Precious Space

Having just moved (mostly, don't ask - literal nightmares are wearing me down) from 900 square feet to 2,200 (deemed reliable but not guaranteed) and facing having to buy more fossil fuels to keep it "tolerable" in the Midwestern climate, plus continue to power computers, a fridge (new=efficient? we did not choose it, doubt it's an Energy Star), a water heater (not tankless, again, another predetermined choice), etc., this spatial comparison from Daily Dose of Architecture is "isn't that something?"

And we believe as a household of only two humans, one cat and six birds (latter use very little energy!) that we're justified. This size of home is "supposed" to have kids in it, I guess. But that would make it less efficient – more lights on, more flushing, more bathing and dish/clothes-washing – wouldn't it?

Sanity

If one can "possess" a tree, then this one would be "ours."

The colors of all the winter-readying deciduous branching things
(and the fact that it's sunny enough to appreciate them)
is about the only thing keeping me from losing it.

Also the fact that I can see things like this on my way to work:

No, not the construction fence, or downtown or the sky.
My poor photography has made this hawk, six feet off the ground and across from
Parade Park Homes, somewhat like Bigfoot, but s/he's there.

How

I am involved with a group of generally post-immigrant white-ish people who make me giggle:

COPY: We will have next year's picnic at George Owens Nature Park on Saturday, October 11, 2008.

THIS MAKES ME GIGGLE, TOO: Delete Reply Forward Spam Move...

[Ah, computer adendums - adendi?]

HINT: Don't get involved with those who use Native American names, unless they are from here more genetically than thou.

It appears again free Internet is within my domestic grasp. It's interesting. I think if I was beaming wireless, I would password it. Of course, given its user name, it may be seasonal.

Our first siren. Ah.

T.V. sans cable works well, too.

Of course, there are about 90 cable connections in the box outside; the wired phone shows evidence of tons of residents with individual accounts.

This iMac battery is not that which it was cracked up to be. It was not obvious at all that the person who sold the item to me at my request had no clear idea or fact for battery life. Sigh.

It is all about the sigh, isn't it?

Four score and seven

. . .boxes of books. . . .

Three flights of stairs down. . . two flights of stairs up. . . .

Most of them are unpacked. More than 200 cubic feet of paper is waiting on the floor for the furniture.

These are estimates.

We are waiting on receiving one from Angel the electrician.

We are taking bets on the December MGE bill. Prizes include . . .

books. . . .

I was right

They were "there," but the building was not opened (by another party who was late) until 10:30.

I had left at 10:20, from 9:45.

There were no messages at the office and the phone number for him was not a cell.

He said he had called. Doesn't help me much.

Now, when we are in the middle of Big Moving Day, I will have to shift my brain and spent two or more hours giving a hoot about others.

Hoot! Hoot!

Contrast

I couldn't find the kids at all. Doors locked. No children in sight.

Diane passed her GRE, so all is well.

Faux Cruel Fate

What could be sadder than having to give up sleeping in on a quiet, rainy Saturday morning to go sit at a Kaplan computer, agonizing over algebraic "tricks," writing statements persuasively about bland, vague subjects, and hoping your brain can function as well as an electronic dictionary so you can determine whether "palliate" and "exacerbate" are indeed antonyms?

Right now I could be taking the GRE. My friend is doing it, and I stopped studying over a month ago when I realized I a) was not all that capable of learning math all over again, as if from scratch; b) didn't need it for the degree I want.

(Besides, I took it 11 years ago, on paper, when the analytical section was made of puzzles and not writing, and I did very well in vocabulary, decently in "thinking," and adequately in the math. I was so much older then, and I'm younger than that now. So, no, I really don't want to go through it again. Diane is a heroine.)

As for me, instead of sleeping here in the dark with the cat and/or my husband and/or a book, I will go out into the rain, put on a cheery disposition and meet some 15 or so track club kids, some of whom have qualified for or participated in some kind of Junior Olympics, I think.

Rah, rah, city kids, have you any pull?
Yes, ma'am, yes, ma'am, we'll summon you.

What would Charlie Brown do?

Redeemed

Biblio Boy is back from the low lands of "never post" and with a new theme. Knowing what I do of him, his zest for all things TV and theatre should keep his blog (if not as fresh as poppin' daily bread) quite tasty.

Read about a favorite show of ours, "Kitchen Nightmares," plus a candid review of "Bad Dates," now playing at the Copaken Stage downtown.

(On the other hand, I've had to demote Mad Brown Woman, whom I miss but I guess is just way too busy being an MD now or being scrupulously ethical to post anymore. Or, maybe she's found the love of her life!)

Dark

There is a design flaw in MacBook, that the keyboard does not have a glow feature, so that you can write at night without having to sear out your pupils, shorten your times between visits to the optometrist staring at a screen that's too bright, as dim as it will go, as the stupid instinct - typing teachers of our past would call it a reprehensible habit - to keep glancing down at the keys can't be suppressed.

Actually, I'm doing quite well without the crutch.

There was a time when I could not do numbers or trust where the delete key was without looking.

I want to be asleep.

It should kick in in a couple of hours when I should get up.

Last night, there was little sleep. Too nervous and then too annoyed by the four hours of hovering police helicopters.

It's not nice to complain about something others deal with more frequently.

It's not quite a combat zone, here, yet.

Ten years ago when I was living in Japan, my apartment was adjacent to a military base, and as I am fond of naps and used to be able to take them, I became quite proficient at sleeping with my head between pillows or, in warmer weather, with a finger in my ear.

Last night, nothing worked.

Today, so far there have been a few crashes from the trash trucks emptying their metal containers about town before the legal hour of seven.

Later, should I have time, I will post clishé photos of the grandly-opened Sprint Center (glass fishbowl downtown arena) and point out its design flaws.

Suddenly six days

They go by, noted or not.
Nothing I can say here, too many spies!

American Royal

It's all about watching horses.

And mini mules. . .

And Mizzou's signature regular mules, Terry and Tim. . .

. . . followed by a usurping by the Shriners, who comprised about half of the latter part of the parade (and are demonstrating what my next car will be: who can say no to a metallic dune buggy that's just like the carnival ride cars - with one instead of six steering wheels - remembered from school picnics 20 years ago and still being carted around the country and taking kids for a ride?) Yes, I want a dune buggy!

They kept coming.

But, it's all about watching horses (watching me).

The John Deere antique tractor club is great, too, for its noise and diesel smoke contribution.

The Harrah's Casino float, with its line-dancing half-dressed girls - including one on a wagon behind who was astride and feigning enjoyment of a mechanical bull - was blaring a recorded song I've fortunately erased from my head to the detriment of my parade enjoyment and of some horses' comfort. Decidedly not family friendly!

The spacing of competitors was not done well. Loud radio "floats" should not precede marching bands or be staged so close to delicate equines. Shriners should not wait so long that there is block between each set of classic or funny cars when everyone is wondering if the parade is ending. And the kids in the bands and dance troupes need to smile more.

Jackson v. Cook

I can't believe a government is proposing a sales tax increase from .75 percent to 2.75 percent.

And you thought things were bad here!