I've since heard that dogs don't like hugs.
I'm a happy person. I don't really know why. I seem to be surrounded by people with all of the things in life that are supposed to make you happy, who seem significantly less happy than I.
I've been less happy since my dog bite. I can't forgive him. It's stupid and petty, but I can't, and don't want to. I told myself I'd forgive him when the scars are gone, which should be never. I'm very glad it was me though. Me, and not one of the little girls always tugging at him.
I met a woman at a party, so of course we had to talk about my face. The alternative would be to pointedly not talk about it. She said I need to put the dog down for the sake of the little girls. I told her that their parents are probably more qualified at being their parents than I am. She told me it is up to me, and I should be responsible if they will not. She had strong feelings on the subject since a family member of hers had kept a dog after biting someone, and that dog ended up killing their small child.
The day the monster bit me was the day before his family left for an eleven day vacation. The stress of packing was probably an influence on the monster. He is staying with the neighbor on my other side until they get back. This was the plan all along. This neighbor does not have the energy to walk him, so I've been walking him every day. The owners did not tell her about the bite, and asked me not to. She hasn't asked, and I haven't volunteered.
I continue to allow others to make the moral decisions for me. That is, of course, a decision too. Probably not the correct one.
As for me, instead of getting a tan before Convergence, I now plan to avoid the sun for the next six months. I've been wearing a dust filter while I'm out. And instead of planning to chat up pretty girls on my vacation, the new plan is spend it talking about about what's wrong with my face.
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Monday, June 20, 2016
A Terrible Fate
I write this nine days before Convergence, five days after the incident.
My neighbors, friends, and landlords, have a dog. He is four months old, and they've had him for the last two of those months. I see him every morning after work when I walk through our shared entryway. I always poke my head in, and wave hello. Sometimes he comes over, and I let him outside for a while. This day I noticed he stuck his head up, and starting waging his tail, so I decided to walk over to pet him. Then I made the mistake of giving him a hug.
The bite was on my nose. It was so quick, and not at all painful, but I knew it was severe. I stumbled into the bathroom, and was horrified. It quickly became obvious that I wasn't going to be able to connect the pieces on my own. I tried anyways. I wasn't really thinking clearly. Then even less clearly. Then I was coming to my feet after having passed out.
I woke with a much clearer head, which isn't saying much. I immediately decided I should not be alone. That was right. I decided I should go to my mother's. That was a good start, but not exactly right. I took an Uber. When I got there, my mother took one look at it, and became visibly shaken. I heard myself ask, "Maybe I should go to the doctor?"
Ding, ding, ding. It really only took me two tries, if you think about it.
We took another Uber. Uber is amazing, by the way. When we got there, I didn't think twice before telling the people at registration what happened. When I did, I saw them clearly considering getting the police involved. They chose not to. Maybe they should have.
They washed it out, and gave me a couple dozen stitches. The stitches they used were made of animal gut. I briefly thought of telling the doctor that I'm a vegetarian. I wasn't feeling very kind toward animals at the moment though. Later I realized that this is not as simple as killing an animal because it tastes good, so it really is a different situation.
The hospital was swift and efficient. I expect it will cost an arm and a leg for such treatment, but I won't be the one paying it. As for the monster? His life remains unchanged, which is a whole 'nother blog post.
My neighbors, friends, and landlords, have a dog. He is four months old, and they've had him for the last two of those months. I see him every morning after work when I walk through our shared entryway. I always poke my head in, and wave hello. Sometimes he comes over, and I let him outside for a while. This day I noticed he stuck his head up, and starting waging his tail, so I decided to walk over to pet him. Then I made the mistake of giving him a hug.
The bite was on my nose. It was so quick, and not at all painful, but I knew it was severe. I stumbled into the bathroom, and was horrified. It quickly became obvious that I wasn't going to be able to connect the pieces on my own. I tried anyways. I wasn't really thinking clearly. Then even less clearly. Then I was coming to my feet after having passed out.
I woke with a much clearer head, which isn't saying much. I immediately decided I should not be alone. That was right. I decided I should go to my mother's. That was a good start, but not exactly right. I took an Uber. When I got there, my mother took one look at it, and became visibly shaken. I heard myself ask, "Maybe I should go to the doctor?"
Ding, ding, ding. It really only took me two tries, if you think about it.
We took another Uber. Uber is amazing, by the way. When we got there, I didn't think twice before telling the people at registration what happened. When I did, I saw them clearly considering getting the police involved. They chose not to. Maybe they should have.
They washed it out, and gave me a couple dozen stitches. The stitches they used were made of animal gut. I briefly thought of telling the doctor that I'm a vegetarian. I wasn't feeling very kind toward animals at the moment though. Later I realized that this is not as simple as killing an animal because it tastes good, so it really is a different situation.
The hospital was swift and efficient. I expect it will cost an arm and a leg for such treatment, but I won't be the one paying it. As for the monster? His life remains unchanged, which is a whole 'nother blog post.
Thursday, June 16, 2016
Humble Pie
Humble Pie, indeed.
I was going to write a political piece here ( no, not about the election ) regarding Congress and its being exempt from the most controversial and/or most widely influential laws it passes, thus insulating itself from the effects of those laws. “It seems to me,” I was going to write, “having no skin in the pot significantly lowers the motivation level to make the laws work and, therefore, the probability that they will work well, or at all.” I had enough words for at least one post written, and was getting warmed up about an idea I had to address this. It was not a rant, but I was ramped up.
Like any good writer, of course, I decided to do some research. The topics I chose are Social Security and the Affordable Care Act. I was completely wrong.
Congress was exempt from Social Security until about 35 years ago, when Congress changed the law. Now, like most everyone else, Congress People pay into it and it is one of several options which they can choose to support them in retirement. ( I believe they pay less into it than you and I do and they seem to have a defined total benefit plan with Social Security being but one portion. That’s another story and well beyond the simple notion I believed and wrote about. )
While the final version of the Affordable Care Act omitted the exception, Congress debated at least one version of the bill which excepted Congress People from its provisions. In fact, according to what I read ( and this was brief, nearly frantic researching ), even the President and his ( her? ) staff are subject to its provisions. ( They, like many of us, get their health insurance from their employer and nothing changes for them. )
Some concluding thoughts, then:
If Congress is using Social Security funds for other purposes, it’s not strictly because its provisions don’t apply to members of Congress; there are other reasons for the scandal that is Congress’s failure to address certain budgeting issues up-front by stealing from the Social Security fund.
If the Affordable Care Act is clumsy, costly, and ineffective ( which I am not herein claiming ), or needs serious rework ( which I am not able to comment on ), or needs tweaking here and there ( which I would assume to be the case ), but Congress is too grid-locked to do anything useful about it, it’s not because its members aren’t affected; something else is at work.
Still, prior to 35 years ago Congress was exempt from Social Security and it did debate one or more versions of the Affordable Care Act which exempted Congress from its provisions … perhaps it’s time to take away from Congress the right to decide whether or not the provisions of its laws pertain to members of Congress. They, after all, are citizens, too.
Comments welcome.
I was going to write a political piece here ( no, not about the election ) regarding Congress and its being exempt from the most controversial and/or most widely influential laws it passes, thus insulating itself from the effects of those laws. “It seems to me,” I was going to write, “having no skin in the pot significantly lowers the motivation level to make the laws work and, therefore, the probability that they will work well, or at all.” I had enough words for at least one post written, and was getting warmed up about an idea I had to address this. It was not a rant, but I was ramped up.
Like any good writer, of course, I decided to do some research. The topics I chose are Social Security and the Affordable Care Act. I was completely wrong.
Congress was exempt from Social Security until about 35 years ago, when Congress changed the law. Now, like most everyone else, Congress People pay into it and it is one of several options which they can choose to support them in retirement. ( I believe they pay less into it than you and I do and they seem to have a defined total benefit plan with Social Security being but one portion. That’s another story and well beyond the simple notion I believed and wrote about. )
While the final version of the Affordable Care Act omitted the exception, Congress debated at least one version of the bill which excepted Congress People from its provisions. In fact, according to what I read ( and this was brief, nearly frantic researching ), even the President and his ( her? ) staff are subject to its provisions. ( They, like many of us, get their health insurance from their employer and nothing changes for them. )
Some concluding thoughts, then:
If Congress is using Social Security funds for other purposes, it’s not strictly because its provisions don’t apply to members of Congress; there are other reasons for the scandal that is Congress’s failure to address certain budgeting issues up-front by stealing from the Social Security fund.
If the Affordable Care Act is clumsy, costly, and ineffective ( which I am not herein claiming ), or needs serious rework ( which I am not able to comment on ), or needs tweaking here and there ( which I would assume to be the case ), but Congress is too grid-locked to do anything useful about it, it’s not because its members aren’t affected; something else is at work.
Still, prior to 35 years ago Congress was exempt from Social Security and it did debate one or more versions of the Affordable Care Act which exempted Congress from its provisions … perhaps it’s time to take away from Congress the right to decide whether or not the provisions of its laws pertain to members of Congress. They, after all, are citizens, too.
Comments welcome.
| If you would like to comment but don't care to use the comment field, send an email to wrjsojourner@gmail.com. |
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
... And Bring Your Swimsuit
It's summer time again, which means beach fun. As it is the start of summer, the vast majority of my pasty white body hasn't seen the sun in eight months. Which is what I was thinking as I was about to head out with some friends, and one of them casually mentioned, "... and bring your swimsuit."
Every year I tell myself that I'm going to get a tan before I expose my body to dozens of strangers. Every year I procrastinate. It stings even more this year, knowing how close I've come to my ideal weight.
So I spent the day at the beach, blinding friends and strangers. And that single mother, friend of a friend. Did I mention she's single? You might be thinking, 'no one cares.' The thing is, I'm the kind of person who can tan. And I do have a tan on my lower arms, neck, and face. I'm half mexican. My black hair works fine with white skin, or tan skin, but not a mix of both.
And of course I burned. Well never again! Or at least not again this year. I bought myself some SPF 15 (as apposed to my normal SPF 50 for my face) and I'm heading to the back yard, this week. Today it rained, which is fine. I still have some sunburn.
But mark my words. If I can spend months getting to my ideal weight, than I sure enough can spend a couple of hours adjusting my skin tone.
Every year I tell myself that I'm going to get a tan before I expose my body to dozens of strangers. Every year I procrastinate. It stings even more this year, knowing how close I've come to my ideal weight.
So I spent the day at the beach, blinding friends and strangers. And that single mother, friend of a friend. Did I mention she's single? You might be thinking, 'no one cares.' The thing is, I'm the kind of person who can tan. And I do have a tan on my lower arms, neck, and face. I'm half mexican. My black hair works fine with white skin, or tan skin, but not a mix of both.
And of course I burned. Well never again! Or at least not again this year. I bought myself some SPF 15 (as apposed to my normal SPF 50 for my face) and I'm heading to the back yard, this week. Today it rained, which is fine. I still have some sunburn.
But mark my words. If I can spend months getting to my ideal weight, than I sure enough can spend a couple of hours adjusting my skin tone.
Thursday, June 9, 2016
Swan Song is not a Song for a Swan
The system splashes.
Soap bubble ... shattered dream.
I ring for my 4:00 lesson; "He'll be back by 4:00."
Sure he will, my dark side, sure.
Soap bubble ... shattered dream.
I wait … wait … I have more dignity.
Sure he will, my dark side, sure.
His voice mail beat me home.
I wait … wait … I have more dignity.
"So so sorry; I spazzed out, thinking I had until 4:30."
His voice mail beat me home.
"I'd be mad; I suppose you are. Call me if you want to."
"So so sorry; I spazzed out, thinking I had until 4:30."
I didn't want to call, don't want to and may not want to later.
"I'd be mad; I suppose you are. Call me if you want to."
He and I must talk; this is not isolated.
I didn't want to call, don't want to and may not want to later.
I think he's asked, "What to do with (me)?"
He and I must talk; this is not isolated.
He didn't have an answer.
I think he's asked, "What to do with (me)?"
The system splashes.
He didn't have an answer.
I ring for my 4:00 lesson; "He'll be back by 4:00."
Soap bubble ... shattered dream.
I ring for my 4:00 lesson; "He'll be back by 4:00."
Sure he will, my dark side, sure.
Soap bubble ... shattered dream.
I wait … wait … I have more dignity.
Sure he will, my dark side, sure.
His voice mail beat me home.
I wait … wait … I have more dignity.
"So so sorry; I spazzed out, thinking I had until 4:30."
His voice mail beat me home.
"I'd be mad; I suppose you are. Call me if you want to."
"So so sorry; I spazzed out, thinking I had until 4:30."
I didn't want to call, don't want to and may not want to later.
"I'd be mad; I suppose you are. Call me if you want to."
He and I must talk; this is not isolated.
I didn't want to call, don't want to and may not want to later.
I think he's asked, "What to do with (me)?"
He and I must talk; this is not isolated.
He didn't have an answer.
I think he's asked, "What to do with (me)?"
The system splashes.
He didn't have an answer.
I ring for my 4:00 lesson; "He'll be back by 4:00."
| If you would like to comment but don't care to use the comment field, send an email to wrjsojourner@gmail.com. |
Monday, June 6, 2016
Free Comic Books!!!
Now that I have you're attention... well, you actually can read a bunch of comic books for free. Comixology is now owned by Amazon, and they've started doing a Netflix like subscription model. That is to say, you can read as many as you want as long as you're paying for their service. I say "free" because the first month is free.
They do not have Marvel or DC, which I believe are the two biggest names, but they do have a ton of popular distributors like Archie Comics, and Dark Horse. Unfortunately, not ever title is on the unlimited list. In fact, most are not. Popular comics will probably only have the first few available. Of course, less popular comics don't really run past the first few. We're still talking about a ton of free comics here though.
And they're digital, which is far superior to their counterparts printed on slices of trees. You don't need to worry about storage, or returning them, or should I take them with me. And many are even a better reading experience. Many Comixology titles have a per frame viewing option. You can flip between the frame view and page view at anytime.
If you're a fan of comics, check it out, it's free. If you're not a fan of comics, check it out, it's free. You'll probably find comics of things you already love. Even if you don't find the stories entertaining, it's often worth looking at just for the artwork.
They do not have Marvel or DC, which I believe are the two biggest names, but they do have a ton of popular distributors like Archie Comics, and Dark Horse. Unfortunately, not ever title is on the unlimited list. In fact, most are not. Popular comics will probably only have the first few available. Of course, less popular comics don't really run past the first few. We're still talking about a ton of free comics here though.
And they're digital, which is far superior to their counterparts printed on slices of trees. You don't need to worry about storage, or returning them, or should I take them with me. And many are even a better reading experience. Many Comixology titles have a per frame viewing option. You can flip between the frame view and page view at anytime.
If you're a fan of comics, check it out, it's free. If you're not a fan of comics, check it out, it's free. You'll probably find comics of things you already love. Even if you don't find the stories entertaining, it's often worth looking at just for the artwork.
Thursday, June 2, 2016
Another Era Closes
“Hmmm. Eww. You’re right.”
Our dear friend Loretta died almost 10 months ago. My wife, Ellie, is Loretta's personal representative, and began working on that responsibility shortly after we buried Loretta. From the beginning, her approach was completely different from what mine would have been
( which, of course, is likely part of the reason Loretta chose Ellie for the role ). Ellie brought a level of creativity and sensitivity to the task I can only dream of. Slow. Deliberate. Understanding everything she was looking at … not just from her point of view but from Loretta’s as well, as best as she was able.
She came across many things: gifts given to Loretta, some of which she returned to the giver as a token reminder of Loretta; photographs, many of which, after determining that Loretta’s Chicago nephew did not want them, and not wanting to take the small risk that they would fall into insensitive hands, she shredded; degrees and certificates of completion, which, along with class notes and the like, she also shredded; and journals in which Loretta had captured life events, from her departure from the Sisters of St Casmir in the mid-seventies, to the murder of her nephew’s half-brother and his mother four decades later.
This, of course, is small potatoes. Loretta also had furniture, kitchenware, clothes, accessories and real-estate. Ellie got in touch with a real-estate agent, who was the agent who had sold the condominium next to Loretta’s the summer that Loretta died and whom the former owner of said condo very much liked working with. Ellie hired an estate-sales company to conduct an estate sale. The real-estate agent had recommended this company.
Ellie moved back home on New Year’s Eve, and the estate sale people held a very successful estate sale in mid-January. Note that ‘very successful’ does not mean they sold everything to the bare walls. There were some pieces of unsold furniture, lots of unsold clothes, closets of ‘stuff,’ miscellaneous kitchenware, and a set or two of dishes. In short, there was still much to do.
A friend who likes cleaning closets and organizing volunteered her services. She helped Ellie with the closets, we took some things home, Ellie hired a cleaning service to ‘mop up’ and Zerorez to clean the carpet. Ellie listed the condo for sale in late March.
Almost immediately she had two offers. She chose the first one, and suddenly she had a closing “by June 02” to get ready for. There were still three large pieces of furniture to deal with. We planned to donate those … nice pieces, but our house was just too full.
The closing date was eventually set to be May 27. A week or so before then, Ellie and I arranged to move the last pieces of furniture; as I turned the key in the lock when leaving, I heard, “That’s very likely the last time you will ever set foot in Loretta’s condo.” I felt weird about that, like something would be missing from my life.
“That’s very likely the last time we’ll ever set foot in Loretta’s,” I said to Ellie as we drove away.
“Hmmm. Eww. You’re right,” she mumbled, as she realized the truth.
On the evening before the scheduled closing, Ellie got a text from her realtor: there is a snag, the closing is likely not going to occur as scheduled. Sure enough, it didn’t and was rescheduled for June 01. That date came, the closing stayed scheduled, I accompanied Ellie to it, and a woman named Joyce is now the proud owner of what was Loretta’s property in West St Paul. A huge milestone in the Loretta Project has occurred. I am OK; Ellie is, too.
Another era closes.
Our dear friend Loretta died almost 10 months ago. My wife, Ellie, is Loretta's personal representative, and began working on that responsibility shortly after we buried Loretta. From the beginning, her approach was completely different from what mine would have been
( which, of course, is likely part of the reason Loretta chose Ellie for the role ). Ellie brought a level of creativity and sensitivity to the task I can only dream of. Slow. Deliberate. Understanding everything she was looking at … not just from her point of view but from Loretta’s as well, as best as she was able.
She came across many things: gifts given to Loretta, some of which she returned to the giver as a token reminder of Loretta; photographs, many of which, after determining that Loretta’s Chicago nephew did not want them, and not wanting to take the small risk that they would fall into insensitive hands, she shredded; degrees and certificates of completion, which, along with class notes and the like, she also shredded; and journals in which Loretta had captured life events, from her departure from the Sisters of St Casmir in the mid-seventies, to the murder of her nephew’s half-brother and his mother four decades later.
This, of course, is small potatoes. Loretta also had furniture, kitchenware, clothes, accessories and real-estate. Ellie got in touch with a real-estate agent, who was the agent who had sold the condominium next to Loretta’s the summer that Loretta died and whom the former owner of said condo very much liked working with. Ellie hired an estate-sales company to conduct an estate sale. The real-estate agent had recommended this company.
Ellie moved back home on New Year’s Eve, and the estate sale people held a very successful estate sale in mid-January. Note that ‘very successful’ does not mean they sold everything to the bare walls. There were some pieces of unsold furniture, lots of unsold clothes, closets of ‘stuff,’ miscellaneous kitchenware, and a set or two of dishes. In short, there was still much to do.
A friend who likes cleaning closets and organizing volunteered her services. She helped Ellie with the closets, we took some things home, Ellie hired a cleaning service to ‘mop up’ and Zerorez to clean the carpet. Ellie listed the condo for sale in late March.
Almost immediately she had two offers. She chose the first one, and suddenly she had a closing “by June 02” to get ready for. There were still three large pieces of furniture to deal with. We planned to donate those … nice pieces, but our house was just too full.
The closing date was eventually set to be May 27. A week or so before then, Ellie and I arranged to move the last pieces of furniture; as I turned the key in the lock when leaving, I heard, “That’s very likely the last time you will ever set foot in Loretta’s condo.” I felt weird about that, like something would be missing from my life.
“That’s very likely the last time we’ll ever set foot in Loretta’s,” I said to Ellie as we drove away.
“Hmmm. Eww. You’re right,” she mumbled, as she realized the truth.
On the evening before the scheduled closing, Ellie got a text from her realtor: there is a snag, the closing is likely not going to occur as scheduled. Sure enough, it didn’t and was rescheduled for June 01. That date came, the closing stayed scheduled, I accompanied Ellie to it, and a woman named Joyce is now the proud owner of what was Loretta’s property in West St Paul. A huge milestone in the Loretta Project has occurred. I am OK; Ellie is, too.
Another era closes.
| If you would like to comment but don't care to use the comment field, send an email to wrjsojourner@gmail.com. |
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