Well okay, I'm not sure if I should classify this as a good thing or not. But yesterday I withdrew from a discussion forum in which I have been a member since it began 20-something years ago. When it started, we were still doing email on something called Pine....which I bet 99% of people reading this will have no clue what that might be. This was the internet and email pre-gooey interface. However you spell that. I'm having a bad spell day today.
Lately the group has been beset by what my son (who is 20-something) calls trolls. They have spoiled the enjoyment of the discussion for a lot of the group members, and yesterday they just got so insanely vituperative against someone I consider a friend, I pulled the plug.
I decided some time ago that I don't need that kind of negativity in my life, and I've taken steps to eliminate a lot of the more negative people and things I had been dealing with. This group, though, I have given many, many "second chances," and I am kind of sorry to see it come to this end. BUT....I see no valid reason they went off on my friend like they did, and they have done this same thing repeatedly over the last couple of seasons. It's no use trying to say anything, that only opens me to attack, as well. I don't need that kind of nastiness in my life. Especially since there is no reason for it.
I'm trying to figure out my reaction to shutting these people out of my life. I not only signed off the list, I also deleted all the 9,000-something old posts that had accumulated in my email inbox over the past several years. It's done, finito, fini. Das ende.
It's not withdrawal I am feeling. I think it's disappointment. Disappointment that a group of people who came together because they all purportedly love the same thing could turn so ugly. My faith in the inherent goodness of people is a little shaken, I guess. I'm not liking that feeling.
OTOH, I will get over this, and I will survive. And life will get more positive, because I just deleted a large black cloud from my sky.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Picture of the day
Yes, we're sorta back to that. It's a grey, gloomy day, even the dog didn't want to go far, so we walked around the block, and visited the river. It's one of those days when the sky is about the same color as the water, and they kind of merge together if not for the bridge, which I've gotten used to, but still don't especially like. I much prefer the old bridge, it had character. The new one is just new. That's about all I can say for it.
So here's the picture, just shrunk a tad to get rid of the trash/recycle can:
I didn't really check to see if my horizon is straight. Looks pretty straight to me, but then, I took it with the phone, and those tend to come out pretty straight. Probably because my nose doesn't get in the way....I've got a pretty big one, as noses go.
I think I prefer the river in the winter, same way I prefer the beach in the winter. No people, just nature. It looks better to me that way.
Here's the old bridge, shortly before they tore it down to build the new one:
This was taken from about the same place, but with a real camera, and the zoom lens. Doesn't hurt that the sky was beautiful that day, just about twilight.
Funny thing about being here. It's the same view all the time (which is not a particularly bad thing), but it looks totally different on any given day. Progress happens, in the form of a new bridge, or changes to the houses, or whatever, but the river is always pretty much the same, except that it wears a different color every day, and sometimes several different colors in the same day. If I changed that often, I'd have to spend my life doing laundry. Nature is much more efficient that way.
So here's the picture, just shrunk a tad to get rid of the trash/recycle can:
I didn't really check to see if my horizon is straight. Looks pretty straight to me, but then, I took it with the phone, and those tend to come out pretty straight. Probably because my nose doesn't get in the way....I've got a pretty big one, as noses go.
I think I prefer the river in the winter, same way I prefer the beach in the winter. No people, just nature. It looks better to me that way.
Here's the old bridge, shortly before they tore it down to build the new one:
This was taken from about the same place, but with a real camera, and the zoom lens. Doesn't hurt that the sky was beautiful that day, just about twilight.
Funny thing about being here. It's the same view all the time (which is not a particularly bad thing), but it looks totally different on any given day. Progress happens, in the form of a new bridge, or changes to the houses, or whatever, but the river is always pretty much the same, except that it wears a different color every day, and sometimes several different colors in the same day. If I changed that often, I'd have to spend my life doing laundry. Nature is much more efficient that way.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
It's the economy, stupid
Or is that the stupid economy? Or is it simply that our expectations have been so inflated that we expect miracles in a time when miracles no longer happen?
Case in point: look closely at the photo, which I scanned from an ad I received last week from a certain store where I shop once in a while.
It's the Christmas special on the latest Barbie-mobile. A VW Beetle. In pink, of course.
When I was a kid, back in what now seems to have been the golden age, Barbie drove a Corvette. Back then, real people could afford to drive a Corvette, they weren't any more costly than the average family sedan. Now, you have to be one of those 1%-ers to even consider a Vette, nevermind feed one. I looked it up. The 2012 Vettes appear to start at an MSRP just a hair's breadth short of $50k, and run up to the Centennial Edition ZR1 at a whopping $127,970. Plus tax and title. And then there's the insurance.
No wonder Barbie is getting a Beetle.
A few weeks ago, I was standing in a will-call line at the Washington National Opera, waiting to pick up my free dress rehearsal passes. The woman behind me in line was bemoaning the fact that she'd had to trade in her Vette, and settled for a mere Infinity, in her view a major slide down the social ladder. From the way she was dressed, I would've sworn she was one of those 1%-ers. Maybe even they are feeling the pinch, just a bit.
But the tragedy of Barbie driving a Beetle is being difficult for me to get over. My youthful dreams have been shattered. Barbie is part of the disappearing middle class! What's left for little girls to aspire to?
Case in point: look closely at the photo, which I scanned from an ad I received last week from a certain store where I shop once in a while.
It's the Christmas special on the latest Barbie-mobile. A VW Beetle. In pink, of course.
When I was a kid, back in what now seems to have been the golden age, Barbie drove a Corvette. Back then, real people could afford to drive a Corvette, they weren't any more costly than the average family sedan. Now, you have to be one of those 1%-ers to even consider a Vette, nevermind feed one. I looked it up. The 2012 Vettes appear to start at an MSRP just a hair's breadth short of $50k, and run up to the Centennial Edition ZR1 at a whopping $127,970. Plus tax and title. And then there's the insurance.
No wonder Barbie is getting a Beetle.
A few weeks ago, I was standing in a will-call line at the Washington National Opera, waiting to pick up my free dress rehearsal passes. The woman behind me in line was bemoaning the fact that she'd had to trade in her Vette, and settled for a mere Infinity, in her view a major slide down the social ladder. From the way she was dressed, I would've sworn she was one of those 1%-ers. Maybe even they are feeling the pinch, just a bit.
But the tragedy of Barbie driving a Beetle is being difficult for me to get over. My youthful dreams have been shattered. Barbie is part of the disappearing middle class! What's left for little girls to aspire to?
Friday, October 21, 2011
sunrise in sepia
This morning's picture:
October is probably the best time of year to do sunrise pictures at the beach, at least at my beach. There's something about the light that is special now. And the camera in the phone does odd things with the light. Then there's also the fact that in October you don't have to get up at 5 in the morning to see the sun come up. Every little bit helps.
I still haven't gotten out there in the morning with the real camera. I'm sure there's some deep psychological reason for that, but I don't really want to examine it too closely right now. There's more than enough turmoil going on in my life already, without me dredging up stuff I don't need to think about.
Taking a few pictures helps with the deep psychological stuff. Sometimes. The trick, which I have yet to master, is getting out consistently with the camera. It's just not happening. Too much of life gets in the way. I keep telling myself it's only a phase, that this too shall pass. I wish it would go ahead and do so, already. Any time now would be good.
October is probably the best time of year to do sunrise pictures at the beach, at least at my beach. There's something about the light that is special now. And the camera in the phone does odd things with the light. Then there's also the fact that in October you don't have to get up at 5 in the morning to see the sun come up. Every little bit helps.
I still haven't gotten out there in the morning with the real camera. I'm sure there's some deep psychological reason for that, but I don't really want to examine it too closely right now. There's more than enough turmoil going on in my life already, without me dredging up stuff I don't need to think about.
Taking a few pictures helps with the deep psychological stuff. Sometimes. The trick, which I have yet to master, is getting out consistently with the camera. It's just not happening. Too much of life gets in the way. I keep telling myself it's only a phase, that this too shall pass. I wish it would go ahead and do so, already. Any time now would be good.
Yet another Pablo imposter
Halloween is coming, and with it pictures of dogs in costumes. This one gave me a good laugh - one of the smallest of dogs dressed up to look like one of the biggest of horses.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
will the real Pablo please bark?
 |
| this one's a girl |
 |
| I thought you said Chi's don't DO water? |
 |
| woof! |
 |
| Enough of this nonsense! Let's vamoose! |
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
The twiddling of thumbs
Other people's holidays beset me. There is literally nothing to do, so I do nothing. Without deadlines and time pressure and too much to do, nothing at all gets done.
I didn't think it was a good day to go out taking pictures, so I only brought the phone with me on our morning walk. Still, not such a bad shot of the beach, there really is quite a lot of sand out there, other side of the rocks, but I like the aspect with rocks framing the softness, natural landscaping edging the rocks. Hards and softs mixed.
Amazingly, well, amazing to me, anyhow, this picture came out of the camera - whoops, I mean phone - with the horizon absolutely straight. This is an issue I have always had with photography (well, at least since someone pointed it out to me). I don't see straight (I have a pretty pronounced astigmatism), so all my photos come out with the horizon at an angle, and I need to photoshop them to level them off. If I don't, I suspect all the water will run off the edge of the picture, so the waterscape will no longer have any water in it....which might look rather odd, I think.
If someone had not pointed it out to me, chances are I never would have noticed. Now I notice constantly, incessantly. When I look at photos being sold at art shows, the first thing I notice is whether the horizon is level. I'm amazed at how often it isn't, and not because someone was trying to be artistic.
This appears to be one of those things where ignorance is bliss. And awareness is a PITA. If anyone doesn't know what a PITA is, drop me a note. I'll be glad to fill you in.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Heat Lightning
Here's an old story I wrote a number of years ago, one summer night when the weight of the air was pressing down on me:
It was a night much like tonight - brooding clouds after a day just a bit too hot to be comfortable; lightning skittering across the bay; a hope that something had to happen, and soon. All the cousins were down the shore at our place; Mom said 'let's go to Dragon's,' and we all piled in the '57 Ford wagon, green and white the way Fords could be then, T-bird engine roaring as we pulled away, tailgate open, the older cousins' legs hanging off the back.
Dragon's was a soda fountain and notable comic book store (aka newsstand for the older folk) and it was next to a marina in a place inexplicably called Green Island - a place mostly tan, not green, and, as far as we could tell, maybe a peninsula but definitely not an island by any measure. It wasn't too far from our bungalow in Silverton, just far enough to want to ride, in the heat.
Closer to the bay, a cool breeze was blowing, so it was inspiring to walk out on the marina docks with our ice cream and comic books - always, the new ones were at Dragon's first, long before we could find them in the city. We all got so inspired, the whole gang of us cousins decided to walk back to the bungalow - officially known as Uncle Steve's Cabin - seeing as it was just heat lightning and it wasn't gonna rain....
Don't you know we were halfway home, the parents had long gone by in the wagon, and the whole sky broke open with gusting wind and soaking rain and man, were we scared, running like chickens without our heads, all the way home.
The old Ford's long gone, Dragon's is, too, though the marina is still there. Uncle Steve's gone, too, but his Cabin still stands. We all survived, and anymore when someone mentions heat lightning in our family, we all just laugh.
It was a night much like tonight - brooding clouds after a day just a bit too hot to be comfortable; lightning skittering across the bay; a hope that something had to happen, and soon. All the cousins were down the shore at our place; Mom said 'let's go to Dragon's,' and we all piled in the '57 Ford wagon, green and white the way Fords could be then, T-bird engine roaring as we pulled away, tailgate open, the older cousins' legs hanging off the back.
Dragon's was a soda fountain and notable comic book store (aka newsstand for the older folk) and it was next to a marina in a place inexplicably called Green Island - a place mostly tan, not green, and, as far as we could tell, maybe a peninsula but definitely not an island by any measure. It wasn't too far from our bungalow in Silverton, just far enough to want to ride, in the heat.
Closer to the bay, a cool breeze was blowing, so it was inspiring to walk out on the marina docks with our ice cream and comic books - always, the new ones were at Dragon's first, long before we could find them in the city. We all got so inspired, the whole gang of us cousins decided to walk back to the bungalow - officially known as Uncle Steve's Cabin - seeing as it was just heat lightning and it wasn't gonna rain....
Don't you know we were halfway home, the parents had long gone by in the wagon, and the whole sky broke open with gusting wind and soaking rain and man, were we scared, running like chickens without our heads, all the way home.
The old Ford's long gone, Dragon's is, too, though the marina is still there. Uncle Steve's gone, too, but his Cabin still stands. We all survived, and anymore when someone mentions heat lightning in our family, we all just laugh.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Post-Labor Day bliss?
Back in the day, Cid and I used to walk miles on the beach together, he learned early on how to do the off leash thing, and would snorffle along checking out the scents while I could do my thing, take pictures, search for collectibles, whatever. Or just lose myself in my own mind. That's the part I miss the most, being able to let my mind wander while the dog was getting his fill of physical and mental exercise and fresh air.
Since this dog is small, I still have to be somewhat alert for predators out there. I've seen foxes and raccoons, hawks and eagles, and oh, rattlesnakes (we have Eastern Diamondbacks now), any of which might find Pablo a tasty morsel. So alertness is required, or else I might find myself dogless again, and I would not like that one bit. Pablo may be small, but he's kind of grown on me. And he thinks he's big. So.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Rain, rain go away....
little Pablo wants to play. And to recover from his PTSD....and so maybe I can get him to not be glued to me every minute of every day. Today's cooler, and he was shivering up a storm this morning, so he is wearing a t-shirt and still won't let me be away from him for more than a minute at a time. At the moment, he is on my lap with his head draped over my left arm. So I'm hot, what with the windows mostly closed due to the all-day rain, and the dog attached to me. Yes, Pablo is a dog, in case you didn't know. He's a Chihuahua. Doesn't weigh much, but puts out a lot of heat.
So why, you might ask, does the dog have PTSD? Well, it started with the earthquake, followed closely by the forced evacuation and hurricane, followed by a visit from my grand-dog, who is six times his weight and many more than that times his size, and still a puppy, and therefore kind of pushy-enthusiastic, followed by interminable rain. HD hasn't shown up yet with the ark kit, but I expect them any day now, just hope they get here in time. My carpenter is coming Saturday to start work on it. I'm hoping I don't need it before then.
Got the old oars ready to use, one at each side of the house, in case it gets up and floats away. It'll be a chore racing from one side of the house to the other to try to steer, you know how a kayak goes in circles if you only apply oar from one side....I imagine the house would do something similar. Since I no longer have anyone living here other than myself, I guess I have to do all the rowing. Chihuahuas don't row well, and besides, they don't do water, or so Pablo has informed me on numerous occasions. I myself don't mind water, I just prefer that it stay outside the house.
At least this storm is bringing plain rain. This is the one coming up from the Gulf, whatever it's name was, Lee or something like that. No hail, no thunder (so far), and no 'damaging winds.' But the bench is still bungeed to the back deck, and the adirondacks are still bungeed to the railing on the upstairs deck, and the trash cans are heavy with contents, anyhow. No allowance for migratory furnishings. No outward migration of trash receptacles, tho inward migration is still possible. That's how I got the trash cans I have - mostly they came here in various storms, and decided to stay. It's not that bad a place to be a trash can. They have a good life here.
I suspect the rain is rotting my brain. What do you think?
So why, you might ask, does the dog have PTSD? Well, it started with the earthquake, followed closely by the forced evacuation and hurricane, followed by a visit from my grand-dog, who is six times his weight and many more than that times his size, and still a puppy, and therefore kind of pushy-enthusiastic, followed by interminable rain. HD hasn't shown up yet with the ark kit, but I expect them any day now, just hope they get here in time. My carpenter is coming Saturday to start work on it. I'm hoping I don't need it before then.
Got the old oars ready to use, one at each side of the house, in case it gets up and floats away. It'll be a chore racing from one side of the house to the other to try to steer, you know how a kayak goes in circles if you only apply oar from one side....I imagine the house would do something similar. Since I no longer have anyone living here other than myself, I guess I have to do all the rowing. Chihuahuas don't row well, and besides, they don't do water, or so Pablo has informed me on numerous occasions. I myself don't mind water, I just prefer that it stay outside the house.
At least this storm is bringing plain rain. This is the one coming up from the Gulf, whatever it's name was, Lee or something like that. No hail, no thunder (so far), and no 'damaging winds.' But the bench is still bungeed to the back deck, and the adirondacks are still bungeed to the railing on the upstairs deck, and the trash cans are heavy with contents, anyhow. No allowance for migratory furnishings. No outward migration of trash receptacles, tho inward migration is still possible. That's how I got the trash cans I have - mostly they came here in various storms, and decided to stay. It's not that bad a place to be a trash can. They have a good life here.
I suspect the rain is rotting my brain. What do you think?
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