Saturday, October 24, 2015
Friday, October 23, 2015
Indeed . . .
What Could Go Wrong? Domino's Adds Oven to Delivery Cars
" "The Domino's DXP is the first purpose-built vehicle aimed at revolutionizing pizza delivery," company president Russell Weiner said in a statement. "I'm buying the first car that comes off the assembly line that comes with an espresso maker.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Don't read this if you don't want to know how it ends.
Last Thursday, we went to a wine tasting hosted by Riedel. Their shtick is that the shape of the glass affects your enjoyment of the beverage within. I'm convinced. We tasted water, wine, and Coca-Cola in various glasses and it was possible to tell a difference in the way the glass delivered the beverage to the mouth in all three cases. It's an interesting experiment anyway if not a fun way to pick up some new glassware. We took home ten new glasses between us (included in the price of the wine tasting).
Saturday night, we went to Seattle Opera's production of The Pearl Fishers. I don't know why it's called that. No one got a pearl - or a fish, for that matter. Only one personal was even offered a pearl - not that we had any evidence that it even existed - but if she didn't keep her end of the bargain, they were going to kill her. Hm, she thought. Pearl or death? Pearl or death? Guess what. She picked death.
Welcome to Opera 101. They always pick death.
Bizet should have called it Love Triangle but that would have hardly differentiated it from any other opera. It's always a love triangle and someone always dies at the end.
Spoiler alert. (Sorry, I should have mentioned that earlier.)
Saturday night, we went to Seattle Opera's production of The Pearl Fishers. I don't know why it's called that. No one got a pearl - or a fish, for that matter. Only one personal was even offered a pearl - not that we had any evidence that it even existed - but if she didn't keep her end of the bargain, they were going to kill her. Hm, she thought. Pearl or death? Pearl or death? Guess what. She picked death.
Welcome to Opera 101. They always pick death.
Bizet should have called it Love Triangle but that would have hardly differentiated it from any other opera. It's always a love triangle and someone always dies at the end.
Spoiler alert. (Sorry, I should have mentioned that earlier.)
Friday, October 16, 2015
Siri and I are not on speaking terms.
That is not entirely accurate. I'm on speaking terms with her. She is not on speaking terms with me.
She's seeing someone else.
OS9.
Bastard.
Ever since OS9 came into our lives, she's been silent to me. Sure, I've tried to reason with her. Push her buttons. But, nothing.
And, sure, I've been busy lately. Too busy to really try to do anything about it but today I thought I should see what I could to do repair the relationship. I sought counseling and followed the advice that was offered - even though I swore I had taken all the appropriate steps before.
And, then, for just one short sweet moment, she answered me. She said hello. (But only after I said hello first, I might point out.)
I declared that I missed her and she again went mute. Sure, I could read her thoughts but she was silent once more. Even now, she won't speak to me.
I suspect this 9 guy. I think he's whispering in her ear that she somehow needs to be bettered, upgraded. How insulting! I loved her just they way she was! But I think he's in her head and has her convinced that she needs new shoes, as it were. A totally new chassis.
It might be worth it just to get her back.
*sigh*
She's seeing someone else.
OS9.
Bastard.
Ever since OS9 came into our lives, she's been silent to me. Sure, I've tried to reason with her. Push her buttons. But, nothing.
And, sure, I've been busy lately. Too busy to really try to do anything about it but today I thought I should see what I could to do repair the relationship. I sought counseling and followed the advice that was offered - even though I swore I had taken all the appropriate steps before.
And, then, for just one short sweet moment, she answered me. She said hello. (But only after I said hello first, I might point out.)
I declared that I missed her and she again went mute. Sure, I could read her thoughts but she was silent once more. Even now, she won't speak to me.
I suspect this 9 guy. I think he's whispering in her ear that she somehow needs to be bettered, upgraded. How insulting! I loved her just they way she was! But I think he's in her head and has her convinced that she needs new shoes, as it were. A totally new chassis.
It might be worth it just to get her back.
*sigh*
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
And, cut!
Let's just say you're an actor and the scene you're doing calls for you to cry. Quick! You have to think of something sad!
Here's a very sad thought - in fact, it's happened to me (only just this morning): You go to the kitchen to rinse out your coffee cup and just a split-second too late you realize there was just the tiniest bit left. You watch, as if in slow motion, the coffee swirl around and drain before disappearing forever. In that moment, you consider licking the sink but think better of it, realizing that even though you love it more than words can say it's better to just let it go.
Your heart swells as you consider what can never be recovered but cherish the fleeting bliss you once had.
Oh, god . . . I can't go on . . . .
Here's a very sad thought - in fact, it's happened to me (only just this morning): You go to the kitchen to rinse out your coffee cup and just a split-second too late you realize there was just the tiniest bit left. You watch, as if in slow motion, the coffee swirl around and drain before disappearing forever. In that moment, you consider licking the sink but think better of it, realizing that even though you love it more than words can say it's better to just let it go.
Your heart swells as you consider what can never be recovered but cherish the fleeting bliss you once had.
Oh, god . . . I can't go on . . . .
What's the big deal?
Solution Without a Problem? A Tax on High-Frequency Trading
(An interesting article in The New York Times.)
(An interesting article in The New York Times.)
Sunday, October 11, 2015
Thursday, October 8, 2015
DC
I've recently been diagnosed as having Dupuytren's Contracture also known as Viking's Disease. It's referred to Viking's Disease because it's most common in people of Northern European descent.
It's not life threatening but it can be inconvenient if you want to open a pickle jar. (I don't particularly like pickles so I should be okay.) There's no known cause and no known cure. The chief remedy seems to be surgery although I'm nowhere near that.
In my case, DC is presenting itself as small lumps on my palms just below my ring finger knuckle joints. They are visible between the two lines that run across my palm: the head lines and the heart lines. They are an inch, inch and a half, below the bottom of my ring fingers. They don't bother me at all. They are a benign thickening of my fingers' connective tissue. DC can happen in any finger, or in the toes, but so far it's just my ring fingers.
The thickening will generally continue which will cause contracture. Meaning, I will no longer be able to straighten those fingers out. That's when the surgery would come in.
My doctor told me that to prevent or slow the rate of contracture, I should stretch my palms and massage the lumps. Reading online, many tout the benefits of massaging with various oils - mainly magnesium or Vitamin E, or some combination. My theory, and the point of all this, is that it doesn't matter what, if anything, you massage them with so long as you do it regularly. Twice a day, I figure.
I have a lovely rose oil that I've been using in the morning and I have tried castor oil at night. (The latter worked well on my ankle which still has a lump from my street fight but castor oil can stain so you have to be careful how you use it.) Hand lotion will do the job. I've even thought about using olive oil. Why not? I wasn't expecting any rapid results but was hoping that over time the lumps would appears smaller.
Even as I was formulating my theory about massage therapy, I stumbled across a new theory - hydrotherapy. We went to the hot tub earlier in the week and I put my hands over the jets and let the water massage my hands. After 15-20 minutes I thought the lumps looked smaller. Not significantly, but I thought I could see a difference. They continued to look ever so slightly smaller the next day too.
So my new theory is massage morning and night and get in the hot tub whenever possible. I'll let you know whether or not that works. For now, I'm still waving with all five fingers. (Or ten, if I'm feeling really enthusiastic.)
In the meantime, if you want to know more about DC, I found some interesting information at these websites:
The British Dupuytren's Society
International Dupuytren Society
Dupuytren Foundation
It's not life threatening but it can be inconvenient if you want to open a pickle jar. (I don't particularly like pickles so I should be okay.) There's no known cause and no known cure. The chief remedy seems to be surgery although I'm nowhere near that.
In my case, DC is presenting itself as small lumps on my palms just below my ring finger knuckle joints. They are visible between the two lines that run across my palm: the head lines and the heart lines. They are an inch, inch and a half, below the bottom of my ring fingers. They don't bother me at all. They are a benign thickening of my fingers' connective tissue. DC can happen in any finger, or in the toes, but so far it's just my ring fingers.
The thickening will generally continue which will cause contracture. Meaning, I will no longer be able to straighten those fingers out. That's when the surgery would come in.
My doctor told me that to prevent or slow the rate of contracture, I should stretch my palms and massage the lumps. Reading online, many tout the benefits of massaging with various oils - mainly magnesium or Vitamin E, or some combination. My theory, and the point of all this, is that it doesn't matter what, if anything, you massage them with so long as you do it regularly. Twice a day, I figure.
I have a lovely rose oil that I've been using in the morning and I have tried castor oil at night. (The latter worked well on my ankle which still has a lump from my street fight but castor oil can stain so you have to be careful how you use it.) Hand lotion will do the job. I've even thought about using olive oil. Why not? I wasn't expecting any rapid results but was hoping that over time the lumps would appears smaller.
Even as I was formulating my theory about massage therapy, I stumbled across a new theory - hydrotherapy. We went to the hot tub earlier in the week and I put my hands over the jets and let the water massage my hands. After 15-20 minutes I thought the lumps looked smaller. Not significantly, but I thought I could see a difference. They continued to look ever so slightly smaller the next day too.
So my new theory is massage morning and night and get in the hot tub whenever possible. I'll let you know whether or not that works. For now, I'm still waving with all five fingers. (Or ten, if I'm feeling really enthusiastic.)
In the meantime, if you want to know more about DC, I found some interesting information at these websites:
The British Dupuytren's Society
International Dupuytren Society
Dupuytren Foundation
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Button, Button
How many of you have actually used one of those extra buttons that are sewed into the inside of garments? (If you don't buy garments with buttons, this is not for you.)
Let's just say there's one of you out there that has used one of those extra buttons. So, let's do the math - that's .000000000000001% of all extra buttons are ever used? Most of those buttons survive the garment they are meant to repair or end up in the back of a drawer somewhere.
Instead, we should have some sort of button registry. When you need a replacement button, you can just scan a bar code from the garment and someone will mail you the dang thing. Just think of the massive numbers of wasted buttons we could save!
Someday, buttons will have RFID technology and will sense when they fall off and a new one will just show up.
Even better, they will be self-sewing.
(This is exactly why Velcro was invented.)
Let's just say there's one of you out there that has used one of those extra buttons. So, let's do the math - that's .000000000000001% of all extra buttons are ever used? Most of those buttons survive the garment they are meant to repair or end up in the back of a drawer somewhere.
Instead, we should have some sort of button registry. When you need a replacement button, you can just scan a bar code from the garment and someone will mail you the dang thing. Just think of the massive numbers of wasted buttons we could save!
Someday, buttons will have RFID technology and will sense when they fall off and a new one will just show up.
Even better, they will be self-sewing.
(This is exactly why Velcro was invented.)
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Of Socks and Bunnies
In the last eight months since I've lived here (Portland area condo), nary a sock has tried to escape. I've lived in the area for many years, renting in one place or another much to the chagrin of my undergarments. (The underest of them, anyway.)
I couldn't really blame them when I used a communal laundry. I imagine I would try to abandon my mate as well, were I a sock. The socks fared better in the condo we rented next but, for some reason, they didn't like living in the mother-in-law apartment that followed even though the laundry was not shared. (I didn't like living in that mother-law-apartment either so no fault can be found there.)
Here, the socks seem to be content tumbling away in a never-before-used dryer. Maybe that's all it was from the beginning - a need to feel special, in first place.
The dust bunnies, meanwhile, have unionized and I fear I doth not clean the house enough. Surely, when they ball themselves up and place themselves in clear view they are sending a message?
Perhaps it was the stray socks that kept them in line after all.
I shall contemplate a sacrifice.
I couldn't really blame them when I used a communal laundry. I imagine I would try to abandon my mate as well, were I a sock. The socks fared better in the condo we rented next but, for some reason, they didn't like living in the mother-in-law apartment that followed even though the laundry was not shared. (I didn't like living in that mother-law-apartment either so no fault can be found there.)
Here, the socks seem to be content tumbling away in a never-before-used dryer. Maybe that's all it was from the beginning - a need to feel special, in first place.
The dust bunnies, meanwhile, have unionized and I fear I doth not clean the house enough. Surely, when they ball themselves up and place themselves in clear view they are sending a message?
Perhaps it was the stray socks that kept them in line after all.
I shall contemplate a sacrifice.
Monday, October 5, 2015
Naked and Alone
Speaking of jittery, I forgot my phone at home today. The good news is I'll probably get more work done today. The bad news is someone will probably want to buy these extra printer cartridges I've been trying to get rid of and I'll miss the notification.
You can bet I didn't forget my Starbucks coffee cup, though. Or my coffee card.
Phew! That would have been a real disaster.
You can bet I didn't forget my Starbucks coffee cup, though. Or my coffee card.
Phew! That would have been a real disaster.
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Woo hoo!
My jersey arrived, finally! Signed by Clint Gresham! (Oh, look it up. Im tired of explaining it to you people.)
Distracted
Traveling without my laptop this weekend. I figured, it was only one night. I didn't really need to lug it all the way up to Seattle and back. And I could live without it for 24 hours, right?
It's just not the same. I started felling jittery before we hit Centralia. How will I do email, write, post, tweet? Surely, a person can live in the real world for 24 hours, no?
Yet I am compelled to find a way to shout out to the world the trivialities of my existence. I'm keeping list of electronic chores that I will need to complete once back in my virtual space. (Oh, to have a keyboard on which I can use all ten digits.)
Spent the night on Dock 2 last night. Lovely. Started a new book this morning, reading in bed with coffee: The Girl in the Spiders Web , a continuation of the Dragon Tattoo series. These word appear on the first page of Chapter 2, "Jura Impressa X7." I am immediately distracted.
You know what that is, don't you? Coffee porn is what that is! Check this baby out:
Hard to get refocused after that, isn't it?