so bad when my toon reached the destination and stood there waiting for me to move it. The game notes that you are AFK (away from keyboard). Lots of players do that. If the phone or doorbell rings, or the cat barfs, of course you have to step away.

If you're away longer than that, your toon gets logged out. No big deal. You just have to click on them again and you're back in the game. That is, unless you're away for even longer. Then you have to log into the whole game again, password and all.

Then comes the time when your toon is in the thick of battle, and runs out of 'bad guys' to kill. Ordinarily one just waits. The 'bad guys' respawn in less than a minute, so you can have another shot at them. But that minute is just enough to click on a few more Mahjong tiles...

Those dratted Mahjong tiles keep matching, and the clock is ticking. I might break my old record! WoW can wait. Or can it? Mahjong ended with the 2 last tiles stacked on top of each other... a loss. Drat!

Back to World of Warcraft. I have to log in again, retype the password, and figure out what I was doing. My toon is dead, killed by the respawned 'bad guys.' The repairs to the damaged armor cost lots of in-game gold. I'll have to fight more battles to earn that gold back.

It's only a matter of time until I'm asking my in-game buddies to cover for me. They'll do it at first. We all help each other out. But eventually they'll notice that they're doing all the work, and I'm just pretending that I'm still on the team.

Meanwhile, there's my blog. It's impossible to find time for that while I juggle two games that don't know about each other. This daily deadline is unrealistic. It's not like anybody reads the blog anyway.

Looks like it's time to have a talk with Mahjong. She won't take it well. I already hinted to her that Warcraft and I were breaking up. It might get ugly.

What's Entertainment?

I'm getting tired of the words that blare from the TV in the other room. The sports channels can't stop talking about the NFL players who abuse people or drugs in their personal lives.

At first I was amused. It's funny to watch NFL big-wigs tap dance around violence issues, especially since the league has denied head-injury issues from Day 1. They're good at sweeping stuff under the carpet, so it was fun to hear that they couldn't this time.

They're sinking deeper into the quicksand, blathering on about role models and personal conduct. They need to address the real issue, and the sooner the better. It's money. They want to maximize viewership so they can attract lucrative sponsorship. Why not just say so?

They need butts in stadium seats and on TV-room couches. Why not ask which direction to go to keep the viewers viewing? I wonder what football fans would choose.

The high road might be the answer. There's nothing wrong with higher safety standards, good sportsmanship, and honest athleticism. If viewers also want players' personal conduct to be above reproach, add that to the drafting process. It's still going to be over-the-top, action-packed, and star-studded.

Fans might also choose to watch the best players in spite of their many flaws. If that is how the wallets vote, maybe it's time to step down from the pulpit and leave the policing to the police. Maybe fans don't care what the players do off the field.

Just because I don't actively watch sports doesn't mean that I'm off the hook for those sorts of decisions. How do you enjoy anything any person does if you hate their personal conduct? Not easy.

What if Churchill couldn't have been prime minister because of his lifestyle? Am I allowed to enjoy Woody Allen movies? Can I like GW Bush's paintings if I disliked his presidency? May I adore watching 'Thriller' every Halloween? Should I boycott books by Poe and Hemingway? Songs by Whitney Houston?

I think I'd just as soon enjoy entertainment for its own sake, and not worry about how the entertainers live their lives. So if I actively watched football, I know what I'd choose. Ironically, I prefer to watch tennis because it's so well-behaved and civilized. Go figure.

Air Mask

I should visit our aging relatives in faraway cities. I should become more active in our neighborhood watch group. I should get out and volunteer, make friends, and meet people in the community.

But first I need to 'put on my own air mask'. You've all traveled on airlines and heard those pre-flight instructions, right? If the masks drop, put on your own first. Then assist others. It's common sense. You're no help to others if you're not OK.

This advice applies to everything, not just to air-mask emergencies. I used to do volunteer work. Nothing was worse than fellow volunteers who couldn't show up. Good reason? Lame reason? No difference. You counted on them being there. They weren't.

We often don't take care of ourselves. It seems selfish to spend time, money, and attention on yourself. However, if the expenditure makes you ready to deal with family emergencies, instead of not showing up, maybe you should get out the wallet? Spend the time?

Here's an example. We need a cat/house sitter on call. We can't have one unless things improve here. We have doors that don't lock unless closed exactly right. The faucet dribbles unless you shut it off the right way. There are stacks of stuff that block hallways and doorways. It's all gotta be fixed if we hire a sitter.

We also have a cat who knows all the hiding places to avoid her twice-daily insulin shot (the one that keeps her alive). We need to set things up so that she is accessible to the cat-sitter no matter what. These things take time and effort that we can't accomplish without help.

Yep, it's time to review what's selfish vs. what's needed to be ready to cope. We need to fix what's broken. We need to be ready to grab the air mask when it drops.

Not Scot-Free

Scotland has been in the news lately. There was an election yesterday, and voters had a chance to vote "yes" to independence from Great Britain... after 307 years of being 'second banana' to them.

As an American, this whole situation surprised me in more ways than one:

1. We understand wanting to be independent from Great Britain. Why was there even debate?
2. 307 YEARS? It took us, um, a bit less than that.
3. Hey-wait-a-minute. They got to cast a ballot? The Yanks had to freeze their feet off in a revolutionary war, and Scotland only had to make a mark on a piece of paper?

I put my amazement aside and skimmed through a few articles. The tone of the rhetoric sounded exactly like a long-married couple contemplating divorce!

Scot - "I'm so tired of everything being you, you, you! When was the last time I got my say in government?"

Brit - "You didn't make it clear how upset you were. I thought you were just whining to be whining. Like your damn bagpipes."

Scot - "Asking for decentralized power and fewer regional inequities Is NOT whining, you pompous arse."

Brit - "If you divorce me, that's it for you. You can't use my money anymore."

Scot - "And when I leave I'm taking custody of the oil. No more bailouts for your poker buddies."

Brit - "I'd take the banks and all of our friends. No one will help you. Look, just vote no. I promise you'll get more representation. Pleeeeze give it another go."

Scot - "Weeeelll, ok, but only because my grandparents still like you. And I'm keeping the divorce lawyer on speed-dial."

(That evening at the poker game)

Brit - "So I had to promise her greater powers and autonomy."

Poker buddies - "Fool! Next thing you know she'll want to be dealt into the game."

I'm a bit disappointed that Scotland didn't pull it off. I was looking forward to their new currency. Would it be plaid? And whose face would be on it? Oh sure, David Tennant would have to be on the 10, but which denomination would feature Karen Gillan?

GroceryQuest: A Mixed Bag

Yesterday I took steps to convert my kitchen to a non-cooking zone. I made my way to the grocery store, determined to find non-processed, labor-free food to fuel a healthier new lifestyle.

There were mixed results. There are foods nobody has messed with. Shelled almonds and pecans seemed less bad for me than popcorn with mysterious 'butter flavor' chemicals. Frozen vegetables are already chopped and nuke-ready. I added those to the cart.

Organic grass-fed burger meat was $8.99 for a 1-pound package. I guess the drought has made grass scarce, so the price of Bossy's diet is being passed on to consumers. I kept walking.

There were other affordable meats that would fit in the crock pot without fuss, so  I got those. Slow cooking is still cooking, and it creates a dirty dish, but you can ignore it for hours without consequences. and the meals-to-dirty-dish ratio (3:1) is pretty good.

The deli had pre-cooked ribs and the butcher had chicken cordon blah (it's kinda bland, but there's nothing weird in it). The produce section had chopped onions, mushrooms, and broccoli. So far, so good.

We were in a hurry, so I grabbed a few things based on their easy cooking instructions. There were meals-in-a-bag in the frozen vegetable section. One throws the whole bag in the microwave and that's it. No piercing, flipping, or stirring. Cool.

I also picked up a popular egg substitute, thinking it would be easier and maybe a bit healthier.

Back home, as I was putting things away, I read the ingredients of the 'healthy egg substitute.' Good heavens! It looked like a chemistry experiment from Hell. Alarmed, I turned to the vegetable meals. Sure enough, a big string of 8-syllable chemicals.

Imagine inventing such awesome packaging and then putting garbage in it. Why couldn't the ingredients read: "vegetables, brown rice (not genetically modified), olive oil, chicken broth, salt" ?

So the trip wasn't perfect. I need to keep looking for Perfect Packaging and Portioning Paired with Pristine, Palatable, Healthy Treats. I need to forward that message to food manufacturers... PPPPPHT!

No Ifs, Ands, or (Cat) Butts

We have 4 cats, and we love them dearly. Yet I must admit, it's a very good thing the front side of them is so cute, because the back side can be very difficult to deal with.

We're constantly 'mooned' by the little rascals. Whenever we scratch their backs they go into their 'elevator butt' routine. Not their best look! But that's nothing compared to other issues.

When "Fluffy" has a problem with gas, she comes straight to me to indicate she's not feeling well. I make soothing noises and she settles down for a nap at my feet. Then she passes gas. Yow! The other cats wander by, and I wonder what they're saying to each other. Probably:

Snookums - (sniffing) "Good grief, Fluffy, what did you eat?"
Fluffy ------ "It wasn't me! Honest! It was the human!"
Snookums - "Yeah, blame the human. Nice try."

Then there's "Kittyboy," who is sometimes too impatient to finish his business in the litterbox. He's afraid he'll miss out on some fun play time. He must be playing Star Trek, judging by the occasional Klingons we find.

"Kittygirl" has a gland (or something) that secretes when she is happy and relaxed. She reaches that state when she's snuggling in a lap, purring up a storm. One minute, a purrfest, next minute, skunkfest. Time to change clothes.

Me ----- "Heads-up, Dear. Kittygirl is in 'snuggle' mode'."
Hubby - "Thanks for the warning. I'll put on my hazmat suit."

All of these are nothing compared to "Snookums." She once had an issue with digestion and hygiene, and she could not get her hindquarters clean. Nor could we. Snookums is a biter and a fighter, and we didn't feel like getting our skin torn off.

The vet suggested a 'sanitary trim.' It's basically a buzz cut to remove the befouled fur. It worked, but she looked ridiculous! The most expensive bad haircut ever. If you think getting 'mooned' by a cat is bad, try getting 'mooned' by a cat who's had a sanitary trim.

Considering how many yards of toilet paper the quartet of cats unrolls, you'd think they'd learn to 'wipe.' Well, I guess they have. But (sigh) they use the good rug.

Now We're (not) Cooking

For years I've been telling myself that I might be a better cook if only... if only what? If only Hubby and I ate the same food at the same time? If only I had more practice? If only we had better appliances?

It's time to stop kidding myself. I might be a better cook if only I wanted to. I don't. There are so many wonderful things I haven't done yet, that I really want to do. At my age, I'd better get moving if I want to do a fraction of them.

Cooking isn't on the list. I don't even want a kitchen in the house. All it does is fill up with dirty dishes, whether I cook anything or not.

I love to watch the Food Network, but not to learn how to cook things. I love seeing dishes produced when I don't have to do the producing. I love to see how they are made. I might want to order them someday.

The comedy and the fiction on that network also amuse me. The 'meals in x number of minutes' are a perfect example. The clock hasn't started, yet every ingredient is cleaned, chopped, measured, and put in a separate little dish to be pan-ready. Oh yes, and the pan is ready too...greased and pre-heated.

Who did that? Elves? How long did that take? Will the elves stay to wash all of those dratted little dishes afterwards? I hope they do the pans too, so they're ready for the next 'meal-it-only-takes-x-minutes-to-make.'

Basically, prep work is a 'time suck.' Melons don't scoop themselves, veggies don't chop themselves, steaks don't shed their silverskins, and even pre-washed food needs to be washed. Bah.

So I don't want to cook. Fine. What happens if I tell my skillets to skedaddle, and tell my stove to stuff it? Well, one problem is... what to eat?

I need to get healthier and get this weight off. Yet a frozen meal from a weight-loss company, is processed food. It could be packed with sugar, preservatives, and enough sodium for a party of 12. Not to mention the genetic modification. No.No.

Simple, prepared, ready-to-eat food is out there. It's a matter of redefining "meals." I need to do some 'homework' at the grocery store. I need to do some 'homework' at the computer. But I don't need to do more 'homework' in the kitchen. Not like I could. It's full of dirty dishes.

Goin' Off the Grid

One gets so discouraged. Food prices are soaring; so are utilities and housing and transportation costs, yet we make less money. Our government is spying on all of us. The financial sector looks like a big, fragile bubble. The phone rings constantly, with pleas for support for yet another scam or cause (probably both).

There are days when I'd love to go off the grid. Of course I can't. I'm too old, and too established in the existing system. I haven't the training or knowledge to be self sufficient, and certainly not the discipline. One day without my morning coffee and I'd be back.

I suppose a young, healthy family could survive off-grid if they had a snug cabin, solar panels, a well, and an acre or two. As long as the chickens, goats, and garden keep producing, these modern pioneers could survive.

Too bad their kids would hate them. I have a friend who left her prosperous parents to 'live off the land' with her idealistic husband. They managed for awhile, though sharing a river with snakes and bugs wasn't ideal for laundry and such. She said it became unmanageable when they had kids.

Sounds right. There are limits to how off-grid the kiddies can be kept. Kids must go to town for dentists and immunizations. Kids meet other kids. Other kids' parents have cool stuff like minivans with TV, and cell phones and cash. Cash buys more cool stuff, e.g. clothes and fast food. Picture it:

Mom -- "Kids! It's time to milk the goats."
Kids -- "We hate the goats. They stink. Other kids don't have to milk goats."
Mom -- "We need the milk and cheese. You wouldn't like starving."
Kids -- "They have these cool places called McDonalds nowadays."
Mom -- "Stay away from that place and GO MILK THE DAMN GOATS!"
Dad -- (later that day) "The kids went to town carrying "PLEASE ADOPT ME" signs again."

So... 'gridless' seems to be a challenge for anyone, even an imaginary family. Maybe the best bet is to cut back where possible, and strive for a more sustainable lifestyle.

I'll think about that as I finish my coffee and plan tonight's dinner. (I'm thinking pizza with goat cheese.)

Pendulum

I'm old enough now that I've seen the pendulum swing too far in both directions on ever-so-many issues.

For example, the pendulum is overdue for its return swing in regard to "big business" owning the government. Among superpacs, political campaigns, and lobbyists gone wild, the political scene is rather skewed. And that's just one example.

I'm pleased to see another pendulum on the downswing. NCAA's rules for college athletes are beyond absurd. How did it get so bad that University of Connecticut's Shabazz Napier had to go to bed "starving" many nights because he can't afford food?

It's true. It's a violation to provide any food for a college athlete. If practice runs late (which is often) and a player misses the on-campus food service, nobody can give that player so much as a potato chip. Check it out here:

It's especially ironic because a college's football and basketball teams bring in insanely large amounts for colleges. Coaches for a Division I team are the highest paid person on the campus. ("Need a loan, Dean? I can spare a few hundred grand.")

True, a player or two might make it to the pros. But wait wut? There are dozens of others who don't? Their bodies got beaten up every week? They made multi-millions for the college? Yet they can't even afford a suit for job interviews?

Hmmm. If you get a 'full ride' chemistry scholarship you only have to keep your grades up. They don't take it away if you don't happen to invent something. If you break your leg you don't lose the scholarship. If you take a part-time job for spare change to buy some jeans, good for you.

The way the pendulum is swinging, college players are finally going to get a respectable stipend. Good! They more than deserve it.

But what are we going to do with all these rules? The NCAA spend a lot of time devising restrictions and penalties for these violations.

I have it! Let's get the NCAA to write rules for Congress! ("What's this? A $100,000 contribution with no name attached? You have to sit out this term, Congressperson! And that bill you passed last term is revoked!")

The only problem would be those $1000-a-plate dinners. On-campus food service might get grumpy if the guests are late.

Support Net Neutrality

Today is the day many of us are telling the FCC to reclassify ISPs as common carriers.

What's this about?   On May 15, 2014, the Federal Communications Commission's chairman, Tom Wheeler, proposed rules that would allow ISPs (ISP = Internet Service Providers) to charge extra fees for preferential treatment. ISPs are the people you pay to get access to the internet. Familiar names are AT&T, Comcast, Time Warner Cable and Verizon. (Yep... the 'poster children' for bad customer service.)

The ISPs could charge content providers extra fees. If they pay, their content will show up on viewers' screens. If they don't pay, the content might or might not show up. It will definitely show up more slowly than content from those who paid the bribe. (Big-name content providers are Google, Netflix, Youtube, and Hulu.)

What is Net Neutrality?   Just a name to go by. It's way shorter than, "The cause championed by people who think ISPs should not block, discriminate against, or charge-extra-for-quicker-service-for any applications or content on the internet." Just as your phone company cannot decide who you could call and what you say on that call, your ISP should not be concerned with what content you view or post online.

If you're thinking that some content should be blocked, please remember that money, not ethics, will be the deciding factor. If "Rich Ralph's Raunchy Porn Site" pays for fast service, they get a spot in the fast lane. If "Poor Church Mouse's Food Bank" doesn't pay, donors and hungry folks will have to wait for the site to appear on their monitor. 

Shouldn't the courts stop this?  On the contrary, the court’s January 2014 ruling eliminated the only existing Net Neutrality protections on the books. ISPs already have the ability to block websites and applications. They can slow down its competitors or block political opinions it disagrees with.

What's the worst that could happen?  Internet blackouts. Smaller websites won't display. Tweets, emails and texts mysteriously delayed or dropped. Videos load slowly, if at all. Websites will work fine one minute, and time out another. Your ISP will say it’s not their fault. You’ll have no idea who to blame. Switching ISPs won't help, they'll all do this.

Exclusive deals could become the norm, with AT&T exclusively bringing you Netflix or Time Warner Cable as the sole source for YouTube. Expect to pay much more if you want good access to everything you view today.

Can we stop this nonsense?  All this abuse can happen because the FCC reclassified ISP giants as 'information services.' The FCC can re-rule and designate them as 'common carriers.' If this happens, the ISP giants will have to follow the rules everybody else follows. You may  CLICK HERE  to tell the FCC to do just that.

Reversed Call on Head Injury

The sports world is a-buzz with the Ray Rice suspension. If you live in a no-sports zone, Ray is a promising young running back. He got in a scuffle with his fiancee in a hotel elevator. He side-armed her. Her head hit the wall so hard she was knocked unconscious.

His fiancee married him anyhow. Ray was suspended for 2 games. All was settled until today. The media got access to the security tape of the incident, and keep showing it. People were more shocked seeing it than hearing about it. Rice was suspended indefinitely.

Hubby was watching sports last night, so when I turned on the TV this morning the sports channel was playing the tape. I idly wondered, as I changed the channel, why a woman would marry a man after that incident.

Then I felt ashamed for being judgemental. I have no idea of what preceded and followed the incident. Was alcohol involved? If so, how much? Was violence typical in the relationship, or not? I had no idea. I've never met either of them. She chose to marry him, so she must have her reasons. Maybe it really wasn't typical behavior.

Maybe it was the money thing. Using words from Jane Austin's Elizabeth Bennett, "... in a prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her." How often do you have a chance at money like that? Opportunities for a 7-figure income are few and far between. If she's been with him all this time, why would she abandon ship when it's finally pay day?

Besides money, there is love. This couple has a 3-year-old, so it's not like they don't have a commitment. If they were both willing, they could turn things around. They would have the means and motivation to get the best counseling, life-coaching, and therapy possible.

They'd also have the whole NFL audience keeping an eye on them, which would be annoying, but also would be a great deterrent for any future missteps.

This isn't the NFL's finest hour. They reversed their previous decision. They pretended that they hadn't seen how violent the incident was before, but it's more likely that they're 'dancing a little sidestep' because of public opinion.

So because of the NFL's new found outrage over how this woman was treated, her life will be ruined instead of fixed. I will never understand football.

The Kickoff of Football Season

It's official football season. When you live with a fan, there are a few life adjustments you learn to make as the season starts. Follow this advice for the win:

1. Root for the teams your partner likes. Even if you don't watch, the game will be in your face as you move from room to room doing house stuff. You may as well enjoy the victory too, or commiserate in the loss. Household harmony is a good thing.
   
   You might have a team you like, but your partner hates. You might have to negotiate a truce or make 'win-win' bets on the outcome if your favorite teams play each other.


2. Don't commit football faux paus. You know the obvious ones. Don't walk between the TV watcher and the TV. Don't start serious conversations when the game is on. How would you like it if they did that during your favorite show? (Even if your show is weekly and football is constantly?)
   
   Be proactive. Grab a schedule and use it. Plan errands/outings during non-game times. Stock up on game-friendly food before game day; the self-serve kind, so you don't have to do anything.


3. Take advantage of game time to do whatever you like without 'pulling aggro.' If their fan-butt is glued to their TV-watchin' chair, it's amazing how much you can get done. In these days of telecommuting and/or both partners employed, a few hours to yourself can be very useful.
   
   Yearning for a long soak? Learning to play an instrument that you haven't mastered? Want to paint or draw without somebody looking over your shoulder? Wanna go buy shoes? Do it. They won't notice.


4. Go out to the local sports bars. A decent sports bar has something on the menu for pretty much everybody. TV screens are viewable from anywhere. Your partner can hear the experts analyze all the games. You can enjoy a meal without cooking and doing dishes. Sometimes I take a book.
   
   Just don't go on a game day! It's a zoo. They are too packed to give good service. You have to keep ordering things, or they'll want your table for someone else. Then you have to drive home during the 4th quarter and could easily miss the end of the game (especially if some pesky policeman arrests you for DUI).

So follow the game plan and enjoy the season. Maybe you'll get a trip to Disneyland when it's over.

My Leaky Bucket List

(If any youngsters accidentally stumble upon this blog, a 'bucket list' is a list of things you plan to do before you 'kick the bucket.' I'm not sure if the term is still used.)

It dawns on me that I'm never going to travel to the places on my 'bucket list.' As the years add up, some things that used to sound awesome... don't now. For example:

• Back in the day I yearned to live on a sailboat and continually explore new places.
• Then there was the dream of backpacking through Europe, staying at youth hostels, and going everyplace a Eurail pass could take me. There was some myth going around that one could spend a day or two picking grapes to make enough money to journey on to the next place. Probably untrue.
• Another wish was for a suntan/sunscreen concession at a Polynesian resort on a white-sand beach. From there I could live happily ever after in my little grass shack, saving tourists' skins and impressing the world with my killer tan. (Appropriate adjective, eh?)

Such dreams are for the young and strong, who still look good in swimwear and don't mind lack of laundry facilities, or picking fleas out of their hair, or all the other stuff that goes with 'traveling light' and living hand-to-mouth.

These days I'll have to sing, "Let it Go" to a few other travel dreams. There are too many obstacles ranging from personal all the way to financial and political:

• The pyramids will have to do without me. The situation in Egypt is no joke, and when people say, "Don't go there," it sounds like really good advice.
• I have 4 needy cats, no spare money, and a hubby who does not travel well. Clearly I won't get to live in Paris for a year. I won't be taking my sketchbook and my notebook to the Louvre for creative inspiration. No breaking for lunch at streetside crepe stands.
• A photo safari in Africa seems inadvisable because of unrest and ebola. The air in China sounds unsafe for someone with asthma and 'secondhand-smoke' lung issues, so getting to the Great Wall might not be so great. Visiting the Great Barrier Reef would only generate frustration because polluters are killing it.

As someone older and wiser, I see that travel needs to give way on my bucket list to more possible list items. Then it dawns on me. I never made a bucket list! I've had things in the back of my mind that I'd like to do, but it's never been formalized.

I feel so much better. Without some dratted list to fret about, I can concentrate on what's possible.  Publishing a book? Learning Spanish? Learning to play an instrument? There are endless possibilities. My bucket runneth over.