Not much new...

Not much new around here. I'll probably start the packing process today. Which for me generally consists of throwing a bunch of stuff into a suitcase (working from my packing list -- if you don't have a list of what to pack, I highly recommend them!), until I run across an item I can't find, and then freaking out until I either a. find it hidden in a most unlikely place, b. ask Jeff & he says "oh, it's right here" (I suppose this is his annual revenge for all the times I do that to him throughout the rest of the year), c. throw my hands up and go buy a new one (if it's important enough) d. grind my teeth in my sleep until we finally leave without the item, at which point I forget all about it, as, hey! I'm on vacation!

Mostly, though, I just wanted to share the results of this little quiz with you. [Editor's note: Unfortunately it seems to have shoved my sidebar at the right wayyy down the page. And right now I'm disinclined to figure out what quirk of HTML has caused this. So if you REALLY want to see it (it hasn't changed), keep on scrolling. Otherwise, just enjoy my little tale here, and the quiz results beyond.] Another blog I visit regularly posts their results to this "Quiz Of The Week," and this week's quiz had me intrigued...which Disney character WOULD I be? Well, I guess this should come as no surprise...So, which Disney character are YOU? If you use the link below my results you can take the quiz yourself & find out...and then post your results to my comments!

You scored as Goofy. Your alter ego is Goofy! You are fun and great to be around, and you are always willing to help others. You aren't worried about embarassing yourself, so you are one who is more willing to try new things. Goofy 75% Peter Pan 69% The Beast 63% Donald Duck 56% Ariel 56% Sleeping Beauty 56% Pinocchio 44% Cinderella 38% Cruella De Ville 25% Snow White 13% Which Disney Character is your Alter Ego? created with QuizFarm.com

Down the tracks n' back

Hopped up on caffeine this morning, I had a desire to DO something for once. It seems all of my pastimes are relatively quiet pursuits. Even book hunting (with the exception of when we go to particularly rowdy sales) is subdued and slow. I wanted to move about, to enjoy the cool weather, and just do something a bit different. After some review of Google Earth to see what was around here, Jeff and I finally agreed that a walk down the railroad tracks would be a nice way to pass some time. This especially delighted me as, I've always wanted to pack up and just walk the railroad tracks endlessly. Although this would merely be an afternoon's diversion, even the ability to fulfill this desire on a very small scale was most welcome.

This part of town is very different from the viewpoint of the railroad tracks. Although it is still primarily industrial, with the occasional smattering of residential (most of which has seemingly been here since long before the industrial sprang up) it just looks very foreign from the "back side." You see things, such as the glass smashing plant (I suppose it's actually a recycling plant, but all we saw were piles of smashed glass, so it's more fun to think of it that way) that you would never have noticed driving down the street. You get to see huge, ominously creaking tanker cars along sidings leading off into liquid petroleum distributors. You can also, we learned, determine much of what the area businesses do just by walking along with your attention on your olfactory sense. The scent of bread baking, the styrene (one of my very favorite smells -- I have no idea why) of the many boat manufacturers in the area, and the grease, oil and rust smells of the area junkyards. We also saw holes dug and tracks made by local wildlife, as well as an amazing assortment of junk -- from buses and tractors to refrigerators and shelving units -- in the yard (and probably beyond the property line, was our guess) of a local resident. We nicknamed this fellow "The Collector," and turned around just beyond his yard. I think we both got mild sunburns, but it was so nice to walk somewhere it was possible to smell more than just exhaust! Though I doubt I'll ever just take off and do this long-term, it would be nice to do this sort of exploration again on a different section of track. We have many around here at our disposal. Off I go to Google Earth to determine the best next outing!

A word to the wise

Listen up, guys. Yes, just you fellas. Men, whatever you want to call yourselves. I'll tell you a little secret: women don't like to be reminded that you can live without them. That's right! No matter how true it may be, it's no fun to feel like a useless piece of trash just because your man decides he has to display his masculinity by assuring you that you're not necessary to him. And don't fool yourselves. It doesn't have to be said blatantly and directly, as in "You know, I did fine before you came along, I can do fine without you in the future if need be." No, it can be much more subtle than that. For example, it could be take the form of a steady stream of expressed desires to be "on your own." Or, perhaps every time your SO does something nice for you, even something as mundane as laundry, you're letting her know, in no uncertain terms, that you could have done it for yourself. Well duh, Einstein. We're already pretty well aware of that. That's not the point. The point was that we liked you well enough, and thought enough of you (and were just plain thoughtful enough) to do this thing. So what is wrong with just accepting it, and maybe, just maybe once in a long while, occasionally thanking us for it?

Trust me on this one fellas. It's a chunk of why I'm divorced. It's 80% of the reason I left my last job. And I can see it affecting the relationships of certain people close to me right now. If you're smart, and I know you are, you'll take this one to heart.

Ack! I got five yesterday!

I just realized that I downed five full servings of fruits and veggies yesterday. I'm thinking this may be the first time ever. Or at least since infancy, when I had no choice in the matter. Let's see...there was the apple at breakfast, a double-helping of veggies at lunch, and dates for a snack, and then broccoli at Mom's for dinner...YUP! Five! Yay! I guess it's getting easier for my taste buds to accept natural, healthy foods. I also think I'm safe in claiming victory over one pound I've removed. It wasn't easy...first two pounds down in a week after starting my healthier eating -- yahoo! Then, they came back. Ick. Then I bounced around for another week. But I finally got two weigh-ins in a row that match (I only weigh twice a week, usually -- when I go over to Moms. One pound in three weeks? I know, not the best record, but given that one of those weeks was the week of Thanksgiving, and the fact that, to me, this indicates that I am sticking with my healthy food choices more often than not...I'm still going to call it a win. Or should I call it a loss (of a pound :)? Nah. I really prefer the term removal. If I lose something, like my keys, I go looking for them. I can pretty much guarantee I'm not going to be looking for my fat once it's gone!

Black Friday

Happy Thanksgiving!

Well, I was out at 5:30 this morning, picking up the local papers to see what deals there will be to be had tomorrow morning. Jeff has been planning a trip to Best Buy for their mega-deal laptop but...from what saw in the circulars this morning it looked at first like he may want to try Circuit City instead. A better laptop for just over half the price ($199 vs $379). Wow! I was thinking...they've really outdone themselves on that one. But then I read the fine print and realize that the laptop is actually $449, unless you sign up for a year's worth of AO Hell. Ah well...just goes to show that if it looks too good to be true, even on Black Friday, it probably is. So I guess it's Best Buy for us.

My shopping list includes a scanner capable of scanning negatives (so that I can preserve all the photos of my youth, regardless of whether or not I can find the prints, or the prints are in good condition, etc.), a wide format printer (12", so I can print on scrapbook pages -- not a burning desire, just one of those...if I can pick it up cheap, great! sort of things. Which is good, because I don't see any deals on these) and a large external hard drive so I can have a backup of all of those photos I scan (and of course those I take with my digicams). I'm also thinking of picking up a spare pair of Asics, since I've finally found a favorite model and Sports Authority has them for 25% off. Other, lesser wishes include an external flash for my D70, which would make shooting glare-free photos for eBay MUCH easier, and a thumb drive, if I can get one for free or a negligible amount. I always like the free stuff (after rebates, of course) on Black Friday. It's the hassle I hate. Quite honestly, given that my current laptop functions just fine and I don't actually NEED any of this crap, my first instinct is to hide in the warehouse tomorrow. But since I'll probably have to go with Jeff to pick up a laptop anyway (even if I don't want one, I'm sure he'll want a second one, if there are enough to be had, to resell), so I might as well do the rounds and take advantage of the sales that are out there. Thus I spend the day comparing sale prices to eBay, looking at some retailers' Thanksgiving Day online specials (usually a large load of crap, especially when compared to the Black Friday pricing), and wishing we had a CompUSA in the neighborhood. Sigh.

What I'm really looking forward to is getting over to Mom's place, so I can spread all these lovely, glossy tributes to our consumer culture out on the floor and go after them with Sharpies. Although I've looked them all over, I know I've missed stuff, so I have to look again. And its just a tradition of mine. Thanksgiving day doesn't feel the same unless I prey like a vulture on the big boxes' loss leaders. I used to do it on my own living room floor but, alas, not having a house does tend to make that difficult these days. Once I've marked them all to my heart's content, I can begin rubbing my hands together greedily and planning my route based upon the opening times and sale times and how great a deal is and how many I think they'll have in stock and how many other people will want the same item and...yeah, there's lots of moving parts to my planning process. Very different from my weekly garage sale route planning. But I love that kind of challenge! Speaking of garage sales...I wonder if anyone will even bother this week. Guess I'll go page through the classifieds & see.

Talk about the weather

Yep, haven't I just been the lazy one about updating my blogs lately? Yes I have. And no good excuse, either. Most of the time, I just forget that it needs doing, until I've already gone to bed. But here I am now, and I'll make a fine and powerful entry out of it just the same. OK, maybe not powerful. I was just paraphrasing one of my favorite authors there, Stuart Wilde.

The long-awaited Georgia trip turned into more of a long weekend during which I got my rear kicked by the trail. I did finally get my very own backpack though, so I no longer have to put up with the odd fit of any of Jeff's. It will undoubtedly make things easier if we ever decide to go backpacking together as well...two people & one backpack just doesn't sound possible. At any rate, I learned that I'm not quite up to hauling a 50-pound pack over rough trails just yet, although I did make it to my first camp site and there experienced a very bizarre weather occurrence. But first, a bit of background...

The night before I set out hiking I had stayed in a campground well south of the Pine Mountain Trail. The temperature there got down to 38 overnight. I spent most of that night in just my fleece top & bottom & a t-shirt, hunkered down under (not mummied into) my sleeping bag, atop my new Pro-Lite 4 Therm-a-Rest. It wasn't comfortable like sleeping in my bed at home, but I didn't have anything go numb or threaten to fall off. On towards morning, in order to ensure that I got at least some decent sleep, I put on another layer, and was comfortable. This helped me establish that I should probably go ahead and carry the extra layers of clothing I brought, "just in case," so that I wouldn't be stranded out on the trail with insufficient insulation.

So, the next morning, I packed everything up, including my extra layers, and drove to the trailhead for the Pine Mountain Trail. I contemplated investing in a warmer sleeping bag, but, it was Sunday, and in Georgia it seems almost nothing outside of Atlanta is open on Sunday, so it turned out to be a non-option. No biggie. According to the last check I had made before leaving, the weather was actually slated to warm up after one more night similar to the previous one, so I should be fine. I check in and pay for my backcountry and parking permits, decide which sites I'll be staying at what nights...yada yada yada. Drive to the trailhead, hike in with my pack, and make it to the Bumblebee Ridge camp site not much worse for wear, considering my pack weight.

Funny side note...as I'm approaching the camp site, there's a pretty tall rock outcrop I have to scale to get up to it. OK, not that tall (maybe 3 feet) but wayyy to high for me to scramble up with pack on back. Lucky for me there's a nice couple sitting atop it with their cute little dog. They've dayhiked in, and as it's getting on to dusk are getting ready to leave. But the gent of the couple sees me struggling with my pack as I take it off and try to heave it up onto the rock outcrop in preparation for climbing up there myself, and kindly offers to help me. I warn him that the pack is heavy. In fact, I believe I used the phrase "bloody heavy." He apparently didn't believe me, though, and nearly fell off the rock when I stopped supporting it. "Wow!" he says..."you carry that on your back?" Yep, and I warned ya...

So I make it up to the camp site, and pick out a suitable spot, pitch the tent, cook dinner, etc. etc. As I'm cleaning up after dinner & hanging my food bag, it starts getting chilly, so I start applying layers. Then I snuggle down in my tent to write in my journal. Pretty soon, though, it's too cold for me to want to be out of the bag enough to write, so I put on my remaining layers and hide under my bag. Still too cold. So I mummy up in my bag, and get pretty close to warm. Then of course the bladder kicks in. Great. So I go take care of that, blowing copious clouds of condensation from my nostrils, and take my time getting back into the bag, so as not to sweat in my clothes (amazing what a difference just getting up and walking a few yards in cold weather gear makes in your internal temperature). But once I get back in & mummied up, I'm still shivering cold. Thinking that there isn't much else I can do, I begin to worry. No matter how snug I snug the hood (and yes, I'm wearing a fleece hat under it), I can't seem to get warm enough to stop shivering. Great, I'm gonna die of hypothermia on my first solo backpacking trip. OK, so that's a bit of an exaggeration, but the mind does funny flip-flops when you're alone in the woods. As I start thinking less drastically, I realize, worst case, I'll have to just keep moving all night to stay warm. Not the end of the world, but it's gonna make hiking the next day a pretty bad prospect.

Eventually nature calls again. Me and my blasted water habit. Sheesh. Out of the bag, out of the tent, do my thing...notice that, oddly, there is very little water vapor in evidence when I exhale, hear wind beginning to rustle the trees...back in the tent, close down the one little open flap to keep the cold wind out. Ha! Not gonna get me, frostbite! Then I begin easing back into the bag...but no matter how long I wait, I can't seem to cool off enough to keep from sweating. Odd, but not entirely unwelcome. So I lie and wait for a while, just glad I'm not shivering any more. A long while. Long enough to work up yet another trip out of the tent (sheesh). When I emerge, I realize it is so warm, I could easily be walking around in only a t-shirt & shorts. What the?! I guess the wind was blowing from the South, although I never felt it directly enough to know for sure. Whatever the case though, it apparently blew in one of the most drastic temperature changes I've ever experienced. I would say it was no more than an hour and a half to two hours that elapsed between the time that I was shivering to stay alive (which, given my previous night's experience and known temperature of 38 degrees, I would have to say it must have been well below 38 to make me that cold) and the time I had to start removing clothing to keep from sweating (if I had to guess, 50-55 degrees or so).

Needless to say, I slept quite well the rest of the night, but dawn came way too soon for my lack of rest, and I have always had trouble sleeping when the sun is in the sky. Somewhere between my shaky legs from not having rested properly and my self-doubt over whether or not the weather might bring similar experiences the following four nights, I decided to pack out rather than further in. A couple of miles out sounded like more than I could manage, anyway, and I had had five plus planned had I been continuing on. Once I got going, of course, my legs felt less rubbery, but once I had committed to the trail out, I didn't have much interest in changing my mind.

So, I'm a big wimp, I guess. Meh. I returned with a newfound resolution to lose weight, so I view it as a positive experience, regardless. Actually, more than losing weight, I've just committed to eating better. Five or six small meals of whole grains, veggies & high-quality protein. More cheaply said than done, but hopefully worth it in the end. And I'm sort of dragging Jeff along with me. I'm not forcing him to eat it, but fortunately for both of us, he's not the sort to turn down any meal that's cooked for him (as long as it doesn't contain pumpkin or mushrooms), so he's eating a lot of the same stuff I am, and it seems to be agreeing with him well enough. Perhaps he'll lose a little too, although he's not exactly obese, so it's not much of a concern. Mostly I'm just trying to put off my weight training until I get really and truly stalled on my weight removal process. Till then, it's steady cardio and diet for me. I view weight training as my ace in the hole...OK body, you don't wanna lose any more? Take THAT! Ha! Can't argue with the fact that muscle burns more calories than fat, can ya?!

Whips n' Wails n' Dragons' Tails...

THATS what hurricanes are made of!

Have you ever heard an entire building clang like a bell? It's a pretty formidable sound, let me tell you! I had a smidge of trouble going to sleep last night, not the least due to the fact that I had forgotten, since last year's hurricane season, just how much these metal buildings creak and groan in the wind. Then, along about 4 a.m., not all that long after I finall found Mr. Sandman, this ungodly clanging/banging noise starts in. Naturally I have to peek out the door to make sure it isn't my precious Echo being hurled against the fence or something. Luckily, it was nothing that bad. Unluckily, it was the partially-complete metal building a few dozen yards distant buckling and slapping against its girders like a giant gong. Though I tried valiantly to reassure myself that none of those metal pieces was about to peel away and come slicing through our overhead door like a giant machete, my adrenaline centers just weren't buying it, so after another hour of lying in bed, trying to convince myself that I wasn't having a panic attack, I got up and came into the office, just to put some distance between myself and the nerve-wracking noise. At least we never lost power (just like last year), so I was able to continue viewing satellite photos and progress reports all the way through. It was amazing, the speed with which Wilma swept across Florida, and it was very cool to see the interaction of Wilma with the leading edge of our friend the superstrong cold front that has actually managed to make the warehouse sleepable without a fan (I know this for certain; I just got up from a nap to try to catch up on the last two days' wacky & inadequate sleep schedule). The building is still creakier than a grumpy old man (I'm actually surprised that the wind hasn't died down more -- as of an hour ago it was still sustained at 30 MPH w/gusts to 40 at SRQ), but that fact doesn't bother me so much now that I know Wilma is marching off into the distance.

Wow, that was some run-on paragraph. On a completely different note...

Here I am, staring down the barrel of another vacation, and I haven't even had time to THINK about scrapping any photos from the last one (all the more ironic because part of it was a scrapbooking retreat). I think I've been so unproductive because I've not been in any mood to organize my time. I think if I were to set aside specific blocks of time for things like eBay store maintenance, scrapbooking, and the like (I already have specific blocks set aside for making the rounds of the local used bookstores) I'd probably get more done all the way around. Perhaps once I've returned from Georgia I'll be able to try this out and see how it works. I still don't know if Jeff is going with me, but then I haven't started packing yet either. I suppose once he has to help me fit a new pack to my back & sees me cramming it with stuff, he'll be more inclined to make his call.

Ah well, that's all the news that's fit to print this week. Aren't you glad I had something to write about besides my feet (which, by the way, I've slowly been learning to appease, and so am having much less pain from these days)?

Foot pain update

Although it's probably a boring subject for most folks to read about, I did want to give an update here about how my feet are doing. I received a phone call from Ron in response to my last post (Jeff's Dad who, I could've sworn Jeff said was an exercise physiologist, but apparently I was mistaken...he's not awake right now or I would pester him to find out. Neither here nor there, however, since he was just as helpful as I could have hoped...), and he pointed me back to the web to look up information on plantar fasciitis, also commonly known as heel spurs. Firstly, I never would have thought this my problem; even when reading through much of the information, I didn't see what my problem could have to do with heel spurs; my pain was primarily in the arch area. Then I saw this line: "The classic sign of plantar fasciitis (which is often called a "heel spur" because it's easier to pronounce) is heel pain with the first few steps in the morning." WHOOPS! I've been having that pain for months now (nearly as long as I've been working out), but haven't thought anything of it, since a. it goes away after my first few dozen steps in the morning and b. didn't seem to have anything to do with this latest development of arch pain. Sure enough, though, when I take the time to stretch my calf muscles before hopping out of bed, I have almost no pain at all on my first few steps.

So...I tried taping my foot to gain some relief (and hopefully be able to wear shoes with arch support in them again), but that changed my gait so much that it caused other aches and pains that I'm pretty sure shouldn't be there. I suppose there's a good chance that since I'm only following diagrams and instructions that I'm taping incorrectly, but it has made me consider other solutions. My Mom had complained of heel spurs a few years back, and at the recommendation of a mutual friend, tried out some commercially available heel cups that seem to have worked for her. Part of me wants to try these, as our feet do have a similar shape, but the fact that we can't both wear the same brands of shoes (i.e. our feet are not similar enough that shoes made on the same last are comfortable for both of us) makes me wonder if I'll be wasting my money. At this point, though, I suppose it'll be something of a matter of trial-and-error to find what works for me. So I'll probably be stopping at the store to nab some heel cups today. Even though they won't get me back into my beloved Birkis, at least they might give me a modicum of comfort while working out. It would also be nice to be able to comfortably wear some supportive athletic shoes this weekend while helping Mom move. I don't suppose I'll be making it to the gym this weekend, but I don't doubt that I'll do more work running up and down stairs than I ever would at the gym, so, I guess I'll go for muscle work this weekend over cardio. Goodness knows I'm not getting much strength training in anywhere else.

I suppose I've rambled enough for now about this oh-so-gripping topic. I'll try to pick a more engaging one (at least, to more people beyond just me) for my next entry :)

Warning! Falling Arches Ahead!

Today I have come here to whine a bit, but also to ask for help. You see, I have always had extremely high arches. I've also always been very proud of this fact. Why proud? Well, as you probably know, pride isn't always well-placed. And given that my high arches are probably just due to a chance combinations of lucky genes (my father had fallen arches all his life, so I must've gotten them from Mom) and the fact that my mother let me run around barefoot a lot as a kid, I really have nothing to be "proud" of; it's not like I worked for them or anything.

But all my misplaced pride aside, I've always been glad I had high arches, as I saw what pain my father's flat feet had caused him all his life. Lately, though, I've been having mysterious foot pain, and even some leg pain too. For a couple of weeks now, I've just chalked it up to the fact that I've been pushing myself harder and harder on the treadmill when I work out. But that doesn't explain why I've had even more pain on the days that I don't work out. This afternoon, as I was lying about sweating at the end of my afternoon nap, I had a brainwave. "Your arches are falling, dummy!"

What? No! This can't be! So I dragged out a pair of Birkenstocks that I haven't worn for several months, but that have plenty of wear on them. There was my teltale pattern of lots of wear front, rear, and outside, but the entire arch looks almost untouched. Then I put them next to the Birkis I've been wearing for the last 6 months or so...the entire footbed is black from wear. Crap! On a stick, even! This can't be happening to me. Now, don't get me wrong; I haven't lost my arches completely (next thing I did was the footprint test, and I still have quite a bit of arch left) but those of you who know Birkenstocks know that you have to have a very high arch to wear them comfortably and, well, mine are now causing me pain. Wah! It's more my left foot than my right, but it's still very distressing to me that this is happening at all. Bitch. Moan. Whine.

So I went to the internet, my trusty companion, and found some foot exercises I can do to try to re-strengthen my feet's muscles and try to regain some of my arch. My other thought, though, is, should I lay off the treadmill until I lose more weight? Could this be what's depleting my arch-ness? Any exercise physiologists out there (*ahem* Ron *cough*) who would like to chime in on this?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go mourn my arches...*snif*

Music -- friend or enemy?

Ever notice how music can be your friend or your enemy? Most of the time, for me at least, it's a friend. It can cheer me up, pick up my energy level, or help me relax and unwind after some unexpected stress falls in my lap. Researchers have even shown that belting out a tune on your morning commute or just listening to music in the car can help lower stress levels and help prevent or alleviate road rage. But on occasion an evil, evil song will get stuck in my head. Not just for minutes or hours, but often for days at a time. Could be some tune from the 80s. Could be a song I heard just a snippet of, but I know just enough of it to want to hear more, so my mind will latch onto it and keep repeating it endlessly. Just a couple of weeks ago I got "The Saga Begins" by Weird Al Yankovic stuck in my head for at least three days (I lost count) after hearing it at a garage sale. The worst, however, is when my mind gloms onto a tune I absolutely abhor. WHY DOES IT DO THAT??!!! Why would the powers that be want to punish me by hermetically sealing a horrible, pointless, fluffy song inside my head for days on end? And why can't I control this phenomenon? We all "know" that the way to get a song that's stuck in your head out of there is to listen to it. Well, sorry friends, but sometimes it just doesn't work that way for me. Sure, sometimes the old standby works, but other times listening to it, even several times in a row, only seems to serve to cement it more solidly amongst my synapses. What the hell? Probably the absolute worst case scenario, though, with respect to this mind-numbing phenomenon is when I get a song stuck in my head that I just can't get hold of a real copy of. Then I can't even test the theory that listening to it will help me shake it! Back in the good ol' days of Napster, I rarely had this problem. Nowadays, I have a paid subscription to MusicMatch that lets me listen, on-demand, to any of their thousands of available tunes. But sometimes, just sometimes, not only do I not have the CD, but it isn't even available via MusicMatch. Then, ladies and gents, I am quite sincerely screwed. I'm happy to say that right now is not one of those times. I'm happily streaming some more eclectic selections from MusicMatch such as cuts by Gotan Project, dZihan & Kamien, and Wally Brill (if you really want a bone-chilling cut, check out his "A Typical Day"). But man, when those malignant song-bites strike, I'd give anything to know how to get them to go away. Anybody got any suggestions?

Gads, my feet are bigger than I thought!

I took this enlightening little quiz about my ecological footprint today: www.myfootprint.org

According to it, if everyone on earth lived like me, we would need the products of two earths to sustain them. Of course, they didn't have selections for "I live in a warehouse without A/C" or "I live on a boat with no electricity," but I doubt that really mattered much. I know the two biggest things that pushed my score up over the acceptable limit of 4.5 acres per person were my driving habits (although I drive very little for myself, my weekly excursions to purchase books helped to put me in the 200-300 mi/wk category) and my eating habits (the fact that I've been really lazy lately, and living primarily off of prepackaged foods. It's one of Jeff's practices that I am neither proud nor happy to have adopted, and my body is none too pleased about it either).

Although there isn't much of a way around the driving I do for inventory acquisition, I know that I could cut back by riding my bike to the gym (although I often combine gym and post office or gym and inventory acquisition trips to help cut back on gas consumption), and, ideally, by riding our bikes back and forth to Mom's house (well, except that she has a habit of sending stuff home with us that wouldn't fit too well on a bike...and the fact that we'd be riding home after dark...eek!), but for the most part, we only drive to support ourselves. Maybe I'll go back and re-take the quiz, and see just how big of an impact living on fresh, local produce (scary as it is with its pesticides!) would have on my consumption. I encourage you to take the quiz yourself...it's an eye opener!

Questions, questions...here are the answers!

I ran across a new (to me) phenomenon today. It's kind of like chain mail for bloggers. And I like it a whole lot better than the standard "OK, everybody answer these same 50 questions in your blog" sort of thing.

First off, to give credit where credit is due, I got the idea from the Twenty Sided Life blog.

Here's how it works:

Want to play the question game?

The Interview Me Game Rules.

1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying, “interview me.”
2. I will respond by asking you five questions - each person’s will be different.
3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

So, I'll say, in advance, if you read this and want to play, just comment & say so! Now, here are the questions I got, and, of course, my answers:
1. What as the first pet you had?
My first pets were fish. Boring, I know, but my allergies early in life would permit nothing else. The first "real" pet I had was a kitten named Frisky. We wound up having to give him back to his original owners, though, as dad seemed allergic; i.e. he would sneeze (and frighten the poor kitten half to death -- and all the way to the other side of the house) any time it sat on his lap. :(

2. Who would want to play you, in a movie about your life?
Oooh, this is a toughie. If I wanted to be portrayed as beautiful, graceful and elegant, I'd say Nicole Kidman. Since I'm none of those things in real life, though, I'd say Sandra Bullock. She's cute, spunky, and doesn't seem like she takes crap from much of anybody, yet seems sweet and caring as well...a lot like me.

3. You have to give up one of the following things, which one do you
chose? Books, movie, or music? MOVIES! I probably see a dozen a year (if that), and mostly on DVDs as they pass through our hands when we sell them. There's no way I could live without books OR music, so this is a no-brainer for me.

4. Do you think you will be blogging in a year? Two?
Probably. I've actually blogged on and off since 1998 or 9...back before it was even called blogging. So chances are good the trend will continue.

5. What is your biggest fear?
Pain. Especially a slow, painful death. That's why I've become pretty gung-ho lately about getting back into shape. I watched my father suffer terribly because he had abused his body for many years with too much food and not enough exercise (and don't get me wrong...he was no fat lazy slob...only maybe 50 lbs overweight, and worked hard for a living -- you'd think that would be enough, but it just wasn't) and was apparently saddled with unfortunate genes (which undoubtedly got passed on to me, at least in part), so I have a lot of motivation to avoid the same fate. It's the day-to-day, moment-to-moment part of eating & exercise I don't quite have down yet...but that's the topic for a whole 'nother blog post...or 10.

Many thanks to Aden for the idea and the questions! Post a comment if you'd like to play along, and I'll conjure up some queries for you!

Rampant Consumerism

Rather than rant about it (which most would probably expect from me) I've been spending some of my mental energy trying to dissect it. I think, If I were to ever write a doctoral dissertation, I would try to establish the lineage of rampant consumerism in the USA. Of course, I'll never have the chance, as I haven't even the inclination to complete a baccalaureate degree, but I can fantasize. And write about it here.

Going back as far as the early 1800s, when a great deal of immigration was occurring into this "New World," we can read about how a great many of the immigrants from the "old country" (whichever that was) would seek out goods and services made and done "the old way." This is most likely true for almost anyone who actually immigrated. Their children, born here or who were brought over so young as to not remember the old country, were probably raised learning and appreciating the old ways too. For the most part, they undoubtedly had their parents' tongue as their primary language and, only if they were exceptionally "fortunate," (I use the word loosely, given the worker-bee mentality the school system has, over time, devolved into churning out) had any kind of formal education (need to research here when the indoctrination -- I mean, school system began to spread in earnest in this country).

Basically, I just wonder how many generations it took to go from wanting homemade & handmade to wanting shiny, plastic & trendy-ad-campaign-driven. when I look at the sort of ads they had, it seems to me the real push for the latter began in the 50s, and that that also seems to be when the psychology of making people think they need what they actually only want began to be used in the ad industry in a big way. But more research is needed on these assertions as well. I look at very old ads (e.g. turn of the previous century), and they seem to push how great a product is. I'm just keen to know when the concept got turned around to instead imply how great YOU would be if you had a product.

I suppose these thoughts will, with time, fade into oblivion, though, much as my musings and research on mob mentality did (that was an obsession I had in my college days - I couldn't for the life of me understand why so blessed many people would do such incredibly stupid things -- the LA riots after the Rodney King verdict for example, with people destroying their own neighborhoods and whatnot, or, my personal favorite, the KKK; what sort of nutjobs are those guys? -- when part of a larger group) after college, or my obsession with the evils of TV (which I covered extensively in my senior thesis for my Radio/Television production class -- great way to impress the teacher with all I've learned, no?) during high school.

Whew, that was some sentence! In any event, I'm pondering these things now, until the next imponderable (or the next Harry Potter book -- I find these to be an excellent distraction from reality) comes along, and thought I'd share, in the hopes that maybe someone who was actually alive back in the 50s (analyses of even earlier eras are welcome as well!) can shed some light on it for me. All I know now is that we're so far beyond hopeless as a consumer culture, that I'm really wishing I could move to another country. This was all driven home to me quite forcibly when I was in Europe this spring. The lack of advertising, particularly of the large billboard sort, was quite noticeable. I even remember seeing a television story on how people felt about the newly-permitted advertising at bus stops. Naturally, given that it was in Swedish, I couldn't understand it all, but I could tell that there was a varied reaction, with some rather vehement opponents.

It's amazing what an eye-opening experience it can be to visit a totally foreign culture. Sure, they may be first-world, and even speak our language fluently. But it could not have been more clear to me just how much more refined, centered, and well-rounded the Swedes and Norwegians were compared to my American compatriots. Not to mention the culture shock of watching a European newscast (BBC -- so I could actually understand it). It covers so much more of the world's news than our own. I'll grant you, we're a huge country, so we generate a lot of information in the course of the day. But it seems we reduce the rest of the world's news (which is, naturally, considerably greater in quantity) to, maybe 5 minutes on Iraq and 2 more about the latest natural disaster in India/Indonesia/Rwanda/insert your favorite third-world country with bad luck here. The BBC, by contrast, covered news from so many different countries and areas it made my head spin. Granted, they were able to give accordingly less time to each, but it was certainly a more even-handed approach to any given country than what you see here.

Ah well, I guess that's just one of many reasons why I travel...to be reminded that, no matter how many times I hear it said that "this country's a damn sight better than any other," it's just not true. Every country has its strengths and weaknesses, and for Americans to take such a haughty line and assume that we can learn nothing from anyone will undoubtedly be a huge portion of why we meet our demise. And oh yes, we will meet our demise. But I'll save my ponderings & predictions on the how and why of that for another day...

Road rage, &c.

I've been mulling over driving styles lately, as there are several that catch my eye on a fairly regular basis. Now that my only "daily commute" is to the post office, I don't drive as much as I used to, but I still do so enough to see quite a range of on-road behaviours. I remember when I was a teenager, young and invulnerable, my driving style pretty closely resembled much of what I see these days. Yet, more often than not, when I see someone in their enormous S Moo V whipping in and out of traffic trying to get ahead, it's not some punk kid. It's usually a full-grown adult (occasionally with blissfully unaware kids strapped in the back, but more often than not, they have the entire egregious vehicle to themselves). Sure, I still see the twerps in their sporty rice burners (nowadays equipped with "mufflers" and tailpipes that make them sound more like 747s) zipping around me and the other unsuspecting law-abiders like we're sitting still, but, I'm often out at a time of day while they're still in school, so the assoholism of youth can't possibly explain all of what I see.

I guess I'm getting to be an old fuddy-duddy, but I really don't see the draw of rushing to the next red light, or trying to one-up myself by cutting more cars off on each successive outing. It just doesn't make sense to me on any level, although to keep it practical, I'll just say this: I can't afford the kind of hit I'd be taking on my gas mileage. Five miles over the speed limit is plenty for me, and it seems more and more often, I'm not even bothering to do that. And don't even get me started on all the red lights I've seen run lately. What is causing us all to be in such a gawdawful hurry? I know that Americans in general have become consumers extraordinaire, and that in order to support such lifestyles have to cram more and more into each day, but can this possibly be the only cause? Why is everyone so incredibly harried that they would rather risk their and their passengers' lives than stop when a light turns red?

Another theory I have is that the culture has so indoctrinated us into the competitive mindset that we actually NEED the thrill of being first in line at the stoplight in order to feel competent. Oddly enough, being the last one through the red light also seems to offer this sense of achievement. Somehow, even if we're stuck at the light directly ahead of the car we whizzed by at 80 MPH half a mile ago, we feel like a winner. Not just a winner, even, but THE winner. I won that race! Ha! Look at that loser in their pathetic little car that can't even keep me from passing it!

But all this ranting and pondering has left me with no answers, and not even any good theories, so now I'm trying to do what I probably should have done long ago -- just drive my car, and not worry what the numerous idjits around me are doing with their gas mileage or their children's lives. Believe me, this is FAR more easily said than done. My father always preferred riding in the car when I was driving to when my mother was driving, because she had a tendency to tell all the other drivers exactly what she thought of them. I occasionally found myself expressing shock or anger at other drivers, but not nearly so often. It seems these days, though, Dad probably wouldn't appreciate riding with me all that much, as the marked increase in idiotic maneuvers has left me with no other way to vent my awe than to talk back. I'm not the gun-toting, break-in-your-window-and-shoot-you-because-you-cut-me-off-five-miles-ago type, so my lack of understanding and sympathy for these nutjobs just builds behind my calm facade until it finally spews forth in an always outraged, occasionally unsavory outburst.

So I'm trying to cut back on this behavior. Such anger can't be healthy. But it is no easy matter trying to break a habit so ingrained. Even if I haven't always been given to screaming at other people, I have been wont to take exception to being cut off since before it was me driving. I try mantras, I try counting to ten, I try thinking of something completely non sequitur. Sometimes these things work, sometimes not. Overall, I just hope I can stick to it and practice until ignoring the inane contention surrounding me and my vehicle becomes second nature. In truth, I'm not sure I'm capable of such placidity; but I can hope.

Reminiscences from long ago

If anyone actually read the first two posts to this blog, you will note that I have just changed the name (for those of you in the cheap seats, the original name was "A Day in the Life of a Bargain Hunter"). That title was a spur-of-the-moment thing, due to the fact that I had a spur-of-the-moment desire to begin (yet another) blog, without any real idea as to what would be going into it as far as content. I just had some thoughts I wanted to get off my chest, so I grabbed the first lame title that came to mind (and, lo and behold, it had everything to do with the topic on my mind at the moment) and slapped the blog up. Hopefully this will be a more enduring and appropriate title.

All that being said, I have been prompted lately to think about my childhood, and the origins of my desire for novelty. I recall rather vividly one fantasy I had as a child. I would call it a wish but, even as a dumb kid I knew that there could be no such place. I wanted very badly to live in a house that changed every day. Not just wall color or furniture arrangement, but the actual layout of the house. Essentially, I wanted to come home to a different house each and every day. I didn't care (or even think about, actually) what the outside would look like. All I wanted was to have new rooms, new halls, new everything to explore each day. I remember simultaneously loving and hating to go over to the houses of friends & neighbors, as, unless I already knew their homes by heart, I would yearn to see how they were laid out, what lay behind every door, and what shapes and arrangements their houses had that mine did not. Being the quiet, polite child that I was, however, I never dared ask for a tour, let alone go tearing through or snooping on my own. For a long time I considered myself "nosy" because of this desire. But looking back now, I see that these two wishes were merely branches of the same tree. The same tree that now has me taking off into the unknown backwoods on my own, to explore places much grander than any built by man.

Another early thought which has recently come to make much more sense is my recurring wonderment at why people need such large spaces in which to live. I remember thinking this often when my friends and I would build "forts" out of lawn furniture and sofa cushions, draping them with towels or sheets for roofs. I was always so pleased with the spaces I built, all cozy and dark. Just large enough for me and maybe a book or two. I felt I could be amazingly happy if I were given a place like this in which to live out my days (obviously I had no clue what middle age speread was, nor what a great decline in agility one experiences as one ages). I was spurred to think of this again when I was a teenager, and met a fellow who was living in the closet of a house he shared with several other guys. He seemed quite happy there, with his mattress on the floor and his few posessions in sacks near at hand. Although I now need quite a bit of space in order to earn my living, I have returned to my "roots," as it were, and have chosen to give up the large house in favor of living on a boat. Nice and cozy. Not to mention the extra added benefits (over a fort built of pillows and such) of a kitchen and the sound of waves lapping at the hull to lull me to sleep.

So, there you have it. A couple of bits of cobweb from my past, that I'll probably need to re-hash again in a few years. I sincerely hope you weren't looking for a point in this post, though, as I'm afraid there is none. Just me figuring myself out and sharing my earth-shaking revelations with those few who would bother to read them.

Four years later...

I wrote this about a month ago, but wanted to share it today. I really surprised myself when I was looking through some of my old journals.

I just found a journal entry from about four years ago, in which I had set out for myself some five-year goals. Many of them were inspired by having read Rich Dad, Poor Dad, and other things, and this exact journal entry was inspired by a CD I’d been listening to, 21 Secrets of Self-Made Millionaires. The funny thing is, I ran across this entry after reading, & nearly crying over, some other journal bits & bobs about my relationship with John, and how I was struggling with it so earnestly, wishing he were so many things that he was not, and trying so hard to reconcile those facts with my fantasy that he was the perfect guy for me, long-term.

Ever since I left John, I’ve had a nagging suspicion that I shouldn’t have, that I somehow did him horribly wrong, and that he somehow could have accommodated my wishes to travel, enjoy the outdoors, and otherwise live as I want. But re-reading the journal entries that came before this, and then looking at what my actual goals were, I have to admit that, I was never going to be able to change him, and what I enjoyed simply did not bring him enjoyment. At least, not the roughing it, active, outdoorsy part of it. Sure, he would’ve enjoyed the pool and the hot tub. But I relinquished those dreams gladly, for the opportunity to have such a large chunk of my others fulfilled. Here’s the journal entry, so I can dissect it:

6/11/01

Dream big, eh? That’s supposedly the first of 21 secrets of self-made millionaires. It seems as though every time I try to dream big, or even put details into a smaller dream, I get scared and have to back off. I think it’s the analytical side of me, saying to myself “no, no, you can’t do that! It’s too much work!” or “It’s too far from here to there!” I suppose it is, at least in part, that sort of self-limiting thinking that has been holding me back up until now. So in order to even be able to do the first thing recommended, I’m going to have to work through some issues. Bummer.

I think I might be able to put a “dream” down in writing better than if I was just creating it in my head. I know I’ve already gone through this process once, in a smaller, more realistic way, when I was doing the exercises in “Do It!” Let’s try:

In five years, when I am living my perfect life, I will be:
Maintaining my goal weight “effortlessly” through diet and regular exercise
Well on my way to financial independence, through smart investments and wise spending habits
Traveling regularly, taking all the more exotic trips I have dreamed about, and many to places I haven’t yet thought of
Doing more active vacations; hiking, skiing, kayaking, hang gliding, etc.
Having plenty of time and motivation to follow my favorite recreational pursuits besides travel, such as scrapbooking, cooking and cross stitch
Doing something I love for a living to earn the money I invest so wisely
Debt-free, except perhaps for my mortgage
Living happily in the same house I am now living in, keeping it well maintained and neatly organized, hiring help to clean as necessary.
Possibly swimming in the privacy-screen enclosed pool I have had installed in my own back yard (but which I pay someone to maintain), and definitely soaking in the hot tub I’ve had installed in the Florida room
Spending plenty of quality time with my family, and possibly even facilitating a family reunion
Completely free of television. I won’t require John to be, but I really don’t think I will miss it all that much, and it is a huge time-waster that annoys me

“My perfect life,” eh? Well, as of today (6/28/05), just four years after that was written, I have accomplished the following list items:
Maintaining my goal weight “effortlessly” through diet and regular exercise
Traveling regularly, taking all the more exotic trips I have dreamed about, and many to places I haven’t yet thought of
Doing more active vacations; hiking, skiing, kayaking, hang gliding, etc.
Having plenty of time and motivation to follow my favorite recreational pursuits besides travel, such as scrapbooking, cooking and cross stitch
Doing something I love for a living to earn the money I invest so wisely
Debt-free, except perhaps for my mortgage
Completely free of television
Spending plenty of quality time with my family, and possibly even facilitating a family reunion

The red parts are the portions of semi-accomplished goals that I’ve yet to reach.

Let me first address these items.
-Traveling regularly – yup, pretty much any time I want. And I have more modes of doing so now (two sailboats). Granted, the “exotic trips” are just beginning, but I find it especially intriguing that I put that part about “places I haven’t yet thought of” in there. Whole new realms of possibility have opened up to me with the people I’ve met (e.g. Leo – Alaska, Jeff – Central & South America).
-Although I’m currently nowhere near my goal weight, I have finally found the strength within myself to commit to losing the weight I don’t want. This makes me quite happy in the certainty that, by the previously appointed five-year mark, I will indeed be at my goal weight, and maintaining it in fun and interesting ways.
-More active vacations – it strikes me how often this has cropped up in my writings while I was with John, and how restricted I felt by his lack of motivation for such activities. Jeff is up for almost anything, and even supports my thoughts of taking off on my own. I’m not sure I could have found a better partner for active vacations, or for letting me take off on individual adventures.
-Having plenty of time & motivation…OK, while I admit I’m still susceptible to depression & the insidious “scrapper’s block” (which happens to currently be plaguing me, but that I believe I shall soon overcome), I certainly have plenty of time for these things. Can’t complain at all, there.
-Doing something I love – how much more fun could I have than shopping for a living? And, as mentioned in the item above, I try to keep my time investment down – 6 hours a day or less of work – so that I have plenty of time to pursue my avocational passions.
-Debt free – ‘nuff said J
-Completely free of television – to think that I could escape TV at mom’s house was folly, if that’s what I meant at the time, but I doubt it. So I’d say I’ve pretty well accomplished this.
-Quality time with family. Well, since mom’s all that’s left around here, I’m doing ok on that. I'm just to enjoy her while she’s here. And I even managed a nice visit with David last spring. Hopefully someday I’ll make it to Idaho to see Steve again. As for the family reunion though…now that there are so few of us left, and I’ve realized that Dave & Steve don’t get along so well, perhaps that was a bad idea. Probably prompted by good intentions, but also probably a waste of time. The only thing that would make it not such, would be the fact that mom would be really happy to see her kids & grandkids again. But I’m afraid the money involved in getting all of them here, or the struggle involved on getting her on a plane to see them, would pretty much make these things impossible.

Now, to address those things which I’ve not yet accomplished, even partially.
- Well on my way to financial independence, through smart investments and wise spending habits
I suppose this actually depends on how you define “financial independence,” but the way I defined it back then (“having enough passive income that I could work or not, as I chose”) is far from where I am now. So, rather than redefining financial independence, I’m going to have to admit that I’m nowhere near it, decide how much I really want it, and, regardless of whether or not I intend to shoot for it, be sure to work on the smart investments and wise spending habits parts, as these are valuable regardless, and need a lot of work!
- Living happily in the same house I am now living in, keeping it well maintained and neatly organized, hiring help to clean as necessary.
Here is where two roads diverged in a wood, and I chose the path less taken. Giving up my house was a huge decision, but it enabled me to be where I am now, doing what I love, and has given me so much freedom that I am quite certain I made the right decision. Thus, this goal would probably need modification for my next five-year plan; something along the lines of “Living happily in a comfortable, organized space” would probably be appropriate.
-Possibly swimming in the privacy-screen enclosed pool I have had installed in my own back yard (but which I pay someone to maintain), and definitely soaking in the hot tub I’ve had installed in the Florida room
Along with the house, this one went out the window. Since I still have my gym membership, though, swimming pools and hot tubs are still at my disposal, even if I can’t enjoy them in the nudity or sharing way I had hoped. For that, I’ll just have to hike to hot springs with Jeff ;)
So, all in all, I feel I have certainly kept to the spirit of my five-year plan, even though I haven’t reviewed it in four years. That’s not to say that this is a good way of going about things.

Cherry Poppers

So, I'm at this garage sale today, and this guy has a pretty good selection of CD box sets and DVDs and what not (well, it was only about a dozen, but that's awfully good for a garage sale around here) out for sale. Since these items tend to sell for higher dollar amounts than most books (and often more quickly), I'm happily checking them out...inputting the UPCs into my ScoutPal, checking at all the discs for scratches...that sort of thing. Lo and behold, hidden behind a special edition Evil Dead DVD, I find another disc. My first glance at the art on the disk (women wearing obscenely short Daisy Dukes and nearly exposing their breasts) and the title (Cherry Poppers or some such) makes me think it's some sort of rap album. I glance over my shoulder to see if anyone has seen me seeing it, and I tuck it back into its hiding place. Slowly, the realization dawns on me...that's no rap album...that's a porn flick! Being that my ex worked in a porn store, you'd think it'd occur to me a bit quicker than that, but...

So I gather up all the good stuff this guy has to offer, and ask him to make me a package deal. $15, he says. Not bad, given that as of this writing (roughly 12 hours after I bought this stuff from him) I've already made back my purchase price. So I pay him and notice that his wife has conveniently gone into the house. I catch his attention and slip the disc to him, saying I wanted to make sure that the ladies were gone first. He thanks me profusely, then gives me some garbage about how he was supposed to be selling them for his brother. Yeah, right, whatever buddy. Save it for someone who might believe you. When his wife comes back out he asks her to hold down the fort (so he can dispose of, or re-hide, as the case may be, the goods).

I just wish people could be more honest with each other. Like this guy with his wife, for example. I don't really expect him to be forthright with me, a total stranger, but...I'd hope you'd be able to share anything with your mate. I know, I know...among others, this is one of the reasons that I have an ex. So I guess I've just learned a lesson that some others, this fella among them, have yet to learn.