It's All Gravy, Baby!

Perhaps the best news in months was given me, courtesy of this website, sent me by a friend: I'm living on borrowed time!

It's often questioned how differently we'd conduct our lives if we knew when we were going to die. I know, in my case, I'd do a much better job of spending money, not so much on acquisitions, but in travel. If I knew I had a year to live, say, I'd be on a boat or plane pronto, and would do my best to see as much of the world as I could before I died.

The one thing, and I try to do this, anyway, is I want to make sure every one knows how important they are to me. I may or may not have spent all my kisses, but I do hope those who've touched me know it. It would be sad to die while holding a grudge or being angry at someone, especially if the slight I think they've done to me is one I've done, too. I try to live by the simple car analogy: instead of becoming angered when I'm cut off, I recall when I've done it to others. We all live with the same rules.

So, if you're reading this...thanks. I can only hope the time you've spent has been worth it.

The good news about my missed appointment with the reaper isn't that I've outlived my usefulness (as the cynics may claim), but that I have a great deal more freedom now (the real kind, not Bush's). I wish I had more faith in the site, though.

It's tempting, now, to liquidate everything and take off. Not prudent, but it seems I could go at any time, and I've already begun looking for reapers out of the corners of my eyes.

It's All Gravy, Baby!

Perhaps the best news in months was given me, courtesy of this website, sent me by a friend: I'm living on borrowed time!

It's often questioned how differently we'd conduct our lives if we knew when we were going to die. I know, in my case, I'd do a much better job of spending money, not so much on acquisitions, but in travel. If I knew I had a year to live, say, I'd be on a boat or plane pronto, and would do my best to see as much of the world as I could before I died.

The one thing, and I try to do this, anyway, is I want to make sure every one knows how important they are to me. I may or may not have spent all my kisses, but I do hope those who've touched me know it. It would be sad to die while holding a grudge or being angry at someone, especially if the slight I think they've done to me is one I've done, too. I try to live by the simple car analogy: instead of becoming angered when I'm cut off, I recall when I've done it to others. We all live with the same rules.

So, if you're reading this...thanks. I can only hope the time you've spent has been worth it.

The good news about my missed appointment with the reaper isn't that I've outlived my usefulness (as the cynics may claim), but that I have a great deal more freedom now (the real kind, not Bush's). I wish I had more faith in the site, though.

It's tempting, now, to liquidate everything and take off. Not prudent, but it seems I could go at any time, and I've already begun looking for reapers out of the corners of my eyes.

My New Hero

I regret questioning him yesterday.

Saturday I went looking for medical care. What I wanted, and what none of the tons of e-mails that offer me online pharmacies offered, was penicillin. I remembered a nearby "Urgent Care" facility and rode over on my bike, hoping to sweet talk some medico into giving me a prescription.

I'd driven by the place thousands of times, and even met one of its staff once in a nearby 7-11 (she commented favorably on my ice cream selection), but had never been inside. I'd been to another of them to have our blood tested before getting married, but all of my medical needs had been performed at one HMO or associated doctor all my adult life.

The Urgent Care facility had big, bright signs promising seven day, twenty-four hour assistance, but those were trumped by a handwritten sign in the window saying they were history and suggesting I contact my employer. I rode back home and did a search for Urgent Care in my neighborhood and found a place a few miles away. I called and got an appointment an hour later.

This "urgent care" place wasn't a clinic at all. In fact, I had the devil of a time finding it at all, even thought I had the address. What I didn't have was the "suite" number, and it was in a tiny strip mall next to a dog grooming place. Nothing painted on the window to help me either, and it was the only spot in the mall without one. Just a glass front into a waiting area that could barely hold the three chairs.

Behind an open door sat a thin Asian around forty or so. He wore a blue smock, polyester pants and shirt, with worn shoes. He was alone, there wasn't even a receptionist, and his entire office was the size of a large room in my home. He was on the phone, speaking with a patient (I guess), but hung up when I peered in.

He motioned me into his office, behind the waiting room, and I sat at his desk and filled out a piece of paper. He used a modern thermometer to take my temperature (97.5?) and had one of the classic blood pressure things laying on his desk. There were six or seven books on a shelf, one of which was the PDR and on his desk a slim volume about dental things. I guessed he picked that up after my call and did some brushing up. He looked in my mouth, poked my gum with a stick, and apologized profusely.

He complimented me on my printing and we spoke for maybe half an hour of this and that. He was the only doctor I've seen who didn't pop in, pretend to know me, and pop out. We chatted about the economy, about my bike, and it was the most satisfying doctor's visit I've ever had. He was in no hurry, and, most importantly, came across as a regular guy, like he worked in a hardware store.

After giving me my scrip (and another for the codeine), he walked me out and let me know he'd be there if I ever needed anything like a flu shot. This is like the coolest doctor, ever!

I have no idea how well his business is doing, but I don't think he's making tons of money, he's just being a doctor. His place is near Loyola University and as I rode home I wondered if he did a lot of business with the students. They probably have their own medical facility, but it's a Catholic University so maybe he's a handy place for students to get birth control prescriptions.

I'd be comfortable going to him if I severed a limb or just about anything else. His card says "M.D." with none of that limiting specialization I've seen on everyone else's card, and he strikes me as just a little guy doing doctor stuff.

Dr. Teck Tan is my new hero.

He missed a bit on when the swelling would go down and my mouth would feel better and I wondered if his prescribed pills would work, but my misgivings were wrong. This morning I feel not bad, not bad at all, considering!

This is much better than self-medicating with Martel cognac.

My New Hero

I regret questioning him yesterday.

Saturday I went looking for medical care. What I wanted, and what none of the tons of e-mails that offer me online pharmacies offered, was penicillin. I remembered a nearby "Urgent Care" facility and rode over on my bike, hoping to sweet talk some medico into giving me a prescription.

I'd driven by the place thousands of times, and even met one of its staff once in a nearby 7-11 (she commented favorably on my ice cream selection), but had never been inside. I'd been to another of them to have our blood tested before getting married, but all of my medical needs had been performed at one HMO or associated doctor all my adult life.

The Urgent Care facility had big, bright signs promising seven day, twenty-four hour assistance, but those were trumped by a handwritten sign in the window saying they were history and suggesting I contact my employer. I rode back home and did a search for Urgent Care in my neighborhood and found a place a few miles away. I called and got an appointment an hour later.

This "urgent care" place wasn't a clinic at all. In fact, I had the devil of a time finding it at all, even thought I had the address. What I didn't have was the "suite" number, and it was in a tiny strip mall next to a dog grooming place. Nothing painted on the window to help me either, and it was the only spot in the mall without one. Just a glass front into a waiting area that could barely hold the three chairs.

Behind an open door sat a thin Asian around forty or so. He wore a blue smock, polyester pants and shirt, with worn shoes. He was alone, there wasn't even a receptionist, and his entire office was the size of a large room in my home. He was on the phone, speaking with a patient (I guess), but hung up when I peered in.

He motioned me into his office, behind the waiting room, and I sat at his desk and filled out a piece of paper. He used a modern thermometer to take my temperature (97.5?) and had one of the classic blood pressure things laying on his desk. There were six or seven books on a shelf, one of which was the PDR and on his desk a slim volume about dental things. I guessed he picked that up after my call and did some brushing up. He looked in my mouth, poked my gum with a stick, and apologized profusely.

He complimented me on my printing and we spoke for maybe half an hour of this and that. He was the only doctor I've seen who didn't pop in, pretend to know me, and pop out. We chatted about the economy, about my bike, and it was the most satisfying doctor's visit I've ever had. He was in no hurry, and, most importantly, came across as a regular guy, like he worked in a hardware store.

After giving me my scrip (and another for the codeine), he walked me out and let me know he'd be there if I ever needed anything like a flu shot. This is like the coolest doctor, ever!

I have no idea how well his business is doing, but I don't think he's making tons of money, he's just being a doctor. His place is near Loyola University and as I rode home I wondered if he did a lot of business with the students. They probably have their own medical facility, but it's a Catholic University so maybe he's a handy place for students to get birth control prescriptions.

I'd be comfortable going to him if I severed a limb or just about anything else. His card says "M.D." with none of that limiting specialization I've seen on everyone else's card, and he strikes me as just a little guy doing doctor stuff.

Dr. Teck Tan is my new hero.

He missed a bit on when the swelling would go down and my mouth would feel better and I wondered if his prescribed pills would work, but my misgivings were wrong. This morning I feel not bad, not bad at all, considering!

This is much better than self-medicating with Martel cognac.

Medical Assistance

Yesterday, after posting about my tooth, I received some excellent advice: "Go to the doctor!" I did, and that's a story in itself.

Now waiting for the *cillin to do its stuff and reduce the inflammation and swelling. I still have no patience, but was able to get some sleep thanks, no doubt, to codeine (which works if you double the dose).

By this afternoon, the doctor said, I should be feeling better. I hope so. I don't like this constant reminder.

Medical Assistance

Yesterday, after posting about my tooth, I received some excellent advice: "Go to the doctor!" I did, and that's a story in itself.

Now waiting for the *cillin to do its stuff and reduce the inflammation and swelling. I still have no patience, but was able to get some sleep thanks, no doubt, to codeine (which works if you double the dose).

By this afternoon, the doctor said, I should be feeling better. I hope so. I don't like this constant reminder.

Dental Distress

Among my many other fine properties, you may add two more: I have a toothache and lots of dread. I'm projecting a long weekend.

I'm not a big fan of toothaches, at least not the throbbing kind that interrupt and prevent sleep. Whenever I get one I laugh derisively at the "Intelligent Design" folks; Having teeth is not a smart choice. Considering how tiny and vulnerable they are, they can still overwhelm my consciousness and become the focus of all my thoughts.

For the past twelve hours or so I tried to sleep. I'd manage an hour or hour and a half, then wake up and it would take close to that to return to sleep. My problem is with one of my lower teeth, one halfway back, and there's a lump under my jaw that hurts when I push it. I do that, just to see how much pain it can generate.

Normally I'd handle it this way: writing someone a check. The thing is, it's the start of a three day weekend (the beginning of Summer, 2005!) and my dentist is closed for the holiday. As are the university dental clinics. They'll be closed, out barbecuing no doubt, all day today, tomorrow, and Monday. They may even go surfing or looking at wildflowers, though it's a bit late in the season for that.

I've been in this position before. I'm hoping the pain gets excruciating, then the abscess or whatever it is breaks or pops or reaches its maximum level. It feels wonderful when that happens, but the relief is only temporary. Better, and about all I can think of now, is holding in my hand a yellow plastic vial of Penicillin. Nothing beats the relief that follows the reduction of the inflamation.

I've heard about the dangers of a toothache, how the poisin can enter my bloodstream and kill me, and I have little doubt that can happen. Still, that doesn't worry me, if only because I've never heard of that happening to anyone. I don't expect that to be common in the United States, not any more, but I don't see it listed as a very common manner of death anywhere on the planet. I'd expect a lot of it, especially in countries that don't have teeth whitening clinics.

I may be in for a weekend of torturing my stomach. I hope it's up to the task of digesting unmasticated food, even though about all I think it will get is mashed potatoes and scrambled eggs.

Oh, that and ice cream and sherbet.

Dental Distress

Among my many other fine properties, you may add two more: I have a toothache and lots of dread. I'm projecting a long weekend.

I'm not a big fan of toothaches, at least not the throbbing kind that interrupt and prevent sleep. Whenever I get one I laugh derisively at the "Intelligent Design" folks; Having teeth is not a smart choice. Considering how tiny and vulnerable they are, they can still overwhelm my consciousness and become the focus of all my thoughts.

For the past twelve hours or so I tried to sleep. I'd manage an hour or hour and a half, then wake up and it would take close to that to return to sleep. My problem is with one of my lower teeth, one halfway back, and there's a lump under my jaw that hurts when I push it. I do that, just to see how much pain it can generate.

Normally I'd handle it this way: writing someone a check. The thing is, it's the start of a three day weekend (the beginning of Summer, 2005!) and my dentist is closed for the holiday. As are the university dental clinics. They'll be closed, out barbecuing no doubt, all day today, tomorrow, and Monday. They may even go surfing or looking at wildflowers, though it's a bit late in the season for that.

I've been in this position before. I'm hoping the pain gets excruciating, then the abscess or whatever it is breaks or pops or reaches its maximum level. It feels wonderful when that happens, but the relief is only temporary. Better, and about all I can think of now, is holding in my hand a yellow plastic vial of Penicillin. Nothing beats the relief that follows the reduction of the inflamation.

I've heard about the dangers of a toothache, how the poisin can enter my bloodstream and kill me, and I have little doubt that can happen. Still, that doesn't worry me, if only because I've never heard of that happening to anyone. I don't expect that to be common in the United States, not any more, but I don't see it listed as a very common manner of death anywhere on the planet. I'd expect a lot of it, especially in countries that don't have teeth whitening clinics.

I may be in for a weekend of torturing my stomach. I hope it's up to the task of digesting unmasticated food, even though about all I think it will get is mashed potatoes and scrambled eggs.

Oh, that and ice cream and sherbet.

Decisions, decisions...

In the midst of ranting about the US Senate, I got sidetracked.

This morning The Angler made a comment, and I want to explain my straw pioneer or caveman. The other day Voyaging brought up the fish issue, and I have more to say about that, too.

I was going to post my replies in the Group for that purpose, where we could continue discussing things, but I can't find it. Perhaps it was removed for lack of activity. I wonder where we could do this, or if there's any interest in it. Threads in the comment areas of blogs may or may not be the best way of addressing this, but much of what I read in other blogs has a lot that's ripe for discussion.

In short, I'm conflicted. "Wild Caught" seafood, and I think there's some law now that insists on the labeling, is probably healthier, but more cruel. Farmed fish is manufactured, with all those attendant problems.

And, yes, I was simplistic in my description of earlier life in the US. I don't have the benefit of knowing much at all of my family's history, but (in my defense), when I think of the old times I usually restrict my thoughts to crossing the Rockies on foot or trudging across the plains. Not so much about the life when they settle, only the settling.

Similarly, when I think of cave men (and I'm sorry, but I love that term), I think of them huddled around a fire, burning meat and soiling their beards. It's a very restricted, unnatural and romantic view, to be sure.

I agree, though, about us doing too much work. It may be idealistic of me, but I'd like to think with all the productivity increases we'd have more leisure time. When the Soviet Union collapsed, one of my first thoughts was that now that the US had "won," maybe we could quit all this racing ahead nonsense. As I saw it, but can't correctly explain, there's little need for it: there's no real winner as long as we're all in the same boat, on the same planet. It's not as if we need to beat the rest of the galaxy.

I was never convinced by the Executive Officers' exhortations to "beat the competition." I'd prefer doing one thing well, very well, over slapping together products because "they" had it. We had our business, they had theirs. I know humans are descended from predators and have all those competitive / predatory instincts, but just as we've learned to use forks instead of fingers, I'd expected more as far as thrashing the competition.

Two remaining problems: revenge and over-population.

Decisions, decisions...

In the midst of ranting about the US Senate, I got sidetracked.

This morning The Angler made a comment, and I want to explain my straw pioneer or caveman. The other day Voyaging brought up the fish issue, and I have more to say about that, too.

I was going to post my replies in the Group for that purpose, where we could continue discussing things, but I can't find it. Perhaps it was removed for lack of activity. I wonder where we could do this, or if there's any interest in it. Threads in the comment areas of blogs may or may not be the best way of addressing this, but much of what I read in other blogs has a lot that's ripe for discussion.

In short, I'm conflicted. "Wild Caught" seafood, and I think there's some law now that insists on the labeling, is probably healthier, but more cruel. Farmed fish is manufactured, with all those attendant problems.

And, yes, I was simplistic in my description of earlier life in the US. I don't have the benefit of knowing much at all of my family's history, but (in my defense), when I think of the old times I usually restrict my thoughts to crossing the Rockies on foot or trudging across the plains. Not so much about the life when they settle, only the settling.

Similarly, when I think of cave men (and I'm sorry, but I love that term), I think of them huddled around a fire, burning meat and soiling their beards. It's a very restricted, unnatural and romantic view, to be sure.

I agree, though, about us doing too much work. It may be idealistic of me, but I'd like to think with all the productivity increases we'd have more leisure time. When the Soviet Union collapsed, one of my first thoughts was that now that the US had "won," maybe we could quit all this racing ahead nonsense. As I saw it, but can't correctly explain, there's little need for it: there's no real winner as long as we're all in the same boat, on the same planet. It's not as if we need to beat the rest of the galaxy.

I was never convinced by the Executive Officers' exhortations to "beat the competition." I'd prefer doing one thing well, very well, over slapping together products because "they" had it. We had our business, they had theirs. I know humans are descended from predators and have all those competitive / predatory instincts, but just as we've learned to use forks instead of fingers, I'd expected more as far as thrashing the competition.

Two remaining problems: revenge and over-population.

Life Regained

In the furtherance of my art I watch TV. Only, now, it's all over.

The last episode of Deadwood just aired, at least for the season, and now I've regained some time that I can devote to writing instead of viewing. You see, I watch these TV shows to see how other writers deal with the intricacies of exposition, and I watch Deadwood to hear the word cocksucker a lot. Our ancestors, it seems, were potty mouths.

I would have survived poorly in the West. Not so much the gunslinging, but the journey alone and all the labor involved with merely surviving would have been a true test of the Russell mettle. I think about this often, how different life was when most of one's life was occupied with food, clothing, and shelter. I know one of Lewis and Clerk is famous for being depressed, but I wonder if it was as prevalent then as it seems to be now. I find it unlikely, but I may be engaging in a romantic past.

It's true, I think, now that many of our maladies, both individually and as a culture, may result from our simply having enough time to "enjoy" them. People on fire don't complain about splinters, and those engaged with guaranteeing enough food to make it through a bitter winter probably rarely worried if their ass looked big in their overalls. They may have struggled with much, but I think they were less pre-occupied in finding themselves than we are.

Time, leisure time, is a luxury. For millenia it was the province of the elite, the wealthy, the ruling class, and now we mostly have it in bucketfuls. This gives us time to produce and appreciate art, but it also gives us a chance to worry too much.

Life Regained

In the furtherance of my art I watch TV. Only, now, it's all over.

The last episode of Deadwood just aired, at least for the season, and now I've regained some time that I can devote to writing instead of viewing. You see, I watch these TV shows to see how other writers deal with the intricacies of exposition, and I watch Deadwood to hear the word cocksucker a lot. Our ancestors, it seems, were potty mouths.

I would have survived poorly in the West. Not so much the gunslinging, but the journey alone and all the labor involved with merely surviving would have been a true test of the Russell mettle. I think about this often, how different life was when most of one's life was occupied with food, clothing, and shelter. I know one of Lewis and Clerk is famous for being depressed, but I wonder if it was as prevalent then as it seems to be now. I find it unlikely, but I may be engaging in a romantic past.

It's true, I think, now that many of our maladies, both individually and as a culture, may result from our simply having enough time to "enjoy" them. People on fire don't complain about splinters, and those engaged with guaranteeing enough food to make it through a bitter winter probably rarely worried if their ass looked big in their overalls. They may have struggled with much, but I think they were less pre-occupied in finding themselves than we are.

Time, leisure time, is a luxury. For millenia it was the province of the elite, the wealthy, the ruling class, and now we mostly have it in bucketfuls. This gives us time to produce and appreciate art, but it also gives us a chance to worry too much.

Me and my Blog

So here I am.

The blog's working all right, but now it's nearing time for me to mess with it until it no longer does. I've found (one of) the page(s) that I want to play with. I'm not unhappy with the shade of blue and the "just above black" that's on the page, but I'd like the logo at the top to be longer and skinnier. I guess if I had a longer description it would be more centered.

Why longer? Because right now I'm thinking the reason for the page, these entries of mine, should be wider, more pronounced. I'm not thrilled with the full justification, either, and I'd like the comments to be a paler blue than the entries that incited them.

The stuff on the right takes up too much room, and I don't even know what it all means. I'd like it to be more subtle, but I also know that goes against the rules of serious blogging. When I look at those sites, hundreds of blogs are listed, but I don't know who'd have time to read and keep up with them all. And, I may want a calendar.

Then there's entry formatting. I see there's a plugin for that, but it doesn't look to offer much beyond what I have now. I don't plan on including formulae or anything that needs sub- or superscripts. I *did* (did?) see where I can e-mail updates in, but I can't see that helping or making things easier. Rich Text would be much easier, and is my favorite, but the only e-mail program I know of that has that as an option is Outlook.

As my Magic 8-Ball says, "outlook not so good." For some reason Bill Gates still sells it, though.

Me and my Blog

So here I am.

The blog's working all right, but now it's nearing time for me to mess with it until it no longer does. I've found (one of) the page(s) that I want to play with. I'm not unhappy with the shade of blue and the "just above black" that's on the page, but I'd like the logo at the top to be longer and skinnier. I guess if I had a longer description it would be more centered.

Why longer? Because right now I'm thinking the reason for the page, these entries of mine, should be wider, more pronounced. I'm not thrilled with the full justification, either, and I'd like the comments to be a paler blue than the entries that incited them.

The stuff on the right takes up too much room, and I don't even know what it all means. I'd like it to be more subtle, but I also know that goes against the rules of serious blogging. When I look at those sites, hundreds of blogs are listed, but I don't know who'd have time to read and keep up with them all. And, I may want a calendar.

Then there's entry formatting. I see there's a plugin for that, but it doesn't look to offer much beyond what I have now. I don't plan on including formulae or anything that needs sub- or superscripts. I *did* (did?) see where I can e-mail updates in, but I can't see that helping or making things easier. Rich Text would be much easier, and is my favorite, but the only e-mail program I know of that has that as an option is Outlook.

As my Magic 8-Ball says, "outlook not so good." For some reason Bill Gates still sells it, though.

A New Beginning...

This is it. My first official post in my new blog.

I know!

I have no idea what this will do to anyone's aggregator (I can't get the new site to work in either of mine), but that's an issue I can postpone. I'm quite practiced at postponing, but I see every opportunity as a chance to perfect my skills.

I'm not sure about the shade of blue, either.

The biggest difference (so far) between this WordPress blog and my Greymatter one is this one is managed with a mouse. Reminds me, somewhat, of a phpMyAdmin thing. Greymatter was all done by typing, akin to formatting a document with LaTeX instead of MS-Word.

But here it is. I've also noticed that my browser is interpreting any use of an apostophre as my wishing to find a string on this page. That's annoying, but it may be because I was using the search feature earlier.

Today was beautiful. I showed the neighborhood my fish-belly white skin while working in the front yard, but it was hot and I didn't care.

Later entries can be expected to employ all of the available options. There's a button for all the typical html codes!

A New Beginning...

This is it. My first official post in my new blog.

I know!

I have no idea what this will do to anyone's aggregator (I can't get the new site to work in either of mine), but that's an issue I can postpone. I'm quite practiced at postponing, but I see every opportunity as a chance to perfect my skills.

I'm not sure about the shade of blue, either.

The biggest difference (so far) between this WordPress blog and my Greymatter one is this one is managed with a mouse. Reminds me, somewhat, of a phpMyAdmin thing. Greymatter was all done by typing, akin to formatting a document with LaTeX instead of MS-Word.

But here it is. I've also noticed that my browser is interpreting any use of an apostophre as my wishing to find a string on this page. That's annoying, but it may be because I was using the search feature earlier.

Today was beautiful. I showed the neighborhood my fish-belly white skin while working in the front yard, but it was hot and I didn't care.

Later entries can be expected to employ all of the available options. There's a button for all the typical html codes!

Possible Error

Now that I think of it, this may be wrong.

The other day while shopping at a local, fairly groovy, market I purchased some frozen fish. Well, not so much fish as fish parts, some "wild caught" Sashimi swordfish steaks. I *love* swordfish, as I do shark, and this was a special treat because they've grown pretty expensive once it was discovered I like them. That happens, and I consider it the price I pay for being out front of popular culture.

But that's not the point.

I didn't notice the "wild caught" thing until recently. Now, my mind, naturally, brings up a picture of fishermen in boots and slickers, catching and struggling with fish with a rod and reel, but I have no doubt the reality is quite a bit different. Nets. Air conditioned cabins. Computer controlled arms. None of the romance of the sea.

Which brings up my dismay.

I had no until I saw the "wild caught" tag that there was any other type of swordfish, which I now see as naive of me. Of course they grow them, breed them! Anything upon which money can be made is probably an industry by now. If people will pay good money for swordfish, someone's gonna catch on and take advantage of that.

Which is my problem. No, not the money part, but if I'm going to eat swordfishes I think one that's been created for that purpose is better than catching one from the "wild." It's like the way I feel about steers or hogs: the ones specially bred for that purpose are *meant* to be slaughtered and eaten. Trapping and killing a wild one is worse, it's taking them away from a life they've known.

So next time I'll be sure to buy fish that isn't "wild captured." That's just rude, especially now that I know there's a difference!

Possible Error

Now that I think of it, this may be wrong.

The other day while shopping at a local, fairly groovy, market I purchased some frozen fish. Well, not so much fish as fish parts, some "wild caught" Sashimi swordfish steaks. I *love* swordfish, as I do shark, and this was a special treat because they've grown pretty expensive once it was discovered I like them. That happens, and I consider it the price I pay for being out front of popular culture.

But that's not the point.

I didn't notice the "wild caught" thing until recently. Now, my mind, naturally, brings up a picture of fishermen in boots and slickers, catching and struggling with fish with a rod and reel, but I have no doubt the reality is quite a bit different. Nets. Air conditioned cabins. Computer controlled arms. None of the romance of the sea.

Which brings up my dismay.

I had no until I saw the "wild caught" tag that there was any other type of swordfish, which I now see as naive of me. Of course they grow them, breed them! Anything upon which money can be made is probably an industry by now. If people will pay good money for swordfish, someone's gonna catch on and take advantage of that.

Which is my problem. No, not the money part, but if I'm going to eat swordfishes I think one that's been created for that purpose is better than catching one from the "wild." It's like the way I feel about steers or hogs: the ones specially bred for that purpose are *meant* to be slaughtered and eaten. Trapping and killing a wild one is worse, it's taking them away from a life they've known.

So next time I'll be sure to buy fish that isn't "wild captured." That's just rude, especially now that I know there's a difference!

'Nother Test

The last entry didn't show up. I made the mistake of changing two things, so I'm not sure which one ruined it.

Never test by changing two things.

'Nother Test

The last entry didn't show up. I made the mistake of changing two things, so I'm not sure which one ruined it.

Never test by changing two things.

Find a Penny...

I'm sure I've mentioned this before...

About fifteen years ago I met and, for awhile, hung around an old man whom I highly respected and admired. He had a full life without me, and I was merely one of a number who enjoyed his company. His name was Hal, not that that matters, and he was a gentle soul, lively and laughing and full of the wisdom one acquires after a long time looking, thinking, and experiencing.

One day we were walking along the street and I spotted a penny laying in the gutter. He saw it too, or saw me looking at it, and told me to pick it up. I think I said something like "it's just a penny" or something like that and he gave me a broad smile, stooped down and retrieved it, and handed it to me.

"It's not worth it," he said. "But you are."

About a week later I called him up and left a message on his machine. Two days later my phone rang, and the lady he rented his room from was calling to let me know he'd died. Mine was the last message on his machine, the last one he'd heard.

In our short time together he gave me everything any person can ever give another: support and caring. He didn't make a big deal of my mountains, just took them all in stride and assured me always that "it will be okay." I don't know how he never tired of me, but when i wanted or needed him he was there, if only for a moment. Just to let me know he cared, just to let me know I mattered.

Now, years later, I still remember him. Whenever I see a penny on the street I pick it up and it's a reminder of him, of what people can be and how they live on even after death.

Find a Penny...

I'm sure I've mentioned this before...

About fifteen years ago I met and, for awhile, hung around an old man whom I highly respected and admired. He had a full life without me, and I was merely one of a number who enjoyed his company. His name was Hal, not that that matters, and he was a gentle soul, lively and laughing and full of the wisdom one acquires after a long time looking, thinking, and experiencing.

One day we were walking along the street and I spotted a penny laying in the gutter. He saw it too, or saw me looking at it, and told me to pick it up. I think I said something like "it's just a penny" or something like that and he gave me a broad smile, stooped down and retrieved it, and handed it to me.

"It's not worth it," he said. "But you are."

About a week later I called him up and left a message on his machine. Two days later my phone rang, and the lady he rented his room from was calling to let me know he'd died. Mine was the last message on his machine, the last one he'd heard.

In our short time together he gave me everything any person can ever give another: support and caring. He didn't make a big deal of my mountains, just took them all in stride and assured me always that "it will be okay." I don't know how he never tired of me, but when i wanted or needed him he was there, if only for a moment. Just to let me know he cared, just to let me know I mattered.

Now, years later, I still remember him. Whenever I see a penny on the street I pick it up and it's a reminder of him, of what people can be and how they live on even after death.

Sun 3

Okay, I'm leaving the auto-generator off. If anyone's aggregator displays the comments, let me know. Since mine don't, I'd prefer manually creating my feed after making an entry to subjecting you to validation messages.

I looked at a number of alternative blogging softwares yesterday, but I still like this one. Call me a hopeless romantic, but I can't yet leave Greymatter, not when its writer is such a good guy.

Once, when I was in court for some traffic violation or other, the judge allowed everyone to plead "guilty with an explanation." I never heard of that before, and it was pretty funny hearing everyone's excuses. They were all about as reasonable as mine.

Anyway, here's the promised joke (with an explanation):

One day Schrodinger was very late returning to his office from lunch. He's speeding down the street, attracts the notice of a cop, and gets pulled over. The cop comes up to the car and asks, "Do you know how fast you were going?"
Schrodinger replys, "No, but I know exactly where I was."

Yes, it should be Heisenberg, but Schrodinger is funnier.

Sun 3

Okay, I'm leaving the auto-generator off. If anyone's aggregator displays the comments, let me know. Since mine don't, I'd prefer manually creating my feed after making an entry to subjecting you to validation messages.

I looked at a number of alternative blogging softwares yesterday, but I still like this one. Call me a hopeless romantic, but I can't yet leave Greymatter, not when its writer is such a good guy.

Once, when I was in court for some traffic violation or other, the judge allowed everyone to plead "guilty with an explanation." I never heard of that before, and it was pretty funny hearing everyone's excuses. They were all about as reasonable as mine.

Anyway, here's the promised joke (with an explanation):

One day Schrodinger was very late returning to his office from lunch. He's speeding down the street, attracts the notice of a cop, and gets pulled over. The cop comes up to the car and asks, "Do you know how fast you were going?"
Schrodinger replys, "No, but I know exactly where I was."

Yes, it should be Heisenberg, but Schrodinger is funnier.

Sunday Number 2

Now, I've turned the auto-generator off.

Last time I did this, even manually running the feed generator failed to generate a recognizable entry (never did see Aggravator Aggrevation, which I thought a clever name).

Also, comments don't appear in *my* aggragators, so maybe it doesn't matter if they auto generate or not.

Sunday Number 2

Now, I've turned the auto-generator off.

Last time I did this, even manually running the feed generator failed to generate a recognizable entry (never did see Aggravator Aggrevation, which I thought a clever name).

Also, comments don't appear in *my* aggragators, so maybe it doesn't matter if they auto generate or not.

Don't Freak

I'm not sure what's going on with this feed generator.

I may be doing many tests today, so that may explain all the entries. It looks as though when I have the feeds generated automatically, everyone gets the validation lines The Angler mentioned. If I generate the feed manually, I'm not sure any comments would be visible through your aggregator, but I'm not sure how important that is. I'm thinking it's not a bug...it's a feature!

I may play around with it, or not.

I'm assuming that everyone's aggregator is better than mine, and that nobody is old fashioned enough to open this blog in a browser any more. Browsers are *so* twentieth century.

One thing about my blogging software: it doesn't, really, allow you to delete entries. If I do much testing there may very well end up being multiple entries, which may appear as if I've been blogging like mad. If I can't delete them manually, I'll at least put a joke or link in the entries.

This entry is set with auto generation (I think)

Don't Freak

I'm not sure what's going on with this feed generator.

I may be doing many tests today, so that may explain all the entries. It looks as though when I have the feeds generated automatically, everyone gets the validation lines The Angler mentioned. If I generate the feed manually, I'm not sure any comments would be visible through your aggregator, but I'm not sure how important that is. I'm thinking it's not a bug...it's a feature!

I may play around with it, or not.

I'm assuming that everyone's aggregator is better than mine, and that nobody is old fashioned enough to open this blog in a browser any more. Browsers are *so* twentieth century.

One thing about my blogging software: it doesn't, really, allow you to delete entries. If I do much testing there may very well end up being multiple entries, which may appear as if I've been blogging like mad. If I can't delete them manually, I'll at least put a joke or link in the entries.

This entry is set with auto generation (I think)

Aggragator Aggravation

Grrr.

This RSS aggregator and feed-generating thing want some work. I'm not sure if it's better to have the process automated, not considering what it does to comment addition. Then again, I wonder if that's the kind of thing that would hamper ad bots from spamming me...

I'd hoped, this morning, to change the look of Crennalated Flotsam. Actually, since my mood isn't all that crucial, I was hoping to change the heading and parse the current Rapture Index. That way we'd all be informed just how close to DOOM we were (it's currently at 150). I also considered some other changes, but got stuck looking for help and nearly ruined the whole damn thing.

Backup is your friend.

Then, tired of that, I began looking for a better aggregator. I believe part of the problem is the RSS-Atom distinctions. Some aggregators will only display the content of some pages (but all of the article headers), others display the content as HTML text files, which just looks poor.

So I considered talking about corporations, something that's been on my mind a lot, but haven't yet reached a conclusion. Which led me, on my bike ride to the market, to consider a lecture on degrees of knowledge, or about picking up pennies, or about writers. In the end, I sat down and watched a show TiVo had captured about imploding hotels in Las Vegas.

Those people who do that for a living are worthy of the term "expert." I've been called that, and some people consider medical doctors to be that good, but the term's overused.

If I *were* an expert, though, with a salary to match, I'd be getting these.

Aggragator Aggravation

Grrr.

This RSS aggregator and feed-generating thing want some work. I'm not sure if it's better to have the process automated, not considering what it does to comment addition. Then again, I wonder if that's the kind of thing that would hamper ad bots from spamming me...

I'd hoped, this morning, to change the look of Crennalated Flotsam. Actually, since my mood isn't all that crucial, I was hoping to change the heading and parse the current Rapture Index. That way we'd all be informed just how close to DOOM we were (it's currently at 150). I also considered some other changes, but got stuck looking for help and nearly ruined the whole damn thing.

Backup is your friend.

Then, tired of that, I began looking for a better aggregator. I believe part of the problem is the RSS-Atom distinctions. Some aggregators will only display the content of some pages (but all of the article headers), others display the content as HTML text files, which just looks poor.

So I considered talking about corporations, something that's been on my mind a lot, but haven't yet reached a conclusion. Which led me, on my bike ride to the market, to consider a lecture on degrees of knowledge, or about picking up pennies, or about writers. In the end, I sat down and watched a show TiVo had captured about imploding hotels in Las Vegas.

Those people who do that for a living are worthy of the term "expert." I've been called that, and some people consider medical doctors to be that good, but the term's overused.

If I *were* an expert, though, with a salary to match, I'd be getting these.

Test Entry

I'll edit this later, when I figure out what to talk about.

For now, I'm just wondering why the feeder has stopped working. Maybe having one here and one on the news is just too much for his ancient, crickety blog program to handle.

As they said on the site where I got the RSS Feed generating program:
"Greymatter is now fairly old technology, it has been surpassed by many other blogging software packages. Before you install Greymatter and gm-rss it is worth considering either installing Wordpress, or converting to Wordpress if you already use Greymatter"

But, someone who knows dislikes Wordpress. I wonder how easy (hah!) it would be to convert this old stuff to Movable Type...

UPDATE: This entry fed (from what I can see), but poor old Animal Troubles must have an error. Like that wouldn't be expected. For the nonce, I think mangling the existing program is a better way of generating the feed then running the manual update. Also, now that it's done, less work for me!

Test Entry

I'll edit this later, when I figure out what to talk about.

For now, I'm just wondering why the feeder has stopped working. Maybe having one here and one on the news is just too much for his ancient, crickety blog program to handle.

As they said on the site where I got the RSS Feed generating program:
"Greymatter is now fairly old technology, it has been surpassed by many other blogging software packages. Before you install Greymatter and gm-rss it is worth considering either installing Wordpress, or converting to Wordpress if you already use Greymatter"

But, someone who knows dislikes Wordpress. I wonder how easy (hah!) it would be to convert this old stuff to Movable Type...

UPDATE: This entry fed (from what I can see), but poor old Animal Troubles must have an error. Like that wouldn't be expected. For the nonce, I think mangling the existing program is a better way of generating the feed then running the manual update. Also, now that it's done, less work for me!

My Animal Troubles

Nobody knows, not even the Internet, but there may be ten million different species of insects on this planet, many of which have bitten me.

The other night, in an effort to stretch my brain and intellect, I watched Nova. The show focused on some part of the world I also don't know and some animals who live there. Among the animals featured, and becoming extinct, was this guy, a fossa or foosa.

Now here's the thing. They're pretty cool / weird looking things, fairly doglike and catlike both, long, and numbering only around two thousand or so. This bums me out, but then I get upset with myself. At the start of the show I didn't even know they existed and here I am, twenty minutes later, worrying about their survival. If they were already extinct I wouldn't feel too bad, but what's disturbing is that I wouldn't feel bad if I'd never heard of them, either.

If I hadn't watched that show and in twenty years they were all gone it would have zero impact on me. Now, just because I know, it seems more relevant. Funny how learning causes pain.

My Animal Troubles

Nobody knows, not even the Internet, but there may be ten million different species of insects on this planet, many of which have bitten me.

The other night, in an effort to stretch my brain and intellect, I watched Nova. The show focused on some part of the world I also don't know and some animals who live there. Among the animals featured, and becoming extinct, was this guy, a fossa or foosa.

Now here's the thing. They're pretty cool / weird looking things, fairly doglike and catlike both, long, and numbering only around two thousand or so. This bums me out, but then I get upset with myself. At the start of the show I didn't even know they existed and here I am, twenty minutes later, worrying about their survival. If they were already extinct I wouldn't feel too bad, but what's disturbing is that I wouldn't feel bad if I'd never heard of them, either.

If I hadn't watched that show and in twenty years they were all gone it would have zero impact on me. Now, just because I know, it seems more relevant. Funny how learning causes pain.

Into The 21st Century (again)

I think I've got it...

The RSS Feed generator for this site is working! Well, it's kind of working. My icon doesn't show up yet, but that's small potatoes.

Now if only I had something to say that anyone would want to read. I need to get out of this self-censoring mood I'm in, and the best way to do that is to banish the thoughts I have that no one wants to hear about.

For this entry, by the way, I'm just rambling, to see if the feed thing works.

Into The 21st Century (again)

I think I've got it...

The RSS Feed generator for this site is working! Well, it's kind of working. My icon doesn't show up yet, but that's small potatoes.

Now if only I had something to say that anyone would want to read. I need to get out of this self-censoring mood I'm in, and the best way to do that is to banish the thoughts I have that no one wants to hear about.

For this entry, by the way, I'm just rambling, to see if the feed thing works.

Elderly Infirmiries

When I talk to old people they usually tell me about their aches and pains or latest medical happenings. This is predictable, but is neithera required subject required nor unique to them. I think it comes from two things: one, they've gotten over the youthful obsession with genitals and worrying about love, and, two, the balance has begun tipping in favor of "flesh is weak" portion of the argument.

In my youth there was never any of that. Not only was I was indestructable and considered mortality to be an academic issue, everything I could conceive of was something I could do. Oh, sure, I'd get winded, tired, or sore, my muscles would and could ache, but my flesh was eager and willing to carry out anything my spirit devised.

This morning my toe hurt again. It's been doing that the past month or so. The bone in there has been feeling as if it had been replaced by a sharp piece of very hot metal. Very distracting. I took the liberty of scrunching up my toe, cracking the joint, and the pain dissipated.

That's when I realized that it had been performing a valuable service: keeping my mind off my toothache.

I suppose I could find a name for what's going on with it, but that would solve nothing. I don't know, it might be an arthritis thing, or bursitis, or some other such well-known name, but finding that out is a waste of time. Learning the label for the ailment does nothing to resolve the pain, but I guess it gives some people a vague sense of undeserved satisfaction. I *think* I know more about something if I have a name for it, but I really don't.

Elderly Infirmiries

When I talk to old people they usually tell me about their aches and pains or latest medical happenings. This is predictable, but is neithera required subject required nor unique to them. I think it comes from two things: one, they've gotten over the youthful obsession with genitals and worrying about love, and, two, the balance has begun tipping in favor of "flesh is weak" portion of the argument.

In my youth there was never any of that. Not only was I was indestructable and considered mortality to be an academic issue, everything I could conceive of was something I could do. Oh, sure, I'd get winded, tired, or sore, my muscles would and could ache, but my flesh was eager and willing to carry out anything my spirit devised.

This morning my toe hurt again. It's been doing that the past month or so. The bone in there has been feeling as if it had been replaced by a sharp piece of very hot metal. Very distracting. I took the liberty of scrunching up my toe, cracking the joint, and the pain dissipated.

That's when I realized that it had been performing a valuable service: keeping my mind off my toothache.

I suppose I could find a name for what's going on with it, but that would solve nothing. I don't know, it might be an arthritis thing, or bursitis, or some other such well-known name, but finding that out is a waste of time. Learning the label for the ailment does nothing to resolve the pain, but I guess it gives some people a vague sense of undeserved satisfaction. I *think* I know more about something if I have a name for it, but I really don't.