Posts
I start a Spanish class tomorrow! I signed up for it because I decided I wanted to know what the caretakers are saying to each other. I hate it when they are helping me and they talk to each other in Spanish and then stand there and stare at me and giggle hysterically. I also wanted to be able to say to them things such as "I want my blue tee-shirt. It is in the second drawer of the shelves on the left as you walk in the closet." So I signed up and paid for a Spanish class and it starts tomorrow.
Only problem is that most of the Spanish speaking caretakers are now gone. There is a rapid turnover in the caregiver business! The new group seems mainly to be from Nepal. I don't even know what language is spoken in Nepal. Please wait and I'll look it up on the internet... Hmmmm... The official language is Nepali. I don't think it would be an enormously useful language to know, as it is spoken only also spoken in Bhutan, parts of India and parts of Myanmar (Burma). I really don't envision myself traveling to any of those places in the near future.
Wow - I did find some phrases which might be useful:
malai thaha chhaina मलाई थाहा छैन- I don't know
malai tapaiko/timro sahayog chahinchha मलाई तपाईको सहयोग चाहिन्छ - I need your help.
ke tapain malai maddat garna saknuhuncha? के तपाईं मलाई मदत् गर्न सक्नुहुन्छ? - Can you help me?
pugyo पुग्यो — That is enough (mainly used while eating).
ke cha? के छ? - What's up? (informal), sañcai hunuhuncha? सञ्चै हुनुहुन्छ? - Doing well? (formal)
namaste. नमस्ते — "hello" or "goodbye."
shubhaprabhat शुभप्रभात - good morning
tapāī̃ko/timro nām ke ho? तपाईंको/तिम्रो नाम के हो? - What is your name?
I also found some I am not likely to use, inluding:
kāṭhmāḍaũ jāne bāṭo dherai lāmo cha. काठ्माडौँ जाने बाटो धेरै लामो छ — The road to Kathmandu is very long.
ma nepālī hũ म नेपाली हूँ — I am Nepali.
krishna ji ! hajur yuzana myanmar maa basnu hunchha ?कृष्ण जी !हजुर युजना म्यान्मा मा बस्नु हुन्छ ? dear krishna ! Do you live in yuzana myanmar ?
Monday, August 30, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Church directory
Hmmmm---
My blog counter on Thursday was 1088. Today it reads 1086. I knew it was a pretty bad post, but I didn't know it was THAT bad.
It is the church's anniversary, and one of the ladies asked if I might have any of the many photos David had taken over the years of church functions. I asked Ron, and he pulled them off David's hard drive and put them on a CD for me. There are literally thousands of them dating from the mid 90's foreward. When I look at the variety of work he did and realize the amount of imagination and leadership and hard work involved, I recognize all over again that he was a professional genius.
Here are some pictures:
\
These are just a couple of a jillion pictures Ron found. They're some of the few that feature David. Had he seen these, he wouldn't have liked them at all, because they all feature him. He would have said, "That's not the point!" He said that every time I took pictures of him and not the church members. (Not that I took most of the pictures - he did.)
My blog counter on Thursday was 1088. Today it reads 1086. I knew it was a pretty bad post, but I didn't know it was THAT bad.
It is the church's anniversary, and one of the ladies asked if I might have any of the many photos David had taken over the years of church functions. I asked Ron, and he pulled them off David's hard drive and put them on a CD for me. There are literally thousands of them dating from the mid 90's foreward. When I look at the variety of work he did and realize the amount of imagination and leadership and hard work involved, I recognize all over again that he was a professional genius.
Here are some pictures:
\
These are just a couple of a jillion pictures Ron found. They're some of the few that feature David. Had he seen these, he wouldn't have liked them at all, because they all feature him. He would have said, "That's not the point!" He said that every time I took pictures of him and not the church members. (Not that I took most of the pictures - he did.)
Friday, August 27, 2010
Running just as fast as I can
I went home today for lunch because Aunt Ruth and Uncle Dick Koweleski dropped by. They are passing through, and live in Pennsylvania. I remember staying with them when my siblings and I were just little kids. Once, many years ago, Dad told my little brother that he could not tell any Pollack jokes because Uncle Dick is Polish. Pollack jokes were my brother's favorite thing in the world (he was about 8 years old), so he changed them to Irish jokes and told them anyway. One was:
Q- How can you tell that a plane is from a Polish airlines? A- By the hair under its wings.
Wow - I just managed to insult two ethnic groups with one joke. Please don't burn down my house!
Q- How can you tell that a plane is from a Polish airlines? A- By the hair under its wings.
Wow - I just managed to insult two ethnic groups with one joke. Please don't burn down my house!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Disabiliy Blog
I've been reading articles about "How to get blog hits" and "How to make money off a blog", and the secret seems to be to develop a specific audience and to gear ads toward that audience. They then click on the ads and I earn money. It is not allowed for me just to put a big section in my blog that says, "Click on my ads and I earn money." The content of the ads they send me depends on the content of the articles I write. (As is evidenced by the fact that I once said I was a fountain of knowledge and my blog carried ads for decorative fountains for weeks. Now I've said it again, so you can expect more fountain ads!
Anyway, the idea is to focus on a specific audience and to write articles of interest to that audience, thus attracting ads geared to that audience, which they then click on, thereby earning me money. Groovy. But it does not sound like anywhere near as much fun as writing about whatever happens to pass through my mind at any given moment.
So, I guess on the rare occasions when I'm feeling like I should be productive, I'll gear articles toward my natural audience. And I guess my natural audience is people who have disabilities.
Maybe I can even attract ads for things I want myself and don't know where to get. Some of them are:
1. a wheelchair that fully reclines. It would be great to take naps right in the chair.
2. a wheelchair that climbs stairs. I saw them on TV once, and they were outrageously expensive, but I've not seen them since. Do they exist? Do they really work?
3. a scooter that beeps when it backs up.
4. a scooter or wheelchair with a radio. Yes, one can wear an MP3 device, but that scares me. I find it is good to be able to hear approaching vehicles or pedestrians!
Do you suppose it might be possible to make a scooter or wheelchair with a built-in umbrella or roof?
Which reminds me of a joke. A brunette, a redhead, and a blond are going into the Sahara desert on a trip. A TV reporter interviews them as they leave. He says to the brunette "I see you are taking an umbrella. Why?" The brunette says. "If the sun gets hot, we can stand under the umbrella in the shade."
"OK" the reporter says. Turning to the redhead, he says, "I see you brought bottles of water. Why?"
The redhead answers, "If it gets hot, we can drink the water to refresh ourselves,"
"OK" the reporter says.
Then he turns to the blond. He sees that she has removed the door from a junked car and is holding it. "Goodness" he says. "What do you plan to do with that door?"
"Well," the blond replies. "if it gets real hot, I can roll down the windows!"
Anyway, the idea is to focus on a specific audience and to write articles of interest to that audience, thus attracting ads geared to that audience, which they then click on, thereby earning me money. Groovy. But it does not sound like anywhere near as much fun as writing about whatever happens to pass through my mind at any given moment.
So, I guess on the rare occasions when I'm feeling like I should be productive, I'll gear articles toward my natural audience. And I guess my natural audience is people who have disabilities.
Maybe I can even attract ads for things I want myself and don't know where to get. Some of them are:
1. a wheelchair that fully reclines. It would be great to take naps right in the chair.
2. a wheelchair that climbs stairs. I saw them on TV once, and they were outrageously expensive, but I've not seen them since. Do they exist? Do they really work?
3. a scooter that beeps when it backs up.
4. a scooter or wheelchair with a radio. Yes, one can wear an MP3 device, but that scares me. I find it is good to be able to hear approaching vehicles or pedestrians!
Do you suppose it might be possible to make a scooter or wheelchair with a built-in umbrella or roof?
Which reminds me of a joke. A brunette, a redhead, and a blond are going into the Sahara desert on a trip. A TV reporter interviews them as they leave. He says to the brunette "I see you are taking an umbrella. Why?" The brunette says. "If the sun gets hot, we can stand under the umbrella in the shade."
"OK" the reporter says. Turning to the redhead, he says, "I see you brought bottles of water. Why?"
The redhead answers, "If it gets hot, we can drink the water to refresh ourselves,"
"OK" the reporter says.
Then he turns to the blond. He sees that she has removed the door from a junked car and is holding it. "Goodness" he says. "What do you plan to do with that door?"
"Well," the blond replies. "if it gets real hot, I can roll down the windows!"
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Buddhism
Leading the Sunday School discussion about Buddhism went OK, but mainly because nobody much came, and, of those that came, nobody much cared. Maybe that's not fair of me. Seeing that the actual point of the book is that one cannot worship God using any of the 8 major religions interchangeably because 7 of them are wrong, this is probably the kind of chapter on Buddhism, one should expect. It made a very serious religion seem laughable, though. He really didn't seem to try to understand, or to present the belief in a balanced manner. He also chose to use inflammatory language when talking about the religion, for instance, he uses the term "fairy tale" to talk about some of the "old testament" Buddhist stories. Would he call "Noah's ark" a. fairy tale?
I got to tell my favorite Buddhist teaching, though. It is that a monk goes to the Master and asks, "Master, what must I do to attain enlightenment?", and the Master pulls out a sword and cuts off the monk's arm!
Having taken 4 or 5 classes in Buddhism about 30 years ago, that story actually makes a vague sort of sense to me. The real reason I remember it, though, is because I used to hang around the "Green Room" in the Culbreth Theater between classes and study, and this was one of the stories I read out loud to the other drama majors who were hanging around, and they all just hooted.
I got to tell my favorite Buddhist teaching, though. It is that a monk goes to the Master and asks, "Master, what must I do to attain enlightenment?", and the Master pulls out a sword and cuts off the monk's arm!
Having taken 4 or 5 classes in Buddhism about 30 years ago, that story actually makes a vague sort of sense to me. The real reason I remember it, though, is because I used to hang around the "Green Room" in the Culbreth Theater between classes and study, and this was one of the stories I read out loud to the other drama majors who were hanging around, and they all just hooted.
Monday, August 23, 2010
art
I went to "The American Art museum"/"National Portrait Gallery" with Mom today on Metro Access because I told her ae had to go see the Norman Rockwell
exhibit that George Lucas/Stephen King loaned. The Museum is located at Eighth and F Streets, NW, Washington, D.C. above the Gallery Place-Chinatown Metrorail station (Red, Yellow and Green lines).
Mom and I both really wished Dad felt better and were able to come see it, because we agreed that he'd love it. At this point, though, just getting up and out is quite difficult for him. I wish he could get a whole lot more physical theerapy.
I wish I could get a whole lot more physical theerapy.
The problem in both our cases is that the insurance puts so many limits on what they will cover. I wonder how much it would cost me to to pay out of poket? That has just gone on my list of things to find out immediately. Then I could pay and write therapy off on my taxes.
Anyway, the exhibit was great fun. Mom loved it. So did I. More tomorrow.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Discussion
My friend Bill, a fellow resident here at the "home", is going quite deaf. Sometimes his hearing aide "sort of" works, and sometimes it doesn't work at all. After dinner yesterday, I told him I was going to go outside and read for a while. He said, "Why?!" I said, "I just need to read some." He said, "Why?" I shouted, "I WANT TO FINISH MY BOOK." He said, "Oh. I thought you said you were going outside to weed!"
So I told this story in Sunday School this morning, and the Pastor respoonded with the phrase "Weed it and reap."
Which just goes to show you to what depths serious discussion can devolve when I am the appointed discussion leader.
So I told this story in Sunday School this morning, and the Pastor respoonded with the phrase "Weed it and reap."
Which just goes to show you to what depths serious discussion can devolve when I am the appointed discussion leader.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Discussion Leader
Guess what! I am supposed to lead the Sunday School class discussion on Sunday. The last time I was actively involved in Sunday School was when I taught the Junior High class when I was in college, and I only did that because incredibly handsome Cliff (his real name) was the co-teacher.
I guess that means I need to read the relevant chapter of the book that the class is reading!
Actually, I did start reading some of the chapter, and I don't like it. We are reading "God is Not One" by Stephen R. Prothero. The premise off the book is that one cannot practice just any of the 8 major religions and say. "What does it matter which religion I use? They all worship God." because they are all fundamentally different and don't worship the same god. We are reading the chapter on Buddhism, and I was asked to lead the discussion because I once told them that I'd "sort of" majored in Buddhism in college.
The reason that I "sort of" majored in Buddhism in college is that my real major was in drama. That got Dad ballistic, though. He kept shouting, "What kind of major is drama? What kind of class is 'Voice and Diction'? What kind of a job do you get with a drama major?!!" So, since he was a preacher, I double majored in religion. That was a useless gesture, because that major isn't employable, either.
I'll tell you more about the book later.
I guess that means I need to read the relevant chapter of the book that the class is reading!
Actually, I did start reading some of the chapter, and I don't like it. We are reading "God is Not One" by Stephen R. Prothero. The premise off the book is that one cannot practice just any of the 8 major religions and say. "What does it matter which religion I use? They all worship God." because they are all fundamentally different and don't worship the same god. We are reading the chapter on Buddhism, and I was asked to lead the discussion because I once told them that I'd "sort of" majored in Buddhism in college.
The reason that I "sort of" majored in Buddhism in college is that my real major was in drama. That got Dad ballistic, though. He kept shouting, "What kind of major is drama? What kind of class is 'Voice and Diction'? What kind of a job do you get with a drama major?!!" So, since he was a preacher, I double majored in religion. That was a useless gesture, because that major isn't employable, either.
I'll tell you more about the book later.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Caution - love story involved
This post takes us back to the museum. The reason why my posts often end abruptly is that the caretakers show up at an unexpected time and I have to go immediately, Believe me, when the caretakers actually show up, one NEVER sends them away. They are a hot commodity!"
While looking at the permanent collection, I found a picture of someone I'd never heard of before, but yet I am sure was me in a former life. His name is Bayard Taylor, 1825-785. He wrote travelogues for the New York Post" in verse! No, they were not in verse for any particular reason. He just liked writing in verse! He wrote parodies of Whitman, I am completely convinced he must have been me! The picture of him in the National Gallery just sort of leaped out at me and made me look at it. And, another similarity, the picture was of him sitting on a rug and smoking a hookah! Although this is not that picture. It's just a picture of a mouse on a rug smoking a hookah.
I called Mom this morning and told her about the exhibit, and we are going to go together next Monday. She doesn't think Dad will be up for it, which is probably true, but which is too bad.
I'll see if I can maybe arrange for a longer trip on Monday, 'cause Mom would be very interested in all the historical portraits. She majored in history.
Mom got her undergraduate degree in history about TWO WEEKS BEFORE I GOT MY DEGREE!!. You have to admire Mom's determination! She originally dropped out of college after her sophomore year. Her parents didn't have enough money to have 2 kids in college at the same time, so when her brother got in school, she had to drop out, She and Dad reacted to that by eloping! They didn't tell anyone in school, not even their roommates, except for a couple of friends they took along as witnesses. Then they ran off and married. They went to Cumberland Falls to honeymoon, and then went back to school and lived in separate dorms until the end of the year! At the end of the school year, they both went back to Dad's home in Wilkes Barre, PA to live with Pop and Granny for the summer. In the fall, they moved to Boston , where Dad attended Boston University and Mom got a job. Dad says that the bus that took her to work each morning would first go up their street one way, and then turn around at the end of the street and some back down, and Mom would wait in bed until she'd heard it go by one way, then would leap out of be and be waiting outside by the time it came back down the other.
Mom was determined to get her college deegree, though. She raised 3 kids, and managed to do all the Den mother, and Girl Scout leader, and Sunday School teacher, etc, etc, etc. stuff. She also worked, on and off, as a substitute teacher, and even as a full time teacher at the alternative school in Charlottesville - this was where they sent students who were suspended from regular school so that they didn't just get a vacation. More about this later - there are some funny stories! Anyway, through all this, Mom kept taking one or two college classes at a time. Finally, when Mom ansd Dad lived in Harrisonburg, she could drive across the mountain to Fredericksburg, and take several classes at Mary Washington. I'm just really proud of her for finishing.
While looking at the permanent collection, I found a picture of someone I'd never heard of before, but yet I am sure was me in a former life. His name is Bayard Taylor, 1825-785. He wrote travelogues for the New York Post" in verse! No, they were not in verse for any particular reason. He just liked writing in verse! He wrote parodies of Whitman, I am completely convinced he must have been me! The picture of him in the National Gallery just sort of leaped out at me and made me look at it. And, another similarity, the picture was of him sitting on a rug and smoking a hookah! Although this is not that picture. It's just a picture of a mouse on a rug smoking a hookah.
I called Mom this morning and told her about the exhibit, and we are going to go together next Monday. She doesn't think Dad will be up for it, which is probably true, but which is too bad.
I'll see if I can maybe arrange for a longer trip on Monday, 'cause Mom would be very interested in all the historical portraits. She majored in history.
Mom got her undergraduate degree in history about TWO WEEKS BEFORE I GOT MY DEGREE!!. You have to admire Mom's determination! She originally dropped out of college after her sophomore year. Her parents didn't have enough money to have 2 kids in college at the same time, so when her brother got in school, she had to drop out, She and Dad reacted to that by eloping! They didn't tell anyone in school, not even their roommates, except for a couple of friends they took along as witnesses. Then they ran off and married. They went to Cumberland Falls to honeymoon, and then went back to school and lived in separate dorms until the end of the year! At the end of the school year, they both went back to Dad's home in Wilkes Barre, PA to live with Pop and Granny for the summer. In the fall, they moved to Boston , where Dad attended Boston University and Mom got a job. Dad says that the bus that took her to work each morning would first go up their street one way, and then turn around at the end of the street and some back down, and Mom would wait in bed until she'd heard it go by one way, then would leap out of be and be waiting outside by the time it came back down the other.
Mom was determined to get her college deegree, though. She raised 3 kids, and managed to do all the Den mother, and Girl Scout leader, and Sunday School teacher, etc, etc, etc. stuff. She also worked, on and off, as a substitute teacher, and even as a full time teacher at the alternative school in Charlottesville - this was where they sent students who were suspended from regular school so that they didn't just get a vacation. More about this later - there are some funny stories! Anyway, through all this, Mom kept taking one or two college classes at a time. Finally, when Mom ansd Dad lived in Harrisonburg, she could drive across the mountain to Fredericksburg, and take several classes at Mary Washington. I'm just really proud of her for finishing.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
art
Well, I did go to the National Portrat Gallery and the adjoining American Art Museum, and I did have a wonderful time, but, reading through yesterdays entry, I saw nothing that I planned to see. That's really great, though, because it means I get to go back and see the stuff I'd planned to see!
The first thing I toured was the exhibit of Norman Rockwell paintings which were loaned to the museum by George Lucas ad Steven Spielburg. That was just plain neat. It ws all the wonderful Norman Rockwell pictures of Americana. Mom and Dad would love it, so I think I'll call them and see if they won't go back with me on Metro Acccess. They wouldn't have to do anything physical but walk through the exhibit, so I think even Dad could do it. I told Jolie, who is the only sensible administrator here, that the residents here would enjoy it and that they should take a bus load of residents to see it. Field trips don't fall in Jolie's sphere of responsibility, though, and it sounds like it would take work, so I doubt it ever happens.
I did see the Elvis exhibit, which is one of the things I said yesterday that I wanted to see, but it was pretty much nothing.
The first thing I toured was the exhibit of Norman Rockwell paintings which were loaned to the museum by George Lucas ad Steven Spielburg. That was just plain neat. It ws all the wonderful Norman Rockwell pictures of Americana. Mom and Dad would love it, so I think I'll call them and see if they won't go back with me on Metro Acccess. They wouldn't have to do anything physical but walk through the exhibit, so I think even Dad could do it. I told Jolie, who is the only sensible administrator here, that the residents here would enjoy it and that they should take a bus load of residents to see it. Field trips don't fall in Jolie's sphere of responsibility, though, and it sounds like it would take work, so I doubt it ever happens.
I did see the Elvis exhibit, which is one of the things I said yesterday that I wanted to see, but it was pretty much nothing.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Plans
I didn't do anything or go anywhere today, so I'm very ready to blow this joint.
Just a side note, speaking of blowing this joint, the woman I eat breakfast with stuck her fork in her poached egg and there was an audible "pop", and the egg exploded. Literally. Pieces of egg went everywhere.
The reason I stayed at here today is because I went to church yesterday yesterday and then to Ma and Pa's for lunch, and by the time I'd returned from all that, I was content to just sit around, and forgot that I'd be crazy today if I had nothing to do.
So this afternoon I made plans for tomorrow. I plan to go to the National Poitrait Gallery because I've never been there, and because they have a really cool Elvis exhibit which is only there through 8/29. I see that they also have "From FDR to Obama: Presidents on Time", which is poitraits of the various presidents on the cover of Time magazine. . It should also be interesting to see the permanant collection. Of the presidential poitraits in the permanant collection, the Portrait Gallery Website says "Visitors will see an enhanced and extended display of multiple images of forty-three presidents of the United States, including Gilbert Stuart’s “Lansdowne” portrait of George Washington, the famous “cracked plate” photograph of Abraham Lincoln and whimsical sculptures of Presidents Lyndon Johnson, Jimmy Carter, Richard Nixon and George H. W. Bush by noted caricaturist Pat Oliphant. Presidents Washington, Andrew Jackson, Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt and Franklin D. Roosevelt will be given expanded attention because of their significant impact on the office. Presidents from FDR to Bill Clinton are featured in a video component of the exhibit." It sounds totally fascinating.
Just a side note, speaking of blowing this joint, the woman I eat breakfast with stuck her fork in her poached egg and there was an audible "pop", and the egg exploded. Literally. Pieces of egg went everywhere.
The reason I stayed at here today is because I went to church yesterday yesterday and then to Ma and Pa's for lunch, and by the time I'd returned from all that, I was content to just sit around, and forgot that I'd be crazy today if I had nothing to do.
So this afternoon I made plans for tomorrow. I plan to go to the National Poitrait Gallery because I've never been there, and because they have a really cool Elvis exhibit which is only there through 8/29. I see that they also have "From FDR to Obama: Presidents on Time", which is poitraits of the various presidents on the cover of Time magazine. . It should also be interesting to see the permanant collection. Of the presidential poitraits in the permanant collection, the Portrait Gallery Website says "Visitors will see an enhanced and extended display of multiple images of forty-three presidents of the United States, including Gilbert Stuart’s “Lansdowne” portrait of George Washington, the famous “cracked plate” photograph of Abraham Lincoln and whimsical sculptures of Presidents Lyndon Johnson, Jimmy Carter, Richard Nixon and George H. W. Bush by noted caricaturist Pat Oliphant. Presidents Washington, Andrew Jackson, Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt and Franklin D. Roosevelt will be given expanded attention because of their significant impact on the office. Presidents from FDR to Bill Clinton are featured in a video component of the exhibit." It sounds totally fascinating.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
bummer of a day
Sometimes it just ain‘t easy.
I had an experience with two “caregivers” today that pretty much left me devastated. Lets hope they don’t kick me out of here because of it. I did not yell at anyone. I just sobbed uncontrollably, as can be attested to by the lovely caregiver that took over on the next shift and scraped what was left of me up off the floor.
I knew all along that I was not allowed to express any sort of disapproval to the workers. If the caregivers were to claim I yelled at them, they’d be lying.
Not that lying is unheard of. On Friday, there was no hot water, and thus no bath. Please remember that I pay a whole lot of extra money to get 5 baths a week. The normal fee only covers 2 per week. I was told, “Tyree will be here to fix it in 45 minutes. You can get a bath then.” That was a total fabrication.
So why did they lie to me? I wasn’t up in their faces demanding answers or anything. I just knew they had called Tyree, and asked what she’d said, and that is what I was told. Had they told me the truth, which was ”Tyree will come in and fix it tomorrow morning” I would have been content
I had an experience with two “caregivers” today that pretty much left me devastated. Lets hope they don’t kick me out of here because of it. I did not yell at anyone. I just sobbed uncontrollably, as can be attested to by the lovely caregiver that took over on the next shift and scraped what was left of me up off the floor.
I knew all along that I was not allowed to express any sort of disapproval to the workers. If the caregivers were to claim I yelled at them, they’d be lying.
Not that lying is unheard of. On Friday, there was no hot water, and thus no bath. Please remember that I pay a whole lot of extra money to get 5 baths a week. The normal fee only covers 2 per week. I was told, “Tyree will be here to fix it in 45 minutes. You can get a bath then.” That was a total fabrication.
So why did they lie to me? I wasn’t up in their faces demanding answers or anything. I just knew they had called Tyree, and asked what she’d said, and that is what I was told. Had they told me the truth, which was ”Tyree will come in and fix it tomorrow morning” I would have been content
Friday, August 13, 2010
choir jokes
CHOIR JOKES
Q: How many tenors does it take to change a light bulb?
A: Six. One to do it, and five to say, "It's too high for him.”
Q: How many altos does it take to change a light bulb?
A: None. They can't get up that high.
Q: How many sopranos does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: One. She holds the bulb and the world revolves around her
Q: How many basses does it take to change a lightbulb?
A:None. They're so macho they prefer to walk in the dark and bang their shins.
What's the difference between a soprano and the PLO?
You can negotiate with the PLO.
What's the difference between an alto and a tenor?
Tenors don't have hair on their backs.
What's the definition of an optimist?
A choral director with a mortgage.
Q. What do you call a Soprano who can sight read?
A. An Alto
Q. How do you put a twinkle in a Soprano's eye?
A..Shine a flashlight in her ear
Q: How many tenors does it take to change a light bulb?
A: Six. One to do it, and five to say, "It's too high for him.”
Q: How many altos does it take to change a light bulb?
A: None. They can't get up that high.
Q: How many sopranos does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: One. She holds the bulb and the world revolves around her
Q: How many basses does it take to change a lightbulb?
A:None. They're so macho they prefer to walk in the dark and bang their shins.
What's the difference between a soprano and the PLO?
You can negotiate with the PLO.
What's the difference between an alto and a tenor?
Tenors don't have hair on their backs.
What's the definition of an optimist?
A choral director with a mortgage.
Q. What do you call a Soprano who can sight read?
A. An Alto
Q. How do you put a twinkle in a Soprano's eye?
A..Shine a flashlight in her ear
Thursday, August 12, 2010
divine intervention
I went to church to assemble bulletins today and the weirdest thing happened... I was completely all alone in the church. The secretary and pastor are on vacation, so I was the only one who'd been there all day. I was just sitting in the little work room working away, when all of a sudden the Xerox machine started making ominous noises and then it started working, acting like it was copying something, and spit out a piece of paper. Being that I was at the church, I of course decided it was a message from God. I picked it up with trembling hand and read it with great trepidation...
It was an ad for roof re-tarring.
Had I a roof, I would tar it immediately. As it is, though, I don't quite know what to do with this, and am beginning to doubt that it is of divine origin.
It was an ad for roof re-tarring.
Had I a roof, I would tar it immediately. As it is, though, I don't quite know what to do with this, and am beginning to doubt that it is of divine origin.
Monday, August 9, 2010
activities
I told you before about this miserable old woman resident that sits down in the lobby all day and yells at people. Usually I just speed past her, but lately I've been answering if she asked a logical question. But no more. That just encourages her.
Today she yelled after me, "Is my family coming today?!"
I said,"I don't know."
She said, "Do you know anything at all?"
Much of the problem is that the residents don't really have anything at all to do here except eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner on schedule. For the most part their time isn't structured at all. There are occasional bingo games, which are well attended. The activities director plans stuff like word games and supervised discussions, called "socials", and there is a core group of residents who participate, but many of the residents aren't interested. Often people just sit aimlessly in their wheelchairs in the lobby or in the "ice cream parlor", which is actually the big activities room. I don't know why they call it "ice cream parlor". I've never seen ice cream served there!
Actually, I drive the activities director crazy because I've never participated in any of her activities. They are all geared toward the mentally compromised. I guess that pretty well sums up the difficulties I've encountered here - the entire staff assumes that being in a wheelchair affects mental ability.
I was out on the front porch this morning reading the Post on my Kindle. The activities director came out and said, "It's going to be too hot to sit outside later." I said, "Uh-Huh". but thought, "Which is why I'm sitting out now, Lady!" She said, "This afternoon we're playing Big Word, Little Word, a game where we all make as many words as we can from a big word. It'll be FUN! Why don't you join us?"
So what does one say to that?
What I said was, "No thank you."
What I wanted to say was, "If I'm ever in such poor shape that I enjoy playing Big Word, Little Word with a bunch of octogenarians, then just shoot me and put me out of my misery!"
Except that I doubted she knew what "octogenarians" meant, and I really didn't want to start a whole new conversation.
Everyone doesn't need to write and tell me not to be so sensitive and thin-skinned, and to have a more upbeat attitude. I know all that. I guess I just wanted to illustrate the point that being assumed to be slow-witted all the time creates a very hostile environment. To which I guess I react with hostility. But I've been here for a long time, paying LOT of money. There are probably less than 50 residents in here. She is a professional staff person. Isn't it her job try to get to know the residents and to provide apppropriate activities?
Anyway. lets go back and talk about the Kindle, which is the wireless reading machine that Amazon sells. I love mine. I can carry my whole library around all the time. It is much smaller and more compact than a book or newspaper, and it has a dictionary built in, so it is easy to look stuff up. I love it that I can carry my whole library all the time. What I don't like so far is that it doesn't have the Post's death notices or editorial cartoons.
I love edritorial cartoons. The funniest I ever saw showed 2 Arabs and Michael Jackson standing in the desert. The caption has one of the Arabs saying, "So, Ossama, where did you get your plastic surgery?"
Today she yelled after me, "Is my family coming today?!"
I said,"I don't know."
She said, "Do you know anything at all?"
Much of the problem is that the residents don't really have anything at all to do here except eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner on schedule. For the most part their time isn't structured at all. There are occasional bingo games, which are well attended. The activities director plans stuff like word games and supervised discussions, called "socials", and there is a core group of residents who participate, but many of the residents aren't interested. Often people just sit aimlessly in their wheelchairs in the lobby or in the "ice cream parlor", which is actually the big activities room. I don't know why they call it "ice cream parlor". I've never seen ice cream served there!
Actually, I drive the activities director crazy because I've never participated in any of her activities. They are all geared toward the mentally compromised. I guess that pretty well sums up the difficulties I've encountered here - the entire staff assumes that being in a wheelchair affects mental ability.
I was out on the front porch this morning reading the Post on my Kindle. The activities director came out and said, "It's going to be too hot to sit outside later." I said, "Uh-Huh". but thought, "Which is why I'm sitting out now, Lady!" She said, "This afternoon we're playing Big Word, Little Word, a game where we all make as many words as we can from a big word. It'll be FUN! Why don't you join us?"
So what does one say to that?
What I said was, "No thank you."
What I wanted to say was, "If I'm ever in such poor shape that I enjoy playing Big Word, Little Word with a bunch of octogenarians, then just shoot me and put me out of my misery!"
Except that I doubted she knew what "octogenarians" meant, and I really didn't want to start a whole new conversation.
Everyone doesn't need to write and tell me not to be so sensitive and thin-skinned, and to have a more upbeat attitude. I know all that. I guess I just wanted to illustrate the point that being assumed to be slow-witted all the time creates a very hostile environment. To which I guess I react with hostility. But I've been here for a long time, paying LOT of money. There are probably less than 50 residents in here. She is a professional staff person. Isn't it her job try to get to know the residents and to provide apppropriate activities?
Anyway. lets go back and talk about the Kindle, which is the wireless reading machine that Amazon sells. I love mine. I can carry my whole library around all the time. It is much smaller and more compact than a book or newspaper, and it has a dictionary built in, so it is easy to look stuff up. I love it that I can carry my whole library all the time. What I don't like so far is that it doesn't have the Post's death notices or editorial cartoons.
I love edritorial cartoons. The funniest I ever saw showed 2 Arabs and Michael Jackson standing in the desert. The caption has one of the Arabs saying, "So, Ossama, where did you get your plastic surgery?"
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Native American
Today was a nice, warm Sunday. I went to church in the AM - no big deal. except that I left after the service, and got to the restaurant where I was eating lunch and realized that I had an entire hymnal in my scooter basket... I ran back down to the church to return it and this woman asked me to lead the Sunday School discussion of Buddhism that happens in a couple weeks, because I'd mentioned that I'd sort of majored in Buddhism in college... which I did, sort of. I guess this means that I actually have to read the book they are using. Or at least the Buddhism chapter. Which just goes to show you - always just go ahead and steal the hymnal!
Yesterday was another beautiful day. I went down to the "Living Earth" festival at the National Museum of the American Indian. It was real neat. I'd already toured the exhibits in the museum, so I just went to the special stuff. They had people weaving baskets, and cooking on big barbecue contraptions, and a Native American Art Market, at which I purchased just a few little things. One is a framed print depicting the Native American's concept of "nature". The cool part is that the artist who had created the print is the person who sold it to me, and she told me what it means. It's a nice, lively addition to this dreary room. Right before I left, they had a family on the main stage who did story telling, and singing and dancing and hoop dancing.
Yesterday was another beautiful day. I went down to the "Living Earth" festival at the National Museum of the American Indian. It was real neat. I'd already toured the exhibits in the museum, so I just went to the special stuff. They had people weaving baskets, and cooking on big barbecue contraptions, and a Native American Art Market, at which I purchased just a few little things. One is a framed print depicting the Native American's concept of "nature". The cool part is that the artist who had created the print is the person who sold it to me, and she told me what it means. It's a nice, lively addition to this dreary room. Right before I left, they had a family on the main stage who did story telling, and singing and dancing and hoop dancing.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
chicks
I did something really great today. I'll tell you about it tomorrow. But first, since I promised a story about baby chicks, I'll give you the short version. We lived in the new house in Roanoke. The Taylor kids ages were about 1, 4, and 7. Mom and Dad bought us 3 cute little fuzzy chicks one Easter. Cool, huh?
Except that, when chicks grow up, which these did, they become chickens. Or, in this case, roosters.
I'll never forget those roosters flying around the family room.
After awhile, the conversation finally happened. I remember a distressed Mom saying, "We can't just have chickens flying around the house. What if a church member comes over?!"
Soon after, Dad mysteriously found a farm that would love to adopt 3 resident pet roosters. We kids were told that the farmer would keep them as pets, too, and not hurt them.
I think Mom still believes this.
Probably, if I were a better person, I would too.
Except that, when chicks grow up, which these did, they become chickens. Or, in this case, roosters.
I'll never forget those roosters flying around the family room.
After awhile, the conversation finally happened. I remember a distressed Mom saying, "We can't just have chickens flying around the house. What if a church member comes over?!"
Soon after, Dad mysteriously found a farm that would love to adopt 3 resident pet roosters. We kids were told that the farmer would keep them as pets, too, and not hurt them.
I think Mom still believes this.
Probably, if I were a better person, I would too.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Beatles
I remember being on the side porch of the house in Roanoke, playing with my brother, when Mom and Dad, excited, called us inside to see something on TV. It was this bunch of guys in a band. Everyone was talking about them, they said, and they played silly music and had real long hair. We all watched in rapt attention as the Beatles played their gig on Ed Sullivan. I remember Mom and Dad laughing at how Ringo didn't sing, but just played drums. Isn't it amazing how the memory of that event stuck with me my whole life? It's almost like I knew I was witnessing history being made.
It was not long after that when we moved to the larger house in Roanoke. Dad had told the church they had to get a new parsonage because that one wasn't big enough to raise children in. It was at that point that I realized the downside of having a same sex sibling - I had to share a room with Sue, and Ed had his own room. The little jerk.
It was a pretty cool house, though, For one thing, it was right up the hill from my school. I could walk every day, and I loved that, because walking meant freedom.
One time, in the snow, Mom slipped getting out of the car and slid all the way down that, huge steep hill. She landed in some neighbor's yard. We kids laughed and laughed to see her go sliding past like that, but we got into all kinds of trouble with dad!
Gotta go. Tomorrow - baby chicks!
d
It was not long after that when we moved to the larger house in Roanoke. Dad had told the church they had to get a new parsonage because that one wasn't big enough to raise children in. It was at that point that I realized the downside of having a same sex sibling - I had to share a room with Sue, and Ed had his own room. The little jerk.
It was a pretty cool house, though, For one thing, it was right up the hill from my school. I could walk every day, and I loved that, because walking meant freedom.
One time, in the snow, Mom slipped getting out of the car and slid all the way down that, huge steep hill. She landed in some neighbor's yard. We kids laughed and laughed to see her go sliding past like that, but we got into all kinds of trouble with dad!
Gotta go. Tomorrow - baby chicks!
d
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Susan's birth
Mom and Dad lived in a wee, tiny house in Roanoke,VA when Susan was born. Dad had Grace Methodist (they weren't "United" yet). The church is so small, they apparently don't have a website. I was 6 when Sue was born, and Ed was 3. Back in those ancient, long ago days, nobody knew the sex of a baby until it was born. (imagine!) I, of course, wanted a girl, Ed a boy. Mom and Dad's official position was that they didn't care. When Sue was born, Dad told us we had a new baby sister. Ed reacted by yelling over to the neighbor-boy and saying, "Johnny! Johnny! Our side lost!" This tale later became Granny's favorite anecdote, and was re-told until we were sick of it! (So I thought I would share it yet again!)
More tomotrrow - The Beatles!
More tomotrrow - The Beatles!
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
The Scream
I went to the National Gallery and saw the Edvard Munch exhibit. "The Scream" was great, of course, but the rest of the exhibit was also poignant and dramatic.
The copy of this shown at the gallery is a print.
This next print that I'll show you is "The Sick Child", and, considering that his sister died of TB when he was just a child, it chilled me even more than "The Sceam" did. It was like a real depiction of personal pain.
Lots of the exhibit was devoted to several versions of "Vampire".
Lots was devoted to Madonna.
Munch's mother and sister died when he was young, and his father was a morbidly religious psycotic. This, plus Edvard's own poor health and the vividly macabre ghost and Edgar Allen Poe stories that his father told the children to entertain them probably inspired the macabre visions depicted in Edvard's work.
Those of you readers who knew Dean Scott (if anyone, it is just Lloyd and Bobby Tyler), know this is the type art he'd love. Dean is a guy we used to know who delighted in the macabre.
The copy of this shown at the gallery is a print.This next print that I'll show you is "The Sick Child", and, considering that his sister died of TB when he was just a child, it chilled me even more than "The Sceam" did. It was like a real depiction of personal pain.
Lots of the exhibit was devoted to several versions of "Vampire".
Lots was devoted to Madonna.
Munch's mother and sister died when he was young, and his father was a morbidly religious psycotic. This, plus Edvard's own poor health and the vividly macabre ghost and Edgar Allen Poe stories that his father told the children to entertain them probably inspired the macabre visions depicted in Edvard's work.
Those of you readers who knew Dean Scott (if anyone, it is just Lloyd and Bobby Tyler), know this is the type art he'd love. Dean is a guy we used to know who delighted in the macabre.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Birthday
We had a real nice birthday party yesterday for Ron and Sue at Mom & Pops place. Shirley came, as did Martha. Sue is 47 today, and Ron is either 46 or 48. He's either one year older or one year younger. I forget which! I gave Sue a cool present (thanks to Lloyd!) which she loved! Lloyd scanned all the photos Sue & I had accumulated over the many years we lived together. I have always had all of them in my room. I gave her the photos and I kept the CDs of the scans. Ain't that cool?
Actually, I guess most of the credit for this cool present ought to go to Lloyd... Thank you, Lloyd!
Here is a picture or Lloyd looking buff and drinking a beer.
I have good news from Sunrise, for a change! They've decided I can pay extra money and get 5 baths a week! Remember, previously they had told me it just wasn't possible, so this is great news!
Actually, I guess most of the credit for this cool present ought to go to Lloyd... Thank you, Lloyd!
Here is a picture or Lloyd looking buff and drinking a beer.
I have good news from Sunrise, for a change! They've decided I can pay extra money and get 5 baths a week! Remember, previously they had told me it just wasn't possible, so this is great news!
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