I spent the better part of the day, yesterday, working to put together the small quarterly newsletter for our local lake association. This involved many phone calls back and forth with the president of the group as we struggled with the content in a desperate effort to keep the peace or, at the very least, not inflame an already-volatile atmosphere in our community.
I still have some blanks to fill, but even with those additions this newsletter is going to be a full two pages smaller than our usual mailing. Additionally, it will probably arrive in everyone's mail boxes two days late (partly because the first of the month falls on Sunday).
I have to tell you, our hearts have not been in the project this month. It's almost impossible to know what to write (of any substantive value) that won't manage to tick someone off. Even when you neglect to cover the more controversial topics, you make people angry. But, honestly, we'd need to write a book, a tome of epic proportions, in order to get everyone's point of view expressed to their satisfaction, and even if they were finally satisfied, the other side would feel we devoted too much content to the opposing POV.
Frankly, it's a no-win situation. We feel bound and gagged as we skirt the fire on our tippy-toes. I'm not certain what the answer is. We're doing the best we can, although we know it'll never be "right" in someone's opinion. In fact, we're so discouraged, we even discussed the option of cancelling this issue of the newsletter altogether.
I'm sorry if this entry seems a little ambiguous; I'm just venting a little of the frustration we've been feeling as we struggle to move forward through a landscape riddled with booby traps.
And we're the boobies.
— Gee Vee
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Locating An Iridium Flare
In the comments with my post about Comet Lulin the other day, I mentioned how much I enjoy tracking Iridium flares. Usually, this is something we do in the summer while we're out camping near the lake, where we have an unobstructed view of the night sky.
An Iridium flare is caused by the sun being reflected from one of the three main mission antennae (MMA) of an Iridium satellite. The MMAs are flat, highly polished aluminium surfaces, and when the angles are just right, they can reflect the sun just like a mirror. There are over 80 of these communications satellites in orbit, and they are operated by the Iridium LLC Consortium. An Iridium satellite made the headlines recently when it collided with a spent Russian satellite at an altitude of 490 miles above the Earth.
Here's a short video that illustrates how the Iridium satellite network is used to place a phone call.
Iridium flares are generally seen shortly before sunrise or soon after the sun sets, although some flares are intense enough to be seen during the day. I registered with Heavens Above, (it's free) where they use a special program to plot my location and predict when a flare should be visible. Here's an example of a flare that I would have been able to see this morning, weather permitting.
This particular flare would have been a nice one to view. It begins at a low magnitude of brightness, -1, and as you track it across the sky, it would suddenly flare to magnitude -8 in intensity. Magnitudes of brightness are kinda counter-intuitive. The larger the negative number, the brighter the object should be. Don't ask me why that is. I think scientists just like to be contrary that way. Probably because it drives engineers crazy.
Anyway, I keep a small pocket compass right in the camper. Using my rudimentary Girl Scout skills, I locate the azimuth, in this case, 194° (SSW) using my compass and then guess-timate the altitude. If my horizon line is 0° and some imaginary point right over the top of my head is 90°, mid-way between those two points would be 45°. This particular flare is at 42°, almost halfway between the horizon and directly overhead. This illustration from the Heavens Above website may also help explain the process.
Credit: Heavens Above
So, gather your data from their website in advance, then the next time you're out tossing back a few brewskies around the campfire, amaze and mystify your friends. They'll think you're a magician... umm, or possibly the biggest geek they've ever met. But, hey, it's all fun and a great learning activity to share with children.
Here's a video of an Iridium satellite as its path crosses the face of the moon and then flares brightly.
I should point out that not all flares will be that dramatic, in fact, many can be downright disappointing. Don't give up. When you least expect it, you'll suddenly experience a flare so stunning, it will absolutely take your breath away. BTW, I've yet to locate an illusive daytime flare, but I'll keep trying.
— Gee Vee
An Iridium flare is caused by the sun being reflected from one of the three main mission antennae (MMA) of an Iridium satellite. The MMAs are flat, highly polished aluminium surfaces, and when the angles are just right, they can reflect the sun just like a mirror. There are over 80 of these communications satellites in orbit, and they are operated by the Iridium LLC Consortium. An Iridium satellite made the headlines recently when it collided with a spent Russian satellite at an altitude of 490 miles above the Earth.
Here's a short video that illustrates how the Iridium satellite network is used to place a phone call.
Iridium flares are generally seen shortly before sunrise or soon after the sun sets, although some flares are intense enough to be seen during the day. I registered with Heavens Above, (it's free) where they use a special program to plot my location and predict when a flare should be visible. Here's an example of a flare that I would have been able to see this morning, weather permitting.
This particular flare would have been a nice one to view. It begins at a low magnitude of brightness, -1, and as you track it across the sky, it would suddenly flare to magnitude -8 in intensity. Magnitudes of brightness are kinda counter-intuitive. The larger the negative number, the brighter the object should be. Don't ask me why that is. I think scientists just like to be contrary that way. Probably because it drives engineers crazy.
Anyway, I keep a small pocket compass right in the camper. Using my rudimentary Girl Scout skills, I locate the azimuth, in this case, 194° (SSW) using my compass and then guess-timate the altitude. If my horizon line is 0° and some imaginary point right over the top of my head is 90°, mid-way between those two points would be 45°. This particular flare is at 42°, almost halfway between the horizon and directly overhead. This illustration from the Heavens Above website may also help explain the process.
So, gather your data from their website in advance, then the next time you're out tossing back a few brewskies around the campfire, amaze and mystify your friends. They'll think you're a magician... umm, or possibly the biggest geek they've ever met. But, hey, it's all fun and a great learning activity to share with children.
Here's a video of an Iridium satellite as its path crosses the face of the moon and then flares brightly.
I should point out that not all flares will be that dramatic, in fact, many can be downright disappointing. Don't give up. When you least expect it, you'll suddenly experience a flare so stunning, it will absolutely take your breath away. BTW, I've yet to locate an illusive daytime flare, but I'll keep trying.
— Gee Vee
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The Lights
I used to marvel at the science behind the aurora, run inside and turn to 10 or 11 meters on my rig then listen, mesmerized, as the "skip" took on a haunting quality. The radio waves vibrating over the northern lights in the ionosphere created a picket fence effect that brought in other-worldly conversations from locations I might never reach under normal means of propagation. I was so fascinated by the phenomenon, I rarely paused to admire the stunning ethereal beauty dancing overhead.
But, I was young and thought I was so smart.
Now I only admire their beauty.
— Gee Vee
You Could've Fooled Me!
I've always been fascinated by the art of trompe-l'oeil, the ability to create an illusion of depth on a flat surface. Ironically, I found a couple examples in completely unrelated articles in this morning's news.
Edgar Müller Streetscapes
Photo Credits: Getty
You know, those are so realistic, I think my vertigo would be severely tested just trying to cross the street. I'm not sure if I could do it while looking down.
Finally, in what Dan may argue is the best painting job in the world, "Mr Lucky", Betto Almeida, earns $2000 a day painting the beautiful nude bodies of Rio's Carnival.
Photo Credit: Silvia Izquierdo/AP
(Hey, Dan, I read that he's been so busy, he's looking for an assistant!)
— Gee Vee
You know, those are so realistic, I think my vertigo would be severely tested just trying to cross the street. I'm not sure if I could do it while looking down.
Finally, in what Dan may argue is the best painting job in the world, "Mr Lucky", Betto Almeida, earns $2000 a day painting the beautiful nude bodies of Rio's Carnival.
(Hey, Dan, I read that he's been so busy, he's looking for an assistant!)
— Gee Vee
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
ninety-eight, ninety-nine, ONE HUNDRED!
Today I am marking a small milestone as I publish this, my 100th entry with Grandiose Verbosity.
Over the past few years, I have probably passed many such milestones without comment, first with my original MySpace blog and later with Aunt Robin's Story Hour (Chapter 1). However, since I figure I'm long overdue to give myself a small pat on the back, I'll do a bit of celebrating today.
Traditionally, bloggers recognize their 100th post with a "One Hundred Things About Me" extravaganza. While that option may give me something to write about for the NEXT one hundred entries, believe me, you'd be bored to tears. I'm just not that interesting.
So, I'd like to change-up the routine a little. Now, don't get nervous, boys and girls. I'm not going to sing for you because that would be too painful for everyone involved. Instead, I'm going to indulge in a little audience participation event.
On the right-hand side of this page, you'll find my blog archive. Clicking on the small triangles will reveal the previous entries, month by month. I invite you to go back through those posts then I would love for you to let me know which ones you enjoyed reading and why. Don't forget to click on the "comments" link to some of the entries. I think the comments we have shared are often the most entertaining part of the post. If you've been following me for a long time and would like to reminisce a bit, let me know which entries or topics you've enjoyed from my previous blogging efforts on MySpace or Aunt Robin's Story Hour.
While I'm not promisin' anything, your feedback could be important because it may help guide my future efforts.
So think about it for a while then click on the "comments" link you can find at the bottom of this post. I'd love to hear from you, particularly if you've been reading for a while and have never commented in the past. (Mom, this means you, too, you naughty little lurker, you!)
Remember, be sure to check back later to see what others have had to say.
— Gee Vee
Over the past few years, I have probably passed many such milestones without comment, first with my original MySpace blog and later with Aunt Robin's Story Hour (Chapter 1). However, since I figure I'm long overdue to give myself a small pat on the back, I'll do a bit of celebrating today.
Traditionally, bloggers recognize their 100th post with a "One Hundred Things About Me" extravaganza. While that option may give me something to write about for the NEXT one hundred entries, believe me, you'd be bored to tears. I'm just not that interesting.
So, I'd like to change-up the routine a little. Now, don't get nervous, boys and girls. I'm not going to sing for you because that would be too painful for everyone involved. Instead, I'm going to indulge in a little audience participation event.
On the right-hand side of this page, you'll find my blog archive. Clicking on the small triangles will reveal the previous entries, month by month. I invite you to go back through those posts then I would love for you to let me know which ones you enjoyed reading and why. Don't forget to click on the "comments" link to some of the entries. I think the comments we have shared are often the most entertaining part of the post. If you've been following me for a long time and would like to reminisce a bit, let me know which entries or topics you've enjoyed from my previous blogging efforts on MySpace or Aunt Robin's Story Hour.
While I'm not promisin' anything, your feedback could be important because it may help guide my future efforts.
So think about it for a while then click on the "comments" link you can find at the bottom of this post. I'd love to hear from you, particularly if you've been reading for a while and have never commented in the past. (Mom, this means you, too, you naughty little lurker, you!)
Remember, be sure to check back later to see what others have had to say.
— Gee Vee
Monday, February 23, 2009
Last Minute Comet Lulin News
Update: Since I published this entry, the Comet Lulin website appears to have crashed (possibly from too many users?). However, keep trying. They may work out their technical difficulties.
======================
I've just stumbled across a neat feature on the Coca-Cola Space Science Center Website. Tonight they will be hosting a live webcast of Comet Lulin which will automatically refresh every fifteen seconds throughout the night.
It's a great resource for locations that may be experiencing cloudy weather (or if you're just not excited about standing outside in sub-freezing temps! Brrrr!) The webcast will be going live tonight from 11 PM EST until 5 AM EST.
Check it out!
— Gee Vee
I've just stumbled across a neat feature on the Coca-Cola Space Science Center Website. Tonight they will be hosting a live webcast of Comet Lulin which will automatically refresh every fifteen seconds throughout the night.
It's a great resource for locations that may be experiencing cloudy weather (or if you're just not excited about standing outside in sub-freezing temps! Brrrr!) The webcast will be going live tonight from 11 PM EST until 5 AM EST.
Check it out!
— Gee Vee
Tragic News
In the opening paragraph of my entry on Sunday morning, I mentioned our decision to stay home rather than drive up north given the terrible whiteout conditions on the Straits of Mackinac.
This morning I was stunned and saddened to learn that an Islander lost his life, Saturday, while riding his snowmobile across the ice bridge on the Straits between St. Ignace and Mackinac Island. Out of respect and sympathy for our friends and his family, I'm not going to write about any details here, except to say he apparently lost his bearings in the storm.
It's a tragic loss that will be felt by communities on both sides of the Straits. It is also a harsh reminder that when we take our winter weather for granted, we may do so at our own peril.
— Gee Vee
This morning I was stunned and saddened to learn that an Islander lost his life, Saturday, while riding his snowmobile across the ice bridge on the Straits between St. Ignace and Mackinac Island. Out of respect and sympathy for our friends and his family, I'm not going to write about any details here, except to say he apparently lost his bearings in the storm.
It's a tragic loss that will be felt by communities on both sides of the Straits. It is also a harsh reminder that when we take our winter weather for granted, we may do so at our own peril.
— Gee Vee
Comet Lulin
As Comet Lulin prepares to make its closest approach to Earth on February 24, I thought I'd share an excerpt from an email I received from the North Star Astronomical Society earlier this month:
Comet Lulin in the predawn sky on Feb. 24, 2009, looking southwest. Photo Credit: NASA
Dust off your binoculars and get out there, sleepy head!
— Gee Vee
Comet Lulin is now a naked eye morning object near Libra headed toward Virgo. The comet makes its closest approach to Earth (0.41 AU) on Feb. 24, 2009. Current estimates peg the maximum brightness at 4th or 5th magnitude, which means dark country skies would be required to see it. No one can say for sure, however, because this appears to be Lulin's first visit to the inner solar system and its first exposure to intense sunlight. Surprises are possible.
Lulin's green color comes from the gases that make up its Jupiter-sized atmosphere. Jets spewing from the comet's nucleus contain cyanogen (CN: a poisonous gas found in many comets) and diatomic carbon (C2). Both substances glow green when illuminated by sunlight in the near-vacuum of space.
To see Comet Lulin with your own eyes, set your alarm for 3 am. The comet rises a few hours before the sun and may be found about 1/3rd of the way up the southern sky before dawn. Here are some dates when it is especially easy to find:
Feb. 6th: Comet Lulin glides by Zubenelgenubi, a double star at the fulcrum of Libra's scales. Zubenelgenubi is not only fun to say (zuBEN-el-JA- newbee), but also a handy guide. You can see Zubenelgenubi with your unaided eye (it is about as bright as stars in the Big Dipper); binoculars pointed at the binary star reveal Comet Lulin in beautiful proximity.
Feb. 16th: Comet Lulin passes Spica in the constellation Virgo. Spica is a star of first magnitude and a guidepost even city astronomers cannot miss. A finderscope pointed at Spica will capture Comet Lulin in the field of view, centering the optics within a nudge of both objects.
Feb. 24th: Closest approach! On this special morning, Lulin will lie just a few degrees from Saturn in the constellation Leo. Saturn is obvious to the unaided eye, and Lulin could be as well. If this doesn't draw you out of bed, nothing will.
Dust off your binoculars and get out there, sleepy head!
— Gee Vee
Sunday, February 22, 2009
A Sobering Affair
Figures.
It snowed yesterday— whiteout conditions that obscured the Straits of Mackinac and made any plans for a casual road trip utterly ludicrous. Even dangerous. Seems like it's always something, you know? We swallowed our disappointment. Bitter fare, indeed.
Beaten but not defeated, we decided to meet friends who were hosting a local snowmobile ride. It's a popular annual event that culminates with a steak and shrimp feast. Their log cabin bar was warm and welcoming as we arrived. Inside, we were greeted by an eclectic mix of local color that painted a patchwork palette. However, we soon detected a common thread throughout, a theme emerged.
Many of our friends are tradesmen, some who work locally, others (including our host) who work in the construction field amid world renown at an international scope and scale. Still others were from the auto industry, having made their annual pilgrimage north for the ride.
Although the beer flowed, conversation at the table grew sobering. Large and small, from such diverse and distinct sectors of the local and multinational labor market, the news was grim— returns on investments and retirement funds, devastated, jobs and prospects, lost. Austere images of a global downturn were captured in the emotional montage of the mural before us. Drab and disheartening shades of greyscale, predominant, as the gathered wake donned its widow's weeds.
Now, on this morning after— with our excesses and indulgences damning, desperately wishing we might have been more circumspect or perhaps abstained altogether— now, I can only wonder... is the party over?
— Gee Vee
It snowed yesterday— whiteout conditions that obscured the Straits of Mackinac and made any plans for a casual road trip utterly ludicrous. Even dangerous. Seems like it's always something, you know? We swallowed our disappointment. Bitter fare, indeed.
Beaten but not defeated, we decided to meet friends who were hosting a local snowmobile ride. It's a popular annual event that culminates with a steak and shrimp feast. Their log cabin bar was warm and welcoming as we arrived. Inside, we were greeted by an eclectic mix of local color that painted a patchwork palette. However, we soon detected a common thread throughout, a theme emerged.
Many of our friends are tradesmen, some who work locally, others (including our host) who work in the construction field amid world renown at an international scope and scale. Still others were from the auto industry, having made their annual pilgrimage north for the ride.
Although the beer flowed, conversation at the table grew sobering. Large and small, from such diverse and distinct sectors of the local and multinational labor market, the news was grim— returns on investments and retirement funds, devastated, jobs and prospects, lost. Austere images of a global downturn were captured in the emotional montage of the mural before us. Drab and disheartening shades of greyscale, predominant, as the gathered wake donned its widow's weeds.
Now, on this morning after— with our excesses and indulgences damning, desperately wishing we might have been more circumspect or perhaps abstained altogether— now, I can only wonder... is the party over?
— Gee Vee
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Our One-Nighter!
I think there must be a bad case of cabin fever goin' 'round. Dan and I have been suffering from its effects for weeks. You know, symptoms that include languor and lethargy, pointless TV, a sudden and irrational irritability, pointless TV, a systemic indifference to everything, pointless TV, an overall malaise, pointless TV, downright boredom and— finally— more pointless TV.
I was talking to Jamie yesterday and was astonished to learn that she and Nick have been afflicted as well. (It must really be catching!) Ironically, we have all decided to cure what ails us by getting out of town for part of the weekend.
Maybe because we're old and life has been kinda humdrum for years, Dan and I are pretty easy to please. Even a small change of scenery is a HUGE deal. We're going to have grandma babysit the dog for the night and drive up to Brimley. Although we don't gamble, we'll probably stay at the casino resort there. We enjoy their restaurant, the pretty view of Canada and the fact that we can hang out by the fireplace in their lounge— linger over a bottle (or two!) of wine without having to worry about the commute home. From there, we may even take a drive over to Paradise and nearby Whitefish Point tomorrow morning.
Or we may decide to go to Traverse City tonight. It's a coin-toss.
Apparently, Jamie and Nick are a bit harder to please. They don't know where to go.
"It's difficult to decide, Mom. I mean, we live on Cape Cod. It's where everyone within an easy commute goes to get away. It would be like you, living at the beautiful Straits of Mackinac, saying, 'Gee, we'd really like to go to Flint on our next vacation!'"
I see her point.
Now, if you're from Flint, please DO NOT send me hate mail. I'm sure Flint has some wonderful attractions... umm, we're just not sure what they are.
Anyway, after I'm done working later today, we'll throw a small suitcase in the truck and drive off into the sunset... unless it decides to snow. If that happens, we'll probably just hang out at the house and look for something good to watch on TV.
Hey, I think Lonesome Dove may be showing on the Western Channel!
— Gee Vee
I was talking to Jamie yesterday and was astonished to learn that she and Nick have been afflicted as well. (It must really be catching!) Ironically, we have all decided to cure what ails us by getting out of town for part of the weekend.
Maybe because we're old and life has been kinda humdrum for years, Dan and I are pretty easy to please. Even a small change of scenery is a HUGE deal. We're going to have grandma babysit the dog for the night and drive up to Brimley. Although we don't gamble, we'll probably stay at the casino resort there. We enjoy their restaurant, the pretty view of Canada and the fact that we can hang out by the fireplace in their lounge— linger over a bottle (or two!) of wine without having to worry about the commute home. From there, we may even take a drive over to Paradise and nearby Whitefish Point tomorrow morning.
Or we may decide to go to Traverse City tonight. It's a coin-toss.
Apparently, Jamie and Nick are a bit harder to please. They don't know where to go.
"It's difficult to decide, Mom. I mean, we live on Cape Cod. It's where everyone within an easy commute goes to get away. It would be like you, living at the beautiful Straits of Mackinac, saying, 'Gee, we'd really like to go to Flint on our next vacation!'"
I see her point.
Now, if you're from Flint, please DO NOT send me hate mail. I'm sure Flint has some wonderful attractions... umm, we're just not sure what they are.
Anyway, after I'm done working later today, we'll throw a small suitcase in the truck and drive off into the sunset... unless it decides to snow. If that happens, we'll probably just hang out at the house and look for something good to watch on TV.
Hey, I think Lonesome Dove may be showing on the Western Channel!
— Gee Vee
Friday, February 20, 2009
My Unrequited Love
A blogger acquaintance of mine once asked his readers if they would consider buying books in an electronic format, such as those downloaded to the "Kindle" device (which was a relatively new phenomenon at the time).
My answer was a resounding "NO."
I love books. I enjoy flipping the pages, holding them while I read, admiring the "keepers" on my bookshelves. I simply could not imagine feeling the same aesthetic satisfaction from a book stored on a electronic reading device.
Today, I guess-timate about 90 percent of the material I read is gathered from sources found on an electronic device, whether it's my notebook computer or my smart phone. I read from a collection of online newspapers, magazines and blogs from across the country and the UK. I've become more comfortable with the technology, I suppose.
While I still can't imagine putting aside print volumes entirely, one look at Amazon's second generation, Kindle 2, has convinced me to reconsider an electronic reading device for novels, etc.
The Second Generation, Kindle 2
Most of their books, even the latest bestsellers, run about $10 and download directly to the Kindle in about a minute. It will store 1500 titles and there are nearly 300,000 books to choose from— and that number is growing every day.
I'm not trying to sound like an advertisement for Amazon, only explain why I want one of these nifty little gadgets so much. However, at $360, I'm finding it nearly impossible to justify the expense when I can check out a lot of books from the local library and never spend a dime.
But have you ever seen something that just tempts you to splurge beyond all reason? Well, this is my particular obsession, and it's driving me CRAZY!
What's wrong with me? Why couldn't I lust after something practical... you know, like a new purse at Wal-Mart, instead?
[sigh]
— Gee Vee
My answer was a resounding "NO."
I love books. I enjoy flipping the pages, holding them while I read, admiring the "keepers" on my bookshelves. I simply could not imagine feeling the same aesthetic satisfaction from a book stored on a electronic reading device.
Today, I guess-timate about 90 percent of the material I read is gathered from sources found on an electronic device, whether it's my notebook computer or my smart phone. I read from a collection of online newspapers, magazines and blogs from across the country and the UK. I've become more comfortable with the technology, I suppose.
While I still can't imagine putting aside print volumes entirely, one look at Amazon's second generation, Kindle 2, has convinced me to reconsider an electronic reading device for novels, etc.
Most of their books, even the latest bestsellers, run about $10 and download directly to the Kindle in about a minute. It will store 1500 titles and there are nearly 300,000 books to choose from— and that number is growing every day.
I'm not trying to sound like an advertisement for Amazon, only explain why I want one of these nifty little gadgets so much. However, at $360, I'm finding it nearly impossible to justify the expense when I can check out a lot of books from the local library and never spend a dime.
But have you ever seen something that just tempts you to splurge beyond all reason? Well, this is my particular obsession, and it's driving me CRAZY!
What's wrong with me? Why couldn't I lust after something practical... you know, like a new purse at Wal-Mart, instead?
[sigh]
— Gee Vee
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Daylight in the Swamp
This morning was off to a rather bad start when my little dog insisted on waking me, frantically polishing my face with puppy-slobber kisses to get my attention. Apparently, she had to get outside to do her business— "NOW"!
I was groggy, vaguely wondering why she couldn't hold on until my alarm went off, as usual. After all, she'd been out right before bed, and her bladder is generally a good deal more dependable than my own. Trying to avoid the worst of her drool, I rolled over to glance at the clock.
5:10 AM.
The circuits in my brain were a little slow to process this information, but suddenly it hit me with a force that slammed into my chest like a physical blow.
5:10 AM!!
OMG, I'd overslept! While I knew at once I wouldn't be late for work, but I like to get up early... you know, kinda ease into my morning, linger over a gallon of hot coffee while reading the news online. I was missing the best part of the day! How could I neglect to set my alarm? What an idiot! I was furious with myself. I threw back the comforter so fast that I actually catapulted the puppy right over Dan and clear across the bed. (Have you ever seen the Inuit play that blanket-toss game? Yeah, it was sorta like that. Heh!)
I was halfway down the flight of stairs before I heard the poor, dazed creature hit the floor to come running after me. Then somewhere between hooking out the dog and pouring my coffee, I remembered that I have today off. I didn't set my alarm last night because I don't work today. Duh!
I don't know about you, but I hate when I wake up thinking I've overslept.
Although I haven't done it in years, I remember once when I was in high school that I woke to see the sun blazing through my bedroom window and absolutely panicked because I was going to be late for school. Rather than blame myself, in those days it was much easier to simply blame my mom. Why didn't she bother to wake me rather than let me miss the bus?! I was so angry! I nearly broke my neck on the stairs, racing to find out what in the heck was going on.
Downstairs, Mom was standing out in the kitchen making breakfast and didn't appear to have a care in the world. My brother and sister were watching TV, and Dad was propped up in his recliner drinking a cold beer. Then it slowly occurred to my sleep-befuddled brain that I smelled pork chops cooking.
Huh?
Yup, you guessed it. I'd apparently fallen asleep after school and woke up thinking sun was rising— when it was actually setting. What a doofus! Needless to say, everyone enjoyed a good laugh at my expense that day. I was mortified.
Okay, so now that I've just confessed to the entire world what a moron I can be, I dare you to admit you've done the same.
Come on, admit it!
— Gee Vee
I was groggy, vaguely wondering why she couldn't hold on until my alarm went off, as usual. After all, she'd been out right before bed, and her bladder is generally a good deal more dependable than my own. Trying to avoid the worst of her drool, I rolled over to glance at the clock.
5:10 AM.
The circuits in my brain were a little slow to process this information, but suddenly it hit me with a force that slammed into my chest like a physical blow.
5:10 AM!!
OMG, I'd overslept! While I knew at once I wouldn't be late for work, but I like to get up early... you know, kinda ease into my morning, linger over a gallon of hot coffee while reading the news online. I was missing the best part of the day! How could I neglect to set my alarm? What an idiot! I was furious with myself. I threw back the comforter so fast that I actually catapulted the puppy right over Dan and clear across the bed. (Have you ever seen the Inuit play that blanket-toss game? Yeah, it was sorta like that. Heh!)
I was halfway down the flight of stairs before I heard the poor, dazed creature hit the floor to come running after me. Then somewhere between hooking out the dog and pouring my coffee, I remembered that I have today off. I didn't set my alarm last night because I don't work today. Duh!
I don't know about you, but I hate when I wake up thinking I've overslept.
Although I haven't done it in years, I remember once when I was in high school that I woke to see the sun blazing through my bedroom window and absolutely panicked because I was going to be late for school. Rather than blame myself, in those days it was much easier to simply blame my mom. Why didn't she bother to wake me rather than let me miss the bus?! I was so angry! I nearly broke my neck on the stairs, racing to find out what in the heck was going on.
Downstairs, Mom was standing out in the kitchen making breakfast and didn't appear to have a care in the world. My brother and sister were watching TV, and Dad was propped up in his recliner drinking a cold beer. Then it slowly occurred to my sleep-befuddled brain that I smelled pork chops cooking.
Huh?
Yup, you guessed it. I'd apparently fallen asleep after school and woke up thinking sun was rising— when it was actually setting. What a doofus! Needless to say, everyone enjoyed a good laugh at my expense that day. I was mortified.
Okay, so now that I've just confessed to the entire world what a moron I can be, I dare you to admit you've done the same.
Come on, admit it!
— Gee Vee
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Much Ado About Nothing
Well, if you think I occasionally muddle through a blog entry with nothin' much to say, you gotta see how Eric Williams kills his time. Lame. Heh!
TTYL
— Gee Vee
(Aww... Northern Michigan still loves you, Eric!)
TTYL
— Gee Vee
(Aww... Northern Michigan still loves you, Eric!)
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Neither rain, nor sleet, nor gloom of night...
I peeked at my blog when I got up this morning and happened to glance at the current snap-shot captured by the Mackinac Bridge web cam. I used to have this feature up on my last blog (and on my old MySpace page) and finally bothered to put it up again, here. I've kinda missed having a look-see at what sort of weather I'll be confronting as I head in to work.
This picture is taken from the toll booths on the north end of the bridge, looking south. There is a person working in a toll booth a few feet away from that camera right at that very moment. Alone. Not a car or truck in sight. It's often like that for hours on end, in fair weather and during our worst snow storms of the season.
Sometimes I feel a little sorry for them. I wonder if they brought a good book to work to help pass the long, tedious hours while they wait for a fare to pull up. Or would that be against the rules? I wonder if they sometimes get a little spooked sitting out there all alone. Do they get lonely? Would it comfort them to know that I checked in to make sure the bridge was still there this morning? Or do they completely forget that even in their darkest hour they're still connected (via their web cam) to the entire world?
Yeah, I actually think about bizarre stuff like that.
Hey, I never said I was normal.
— Gee Vee
Monday, February 16, 2009
Temper! Temper!
In case you didn't catch it on the news, this woman missed her flight from Hong Kong to San Francisco.
Whew! I think some little lady needs a swat on the fanny and to be sent off to bed without supper.
— Gee Vee
Whew! I think some little lady needs a swat on the fanny and to be sent off to bed without supper.
— Gee Vee
My Wildest Dreams!
It's been a rough past 24 hours for me. Yesterday, I suffered the whole darn day from a really bad headache that I still feel lurking in the background yet this morning... as though it's just waiting for its chance to strike once more. I hate when I've a poopy headache that I didn't even have enough wine to deserve. No fair!
In fact, it was so bad that I went to bed shortly after 8 last night, hoping to sleep through the worst of it. And I did sleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, only to find my slumber tormented by terrible, twisted nightmares. They were so vivid! I swear, I could even describe the face paint on the demonic killer clown who was trying to feed me tainted Spanish peanuts in the Cracker Jacks.
[shudders]
I mean, don't you wonder where your mind digs up this crap sometimes? Why couldn't I be cursed with some wildly erotic dream featuring Fabio, like any normal woman? Seriously. Is that so much to ask?
Wowza!
In fact, it was so bad that I went to bed shortly after 8 last night, hoping to sleep through the worst of it. And I did sleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, only to find my slumber tormented by terrible, twisted nightmares. They were so vivid! I swear, I could even describe the face paint on the demonic killer clown who was trying to feed me tainted Spanish peanuts in the Cracker Jacks.
I mean, don't you wonder where your mind digs up this crap sometimes? Why couldn't I be cursed with some wildly erotic dream featuring Fabio, like any normal woman? Seriously. Is that so much to ask?
Uh...well, anyway, all this is to say I've nothing substantive to offer you this morning (Sorry, Jes) because I'm just not feeling like myself. However, I did stumble across a video that might bring a little smile to your face.
(Oh, quit sulking. At least you're not plagued by killer clowns!)
TTYL
— Gee Vee
Sunday, February 15, 2009
The Journey Home
Last night Dan and I drove over to Mom's. My brother and his family had come down from Marquette to visit her for the weekend. We threw some beautiful ribeye steaks on the grill for dinner and had a little cake and ice cream to celebrate his wife, Judy's, birthday (on the 13th) and Dan's birthday (today).
If you've read me for very long at all, you know things generally get a little tense whenever my brother, Kelly, and I get thrown together in the same room. Okay, A LOT tense. He's one year younger than I. We grew up together, had pretty much the same experiences while we were growing up. We were raised by the same parents, with the same values. Yet, today, we are so far apart— politically speaking— that it creates some serious issues in our relationship.
Every time we anticipate seeing Kelly, Dan and I have to mentally prepare for the occasion. We have to remind ourselves that we absolutely WILL NOT, under any circumstances, discuss anything even remotely political, as was the case again yesterday. I suspect Kelly and Judy do the same. It's like we have this uneasy "cease-fire" declared when we're at our mother's house. We all try hard to stick by this unspoken peace accord, not only for our mother's sake but for our own as well. I think we both hate the fact that we could happily throttle one another given theright wrong topic.
Last night went pretty well until my brother suddenly ruptured a gut over the stimulus bill. Honestly, it came out of nowhere. I just sat there and let him rant and rave. You would have been proud of me. I didn't return fire. I didn't get sucked into the fray. We all allowed Kelly to vent his spleen, partly because he has some valid concerns, partly because even if we agreed with some of what he said, saying so would only fan the fire. He would press his advantage into more dangerous territory.
"Now, Kelly..." my mother began.
"But Mommmmmm...!"
Then he seemed to try to gather his composure; I swear I could see his internal struggle as if it was a physical thing. He left the room. When he returned ten minutes later, he had mastered his demons.
Suddenly an amazing thing happened. A memory stirred. A time and place nearly forgotten was resurrected. The conversation expanded. Before we knew it, Kelly and I had spent almost two hours remembering all the adventures and misadventures we'd shared as children. It was an incredible journey. A desert trek. It was a white cross on a distant hill we'd nearly passed by, a mysterious talking ashtray, an old Indian Museum.
His kids gathered close, enchanted, as we explored all the dusty, neglected corners of our collective memory. We remembered it all.
Then in the darkest, farthest-most dim cranny, almost hidden from view and concealed by years of indifference, so abstruse and opaque that we nearly overlooked it completely... and now revealed in all its splendor, dazzling, stunning as it was touched by the light for the first time in a very long time, we suddenly remembered that we love each other.
— Gee Vee
If you've read me for very long at all, you know things generally get a little tense whenever my brother, Kelly, and I get thrown together in the same room. Okay, A LOT tense. He's one year younger than I. We grew up together, had pretty much the same experiences while we were growing up. We were raised by the same parents, with the same values. Yet, today, we are so far apart— politically speaking— that it creates some serious issues in our relationship.
Every time we anticipate seeing Kelly, Dan and I have to mentally prepare for the occasion. We have to remind ourselves that we absolutely WILL NOT, under any circumstances, discuss anything even remotely political, as was the case again yesterday. I suspect Kelly and Judy do the same. It's like we have this uneasy "cease-fire" declared when we're at our mother's house. We all try hard to stick by this unspoken peace accord, not only for our mother's sake but for our own as well. I think we both hate the fact that we could happily throttle one another given the
Last night went pretty well until my brother suddenly ruptured a gut over the stimulus bill. Honestly, it came out of nowhere. I just sat there and let him rant and rave. You would have been proud of me. I didn't return fire. I didn't get sucked into the fray. We all allowed Kelly to vent his spleen, partly because he has some valid concerns, partly because even if we agreed with some of what he said, saying so would only fan the fire. He would press his advantage into more dangerous territory.
"Now, Kelly..." my mother began.
"But Mommmmmm...!"
Then he seemed to try to gather his composure; I swear I could see his internal struggle as if it was a physical thing. He left the room. When he returned ten minutes later, he had mastered his demons.
Suddenly an amazing thing happened. A memory stirred. A time and place nearly forgotten was resurrected. The conversation expanded. Before we knew it, Kelly and I had spent almost two hours remembering all the adventures and misadventures we'd shared as children. It was an incredible journey. A desert trek. It was a white cross on a distant hill we'd nearly passed by, a mysterious talking ashtray, an old Indian Museum.
His kids gathered close, enchanted, as we explored all the dusty, neglected corners of our collective memory. We remembered it all.
Then in the darkest, farthest-most dim cranny, almost hidden from view and concealed by years of indifference, so abstruse and opaque that we nearly overlooked it completely... and now revealed in all its splendor, dazzling, stunning as it was touched by the light for the first time in a very long time, we suddenly remembered that we love each other.
— Gee Vee
Saturday, February 14, 2009
If a picture is worth a thousand words...
Whadaya think? Did the photographer intend to plant a not-so-subliminal message here?
— Gee Vee
(BTW, this file photo is regularly used by the Telegraph from the U.K. in many of its articles relating to President Obama.)
Friday, February 13, 2009
Believe
I watched the moment.
Ms. Henrietta Hughes recognized something special in this president, something that makes him different, more human— humane. Whether or not they agree with his policies or his politics, I don't know how anyone could witness her plea, his comforting kiss, and remain untouched. Indifferent.
Yet, they're out there. The skeptics and the snide. The naysayers and nonbelievers. They're out there. With their own venom leaching, bitter as bile through their tiny, shriveled hearts, they are out there.
— Gee Vee
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Wall Street Whiners! :p~~~~
While I was working in the office yesterday afternoon, I had CNN on TV for a little background noise. My wheels were busy clickin' along, paying bills and whatnot, when I heard Rick Sanchez lead into an introduction for Washington Post Business Columnist, Steven Pearlstein. (I hope that link will work for you. You may need to fill out a short registration form in order to view the content. There's no cost, and it's worth your time.)
Rick seemed kinda tickled by the opening lines in Mr. Pearlstein's editorial:
Frankly, I was so astonished to hear his take on Wall Street's reaction to Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner's latest plan to stabilize the faltering financial industry, I almost choked on my tea. I had watched the DOW plummet on Tuesday, and I wasn't surprised. Since October, the only thing predictable about the market has been its unpredictability. They really have been behaving like truculent children, and I am thrilled someone finally had the big, whompin', brass ballocks to say so.
In fact, reading Steven Pearlstein's comments reminded me a little of the observations I made in a post waaaay back on November 26, including:
Rep. Gary Ackerman RRRRROWWWW! Go Get 'Em, Tiger!
(BTW, after Citibank cancelled its order for a $50M plane, has anyone stopped to wonder what happened to the manufacturer who was ready to deliver it? I mean, they built a jet customized for Citibank executives and got stuck holding the tab for materials and labor for the work. I don't know about you, but I'd hate to get stiffed on a $50M job. Who else can afford to buy a plane like that? Maybe we'll see it up for auction— CHEAP— on Ebay? Freddie Mac could pick it up for a song!)
Oh, well. All this is just a tempest in a teacup given the REAL news-maker of the day, don't you agree?
— Gee Vee
Rick seemed kinda tickled by the opening lines in Mr. Pearlstein's editorial:
"Wall Street is not pleased.
Hunkered-down executives and hyperactive traders were more than a little disappointed with what they heard from our straight-shooting new Treasury secretary as he unveiled his plans for Bank Bailout 2.0
Not enough clarity, they complained. Still no light at the end of the tunnel, bemoaned others. Like spoiled, petulant children, they demonstrated their dissatisfaction by driving stock prices down another 5 percent.
By now, I hope you've learned enough not to be taken in by the self-serving floor patter. These guys won't be happy until the government agrees to relieve them of every last one of their lousy loans and investments at inflated prices, recapitalize every major bank and brokerage and insurance company on sweetheart terms and restore them to the glory days, so they can once again earn inflated profits and obscene pay packages by screwing over their customers and their shareholders.
For the Wall Street wiseguys, bailout politics is just another game to be played, another market to be manipulated, another set of risks to be arbitraged."
Frankly, I was so astonished to hear his take on Wall Street's reaction to Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner's latest plan to stabilize the faltering financial industry, I almost choked on my tea. I had watched the DOW plummet on Tuesday, and I wasn't surprised. Since October, the only thing predictable about the market has been its unpredictability. They really have been behaving like truculent children, and I am thrilled someone finally had the big, whompin', brass ballocks to say so.
In fact, reading Steven Pearlstein's comments reminded me a little of the observations I made in a post waaaay back on November 26, including:
"Wall Street represents the single largest collection of bipolar disorder drama queens I have ever seen in my life!"The American people and the House Financial Services Committee have been verbally flogging the titans of the banking industry (Oh,hey, don't you just LOVE watching Rep. Gary Ackerman give 'em hell? Shoooooweeeeee! He sure is SPUNKY!) because, let's face it, "business" junkets to Las Vegas and custom jets are probably not the best way to reassure us that OUR investment in their firms is being spent wisely.
(BTW, after Citibank cancelled its order for a $50M plane, has anyone stopped to wonder what happened to the manufacturer who was ready to deliver it? I mean, they built a jet customized for Citibank executives and got stuck holding the tab for materials and labor for the work. I don't know about you, but I'd hate to get stiffed on a $50M job. Who else can afford to buy a plane like that? Maybe we'll see it up for auction— CHEAP— on Ebay? Freddie Mac could pick it up for a song!)
Oh, well. All this is just a tempest in a teacup given the REAL news-maker of the day, don't you agree?
— Gee Vee
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
TOP DOG!
Every year Dan and I enjoy watching the Westminster Kennel Club dog show. This year was particularly fun for us because a Northern Michigan dog was in the running for the prestigious honor of "Best In Show."
Sadie
Ch Roundtown Mercedes Of Maryscot, "Sadie" for short, is a three-year-old Scottish Terrier owned by Dan and Amelia Musser, stewards of The Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island. So, of course, we were happy to see Sadie win the number one spot in the Terrier Group on Monday night. Although Sadie did not go on to win the coveted "Best In Show" last night, she's still NUMBER 1 in our book.
"Best In Terrier Group"
Yea, Sadie!
YOU GO, GIRL!
— Gee Vee
Ch Roundtown Mercedes Of Maryscot, "Sadie" for short, is a three-year-old Scottish Terrier owned by Dan and Amelia Musser, stewards of The Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island. So, of course, we were happy to see Sadie win the number one spot in the Terrier Group on Monday night. Although Sadie did not go on to win the coveted "Best In Show" last night, she's still NUMBER 1 in our book.
— Gee Vee
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The Street View Stalker
I just KNEW there was something kinda creepy about that program....
— Gee Vee
I want some of what he's having!
This video was filmed by the father of a seven-year-old boy who has just had an extra tooth removed at the dentist's office. Yes, he had to be carried to the car. Walking would have definitely been out of the question. ;)
Novice. He obviously doesn't know a good buzz when he's got one. Heh!
— Gee Vee
Novice. He obviously doesn't know a good buzz when he's got one. Heh!
— Gee Vee
Monday, February 9, 2009
And for my next prediction...
Early Saturday morning I wrote about the Facebook flashmob Silent Dance which attracted a crowd of 13,000 to the cavernous Liverpool Street Station. Today CNN reports that the (anonymous) young man who organized the event is now planning what he hopes will be an even LARGER event at the Trafalgar Square station on February 13 and another at Liverpool station on the twentieth.
At the end of my entry on Saturday morning, I made the comment, "You know, I think I feel a craze comin' on...."
Given today's news, it seems I may have been right about that. Unfortunately, I already see trouble looming on the horizon. First of all, because the other night was so much fun, I've no doubt he's right, and an even larger crowd may attempt to gather Friday night. Having said that, I'm afraid security officials will be obliged to put the kibosh to the affair.
You know, part of what made last Friday's gathering so compelling was the relative spontaneity of the event. Even though police were aware of the intended silent dance, I doubt they had an inkling just how many young people would ultimately show up. Now that they are forewarned, I have to think they will be forced to take steps to avert the crowds... perhaps even close the station for a period of time.
Why?
Friday night was so awesome because the group, although loud, was so peaceful. No one was hurt. No one was arrested. They dispersed in an orderly manner. However, I doubt security officials will be willing to take a chance that future gatherings of this nature can be managed so smoothly.
Additionally, the whole world knows about their plans now. Heck, even CNN will probably be there. Sadly, this is a recipe for disaster. There are simply too many people out there who would be willing to use a gathering like that to make a statement. Perhaps they would arrive with enough guns hidden under their coat to arm a small third world nation... perhaps they would have a bomb strapped to their chest. Whatever. You can practically count on it, someone will eventually want to spoil everyone's good time in the most heinous and hideous way possible.
And, unfortunately, all it takes is one whack-job looking to make the headlines in Saturday morning's edition of the Telegraph.
— Gee Vee
At the end of my entry on Saturday morning, I made the comment, "You know, I think I feel a craze comin' on...."
Given today's news, it seems I may have been right about that. Unfortunately, I already see trouble looming on the horizon. First of all, because the other night was so much fun, I've no doubt he's right, and an even larger crowd may attempt to gather Friday night. Having said that, I'm afraid security officials will be obliged to put the kibosh to the affair.
You know, part of what made last Friday's gathering so compelling was the relative spontaneity of the event. Even though police were aware of the intended silent dance, I doubt they had an inkling just how many young people would ultimately show up. Now that they are forewarned, I have to think they will be forced to take steps to avert the crowds... perhaps even close the station for a period of time.
Why?
Friday night was so awesome because the group, although loud, was so peaceful. No one was hurt. No one was arrested. They dispersed in an orderly manner. However, I doubt security officials will be willing to take a chance that future gatherings of this nature can be managed so smoothly.
Additionally, the whole world knows about their plans now. Heck, even CNN will probably be there. Sadly, this is a recipe for disaster. There are simply too many people out there who would be willing to use a gathering like that to make a statement. Perhaps they would arrive with enough guns hidden under their coat to arm a small third world nation... perhaps they would have a bomb strapped to their chest. Whatever. You can practically count on it, someone will eventually want to spoil everyone's good time in the most heinous and hideous way possible.
And, unfortunately, all it takes is one whack-job looking to make the headlines in Saturday morning's edition of the Telegraph.
— Gee Vee
I just don't get it...
Okay, I know it's been practically impossible to miss headlines in the news about the record number of home foreclosures during the past year. While many of these foreclosures now seem to be families who are recently unemployed, initially the trouble seemed to be in how many people had acquired adjustable-rate mortgages for more than their homes were actually worth. These "teaser rates" eventually ballooned beyond the homeowners' ability to make the adjusted payment. Then they couldn't sell the house for anything close to what they still owed.
This lending tactic extended beyond the housing market.
How many times have you heard auto dealerships offering a $1,000 trade-in on anything you could drag down to their car lot? You know they have this figure cleverly calculated into the bottom-line price for the new car. Frankly, dealers wouldn't stay in business for long by giving something for nothing every time a person towed a beater to their lot. Additionally, the auto loans were often written for more than the cars being sold were worth to cover the payoff on the existing car loan due on the trade-in. Often those existing loans carried a balance that was substantially higher than the trade-in was actually worth, compounding the problem.
Because they're unsecured loans, credit card interest rates are notoriously high even under ideal circumstances, yet how many times have you found your mailbox cram-packed with credit card offers? They can look pretty tempting when you're strapped for cash. Before you know it, you're making staggering monthly payments for interest on the cards while barely making a dent in the principal. When you start to fall behind, late payment fees can really compromise your already-beleaguered budget.
So, my question is, why is the federal government begging banks to loosen the purse strings and start lending money again to help our ailing economy? I mean, isn't this precisely how the banks ended up in trouble in the first place?
I'm not trying to be sarcastic here; I'm genuinely struggling to understand the system. I wish someone would explain it to me. If lending too much money to people who shouldn't have qualified for loans in the first place landed them in this situation, should we really be encouraging banks to carry on with "business as usual" if the practice clearly encourages toxic debt?
I suspect banks are still writing mortgages and car dealerships are still selling cars, except NOW they're more cautious to ensure the loan isn't for more than the appraised valuation of the property (whether it's a house or a car), and they're screening the applicants more thoroughly, insisting on a sound credit history and carefully calculating their budgets to make certain they have the ability to comfortably repay the debt.
Will someone please explain to me how encouraging financial institutions to hand out loans like we're having one huge fire sale is good for our economy?
I am all for the American dream of home ownership. God knows, we all want for our children to be able to own their own homes someday, but that dream shouldn't be a pipe dream. It should be a goal attained through careful financial planning and patience.
Right?
— Gee Vee
This lending tactic extended beyond the housing market.
How many times have you heard auto dealerships offering a $1,000 trade-in on anything you could drag down to their car lot? You know they have this figure cleverly calculated into the bottom-line price for the new car. Frankly, dealers wouldn't stay in business for long by giving something for nothing every time a person towed a beater to their lot. Additionally, the auto loans were often written for more than the cars being sold were worth to cover the payoff on the existing car loan due on the trade-in. Often those existing loans carried a balance that was substantially higher than the trade-in was actually worth, compounding the problem.
Because they're unsecured loans, credit card interest rates are notoriously high even under ideal circumstances, yet how many times have you found your mailbox cram-packed with credit card offers? They can look pretty tempting when you're strapped for cash. Before you know it, you're making staggering monthly payments for interest on the cards while barely making a dent in the principal. When you start to fall behind, late payment fees can really compromise your already-beleaguered budget.
So, my question is, why is the federal government begging banks to loosen the purse strings and start lending money again to help our ailing economy? I mean, isn't this precisely how the banks ended up in trouble in the first place?
I'm not trying to be sarcastic here; I'm genuinely struggling to understand the system. I wish someone would explain it to me. If lending too much money to people who shouldn't have qualified for loans in the first place landed them in this situation, should we really be encouraging banks to carry on with "business as usual" if the practice clearly encourages toxic debt?
I suspect banks are still writing mortgages and car dealerships are still selling cars, except NOW they're more cautious to ensure the loan isn't for more than the appraised valuation of the property (whether it's a house or a car), and they're screening the applicants more thoroughly, insisting on a sound credit history and carefully calculating their budgets to make certain they have the ability to comfortably repay the debt.
Will someone please explain to me how encouraging financial institutions to hand out loans like we're having one huge fire sale is good for our economy?
I am all for the American dream of home ownership. God knows, we all want for our children to be able to own their own homes someday, but that dream shouldn't be a pipe dream. It should be a goal attained through careful financial planning and patience.
Right?
— Gee Vee
Sunday, February 8, 2009
iDon't Got It
iPhone has been heavily advertising the astonishing array of apps for their gadget. It seems like they really do have an app for just about everything. Some are pretty off-the-wall.
Well, for instance, here's one that I won't need now—
Hmm, you know, come to think of it, this app might give me a heads-up when the girls at work are going to be... umm, a bit difficult because it actually does the math for you. You can even track multiple women which might be a handy accessory for the jerk busy man-about-town struggling to juggle names and numbers in his little black book iPhone.
There's another app called "Rimshots and Crickets." It's a collection of classic sound effects to fit your life. Did you just crack a joke that went down like a lead balloon? This app will make the sound of crickets chirping... which will probably amuse your audience slightly more than your pathetic attempt at humor. Someone just pull a totally moronic stunt at work? You have a slow hand clap to reward their efforts. Just land a perfect one-liner? There's a nifty vaudeville-style cymbal crash for puncuation.
iFart doesn't really require a description, does it? (I suppose this one might be fun in a crowded elevator.)
iSteam would be kinda entertaining. You blow into your microphone and the touch screen fogs up. You can draw in the steam, making notations over your photos, etc. It comes complete with a squeaky glass sound effects and dribbling water drops. You just shake the device to clear the screen.
Drunk Dialer is a considerate little accessory that will put an end to those embarassing after-hours calls to your friends and family that you can only regret the next morning. If you're even a little tipsy, your phone will sense the slightest swaying and won't let you make that call. (I wish Jamie would have had this one available while she was at college! Heh!)
Frankly, all this discussion is kinda pointless since I don't even have an iPhone. But, hey, what can I say? It's a slow news day and I needed a little filler. ;)
TTYL
— Gee Vee
Well, for instance, here's one that I won't need now—
Hmm, you know, come to think of it, this app might give me a heads-up when the girls at work are going to be... umm, a bit difficult because it actually does the math for you. You can even track multiple women which might be a handy accessory for the "Nope, definitely can't call Susan this weekend. How about Jenny? Oh,YEAH, this is a great time for Jenny...."I'm mean, in today's tough economy what guy wants to shell out $$$ for dinner and a movie only to be dismissed at her front door with a peck on the cheek because he's invested in the wrong time of the month?
There's another app called "Rimshots and Crickets." It's a collection of classic sound effects to fit your life. Did you just crack a joke that went down like a lead balloon? This app will make the sound of crickets chirping... which will probably amuse your audience slightly more than your pathetic attempt at humor. Someone just pull a totally moronic stunt at work? You have a slow hand clap to reward their efforts. Just land a perfect one-liner? There's a nifty vaudeville-style cymbal crash for puncuation.
iFart doesn't really require a description, does it? (I suppose this one might be fun in a crowded elevator.)
iSteam would be kinda entertaining. You blow into your microphone and the touch screen fogs up. You can draw in the steam, making notations over your photos, etc. It comes complete with a squeaky glass sound effects and dribbling water drops. You just shake the device to clear the screen.
Drunk Dialer is a considerate little accessory that will put an end to those embarassing after-hours calls to your friends and family that you can only regret the next morning. If you're even a little tipsy, your phone will sense the slightest swaying and won't let you make that call. (I wish Jamie would have had this one available while she was at college! Heh!)Frankly, all this discussion is kinda pointless since I don't even have an iPhone. But, hey, what can I say? It's a slow news day and I needed a little filler. ;)
TTYL
— Gee Vee
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Jeez, I miss all the fun stuff!
Mimicking a T-Mobile commercial filmed in one of London's largest subway stations in January, last night a flash mob of 13,000— yes, I said 13,000— converged on Liverpool Station for a "silent dance." Apparently the event was organized through Facebook. Participants traveled from all over England, donned earbuds and danced to their own tunes at the stroke of 7 PM.
The original commercial had a cast of 400. Although last night's "Liverpool Street Station Silent Dance" was a peaceful affair, police were forced to disperse the crowd after about 25 minutes because of concerns due to overcrowding.
The Original T-Mobile Commercial
The Scene Last Night
You know, I think I feel a craze comin' on....
— Gee Vee
The original commercial had a cast of 400. Although last night's "Liverpool Street Station Silent Dance" was a peaceful affair, police were forced to disperse the crowd after about 25 minutes because of concerns due to overcrowding.
You know, I think I feel a craze comin' on....
— Gee Vee
Friday, February 6, 2009
Must Be Love!
Boys, with Valentine's Day fast upon us, I believe I may have found an inexpensive alternative to a dozen long-stemmed roses, high-end chocolates and diamond jewelry for that special lady in your life. (Hey! Are you listening, gentlemen? I said "inexpensive"!)
"Smittens" are mittens designed to allow couples to hold hands right inside their gloves while out for that romantic walk in the park. This gift is certain to impress your gal because they gotta know that any man willing to wear this embarrassing hand warmer in public must really, really, REALLY love them! Right?
And they're even available with a bright red appliqué heart, the traditional symbol of LOVE! What more could a guy ask for?
BTW, don't worry, fellas; you can thank me later— after you get lucky. [wink! wink!]
— Gee Vee
"Smittens" are mittens designed to allow couples to hold hands right inside their gloves while out for that romantic walk in the park. This gift is certain to impress your gal because they gotta know that any man willing to wear this embarrassing hand warmer in public must really, really, REALLY love them! Right?
And they're even available with a bright red appliqué heart, the traditional symbol of LOVE! What more could a guy ask for?
BTW, don't worry, fellas; you can thank me later— after you get lucky. [wink! wink!]
— Gee Vee
Thursday, February 5, 2009
A Northern Michigan Flashback
I discovered this little gem while stumbling around the Internet this morning and thought you might enjoy it. It's source guess-timates the date of this travel film short to be from c. 1949-1950, although I'll have Dan give me his considered opinion after he gets out of bed. He'll be able to look at the new cars on the freighter and nail down the year for certain. While some things haven't changed, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to get caught driving a "Dunes Mobile" on the Sleeping Bear Dunes today.
—Gee Vee
UPDATE: Dan is fairly confident the new cars on the freighter date from between 1946-48. Anyone else care to guess? Let me know! :)
—Gee Vee
UPDATE: Dan is fairly confident the new cars on the freighter date from between 1946-48. Anyone else care to guess? Let me know! :)
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
We're In The Weeds
Our local lake association was formed over two decades ago by a group of good ol' boys who enjoyed fishing and wanted a way to raise money to keep the lake stocked with Walleye, Perch and a variety of pan fish. Dan and I have been active members practically since its inception. In fact, Dan has served as a trustee on the board for more than a decade. I help to publish a small quarterly newsletter designed to keep nearly 300 family and business members informed of our various activities.
Over the years, the mission statement has evolved. While the health and welfare of the fish population is still high on our list of priorities, we have also become more conscious of the environmental impact of activities around the lake. We worked hard in conjunction with a local conservancy to raise money to purchase a large tract of wetlands on the south side of the lake, then constructed boardwalks and nature trails that allow the entire community to access and appreciate the unspoiled beauty on our doorstep while protecting the bio-diversity of its riparian ecosystem. We educate residents concerning waste water issues created by aging septic systems leaching into the lake. We've encouraged watershed property owners to create "greenbelts" (shrubbery, etc.) between their yards and the water whose root systems help absorb chemical pesticides and fertilizers before they enter the lake.
However, our most recent challenge may ultimately prove to be the demise of our group as we know it.
Eurasian Water-milfoil is a highly-invasive, non-indigenous species of pond weed that literally chokes out all native weed species and eventually grows so thick it forms dense mats on the surface of the lake. In our lake, the milfoil has become such a problem that it is now hampering recreational boating and water sports on a massive scale.
For the past ten years the lake association has attempted to control the milfoil by planting small weevils that eat the weed. But the milfoil has steadily overtaken the lake despite these efforts to manage it as unobtrusively as possible.
Now our community is divided. Half of the lakefront property owners want to introduce chemicals to kill the milfoil, which is a very expensive undertaking. The other half wants to plant a larger population of weevils. Our president has stated there will never be chemicals in the lake as long as she's president, and it's turning into a very bitter battle. Lines have been drawn in the sand. Recent scuttlebutt through the local grapevine indicates they're threatening to remove the president of the association or form a new lake association that can proceed with the chemical treatment without interference from the opposition.
It's heartbreaking to see how this pesky weed has created so much divisiveness in what had been a very close-knit community. In fact, it's become so ugly, I've no interest in attending tonight's meeting (although, as a board member, Dan is there).
Frankly, I've no problem with using chemicals to help control the milfoil. In fact, I hope they eventually decide on a course of action that treats some smaller weed beds with weevils while attacking the larger beds with chemicals.
My primary concern is the cost. The expense will be far, far beyond our ability to fund with spaghetti dinners and raffle tickets. Competition for the limited and dwindling grant money available is keen, with the majority awarded to downstate lakes. If they vote to form a lake improvement board (LIB), that board will mandate a tax assessment on lakefront property owners to cover all the expenses involved in the process. The LIB will attach these hefty assessments to their taxes for many, many years— perhaps in varying degrees for perpetuity because this weed will never entirely go away.
Many of the lakefront property owners are folks who have owned their cottages for most of their lives. In many instances, they're elderly, living on fixed incomes. Given the current state of our local economy, I fear this action will create a real financial hardship for a lot of our friends and neighbors, perhaps forcing many to sell their homes at a time when property values are at an all-time low. Will our lake eventually host a waterfront like so many others, where only the wealthy can afford the view?
It is a complex issue that raises passionate environmental, ethical, economic and societal concerns. Clearly, the milfoil needs to be controlled. For the health of our lake, we cannot afford to wait. Yet, for the sake of our neighbors struggling just to heat their homes this winter, I don't know how we can afford not to.
— Robin
Over the years, the mission statement has evolved. While the health and welfare of the fish population is still high on our list of priorities, we have also become more conscious of the environmental impact of activities around the lake. We worked hard in conjunction with a local conservancy to raise money to purchase a large tract of wetlands on the south side of the lake, then constructed boardwalks and nature trails that allow the entire community to access and appreciate the unspoiled beauty on our doorstep while protecting the bio-diversity of its riparian ecosystem. We educate residents concerning waste water issues created by aging septic systems leaching into the lake. We've encouraged watershed property owners to create "greenbelts" (shrubbery, etc.) between their yards and the water whose root systems help absorb chemical pesticides and fertilizers before they enter the lake.
However, our most recent challenge may ultimately prove to be the demise of our group as we know it.
Eurasian Water-milfoil is a highly-invasive, non-indigenous species of pond weed that literally chokes out all native weed species and eventually grows so thick it forms dense mats on the surface of the lake. In our lake, the milfoil has become such a problem that it is now hampering recreational boating and water sports on a massive scale.
For the past ten years the lake association has attempted to control the milfoil by planting small weevils that eat the weed. But the milfoil has steadily overtaken the lake despite these efforts to manage it as unobtrusively as possible.
Now our community is divided. Half of the lakefront property owners want to introduce chemicals to kill the milfoil, which is a very expensive undertaking. The other half wants to plant a larger population of weevils. Our president has stated there will never be chemicals in the lake as long as she's president, and it's turning into a very bitter battle. Lines have been drawn in the sand. Recent scuttlebutt through the local grapevine indicates they're threatening to remove the president of the association or form a new lake association that can proceed with the chemical treatment without interference from the opposition.
It's heartbreaking to see how this pesky weed has created so much divisiveness in what had been a very close-knit community. In fact, it's become so ugly, I've no interest in attending tonight's meeting (although, as a board member, Dan is there).
Frankly, I've no problem with using chemicals to help control the milfoil. In fact, I hope they eventually decide on a course of action that treats some smaller weed beds with weevils while attacking the larger beds with chemicals.
My primary concern is the cost. The expense will be far, far beyond our ability to fund with spaghetti dinners and raffle tickets. Competition for the limited and dwindling grant money available is keen, with the majority awarded to downstate lakes. If they vote to form a lake improvement board (LIB), that board will mandate a tax assessment on lakefront property owners to cover all the expenses involved in the process. The LIB will attach these hefty assessments to their taxes for many, many years— perhaps in varying degrees for perpetuity because this weed will never entirely go away.
Many of the lakefront property owners are folks who have owned their cottages for most of their lives. In many instances, they're elderly, living on fixed incomes. Given the current state of our local economy, I fear this action will create a real financial hardship for a lot of our friends and neighbors, perhaps forcing many to sell their homes at a time when property values are at an all-time low. Will our lake eventually host a waterfront like so many others, where only the wealthy can afford the view?
It is a complex issue that raises passionate environmental, ethical, economic and societal concerns. Clearly, the milfoil needs to be controlled. For the health of our lake, we cannot afford to wait. Yet, for the sake of our neighbors struggling just to heat their homes this winter, I don't know how we can afford not to.
— Robin
Monday, February 2, 2009
TOUCHDOWN!
Did I happen to mention how much I love, love, LOVE the Super Bowl?
Or how I literally sat on the edge of my seat while officials reviewed that final touchdown of the game— were his toes in bounds... or out, both feet on the ground with control of the ball... or not?
Did I happen to mention how I couldn't bear to look when the Steelers went for the extra point?
Or how I jumped around Mom's living room squealing like a girl when the clock ran out of time, that final score etched in history?
Did I happen to mention just how lucky the numbers 7 and 3 can be?
Yeah, I thought I forgot to mention that.
Oh, by the way, the wings were great! :)
— Gee Vee
Or how I literally sat on the edge of my seat while officials reviewed that final touchdown of the game— were his toes in bounds... or out, both feet on the ground with control of the ball... or not?
Did I happen to mention how I couldn't bear to look when the Steelers went for the extra point?
Or how I jumped around Mom's living room squealing like a girl when the clock ran out of time, that final score etched in history?
Did I happen to mention just how lucky the numbers 7 and 3 can be?
Yeah, I thought I forgot to mention that.
Oh, by the way, the wings were great! :)
— Gee Vee
Sunday, February 1, 2009
The Fixer-Upper
We've heard it a thousand times. "Nothing good ever comes easy." But do we really believe it?
Several years ago, Dan and I started to wonder about the number of young people who walked straight out of college and right into a brand-spankin'-new McMansion with an affluent address. How did they do it? We certainly couldn't afford the luxury home, the high-end SUVs with heated leather seats and private daycare schools for our toddler when we were just starting out.
Well, okay, they probably didn't even have heated leather seats way back then, but you catch my drift, right? Dan and I started married life in little more than a shack. The tiny cottage was the classic "fixer-upper,"— and for the next twelve years, that's exactly what we did. First came a small addition that we built ourselves-- room for the baby on the way. Our parents all pitched in to help, and by the time I came home from the hospital with Jamie, we were able to put her to bed in her own pretty little room. The sunny yellow paint on the walls was barely dry, and she literally took her first nap at home with the sound of the skill saw buzzing in the hallway outside her door as Dan and Grandpa moved on to the next project. When I worried the racket would wake the baby, Grandma poo-pooed my concerns and assured me that "she'd better get used to it." She was right.
By the time we sold the house twelve years later, it was a story-book cottage. I confess, I often wish we still had that house. It was beautiful. But we took the profit from its sale and used it for a substantial down payment on the new house. Once again, we built it ourselves from the ground, up. While working full-time jobs, we labored weekends and evenings for over a year constructing the dream house on ten wooded acres we'd paid for over time on a land contract.
Jamie worked with us. In fact, I remember coming "home" from work one Saturday afternoon to find Dan and Jamie up on top of the steep, second-story roof. Jamie was twelve at the time and scampering around like a little monkey as she passed shingles to her dad. If only protective services could see us now, I groaned in despair; we'd still be prison today, I've no doubt. The two just laughed down at me and finished roofing the house.
We've recently witnessed the collapse of the sub-prime mortgage fiasco. As record foreclosures are forcing families from their homes, I begin to understand how so many young people were able to afford those beautiful homes Dan and I could only envy at their age. I thank my lucky stars our locally-owned bank made the mortgage application process we'd endured such a stringent obstacle course.
This weekend Jamie harvested an old dilapidated dresser from their basement. She needed more storage space for Collin's baby clothes. For the price of new hardware, contact paper drawer liner and some acrylic paints she had on hand, she "made do" rather than turn up her nose and run out to "buy new."
You know, I have a feeling this is one lesson she didn't learn at college.
Several years ago, Dan and I started to wonder about the number of young people who walked straight out of college and right into a brand-spankin'-new McMansion with an affluent address. How did they do it? We certainly couldn't afford the luxury home, the high-end SUVs with heated leather seats and private daycare schools for our toddler when we were just starting out.
Well, okay, they probably didn't even have heated leather seats way back then, but you catch my drift, right? Dan and I started married life in little more than a shack. The tiny cottage was the classic "fixer-upper,"— and for the next twelve years, that's exactly what we did. First came a small addition that we built ourselves-- room for the baby on the way. Our parents all pitched in to help, and by the time I came home from the hospital with Jamie, we were able to put her to bed in her own pretty little room. The sunny yellow paint on the walls was barely dry, and she literally took her first nap at home with the sound of the skill saw buzzing in the hallway outside her door as Dan and Grandpa moved on to the next project. When I worried the racket would wake the baby, Grandma poo-pooed my concerns and assured me that "she'd better get used to it." She was right.
By the time we sold the house twelve years later, it was a story-book cottage. I confess, I often wish we still had that house. It was beautiful. But we took the profit from its sale and used it for a substantial down payment on the new house. Once again, we built it ourselves from the ground, up. While working full-time jobs, we labored weekends and evenings for over a year constructing the dream house on ten wooded acres we'd paid for over time on a land contract.
Jamie worked with us. In fact, I remember coming "home" from work one Saturday afternoon to find Dan and Jamie up on top of the steep, second-story roof. Jamie was twelve at the time and scampering around like a little monkey as she passed shingles to her dad. If only protective services could see us now, I groaned in despair; we'd still be prison today, I've no doubt. The two just laughed down at me and finished roofing the house.
We've recently witnessed the collapse of the sub-prime mortgage fiasco. As record foreclosures are forcing families from their homes, I begin to understand how so many young people were able to afford those beautiful homes Dan and I could only envy at their age. I thank my lucky stars our locally-owned bank made the mortgage application process we'd endured such a stringent obstacle course.
This weekend Jamie harvested an old dilapidated dresser from their basement. She needed more storage space for Collin's baby clothes. For the price of new hardware, contact paper drawer liner and some acrylic paints she had on hand, she "made do" rather than turn up her nose and run out to "buy new."
You know, I have a feeling this is one lesson she didn't learn at college.
