Thursday, November 28, 2013
Thursday, November 21, 2013
And the real fuss on the beach today
We had a special visitor - a female snowy owl! I am not a good enough photog, nor do I have good enough equipment, to get a shot like this. This one is from Chris Spiegel, of BlurRevision. He does some really good work around the shore area.
Finally someone with some aesthetic sense
Out on the beach today, I was happy to note that as the dune building is progressing, the machine operators have managed to somehow miss knocking down Beachhenge II ! They've actually gotten past it without destroying it.
Miracles do happen!
Miracles do happen!
Sunday, November 17, 2013
I wrote Pablo's post today
So you should go over to his blog, http://palabrasdechi.blogspot.com/ to see what we did today.
That being said, it is very foggy here at the moment, and the fog wraps everything in quiet, which is nice. It feels like about 9.00 at night, yet it's only 6.00, not even late enough to put out the trash for tomorrow's pickup.
On our second beach walk today, the fog was already coming in:
No horizon, no NY, nothing, nada, zilch. Nice.
The house is almost done, we ought to be finished in time for Thanksgiving; maybe a couple little things need to be touched up, but I can handle those as I find them and they annoy me. I'm continuing to make trash, and I'm working on a second pile of donatable clothes and stuff, to get it out of my house and into someone else's hands before the end of the year. Also trying to organize what needs to be kept, which is made more difficult by the fact that it is all displaced by the work on the house, and none of it is now where it used to be (ie, where I knew where everything was). So organizing, and trying to de-clutter. Neither of which is a favorite pastime of mine.
Pablo is napping. He's been mostly napping all afternoon. Helps with the quiet. If I could stop thinking for a while, I could take a nap, too. I can certainly use one. But I can't settle, so I can't nap. Oh well.
And life goes on....
That being said, it is very foggy here at the moment, and the fog wraps everything in quiet, which is nice. It feels like about 9.00 at night, yet it's only 6.00, not even late enough to put out the trash for tomorrow's pickup.
On our second beach walk today, the fog was already coming in:
No horizon, no NY, nothing, nada, zilch. Nice.
The house is almost done, we ought to be finished in time for Thanksgiving; maybe a couple little things need to be touched up, but I can handle those as I find them and they annoy me. I'm continuing to make trash, and I'm working on a second pile of donatable clothes and stuff, to get it out of my house and into someone else's hands before the end of the year. Also trying to organize what needs to be kept, which is made more difficult by the fact that it is all displaced by the work on the house, and none of it is now where it used to be (ie, where I knew where everything was). So organizing, and trying to de-clutter. Neither of which is a favorite pastime of mine.
Pablo is napping. He's been mostly napping all afternoon. Helps with the quiet. If I could stop thinking for a while, I could take a nap, too. I can certainly use one. But I can't settle, so I can't nap. Oh well.
And life goes on....
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Reporting in
I decided to skip the free feed, even the possibility of watching the beach clubs burn isn't enough to get me to a function that is likely to be chock full of political bullshit. I don't have anyone here I would consider a friend, so this is not a potential social outing (one of my mother's arguments for going). It is more a probable headache, so I stayed home. She went with one of her neighbors and/or friends. Hope they had fun.
I don't understand the American drive to remembrances and memorials. What's done is done, what happened last year happened and will likely never happen again, and I am not interested in re-living it ad nauseum, thank you very much.
Besides, if I ran into that fat-assed governator face to face, I would likely say something obnoxious to him, and get into trouble with the baby nazi impersonators we have for a police dept.
I made something Italian for dinner, ate it with a nice glass of ribera del duero, listened to some really good music on the Bose, and will have a nice sleep before I have to go back to the rat-race of work tomorrow. Or is that a rat's nest? Hard to tell.
I don't understand the American drive to remembrances and memorials. What's done is done, what happened last year happened and will likely never happen again, and I am not interested in re-living it ad nauseum, thank you very much.
Besides, if I ran into that fat-assed governator face to face, I would likely say something obnoxious to him, and get into trouble with the baby nazi impersonators we have for a police dept.
I made something Italian for dinner, ate it with a nice glass of ribera del duero, listened to some really good music on the Bose, and will have a nice sleep before I have to go back to the rat-race of work tomorrow. Or is that a rat's nest? Hard to tell.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Sandy Anniversary Eve
I was going to make myself a second cup of tea, but decided to have a glass of wine instead. Why? Because I got asked one more time what I felt about the "recovery" from what happened here last year, tomorrow. Actually, if you go back in my posts, it started a few days before doomsday, but the official date Sandy made a mess of a lot of lives around here is October 29, which for me is still tomorrow, as I write this.
Here's how I responded to the question:
"If you don't have the money to fix things yourself, you're up the proverbial creek. Insurance is useless, the companies are only out to rip you off for a huge premium, then deny everything when you need them to pay for damage, then raise the premium for next year because you had a claim (which they of course didn't pay, but that doesn't matter). The fat idiot in the statehouse is running for president, he doesn't give a darn for anyone who isn't in the 1% and giving him huge campaign contributions. Everyone else assumes because we live at the shore, we're rich - well, guess what? I live here because it was the only house cheap enough for me to afford. And guess what else? This is the only home I have. Which I can't sell, I can't afford to raise to some standards noone has really determined yet, and I can't afford to walk away from, because of what that would do to the possibility of ever being able to buy another place to live (as in, totally wrecking my credit). Recovery effort? I haven't noticed any on a level other than my own sweat and money. And I'm trapped and f**ked over anyhow. Are we having fun yet?"
Hence the wine. I alternate between feeling remarkably self-sufficient and astoundingly depressed and trapped. The frequency of alternation is some days very slow, and some days moment to moment. Yes, I could get counseling. It is offered for free during times I need to be working to pay for the fixing of the house. If I go to a pay for service counselor, my lousy health insurance doesn't pay anything, because 1. nobody who can actually see me is in the network, and 2. anyone in the network can't see me for at least a few months, and 3. the ones I've called to maybe make an appointment some months into the future find out what plan my insurance is, and tell me, "oh, we're not accepting THAT plan," in spite of it being listed on the website that they DO accept it.
So the insurance system, be it homeowners or health, is totally screwed. I'd like to opt out, please.
I know, that's not an option. I have to pay thru the nose for insurance that does nothing for me at all.
No. I'll be the first to admit, my car insurance came thru when I needed them. And the premium on the new car is not unreasonable. And they gave me a discount when I moved my homeowner's insurance to their company. Which is a TON of bucks cheaper than the old homeowner's policy, which denied I had any damage, after their first assessor decided I actually had a LOT of damage.
Flood insurance was reasonably responsive, too. Unlike what I hear from a lot of the people who used to live around here and no longer do because their houses are still wrecked and they can't get money to fix them. And don't even mention that the house is not your primary residence - then you are required to have it, if you have a mortgage, but it doesn't cover ANYTHING because the house is not your primary residence. How do you figure that???? Who invented that scam????
Mind you, I'm just blowing off steam here, so I can maybe get some sleep tonite.
The flooring for upstairs is maybe I hope being delivered tomorrow, it actually came earlier than expected, so maybe I don't have to pay the handy dudes to sit around waiting for it on Saturday. And maybe they can get it installed and actually finish the bulk of the work in time for Thanksgiving and the following holiday events, which we have a chance of having this year, as compared to last.
Tomorrow evening there is a free feed down at the firehouse, I guess so we can all reminisce about eating free food at the firehouse for close to two months last year. Not exactly a memory I would be anxious to celebrate. If they are having loud rock music, I will skip it. I don't LIKE loud rock music.
They are also planning to have a bonfire on the beach, which I REALLY don't think is such a good idea, with all the things that have been burning down all along the shore. They might wind up burning down those ugly new bigger and bolder beach clubs that weren't going to be allowed to rebuild. Not that I'd particularly miss them, they're just for 1%-ers who don't work for a living, instead tying up traffic so the people who live here can't go anywhere on weekends in the summer. But maybe they in their enhanced sizes might shift a bit of the property tax burden off of our backs. So they might have a bit of redeeming social value, but someone needs to show me that so I can stop hating them so much.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch....I had a pair of cats fighting under my back deck a while ago. Screeching and hissing and thumping under the wooden floor. Probably ferals, we have a ton of those lately. Or maybe they're homeless cats abandoned here when their houses got wrecked and their people couldn't take them to the shelters with them. A lot of the locals are still living in Ft Monmouth and wherever else, they can't come home yet. A year later.
This all really sucks. And people who have been thru disasters, personal or regional, tell me it can take years to get over it. They're not talking about the physical recovery, they're referring to the mental processes. I can believe it. And it will take longer due to the panic-mongering that happens afterwards. Any time it gets cloudy, they predict doom and destruction. So of course, for people who are already traumatized, why not play on their fears and make them totally basket cases?
Meanwhile, we have a fat-assed governor creep who is using us as a stepping stool to being elected president. Folks, he hasn't done a damned thing for any of us, except blow hot air and posture. His wife and his cronies are raking in millions that they have yet to disburse to anyone who needs it (for whom it was supposedly intended). And he has the chutzpah to come here tomorrow so we can congratulate him on how great a job of "leadership" he has done in the past year. I think I'll need a serious barf bag to go to the party tomorrow. Or duct tape, to keep my opinions to myself.
On that note, and having drained my wine glass, to bed I go. It's chilly and cloudy outside, not much humidity, and the hurricane symptoms are dashing themselves on the other side of the puddle this year. I hope the folks over there have a better time of it than we have. I don't envy them a bit.
Here's how I responded to the question:
"If you don't have the money to fix things yourself, you're up the proverbial creek. Insurance is useless, the companies are only out to rip you off for a huge premium, then deny everything when you need them to pay for damage, then raise the premium for next year because you had a claim (which they of course didn't pay, but that doesn't matter). The fat idiot in the statehouse is running for president, he doesn't give a darn for anyone who isn't in the 1% and giving him huge campaign contributions. Everyone else assumes because we live at the shore, we're rich - well, guess what? I live here because it was the only house cheap enough for me to afford. And guess what else? This is the only home I have. Which I can't sell, I can't afford to raise to some standards noone has really determined yet, and I can't afford to walk away from, because of what that would do to the possibility of ever being able to buy another place to live (as in, totally wrecking my credit). Recovery effort? I haven't noticed any on a level other than my own sweat and money. And I'm trapped and f**ked over anyhow. Are we having fun yet?"
Hence the wine. I alternate between feeling remarkably self-sufficient and astoundingly depressed and trapped. The frequency of alternation is some days very slow, and some days moment to moment. Yes, I could get counseling. It is offered for free during times I need to be working to pay for the fixing of the house. If I go to a pay for service counselor, my lousy health insurance doesn't pay anything, because 1. nobody who can actually see me is in the network, and 2. anyone in the network can't see me for at least a few months, and 3. the ones I've called to maybe make an appointment some months into the future find out what plan my insurance is, and tell me, "oh, we're not accepting THAT plan," in spite of it being listed on the website that they DO accept it.
So the insurance system, be it homeowners or health, is totally screwed. I'd like to opt out, please.
I know, that's not an option. I have to pay thru the nose for insurance that does nothing for me at all.
No. I'll be the first to admit, my car insurance came thru when I needed them. And the premium on the new car is not unreasonable. And they gave me a discount when I moved my homeowner's insurance to their company. Which is a TON of bucks cheaper than the old homeowner's policy, which denied I had any damage, after their first assessor decided I actually had a LOT of damage.
Flood insurance was reasonably responsive, too. Unlike what I hear from a lot of the people who used to live around here and no longer do because their houses are still wrecked and they can't get money to fix them. And don't even mention that the house is not your primary residence - then you are required to have it, if you have a mortgage, but it doesn't cover ANYTHING because the house is not your primary residence. How do you figure that???? Who invented that scam????
Mind you, I'm just blowing off steam here, so I can maybe get some sleep tonite.
The flooring for upstairs is maybe I hope being delivered tomorrow, it actually came earlier than expected, so maybe I don't have to pay the handy dudes to sit around waiting for it on Saturday. And maybe they can get it installed and actually finish the bulk of the work in time for Thanksgiving and the following holiday events, which we have a chance of having this year, as compared to last.
Tomorrow evening there is a free feed down at the firehouse, I guess so we can all reminisce about eating free food at the firehouse for close to two months last year. Not exactly a memory I would be anxious to celebrate. If they are having loud rock music, I will skip it. I don't LIKE loud rock music.
They are also planning to have a bonfire on the beach, which I REALLY don't think is such a good idea, with all the things that have been burning down all along the shore. They might wind up burning down those ugly new bigger and bolder beach clubs that weren't going to be allowed to rebuild. Not that I'd particularly miss them, they're just for 1%-ers who don't work for a living, instead tying up traffic so the people who live here can't go anywhere on weekends in the summer. But maybe they in their enhanced sizes might shift a bit of the property tax burden off of our backs. So they might have a bit of redeeming social value, but someone needs to show me that so I can stop hating them so much.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch....I had a pair of cats fighting under my back deck a while ago. Screeching and hissing and thumping under the wooden floor. Probably ferals, we have a ton of those lately. Or maybe they're homeless cats abandoned here when their houses got wrecked and their people couldn't take them to the shelters with them. A lot of the locals are still living in Ft Monmouth and wherever else, they can't come home yet. A year later.
This all really sucks. And people who have been thru disasters, personal or regional, tell me it can take years to get over it. They're not talking about the physical recovery, they're referring to the mental processes. I can believe it. And it will take longer due to the panic-mongering that happens afterwards. Any time it gets cloudy, they predict doom and destruction. So of course, for people who are already traumatized, why not play on their fears and make them totally basket cases?
Meanwhile, we have a fat-assed governor creep who is using us as a stepping stool to being elected president. Folks, he hasn't done a damned thing for any of us, except blow hot air and posture. His wife and his cronies are raking in millions that they have yet to disburse to anyone who needs it (for whom it was supposedly intended). And he has the chutzpah to come here tomorrow so we can congratulate him on how great a job of "leadership" he has done in the past year. I think I'll need a serious barf bag to go to the party tomorrow. Or duct tape, to keep my opinions to myself.
On that note, and having drained my wine glass, to bed I go. It's chilly and cloudy outside, not much humidity, and the hurricane symptoms are dashing themselves on the other side of the puddle this year. I hope the folks over there have a better time of it than we have. I don't envy them a bit.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Mike Richter
I never knew about Mike's career before he became the opera recordings king of the world. Here's what one who knew him better than I ever did had to say:
Michael D. Richter, who died today (Oct 21, 2013, so actually yesterday) in Glenview, Illinois following a brief illness, gained international recognition in two unrelated fields in his 74 year lifetime: computer applications in space technology, and the preservation of opera recordings.
With only a Bachelor’s degree in mathematics from the University of Chicago as academic training, in 1969 he was one of 100 civilian recipients of the Presidential Medal recognizing “those who made Apollo fly”, for his work at M.I.T. Labs in designing micro-computer applications in the Apollo guidance systems, largely done before the first micro-computers had been built. After a brief stop at Commodore Corporation, where he designed proprietary software including the first letter-merging program and the first practical word processor for the Commodore 64 (the first widely marketed home computer), he moved on to the TRW Corporation’s aerospace division in Los Angeles, where his work included theoretical computer applications that later became known as digital photography – which began when he used his own Commodore computer to correct over-exposed photos he had taken as a semi-professional photographer.
After a viral infection of the heart forced him to take permanent disability while still in his 40’s, Mike began what he called his “second life”, immersing himself the world of opera. Having been active on the internet since its inception as a link between the handful of universities and labs working on Apollo, he established “Opera-L”, which soon became the second most active web site for opera enthusiasts – second only to the site sponsored by the Metropolitan Opera. He soon established a second web site as a means of information exchange between the most knowledgeable opera supporters, performers and behind the scenes professionals. Already well on the way to accumulating what would become one of the largest privately-held opera recording collections in the world, in the 1980s, Mike turned his computer skills to the preservation of opera recordings. Mike’s computer enhanced Edison cylinders, otherwise unrecorded live performances made during World War II for servicemen in isolated posts onto CD’s, and rare vintage recordings to clarify the sound to a level better than the original. As rights to these obscure and often illicit recordings could never be obtained, he then distributed a handful of copies at cost to a few serious collectors, with copies available to the public at the Library of Congress, The University of Pittsburg and at music evenings he often hosted at his home in Los Angeles. Although he never claimed the credit, more than one member of the opera community believes that his transcription of a secret wire recording of a class taught in the 1950s at the Met by Maria Callas was the inspiration for the Tony Award winning musical “The Master Class”.
A heart attack in 2009 forced Mike to give up these activities, transfer his opera recordings to a distributer who is still in the process of cataloging and transcribing them for public release, and relocate to Glenview, to be near his brother’s family in Deerfield and Highland Park. Over the last four years, while a resident at the Seasons of Brookdale, he has conducted both opera evenings and a weekly movie night for residents, even though his voice had been reduced in the last year to little more than a whisper. Just before his death, arrangements were made that his last collection of commercially available opera videos and recordings – numbering about 200 titles – will be put in circulation at the Northbrook Public Library.
- Maxim de Winter
Had to record that somehow. I'm amazed, stunned (I thought Mike was immortal - well, he is, in some ways). But he was one of those people one could never associate with the idea of death. He seemed always to be one step (at least) ahead of fate.
Ok. So how to memorialize him? I barely knew him, yet he shared so much with me and others. I suppose I could listen to all of my recordings, in his honor....but that would probably take years. So I'll do it piecemeal, and think of Mike, the encyclopedia of operatic knowledge, every time I listen to any opera. Started with Dutchman this evening, plenty more to go. It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it.
Michael D. Richter, who died today (Oct 21, 2013, so actually yesterday) in Glenview, Illinois following a brief illness, gained international recognition in two unrelated fields in his 74 year lifetime: computer applications in space technology, and the preservation of opera recordings.
With only a Bachelor’s degree in mathematics from the University of Chicago as academic training, in 1969 he was one of 100 civilian recipients of the Presidential Medal recognizing “those who made Apollo fly”, for his work at M.I.T. Labs in designing micro-computer applications in the Apollo guidance systems, largely done before the first micro-computers had been built. After a brief stop at Commodore Corporation, where he designed proprietary software including the first letter-merging program and the first practical word processor for the Commodore 64 (the first widely marketed home computer), he moved on to the TRW Corporation’s aerospace division in Los Angeles, where his work included theoretical computer applications that later became known as digital photography – which began when he used his own Commodore computer to correct over-exposed photos he had taken as a semi-professional photographer.
After a viral infection of the heart forced him to take permanent disability while still in his 40’s, Mike began what he called his “second life”, immersing himself the world of opera. Having been active on the internet since its inception as a link between the handful of universities and labs working on Apollo, he established “Opera-L”, which soon became the second most active web site for opera enthusiasts – second only to the site sponsored by the Metropolitan Opera. He soon established a second web site as a means of information exchange between the most knowledgeable opera supporters, performers and behind the scenes professionals. Already well on the way to accumulating what would become one of the largest privately-held opera recording collections in the world, in the 1980s, Mike turned his computer skills to the preservation of opera recordings. Mike’s computer enhanced Edison cylinders, otherwise unrecorded live performances made during World War II for servicemen in isolated posts onto CD’s, and rare vintage recordings to clarify the sound to a level better than the original. As rights to these obscure and often illicit recordings could never be obtained, he then distributed a handful of copies at cost to a few serious collectors, with copies available to the public at the Library of Congress, The University of Pittsburg and at music evenings he often hosted at his home in Los Angeles. Although he never claimed the credit, more than one member of the opera community believes that his transcription of a secret wire recording of a class taught in the 1950s at the Met by Maria Callas was the inspiration for the Tony Award winning musical “The Master Class”.
A heart attack in 2009 forced Mike to give up these activities, transfer his opera recordings to a distributer who is still in the process of cataloging and transcribing them for public release, and relocate to Glenview, to be near his brother’s family in Deerfield and Highland Park. Over the last four years, while a resident at the Seasons of Brookdale, he has conducted both opera evenings and a weekly movie night for residents, even though his voice had been reduced in the last year to little more than a whisper. Just before his death, arrangements were made that his last collection of commercially available opera videos and recordings – numbering about 200 titles – will be put in circulation at the Northbrook Public Library.
- Maxim de Winter
Had to record that somehow. I'm amazed, stunned (I thought Mike was immortal - well, he is, in some ways). But he was one of those people one could never associate with the idea of death. He seemed always to be one step (at least) ahead of fate.
Ok. So how to memorialize him? I barely knew him, yet he shared so much with me and others. I suppose I could listen to all of my recordings, in his honor....but that would probably take years. So I'll do it piecemeal, and think of Mike, the encyclopedia of operatic knowledge, every time I listen to any opera. Started with Dutchman this evening, plenty more to go. It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
There's something about Norma
I'm back. Been a rough month, between traveling for Carmen (LA) and seeing Norma and just plain work, Oct 15 was the last chance to file individual tax returns in the US for 2012, so of course everybody late had to get done, and phew, what a load of stuff to do all at once.
I wonder sometimes if the people who file late are the same people who buy a seat for a show in the middle of a row, then are the last ones to arrive at the theatre. Wouldn't surprise me a bit.
Carmen was a ton of fun, saw all the different permutations and combinations of cast members, plus two conductors, and all were great. Carmen is one of my all time favorites, and it's hard for me to not help everyone sing....duct tape works pretty well.
Then there's Norma. I've not yet gotten over Bartoli's recording of Norma, which is from another planet, we can't even go there. Norma as Baroque opera. Yeah, and I love it.
It's Norma year around here. The Met has Sondra Radvanovsky singing it. I've been to two performances so far, got one more, couldn't resist. Sondra can out-sing just about anybody who has ever sung the role, and I've heard a lot of really great Normas. What a gorgeous voice, coming from a beautiful woman who is a real person, not some untouchable diva like a real live Turandot. And now that she's grown into her voice fully (that type of voice takes until the owner is 40-something to be all there), WOW. Just WOW. It's like a vocal laser, it zaps you and goes into your bones and rattles everything you've ever heard or liked about Norma and replaces it with Sondra. Some kind of religious experience.
Yes, for the Angela Meade fans out there, Angela is good, too, but I don't think she's old enough yet, the voice is coming but not all here quite yet. Give it time, it ought to come. Meanwhile, I'll take Sondra.
And this is coming from me, a tenor/baritone person. I don't normally rave about soprani.
Then there's the plot, or what passes for a plot. I found myself getting annoyed that these two gorgeous women should (a) fight over this schmuck of a Roman, Pollione, who was crummy at the high notes anyway, and so had no redeeming aural value to make them swoon over him, and (b) be willing to die with or for him.
Bad enough it takes Norma till the last act to figure out she is the one causing her people's bad karma. Casta diva doesn't include having two kids with a leader of the enemy forces. What part of casta did she not understand? Duh. And the kids are probably 5 and 7 or so, so it sure has taken her a while to figure it out, ya' think???
But it could come out better. If you just make a couple of changes right after the Puerto Rican aria/duet (Mira, oh Norma), the two gals, Norma and Adalgesia (aka Analgesic in my sicko reinterpretive opera world) who are getting along like gangbusters at that point, ought to get together and take Pollione to the cleaners, get lifetime alimony/palimony and child support out of the jerk, ship him back to Rome, and live together happily ever after. Call it the post-women's-lib version of Norma. Then to even the score (no pun intended), send good old Dad (Oroveso) and his armies over to Rome to wipe out the rest of the Romans (leaving Pollione alive so he can continue to pay support to the ladies). End the story on a happy chord.
Sigh. If only I could be a director when I grow up.
I also saw Midsummer Night's Dream (the Britten one). Highly recommend you see it if you can. Great singing, cool funky production, fabulous conductor! Yeah James! Glad to see you back in NY!
As for the house....the last parts are under way, I think (unless I find more things that need to be done). Insulation is in under the house, just in time for colder weather to be arriving. One of my handy dudes is upstairs painting the sky cave as I write this - they call it a man cave, but as I don't keep one of those around the house anymore, I prefer sky cave. Maybe an aerie. I'll think about it.
The upstairs bathroom is almost done, we're waiting for Lowe's to actually come up with the medicine cabinet I ordered about 3 - 4 weeks ago which has supposedly been shipped twice now. Would not surprise me if I eventually get two of them, but I'd settle for the one I ordered. At least it's not a bath tub - my handy dude ordered one for his bathroom remodel and two were delivered to his house, about a week apart. What on earth can you do with two bath tubs???? Make a planter in the yard???? Or a very large wine cooler, maybe....
Then the last issue I can think of right now, getting window coverings for upstairs. Weird size windows, so it could be a challenge. We'll see.
Of course, if I think too hard, I can come up with a lot more things that need to be fixed/replaced/otherwise worked on. My handy dudes are threatening to move in, but they want the aerie, and I'm not sure I want loud male tenants up there. Dilemmas 'r us.
And so it goes. Pablo is having an occasional lesson in beach walks sans leash, and he did pretty well this morning, not racing away too far from me. I miss my beach walks with Cid, he could amble along on his own, leaving my hands free to work the cameras....it's time Pablo learns to do the same. He's starting to get the idea - Mom can't walk as fast as he can run (especially in sand), and when Mom calls or whistles (usually the Queen of the Night's aria), that means come back. Need plenty of practice, but we'll get there.
I wonder sometimes if the people who file late are the same people who buy a seat for a show in the middle of a row, then are the last ones to arrive at the theatre. Wouldn't surprise me a bit.
Carmen was a ton of fun, saw all the different permutations and combinations of cast members, plus two conductors, and all were great. Carmen is one of my all time favorites, and it's hard for me to not help everyone sing....duct tape works pretty well.
Then there's Norma. I've not yet gotten over Bartoli's recording of Norma, which is from another planet, we can't even go there. Norma as Baroque opera. Yeah, and I love it.
It's Norma year around here. The Met has Sondra Radvanovsky singing it. I've been to two performances so far, got one more, couldn't resist. Sondra can out-sing just about anybody who has ever sung the role, and I've heard a lot of really great Normas. What a gorgeous voice, coming from a beautiful woman who is a real person, not some untouchable diva like a real live Turandot. And now that she's grown into her voice fully (that type of voice takes until the owner is 40-something to be all there), WOW. Just WOW. It's like a vocal laser, it zaps you and goes into your bones and rattles everything you've ever heard or liked about Norma and replaces it with Sondra. Some kind of religious experience.
Yes, for the Angela Meade fans out there, Angela is good, too, but I don't think she's old enough yet, the voice is coming but not all here quite yet. Give it time, it ought to come. Meanwhile, I'll take Sondra.
And this is coming from me, a tenor/baritone person. I don't normally rave about soprani.
Then there's the plot, or what passes for a plot. I found myself getting annoyed that these two gorgeous women should (a) fight over this schmuck of a Roman, Pollione, who was crummy at the high notes anyway, and so had no redeeming aural value to make them swoon over him, and (b) be willing to die with or for him.
Bad enough it takes Norma till the last act to figure out she is the one causing her people's bad karma. Casta diva doesn't include having two kids with a leader of the enemy forces. What part of casta did she not understand? Duh. And the kids are probably 5 and 7 or so, so it sure has taken her a while to figure it out, ya' think???
But it could come out better. If you just make a couple of changes right after the Puerto Rican aria/duet (Mira, oh Norma), the two gals, Norma and Adalgesia (aka Analgesic in my sicko reinterpretive opera world) who are getting along like gangbusters at that point, ought to get together and take Pollione to the cleaners, get lifetime alimony/palimony and child support out of the jerk, ship him back to Rome, and live together happily ever after. Call it the post-women's-lib version of Norma. Then to even the score (no pun intended), send good old Dad (Oroveso) and his armies over to Rome to wipe out the rest of the Romans (leaving Pollione alive so he can continue to pay support to the ladies). End the story on a happy chord.
Sigh. If only I could be a director when I grow up.
I also saw Midsummer Night's Dream (the Britten one). Highly recommend you see it if you can. Great singing, cool funky production, fabulous conductor! Yeah James! Glad to see you back in NY!
As for the house....the last parts are under way, I think (unless I find more things that need to be done). Insulation is in under the house, just in time for colder weather to be arriving. One of my handy dudes is upstairs painting the sky cave as I write this - they call it a man cave, but as I don't keep one of those around the house anymore, I prefer sky cave. Maybe an aerie. I'll think about it.
The upstairs bathroom is almost done, we're waiting for Lowe's to actually come up with the medicine cabinet I ordered about 3 - 4 weeks ago which has supposedly been shipped twice now. Would not surprise me if I eventually get two of them, but I'd settle for the one I ordered. At least it's not a bath tub - my handy dude ordered one for his bathroom remodel and two were delivered to his house, about a week apart. What on earth can you do with two bath tubs???? Make a planter in the yard???? Or a very large wine cooler, maybe....
Then the last issue I can think of right now, getting window coverings for upstairs. Weird size windows, so it could be a challenge. We'll see.
Of course, if I think too hard, I can come up with a lot more things that need to be fixed/replaced/otherwise worked on. My handy dudes are threatening to move in, but they want the aerie, and I'm not sure I want loud male tenants up there. Dilemmas 'r us.
And so it goes. Pablo is having an occasional lesson in beach walks sans leash, and he did pretty well this morning, not racing away too far from me. I miss my beach walks with Cid, he could amble along on his own, leaving my hands free to work the cameras....it's time Pablo learns to do the same. He's starting to get the idea - Mom can't walk as fast as he can run (especially in sand), and when Mom calls or whistles (usually the Queen of the Night's aria), that means come back. Need plenty of practice, but we'll get there.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
New art
Brought home a painting the other day from a client I must've done
something good for. (Either it's end a sentence in a preposition week,
or I've been spending too much time talking to Pablo.) It's a cool
abstract piece, which is not usually my genre but I really like
it, and the colors tie the house together perfectly. So since this spot
is the center of the whole house, physically and mentally, that's where
it will live.
Now, because this blog thingy seems to have an issue with the direction pictures get posted, here is the first picture of my new artwork. I took the picture vertically, stood it up and saved it horizontally, and this is how the blogger likes it to be oriented:
So I went back and took the picture from about the same spot, only in evening light instead of morning, and horizontally rather than vertically, so you don't have to lay down or lean over to see it right end upwards:
Ok, I was closer to it this time, you can't see the kitchen floor in the second one. But you get the idea, I hope.
You can also see, reflected in the mirror, the color of my bedroom. This is what I mean when I say the painting ties the house together. Color is the story, I need a lot of it to feel like home.
And meanwhile Pablo spent a good part of the day helping the guys with the fence. Here he is, hard at work:
There was only one moment when he decided the fence isn't there anymore, and he could (and did) walk through it. No biggie, he stopped when I told him to stop (small miracle) and I was able to retrieve him before he got in a lot of trouble.
Now, because this blog thingy seems to have an issue with the direction pictures get posted, here is the first picture of my new artwork. I took the picture vertically, stood it up and saved it horizontally, and this is how the blogger likes it to be oriented:
So I went back and took the picture from about the same spot, only in evening light instead of morning, and horizontally rather than vertically, so you don't have to lay down or lean over to see it right end upwards:
Ok, I was closer to it this time, you can't see the kitchen floor in the second one. But you get the idea, I hope.
You can also see, reflected in the mirror, the color of my bedroom. This is what I mean when I say the painting ties the house together. Color is the story, I need a lot of it to feel like home.
And meanwhile Pablo spent a good part of the day helping the guys with the fence. Here he is, hard at work:
There was only one moment when he decided the fence isn't there anymore, and he could (and did) walk through it. No biggie, he stopped when I told him to stop (small miracle) and I was able to retrieve him before he got in a lot of trouble.
Sunday, September 8, 2013
done with the replenishment
The guys took their toys and left. We still have a depressed area just to the north of our stairs where they didn't fill in because of some supposed bird who was nesting in the wall in late August/early September. This is NJ, mind you. Birds don't nest here at this time of year.
Time and tide will fill in the space without human intervention. Meanwhile, it's become a favorite spot to be on the beach and out of the wind, and the kids and dogs enjoy racing up and down the hill. Pablo spent the whole afternoon on the beach with his nieces and one of their friends, with the accompaniment of another dog he has met before. I stayed in and tried to work, with limited success.
So he is pooped out, while I am wide awake, and need to get up at 6.00 for work tomorrow. Oh well.
Nice evening view of the beach, empty now, the freeloaders are mostly gone.
Time and tide will fill in the space without human intervention. Meanwhile, it's become a favorite spot to be on the beach and out of the wind, and the kids and dogs enjoy racing up and down the hill. Pablo spent the whole afternoon on the beach with his nieces and one of their friends, with the accompaniment of another dog he has met before. I stayed in and tried to work, with limited success.
So he is pooped out, while I am wide awake, and need to get up at 6.00 for work tomorrow. Oh well.
Nice evening view of the beach, empty now, the freeloaders are mostly gone.
Friday, August 30, 2013
sand toys, size XXXXX-large
The way it works is, a boat (maybe ship, bigger than a boat?) with dredging arms goes way out into the ocean (probably not WAY out, or it wouldn't be able to reach the sand), digs up a load of sand, stores it in the boat, then comes and pumps it out onto the beach here. The equipment on the beach - earth movers and shovels and such - receive the sand and spread it around. There's a big pipe that runs from a buoy to the shore, the boat attaches to that, and at the shore end of the pipe there's a filter basket contrivance, to catch the bombs and artillery shells that come up with the sand. Those are taken into custody by a bomb disposal crew, who lug them off to Fort Dix to blow them up. There's ordnance in the sand because they are taking it from off the Fort Hancock area, and that was a proving ground of some sort back in WWI & II. Which means the army shot a whole lot of ordnance into the ocean around here, and most of it is still there.
The boat takes about two hours to go out, dredge up material, and come back to disperse it. I was talking to the site supervisor for a while, gleaning all this info (my Mom never taught me not to talk to strangers, probably because she does the same thing). He was here for the last replenishment, in 1995, and also was here for the rebuilding of the sea wall in the early 90s. I'm glad he's back. The beach will be twice as wide when they're done as it is right now. He did say they are not building dunes this time, so I'm not sure how that's going to work. Tho usually dunes kind of grow by themselves, from what I've seen.
Seems like the state is paying for this, obviously with FEMA money. The state project will run up to the north end of Sea Bright, because beyond that is federal territory, and as the supervisor told me, the feds do not move sand.
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| Here's the dredger. |
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| The equipment on the beach. The red structure with the blue umbrella in front of it is a spare filter. |
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| Here you can see the pipe spewing sand, which is quite wet, and the two earth movers shaping the new edge of the beach. They have to be careful not to go too far, so the equipment doesn't sink or get overrun with ocean. |
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| Closer shot of one of the earth movers, with the dredger in the background. |
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| The cage as they were shutting down the pipe so the ship could go get more sand. |
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| Looks like he's coming to get me! |
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Oy, what a weekend
My kids and granddog came up for the weekend, and we worked on all sorts of stuff, a lot of it green leafy vegetation in front of my house. Now there is a rather large pile of disconnected formerly green leafy vegetation in the back of my house, waiting for my handy dudes to pick up and take somewhere for disposal. The handy dudes also were here hard at work, painting the front porch and working on the wall in the front of the property. So it's beginning to look nice outside as well as in.
The dogs, of course, had their usual issues, not really wanting to play, and by Sunday morning getting a little snarly with each other. Mostly they get along ok, but as they get tireder, teeth sometimes are brandished. Just like little kids.
Meanwhile, I somehow did something to hurt my left foot, so now I am hobbling about, the foot hurts, the calf hurts, the knee hurts, and if this keeps up, I suspect the ache will continue moving north. As one of my Mom's neighbors commented, it sucks getting old. Not that I'm doing that.
When I am back to walking more comfortably, I'll go across the street and take some pictures of the progress. Hobbling like I am at the moment, crossing the street can be difficult, I'm likely to get creamed by some idiot bennies in a Mercedes or Porsche.
I'm tired, and aside from the foot issue, my arms are a tad sore, but that's just the result of a lot of use of the electric hedge trimmer. I actually managed to not cut thru the cord, for a change. I've made a lot of sparks in my gardening (or un-gardening) career. I also no longer have a bush that has curly little thingies on it that grab the cord and hold it so it's easier to chop.
Still doing laundry, got off to a very late start on that today. I might be able to stay awake long enough to fold and hang everything that's in the dryer right now....
Pablo just went somewhere with Grandma, so I'm going to go enjoy some of the lemon wine my kids made....ciao~
The dogs, of course, had their usual issues, not really wanting to play, and by Sunday morning getting a little snarly with each other. Mostly they get along ok, but as they get tireder, teeth sometimes are brandished. Just like little kids.
Meanwhile, I somehow did something to hurt my left foot, so now I am hobbling about, the foot hurts, the calf hurts, the knee hurts, and if this keeps up, I suspect the ache will continue moving north. As one of my Mom's neighbors commented, it sucks getting old. Not that I'm doing that.
When I am back to walking more comfortably, I'll go across the street and take some pictures of the progress. Hobbling like I am at the moment, crossing the street can be difficult, I'm likely to get creamed by some idiot bennies in a Mercedes or Porsche.
I'm tired, and aside from the foot issue, my arms are a tad sore, but that's just the result of a lot of use of the electric hedge trimmer. I actually managed to not cut thru the cord, for a change. I've made a lot of sparks in my gardening (or un-gardening) career. I also no longer have a bush that has curly little thingies on it that grab the cord and hold it so it's easier to chop.
Still doing laundry, got off to a very late start on that today. I might be able to stay awake long enough to fold and hang everything that's in the dryer right now....
Pablo just went somewhere with Grandma, so I'm going to go enjoy some of the lemon wine my kids made....ciao~
Sunday, August 18, 2013
I received a suggestion
One of my peeps mentioned that I am spending a lot of time talking about trains and how bad our transit system is. That may actually be true. So let's change the subject, and go back to the question of bridges. Some of my readers might have noticed I have a thing for bridges. It's a long running romance, let's say. Bridges have always fascinated me.
I remember when I was a little kid - we still had the '49 Ford then - going from our summer cottage in Silverton to Seaside Heights, the Route 37 bridge was still made of wood. It was very narrow, just one skinny lane in each direction, and the road surface was wooden planks, kind of like a board walk. I was always nervous that it might break while we were on it, and we would splash into Barnegat Bay - which wouldn't be much of an issue in terms of water, it's not very deep. But the crunch when that heavy Ford hit the bottom could be an issue. We would all be flattened, I think. Not exactly the way I envisioned ending my summer.
At some point, they built a real bridge, concrete and steel, three lanes so you could have two at a time going whichever way the traffic was heavier. It was still a while before the smaller bridge from Pelican Island to Seaside was redone. It had a partial wooden deck for a while after the big bridge was replaced. How much time passed, I can't say, I was a kid, and had no sense of time. Since then, a second bridge was added next to the big one, so last I checked there were 3 lanes in each direction. Back when the bridge was wooden, it was also a drawbridge, so some days traffic would have to sit and wait for boat traffic to pass. The new bridges are higher, so no more drawbridge on the taller one, no more sitting and watching boats go by - or even better, getting out of the car to hang on the rail and watch. And of course, no more bridge operators in their little booths.
These are the latest iteration of the Route 37 bridge between Toms River and Seaside Heights. The shorter one is the older one, of course. It actually is a drawbridge, still, but I haven't been down there in several years, so I had to look that up (and I wouldn't even consider going until summer is well over). Seems to me the original wooden bridge was flat all the way across the bay, with the bascule (aka drawbridge) in the center. I found an article from the Asbury Park Press that says the taller bridge was built in 1970. It's called the J. Stanley Tunney Bridge. Its shorter partner is the Thomas A. Mathis Bridge, and considering a friend of mine who is five years younger than me doesn't remember the bridge ever being wooden, the Mathis must have been built in the early 1960s, maybe. It says in Wikipedia that it was built in 1950, but I can't buy that, as I have been on the old wooden bridge and I was not born yet in 1950. I remember crossing it in the '49 Ford, but not in the '57 Ford, which was its successor.
I haven't been able to find any pictures of the wooden bridge. I'd be interested to see if any exist. This site has some old pictures of Seaside: http://www.discoverseasideheights.com/history/toms-river-bridge Their discussion of the railroads is also fascinating, and be sure to check out the carousel, which is still in operation, after surviving Hurricane Sandy.
Thinking about it, my friend doesn't remember Wild West City, either. It was an early theme park near the intersection of Hooper Avenue and Fisher Boulevard. We fondly referred to it as Mosquito City. I suspect the mosquitoes were one of the main reasons it didn't last too long. There apparently are Wild West Cities elsewhere, but that particular one is long gone.
I remember when I was a little kid - we still had the '49 Ford then - going from our summer cottage in Silverton to Seaside Heights, the Route 37 bridge was still made of wood. It was very narrow, just one skinny lane in each direction, and the road surface was wooden planks, kind of like a board walk. I was always nervous that it might break while we were on it, and we would splash into Barnegat Bay - which wouldn't be much of an issue in terms of water, it's not very deep. But the crunch when that heavy Ford hit the bottom could be an issue. We would all be flattened, I think. Not exactly the way I envisioned ending my summer.
At some point, they built a real bridge, concrete and steel, three lanes so you could have two at a time going whichever way the traffic was heavier. It was still a while before the smaller bridge from Pelican Island to Seaside was redone. It had a partial wooden deck for a while after the big bridge was replaced. How much time passed, I can't say, I was a kid, and had no sense of time. Since then, a second bridge was added next to the big one, so last I checked there were 3 lanes in each direction. Back when the bridge was wooden, it was also a drawbridge, so some days traffic would have to sit and wait for boat traffic to pass. The new bridges are higher, so no more drawbridge on the taller one, no more sitting and watching boats go by - or even better, getting out of the car to hang on the rail and watch. And of course, no more bridge operators in their little booths.
These are the latest iteration of the Route 37 bridge between Toms River and Seaside Heights. The shorter one is the older one, of course. It actually is a drawbridge, still, but I haven't been down there in several years, so I had to look that up (and I wouldn't even consider going until summer is well over). Seems to me the original wooden bridge was flat all the way across the bay, with the bascule (aka drawbridge) in the center. I found an article from the Asbury Park Press that says the taller bridge was built in 1970. It's called the J. Stanley Tunney Bridge. Its shorter partner is the Thomas A. Mathis Bridge, and considering a friend of mine who is five years younger than me doesn't remember the bridge ever being wooden, the Mathis must have been built in the early 1960s, maybe. It says in Wikipedia that it was built in 1950, but I can't buy that, as I have been on the old wooden bridge and I was not born yet in 1950. I remember crossing it in the '49 Ford, but not in the '57 Ford, which was its successor.
I haven't been able to find any pictures of the wooden bridge. I'd be interested to see if any exist. This site has some old pictures of Seaside: http://www.discoverseasideheights.com/history/toms-river-bridge Their discussion of the railroads is also fascinating, and be sure to check out the carousel, which is still in operation, after surviving Hurricane Sandy.
Thinking about it, my friend doesn't remember Wild West City, either. It was an early theme park near the intersection of Hooper Avenue and Fisher Boulevard. We fondly referred to it as Mosquito City. I suspect the mosquitoes were one of the main reasons it didn't last too long. There apparently are Wild West Cities elsewhere, but that particular one is long gone.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
trains, trains and more trains
This morning we got to somewhere around North Elizabeth and slowed to a crawl. Crept into Newark, eventually, and I got an email alert that there was a "medical emergency" somewhere in the system, which was supposedly slowing us down.
What they didn't mention was that the "patient" was actually the electric lines that give juice to the trains. We got past Newark and into no-man's-land, aka the Meadowlands, and stopped, then the lights flickered and went out. As did the a/c.
Eventually someone announced that Amtrak was having low voltage problems on the catenary lines, and the dispatcher was relaying that info to someone who could maybe fix it.
We sat for about a half hour, though the lights and a/c came back on somewhat sooner. Then we had to crawl the rest of the way to NY Penn, since there was a line of stuck trains that all had to get going again, were all behind schedule, and couldn't all go at one time because of there only being one track through the tunnel, as I've mentioned before.
I finally got to the office about 9.53. I usually get here at 9.10. Better late than never? At least nobody went postal on the train, and the quiet car stayed pretty quiet through the wait, which is totally amazing.
I must admit, I was vaguely disappointed to learn the real cause of the delay. I had imagined that the hamster running our train had died (I always thought they had hamsters on those little wheels generating the electricity), and they were sending the conductors out into the swamp to try to catch some rats as replacements.
No, I really haven't lost my mind entirely. I've just been riding NJT much too much.
What they didn't mention was that the "patient" was actually the electric lines that give juice to the trains. We got past Newark and into no-man's-land, aka the Meadowlands, and stopped, then the lights flickered and went out. As did the a/c.
Eventually someone announced that Amtrak was having low voltage problems on the catenary lines, and the dispatcher was relaying that info to someone who could maybe fix it.
We sat for about a half hour, though the lights and a/c came back on somewhat sooner. Then we had to crawl the rest of the way to NY Penn, since there was a line of stuck trains that all had to get going again, were all behind schedule, and couldn't all go at one time because of there only being one track through the tunnel, as I've mentioned before.
I finally got to the office about 9.53. I usually get here at 9.10. Better late than never? At least nobody went postal on the train, and the quiet car stayed pretty quiet through the wait, which is totally amazing.
I must admit, I was vaguely disappointed to learn the real cause of the delay. I had imagined that the hamster running our train had died (I always thought they had hamsters on those little wheels generating the electricity), and they were sending the conductors out into the swamp to try to catch some rats as replacements.
No, I really haven't lost my mind entirely. I've just been riding NJT much too much.
Friday, August 9, 2013
ok, since I'm not getting anything useful done anyhow....
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| Pablo with his ducky who accidentally wound up in the laundry. Nice clean ducky, and he still squeaks! |
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| The collection of balls that have resurfaced in the process of fixing and painting the house. They were all under the furniture or somewhere. Pablo doesn't chase balls much, so I think a lot of these are leftovers from Cid. |
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| This is the new beach access, complete except noone has been back to clean up the debris. Some nice scrap lumber there. |
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| The deck. Notice, no seats. |
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| Going down to the beach. Different than it used to be, it's got a platform that's a step lower than the deck, then the stairs. |
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| Beach looking southeast. No dunes, no plants, part of a jetty sticking out. Also no people, but it's cloudy and has been raining a bit here and there. |
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| Beach looking northeast. A couple of hardy plants are coming back on their own. |
the more I work, the behinder I get
Just looked at the time, it's already afternoon and I feel like I've gotten nothing done. Except going to the post office, the bank, and the grocery store, and buying gas for the car, and opening all the mail, and calling several people....
I guess life expands to fill the time available. I need to start making reservations with myself so I can have actual time to sit down and do real work.
Hot-ish and very very humid here today, the sun is trying to come out, but while I was zooming around doing things this morning, it was raining in isolated spots. Local showers, literally. It's been cooler lately, so it feels crummy being back at hot-ish and the humidity is a killer.
Maybe over the weekend I can get some work done, and put up some pictures, I've been doing random pictures of odd things and haven't had a chance to upload them anywhere. I'm so tired by the time I get home in the evenings, I can't do much more than fall into bed, then I can't fall asleep. Need to get back to something regular and normal. Anything regular and normal. Tired of the new normal, give me back my old normal. PLEASE!!!!
I guess life expands to fill the time available. I need to start making reservations with myself so I can have actual time to sit down and do real work.
Hot-ish and very very humid here today, the sun is trying to come out, but while I was zooming around doing things this morning, it was raining in isolated spots. Local showers, literally. It's been cooler lately, so it feels crummy being back at hot-ish and the humidity is a killer.
Maybe over the weekend I can get some work done, and put up some pictures, I've been doing random pictures of odd things and haven't had a chance to upload them anywhere. I'm so tired by the time I get home in the evenings, I can't do much more than fall into bed, then I can't fall asleep. Need to get back to something regular and normal. Anything regular and normal. Tired of the new normal, give me back my old normal. PLEASE!!!!
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Thursday, August 1, 2013
actual facts
A local paper reported that yesterday there were three suicides by train, each on a different line of NJ Transit. Probably a record for a 24-hour period.
more on trains and transportation
One of my associates on FB commented the other day that the US has the worst rail system in the world. I'd probably tend to agree with that statement, except that locally, at least, we haven't had any major accidents in a while, or maybe ever (as far as I an aware), like trains going off the rails for going way too fast on a curve, or trains running into each other head-on.
That being said, yesterday afternoon's transportation situation was interesting. At about the same time as there was a spill of something or other on the helix coming out of the Lincoln Tunnel on the NJ side, closing the road entirely, NJ Transit had what they euphemistically refer to as a "trespasser incident," plus a "medical emergency," which pretty much bollixed up the rail system for a few hours.
Now, in case you can't tell, a "trespasser incident" usually involves an individual being on the tracks for some reason and getting run over by a train. I wonder if the "medical emergency" might have indicated that they for a change didn't kill the trespasser? Have to look in the local news today and see if there are any details available.
Our trains are awful. They're very old equipment, subject to frequent breakdowns and partial to total failure, but these issues generally simply make the trains exceedingly uncomfortable (they are sufficiently uncomfortable to begin with), or make them stop dead on the tracks and not go anywhere until someone does something to fix or replace the ailing machinery. Often we have electrical issues, or switch issues, or the Portal Bridge won't lock after it's been opened for boat traffic. The second worst is when a train gets stuck in the tunnel, because since there is only one tunnel containing only two tracks, you instantly get an issue with putting trains thru it in both directions at once. And when one train is delayed, it has the obvious cascading effect, which worsens as the blockage persists.
The worst is the dreaded "trespasser incident," when the resulting mess has to be cleaned up, investigated, and the train crew removed for questioning, counseling, or whatever else they do to those people when they screw up. Tho in my opinion, running over a person who chooses to place him or her self in the path of a train is not at all the engineer's fault or error. It's an unavoidable obstacle that causes a huge mess. One evening I was on a train that ran over a human, and we were all stuck on the train for three hours while the official activities took place, until some genius actually considered getting the passengers off, since we had no function to serve aside from becoming progressively more agitated and anxious to leave.
Can we call it dysfunctional? Sure, let's do that.
Even so, in my opinion it still beats driving.
That being said, yesterday afternoon's transportation situation was interesting. At about the same time as there was a spill of something or other on the helix coming out of the Lincoln Tunnel on the NJ side, closing the road entirely, NJ Transit had what they euphemistically refer to as a "trespasser incident," plus a "medical emergency," which pretty much bollixed up the rail system for a few hours.
Now, in case you can't tell, a "trespasser incident" usually involves an individual being on the tracks for some reason and getting run over by a train. I wonder if the "medical emergency" might have indicated that they for a change didn't kill the trespasser? Have to look in the local news today and see if there are any details available.
Our trains are awful. They're very old equipment, subject to frequent breakdowns and partial to total failure, but these issues generally simply make the trains exceedingly uncomfortable (they are sufficiently uncomfortable to begin with), or make them stop dead on the tracks and not go anywhere until someone does something to fix or replace the ailing machinery. Often we have electrical issues, or switch issues, or the Portal Bridge won't lock after it's been opened for boat traffic. The second worst is when a train gets stuck in the tunnel, because since there is only one tunnel containing only two tracks, you instantly get an issue with putting trains thru it in both directions at once. And when one train is delayed, it has the obvious cascading effect, which worsens as the blockage persists.
The worst is the dreaded "trespasser incident," when the resulting mess has to be cleaned up, investigated, and the train crew removed for questioning, counseling, or whatever else they do to those people when they screw up. Tho in my opinion, running over a person who chooses to place him or her self in the path of a train is not at all the engineer's fault or error. It's an unavoidable obstacle that causes a huge mess. One evening I was on a train that ran over a human, and we were all stuck on the train for three hours while the official activities took place, until some genius actually considered getting the passengers off, since we had no function to serve aside from becoming progressively more agitated and anxious to leave.
Can we call it dysfunctional? Sure, let's do that.
Even so, in my opinion it still beats driving.
tunnels and stuff
Wrote this the other nite, it needed edits I wasn't able to do on the tablet, so here it is now:
I was almost asleep when some inconsiderate asshole parked outside and offloaded a passel of screeching children. So now I am wide awake, and the brain is running amok.
Talking about tunnels earlier, I remember when I was a little kid and my older sister was in elementary school, she did a project about the Lincoln Tunnel, which involved building a model of it. She "borrowed" a couple of trucks from me, which I had gotten on a trip to AC, at the Mr. Peanut store. Supposedly I would get them back when the project came home. Well, it never did come home, and I never got my trucks back. Last I saw them was several years later, when I had to go into a storage room at school, and saw the tunnel project, still sitting there with my trucks in it. The nun in charge of my class wouldn't let me take the project, or my trucks, home. For all I know, it's probably still there, 50-some years later. And I'm psychically scarred for life by the experience.
Of course, I did learn from the project that the tunnel doesn't lie on the riverbed, in the water. I used to worry that the tunnel might spring a leak, and get full of water. Not gonna happen. I suppose the train tunnel is similarly buried under the riverbed. So while I'm stuck in a train sitting still in the tunnel, the potential for drowning is slim. However, based on where we were stopped this morning, about two levels below street grade, we were actually not under the river, but under a building. That could be rather messy, if the building came down on the tracks for some reason. Heavy stuff.
It gets weird when I ought to be sleeping and get interrupted like this. All sorts of odd stuff comes up.
I was almost asleep when some inconsiderate asshole parked outside and offloaded a passel of screeching children. So now I am wide awake, and the brain is running amok.
Talking about tunnels earlier, I remember when I was a little kid and my older sister was in elementary school, she did a project about the Lincoln Tunnel, which involved building a model of it. She "borrowed" a couple of trucks from me, which I had gotten on a trip to AC, at the Mr. Peanut store. Supposedly I would get them back when the project came home. Well, it never did come home, and I never got my trucks back. Last I saw them was several years later, when I had to go into a storage room at school, and saw the tunnel project, still sitting there with my trucks in it. The nun in charge of my class wouldn't let me take the project, or my trucks, home. For all I know, it's probably still there, 50-some years later. And I'm psychically scarred for life by the experience.
Of course, I did learn from the project that the tunnel doesn't lie on the riverbed, in the water. I used to worry that the tunnel might spring a leak, and get full of water. Not gonna happen. I suppose the train tunnel is similarly buried under the riverbed. So while I'm stuck in a train sitting still in the tunnel, the potential for drowning is slim. However, based on where we were stopped this morning, about two levels below street grade, we were actually not under the river, but under a building. That could be rather messy, if the building came down on the tracks for some reason. Heavy stuff.
It gets weird when I ought to be sleeping and get interrupted like this. All sorts of odd stuff comes up.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
couple of things that bug me
Well, maybe more than a couple.
They built - finished building - the new beach access across the street. We even got new trash and recycling cans near it. But they didn't put benches on the deck. We used to have benches on the deck. It was nice to sit up there of an evening, and watch the colors change. No mas. Ya gotta stand, anymore. The "new normal." It sucks.
The train this morning got within walking distance of Penn Station, and stopped. It stayed stopped in the freaking tunnel for about 20 minutes. Which of course made me late for work. Worse, tho, it made me claustrophobic, sitting in the tunnel so extra long. Bad enough we sometimes (usually in the morning) take the "long tunnel" instead of the "short tunnel." (Please note, there is only ONE actual tunnel, containing two whole tracks.) But just sitting there in the total darkness is excruciating.
My current favorite lunch place, Dali Deli (I'm not kidding, that's really its name) didn't have shrimp on the cold bar today. I had shashimi instead. Probably tipped my sodium level over the limit. I compensated, tho, by not having time to buy a bag of chips on my way to the evening train (of which I was two trains later than usual, partially due to the tunnel thing this morning, and partially due to other work issues). Which in turn resulted in my not having enough singles for parking tomorrow, so I have to do quarters again. At some point I run out of quarters. Twelve a day is heavy business. Literally.
And one thing I really can't stand, after a four hour round trip commute and more than eight hours of grueling mental labor, not to mention getting up and down from my aero chair numerous times with an aching back (from doing too much heavy lifting over the weekend, I suppose), is having someone meet me at the door when I get home and chat my ears off for a half hour or so. One, I haven't eaten for over 7 hours, and my blood sugar level is bottoming out; two, I REALLY need to use the bathroom; and three, I really can't stand someone gabbing my ears off when I just pull in the driveway. I need some time to unwind before I can deal with people. So now that I don't have a husband (thank god), my son has his own house in another state, and I no longer have a roomie of any description, what happens? My mother has to deliver the dog, and hangs around to chat. She has ten times the social life I have, yet she needs to tell me everything that went on all day.
Sigh. Thanks for listening, folks. Much better price per hour than my shrink.
They built - finished building - the new beach access across the street. We even got new trash and recycling cans near it. But they didn't put benches on the deck. We used to have benches on the deck. It was nice to sit up there of an evening, and watch the colors change. No mas. Ya gotta stand, anymore. The "new normal." It sucks.
The train this morning got within walking distance of Penn Station, and stopped. It stayed stopped in the freaking tunnel for about 20 minutes. Which of course made me late for work. Worse, tho, it made me claustrophobic, sitting in the tunnel so extra long. Bad enough we sometimes (usually in the morning) take the "long tunnel" instead of the "short tunnel." (Please note, there is only ONE actual tunnel, containing two whole tracks.) But just sitting there in the total darkness is excruciating.
My current favorite lunch place, Dali Deli (I'm not kidding, that's really its name) didn't have shrimp on the cold bar today. I had shashimi instead. Probably tipped my sodium level over the limit. I compensated, tho, by not having time to buy a bag of chips on my way to the evening train (of which I was two trains later than usual, partially due to the tunnel thing this morning, and partially due to other work issues). Which in turn resulted in my not having enough singles for parking tomorrow, so I have to do quarters again. At some point I run out of quarters. Twelve a day is heavy business. Literally.
And one thing I really can't stand, after a four hour round trip commute and more than eight hours of grueling mental labor, not to mention getting up and down from my aero chair numerous times with an aching back (from doing too much heavy lifting over the weekend, I suppose), is having someone meet me at the door when I get home and chat my ears off for a half hour or so. One, I haven't eaten for over 7 hours, and my blood sugar level is bottoming out; two, I REALLY need to use the bathroom; and three, I really can't stand someone gabbing my ears off when I just pull in the driveway. I need some time to unwind before I can deal with people. So now that I don't have a husband (thank god), my son has his own house in another state, and I no longer have a roomie of any description, what happens? My mother has to deliver the dog, and hangs around to chat. She has ten times the social life I have, yet she needs to tell me everything that went on all day.
Sigh. Thanks for listening, folks. Much better price per hour than my shrink.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
down time (again)
Ok, so now I'm really depressed. Back when we were all in the same boat, so to speak, and everyone in the neighborhood who had stayed thru the storm was cleaning up, and sharing stories and pizza and laborers, electricians and plumbers, we had all thought we ought to have a block party to celebrate surviving Sandy.
The party never happened, of course. The camaraderie sort of dried up as the basements did, and washed away with the mold. The neighborhood went back to the way it was, everybody sort of knows each other, but is too busy to get together about anything much.
I've discovered lately that everyone ELSE knows each other rather well, but I'm still the outsider, having lived here only 15 years. But that's another story, I suppose.
The real story is, other than the renters who have not come back at all, and a house or two that are now for rent that used to be owner-occupied, and one guy who has not yet been back to his summer cottage, but I can understand since he lives in Hoboken and probably has issues there as well, the "regulars" are here. So make that seven households out of the 18 or so homes on the block. I'm guestimating, don't feel like going out and counting, it's dark out and I'm not quite over thinking we have an after-dark curfew (which disappeared easier than the mold did, when summer started). Oh, and I'm not counting the new people who bought just before the storm and I, at least, don't really know at all.
And of those seven households, as of Saturday, two of the nominal heads of household have died since the storm. Tony and George, both 64, both born in July, so neither one quite made his 65th birthday. They knew each other forever, it seems they all grew up around here and never left.
Tony learned, just after the storm, that what was initially diagnosed as pneumonia was actually lung cancer, which aggressively spread thru every part of him almost before anyone understood what was going on. George had a heart attack a couple of weeks ago. They had thought initially that he also broke his neck, when he collapsed, but that was disproven. However, he went into the hospital and never came home. Apparently he had been out for too long, and had minimal brain activity, and so it went. Better, in my opinion, to have taken only a couple of weeks, rather than 9 months, like the husband of a friend of mine in Canada. Just thinking of the financial impact (not to mention stress on the other members of the family) of an extended, hopeless, hospital ordeal.
Still, and I guess this is the point of this discourse, two of our very local Sandy survivors are now dead, and I really think their deaths can be attributed at least in part to Sandy. They were strong, but maybe not strong enough, and I think the added strain of having their houses and lives wrecked helped them along, not in a good way.
Each of them was basically a good man, depending on the context in which one knew them. And George was one of only two people who knew how to keep my boiler going long past its use-by date (the other one is in jail for killing his son-in-law - maybe it's something about that boiler, but it died in the storm and is now sitting in the basement inert and waiting for a metal scrapper to want to work hard enough to remove it).
Yes, I knew them from around the neighborhood, but not very well. And both men had sons who gave my son a hard way to go when we first moved here, and were a large part of why I spent an awful lot of money I really didn't have to send my son to private high school.
But even with a mixed history, I feel their loss. It's like another tear in the fabric of life here, which was already in tatters. We'd all been stitching it back together, bit by bit, but now the stitches have burst, again.
The party never happened, of course. The camaraderie sort of dried up as the basements did, and washed away with the mold. The neighborhood went back to the way it was, everybody sort of knows each other, but is too busy to get together about anything much.
I've discovered lately that everyone ELSE knows each other rather well, but I'm still the outsider, having lived here only 15 years. But that's another story, I suppose.
The real story is, other than the renters who have not come back at all, and a house or two that are now for rent that used to be owner-occupied, and one guy who has not yet been back to his summer cottage, but I can understand since he lives in Hoboken and probably has issues there as well, the "regulars" are here. So make that seven households out of the 18 or so homes on the block. I'm guestimating, don't feel like going out and counting, it's dark out and I'm not quite over thinking we have an after-dark curfew (which disappeared easier than the mold did, when summer started). Oh, and I'm not counting the new people who bought just before the storm and I, at least, don't really know at all.
And of those seven households, as of Saturday, two of the nominal heads of household have died since the storm. Tony and George, both 64, both born in July, so neither one quite made his 65th birthday. They knew each other forever, it seems they all grew up around here and never left.
Tony learned, just after the storm, that what was initially diagnosed as pneumonia was actually lung cancer, which aggressively spread thru every part of him almost before anyone understood what was going on. George had a heart attack a couple of weeks ago. They had thought initially that he also broke his neck, when he collapsed, but that was disproven. However, he went into the hospital and never came home. Apparently he had been out for too long, and had minimal brain activity, and so it went. Better, in my opinion, to have taken only a couple of weeks, rather than 9 months, like the husband of a friend of mine in Canada. Just thinking of the financial impact (not to mention stress on the other members of the family) of an extended, hopeless, hospital ordeal.
Still, and I guess this is the point of this discourse, two of our very local Sandy survivors are now dead, and I really think their deaths can be attributed at least in part to Sandy. They were strong, but maybe not strong enough, and I think the added strain of having their houses and lives wrecked helped them along, not in a good way.
Each of them was basically a good man, depending on the context in which one knew them. And George was one of only two people who knew how to keep my boiler going long past its use-by date (the other one is in jail for killing his son-in-law - maybe it's something about that boiler, but it died in the storm and is now sitting in the basement inert and waiting for a metal scrapper to want to work hard enough to remove it).
Yes, I knew them from around the neighborhood, but not very well. And both men had sons who gave my son a hard way to go when we first moved here, and were a large part of why I spent an awful lot of money I really didn't have to send my son to private high school.
But even with a mixed history, I feel their loss. It's like another tear in the fabric of life here, which was already in tatters. We'd all been stitching it back together, bit by bit, but now the stitches have burst, again.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Mixed bag
It's finally raining, not hard, but wet nonetheless. I'll take it, my tomatoes look dreadful from too much hot and not enough water.
Pablo is not pleased about the rain, but he is happy that his terrible towel is back, now that the kitchen floor is done. I fold the towel and leave it in a particular spot for him, and he moves it wherever he wants to move it, then lays down for a nap. At the moment, it's in the middle of the floor, so you have to walk around it no matter where in the kitchen you need to go.
This picture was early in the process. The towel has spread and formed a circle, with an indentation just the right size for a dog like Pablo. He builds dog circles (or nests) on my bed, too, out of whatever blankets happen to be available.
Before the rain, I got a picture of the flowers on what was supposedly a butterfly bush which my Mom planted in my back yard.
Much as I don't care for bennies parking here to use the beach for free (and then dumping their trash here before they leave), they have been coming and parking here even without the stairs, using people's private accesses, and leaving their messes anyhow. So maybe this will get them off private property (and thus end the liability the owners might have if someone has an accident), and MAYBE we'll get our trash cans back (they used to live under the stairs, but I guess they floated away in the storm, they're probably at the bottom of the river somewhere now). And if we have trash cans, MAYBE people will pick up after their dogs? Is that too much to ask? And MAYBE some of the food trash these slobs dump all over the street will wind up in a proper receptacle for a change?
More importantly, I will once more have a quick way to get onto the beach, so if there's a particularly interesting phenomenon happening - like sunrises or cloud pattens or rainbows or whatever - I will actually be able to get over there with my camera before it goes away. Plus, get better pictures, since there are no obstructions (like electric wires) once you're on top of the wall.
And having the public access right across the street means I don't need to build a deck myself, and have the maintenance and liability issues that go with. So, mostly good, all around.
Pablo is not pleased about the rain, but he is happy that his terrible towel is back, now that the kitchen floor is done. I fold the towel and leave it in a particular spot for him, and he moves it wherever he wants to move it, then lays down for a nap. At the moment, it's in the middle of the floor, so you have to walk around it no matter where in the kitchen you need to go.
This picture was early in the process. The towel has spread and formed a circle, with an indentation just the right size for a dog like Pablo. He builds dog circles (or nests) on my bed, too, out of whatever blankets happen to be available.
Before the rain, I got a picture of the flowers on what was supposedly a butterfly bush which my Mom planted in my back yard.
Doesn't look like a butterfly bush to me. Hibiscus, maybe? Very pretty anyway, and maybe since the blossoms are pink the butterflies might like them in spite of them not being "official."
And in other news of a very local nature, work has commenced on our new stairs and deck over the sea wall. We get a public access due to being one of the few places in town a non-resident (aka bennie) can park, and the old one got totally washed away in the storm (a chunk of it landed in my back yard). They laid the platform the other day, stopped work because it got too hot, and resumed today (until the rain started). If there isn't too much rain, maybe we'll have easier beach access by the weekend.
More importantly, I will once more have a quick way to get onto the beach, so if there's a particularly interesting phenomenon happening - like sunrises or cloud pattens or rainbows or whatever - I will actually be able to get over there with my camera before it goes away. Plus, get better pictures, since there are no obstructions (like electric wires) once you're on top of the wall.
And having the public access right across the street means I don't need to build a deck myself, and have the maintenance and liability issues that go with. So, mostly good, all around.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Sunday nite, still no rain
Last evening's rumbling was just an empty threat. Cooler today, but still no rain, and the humidity is still way up there in the stratosphere.
Laundry is back together and got a good workout today, four loads, which is a lot for me. Made several bags of trash, and filled my recycling can to the rim. Still have a bag full of catalogs and magazines to go, but I can tie those up separately, they don't have to fit in the can.
Don't I have an exciting life? No wonder I get depressed on Sunday nite...something about looking forward to another week of the sos. That's same old stuff, for those who don't know. Can I be bored now?
OTOH, I'm still cleaning up after the last time we had some real excitement around here - Oct 29. So maybe being bored isn't so awful.
Laundry is back together and got a good workout today, four loads, which is a lot for me. Made several bags of trash, and filled my recycling can to the rim. Still have a bag full of catalogs and magazines to go, but I can tie those up separately, they don't have to fit in the can.
Don't I have an exciting life? No wonder I get depressed on Sunday nite...something about looking forward to another week of the sos. That's same old stuff, for those who don't know. Can I be bored now?
OTOH, I'm still cleaning up after the last time we had some real excitement around here - Oct 29. So maybe being bored isn't so awful.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
distant thunder
Sounds like the name of a movie? No, it's actually been rumbling for a while now. Everyone has had their dogs out for a last pee before something breaks, now we just sit and wait for weather to happen. Pablo is barking his brains out, I did my rain dance, now sitting with fingers crossed that it actually does rain. Noticing that it's hard to type with your fingers crossed.
Friday, July 19, 2013
hot, hotter, hottest
Last nite when I got in my car at the train station, it told me it was 106F. By the time I got home twenty minutes later, it was 89F. While it's true I live north of the train station, it's only 7 miles, so it ought not to make such a huge difference. How hot it is seems to depend on exactly where you are standing, and yes, it really is cooler at the shore. Most of the time, anyhow.
My alarm clock has a temp reading on it, but it's stuck on Celsius. I'm sort of learning how to correlate 32C to too hot F. An hour of the a/c and it was down to 28C, which is much better.
Did I mention I don't get along very well with air conditioning? I try not to use it unless it's literally hotter than hell.
I remember when my Dad was alive, he would always drink hot coffee when it was hot out. He said it made him sweat, which made him feel cooler. Not sure I subscribe to that logic, but ok.
The thing that amazes me is, with all this heat, we haven't had a thunderstorm all week. I'm waiting. Probably happen Saturday, when I need to get some work done outdoors. Never fails.
My alarm clock has a temp reading on it, but it's stuck on Celsius. I'm sort of learning how to correlate 32C to too hot F. An hour of the a/c and it was down to 28C, which is much better.
Did I mention I don't get along very well with air conditioning? I try not to use it unless it's literally hotter than hell.
I remember when my Dad was alive, he would always drink hot coffee when it was hot out. He said it made him sweat, which made him feel cooler. Not sure I subscribe to that logic, but ok.
The thing that amazes me is, with all this heat, we haven't had a thunderstorm all week. I'm waiting. Probably happen Saturday, when I need to get some work done outdoors. Never fails.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
the bridges, for Millie
These are pictures I took up on 125th St when we went to the Cotton Club for On Site Opera's presentation of Gershwin's Blue Monday.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
kitchen floor is almost done
It needs details finished, and the closets, and we decided to do the laundry area while we're at it. But the bulk of the work is done. We all got sorta silly from the glue fumes this afternoon....
Here is is with the new sub-floor installed. Even that looked a lot better than the old carpet. Who on earth puts carpet in a kitchen?
The new floor. I think it makes the space look bigger. My mother says if I get rid of the clutter, it will look even bigger. Well, I can only do so many things at one time, so the clutter is staying until after the work is all done.
Pablo approves. And no, I didn't choose it because it matches the dog. Purely a coincidence. Honest.
Friday, July 12, 2013
got the flooring for the kitchen
With a little bit of luck, it ought to be installed tomorrow, my handy dudes will be here bright and early to get on the case. It will be nice to be able to walk in the kitchen without sticking to the floor. And to put my kitchen back together, so I can cook and actually sit down to eat there again. Right now it looks like a tornado hit it.
I'm tired of having people working on my house. I just want to be left alone. We're close to done with the first floor, one more bedroom to paint, and reassembling the kitchen. Then there's the upstairs. I don't even want to think about that yet.
And when it's all done, we need to paint the stairs. I think if we do that first, it'll get mucked up when we do the upstairs work. Gotta get the ducks in order. So the stairs are the last thing on the list.
Still trying to run out of projects before I run out of money. Fingers crossed.
I'm tired of having people working on my house. I just want to be left alone. We're close to done with the first floor, one more bedroom to paint, and reassembling the kitchen. Then there's the upstairs. I don't even want to think about that yet.
And when it's all done, we need to paint the stairs. I think if we do that first, it'll get mucked up when we do the upstairs work. Gotta get the ducks in order. So the stairs are the last thing on the list.
Still trying to run out of projects before I run out of money. Fingers crossed.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
can I be pissed off now?
This is what PART of my kitchen floor looks like, once the sticky tile remnants are peeled off. The operative word is PART. If the whole floor was made of this wood, I'd just have it refinished and be done with it. But no. Nothing in this house is ever so easy. Part is like this, part is the yellow stuff (also some sort of wood) you can see to the left, and a whole lot of the floor is plywood and cheap luan board. Grrrr.....damn cheap 80's construction. It looks like they ripped off some other construction sites and made the floor out of whatever they could steal.
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