Hat tip Adirondack Base Camp.
13 Ekim 2012 Cumartesi
High Fire Alert for Adirondacks, Says NYS DEC
To contact us Click HERE
New York State hasn't seen any rain in several weeks, and therefore everything is bone dry. The New York State Department of Environmental Conservation has issued a High Fire Alert for the Adirondacks. Please read the DEC's webpage on Fire Safety Outdoors. Also, please be aware that it is now illegal to transport firewood in New York State unless it has been treated against pests, and it is illegal to transport untreated firewood less than 50 miles from its source.
Hat tip Adirondack Base Camp.
Hat tip Adirondack Base Camp.
Well That's Nice to Know
To contact us Click HERE
Looks like my photographs of our travels throughout New York State have become quite popular on the Internet. While searching for information about my travel blogs, I found that scads of people search for, visit, and link to some of my photos. The most popular seem to be our visits to historic military sites and my miscellaneous photos of "old stuff" like old books and personalized jewelry boxes.
I used to play "Photo Hunters" on the other travel blog, a fun Internet scavenger hunt game. We were assigned a word and had to post a related photo and description of the photo. Some of my blog traffic comes directly from the game!
I especially liked showing (and viewing) photos of antiques, heirlooms, old toys, personal keepsakes and very old jewelry, etc. Those things are fascinating to me. I like to imagine what life was like way back when, and these "everyday" types of objects seem to tell the story.
I have almost 6,000 photos on my Flickr account now. :|
I used to play "Photo Hunters" on the other travel blog, a fun Internet scavenger hunt game. We were assigned a word and had to post a related photo and description of the photo. Some of my blog traffic comes directly from the game!
I especially liked showing (and viewing) photos of antiques, heirlooms, old toys, personal keepsakes and very old jewelry, etc. Those things are fascinating to me. I like to imagine what life was like way back when, and these "everyday" types of objects seem to tell the story.
I have almost 6,000 photos on my Flickr account now. :|
My Post About the William Seward House
To contact us Click HERE
Part 1 is up about the life of William H. Seward! We visited his Auburn home a few weeks ago. Since that time, I've looked into his history and have learned many amazing and admirable things. I hope you can take a little time to learn about him. After reading about his life, I greatly admire the man.
William Seward House in Auburn, NY
I'll have Parts 2 and 3 of the story later this week and next, too. Enjoy!
William Seward House in Auburn, NY
I'll have Parts 2 and 3 of the story later this week and next, too. Enjoy!
Hacker Gains Entry to Hotel Rooms
To contact us Click HERE
Who comes up with this stuff?!
A hacker is apparently able to enter a locked hotel room without a key. According to Forbes, Mozilla developer Cody Brocius can hack into certain keyless hotel room locks in a matter of minutes:
The hack works only on certain locks made by manufacturer Onity, "whose devices are installed on the doors of between four and five million hotel rooms around the world according to the company’s figures." And the hack isn't always consistent, either. It failed two out of three times on tests.
But STILL.
Read the story, it's very enlightening.
A hacker is apparently able to enter a locked hotel room without a key. According to Forbes, Mozilla developer Cody Brocius can hack into certain keyless hotel room locks in a matter of minutes:
Using an open-source hardware gadget Brocious built for less than $50, he can insert a plug into that DC port and sometimes, albeit unreliably, open the lock in a matter of seconds. “I plug it in, power it up, and the lock opens,” he says simply.
The hack works only on certain locks made by manufacturer Onity, "whose devices are installed on the doors of between four and five million hotel rooms around the world according to the company’s figures." And the hack isn't always consistent, either. It failed two out of three times on tests.
But STILL.
Read the story, it's very enlightening.
I'm Giving Away Free Audio Walking Tours for NYC App
To contact us Click HERE
I recently downloaded and reviewed a new iPhone/Android app called Racontours. It's a really neat app, one of the best travel apps I've seen! The app contains numerous historical walking tours of New York City, loaded with videos, images, and much history.
You can read my review of it here. As part of my enthusiasm, the app developer has given me a coupon code so you can check out the tours, too.
I am giving away some FREE tours for the app this week only. All you have to do is email Oscar at Racontours with the coupon code NEWYORKTRAVELER. Racontours will send you a coupon code for a free tour. Even if you don’t plan on visiting the city, you can still learn a lot. Most tours are very long — it took me several hours to get through a few of them — so they are somewhat like a movie/audio book/video. I especially liked the Central Park, Wall Street, and Old Manhattan tours.
The tours are valued at $10 each, so it's quite a deal. And I'll bet that you learn something new about the history of NYC and our founding fathers!
You can read my review of it here. As part of my enthusiasm, the app developer has given me a coupon code so you can check out the tours, too.
I am giving away some FREE tours for the app this week only. All you have to do is email Oscar at Racontours with the coupon code NEWYORKTRAVELER. Racontours will send you a coupon code for a free tour. Even if you don’t plan on visiting the city, you can still learn a lot. Most tours are very long — it took me several hours to get through a few of them — so they are somewhat like a movie/audio book/video. I especially liked the Central Park, Wall Street, and Old Manhattan tours.
The tours are valued at $10 each, so it's quite a deal. And I'll bet that you learn something new about the history of NYC and our founding fathers!
12 Ekim 2012 Cuma
Justin Bieber vs. Prince William's Hair
To contact us Click HERE
After several weeks away from this blog, I want to thank Justin Bieber for making my return to "Susan Says..." so easy. In fact, I am not even here. This post is writing itself, whistling happily as it works while I have toast with hummus in the kitchen with Buzzy.
Oh, Biebs, you pitiful, talentless, over-promoted little pimple on the ass of the entertainment industry. Your inane comments about Price William's thinning hair have renewed my energy, restored my enthusiasm and, best of all, leave me no choice but to rip you to shreds. After months of leaving you alone, I am freed by your own stupidity.
Ironic, no?
The Biebs, it appears, thinks that the increasingly hairless heir to the British throne should enhance his appearance with the use of the available wonder drugs in the war on baldness. “I don’t know why he doesn’t just get those things, those products. You just take Propecia and your hair grows back. Have you not got it over here?” are his exact words, spoken to the British press.
Has no one told this kid that Prince William will eventually replace his missing hair with a crown? I'm not talking about the cardboard one from Burger King that you like to wear, Justin. I'm talking about a real, freakin' crown. Not to mention, men no longer need hair in order to look good. It's all in the attitude .... just ask Bruce Willis, Michael Jordan, Sean Connery or Jason Stratham.
It is not news that men are as strung out over their appearance and body image as women are. Over the years they've struggled with horrifying toupes, worn uncomfortable lifts in their shoes and even corsets under suit jackets. More recently, they've endured calf implants so they can make a statement ("Look how crazy I am--I had calf implants!!" is typically the statement) at the beach. Lately, however, as armies of unapologetic and freshly waxed and moisturized metrosexuals stride into the spotlight, the quest for male beauty has become public and unabashed.
For Justin to spout off about Prince William's hair loss is not only gleefully moronic but also extremely rude. Did the interviewer suddenly ask him specifically about his feelings regarding the dominant balding gene that runs through the bloodlines of the royal family like the Amazon courses through the jungles of Brazil?
Who brings such a thing up? I hope his parents are embarrassed. I would be.
I doubt the prince would bring up the fact that the Biebster's testicles have not yet properly descended or that, with his current hairstyle, he strongly resembles Eddie Munster.
And yes, the prince is clearly losing his hair and has been for years. It hasn't affected his good looks or lessened the number of young ladies who would love to share his royal chambers. While his younger brother Hairy Harry seems to have been spared the pain of follicular challenges and will definitely enjoy a glamorous life, he is still only the second fiddle...and always will be.
Hopefully the bright future ahead of Prince William will bring him much opportunity to maintain the patina on the monarchy as well as do good around the world...even if Kate does put on her make-up using not a mirror but, instead, the high polish of her husband's head.
Either way, they have it made.
The Biebs, who has not demonstrated a growth spurt in recent months, sings awful songs to little girls who will forget him soon after the next teen phenom surfaces. Prince William has the lovely Kate, a rich grandma and a date with history.
And, when Kate was recently interviewed by the BBC she was asked about her feelings regarding William's approaching baldness. Her response, "Who cares about his hair, silly! He has a huge penis. That's why I married him!"*
"I mean, seriously, have you seen that thing?"
*Okay, okay. So she didn't really say that.
After several weeks away from this blog, I want to thank Justin Bieber for making my return to "Susan Says..." so easy. In fact, I am not even here. This post is writing itself, whistling happily as it works while I have toast with hummus in the kitchen with Buzzy.Oh, Biebs, you pitiful, talentless, over-promoted little pimple on the ass of the entertainment industry. Your inane comments about Price William's thinning hair have renewed my energy, restored my enthusiasm and, best of all, leave me no choice but to rip you to shreds. After months of leaving you alone, I am freed by your own stupidity.
Ironic, no?
The Biebs, it appears, thinks that the increasingly hairless heir to the British throne should enhance his appearance with the use of the available wonder drugs in the war on baldness. “I don’t know why he doesn’t just get those things, those products. You just take Propecia and your hair grows back. Have you not got it over here?” are his exact words, spoken to the British press.
 |
| Oh yeah, I got it. |
 |
| Me, too. |
Has no one told this kid that Prince William will eventually replace his missing hair with a crown? I'm not talking about the cardboard one from Burger King that you like to wear, Justin. I'm talking about a real, freakin' crown. Not to mention, men no longer need hair in order to look good. It's all in the attitude .... just ask Bruce Willis, Michael Jordan, Sean Connery or Jason Stratham.
 |
| Me, three. |
It is not news that men are as strung out over their appearance and body image as women are. Over the years they've struggled with horrifying toupes, worn uncomfortable lifts in their shoes and even corsets under suit jackets. More recently, they've endured calf implants so they can make a statement ("Look how crazy I am--I had calf implants!!" is typically the statement) at the beach. Lately, however, as armies of unapologetic and freshly waxed and moisturized metrosexuals stride into the spotlight, the quest for male beauty has become public and unabashed.
For Justin to spout off about Prince William's hair loss is not only gleefully moronic but also extremely rude. Did the interviewer suddenly ask him specifically about his feelings regarding the dominant balding gene that runs through the bloodlines of the royal family like the Amazon courses through the jungles of Brazil?
Who brings such a thing up? I hope his parents are embarrassed. I would be.
I doubt the prince would bring up the fact that the Biebster's testicles have not yet properly descended or that, with his current hairstyle, he strongly resembles Eddie Munster.And yes, the prince is clearly losing his hair and has been for years. It hasn't affected his good looks or lessened the number of young ladies who would love to share his royal chambers. While his younger brother Hairy Harry seems to have been spared the pain of follicular challenges and will definitely enjoy a glamorous life, he is still only the second fiddle...and always will be.
 |
| I got the hair, bitches. |
Either way, they have it made.
The Biebs, who has not demonstrated a growth spurt in recent months, sings awful songs to little girls who will forget him soon after the next teen phenom surfaces. Prince William has the lovely Kate, a rich grandma and a date with history.
And, when Kate was recently interviewed by the BBC she was asked about her feelings regarding William's approaching baldness. Her response, "Who cares about his hair, silly! He has a huge penis. That's why I married him!"*
"I mean, seriously, have you seen that thing?"*Okay, okay. So she didn't really say that.
Party Animals
To contact us Click HERE
People like to brag about needing to recover from their wild weekends.
Come Monday, they are hung over or exhausted and may enjoy embellishing a story or two about the revelry. This makes them cool, enviable and, in the right circles, can significantly elevate their social status.
Yours truly is no stranger to an occasional wild weekend. Even mild mannered bloggers have been known to get a little crazy.
Take this past weekend, for example.
Here's what would go down at the water cooler come Monday morning (if I were anywhere near a water cooler)....
"Susan Says..." (yawning and snapping the waistband of her elastic pants as she sloshes coffee into a mug with a picture of a kitten sitting under a rainbow): "Oh, man. Another crazy weekend!!!" Whew! Holy cow!"
Impressionable coworker: "Yo, "Susan Says...," you sure look like you par-tayed har-tay. Fill us in!!"
SS: "Ooooooh, baby, I sure did. Last night was unbelievable!"
IC: "Details, please. We know what kind of a life you live, you lucky stiff! Don't hold back..."
SS: "I know you know. One of these days I have got to calm it all down and not be such a wild thing!"
IC: "Yes, INDEED! You are a wild thing!! So, tell us! TELL us!"
SS: "I really pushed the envelope this time! I hope you can handle it...."
IC (guffawing wildly): "Me, too!"
SS: "Well......on Saturday night I stayed up till about eleven playing with the cats and the laser pointer!
IC: "NO!"
SS: "Yes! They went nuts. They couldn't stop chasing that thing. They were spinning and running and leaping. It was FAR-OUT! I even gave them a pinch of catnip!!!!!!"
IC: "GET OUT! I rest my case---you really do know how to live. I gotta take a lesson from you!"
SS: "Hold on to your hat! As if Saturday night wasn't enough, yesterday Seth and I spent most of Sunday sitting around. I read the newspaper and he -- get this! -- took a two hour nap!"
IC: "WHAT? For real??? So he's a real party animal, too!!
SS: "He sure is! And then I made pineapple protein smoothies!"
IC: This just gets better every minute. I am so j-e-a-l-o-u-s! How come some people are just so naturally fun loving, so spontaneous? And the rest of us, well...."
SS: "Don't be jealous, man--join us! Next weekend we're planning a ride where there are usually some nice cows. We might even get to catch a glimpse of two horsies that live nearby."
IC: "REALLY???"
SS: "Then, as if that isn't over the top, there's this guy who sells corn on the side of the road and it's on the honor system! You put money into this little metal box!!!!"
IC: "You have got to be kidding! You'd let me do this with you guys???"
SS: "Of course, happy to help spice up your dull little life! You have to reach for the brass ring, dude! We'll show you how it's done!!
IC: "I will be so totally burned out after all that. I don't know how you're even functioning today. I really don't."
SS: "To be honest, neither do I."
People like to brag about needing to recover from their wild weekends. Come Monday, they are hung over or exhausted and may enjoy embellishing a story or two about the revelry. This makes them cool, enviable and, in the right circles, can significantly elevate their social status.
Yours truly is no stranger to an occasional wild weekend. Even mild mannered bloggers have been known to get a little crazy.
Take this past weekend, for example.
Here's what would go down at the water cooler come Monday morning (if I were anywhere near a water cooler)....
"Susan Says..." (yawning and snapping the waistband of her elastic pants as she sloshes coffee into a mug with a picture of a kitten sitting under a rainbow): "Oh, man. Another crazy weekend!!!" Whew! Holy cow!" Impressionable coworker: "Yo, "Susan Says...," you sure look like you par-tayed har-tay. Fill us in!!"
SS: "Ooooooh, baby, I sure did. Last night was unbelievable!"
IC: "Details, please. We know what kind of a life you live, you lucky stiff! Don't hold back..."
SS: "I know you know. One of these days I have got to calm it all down and not be such a wild thing!"
IC: "Yes, INDEED! You are a wild thing!! So, tell us! TELL us!"
SS: "I really pushed the envelope this time! I hope you can handle it...."
IC (guffawing wildly): "Me, too!"
SS: "Well......on Saturday night I stayed up till about eleven playing with the cats and the laser pointer!
IC: "NO!"
SS: "Yes! They went nuts. They couldn't stop chasing that thing. They were spinning and running and leaping. It was FAR-OUT! I even gave them a pinch of catnip!!!!!!"
IC: "GET OUT! I rest my case---you really do know how to live. I gotta take a lesson from you!"
SS: "Hold on to your hat! As if Saturday night wasn't enough, yesterday Seth and I spent most of Sunday sitting around. I read the newspaper and he -- get this! -- took a two hour nap!"
IC: "WHAT? For real??? So he's a real party animal, too!!
SS: "He sure is! And then I made pineapple protein smoothies!"IC: This just gets better every minute. I am so j-e-a-l-o-u-s! How come some people are just so naturally fun loving, so spontaneous? And the rest of us, well...."
SS: "Don't be jealous, man--join us! Next weekend we're planning a ride where there are usually some nice cows. We might even get to catch a glimpse of two horsies that live nearby."
IC: "REALLY???"
SS: "Then, as if that isn't over the top, there's this guy who sells corn on the side of the road and it's on the honor system! You put money into this little metal box!!!!"
IC: "You have got to be kidding! You'd let me do this with you guys???"
SS: "Of course, happy to help spice up your dull little life! You have to reach for the brass ring, dude! We'll show you how it's done!!
IC: "I will be so totally burned out after all that. I don't know how you're even functioning today. I really don't."
SS: "To be honest, neither do I."
It's National Relaxation Day!
To contact us Click HERE
Today is National Relaxation Day!
I think this should be more than an asterisk on the calendar, don't you?
Why not embrace such a good idea and observe it properly?
First and foremost, National Relaxation Day should be a day off.
Add it to school, bank and post office holidays. Stores, which to my sadness never close anymore to observe anything at all, can sponsor sales if they so choose but mostly let's make it a day where people can sleep late, avoid a commute or have breakfast out with the family.
That's a start.
All news networks, cable and otherwise, should go off the air for 24 hours. Instead of the bad and scary, I suggest images of bunnies and unicorns. Exchange footage of suffering and struggle for lion cubs or a field of sunflowers as their cheerful faces bob in peaceful unison when touched by a passing breeze.
Some channels might air hour upon hour of the ancient "Father Knows Best" or "The Donna Reed Show" because despite the fleeting and superficial anxiety of "Princess" not getting the shoes she wants for the party or an equally bland misunderstanding that causes charming conflict between siblings and spouses, all loose ends are tied up quickly and, after approximately 22 minutes not counting commercials, everyone is beaming again.
All professional sports should be cancelled for the day, most especially any activity by the New York Mets.
In addition to no mail (bills, obnoxious mailers from every imbecile running for anything within 300 miles that make me fret about how many trees were felled in the name of this stupidity, as well as glossy catalogs from whose pages I desire everything but can afford nothing) and no TV news, there should be people stationed every mile on public roads -- both urban and rural -- handing out freshly made S'mores. And corn dogs.
How can one be stressed when eating a S'more? It's impossible. The same goes for a corn dog--holding the stick, navigating the golden crunch of the fried coating, locating the saltiness of the hot dog within....pure relaxation, spicy brown mustard or not.
I advocate that get-togethers, such as those encouraged on Memorial or Labor Day be discouraged. First, because there is simply too much work involved but also because such days commemorate the stressful: Memorial Day means summer is coming and one may not feel ready for public exposure of the spider veins and cellulite that accompany a warm weather wardrobe while Labor Day heralds summer's demise and the inevitability of falling on the ice in your driveway.
So, no parties...people should just drift home -- tummies full, lips greasy -- and recline. Cool damp washcloths can then be applied to foreheads before fading off for the most celebrated method of observing National Relaxation Day---a nap.
I wish you all a relaxing day
"Princess" is in the upper left.
Today is National Relaxation Day!I think this should be more than an asterisk on the calendar, don't you?
Why not embrace such a good idea and observe it properly?
First and foremost, National Relaxation Day should be a day off.
Add it to school, bank and post office holidays. Stores, which to my sadness never close anymore to observe anything at all, can sponsor sales if they so choose but mostly let's make it a day where people can sleep late, avoid a commute or have breakfast out with the family.
That's a start.
All news networks, cable and otherwise, should go off the air for 24 hours. Instead of the bad and scary, I suggest images of bunnies and unicorns. Exchange footage of suffering and struggle for lion cubs or a field of sunflowers as their cheerful faces bob in peaceful unison when touched by a passing breeze.
Some channels might air hour upon hour of the ancient "Father Knows Best" or "The Donna Reed Show" because despite the fleeting and superficial anxiety of "Princess" not getting the shoes she wants for the party or an equally bland misunderstanding that causes charming conflict between siblings and spouses, all loose ends are tied up quickly and, after approximately 22 minutes not counting commercials, everyone is beaming again.
All professional sports should be cancelled for the day, most especially any activity by the New York Mets.
In addition to no mail (bills, obnoxious mailers from every imbecile running for anything within 300 miles that make me fret about how many trees were felled in the name of this stupidity, as well as glossy catalogs from whose pages I desire everything but can afford nothing) and no TV news, there should be people stationed every mile on public roads -- both urban and rural -- handing out freshly made S'mores. And corn dogs.
How can one be stressed when eating a S'more? It's impossible. The same goes for a corn dog--holding the stick, navigating the golden crunch of the fried coating, locating the saltiness of the hot dog within....pure relaxation, spicy brown mustard or not.
I advocate that get-togethers, such as those encouraged on Memorial or Labor Day be discouraged. First, because there is simply too much work involved but also because such days commemorate the stressful: Memorial Day means summer is coming and one may not feel ready for public exposure of the spider veins and cellulite that accompany a warm weather wardrobe while Labor Day heralds summer's demise and the inevitability of falling on the ice in your driveway.
So, no parties...people should just drift home -- tummies full, lips greasy -- and recline. Cool damp washcloths can then be applied to foreheads before fading off for the most celebrated method of observing National Relaxation Day---a nap.
I wish you all a relaxing day
"Princess" is in the upper left. Easy to be Easy
To contact us Click HERE
I have always been easy.
Nope, not that kind of easy. In fact, the suit of armor I wore during my dating years was recently installed in the Smithsonian's new "Inhibited, Uptight and,Yet, Cantankerous" wing.
I, however, am referring to alcohol and medication.
If you've ever been seated near me at a wedding or at dinner, you will note that I become a total dope after little more than a sip of champagne or gulp of wine. I feel it enter my system immediately where it first takes up residence in my upper arms or collarbone region and then hits me smack in the brain where it causes all sorts of mischief (and embarrassment for Seth).
When it comes to over the counter sleep aids, I must halve or quarter them or I will fall into a coma that can last upwards of 15 hours. And, if I should have reason to take a percoset, I am as stoned and warmly hallucinatory as any zoned-out subject in Dr. Timothy Leary's LSD experiments back in the 1960's.
This degree of susceptibility to drink or drugs is usually associated with people of a delicate size and shape yet the only time the word "delicate" has been applied to me is when referring to my grasp on reality.
It is what it is and I have learned to adapt. But I was very easy yesterday, too...only this time in a different capacity.
I'd been feeling kind of glum...not sure if I was coming down with something, I felt lethargic and tired and spent the day dragging my feet between chores and thinking dark thoughts.
About a half hour before sunset, I shuffled past a window and noticed that the mantle of grey which had hung damply over the day had lifted.
In its place was an aqua sky and a few clouds whose linings had been pierced by long reflective rays of silver, peach and gold.
It certainly wasn't the most beautiful sunset I've enjoyed through that window. In fact, it was a very modest attempt on the part of Mother Nature to show us what she's got, but it was all I needed.
My spirits rose immediately. My heart lifted, my mood turned and all those dark thoughts were replaced by a feeling of pleasant optimism.
Yes, some might call this being a wee bit bi-polar. Nonsense. I call it another manifestation of being easy....easy to get tipsy, easy to get sleepy, easy to be cheered by some pretty clouds and blue skies.
I'm still feeling good today. I hope you are, too.
I have always been easy.Nope, not that kind of easy. In fact, the suit of armor I wore during my dating years was recently installed in the Smithsonian's new "Inhibited, Uptight and,Yet, Cantankerous" wing.
I, however, am referring to alcohol and medication.
If you've ever been seated near me at a wedding or at dinner, you will note that I become a total dope after little more than a sip of champagne or gulp of wine. I feel it enter my system immediately where it first takes up residence in my upper arms or collarbone region and then hits me smack in the brain where it causes all sorts of mischief (and embarrassment for Seth).
When it comes to over the counter sleep aids, I must halve or quarter them or I will fall into a coma that can last upwards of 15 hours. And, if I should have reason to take a percoset, I am as stoned and warmly hallucinatory as any zoned-out subject in Dr. Timothy Leary's LSD experiments back in the 1960's.
 |
| Dr. Leary and his infamous quote. |
This degree of susceptibility to drink or drugs is usually associated with people of a delicate size and shape yet the only time the word "delicate" has been applied to me is when referring to my grasp on reality.
It is what it is and I have learned to adapt. But I was very easy yesterday, too...only this time in a different capacity.
I'd been feeling kind of glum...not sure if I was coming down with something, I felt lethargic and tired and spent the day dragging my feet between chores and thinking dark thoughts.
About a half hour before sunset, I shuffled past a window and noticed that the mantle of grey which had hung damply over the day had lifted.
In its place was an aqua sky and a few clouds whose linings had been pierced by long reflective rays of silver, peach and gold.
It certainly wasn't the most beautiful sunset I've enjoyed through that window. In fact, it was a very modest attempt on the part of Mother Nature to show us what she's got, but it was all I needed.
My spirits rose immediately. My heart lifted, my mood turned and all those dark thoughts were replaced by a feeling of pleasant optimism.
Yes, some might call this being a wee bit bi-polar. Nonsense. I call it another manifestation of being easy....easy to get tipsy, easy to get sleepy, easy to be cheered by some pretty clouds and blue skies.
I'm still feeling good today. I hope you are, too.
Who's Calling?
To contact us Click HERE
Today while slicing up the last delicious cantalope of the year, the phone rang. Seth, who recently went out for a haircut is expecting an important call so I reflexively pivoted to face the phone, dropping my knife which fell, blade side down -- of course -- on my bare instep, slicing it open.
Still determined to answer the phone, I got close enough to read the caller ID which had a number I didn't recognize so I picked up the receiver.
But first I tripped on Buzzy who was winding around my legs.
Despite the chaos, I chirp a pleasant "Hello?" only to hear the low rumble of what we all recognize as a room full of desperate (I am not without pity) telemarketers. I mange to be polite as I inform my caller, who has asked for Seth, that while he isn't home, I would be pleased to take a message.
"No, thankyou," says she. This is just a courtesy call." She clicked off before I could shriek, now aware that I am standing in my own blood, "Well, I don't find it courteous at all!!!
On that note, here is a post from the ancient days of this blog, written immediately after Election Day, 2010, that is very appropriate in view of phone calls such as these as well as the barrage of political calls, polls and surveys that many of us have ben receiving in preparation for the approaching election...
Recent Scenario: After tidying my home, starting a load of laundry and vigorously petting the cats, I sit--with the lunch I’ve prepared--by the window to soak up some sunlight and relax for a few minutes. Cat Numero Uno curls up across my knees. Numero Dos settles by my side while I balance my veggie burger on the arm of the sofa, placing my iced tea on the window sill. I note, with fleeting concern, that I’ve forgotten to locate the portable phone. Then the phone rings.
Since it could be one of the boys needing advice (Can I wear this shirt with these pants? How much do I tip at a buffet? What is the meaning of life?), I pull myself to my feet, dispersing the cats—one of whom knocks my veggie burger to the floor.
The sound of shattering crockery alarms the other cat who leaps to the ceiling, up-ending the iced tea which then soaks my newspaper.
I stagger to the phone, my lips already forming the pearls of wisdom I will dispense, but, upon lifting the receiver, hear only, “Hi, this is Linda McMahon….” Or, “This is—insert the name of one of a dozen candidates who’ve been bombarding my home recently with obnoxious recorded messages. Or it’s their wife, child, left ass-cheek, pet or transsexual lover who wants, in additional recorded messages, to tell me why their daddy, mommy, wife, husband, etc. is the perfect choice for the job.
Unfortunately, there’s no one at the other end at whom to howl obscenities. So, I shriek them into the unresponsive receiver, impressing none but the cats (who’ve heard it all before) with my dazzling, yet disappointingly unmarketable, natural ability to string naughty words into extremely complex sentences.
Don’t these politicians see that this harassment isn’t an effective way to commandeer votes or rally a constituency? At least, not in my opinion, it isn’t. I’ve long treasured the privilege of voting but was so disgusted with these calls (plus the relentless negative ads on television combined with a scarcity of decent choices) that, this year, I considered getting a pedicure instead of casting a ballot.
Not to mention, I miss the old voting machines. I don’t trust the new ones. How could it not matter whether we insert our ballots face up or down? I think the new machines might actually be shredders. Right, Bridgeport?
I read that Linda McMahon’s campaign made 400,000 phone calls during the weeks preceding the election. I seriously think she made them all to my house. When I heard the staggering amount she spent (45 million American dollars) on her campaign, I had to lie down with a cool rag across my face and a bag of peanut M&Ms by my side.
The election is over but I’m still receiving calls. Now, mostly, from gutter installers, chimney cleaners and dozens of charities and organizations who think nothing of calling on a Sunday morning at 8:30 or a Friday evening after nine. I struggle to keep my head from exploding as I respond politely. After all, these are people trying to earn a living.
If my hormone levels are in flux or I’ve been rudely awakened, I’ve been known to behave less cordially. Afterward, I worry that, with the click of a mouse, a caller seeking revenge and possessing computer skills could skew my credit rating or place me on the no-fly list, so I try to control my ire. It does seem, however, that since I signed up with the “Do Not Call” registry I’ve been receiving more calls instead of fewer. Perhaps, I accidentally added myself to the “Please—I beg you!!—Call Me” list in a moment of delirium.
So, if any telemarketers, candidates, or pollsters are listening, I don’t want to hear why you’re right for the job, change my cable company or donate money. I want my phone time reserved for chatting with family and friends, ordering pizza or directing the confused driver of the Publishers Clearing House Prize Patrol van to my door. Other than that, consider me unlisted.
Today while slicing up the last delicious cantalope of the year, the phone rang. Seth, who recently went out for a haircut is expecting an important call so I reflexively pivoted to face the phone, dropping my knife which fell, blade side down -- of course -- on my bare instep, slicing it open.Still determined to answer the phone, I got close enough to read the caller ID which had a number I didn't recognize so I picked up the receiver.
But first I tripped on Buzzy who was winding around my legs.
Despite the chaos, I chirp a pleasant "Hello?" only to hear the low rumble of what we all recognize as a room full of desperate (I am not without pity) telemarketers. I mange to be polite as I inform my caller, who has asked for Seth, that while he isn't home, I would be pleased to take a message.
"No, thankyou," says she. This is just a courtesy call." She clicked off before I could shriek, now aware that I am standing in my own blood, "Well, I don't find it courteous at all!!!
On that note, here is a post from the ancient days of this blog, written immediately after Election Day, 2010, that is very appropriate in view of phone calls such as these as well as the barrage of political calls, polls and surveys that many of us have ben receiving in preparation for the approaching election...
Recent Scenario: After tidying my home, starting a load of laundry and vigorously petting the cats, I sit--with the lunch I’ve prepared--by the window to soak up some sunlight and relax for a few minutes. Cat Numero Uno curls up across my knees. Numero Dos settles by my side while I balance my veggie burger on the arm of the sofa, placing my iced tea on the window sill. I note, with fleeting concern, that I’ve forgotten to locate the portable phone. Then the phone rings.Since it could be one of the boys needing advice (Can I wear this shirt with these pants? How much do I tip at a buffet? What is the meaning of life?), I pull myself to my feet, dispersing the cats—one of whom knocks my veggie burger to the floor.
The sound of shattering crockery alarms the other cat who leaps to the ceiling, up-ending the iced tea which then soaks my newspaper. I stagger to the phone, my lips already forming the pearls of wisdom I will dispense, but, upon lifting the receiver, hear only, “Hi, this is Linda McMahon….” Or, “This is—insert the name of one of a dozen candidates who’ve been bombarding my home recently with obnoxious recorded messages. Or it’s their wife, child, left ass-cheek, pet or transsexual lover who wants, in additional recorded messages, to tell me why their daddy, mommy, wife, husband, etc. is the perfect choice for the job.
Unfortunately, there’s no one at the other end at whom to howl obscenities. So, I shriek them into the unresponsive receiver, impressing none but the cats (who’ve heard it all before) with my dazzling, yet disappointingly unmarketable, natural ability to string naughty words into extremely complex sentences.
Don’t these politicians see that this harassment isn’t an effective way to commandeer votes or rally a constituency? At least, not in my opinion, it isn’t. I’ve long treasured the privilege of voting but was so disgusted with these calls (plus the relentless negative ads on television combined with a scarcity of decent choices) that, this year, I considered getting a pedicure instead of casting a ballot.
Not to mention, I miss the old voting machines. I don’t trust the new ones. How could it not matter whether we insert our ballots face up or down? I think the new machines might actually be shredders. Right, Bridgeport?
I read that Linda McMahon’s campaign made 400,000 phone calls during the weeks preceding the election. I seriously think she made them all to my house. When I heard the staggering amount she spent (45 million American dollars) on her campaign, I had to lie down with a cool rag across my face and a bag of peanut M&Ms by my side.
The election is over but I’m still receiving calls. Now, mostly, from gutter installers, chimney cleaners and dozens of charities and organizations who think nothing of calling on a Sunday morning at 8:30 or a Friday evening after nine. I struggle to keep my head from exploding as I respond politely. After all, these are people trying to earn a living.
If my hormone levels are in flux or I’ve been rudely awakened, I’ve been known to behave less cordially. Afterward, I worry that, with the click of a mouse, a caller seeking revenge and possessing computer skills could skew my credit rating or place me on the no-fly list, so I try to control my ire. It does seem, however, that since I signed up with the “Do Not Call” registry I’ve been receiving more calls instead of fewer. Perhaps, I accidentally added myself to the “Please—I beg you!!—Call Me” list in a moment of delirium.
So, if any telemarketers, candidates, or pollsters are listening, I don’t want to hear why you’re right for the job, change my cable company or donate money. I want my phone time reserved for chatting with family and friends, ordering pizza or directing the confused driver of the Publishers Clearing House Prize Patrol van to my door. Other than that, consider me unlisted.
 |
| If he calls, I'll talk to him. |
11 Ekim 2012 Perşembe
My favourite things - the lemonade stand
To contact us Click HERE
1. The "pop up shop" at Seddon train station. It popped up this morning and was still there four hours later when I returned from the city. The proprietors are two bold, blond-headed eight-year-old boys and they have a cunning entrepreneurial spirit. This morning as I walked to the station, the one with the curls approached me and offered to sell me some flowers. They had a tartan rug and all the flowers were beautifully laid out. I explained about my hayfever and said that I couldn't buy flowers because of it, but I wished them well. I asked him how it was going and he said "okay" and that they'd had donations from a couple of people. He looked at me meaningfully with a maturely cocked eyebrow. I decided not to make a donation; these boys looked like they were serious about business.
When I returned in the afternoon, they had diversified. They were now offering home made lemonade for $1 a cup. I asked who made it. Ethan had. I asked if it was good.
"It's very good," he said solemnly. There was pulp floating in it so it looked real. I had a momentary worry about washing up and who else had used the cup, but decided I would be okay.
The boys engaged in entertaining banter while I sipped my lemonade. An old man made his way from across the street to enquire about the price of a cup of lemonade. He decided $1 was a good price but shook his head when a cup was proffered at half mast. "If I'm paying a dollar, I want a full cup," he said. These boys showed excellent customer service instincts, apologising immediately and happily rectifying the error.
I noticed some small bunches of lavender were still available.
"How much is your lavender?"
"It's a dollar. We've got the English or the French. The French is a smaller bunch 'cos the flowers are bigger, but the English smells better, I reckon," one of them said earnestly.
He displayed the two options and asked me which I would like.
"I'll take one bunch of the English please."
"An excellent choice," he said as he took my dollar.
I asked how business was. They said it was pretty good and that they had made $60 for the day.
"What are your expansion plans?" I asked.
"Well we're getting ready for peak hour."
"What do you think about your shop location for peak hour?"
"Yeah, we've been thinking about that. What do you think?"
I made a couple of suggestions, including staying right where they were until they had seen the pattern of foot traffic coming off the first couple of peak hour services. They thought this was a good idea and advised they would consider it.
I wished them all the best and thanked them for the lemonade and the lavender.
I was going to ask them if I could take a photo of them and their shop, but felt it freak them out. Here's a picture of the lavender instead.
2. I discovered a precinct in Melbourne Central that I hadn't visited before. It's a new food court and shopping area which is cleverly decorated and has better than the usual foodcourt suspects. I enjoyed a Mexican quesadilla from one of the zillion Mexican joints springing up and also had a coffee and cake for afternoon tea after some wandering around with my camera.
This place has a wonderfully coherent and pleasing design theme. The pale green (shown in the saucer above) shows up in a few places.
I gazed at this still life arrangement as I enjoyed my afternoon tea. You can see the same green in the handle of the egg beater.
The chairs were funky too.
3. There's a little library in this part of the world! A cool idea in the middle of a retail area frequented by students. Its philosophy is written on the window and I'm inspired to drop of some books when I'm next in the neighbourhood.
4. The shot tower at Melbourne Central. This has to be one of the cleverest renovations/preservations around. Who ever is in charge of the centre deserves congratulating. There are lots of delightful details.
5. The prose in Nick Cave's first novel, "And the Ass saw the Angel". It's incredible: dense, rich and requiring gorging. I'm very grateful for the built-in dictionary in my e-reader too. Here are a couple of my favourite passages. Not for the fainthearted:
"Mummy was a swine - a scum-cunted, likkered-up, brain-sick swine. She was lazy and slothful and dirty and belligerent and altogether evil. Ma was a soak - a drunk - a piss-eyed hell-bag with a taste for the homebrew." (page 26).
"Finding Toad covered in pig-shit and sucking a trotter, they had chased him out of the Morton's valley to roam the gullies and gulches of the out-hills, a sore Goliath shunned by his own blood, without friend or companion save the league of demons that rubbed and itched amongst the crags and sunless cracks of his bad, mad and unholy brain." (page 34)
"His demented eyes egged in their orbits as if they were being laid." (page 56)
What are your favourite things this week? Have you ever run a lemonade stand?
When I returned in the afternoon, they had diversified. They were now offering home made lemonade for $1 a cup. I asked who made it. Ethan had. I asked if it was good.
"It's very good," he said solemnly. There was pulp floating in it so it looked real. I had a momentary worry about washing up and who else had used the cup, but decided I would be okay.
The boys engaged in entertaining banter while I sipped my lemonade. An old man made his way from across the street to enquire about the price of a cup of lemonade. He decided $1 was a good price but shook his head when a cup was proffered at half mast. "If I'm paying a dollar, I want a full cup," he said. These boys showed excellent customer service instincts, apologising immediately and happily rectifying the error.
I noticed some small bunches of lavender were still available.
"How much is your lavender?"
"It's a dollar. We've got the English or the French. The French is a smaller bunch 'cos the flowers are bigger, but the English smells better, I reckon," one of them said earnestly.
He displayed the two options and asked me which I would like.
"I'll take one bunch of the English please."
"An excellent choice," he said as he took my dollar.
I asked how business was. They said it was pretty good and that they had made $60 for the day.
"What are your expansion plans?" I asked.
"Well we're getting ready for peak hour."
"What do you think about your shop location for peak hour?"
"Yeah, we've been thinking about that. What do you think?"
I made a couple of suggestions, including staying right where they were until they had seen the pattern of foot traffic coming off the first couple of peak hour services. They thought this was a good idea and advised they would consider it.
I wished them all the best and thanked them for the lemonade and the lavender.
I was going to ask them if I could take a photo of them and their shop, but felt it freak them out. Here's a picture of the lavender instead.
 |
| (c) divacultura 2012 |
2. I discovered a precinct in Melbourne Central that I hadn't visited before. It's a new food court and shopping area which is cleverly decorated and has better than the usual foodcourt suspects. I enjoyed a Mexican quesadilla from one of the zillion Mexican joints springing up and also had a coffee and cake for afternoon tea after some wandering around with my camera.
 |
| Coffee and cake at Cupcake Central (c) divacultura 2012 |
 |
| The tiles (c) divacultura 2012 |
 |
| Still life with cupcakes (c) divacultura 2012 |
 |
| Geometrix (c) divacultura 2012 |
3. There's a little library in this part of the world! A cool idea in the middle of a retail area frequented by students. Its philosophy is written on the window and I'm inspired to drop of some books when I'm next in the neighbourhood.
 |
| Little Library rules (c) divacultura 2012 |
4. The shot tower at Melbourne Central. This has to be one of the cleverest renovations/preservations around. Who ever is in charge of the centre deserves congratulating. There are lots of delightful details.
 |
| Giant white chandeliers, reimagined (c) divacultura 2012 |
 |
| Mezzanine chairs (c) divacultura 2012 |
 |
| Shot tower shadows and living wall (c) divacultura 2012 |
 |
| Shot tower I (c) divacultura 2012 |
 |
| Shot tower II (c) divacultura 2012 |
5. The prose in Nick Cave's first novel, "And the Ass saw the Angel". It's incredible: dense, rich and requiring gorging. I'm very grateful for the built-in dictionary in my e-reader too. Here are a couple of my favourite passages. Not for the fainthearted:
"Mummy was a swine - a scum-cunted, likkered-up, brain-sick swine. She was lazy and slothful and dirty and belligerent and altogether evil. Ma was a soak - a drunk - a piss-eyed hell-bag with a taste for the homebrew." (page 26).
"Finding Toad covered in pig-shit and sucking a trotter, they had chased him out of the Morton's valley to roam the gullies and gulches of the out-hills, a sore Goliath shunned by his own blood, without friend or companion save the league of demons that rubbed and itched amongst the crags and sunless cracks of his bad, mad and unholy brain." (page 34)
"His demented eyes egged in their orbits as if they were being laid." (page 56)
What are your favourite things this week? Have you ever run a lemonade stand?
Kaydol:
Kayıtlar (Atom)