music

It just dawned on me...

If people with APD have trouble hearing pitch and other musical
nuances (even going so far as to NOT APPRECIATE music because it's not
processed well in the first place!) then...

WHAT AM I MISSING?!

I get a heck of a lot out of music, I really do... a lot more than
many people do. Is it that I'm so far improved that I'm aware of so
much? Or am I still missing important pieces, even when I'm fully
alert and listening in otherwise complete silence?

I was just listening to Gravity by Vienna Teng and realized that MANY
of the words she sings have no similarity to the words I know she's
singing. I always felt she sang fairly clearly, but... at the current
volume, with me feeling sleepy, it's darned near impossible for me to
hear /exactly/ what she's singing.

"hayla, is that the name you're meant to have, for me to call, the
lookeylah, we've given up believin', we've turned aside our stories of
our gentle fog/fawd/fawn"

There are a /lot/ of things there that I'd have misheard were it not
for context and printed lyrics, which I distinctly recall reading
several times, memorizing. I can still picture the words as she
sings, as if I'm following along.

"So don't turn away now, I am turning in revolution, these are the
scars that silence called on me... This is the sayin' place, no not
the saying place, this is the sayin' place no, no not the saying place
we've been before, hayla, I am a constant satellite of your blazing
sun/son/song, milo, I ill be your law of gravity..."

yeah, okay, but I /am/ tired. Still, if I can easily tell what I
"hear" despite knowing what she is "singing" then what am I missing
due to NOT knowing ahead of time?

~whimpering me~

CAPD version 18763

Yep, back on this subject...

--- from http://www.ldonline.org/article/6390#anchor528829 :

Phonological awareness

Phonological awareness is the understanding that language is made
up of individual sounds (phonemes) which are put together to form the
words we write and speak. This is a fundamental precursor to reading.
Children who have difficulty with phonological awareness will often be
unable to recognize or isolate the individual sounds in a word,
recognize similarities between words (as in rhyming words), or be able
to identify the number of sounds in a word. These deficits can affect
all areas of language including reading, writing, and understanding of
spoken language.

Though phonological awareness develops naturally in most
children, the necessary knowledge and skills can be taught through
direct instruction for those who have difficulty in this area.
---

My comments:
Unless visual abilities are pronounced and can compensate for the
Auditory Processing deficits. I /know/ this, because of the memory I
have of my mother reading to me when I was a child. Seeing her finger
sliding across the page, pointing at the squiggly lines and the
pictures, the mild change in tone of voice... I had no bloody clue
what her voice was doing other than indicating a change, some sort of
accentuation. But somehow I figured out that the squiggles were
symbolic of the pictures, and I learned to read.

The reason I know that I learned the words separately from the sounds
at first is because I've read many, many words which I hear much later
in life and go, "How do you spell that?" When it's spelled, I
immediately recognize it and understand its meaning from past written
contexts. The second reason is less certain, but still pretty darned
certain. That would be the lack of sound in my head as I read and
write. Sometimes I do hear soft whispers nowdays, but in the past it
was always silence or pictures. Mostly it was a dark void, two-
dimensional, as if the pictures needn't exist along with the concepts.

Query #1: Did I see auras so prominently as a child because of the
APD? I don't see them as frequently now, and I also have less trouble
understanding people than I used to.

Query #2: Why haven't I seen more connexions between APD relief and
musical studies?

Anywho, just some ponderings.

~me

sensory overload

An email I just wrote a friend. I enjoyed writing it because of the
images that floated through my head as my fingers moved across the
keyboard, and realized that perhaps I'm in one of _those_ moods. So,
I'll share this tidbit.

--- Regarding a teapot and teacup that was gifted to me a few years
ago: ---

You know, I realize this was a years-ago gift at this point, but it's
one I still appreciate just about every day. The cup is just the
right size, perfect colour, and perfectly balanced in its weight. The
pot I find to be of similar design as far as weight and colour, and
it's an excellent spot to store tea while I drink my first cup or
two. It's also good for guests when everyone's good with one kind and
strength of tea. (I have come to find the great majority of our
guests do not deviate from bagged teas anyway, so this point is hardly
ever an issue anyway, and my mother-in-law, who loves Ceylon Sonata as
much as I do, thinks my brew perfect for her taste.)

Note that I tend to use the teapot mostly in conjunction with the
Ingenuitea infuser that Dale got me... i.e., I use the teapot more as
a decanter than for brewing; the brewing is left to the infuser, which
is truly ingenious in its design.

The reason this gratitude has snuck in so strongly this morning is
because I've been browsing other teawares while sipping a third round
of Da Hong Pao from the little teacup. On and off I've tried to find
something that's exactly what I might want, and I cannot find anything
nicer than what I have. I have found some pots with infusers, and
cups with infusers - nice ideas, admittedly - but they're either too
large or I don't like the style/colour. I like the simplicity
inherent in what I've got, and the colour is exactly right. Probably
the closest I've got to proximity would be the Bodum pots with the
infusers. But even those somehow lack the grace the green one exhibits.

So, once more, thanks for such an awesome gift. The only reason I
continue to poke around, I think, is because I want to find just the
right thing for work. Alas, I simply don't see this happening anytime
soon. There's simply something to be said for a warm pot of tea
sitting on the table waiting to refill the cup, and the more I think
about it, the more I realize that I am seeking an impossible
collaboration of convenience and sensory fulfillment.

Funny thing, as I get older, I tend to appreciate warmth and
simplicity over streamlined chaos. This, even though my habit of
overlooking chaos has yet to diminish thoroughly enough to put things
away in a more timely manner. Right now my desk is full of braille
books, gadgets, and little slips of paper, and it is bugging the
absolute CRAP out of me because there, amidst the clutter, sits the
perfect cup of tea, lost in the insanity of my self-fulfilling life.
Its neighbours at the moment consist of a mouse from last night's
gaming, two bottles of ink, netflix rentals, a camera, my work badge,
a crumpled-up dollar bill, a half-eaten chocolate bar (which I'm
surprised has not attracted cat fur yet), an earring, two pens, cookie
cutters, parchment, and the aforementioned items. Gah. This is only
a few days' worth of clutter, mind you. At least I now clear my desk
twice a week, which is more than I could say for the me from a year ago.

--- end of email ---

poached eggs

Speaking of heaven, I just consumed the best breakfast I have had in a
very long time.

A second infusion of Da Hong Pao tea, a PERFECT poached egg (I've
finally got it, I reckon!!), two slices of moderately buttered toast,
and a clementine.

I don't know what a "good" poached egg is "supposed" to be like, but I
do know that after at least a dozen attempts at them and a few video-
watchings online, I created the best one I've made yet. I have
learned that you heat the water so there's steam and little bubbles at
the bottom of the pot. It needs about two to three inches of water in
a pot large enough to comfortably swirl water in. You add 2 teaspoons
of vinegar (or thereabouts). Then you stir the water so it's very
swirly, and before it slows too much, you drop in the egg. The
vinegar supposedly helps to keep the white from drifting into bits and
the swirling motion wraps it around itself, helping to keep it
together in a neat little package. I then turn the heat down below
halfway and move the pot so the egg's resting spot is not directly
over the burner. This keeps the water hot without searing the egg to
the bottom of the pot, you see. I figured that one out myself after
ripping the thing apart so the yolk flowed - against my will - into
the water rather than onto my toast.

Oh, and then... you let it sit there for ten minutes, or to desired
consistency. Ten minutes seems to be perfect for me.

Last time I did this, it was pretty good. Today, however, I added two
final steps: Once the egg was done, I dumped it into a bowl of ice
water and made my toast. When the toast was ready, I dumped the bowl
of ice water (and egg) into the hot water to re-heat the egg.

Supposedly, the ice water "sets" the egg so it's easier to handle.
Restaurants apparently do this so they have eggs on hand when they're
ordered. It's easy for them to re-heat the eggs. I think this
setting action MADE my eggs perfect this morning. Mmm MMMMM!!

OH and I'll tell you, Da Hong Pao is AWESOME...

kitty cat cut

Dale was shooting a video of Kitty playing with a catnip toy and I
tried to help by getting her to face his way. In doing so, I
inadvertently put my thumb in harm's way and Kitty snagged a ragged
half-inch gash in its fleshy, sensitive little pad. Right in the
center. OW! I exclaimed, pulling it back (which likely caused the
majority of the tear).

I feel _very_ bad for mice and moles. They don't have stuff like
Neosporin and bandaids, nor are they big enough to clobber their
attacker should it be a-purpose. In this situation it was obviously
not a-purpose. Kitty was merely playing and didn't mean it, but
nonetheless I will admit that as I nursed by throbbing thumb I did
cast several dirty looks in her general direction.

~nv

Poem: Black Eternal

BLACK ETERNAL
2009120822 c2009 WLC

I sit surrounded by love
Love sits, too, around the corner
Music fills this tiny room
This tiny room I call my mind

If I think hard, I still remember
The sweet escape within the ink
These days the joy just wants to hide
Afraid of being left behind

But now and then, the fancy strikes
I see the Braille, my paints, and then
The stack of paper, a dipping pen
Somehow calls the Muse again

I feel the bumps beneath my fingers
Sense the feeling in the paint
See the softly glowing pages
Alive with thoughts borne in my den

There they are, dancing here, across the page
Gently sculpted in Black Eternal
Perhaps the pages dry and crumble
Or make their way through Time Immortal

Like my love for you.

Poem: Ode To The Corner Store

ODE TO THE CORNER STORE
2009120821 c2009 WLC

I love the corner store
For now and eve more
We live just down the street
And walk there in the heat
We've gone there in the snow
And baby, don't you know
We love the corner store

One night I wanted sour cream
I could have thought it but a dream
But with a skip and jump and hop
I wandered up to the historic shop
Where the sign hangs proudly in the back
Some people never seem to lack
The Spirit of the American Dream

It may rain, and it can pour
But we'll be walking through that door
To by some eggs or milk or meat
Or potato chips to eat
From our house, just one stone's throw
And fellow shoppers, don't you know
We love our corner store!

honey/vinegar

I'm reading a somewhat older Vermont Folk Medicine book (I think it's
early to mid 1900's). One of the things it mentioned was a concoction
I'm quite familiar with, but with water added. I never thought to mix
it with water.

2 tablespoons each of apple cider vinegar and honey [typically I hear
"raw" honey but it can be difficult to come by]
Mix this in a glass of water and drink it, with or without meals. In
the book, it was said that some people drink it at all three meals.
I've also read that it's excellent when drunk chilled on a hot day,
sort of like lemonade.

The one caveat the book has not mentioned to my point in the reading
is that vinegar can be bad for teeth. I read online somewhere that to
minimize the possibility of damaging teeth, you can rinse your mouth
with water afterward. I'd think this is good practice anyway to
dislodge food particles if you're like me and don't like to brush
right after a meal (which to me ruins the fun of eating). If I
remember right, the acid in the vinegar reacts with the calcium in the
enamel of the tooth, and weakens it. It makes sense to me because if
you put vinegar on marble (which is also heavily infused with
calcium), it can eat through the stuff and at the very least, make a
horrible scar on it.

I don't tend to hold 100% stock in folk medicine, but I think that
before the doctors of today, people were generally more instinctive
and likely had a LOT of household remedies that did help with many
things. (I don't believe our current science is the ONLY science or
that it's infallible, either.) Additionally, many of /their/ ills
were likely due to both lack of medical/scientific understanding and
nutrition. Today, we don't suffer from many of their problems such as
plague, measles, scurvy, etc, but I think by and large our populace
has forgotten many of its collectively learned remedies. Over the
years I've found that some remedies /seem/ to work, and at the very
least, they don't hurt to try. So, when I woke up with a sore throat
shortly before our Thanksgiving weekend a couple weeks ago, I went all
out on the remedies I had tried in the past. I didn't get sick after
all. Maybe I wouldn't have. But I do know that the honey and vinegar
trick has saved me from sore throats several times, so while I don't
believe in everything I read or hear, I do tend to think those two
items indeed have value. I have strong faith in Garlic, as well.
Particularly raw.

One thing I find interesting about the book is that it mentions how
before the age of 25, the human body tends to require far different
nutrients than it does later, because before 25, the human body is
still building its systems. After that, it merely needs to maintain
them. From my own experience, I think the body goes through many
stages of requirements. As a child, I was very finicky, as my mother
could tell you. At first I ate everything she gave me, then I went
through a year or so of eating little to nothing (yet I was growing at
a good clip). At one point I would eat meat as if there were no
tomorrow, then abruptly, I wouldn't touch the stuff for years, or,
very little of it, and it had to be just right or it sat on the
plate. When I moved out on my own, I often tried eating hot dogs, but
it never seemed right to me somehow and now I have trouble eating
those, too, if not just the right kind and cooked just right. I got
into a junk food phase and then in my mid-twenties, I craved steak and
potatoes by spurts, which continued for a few years. Interspersed
with that was a need for fish, chicken, and rice with lots of frozen
veggies mixed in. (This is how many of my rice dishes were born.)
Then I met Dale and we discovered Indian food, and now I'm getting
more into tomatoes to a small extent, and I love the medleys of
spices. Thai has crept in there. I love variety. Lately it's been
Wendy's burgers and at home, rice, eggs, frozen veggies... the rice
dishes continue to draw my appetite.

So, tastes do change drastically over the years of one's life, it
seems. My mother admitted this to me herself but she tends to stick
with what she knows and is limited in her ventures out of fear for the
unknown. Me, I don't mind sitting on the toilet for a couple of days
if it means I have found a new spice to love. Granted, Mother was
right when she told me I have in the past tended to overindulge in
newly discovered foods. The curried rice when I was in my teens is a
very well-known example. I wasn't kidding about two days on the toilet.

Oh, and tea - I LOVE that stuff. I have noticed a few things,
though. First, I tend to drink the oolongs and blacks far more than
the greens, and most of the time they're all laden with caffeine.
Generally I do not touch decaf anything unless it's naturally lacking
the stuff. BUT. Despite all supposed health benefits from drinking
tea, it is one of those things that should be combined with lots of
water. The stuff is a major diuretic. Here are some things I've
noticed most when I get into my tea phases: My face turns kind of
ashen, like the blood refuses to rise to the surface, or there isn't
enough water in it. I pee a lot more and sometimes my sides have very
minor aches in them, as if my kidneys are working far harder than they
should be. I get headaches, as I just discovered. And finally, I
feel very dry - my skin, especially, but also some sort of inner sense
that fluid is lacking. If I limit myself to a small cup per day, I
don't notice these things quite as much, but more than that and
inevitably I see the signs.

EGGS! I love eggs. One or two eggs in the morning, with a small cup
of tea, a slice of toast, and a small bit of corn mush... this seems
to make me very alert until lunch. Tea alone is energizing but it's
more of a high than it is an overall sense of purpose. "They" are
right about breakfast - people do better when they have it. And I've
found that even at early hours, I can take an egg most of the time.
Speaking of which, even the folk medicine book mentions those
things... they have everything needed to build a chicken, so they're
powerhouses of nutrition.

Anywho, I don't know where I was going with all this. Perhaps I'm
just finger-blabbing. LOL I think that if it were not this day and
age of computers, I would likely have learned everything there is to
know about plants through much experimentation and note-taking.
Perhaps one of those medicine peoples, as it were.

~w

Recipe: Leftover Turkey Soup

This is of course an approximation, since I never measure sh** when
I'm cooking. Still, I've made this twice in the past week (we had a
LOT of leftover turkey) and Dale and I LOVE the stuff. So, I thought
I'd jot it down for posterity, exactitude or no.

You will need:
A biga** pot
Water
Kasha

Carrots
Potatoes
Celery

Salt
Chicken Bouillion powder (or cubes)

Pepper
Curry Powder
Thyme
Parsley
Rosemary
Coriander (I like to grind my own, coarsely)
Lemongrass (the dried, ground kind)
Cardamom seeds (removed from outer shell and ground up)
Hoisin Sauce
Leftover Turkey
Leftover Turkey Drippings/gravy (include the fat!! yumyum) (about a
half-cup to a cup or more, depending on taste and how much soup you're
making)

01. Dump some water in the pot. Dump in some kasha. Don't worry
about making the kasha right because you'll had enough liquid to keep
it going. Turn it up to medium or so and let it start boiling while
you start working on other crap. Keep an eye on the water level, make
sure it stays liquidy.
02. Chop up some carrots and dump 'em into the boiling water/kasha as
you go.
03. Chop up some celery and dump it in.
04. Peel and then chop up some taters, dump 'em in. Again, make sure
the water level is at boiling, not too thick.
05. Sprinkle in some chicken bouillion powder and some salt. Not /
too/ much. The Bouillion is for added flavour; the salt can be added
later if there's not enough to begin with.
06. Continuing to watch the water level, pull apart the Leftover
Turkey and chop it up however you like. I steer clear of the fatty
areas and grisly parts, and of course, I never put in bone. (Who does?)
07. Add the remaining ingredients, including the drippings/gravy.
Here's an approximation of what I do:

For one big handful of chopped turkey, I do about 1 tablespoon of
curry powder, some freshly ground pepper (to taste), and 1/2 to 1 tsp
each of the other "bottled" spices. I add 2 tsp of the Hoisin Sauce.
Cardamom, probably two seeds. For each consecutive handful of turkey,
I add one more helping of all of the above.

I also start with one potato, one carrot (or sevenish baby carrots),
and one-two stalks of celery, and increase based on amount of turkey.

Turn down the heat to 1/4 the heat, and let it sit there for about 20
minutes. Stir now and again and add water to thin it out a bit as
needed.

YUM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

painting

I was watching Dale paint the bathroom and suddenly the painting bug
hit me. It's not perfect, and the colouring's off (which is REALLY
REALLY hard to do!!) but I'm quite proud of the eyes. I was surprised
by the one ear I did, too; I thought it would be harder than it was.
I think I worked on Sinclair for about two hours, mainly because I
slapped some paint around before settling into doing the eyes, then
once I had one of them in, I thought, OMG, I've gotta get serious here
and fix this... and then realized I needed to reconstruct the nose,
which was way too long. For a while, he looked like a one-eyed wolf,
then a Sinkie-Wolf, and now he just needs a bit more work to make him
back into just plain Sinclair.

Currently, I still have work to do on the nose, left ear, and the
lower part of his face, but for the most part, it's him. Note that
this is him in his full ruff and then some. I'll need to trim his
face down a bit to make it more realistic. The important part is that
I captured the essence of him!! :)

pianos

I keep going back and forth on whether I should get a new keyboard or
not. If I were to buy one, I'd want a really really nice one, one
that sounds a lot like a piano, has 88 keys, and weighted keys,
amongst less important features. However, I keep noticing in life
that sometimes waiting and buying something seemingly "too expensive"
or "too difficult" is really the better way to go, rather than getting
something cheaper/more portable/more numerous and later being
immensely dissatisfied with it. So, I'm slowly coming to the
conclusion that perhaps a new keyboard is not my answer, but rather, a
piano. This brought about a new problem. Would I be happy with an
upright? Do I only want a grand because they look so cool?

Consequently, I have recently read about some concerns over grands vs
uprights.

Speed. This is, by far, an issue for me right up front. As soon as I
read about it, memories sprung forth of a few pianos I have had the
pleasure of pounding on a bit. I've played a several uprights over
the years, and only one or two grands. By play, I mean, I got to
pound out a few songs that I'd memorized on my keyboards, one of which
is decently fast, because I created it; it's simple, and my fingers
like to _move_. Apparently the keys on an upright MUST return to the
original position before you can re-depress them. Grands, on the
other hand, do not. I remember at least one upright preventing my
song from going full speed ahead, and it felt to me that the keys were
taking _forever_ to come back up. The grand, on the other hand,
seemed very responsive to my touch, as weak as it was.

Tone. I want a nice, mellow tone, with a good range. To date, most
uprights I've played seemed tinny or harsh compared to the grands,
which are gentler-sounding.

Size. I knew size to be important, but figured a small baby grand was
always better than an upright because the strings were horizontal and
so was the sounding board. Plus, there's the cover that you raise
that lets some of the sound out! Well, I was wrong. Grands smaller
than 5' are not worth getting for the most part if you want good
sound. Many uprights will actually sound better. So, that told me
that I'd have to have at least a 5'1" piano or else I'd be unhappy.

Room size. This is why I'd want an upright over a grand. However,
with all I've read, I'd be willing to sacrifice more room to a 6'
grand rather than put up with harsher tones in an upright combined
with the less responsive nature of one.

Now, the question is, where the heck would I put this thing? Assuming
we stay in this house for some time, anything larger than a 6' would
be silly due to room size. That's a given. The room I current use as
my den would likely be best. That would mean moving my computers
around significantly. I can deal with that. I think I have a spot in
mind, then.

When?! Well, considering the pricetag (probably $12K unless I find a
good used one), I'd say several years after the house is paid off.
This might be a while. However, I'll think about it for a few years
and get back to you on that. After all, the house will be paid off
much faster than originally expected...

~nv

art of mary fran lloyd

http://www.theartofmaryfranlloyd.com/

Some neat stuff!!

Poem: The Page

THE PAGE
2009111241 - c2009 WLC

A twist of metal, shimmering
A twist of hope is glimmering
Sparkles catch like prisms split
Dazzling rainbow colours lit

Gliding by, another year
Quickly fading was my fear
Much has happened, never know
Tears dry quickly as we go

On the emptiness of space
Words of love emblazoned here
Feel our heartbeats gently race
Sensing things is oddly queer

In my book of life, ties scattered
Slowly do I build this house
Filled with distant, loving chatter
More silent even than a mouse

Across the pink hues of the sky
Slowly do I say goodbye
For one day as I head home
Seldom am I now alone

Surrounding me, the stars
In the sparkles of your eyes
Time immortal loves you more
Oh, how fast it seems to fly

Know the reasons when I cry
Are but wounds that seek to dry
When you don't feel on the page
Look beyond the saddened rage

And listen for the well of silence
Dripping tears for what's to be
Look into my eyes, you'll see
You are so much more to me

Helpful tip # 34,267: Earrings vs SD case

On my desk: 1 empty SD card case and 1 pair of small hoop earrings.

As I absentmindedly packed the earrings into the case and latched it,
I realized this might be a good travel case. So, there's your tip for
the day. What began as boredom soon became inspiration.

~w

desk, wow, cool desk!!

http://www.designtoscano.com/product/furniture/desks/the+captain%26rsquo-s+davenport+desk+-+af2016.do#

correction on hamster link explanation

Uh... dude... the DUDE is cool... I saw a picture of a hand early on
and thought it was a woman... but clearly it's a guy!! lol

Way cool cage setup (http://hamstertracker.com/Cage0010.html) too with
the treadmill. Dale and I have been talking about ways of doing this
ourselves, so to see one might be helpful.

This came about because Dale asked if Pippin could have peanuts (yes)
after I realized it might be best if the rats didn't have them... man,
the sites that are out there!!

In the meantime, I'd also found a few sites about rats and the various
toys people give them. Most of them I'd already tried, but one I
hadn't thought of was tying string to food and hanging it from the top
of the cage. I had one of the rats going after it but they gave up
since there was easier food to get to.

Hamster Gourmet Food

http://hamstertracker.com/Cookin4LucyDetail.html#SimplePasta

I think the lady's a genius. Geeky, too.

Poem: Condemnation

CONDEMNATION
2009103101 - c2009wlc

Last night I was angry
Without knowing why
I wanted to scream
And I wanted to cry

As the evening wore on
I found music instead
I poured out emotions
I thought would be dead

I couldn't touch wine
When I was having my meat
Bitter, did it taste
Then I fell asleep

And when the morning light was dawning
My brain already was awake
Churning thoughts, disrupting the waters
Of a somewhat calm lake

This morning I cried
A heavy heart pumping tears
I was soaked through and through
As slowly it dawned
That it was about you

Some good may have come from this
But to save that little girl
I'd shed many more tears
And never know them at all

Samhain's here today
The walls between us might be thin
It doesn't mean I'll let you haunt me
For in the spring new growth begins

~nv

"Sometimes I just hold you, too caught up in me to see I'm holding a
fortune that Heaven has given to me." -Richard Marx, "Now And Forever"

Sick Critters

At noon I've got an appointment with Dr. Vet to perform surgery on
Rikki and another shot for Lisa and Pippin. Rikki's got a large
tumour, Lisa's got a little one he's hoping might be just an infection
(highly doubt it on my part) and Pippin's nose area is apparently
inflamed because she's got rhinitis. I noticed that over the last
week when I first thought I saw a scab like thing spreading across the
top of her muzzle. I switched bedding and it looked like it was
clearing up but I took her in anyway just to make sure and also
because I thought she had drank way too much water one day (which
sounded all too familiar due to my last hamster). Just a day or two
ago, I also noticed she was very jumpy - i.e., if I touched her, she'd
flip around like she really didn't like it, which is odd for her.
That behaviour had existed pretty much from the time I'd had Tsia, and
I figured it was because she wasn't tame enough, but three months
later, she still wasn't tame and then died. I'd wager for Pippin that
the original scabbing issue /was/ the bedding and there were
complications from the sensitivity. I was using ComfortCare which I
realized was SOFTwood. Even though it didn't state it, it's probably
pine and cedar - both bad for little creatures' noses. I don't
understand why they sell the stuff. She's got paper towels right now
and will be switched to the Aspen I used to use (which I just found
again at the pet shop, yay!) once things have cleared up. Dr. Vet
says the shots will clear up any UTI as well, if she does have one,
but he was positive of the rhinitis. (It's like a sinus infection.)

As for Lisa, I hope he's right about her swollen mammary, but I'm
being careful not to place much hope on the shots he's giving her in
an attempt to stave off whatever he called it. He says if the lump
doesn't go away after the shots, she'll need surgery, too, because it
will be a tumour after all. I'm glad for his knowledge, because
obviously shots are easier on them than surgery, so it's worth a
shot. The tumours do grow quickly but I've a feeling he's got a
timeline in mind and won't let it get any bigger than it can in a
prescribed number of days. At the very least, I'm sure he can get her
in right away if I see the thing grow /more/.

I have no idea what all this is gonna cost but I'm NOT watching
another rat die of that crap again. Nor am I having a hamster just up
and die, either. All three of them are way too young to be getting
inflictions such as these!

Sibling Rivalry

Or rather, lack thereof.

Over the past week or so, I "met" one of my half-brothers. When I
first found him on Facebook, I'd been scanning for known names and
recognized his. A glance over at his photo short-circuited my brain.
I thought, "What the -- I never had hair /that/ short! And who the
heck are those people with me? I don't recognize -- oh!!" Indeed,
there's a resemblance. I was cautious in my approach of him when I
wrote asking about my father's parents' names, but had very little
doubt that he was the right "kid." Okay, so he's not exactly a kid,
any more than I am. LOL.

Things started out decent and cautious enough, I think. He had no
clue who I was and apparently didn't recognize the resemblance right
off. I finally ended up sorta blurting it out because I was getting
nervous that he was skeptical as to why some complete stranger would
be writing him with such detailed information. I didn't want to spook
him! Well, as it's turned out, his siblings didn't know about me,
either, which didn't surprise me. Kinda fun, in a stupid sort of
way: I'm like a skeleton in their closet they didn't even know
about. Never thought I'd exist in that manner but whatever.

Except that my existence doesn't bother them in the least, which I'm
particularly glad for because now one of my half-sisters is writing me
and asking questions in quite the excited manner. I intend to write
back later tonight once I've had a chance to think about the more
important points. (I don't wish to spook /her/ with the overzealous
writing for which I am infamous.) Admittedly, what had started out as
a desire to trace my roots has led me to finding something I never
expected. I don't even know what to call it! I guess I didn't know /
what/ to expect; I'd only hoped that at the very least I'd get the
information I wanted to continue my own research on family lines. My
worries were numerous - do I tell him of our common ancestry, or do I
skirt around it to avoid possibly hurting him, in case he didn't know
about me? But I personally prefer the truth and given his line of
questioning, I eventually decided he needed to know. The question was
how to tell him? I couldn't answer that so out it came!

At any rate, I /do/ now want to write both of them. The gentleman
writes honestly, intelligently, and with conviction, as if he has a
decent grasp on writing overall and knows exactly how to convey his
thoughts. (Sidethought: I thought my writing abilities stemmed from
my mother's upbringing and my innate need for expression; could
writing abilities also be partially genetic? Or is mere coincidence
leading to me to think this?) Of course his writing abilities impress
me given my love for the written word. She writes openly with less
precision but with far more energy. I admire that latter piece very
much. It feels like a driving force caught in a whirlwhind. No,
wait, that would be me, lol. You ever see the tasmanian devil
swirling around in his funnel, how his face appears now and then,
clear as day? Interesting sight for those around him, sure, but
imagine what things look like to him! house house house person house
house person rabbit RABBIT?! house house house person house house
person rabbit RABBIT!!! house house house... you get the idea!!

So I need to get ready for work but had to fingerblab here for a bit.
I won't deny it, I'm getting excited about knowing these folks. It's
somewhat familial on one level, but more so, I think it's simply
because they're people I don't know and I like getting to know people
who have the characteristics I've described, let alone people in
general. I hope that once the novelty of having (a) new sibling(s)
wears off, our newfound relationships do not. I further hope that my
assessments of these two people are as sound as my first impressions
usually are, because if so, I've found two gems in this great big
world full of roughcut rock and it will be only to my benefit to know
them and learn new things.

In the meantime, I mustn't forget that Dale exists. I feel that I've
been so caught up in my new thoughts lately that I may be somewhat
ignoring him and I'm trying to make sure I keep my feet on the ground
while I continue to explore this new side-path.

I will also say that "nvnohi" just became a whole lot more applicable.

~w

"The happiest life is that which constantly exercises and educates
what is best in us."
- Hamerton

Beef Stew

There's one slight problem with cooking beef stew in a crock pot overnight.

The scent of bubbling stew keeps drifting in and out of your
consciousness, teasing your digestive organs and making sleep utterly
impossible.

~nv

Poem: Runner

RUNNER
2009092003 - c2009 WLC

A hole in one shoe
Stone in the other
Pays it no heed
As he runs with another

No looking back
Not one single grumble
Listens to music
Unafraid of a stumble

Keeps moving on
Like there's no tomorrow
Tired, though he is
Can't imagine any sorrow

Crossing the street
Crossing the line
Looking up, he just smiles
He's beaten his time

Poem: Fusion

FUSION
2009092002 - c2009 wlc

The chair, it sits, by an open window
The sun cascades upon the floor
Curtains rigid in the breeze
On the table, a chunk of cheese
In the bowl is dipping sauce
Creamy goat's milk, cinnamon
Richard's voice sings to the air
Everything I want

Shapes were shifting with the light
Like our lives, the seasons change
I remember laying on a bedroom floor
Rainbows pulsing through my head
Sunshine spilling its love on me
I was alone then
Only God to guide my way
Now He's given you to me
Set upon a silver platter
All I need to do
Is keep on loving you

I felt the ground beneath my feet
The smell of earth, the rain came down
I laid my head against your breast
Inhaled so deeply Tide HE
I saw reflections of your mother
The trees whipped past us
The streams and ponds would greet us
And we were alone
Dancing in our joys together
And Richard's voice sings to the air
Everything I want

Squishy sand beneath our feet
Without even knowing it you saw me
The scent of garbage lingered still
At times the waterfall is better full
It distracts from what's beneath
But my tears like water fallen
Had begun to only trickle
And exposed was I to you again
And you saw only beauty
In the scene before you
And in your memory is reflection
Of those rocks upon the water
So in the depth of night your hand
Grabbed for mine
And everything just came together
Everything just came together

Poem: Sundown

SUNDOWN
2009092001 c2009 WLC

I overslept this morning
Swept away by dreaming
Walking through the castle halls
Chasing ghosts behind the door
Every time they walked away
I was reaching even more

The leaves were rustling in the trees
We were chased by killer bees
My world crashed down around my feet
Tears were washed into a sea

Despair
It is a horrid feeling
And I vowed to never feel it
Ever again
So when I let it all pass by
And multitudes were lost to me forever
I kept going on my way
And suddenly we were together

The sun was lighting up my keys
Even in the black of night
Now the rain is less appealing
The glare from you has filled my sight

I'm overwhelmed
By a beating in my chest
A life filled up by shining eyes
The birds have taken to their rest

You're like a drug
One that makes me sleep
Sometimes I don't even know
How far under, well, it's so deep

Joy
It is a wondrous thing
And I vowed to never lose it
Ever again
The sun dipped down below the mountains
I watched the final rays
My heart told me, 'twould always be,
Until our final days

Poem: Sweat

*SWEAT*

2009091411 - c2009wlc

Sweat

Trickling down my back

Dripping over the place where I was stung

Yesterday

I cried a sea of tears

And thought that I was drowning

In you

I see a wonderful today

And an even brighter tomorrow coming

In your eyes

A sparkling torrent

From which your quiet joy is dripping

Sweat

pictures say a thousand words

You know, I understand that I had no talent with music.
I understand that I sucked at that, and you were glad, because you had
something I didn't.
My whole life I tried to go my own way and even when I agreed with
you, you simply lorded it over me and wanted me to agree with you more.
Sometimes it felt like the only time I was saved, or OK, or human, was
when I said what you wanted me to say.
Even when you asked me my opinion, it was only so you could go the
other way.
It was as if I was supposed to be a projection of what you wanted to
be and didn't feel like achieving.
So I went my own way.
I did my own thing.
You got mad.
I stopped caring.
Then one day it was as if you finally saw me for the first time.
You appreciated one of my photo books.
You even wanted a copy.
I gave you my only good copy.
I cried because I was so happy that you'd finally accepted me for who
I was.
I couldn't believe you were finally proud of me and would be so proud
that you'd actually say so.
And now you tell me that I'm not as good as some guy who lives where
you wanted me to live and who obviously has more money to throw at his
equipment than I do.
You won't even acknowledge how wonderful you thought my work was.
Once again it is impossible to live up to your expectations.
So, I quit.
Go do it all yourself, and until you do, stop telling me that I'm not
as good as everyone else.
I'm one heck of a strong, smart, talented lady.
You should know.
You're my mother.

attack of the honey bees

Dale and I went for a short hike today and on the way back down the
treacherous path, I stopped several feet behind Dale and listened. I
heard what sounded like a swarm, and since there wasn't anything
around us except rock, air, and path, I looked down at the path.
About two feet from my foot I saw what appeared to be a rotten piece
of wood beneath the path with a hole on the side, sticking out into
the air a bit. Little yellowish-fuzzyish-striped bee things were
popping out of that hole two at a time as if they were pissed. I
should have gone back the way I'd come (there was another route on the
other side) but instead I went forward, over the nest, and for some
stupid reason paused just on the other side of it, starting stupidly
at Dale as the sound of the swarm increased. I think I thought that
standing still would fake them out. Well, I decided that wasn't such
a good idea after all, so I slowly moved away, being careful not to
hit any of them or squish them. Well, they were sufficiently ticked
off and I belatedly realized this so I said, "AH! Dale, they're all
over me!" and as I began to move away more quickly, he stepped towards
me to fan them away (which, also belatedly, we both realized he should
not have done). Just as he moved forward, one of the little fu**ers
stung my back and I screamed as I kicked up my heels and ran
[carefully as this was a treacherous spot of path to NOT be careful
on], then within a second or two my left ring finger began blazing. I
was aware of a bee crawling on my finger and I didn't dare to brush
her off in case she wasn't the original perp, but she was caught by
her own stinger. Just as I was realizing this and brushed her off,
Dale went "OW!" and began running behind me, saying something about
his eye (which in the back of my mind was concerning me a bit, but I
was more concerned that one of us might be allergic, and here we are,
running along the side of a rocky cliff, with a steep and narrow
incline in front of us, and a wire handhold on the other side to worry
about. So I said, "Get over this first, then we can stop and look at
things. And Dale - if you feel your throat start closing up, dammit,
tell me right away." He mumbled his "OK" and then went on about his
eye and my finger was already swelling around my rings, throbbing down
the back of my hand, and my back was screaming in its own blaze of
glory, but we made it up over the little pass and onto a safer path of
rocks within sight of the woods so finally on our descent I looked at
his eye. He'd been stung about an inch below, where the bags usually
form, and sure enough, he had a little swelling going on. He looked
very serious and asked if it would be dangerous. I said, "No. But it
might swell more than that, and it may swell enough where you can't
see out of it a bit. When we get home, cold compresses and advil will
help keep the swelling down but I don't think we need to worry about
it." In the meantime, I tried pulling off my wedding ring and
couldn't. I started back down the rest of the way and Dale says, "You
should get that off while you still can." I said I knew, but I'd wait
until we were sure of our footing, which was only a few more feet. So
when we reached the path, I twisted and pulled until it slid off. His
swelling had already doubled by the time we got to the end of the path
(not that far), and so had my finger. We were both complaining of a
throbbing but my back was fine. I reckon it's because the stinger had
to go through my shirt, and was probably yanked out by my movements,
whereas we had to remove the stingers from his eye and my finger, and
in our haste, probably squeezed the venom in further (I mean, I didn't
see the sac, I just saw a stinger that had to be removed ASAP dammit
the little fu**er!!!) so...

Anywho, I'm truly amazed, that despite my stupidity of pretty much
standing on top of the hive, we only got stung three times throughout
all that. I wasn't sure what they were at the time but I knew a few
things:
1. They came out of a hole in the ground.
2. They sting.
3. The stinger is left behind.
4. They were smaller than the space between my hand and knuckle.
5. They were fuzzy, with dark (black? dark brown?) and yellowish
stripes.
6. They swarm when threatened.
7. They don't chase you once you start running (thank GOD).
8. The sting causes a stinging sensation followed by swelling,
redness, and a throbbing sensation that slowly intensifies for a while
before backing off, and it continues to hurt like this for more than
an hour (so far).
8. Neither of us appear to be allergic enough to them to know we're
allergic to them.

I did some research and, based on pictures alone, determined that it
had to have been a bunch of honeybees. I'd never heard of them making
a home in the ground before, though, so I kept researching, but the
only ground dwellers I could find don't look anything like what we
annoyed. It turns out that honeybees look for openings to 15 litre
cavities, so I can only guess that there was a cavity in the ground
that wasn't obvious from above because by golly, everything else about
their descriptions DO match what we ran across.

We told the guy that maintains the area since he's an older gent and
he keeps a lot of updated signs about the trails. We figured it might
be good to warn folks about, and since he works on the trails, good to
warn /him/ about. He said that he'd found a hive, probably the same
location, about 20 years before and had to kill them off at night when
it's hard to navigate up there. I'm hoping he doesn't try doing that
himself this time at his age. Hard to see combined with that path is
doable, but not too safe. At least he's thoroughly familiar with the
spot, though.

Anywho, we're good other than the continued throbbing. The swelling
stopped on our way home. Dale can see fine, just looks like someone
smacked him under the eye a bit, a litte discoloured. My back still
stings now and then but Dale tells me there's no swelling at all, just
a sizable red patch around the stingsite. My finger, I think, is
probably the worst for the wear, since I use it to type with and it's
very stiff from the swelling. We both popped some Advil and I'm about
to put ice on the finger.

I'm so thankful it's just a throbbing nuisance. Heck, it's not even
as bothersome as a mosquito bite. At least it doesn't itch!

~nv

so.

Sometimes I think I should have been a Gemini like Dale. My interests
move around so fast I can't catch my breath.

Today it's photography interspersed with Cherokee, music, food, tea,
wine, and beads. A few years ago it was computers interspersed with
language, music, painting, archery, and beads. Before that, it was
computers, beads, swimming, language, music, and drawing. Of course
writing was always in there but depending on how many things I'm doing
at once and such, that waxes and wanes with the tides.

Anywho, the problem is that I don't know what I truly wish to focus on
in order to learn one thing inside and out. I'll never get there with
computers because computers change all the time and are so
multi-application that they just add further problems to my
decision-making processes (which have never been great anyway). So I've
accepted that computers are simply my mainstay and outlet to further
creativity, a tool, if you will.

I have one major interest right now that was limited by experience and
knowledge. Now it is primarily limited by finances. Photography. Last
night, my mom sent me this cool website (below for your viewing
pleasure) and said, "I bet you're jealous 'cause he's better than you."

http://www.jimoreillyphoto.com/entry/portland-observatory-portland-maine

That particular shot is the one that started ME on a rampage. I don't
think he's better than me at all. I think he has far superior equipment
than I do for starters, and he has been in or found situations where
these photos were possible (such as those in Ireland and Scotland).
Some of his work, I could have composed better, some I could have done
just as well if I'd been there with him, and some I couldn't do
regardless because I don't have the equipment to do so.

I have been increasingly (and painfully) aware that my camera, as
versatile as it is, IS LIMITED. There is a REASON as to why there are
so many choices for cameras, lenses, filters, and lights where
photography is concerned. I chose my camera based on its practical use
as the most versatile, able camera available to me at the time I bought
it. But there is no camera or lens that can do it all. So, the
frustration I have been increasingly aware of the past year or two has
not been due to my inability to figure out HOW to get my camera to shoot
something like Dale does, it's due to the limitations I've been running
into. Dale's been telling me this all along but I think on some level I
wanted to believe that I could push this camera beyond its limits and
fake the images I've been seeking. (Not working too well.)

Well, Dale's ladybug on the Dew can got me quite flustered. Watching
him shoot a bumblebee that wouldn't sit still ticked me off because I
could hear his shots, wham, wham, wham, wham, while mine was going, "You
want what now? Oh, that? Uh... where'd it go?" Then, Mom sent me the
moon behind the Portland Observatory in Maine. Okay, that's the last
straw. There ain't no way in photographic he** that I could ever do
anything remotely like that with my S5. NO WAY. Further, I had an
inkling that I knew what was missing, but I wasn't sure. "Dale?!
HOW?!" I asked.

Telephoto. Well, but of course. After some reading and additional
lessons by my favourite amateur-photographer-husband, I have a basic but
stronger understanding of how optics work together with the camera to
create results. First, the focal length is important. My S5 goes from
6.0-72.0 mm. I've learned that the 6mm is the piece that permits me the
macro shots I so much adore. The 72mm permits the distance shots that
come in handy when focusing on something farther away and bringing them
up close. What I somehow failed to grasp until today is that the 12x on
my camera means absolutely nothing other than to show how versatile my
camera is. It's simply the max focal length divided by the min focal
length. Without the 12x, if I were knowledgeable enough at the time, I
would have looked at 6-72mm and thought, "Oh, cool! I can take macros
and still get some distance shots with the same lens!" It seems so
obvious to me now. But I cannot get the moon in the same detail as a
building right in front of it. Why? I don't have a lens with a high
enough focal length. Dale said 200mm would do it, but I was reading
that 300mm and higher is best. I know such lenses are longer, heavier,
and of course, far more expensive (the first 300mm Nikkor I looked at
was over 5K). What I didn't understand is why they could focus on a
building AND a very VERY far away moon and bring it right in. I was, as
usual, overcomplicating things.

It's an illusion.

The higher focal length allows you to see things as if they were right
there in front of you, rather than a ways away. It's like a telescope
that lets you see Jupiter. You're still just as far away but suddenly
there it is, clear as day. That means you can go sit atop a little hill
somewheres a half-mile away from the Observatory and still "see" it with
the camera as if it's right there. It also means you can zoom in better
on the moon and its little potholes. But why is the moon so big behind
that Observatory? It's got nothing to do with the camera at this point,
but rather, the perspective. The further from the two items you go
(moon and building), the larger the moon appears compared to the
observatory. Despite the distance between the two objects remaining
constant, the distance between you and them increasing affects how they
are perceived. I think this is all physics or something else I never
understood, but I do understand that this is why telephoto lenses allow
such shots. If you have to be far away from both to get this shot, then
a 72mm lens won't be able to get the shot because it can't make the
building large enough to be worth bothering with.

Which leaves me muttering obscenities to myself, because I can't
*afford* a lens that would permit this. This has, however, heightened
my desire for a DSLR, because I see more uses for one than merely
getting unfocused backgrounds behind my subject of choice or faster
startup and shutter speeds.

Gah. If I weren't so darned responsible, I'd be bankrupt in six months.

The reason I began this post is because it's bothering me that I don't
play more keyboard. I _want_ to play more keyboard, but just looking at
it makes me feel irritable and cranky. Why? I used to get this
sensation of awe just by touching and looking at the keys. The feeling
of wonder and elegance would wash over me like baby powder both soothing
and sticking to a baby's butt. For the past several months I've been
wondering if perhaps it's because I've outgrown my Casio to the point
where I don't want to hear its sound. Could it be? Or am I just too
impatient to learn anything new? I keep telling myself it's the latter.
But this doesn't explain why I take so little pleasure in playing the
things I've got memorized. Well, that's probably because I'm bored with
those, I've played them so many times, I tell myself. But THAT doesn't
explain why it is that I find myself playing them - with excitement - on
the baby grand where my mother works. Or why I found myself drooling as
I played something on a higher-end keyboard at a store recently,
relishing the richer, deeper sound and the responsiveness of the keys.
The more I think about it, the more I realize that it's probably the
keyboard. My ears have been fine-tuning themselves over the years and
now they dislike the aging speakers of a 14-year-old keyboard.

Indeed. If I want to play keyboard any more, I'm going to have to get
rid of the old ones and buy myself a new one. The question for myself
right now is, do I do it right away, or wait until we can have a baby
grand? And if I get a baby grand down the road, will a small one
suffice? Or will I eventually want a larger or better one? I'm so
tired of replacing things as I outgrow them. A large part of me wants
to just save and buy the best up front. But what if I didn't stick with
it? What if I got bored? I might as well just find something better
right now, and merely upgrade in the future when I feel the utter
necessity of it. This must be why people lease cars.

Anywho, I've got pictures to go through. Ciao.

~nv

Engrish

http://science.slashdot.org/story/09/08/28/1147215/Were-In-the-Midst-of-a-Literacy-Revolution

A colleague sent the above link to me, knowing how much I loathe the obvious shift in literacy.  I admit, it offers a different approach as to what and how it is happening, but my basic principles on the subject remain unfettered.

I completely agree that the Internet has changed how people write to each other.  Kids have learned how to [effectively?] communicate with larger audiences through the use of Twitter and Facebook.  They've learned the art of being succinct.  (f u cnt shthnd & engrish mods az b-ing succinct - heck, evn i cn do dat wuz kall3d l33t sp33k b4 yann0.)  However, it is not true that they simply abbreviate and reword things to get their points across to other peeps while online.  They also make gross typos and misspellings, even as they advance into the workplace, regardless of the audience.  Illiteracy may not be occurring, but English is no longer standardized.  I don't believe the Internet is causing this, but it is facilitating it.  Ultimately, the failure to write correctly is due to irresponsibility.  Otherwise, the VERY EASY access to online resources to look up spellings, search for synonyms to better get points across, and - omg (oh my God!), let's not forget the use of spell check!! - would be frequented more often.  But no.  Despite all of the advances brought on by mass collaboration, the tool that is being utilized most appears to be brevity.

A friend of mine told me once that her son was approached by his teacher.  She asked him to stop using such large words in his essays.  He asked why.  She said it was because it made the other students feel bad.  Quite literally, he was being asked to "dumb down" his words rather than encourage others to learn better writing techniques through repeated exposure.  Since many of those kids probably didn't reach much other than Twitter, she was, in effect, purposefully reducing the vocabulary of her students.  In return, the boy could finally talk to his peers.  Ooh, whup dee doo.

"Dumbing" ourselves down for people who complain about the use of "big" words is, to me, like giving welfare recipients more money when they're doing nothing to better themselves.  It's one thing to talk to a specific audience in a certain way to make sure they understand.  It's completely another to eradicate chances of their improvement in a classroom situation.  Especially in an ENGLISH CLASS!!!!!

On another note, I was reading a novel the other day from an authour I've been reading for years, and I found a typo.  When I saw typos on the tables at my workplace, I tried to raise a warning, and no one cared, so I fell silent.  When I saw typos in newspapers, I was scoffed.  When I corrected people, I was told to mind my own business.  When I wrote complete sentences in online gaming chats, I was called a "secretary."  And now, I am still mocked, scoffed, and laughed at for caring about the one language we should all know as Americans who regularly send out e-junk stating that if foreigners don't wanna learn English then send them the f*** back over the border.

Then again, many of the people who do NOT send me such entertaining dribble happen to spell correctly 99.5% of the time.  Imagine that.

Tell me that this is not affecting everyone now, even if everyone doesn't care.  Tell me that it doesn't matter when over half the population no longer knows how to read the fine print on mortgage deeds so they don't get in over their heads.  Tell me it doesn't matter!  I dare you.

~The Tormented English Fairy

Connect to windows share from mac

From http://support.apple.com/kb/HT1568

1. Click the Finder icon in the Dock.
2. Choose Connect to Server from the Go menu (see Note 1).
3. In the address field of the Connect to Server dialog, type the
URL using this syntax (see Note 3):

smb://ServerName/ShareName/

4. Click Connect.

You will be prompted for the workgroup, user name, and password. In
addition to connecting to actual Microsoft Windows computers, you may
also use the Connect to Server dialog to connect to a Macintosh that
is offering Windows File Sharing.

home made soda

We made homemade soda. You combine two litres boiling water with some
honey, teabags, and some sort of fruit (we used blueberries), and let
it steep together a while. Remove teabags, leave everything else
until the water is about room temp (65-85 degrees). Then strain it
into a bottle and add some yeasties. Cap it, let it sit 24 hours
(again at room temp), then refrigerate.

The yeasties devour the sugar (honey) and poop out carbon dioxide,
which essentially carbonates the drink.

I told someone at work about this and they said, "What's the alcohol
content of that?" I evaded the question at first, because I didn't
think there should be and slowly began to wonder myself. "What does
yeast making carbon dioxide actually do, then?" he asks, smiling.
"Uh... well, I guess it sort of ferments... well, there can't be MUCH
alcohol in it...?"

I still didn't think alcohol would be an issue. However, the problem
I have with this drink, now that we've tasted it, is that it tastes
like beer without the beer aftertaste. Needs more honey next time?

Dammit...

~nv

The Internet

I have pretty nearly obliterated an entire day by being online.

I don't even remember where I started. I've played Bubblez; read
about the Glastonbury Festival in Somerset, England; checked out a
bunch of bugs on whatsthatbug.com and bugguide.net; learned of and
researched Lundy Island and Flat Holm; found out that Naples has a
cemetary with 365 pits which are opened once per day to receive a pile
of dead bodies, which are mostly decomposed when each pit is opened a
year later; that some cemetaries feature brick-lined graves that cause
decomposition to happen far more slowly; people who deal with dead
bodies typically have very few illnesses (!); there's something called
Chilblain; infections were called "corruptions" in the early 19th
century; the Pound is currently equal to 1.66 American Dollars; God
only knows what else I stumbled across today in all my click-happy
time-wasting.

But you know what? This has been one of the best, most relaxing days
I've had in quite a while... other than sitting atop Mount Battie in
the mist, that is.

~nv

me vs jimmies

We stopped for ice cream today and I ordered a medium black cherry
cone with jimmies. Dale and I sought shade under a small tree and
stood there as my jimmies began sliding down the side of the melting
ice cream. I immediately began licking them up and chewing. Then
they attacked me full force: As they slid down faster and faster, I
could not keep up with them! They were soon sliding over my four
fingers. I tried to chew faster and lick up the ones sliding toward
the back of my hand, but it was not to be: I began laughing too hard
to get any further licks in!

So there we are, [two adults?] laughing hysterically as people are
driving by, pink ice cream littered with brown blobs running down my
fingers, splattering on the mulch by our feet. I was completely
helpless to the jimmies' plunder of my pride, but, it was pretty funny.

Incidentally, I vowed not to get jimmies again.

~nv

Breakfast vs Caffeine vs Sleep Ratio vs Ovaltine

I have discovered all this week and last that one or more of the
following cause my mind to be particularly alert at work, especially
in the latter part of the day:

Eating one egg and a small handful of blueberries for breakfast
Drinking a half cup of Ovaltine-flavoured milk
Drinking at least one can of Mountain Dew throughout the day
Eating Matzohs with my Mountain Dew at work
Getting six hours of sleep instead of eight (or less)

I've also been taking B-complex vitamins with folic acid and vitamin
C, but not regularly enough to cite it as a cause of my increased
mental focus.

By mental focus, I mean, I pick a task to do and simply do it, rather
than think about doing it for a while and getting sidetracked a
gazillion times and permitting myself to get sidetracked a million
times.

Anywho, gots to gets to works so off I go!! :D

Recipe: Cherry Cloud

Found this one on a can of Lucky Leaf Cherry Pie Filling. It's
difficult to "cut" into serving size pieces but what the hey, it's
tasty, so one pie can be a serving!! (It's pretty heavy, though. LOL)

Dissolve one 3oz package of Lemon Jello and 1/3c sugar in 1c of
boiling water.
Mix in 1/2 cup of COLD water.
Beat in 1c sour cream.
Chill until mixture forms into a mound when dropped with a spoon.
(Like a semisolid Jello I guess)
Pour into 8-inch crust and dump 21oz Lucky Leaf Cherry Pie Filling on
top.
Refrigerate a while.

Serve!! :D

Now, admittedly, when I saw "sour cream" in the mix, I thought,
"That's weird. What does that do for taste, I wonder? Might be crazy
enough to work well!" (It does work very well. The lemon filling is
kinda like a lemon pie. Overall, I'd say it's a lemon pie with cherry
topping. Delish in a graham cracker crust.

~nv
who just wants the lemon filling now, yum!!

Deaf thinking

Very interesting article below, but I disagree with it.

The last part - dreaming in sign - I have done several things in my sleep:  Talk, laugh, cry, scream, toss and turn, stand up, kick, walk around a bit, type, and sign.  I don't know if I've ever spoken in Spanish but it would not surprise me if I had because I tend to replicate in my sleep what I've been fully immersed in learning.  It's mimicry to a great extent, a sort of practice.

I don't believe you have to have language to be able to think.  I suspect thinking is translated seamlessly into language once you grasp it (hence people "hearing themselves think" which I don't usually do unless I'm figuring out how to say something to someone), and if you were able to learn language easily enough, you simply think you think in language and could potentially throw yourself into a lingual "box" because of it.  This is where a person's brain could develop differently, yes, but to not think?  No.

The latter I say because of how I started speaking Spanish.  I immediately understood that Spanish was not a word-for-word comparison to English, which impressed my teacher.  She thought it curious that I could seamlessly translate spanish idioms into their English equivalents.  This is because I understood the underlying principle behind the sayings and could locate the memorized saying in the opposite language.  I wasn't thinking in English or Spanish.  I was translating what I wanted to express into the appropriate language.

This has begun to creep up in Cherokee lately, as well.  I look at Cherokee characters, figure out the pronunciation, and instantly see an image of the word's representation.  I don't hear English in my head first.  That comes when I start typing the translation out.

An additional argument is that sometimes we try to explain something, don't know the word, but still know what we mean even though we cannot express it.  In those instances you are still without language but are still able to think.

----

In what language do deaf people think?

December 26, 2003

Dear Cecil:

In what language do deaf people think? I think in English, because that's what I speak. But since deaf people cannot hear, they can't learn how to speak a language. Nevertheless, they must think in some language. Would they think in English if they use sign language and read English? How would they do that if they've never heard the words they are signing or reading pronounced? Or maybe they just see words in their head, instead of hearing themselves?

— Cathy, Malvern, Pennsylvania

You're on the right track, kid. But first a little detour. Your speculations raise a larger question: Can you think without language? Answer: Nope, at least not at the level humans are accustomed to. That's why deafness can have far more serious consequences than blindness, developmentally speaking. The blind suffer many hardships, not the least of which is the inability to read in the usual manner. But even those sightless from birth acquire language by ear without difficulty in infancy, and having done so lead relatively ordinary lives. A congenitally deaf child isn't so lucky: unless someone realizes very early that he's not talking because he can't hear, his grasp of communication may never progress beyond the rudiments.

The language of the deaf is a vast topic that has filled lots of books--one of the best is Seeing Voices: A Journey Into the World of the Deaf by Oliver Sacks (1989). All I can do in this venue is sketch out a few basic propositions:

The folks at issue here are both (a) profoundly and (b) prelingually deaf. If you don't become totally deaf until after you've acquired language, your problems are . . . well, not minor, but manageable. You think in whatever spoken language you've learned. Given some commonsense accommodation during schooling, you'll progress normally intellectually. Depending on circumstances you may be able to speak and lip-read.

About one child in a thousand, however, is born with no ability to hear whatsoever. Years ago such people were called deaf-mutes. Often they were considered retarded, and in a sense they were: they'd never learned language, a process that primes the pump for much later development. The critical age range seems to be 21 to 36 months. During this period children pick up the basics of language easily, and in so doing establish essential cognitive infrastructure. Later on it's far more difficult. If the congenitally deaf aren't diagnosed before they start school, they may face severe learning problems for the rest of their lives, even if in other respects their intelligence is normal.

The profoundly, prelingually deaf can and do acquire language; it's just gestural rather than verbal. The sign language most commonly used in the U.S. is American Sign Language, sometimes called Ameslan or just Sign. Those not conversant in Sign may suppose that it's an invented form of communication like Esperanto or Morse code. It's not. It's an independent natural language, evolved by ordinary people and transmitted culturally from one generation to the next. It bears no relationship to English and in some ways is more similar to Chinese--a single highly inflected gesture can convey an entire word or phrase. (Signed English, in which you'll sometimes see words spelled out one letter at a time, is a completely different animal.) Sign can be acquired effortlessly in early childhood--and by anyone, not just the deaf (e.g., hearing children of deaf parents). Those who do so use it as fluently as most Americans speak English. Sign equips native users with the ability to manipulate symbols, grasp abstractions, and actively acquire and process knowledge--in short, to think, in the full human sense of the term. Nonetheless, "oralists" have long insisted that the best way to educate the deaf is to teach them spoken language, sometimes going so far as to suppress signing. Sacks and many deaf folk think this has been a disaster for deaf people.

The answer to your question is now obvious. In what language do the profoundly deaf think? Why, in Sign (or the local equivalent), assuming they were fortunate enough to have learned it in infancy. The hearing can have only a general idea what this is like--the gulf between spoken and visual language is far greater than that between, say, English and Russian. Research suggests that the brain of a native deaf signer is organized differently from that of a hearing person. Still, sometimes we can get a glimpse. Sacks writes of a visit to the island of Martha's Vineyard, where hereditary deafness was endemic for more than 250 years and a community of signers, most of whom hear normally, still flourishes. He met a woman in her 90s who would sometimes slip into a reverie, her hands moving constantly. According to her daughter, she was thinking in Sign. "Even in sleep, I was further informed, the old lady might sketch fragmentary signs on the counterpane," Sacks writes. "She was dreaming in Sign."

— Cecil Adams

Kitty snores too

a lot

Dreamstates

I've decided to outline this in more detail than mere mentions, mostly
for my own "compleat reference" should I ever want this list again.

Note: I have no sleeping disorders. But I do have a very strong and
creative dreamstate that often enjoys intermingling with my waking
state, as outlined below.

1. When I get tired, I literally have five minutes or less to get my
butt in bed or I fall asleep wherever I am. It's reminiscent of
narcolepsy, but it isn't that, because it generally occurs only around
my bedtime and when it doesn't it's when I did NOT sleep very well for
a few days. I am fully aware (often I can still hear what's going on
around me) when this occurs but can do nothing to stop it.

2. I've dreamt while I was still awake, and often I'm aware that I'm
asleep. When I was a kid, I was tested for epilepsy after seeing
shapes dancing around when I was awake, but they ruled it out saying
maybe I'd grow out of it. Now I know it was my dreamstate
experimenting with daylight.

3. Once I adjust to a sleeping schedule, I can wake up one minute
before the alarm goes off, or I can wake up and think, "Three, two,
one..." [alarm sounds]

4. The one sleeping schedule I can't seem to adjust to is staying up
all night, regularly. My body prefers to wake up naturally to
creeping daylight, which is actually pretty normal I think.

5. I've occasionally focused on a problem before bed and had the
answer appear to me while I'm sleeping. When this occurs, I'm very
aware of what the answer is for and that I need to remember it, and I
do.

6. I can sometimes control my dreams (lucid dreaming). It tends to
happen in spurts - i.e., a few nights in a row with long spells in
between. I suspect that for me it depends on current interests.

7. Most of my dreams are vivid, colourful, silent, emotionless, and
very symbolic. Typically I feel like I'm an observer, even when
participating; the participation is how I find information to
observe. Conversations can exist but I don't hear them or see mouths
moving; I only get the understanding of what the person is "saying"
and how I'm responding.

8. I find that remembering my dreams depends on at least one of the
following in my waking life: a) I'm very emotional about something,
regardless of the involved emotion; b) I'm feeling spiritual or having
"ah ha" moments of realisation; c) I'm working on a problem; d) I'm
learning a new subject, idea, etc - i.e., figuring something out; e)
my sleeping schedule is stable.

9. Once I'm asleep, it can be impossible to wake me up. I've slept
through a snake being draped around my neck, loud noises, someone
knocking on my door (which was only about five feet from my sleeping
self), and people shaking me to get me to wake up. However, I will
readily wake up to a fire alarm, alarm clock (usually and only if I
don't wake up before it goes off), and an unfamiliar presence or scent
in the room.

10. I have spoken in my sleep (sometimes carrying on my side of a
conversation I don't later remember), and while I don't recall
actually sleepwalking, I have somehow managed to roll myself up in a
blanket so my arms were bound to my sides, then fell asleep bent up so
half of my weight was on the top of my head. That time I honestly
thought some weird sicko had broken into my house and did that to me
because I couldn't figure out how I could do it to myself (I lived
alone). I've also fallen asleep while chatting online, and have typed
out things I can't remember dreaming about, much to the fear and
amusement of friends.

11. I do snore. Regularly. And I toss and turn a lot, but I feel
very rested despite this provided I'm permitted my full 6-8 hours of
sleep.

You might be a geek (or at least a bit odd) if...

You realize that you're happy because you see your handwriting going
uphill and then you have to blog about it.

lymph nodes!!

Yayyyyy!!!!! I was right!! They ARE swelling because of bug bytes!!
*not surprised but relieved to know it's common*

http://www.plateaupediatrics.com/lymphnodeinfo.html

See, every year I go through this. Mosquitoes come around, byte me on
the head, huge lump, then two little lymph nodes on the left side of
my neck just at the hairline swell up into little lumps. At first I
didn't know they were nodes but consultation with anatomy pictures
showed me that's what they probably were, which made sense given venom
was making its way through the area.

Yesterday I was driving along and felt an itchy zing on my head. I
reached back and scratched and felt something under my nail. It was a
tiny ant! By the time I got to my destination I had this almond-sized
lump on the back of my head, and today I've got the two node lumps.
Who would have figured a tiny ant could do that...

~nv

Windows 7 vs Mac

32-bit Windows 7 Ultimate running in VMWare Fusion with an allocated
1GB RAM on a late-2006 2.16GHz Intel Core 2 Duo iMac with 3GB RAM and
a "few" apps open in Leopard. I let 7 install occur while I was at
work today, it was more than ready when I got home. A bit sluggish
with 1GB (could open basics but games seem to hang in this
environment) but it's got a nice look and it /does/ work. I might
tweak the VM with another half gig and see how it does. Currently
it's eating 7GB of hard drive space. Leopard is running smoothly
despite hours of this torture. The extra gig I installed a few months
ago may not have been as useful as I'd thought it would be, but I have
faith that it's sped things up somewheres. Maybe for heavy PS
editing? ::shrug::

Windows (running under Fusion in Unity mode):
System Info
Calculator
Paint (they've finally improved it)
Internet Explorer 8
Windows Media Player
Sticky notes

Leopard:
Mail
Firefox
System Preferences, Disk Utility, Activity Monitor, Network Utility
(tiny apps)
Fusion (mediumun)
Team Viewer
CS 3 (biggun)
iPhoto (biggun)
Tux Paint (fun drawing toy)
Xee
GarageBand (biggun)
iTunes (mediumun)
Audacity
Dashboard

Mom's writing

Knowing that Mum doesn't read my blogs (or if she does, she's never
mentioned it), I emailed her about the driving thing I just blogged
about. As I clicked "Send," I had to giggle to myself. Mum's writing
is very short and precise, like a newspaper article, usually. She
hates flowery crap. Me being a flowery writer at times, I often find
myself re-writing my emails to her in an attempt to remove anything
not pertinent to the conversation.

So, first I blogged the driving experience, then I re-read it and
wrote the email to her entirely from scratch, pulling just the more
important bits and pieces from the blog. It basically came out like a
revved-up version of this:

I can drive standard! I was popping the clutch the whole time. Dale
explained that I should ease out instead. Focused on that. Whammo,
got it.

Okay, it was closer to four short paragraphs because I was still so
excited about it and wanted it to read like at least part of me was in
there, but, you get the point.

Sometimes, it's kinda hard to be so expressive. LOL.

~nv

Standard!!

I CAN DRIVE STANDARD!!

Yesterday Dale took me to an old parking lot for another session with
his Acura RSX, which I'd been dreading because I'd stalled the car so
many times last year despite the successes. I was doing horribly at
first (my interpretation) but Dale and my subconscious simply wouldn't
let me quit again. So, after several more stalls, Dale said, "You're
popping the clutch!" I was like, "Eh?" and he said, "I saw it that
time. That's why the car jerks forward like that." He didn't
immediately offer me a solid way to avoid that, but it hit home and I
figured it out myself: I was so worried about my heavy right foot
that I hardly paid attention to my left other than to get it hovering
near the letout point. Then when I thought I started to feel it roll,
I'd pop the clutch, realize I'd given it too much gas, the car would
lurch, I'd pull off the gas in a panic, and before my left foot would
push the clutch back in, the poor thing would go, "WTF are you
DOING?!?" and stall on me.

So the next 10 times or whatever it was, I focused primarily on my
left foot. EASY, I told it, as the car began rolling, and I ignored
my right foot completely, letting it do its own thing. Suddenly it
all made complete sense to me. Dale told me the worst that would
happen is I'd peel out and THAT IS OKAY, but believe it or not, I did
not peel out. It's like my right foot knew how to compensate all
along, and I never gave it a chance to prove itself.

Now that I've experienced the feeling and can duplicate it over and
over and over, I fully understand what Dale kept drilling into me
about conditions affecting how you start. The process isn't something
that can be boxed and wrapped into a tidy little package. It's a
mechanical balance and unless you can sense that balance in your body,
you ain't going nowhere. It's one of those things like blowing a gum
bubble. Until you get it yourself, it just seems like some elusive
irregular pattern.

Not to say I'm a perfect standard driver now, but I can get into first
gear sooooooooooo much easier now that I've got that intuitive
understanding. I'm now sure that if there was an emergency, I could
drive that little bugger. Might be scary due to inexperience, but I
can do it. And early on I understood shifting and how to stop, so
other than practicing more and learning how to go in reverse, I think
I'm all good. My aim now is to do more of this so I'm comfortable
with it and can drive in traffic without fear. In other words, I want
experience like I eventually had with my truck, and to occasionally
drive it around to maintain that comfort level and subject myself to
new experiences. OMG, let me tell you, that little car handles so
well. As I was excitedly telling Dale (as if he doesn't already know
his own car) - it's so... NIMBLE!!! I quickly found myself turning
around without going all around the lot, because that thing has such
an awesomely smaller turning radius than Dante does. There are things
I'd never try with Dante that, for Dale's car, is the norm. Soooooo
different.

Anywho, I'm excited. :)

~nv

Productivity

Yesterday I had to fight with a device that stated it was compatible
with what I put on it, but which had no drivers to support this
claim. I contacted the manufacturer and they told me the same thing,
saying they do release the item with that particular image on it, but
the drivers haven't passed testing so they won't give them to me or
anyone else. (Granted, I could pull them from a working unit, but I
don't have a working unit.) I reimaged it this morning with something
else and couldn't get that to work on it, either, at least, not well.
Further, the drivers they DO have on their site that HAVE passed
testing DO NOT F***ING WORK. I think the thing is possessed. So now
I'm going to try a different approach starting tomorrow.

I am proud of myself, however, for following up with the customer and
explaining the situation even though I was scared to death of talking
to him. Once in the past he chewed me out a bit for something I
wrongly did, which incidentally, I was wrong in doing but only due to
lack of experience. My perfectionistic mind at the time said "That
wasn't very nice of him but yeah, I should have been more careful and
been perfect." It took some doing but I got over that, telling myself
that being new to the situation and all, things like that were bound
to happen and he could be irritated all he wanted, the fact is, I
corrected the situation as soon as I knew and learned from it. That
counts for a lot with most people, including me. This time around he
was already starting in with advice on how I need to do my job, so my
red flags were up and I was trying desperately not to disappoint
again. Unfortunately, no matter what I did, it just was not to be.

So I bit the bullet and called him. After all, I know I've done
everything I can to this point, and it's the professional thing to do
to keep him abreast of the problem. At first he seemed vexed but he
didn't argue or anything, just strongly stated what he needed, which I
agreed with anyway. I think I was being harder on myself than he was,
in fact, although in all truth I'm more irritated with the vendor for
their part in my misery.

This has taught me to be more patient (very very patient), persistent,
and less fearful of disappointing, all good things in my line of work,
especially when I'm not 100% certain that I'm right. Speaking of
which, I need to be more forceful about things! I was chatting with
Dell yesterday about a laptop that wasn't working right. After I
described the problem and did some quick troubleshooting with them,
they announced that it was the LCD and they'd get it replaced. My gut
was telling me it was the motherboard, but I shut up and figured
they'd seen this on this model before despite it making no sense to
me. After all, I don't exactly specialize in hardware. I only tinker
now and again when I have to (or when I'm building). I'm certainly no
expert and can't even effectively argue for or against most circuitry
since I'm limited in my experience. I only know I like Dell's tech
support and that I like their stuff for the most part.

I should have mentioned my concern, though. What I should have said
was, "You know better than I, but... I wonder if it could be the
motherboard myself. Would it be too expensive for you to ship a
motherboard to the tech, as well, just in case it's not the LCD?" But
I said nothing. Maybe they wouldn't have heeded my advice, but it
would have been worth mentioning, at least. I feel like I didn't do
enough to help them help me. The tech comes today and replaces the
LCD. It still didn't work. He says, "I'm not surprised. I'd have
thought it was the motherboard." Him, too? And my colleague? So now
we have to wait longer for another part and take more of his time.
It's under warranty and he gets paid by Dell, but I'm about
efficiency. I hate that I was silent on that. But, this is an
example of me not trusting my own judgement and being afraid to ask.

I am NOT afraid to ask about some things, however. We plan to tear
down our garage in May and replace it with a new shed that's about the
same width, only a bit more shallow. We've also wanted to get a trash
permit to take trash to the dump here in town. So today I got out on
time and stopped into the town office before they closed. I love
small towns: You walk in and very informally say, "I have two
questions, and here they are." Then the clerk (whom I've seen on
multiple occasions since it's a small town) says, "Here are the
answers," and is very friendly and smily and overall just plain helpful.

I love small towns. Did I mention that?

Anywho, so now we've got a trash permit, and information on what to do
to get a permit for tearing down the garage and replacing it with a
shed. Ten years ago I would not have been caught dead asking someone
for information. I'd have hidden behind someone I knew while THEY
asked. Amazing what age, experience, and a bit of self-confidence can
do for some people, huh?

Currently, I'm starving, and I want to study Cherokee before my
class. Dale might be getting me for a creemee, too, so I think I'll
find some water for now and study until he gets home or calls.

Oh yeah, and I read another page of Braille last night. One day I
will read it easily and fluidly, and without looking at all. I think
that day will be this year. Probably soon, in fact. Now that I've
started studying Cherokee and Braille in earnest, I've begun to really
miss learning new things and sticking with things. I'm less
scattered, more focused, and ... well, my brain feels wanted. I think
I'll tackle Gaelic next. It won't be for a while, however. I intend
to have a good working knowledge of Cherokee before I switch
languages, especially since I'm going to take a college class this
fall and also start studying Sharepoint with far more fervor than I
once did.

~nv