Sunday, August 29, 2010
Monday, June 1, 2009
It's Summer!
I spent yesterday out on the lake, assisting our dinghy fleet with our regular race duty. The weather was beautiful. It wasn't too hot or too cold, the wind was shifty, but blowing, and little puffy clouds made things interesting. I saw some kayaks out along the shore, and it made me resolve to get out on the lake some more.
I need to get some rooftop blocks and a couple of good tie-downs that will let me get my little plastic boat down the street to the lake. It's only a mile-and-a-little away, and I miss paddling. It shouldn't be too hard to find something that I can rig to get me and the boat down there. That, I think, is my project for next weekend.
My back yard is a pit. The grass hasn't been cut, the fence needs repair, and the bamboo is just out of control. This is what I want to do. Hire a crew to come cut all the bamboo down, as well as the oleanders. I need to get some quotes and hire someone to replace the retaining wall between me and Creepy Neighbor. As part of that, the fence that Creepy Neighbor refuses to repair will need to be torn down. After this happens, I want to put up a new fence on my property, above the retaining wall in order to give me another 2 feet of privacy height. My best guess is that this will probably cost 5 grand. I don't have that. Neither does Bill. Bah. DIY.
This is what I probably will do. I really hate yard work. I just do. I know I'm perfectly capable of going back there to remove all the dead bamboo, cut it down, tie it up, and put it on the curb. I just don't want to. It's hard, hot, sweaty, exhausting work and I'm a whiny titty baby. However, I need to put on my big girl panties and just start doing it. Maybe if I do it a little at a time, it won't be so bad. Getting the back yard cleaned up, mowed, dog-poo-raked, and less trashy will improve my outlook.
The fence and the retaining wall will just have to wait.
I need to get some rooftop blocks and a couple of good tie-downs that will let me get my little plastic boat down the street to the lake. It's only a mile-and-a-little away, and I miss paddling. It shouldn't be too hard to find something that I can rig to get me and the boat down there. That, I think, is my project for next weekend.
My back yard is a pit. The grass hasn't been cut, the fence needs repair, and the bamboo is just out of control. This is what I want to do. Hire a crew to come cut all the bamboo down, as well as the oleanders. I need to get some quotes and hire someone to replace the retaining wall between me and Creepy Neighbor. As part of that, the fence that Creepy Neighbor refuses to repair will need to be torn down. After this happens, I want to put up a new fence on my property, above the retaining wall in order to give me another 2 feet of privacy height. My best guess is that this will probably cost 5 grand. I don't have that. Neither does Bill. Bah. DIY.
This is what I probably will do. I really hate yard work. I just do. I know I'm perfectly capable of going back there to remove all the dead bamboo, cut it down, tie it up, and put it on the curb. I just don't want to. It's hard, hot, sweaty, exhausting work and I'm a whiny titty baby. However, I need to put on my big girl panties and just start doing it. Maybe if I do it a little at a time, it won't be so bad. Getting the back yard cleaned up, mowed, dog-poo-raked, and less trashy will improve my outlook.
The fence and the retaining wall will just have to wait.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
NOOHOME
Honey came home today! She's camped out in the bathroom pending her FIV/FeLV test on Saturday. She's adorable, and so sweet. She looks like a Snowshoe cat, but she's missing her front "shoes." LOVE!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Photo Contest!
The PBS show "Nature" has an upcoming special on why we hoomans love our cats and logs so much. Why We Love Cats and Dogs premieres Sunday, February 15 on PBS (check local listings).
On the PBS/Nature website, they have a slideshow of great cats and dogs, and are sponsoring a photo contest. See their Why I Love Cats and Dogs Photo Contest Page for more details.
I've entered two of my photos! Who knows I may win a DVD.
On the PBS/Nature website, they have a slideshow of great cats and dogs, and are sponsoring a photo contest. See their Why I Love Cats and Dogs Photo Contest Page for more details.
I've entered two of my photos! Who knows I may win a DVD.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Darwin Days
Did you hear about Darwin Day? In celebration of the 200th anniversary of the publication of Darwin's "On the Origin of Species."
So one blog, ETrilobite is sponsoring a Darwinfest Haiku contest. I love haiku, so I entered...
Rites of spring evolve
A dinosaur sings a tune
outside my window
As an ode to the mockingbird outside my office who serenades me daily.
Check it out!
So one blog, ETrilobite is sponsoring a Darwinfest Haiku contest. I love haiku, so I entered...
Rites of spring evolve
A dinosaur sings a tune
outside my window
As an ode to the mockingbird outside my office who serenades me daily.
Check it out!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
A little housekeeping
I'm adding a new site today: http://ecozebra.com/ it's an e-zine run by a high-school classmate. We got re-connected by all of you awful people who forced me to join Facebook. Shame on you!
I'm also taking down the Orwell Prize link. I thought it was going to be something it's not. It turns out that George Orwell was just another obsessive English guy, more worried about the weather than writing about his craft. I've had enough of it.
I also updated my background, just because I can.
Bonus office quote of the day:
"Surprise baby shower for Julian? I didn't know he was pregnant!"
I'm also taking down the Orwell Prize link. I thought it was going to be something it's not. It turns out that George Orwell was just another obsessive English guy, more worried about the weather than writing about his craft. I've had enough of it.
I also updated my background, just because I can.
Bonus office quote of the day:
"Surprise baby shower for Julian? I didn't know he was pregnant!"
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Mark the day
There are points in history that mark each generation; events of such magnitude that they become legends passed to the next generation.
We are a story-telling people. From my family history, I can tell you about my ancestress who saw Atlanta burning in the wake of Sherman's armies. I can tell you about the Daisy Bradford oil well, and my great-grandfather who worked it. I can tell you about the great depression. I can tell you about Kennedy being shot in Dallas.
One of my first memories may be a piece of history. I was a little girl, perhaps 2 or 3, and we had driven a long way in my grandparent's motor home. We were on a beach. I remember that they were very excited, and how we set out webbed aluminum folding chairs on the sand. There was an incredible roar - so loud it shook the very air around me, and I clapped my hands over my ears. I was very scared. This fear is probably what sealed the memory in my mind. I remember my mother telling me that it was a rocket. I can't be sure, of course, because everyone who was there is dead now, but it's entirely possible that what I heard was the launch of one of the last Apollo flights, from a beach in Florida.
When I was a junior in high school, our science club gathered in the lab where a giant-screen projection television had been set up. We were excited to watch the launch of the space shuttle, Challenger, since most of our curriculum for that month had been themed to coincide with the first teacher in space. We were watching the launch live.
In 1990, my junior year in college, young men ran up and down the halls of the dormitory whooping and screaming, "They let Mandela go!" the quad turned into an impromptu party. It was the only time in my years there that my rigidly segregated southern college saw white and black students celebrating together, the Alpha Kappa Alphas linked arm and arm with the Kappa Deltas, jumping up and down to the Bob Marley tune someone was playing, speakers propped up in the dorm windows.
In September 2001 I was unemployed. My then-husband called me from work and gravely told me to wake up and watch the news. I saw the second tower get hit. I sat in front of the television, stunned, for hours. I have never been able to watch any of the documentaries. Not even Michael Moore's.
Today, I sat in a folding chair in the largest room in our office, which is our childcare division. J. rolled in a television set and worked the rabbit ears until the picture came in clear.
The camera swept over the scene in front of the White House, I was amazed. I have never seen a crowd that large. People were smiling, happy, cold, and bursting with pride. Barak Obama came to the lectern, raised one hand to the sky, the other on Lincoln's bible, and though both the Justice and the President-Elect stumbled on their words, the oath was made, and he was our44th President.
Today, the first (truly) African-American was sworn in to the Presidency. I celebrated with my co-workers. White and black and brown, gay and straight, college students and VP's, secretaries and executives. We teared up. We clapped. Many echoed, "Amen."
Right here, right now, this is the greatest moment I have been alive to see. I have such great hopes for this President, and my inspiration to make a positive difference in my own community has been strengthened once again. The United States is foundering in a crisis of confidence. We, the people, will be called upon to help right it. It won't be easy, and it won't be pleasant, and we'll have to fight some of our own friends and family to get it done. Anything is possible. We can do anything we set our minds to, if we focus on what we have in common. And we will. Damn right we will.
We are a story-telling people. From my family history, I can tell you about my ancestress who saw Atlanta burning in the wake of Sherman's armies. I can tell you about the Daisy Bradford oil well, and my great-grandfather who worked it. I can tell you about the great depression. I can tell you about Kennedy being shot in Dallas.
One of my first memories may be a piece of history. I was a little girl, perhaps 2 or 3, and we had driven a long way in my grandparent's motor home. We were on a beach. I remember that they were very excited, and how we set out webbed aluminum folding chairs on the sand. There was an incredible roar - so loud it shook the very air around me, and I clapped my hands over my ears. I was very scared. This fear is probably what sealed the memory in my mind. I remember my mother telling me that it was a rocket. I can't be sure, of course, because everyone who was there is dead now, but it's entirely possible that what I heard was the launch of one of the last Apollo flights, from a beach in Florida.
When I was a junior in high school, our science club gathered in the lab where a giant-screen projection television had been set up. We were excited to watch the launch of the space shuttle, Challenger, since most of our curriculum for that month had been themed to coincide with the first teacher in space. We were watching the launch live.
In 1990, my junior year in college, young men ran up and down the halls of the dormitory whooping and screaming, "They let Mandela go!" the quad turned into an impromptu party. It was the only time in my years there that my rigidly segregated southern college saw white and black students celebrating together, the Alpha Kappa Alphas linked arm and arm with the Kappa Deltas, jumping up and down to the Bob Marley tune someone was playing, speakers propped up in the dorm windows.
In September 2001 I was unemployed. My then-husband called me from work and gravely told me to wake up and watch the news. I saw the second tower get hit. I sat in front of the television, stunned, for hours. I have never been able to watch any of the documentaries. Not even Michael Moore's.
Today, I sat in a folding chair in the largest room in our office, which is our childcare division. J. rolled in a television set and worked the rabbit ears until the picture came in clear.
The camera swept over the scene in front of the White House, I was amazed. I have never seen a crowd that large. People were smiling, happy, cold, and bursting with pride. Barak Obama came to the lectern, raised one hand to the sky, the other on Lincoln's bible, and though both the Justice and the President-Elect stumbled on their words, the oath was made, and he was our44th President.
Today, the first (truly) African-American was sworn in to the Presidency. I celebrated with my co-workers. White and black and brown, gay and straight, college students and VP's, secretaries and executives. We teared up. We clapped. Many echoed, "Amen."
Right here, right now, this is the greatest moment I have been alive to see. I have such great hopes for this President, and my inspiration to make a positive difference in my own community has been strengthened once again. The United States is foundering in a crisis of confidence. We, the people, will be called upon to help right it. It won't be easy, and it won't be pleasant, and we'll have to fight some of our own friends and family to get it done. Anything is possible. We can do anything we set our minds to, if we focus on what we have in common. And we will. Damn right we will.
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