My DH and I bought ourselves a firepit for our anniversary. While we were out in SoCal, our neighborhood had a weekly happy hour. Since California is cold in the evenings, one of the neighbors dragged out a firepit and lit a fire for us to huddle around. So firepits have great memories for me and when faced with what to get for our thirty-first wedding anniversary, a firepit sounded perfect.
Luckily, we've had a month or two of wet weather. Lots of snow, ice and rain. The ground, although covered with dead grass, is wet like a sponge. Squishy. So, having a fire in the backyard seemed like a safe and reasonable idea. I mentioned to DH that we should light one up... thinking of the stack of split logs in the lean-to in our backyard. He nodded in the affirmative and I got busy.
When next I looked up, DH had used the opportunity to light a fire with the dried logs. Then he went through all the flowerbeds and pulled in all the dead fall, brush and limbs. There was a HUGE pile of brush he drug up into the center of the yard. After my eyes quit bugging out, I went and got my hand shears and went to work.
For hours, I stood in the lovely 50 degree weather and stripped limbs and twigs off branches and fed them to the fire. We all smelled like campfire after a while. We mused on our lack of graham crackers and chocolate bars. We might have toasted marshmallows, I did have some of those, but we mostly just enjoyed the process and cleared away the brush.
I have two large dogs. One, Chip, is an old man. He's a chow chow/shepherd mix and has a long fluffy black coat. The other dog, Sophie, is a shepherd mix with a short coat of light brown fur. She's gentle and needy and always shivering. When she sidled up to the firepit and lay down, I thought, "look, she's cold and she's warming herself by the fire!" Then, Chip sprawled out next to the firepit and knowing that he will happily lay on the center of a sheet of ice and act surprised when you want him to come inside, I thought, "he wants to be near to me."
Sophie entertained us by snapping at the ash that lifted in the air. Much like a dog might snap at a flying bug to try to catch it midair, she was jumping and snapping at the ash and embers that flew. When she caught one, she'd cough and retch. Then go right back to trying to catch more. Chip just laid there. Like a rug. Until I noticed his coat smoldering. He was on fire. And he never moved or noticed.
I shouted and the dogs jumped up and started running around. I said, "Quick, Chip's on fire, pat it out!" My husband and I spent a comic couple of moments trying to get the dog to stop running and dodging so that we could knock the burning ember off his coat. What a bone headed dog. On fire and no idea. My husband assured me that if the fire had gotten close to his skin, the dog would have rolled on the ground... but all I can see is that stupid dog running around with a trail of smoke pouring off his black fur.
So, note to self: While burning the firepit, keep a hose handy in case the dogs set on fire.
--Sandee Wagner
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Challenging Myself
Until he retired, my husband served in the USMC. He was gone a lot of the time. When my kids were little, doing all the household errands and being a mother (and a father) to my kids took up the time and made it go faster. Now that my kids are grown and gone, I look for ways to fill my time when he's out of town.
One of the things I started doing when he was deployed was picking something I had always wanted to learn how to do and taking lessons. His first major deployment I took tap dancing lessons. It was a blast. I have absolutely no sense of rhythm or talent, but I had a lot of fun.
The second time he was gone, I took oil painting classes. I started with a teacher who taught painting with a pallet knife, no brushes. Lots of landscape scenes. Since I've only taken the eight lessons, that's the only way I know how to paint. My original oils are hung in my children's homes and in close friends' places. I don't think I have a lot of talent, but if you want a wall filled and you aren't picky, give me a call and we'll work something out.
I enjoy challenging myself. I don't necessarily want to learn how to do things that will be costly hobbies--I've avoided taking golf lessons or downhill skiing--I just want to do the things that I've always admired and thought, "I wish I knew how to do that".
I am an auditory learner. I generally need someone to explain something to me, or talk me through it in order to become successful at anything. So, lessons are a must.
My husband has accepted a rotational gig that will have him flying back and forth a lot over the next few months. I'm going to need a new challenge. So, what will it be? Will I take a painting class where someone explains a little about brush techniques (and color and line and light and everything else I've missed!) or is it time to take up a musical instrument? I've always wanted to learn how to play the piano. And I just happen to have one here at the house.
Probably, I should learn how to do ceiling texture knockdown and get rid of the popcorn ceilings in my house... that might have more of a payoff for me in the long run. So, what do you think? What should I challenge myself with this time? Belly dancing? Gardening? Fusible glass jewelry? Pottery?
--Sandee Wagner
One of the things I started doing when he was deployed was picking something I had always wanted to learn how to do and taking lessons. His first major deployment I took tap dancing lessons. It was a blast. I have absolutely no sense of rhythm or talent, but I had a lot of fun.
The second time he was gone, I took oil painting classes. I started with a teacher who taught painting with a pallet knife, no brushes. Lots of landscape scenes. Since I've only taken the eight lessons, that's the only way I know how to paint. My original oils are hung in my children's homes and in close friends' places. I don't think I have a lot of talent, but if you want a wall filled and you aren't picky, give me a call and we'll work something out.
I enjoy challenging myself. I don't necessarily want to learn how to do things that will be costly hobbies--I've avoided taking golf lessons or downhill skiing--I just want to do the things that I've always admired and thought, "I wish I knew how to do that".
I am an auditory learner. I generally need someone to explain something to me, or talk me through it in order to become successful at anything. So, lessons are a must.
My husband has accepted a rotational gig that will have him flying back and forth a lot over the next few months. I'm going to need a new challenge. So, what will it be? Will I take a painting class where someone explains a little about brush techniques (and color and line and light and everything else I've missed!) or is it time to take up a musical instrument? I've always wanted to learn how to play the piano. And I just happen to have one here at the house.
Probably, I should learn how to do ceiling texture knockdown and get rid of the popcorn ceilings in my house... that might have more of a payoff for me in the long run. So, what do you think? What should I challenge myself with this time? Belly dancing? Gardening? Fusible glass jewelry? Pottery?
--Sandee Wagner
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Spammers
No, thank you. My penis doesn't need enlargement. Really.
I don't buy prescription drugs via the Internet and if I did, I don't think I'd order them from a lab in China or India. And, the male enhancement drugs are wasted on me.
I won't wear an expensive watch or jewelry that costs enough to make me look like a 'victim'. And if I did, I don't think I'd trust the Internet to provide me a link to a place that didn't deal in knockoffs.
So, all you guys trying to sell me something, here's the stats: I'm a woman. No penis. I don't need to 'go all night long" or be "hard enough to satisfy her". I'm in my forties. Which means I'm careful with my money and won't throw it away on crazy herbal gimmicks. I appreciate the difficulties that some men face with erectile dysfunction, but my interest in it is not personal. I won't buy your meds.
If I want to buy a Gucci watch or Rolex, I'll go to the jewelry store, but since I'm in my forties and have never purchased one to this point, the possibilities of me doing so based on your email is very, very tenuous. Wouldn't you rather pitch your goods to someone with a history of buying expensive, showy jewelry and watches? Get your email addresses from websites that sell toupees or golf slacks. Leave me alone.
Each day, I get 10-20 crazy emails at my gmail address. I do not ever enter this address in any web form. All the Internet purchases I've made have all used my cox.net account. So the people who are doing this marketing are just iterating all the 'names' and adding @gmail.com and hoping for someone who will click a link or look at their products. I am not that guy. Like I said, lacking the basic male plumbing.
It does make me wonder about Internet advertising and email marketing. Because it's free, they can lay it on all the mailboxes they can hit with very little cost to themselves. If a single person clicks or buys, they are now convinced that this type of marketing actually works.
I don't find this offensive. There have been other instances where my ballocks have been called into play. I had hernia repair surgery once. I had to sign all the forms that explained the possible side effects for inguinal hernia repair surgery. The young surgeon passed me the hospital form and I read it carefully. When I signed the bottom with a flourish, I told him that if my testicles started swelling, I was going to sue him, regardless of my signature on the form. He just laughed and marked that paragraph out with a sharpie. He made the mental note that they might need male/female specific forms. I was not offended. It just didn't apply to me.
The spam that hits my email inbox has the same effect, it's all trash. It doesn't apply to me. I do spend a little time wondering about this desperate website that needs business so badly that it's easier for them to email every possible iteration of an address, than to actually do their job, find out their demographic and select marketing and advertising that gets to their chosen population.
I've been told to never reply to those advertisers, even to ask them to remove you from the list. I'd really like to prepare an "I don't have a Penis" response and send it out every time. What do you think? Would it get them to take me off their list, or would the spam just change from male oriented crap to female oriented crap?
It's like a twelve step program. Here's step one: Hi, I'm Sandee and I don't have a penis.
--Sandee Wagner
I don't buy prescription drugs via the Internet and if I did, I don't think I'd order them from a lab in China or India. And, the male enhancement drugs are wasted on me.
I won't wear an expensive watch or jewelry that costs enough to make me look like a 'victim'. And if I did, I don't think I'd trust the Internet to provide me a link to a place that didn't deal in knockoffs.
So, all you guys trying to sell me something, here's the stats: I'm a woman. No penis. I don't need to 'go all night long" or be "hard enough to satisfy her". I'm in my forties. Which means I'm careful with my money and won't throw it away on crazy herbal gimmicks. I appreciate the difficulties that some men face with erectile dysfunction, but my interest in it is not personal. I won't buy your meds.
If I want to buy a Gucci watch or Rolex, I'll go to the jewelry store, but since I'm in my forties and have never purchased one to this point, the possibilities of me doing so based on your email is very, very tenuous. Wouldn't you rather pitch your goods to someone with a history of buying expensive, showy jewelry and watches? Get your email addresses from websites that sell toupees or golf slacks. Leave me alone.
Each day, I get 10-20 crazy emails at my gmail address. I do not ever enter this address in any web form. All the Internet purchases I've made have all used my cox.net account. So the people who are doing this marketing are just iterating all the 'names' and adding @gmail.com and hoping for someone who will click a link or look at their products. I am not that guy. Like I said, lacking the basic male plumbing.
It does make me wonder about Internet advertising and email marketing. Because it's free, they can lay it on all the mailboxes they can hit with very little cost to themselves. If a single person clicks or buys, they are now convinced that this type of marketing actually works.
I don't find this offensive. There have been other instances where my ballocks have been called into play. I had hernia repair surgery once. I had to sign all the forms that explained the possible side effects for inguinal hernia repair surgery. The young surgeon passed me the hospital form and I read it carefully. When I signed the bottom with a flourish, I told him that if my testicles started swelling, I was going to sue him, regardless of my signature on the form. He just laughed and marked that paragraph out with a sharpie. He made the mental note that they might need male/female specific forms. I was not offended. It just didn't apply to me.
The spam that hits my email inbox has the same effect, it's all trash. It doesn't apply to me. I do spend a little time wondering about this desperate website that needs business so badly that it's easier for them to email every possible iteration of an address, than to actually do their job, find out their demographic and select marketing and advertising that gets to their chosen population.
I've been told to never reply to those advertisers, even to ask them to remove you from the list. I'd really like to prepare an "I don't have a Penis" response and send it out every time. What do you think? Would it get them to take me off their list, or would the spam just change from male oriented crap to female oriented crap?
It's like a twelve step program. Here's step one: Hi, I'm Sandee and I don't have a penis.
--Sandee Wagner
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
College Mascots and Changing Mores
During my high school and college days, hundreds of schools chose to change the name of their sports teams away from such Native American epithets as Chiefs, Braves, Warriors and Indians. Most of the schools found a new mascot and never looked back. All schools have to be concerned that their icons don't offend some political group. Long suffering Ole Miss is back in the news with its fight to find a mascot to replace Colonel Reb.
In some schools, the students considered the older generations' stand on political correctness to be folly. They insisted that no one cared about a college team named the Reds, and perhaps they were right. When an intramural team named themselves the Fightin' Whities and uses a sterotypical white man as a mascot, no one blinked. Sales of that merchandise fund major scholarships at at least two colleges today.
So, on one hand you have political correctness, and on the other hand you have student backlash.
When the student body was faced with voting on a mascot replacement for their Not Politically Correct one, the students of the University of California at Santa Cruz rebelled. But in a good way. They voted in their beloved mascot, the Banana Slug. Go Slugs! Students the world over have shown an ability to get behind the wrong things when school administration would wish otherwise. Men have been voted homecoming queen, whole football programs have been voted down by students at commuter schools, and banana slugs have been introduced as college mascots. And embraced by the students who go to that school.
My sons both cheered in college. Whenever we could make a game, we went to see their schools play football. On the sidelines I've seen a "fightin' zucchini" a "fightin' artichoke" and a very angry ear of corn. There's a shock of wheat and even a boilermaker. I don't know if the students voted in those mascots, but somewhere there are alumni spinning in their graves.
Not all sports teams can be wildcats, bearcats, lumberjacks or aggies. Some are hoyas, oranges and horned frogs. The important thing is not what the mascot is, it's what he represents. School spirit. School pride. Sports excellence and student involvement. When the older generation tries to politicize the icons, the resultant mess just makes the schools laughable. Just what is a Cardinal? That is not a bird.
--Sandee Wagner
In some schools, the students considered the older generations' stand on political correctness to be folly. They insisted that no one cared about a college team named the Reds, and perhaps they were right. When an intramural team named themselves the Fightin' Whities and uses a sterotypical white man as a mascot, no one blinked. Sales of that merchandise fund major scholarships at at least two colleges today.
So, on one hand you have political correctness, and on the other hand you have student backlash.
When the student body was faced with voting on a mascot replacement for their Not Politically Correct one, the students of the University of California at Santa Cruz rebelled. But in a good way. They voted in their beloved mascot, the Banana Slug. Go Slugs! Students the world over have shown an ability to get behind the wrong things when school administration would wish otherwise. Men have been voted homecoming queen, whole football programs have been voted down by students at commuter schools, and banana slugs have been introduced as college mascots. And embraced by the students who go to that school.
My sons both cheered in college. Whenever we could make a game, we went to see their schools play football. On the sidelines I've seen a "fightin' zucchini" a "fightin' artichoke" and a very angry ear of corn. There's a shock of wheat and even a boilermaker. I don't know if the students voted in those mascots, but somewhere there are alumni spinning in their graves.
Not all sports teams can be wildcats, bearcats, lumberjacks or aggies. Some are hoyas, oranges and horned frogs. The important thing is not what the mascot is, it's what he represents. School spirit. School pride. Sports excellence and student involvement. When the older generation tries to politicize the icons, the resultant mess just makes the schools laughable. Just what is a Cardinal? That is not a bird.
--Sandee Wagner
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Home Labyrinth
There was an old Beavis and Butthead episode where the angry neighbor went to the local, big box, home improvement store--Home Labyrinth. Throughout the episode, they would flash away from the teens' actions to the man wandering around this giant warehouse all alone, lost and yelling. For some reason, that really resonated with me.
When I go off to any home improvement store, finding help is problematic. You look for the colored vests, but it's not always easy to find someone to help you. And you don't just need help finding an item, sometimes you need help to determine the best way to DO something.
In the old days, the days of my father, men were handy. Almost every guy knew how to fix things, rig things and repair things. Nowadays, there is more specialization. My son in law is not handy with household stuff, but he can hook up your computer/stereo/electronics and make them dance. He has evolved. When you need to find a specific skill, you can't necessarily look to your own family any more. Well, maybe never. My dad could fix anything made of metal but he was hell on beautiful wood. But I digress...
My goal today is to go to Home Labyrinth and get a product to do a job. I know what I want to do, but not what the best product to use to do it will be. So, picture me wandering the aisles at the store, calling out to personnel who never hear me, wishing for some guidance. Because that's in my future.
So, picture me as Ariadne with a spool of thread, wandering in the labyrinth, hoping for help.
--Sandee Wagner
When I go off to any home improvement store, finding help is problematic. You look for the colored vests, but it's not always easy to find someone to help you. And you don't just need help finding an item, sometimes you need help to determine the best way to DO something.
In the old days, the days of my father, men were handy. Almost every guy knew how to fix things, rig things and repair things. Nowadays, there is more specialization. My son in law is not handy with household stuff, but he can hook up your computer/stereo/electronics and make them dance. He has evolved. When you need to find a specific skill, you can't necessarily look to your own family any more. Well, maybe never. My dad could fix anything made of metal but he was hell on beautiful wood. But I digress...
My goal today is to go to Home Labyrinth and get a product to do a job. I know what I want to do, but not what the best product to use to do it will be. So, picture me wandering the aisles at the store, calling out to personnel who never hear me, wishing for some guidance. Because that's in my future.
So, picture me as Ariadne with a spool of thread, wandering in the labyrinth, hoping for help.
--Sandee Wagner
Monday, February 22, 2010
The Thing We Can't Live Without
In our high tech world, there are plenty of gadgets to cleave to, lots of toys to love. I was talking with my good friend, Tim, yesterday and he mentioned that he's recovering from knee surgery. I commented that it was a good time to be trapped on the couch--lots of Olympics to watch.
He said this, "When it first came out, I said the DVR was the biggest waste of money ever foisted on the gullible American consumer, now I can't imagine watching TV without one." Since I don't have a DVR or TiVO, I had to ask, "what do you mean?" He told me that he's recording all the Olympics, and then watching it from his DVR listing and fast forwarding through all the commercials and commentary that doesn't interest him. Since a lot of the 'get to know the athletes' is being repeated, this actually sounds pretty good to me. I admitted that I had not been able to fork over the $11 a month for a DVR when offered by Cox. He laughed at me. He told me that he could watch roughly 5 hours of Olympics in an hour fast forwarding through the chaff to get to the wheat.
Then he made the comment that there have been several devices that he believed were stupid when they were first introduced that he now cannot imagine living without: cordless phones, GPS, cell phones, texting. You get the picture. When at first each one of these technological advancements were introduced, he was skeptical of its usefulness in his life. Now, he cannot imagine life without these devices. DVR just goes on that list as the most recent one.
It got me started thinking. I can remember when only brain surgeons had beepers. Then five years later, every middle school kid had one. I can remember when only traveling salesmen had cell phones, now everyone has one.
DVR has jumped onto that list of Things We Can't Live Without. Its ability to save us time and allow us to jump through shows quickly--plus to liberate us from having to be home on a certain night/time to catch a TV show--is routine now.
I guess I'm going to have to break down and get me one. With the hours I've spent watching the Olympics, shaving it down to one fifth the time is very attractive. Maybe I need to call Cox.
--Sandee Wagner
He said this, "When it first came out, I said the DVR was the biggest waste of money ever foisted on the gullible American consumer, now I can't imagine watching TV without one." Since I don't have a DVR or TiVO, I had to ask, "what do you mean?" He told me that he's recording all the Olympics, and then watching it from his DVR listing and fast forwarding through all the commercials and commentary that doesn't interest him. Since a lot of the 'get to know the athletes' is being repeated, this actually sounds pretty good to me. I admitted that I had not been able to fork over the $11 a month for a DVR when offered by Cox. He laughed at me. He told me that he could watch roughly 5 hours of Olympics in an hour fast forwarding through the chaff to get to the wheat.
Then he made the comment that there have been several devices that he believed were stupid when they were first introduced that he now cannot imagine living without: cordless phones, GPS, cell phones, texting. You get the picture. When at first each one of these technological advancements were introduced, he was skeptical of its usefulness in his life. Now, he cannot imagine life without these devices. DVR just goes on that list as the most recent one.
It got me started thinking. I can remember when only brain surgeons had beepers. Then five years later, every middle school kid had one. I can remember when only traveling salesmen had cell phones, now everyone has one.
DVR has jumped onto that list of Things We Can't Live Without. Its ability to save us time and allow us to jump through shows quickly--plus to liberate us from having to be home on a certain night/time to catch a TV show--is routine now.
I guess I'm going to have to break down and get me one. With the hours I've spent watching the Olympics, shaving it down to one fifth the time is very attractive. Maybe I need to call Cox.
--Sandee Wagner
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Curling--The Next Big Thing
I've been glued to the Winter Olympics since opening night. I have to admit that I will never EVER try any of these sports. None of them. I won't hurtle down a slide in a luge. I won't downhill race or cross country ski with a gun strapped to my back. I might actually try to snowboard one day, but I'm sure I would never 'get air' or go high. Probably, I wouldn't even approach a half pipe.
I have posted a comment to Facebook that I think curling is a cross between shuffleboard and housework. That doesn't mean that I won't watch the matches for hours on end. That was a curling joke. They call the things Ends and I think there might be 10 per match. But I'm not sure. I've watched for hours and I still don't understand half of the terminology or the actual tactics of the game. I've picked up a little, and this I will share with you.
First, the curling teams appear to have fashion sense and a certain style that is lacking in all the other winter Olympic sports. The Norwegian Men's team have the best pants. The Danish women's team are wearing pleated black skirts, black tights and legwarmers. Very school girl. They get fashion points.
Second, you don't have to understand it at all. There's a sort of zeitgeist to Curling. You can watch and enjoy even with little knowledge of the sport.
Third, fans are new to them. These unjaded competitors aren't used to people actually watching them play. Their biggest problem is that they are not used to spectators. Apparently, most curling matches are silent like golf. The teams (besides Canada) are getting freaked out by all the fans cheering and making noise.
Fourth, they have the best verbiage. Where else do commentators talk about throwing rocks? There's weight and speed. They call each other 'skips' and 'sweepers'. And they have stones. They really do.
Fifth, most of the people in the competition are real people with real jobs. Some are housewives or plumbers. These folks have day jobs. They don't spend their lives training 10 hours a day for this one thing. Curling is like bowling to them, only an Olympic sport.
I'm a fan. I'm not sure I'm going to try and establish a club and learn to play, but watching a bunch of women screaming "harder, harder!" just makes me smile.
--Sandee Wagner
I have posted a comment to Facebook that I think curling is a cross between shuffleboard and housework. That doesn't mean that I won't watch the matches for hours on end. That was a curling joke. They call the things Ends and I think there might be 10 per match. But I'm not sure. I've watched for hours and I still don't understand half of the terminology or the actual tactics of the game. I've picked up a little, and this I will share with you.
First, the curling teams appear to have fashion sense and a certain style that is lacking in all the other winter Olympic sports. The Norwegian Men's team have the best pants. The Danish women's team are wearing pleated black skirts, black tights and legwarmers. Very school girl. They get fashion points.
Second, you don't have to understand it at all. There's a sort of zeitgeist to Curling. You can watch and enjoy even with little knowledge of the sport.
Third, fans are new to them. These unjaded competitors aren't used to people actually watching them play. Their biggest problem is that they are not used to spectators. Apparently, most curling matches are silent like golf. The teams (besides Canada) are getting freaked out by all the fans cheering and making noise.
Fourth, they have the best verbiage. Where else do commentators talk about throwing rocks? There's weight and speed. They call each other 'skips' and 'sweepers'. And they have stones. They really do.
Fifth, most of the people in the competition are real people with real jobs. Some are housewives or plumbers. These folks have day jobs. They don't spend their lives training 10 hours a day for this one thing. Curling is like bowling to them, only an Olympic sport.
I'm a fan. I'm not sure I'm going to try and establish a club and learn to play, but watching a bunch of women screaming "harder, harder!" just makes me smile.
--Sandee Wagner
Friday, February 19, 2010
Watch Who You Call A Terrorist
After yesterday's plane disaster in Austin, TX, my FaceBook friends went into rants about the man and his suicide post on the Internet.
One of my more militant friends, who admittedly lives in the Austin area, so has a right to be upset, called the crazy man a terrorist.
I immediately read the rant and gave it some thought. Do I think this guy was a terrorist? No. He had a grudge against the US government and a real hard-on against the IRS. He outlined his many troubles with the tax code through the years and his attempts to circumvent the laws. Did I feel sorry for this guy? No.
Let me point out a couple of things: First, he set up his own religion to try and get around paying taxes. I don't have any respect for anyone that does that kind of thing. A religion is not something to pretend about. Second, he owned his own airplane. At this point, I'm done. In the US, if you make over about $80,000 a year, you can expect to pay 28% or more in taxes. That's the rule. Expect it. If you're making enough money to pay for private pilot's lessons and to buy a plane, which generally cost over $100,000, then I don't feel sorry for you at all.
Was this guy a terrorist? Because he was angry about the government? No. No more than the former employees who walk back into their places of employment and open fire. Mental illness makes some people paranoid. It makes some people fixate on an institution or group and blame all their life's problems on that group or place. That doesn't make them terrorists.
I'm not sure why my friend decided this guy was a terrorist. Probably because it was so close to home, and so reminiscent of 9/11. The definition of terrorist indicates that it's someone that is using violence or threats to intimidate or coerce for political reasons. This guy had a grudge and there are lots of victims left in his wake. Fist, there are two missing people, feared dead, in the office building he crashed into. Second, he burned his house down before he left... so there's a homeless family out there somewhere. Was he really trying to force, persuade or coerce? Or was he making a crazy statement? I think mental illness does not qualify for terrorism status. But that's just me.
--Sandee Wagner
One of my more militant friends, who admittedly lives in the Austin area, so has a right to be upset, called the crazy man a terrorist.
I immediately read the rant and gave it some thought. Do I think this guy was a terrorist? No. He had a grudge against the US government and a real hard-on against the IRS. He outlined his many troubles with the tax code through the years and his attempts to circumvent the laws. Did I feel sorry for this guy? No.
Let me point out a couple of things: First, he set up his own religion to try and get around paying taxes. I don't have any respect for anyone that does that kind of thing. A religion is not something to pretend about. Second, he owned his own airplane. At this point, I'm done. In the US, if you make over about $80,000 a year, you can expect to pay 28% or more in taxes. That's the rule. Expect it. If you're making enough money to pay for private pilot's lessons and to buy a plane, which generally cost over $100,000, then I don't feel sorry for you at all.
Was this guy a terrorist? Because he was angry about the government? No. No more than the former employees who walk back into their places of employment and open fire. Mental illness makes some people paranoid. It makes some people fixate on an institution or group and blame all their life's problems on that group or place. That doesn't make them terrorists.
I'm not sure why my friend decided this guy was a terrorist. Probably because it was so close to home, and so reminiscent of 9/11. The definition of terrorist indicates that it's someone that is using violence or threats to intimidate or coerce for political reasons. This guy had a grudge and there are lots of victims left in his wake. Fist, there are two missing people, feared dead, in the office building he crashed into. Second, he burned his house down before he left... so there's a homeless family out there somewhere. Was he really trying to force, persuade or coerce? Or was he making a crazy statement? I think mental illness does not qualify for terrorism status. But that's just me.
--Sandee Wagner
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Comfort Food
I've gotten a little distressing news. And I'm dealing with it in a way that is probably not good for me. That's right, comfort food. I'll admit it, I'm a stress eater.
I have one sister who loses weight when she's stressed. If that worked for me, I'd be a size 10.
I'm just the opposite. And when I'm stressed, I look for the foods of my childhood, comfort foods. When I talk about childhood eating, I should start with one caveat. My mother was not one of those great cooks that passed down lots of good recipes to me. She taught me to make no fail gravy and her turkey curry. That's about it. Don't get me started on her pecan pie made from egg beaters so the pecans sink...
When I think of comfort foods, I am really thinking of food textures. Smooth, creamy warm. Homemade macaroni and cheese. Homemade chicken and dumplins. That kind of food. Even tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches fill that need for me. It's psychological, I'm sure.
So, tonight is homemade chicken and dumplins. Only I have turkey broth and turkey, so it's turkey and dumplins instead. I'm sure it will be just as good. When we lived in North Carolina, they made a distinction between chicken and dumplins (that puff up) and chicken and pastry (which stays pie crust thin). I'm a dumplin person, so that's what I'm making. And it's important to me that the sauce it goes over be gravy thick and that the dumplins are completely cooked. No raw dough in my comfort food.
I wish I had a great handed down recipe for this. I don't. I'm going to bust out the Bisquick box and go nuts. I'm sure it will be fine. It will calm my nerves just by being warm, creamy and homemade.
--Sandee Wagner
I have one sister who loses weight when she's stressed. If that worked for me, I'd be a size 10.
I'm just the opposite. And when I'm stressed, I look for the foods of my childhood, comfort foods. When I talk about childhood eating, I should start with one caveat. My mother was not one of those great cooks that passed down lots of good recipes to me. She taught me to make no fail gravy and her turkey curry. That's about it. Don't get me started on her pecan pie made from egg beaters so the pecans sink...
When I think of comfort foods, I am really thinking of food textures. Smooth, creamy warm. Homemade macaroni and cheese. Homemade chicken and dumplins. That kind of food. Even tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches fill that need for me. It's psychological, I'm sure.
So, tonight is homemade chicken and dumplins. Only I have turkey broth and turkey, so it's turkey and dumplins instead. I'm sure it will be just as good. When we lived in North Carolina, they made a distinction between chicken and dumplins (that puff up) and chicken and pastry (which stays pie crust thin). I'm a dumplin person, so that's what I'm making. And it's important to me that the sauce it goes over be gravy thick and that the dumplins are completely cooked. No raw dough in my comfort food.
I wish I had a great handed down recipe for this. I don't. I'm going to bust out the Bisquick box and go nuts. I'm sure it will be fine. It will calm my nerves just by being warm, creamy and homemade.
--Sandee Wagner
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
A good cause
I've been unemployed long enough. I've decided to 'give back.' Once I made the decision to do some volunteer work, it was just a matter of deciding which cause or organization to support. There are a LOT of good causes out there. All of them need help. All of them depend on volunteers.
So, how did I decide which cause to support? I went for close. That's right. I found one within two miles of my house. That makes it convenient and easier. Plus, cheaper, since I'm not getting a paycheck to fund my gasoline.
I did the orientation this morning. Pretty basic stuff. I know about their goals and their projects. I know that they value their volunteers. I also know that they could use someone with my skill set. I signed up for several different volunteer positions. Hopefully, they'll call me and put me to work.
And that, in turn, will mean that a Real Job will come up, right? Does your universe operate on those kind of perverse lines? Just when you get yourself organized for one thing, you get thrown a monkey wrench? That's what I'm used to in my life. I think the volunteering will work out great for me. Especially since it looks like we'll be moving again real soon.
--Sandee Wagner
So, how did I decide which cause to support? I went for close. That's right. I found one within two miles of my house. That makes it convenient and easier. Plus, cheaper, since I'm not getting a paycheck to fund my gasoline.
I did the orientation this morning. Pretty basic stuff. I know about their goals and their projects. I know that they value their volunteers. I also know that they could use someone with my skill set. I signed up for several different volunteer positions. Hopefully, they'll call me and put me to work.
And that, in turn, will mean that a Real Job will come up, right? Does your universe operate on those kind of perverse lines? Just when you get yourself organized for one thing, you get thrown a monkey wrench? That's what I'm used to in my life. I think the volunteering will work out great for me. Especially since it looks like we'll be moving again real soon.
--Sandee Wagner
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The Olympics
Every two years, the Olympics hit the airwaves and we see sports history in the making. The events change a little. The rules flex and the competition increases each and every outing. We are currently in the middle of the Winter Olympics being held in Vancouver, British Columbia.
I am not a winter sports enthusiast. I have never gone skiing. I spend very little time on ice skates although I will admit I wanted to learn to play hockey as a teen. My father refused. My sister got figure skating lessons and I seethed. But I digress.
I married a man who does not like to be cold. So while family members tried to rally group visits to ski, we pled finances and avoided it at all costs. Ask us to accompany you to a beach somewhere and we're in.
There's a lot about the Olympics that I find heartwarming and the newscasters manage to give a lot of personal interest by researching the competitors and finding the human angles on the stories they tell. Often these stories involve little kids wanting something so badly that they give up hours of play time to sacrifice and work their way into the upper echelons of amateur athletics. These stories always have the same effect on me.
I feel worthless.
That's right, instead of being inspired by their stories of sacrifice and loss, I am forever reminded that I have never wanted anything badly enough to work that hard for it. I was never willing to practice anything for four hours before heading off to school, then returning after school for another four hours of practice before dropping into bed, doing a rinse and repeat the next day. I am not that guy.
Being reminded of my frivolous nature and magpie tendencies is lowering to say the least. One likes to think that 'we can overcome' and 'fight the good fight' but realizing that you just don't care enough to make the effort is depressing. I get distracted. I don't stick with anything. I am a jack of all trades, master of none.
The Olympian athletes inspire the very young to greatness--to follow in their footsteps. For folks my age, we watch and see, thinking, "ow, they're going to feel THAT in the morning!" "How do they bend that way? It's not right." "They don't even look cold, how can they not be freezing?"
I am not inclined to try to better myself and challenge sports to attain international attention. It just looks like too much work.
--Sandee Wagner
I am not a winter sports enthusiast. I have never gone skiing. I spend very little time on ice skates although I will admit I wanted to learn to play hockey as a teen. My father refused. My sister got figure skating lessons and I seethed. But I digress.
I married a man who does not like to be cold. So while family members tried to rally group visits to ski, we pled finances and avoided it at all costs. Ask us to accompany you to a beach somewhere and we're in.
There's a lot about the Olympics that I find heartwarming and the newscasters manage to give a lot of personal interest by researching the competitors and finding the human angles on the stories they tell. Often these stories involve little kids wanting something so badly that they give up hours of play time to sacrifice and work their way into the upper echelons of amateur athletics. These stories always have the same effect on me.
I feel worthless.
That's right, instead of being inspired by their stories of sacrifice and loss, I am forever reminded that I have never wanted anything badly enough to work that hard for it. I was never willing to practice anything for four hours before heading off to school, then returning after school for another four hours of practice before dropping into bed, doing a rinse and repeat the next day. I am not that guy.
Being reminded of my frivolous nature and magpie tendencies is lowering to say the least. One likes to think that 'we can overcome' and 'fight the good fight' but realizing that you just don't care enough to make the effort is depressing. I get distracted. I don't stick with anything. I am a jack of all trades, master of none.
The Olympian athletes inspire the very young to greatness--to follow in their footsteps. For folks my age, we watch and see, thinking, "ow, they're going to feel THAT in the morning!" "How do they bend that way? It's not right." "They don't even look cold, how can they not be freezing?"
I am not inclined to try to better myself and challenge sports to attain international attention. It just looks like too much work.
--Sandee Wagner
Monday, February 15, 2010
Don't be in a hurry--it never pays
This morning, I had an appointment at a doctor's office 'clear across town'. Then I had a volunteer orientation two hours later on my side of town. So, since I had some place to be... the doctor's appointment went long. I'll admit it, I broke the equipment. I always make computers break down. It's a gift.
When I left the doctor's office, I had about twenty minutes to get all the way to the other side of town. So, I looked at the mapped path on my GPS and took off. I was making good time, too, until I hit the construction zone. Which appears to be the entire extent of Mid-Town. I almost rammed a woman who wanted to go left across three lanes of traffic choked by construction. I was chanting, "turn right and take the next light; turn right and take the next light". She didn't.
I'm lucky I didn't get pulled over. I rushed around, took a different route that took me about three miles out of my way, then whipped back and got to the meeting about 12 minutes late. I apologized to the nice lady who met me at the door and told her that I was there for orientation... and I was late. She just looked puzzled and told me they only had orientation on Wednesdays.
So, I rushed across town for nothing. Because this non-profit's website has a flawed calendar. I want to be calm about it. I want to not be angry. It's a non-profit. Probably a volunteer does their website calendar. But I can't get past that rush across town... for nothing.
I'm trying to work myself up to go back to the website and find the NEXT orientation. It's a good cause. I should volunteer... Maybe they need someone to do their website??
--Sandee Wagner
When I left the doctor's office, I had about twenty minutes to get all the way to the other side of town. So, I looked at the mapped path on my GPS and took off. I was making good time, too, until I hit the construction zone. Which appears to be the entire extent of Mid-Town. I almost rammed a woman who wanted to go left across three lanes of traffic choked by construction. I was chanting, "turn right and take the next light; turn right and take the next light". She didn't.
I'm lucky I didn't get pulled over. I rushed around, took a different route that took me about three miles out of my way, then whipped back and got to the meeting about 12 minutes late. I apologized to the nice lady who met me at the door and told her that I was there for orientation... and I was late. She just looked puzzled and told me they only had orientation on Wednesdays.
So, I rushed across town for nothing. Because this non-profit's website has a flawed calendar. I want to be calm about it. I want to not be angry. It's a non-profit. Probably a volunteer does their website calendar. But I can't get past that rush across town... for nothing.
I'm trying to work myself up to go back to the website and find the NEXT orientation. It's a good cause. I should volunteer... Maybe they need someone to do their website??
--Sandee Wagner
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Happy Valentine's Day
When I was a kid, Valentine was a saint. He was one of the ones that we tried to dress up like on All Saint's Day at Catholic school. These days, no one says "St. Valentine's Day", they've dropped the saint and just refer to it as Valentine's Day. I'm not sure being martyred for their faith made either of the known Valentines much of a conventional basis for chocolate hearts or red roses. Being buried on February 14th doesn't really make it seem like a lover's day, does it?
Commercialization doesn't necessarily make something worse. A lot of things seem to be improved when advertising executives think them out and make them palatable to a massive audience. It's kind of hard to remember that when the two Valentines were dying for their faith, they were the rock stars of their age. Over the course of time, we forget that for someone to attain that status in the Catholic faith, their works and story had to be kept alive and cheerleaded for over two hundred years. People made it their life's work to remember the miracles and campaign to get both of these Valentines considered for sainthood. Nowadays, I think Marilyn Monroe and Elvis are the only two Americans who might be kept in people's hearts for more than two hundred years. These days, we tend to knock people off pedestals, not enshrine them there.
We celebrate Valentine's Day by remembering our sweethearts. It's an observation of eternal love. All of the items that are traditional gifts for this anniversary symbolize true love. From a religious standpoint, sacrificing your life because of your faith is the ultimate expression of love for the Lord. As a child, I was disturbed by the stories told to me by the nuns--how terrifying to be expected to sacrifice your life for an ideal.
As a parent, I would easily have sacrificed my life to save my child a moment of distress. A few years of maturity gave me the understanding to see how love affects all actions. Most parents' love is true and eternal. Sacrifice for a loved one becomes understandable when you've truly loved. It's a tricky thing to explain. I think that you have to experience love before you can look at situations and see its impact.
Regardless of your understanding of love and its impacts, today is the day set aside for remembrance of love. Today is not a day for parental love to be explored, it's not a day to expose sacrifices or martyrdom. Valentine's Day is a day for couples to explore their love for each other. Even though its symbolized by cupids shooting arrows, hearts, chocolate and roses, love is a long term commitment to the happiness of your mate.
Commercialization doesn't necessarily make something worse. A lot of things seem to be improved when advertising executives think them out and make them palatable to a massive audience. It's kind of hard to remember that when the two Valentines were dying for their faith, they were the rock stars of their age. Over the course of time, we forget that for someone to attain that status in the Catholic faith, their works and story had to be kept alive and cheerleaded for over two hundred years. People made it their life's work to remember the miracles and campaign to get both of these Valentines considered for sainthood. Nowadays, I think Marilyn Monroe and Elvis are the only two Americans who might be kept in people's hearts for more than two hundred years. These days, we tend to knock people off pedestals, not enshrine them there.
We celebrate Valentine's Day by remembering our sweethearts. It's an observation of eternal love. All of the items that are traditional gifts for this anniversary symbolize true love. From a religious standpoint, sacrificing your life because of your faith is the ultimate expression of love for the Lord. As a child, I was disturbed by the stories told to me by the nuns--how terrifying to be expected to sacrifice your life for an ideal.
As a parent, I would easily have sacrificed my life to save my child a moment of distress. A few years of maturity gave me the understanding to see how love affects all actions. Most parents' love is true and eternal. Sacrifice for a loved one becomes understandable when you've truly loved. It's a tricky thing to explain. I think that you have to experience love before you can look at situations and see its impact.
Regardless of your understanding of love and its impacts, today is the day set aside for remembrance of love. Today is not a day for parental love to be explored, it's not a day to expose sacrifices or martyrdom. Valentine's Day is a day for couples to explore their love for each other. Even though its symbolized by cupids shooting arrows, hearts, chocolate and roses, love is a long term commitment to the happiness of your mate.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
The Next Big Thing
I think every writer must feel a need to try and 'catch the wave' of whatever the next big thing is--it's a dream to be right there with a manuscript that's just what the editors want.
About 6 months ago, I remember seeing an editor that was actively seeking "steampunk" themed romances and novels. I had to stop and wikipedia the term. What I envisioned was some kind of dark urban fantasy where the environment is twisted in some way. This lends itself to apocalyptic themes and time travel for sure. But it did make me wonder--what is that editor thinking? Will this be the Next Big Thing? We're suddenly tired of vampires and werewolves? I guess they have run their course, even I'm tired of them.
Then I picked up the new Katie MacAlister novel, Steamed, and suddenly everything was clear to me. What the editor was really saying was, "I heard about this really great new book contracted by my competitors that is bound to be the Next Big Thing." All of us want to predict the future. We want to know what sells, what's hot. The writers that keep their ears to the ground (or write really fast!) probably manage to catch that wave. They were submitting their steampunk novels when I was still wondering what it was.
I've watched a lot of surfers in my years living near the ocean. One pattern is very common. They paddle out to a certain point, face the ocean and watch the waves. When they see one they like, they turn their board and start paddling, trying to catch that wave. Sometimes they've timed it right, sometimes they miss.
How often do two movies hit the theaters around the same time where the theme is generally the same? I can name lots of instances, but think about when Kevin Costner's Robin Hood hit the theaters, about a month later, another Robin Hood movie was released. No one remembers that one. One of the big studios released a baseball movie (Eight Men Out in 1988) and then, almost immediately, there were more baseball films released (Field of Dreams in 1989). Which means that these studios heard that the other one was working on a baseball movie and started looking specifically for a baseball plot. Recently, there are plenty that follow that same pattern: Planet 51, Monsters vs. Aliens, Aliens in the Attic, you get my meaning.
Lots of the social commentary movies are the same. Every studio produced an anti-war movie about three years into the Iraq conflict. They hear that one is making a movie and then the others have to do one too. It's easy to see that in a competitive environment, like film and books, you'd want to be sure and have something to suit the next big thing.
From a writer's standpoint, we'd rather BE that next big thing. I'd rather write the book of my heart and have some editor look at it and think: "This is great. This is big!" Then all the other editors would want to be just like her... looking for something like MY manuscript that they can try to rush to market.
It's just one big crapshoot after all. Hard to predict that wave. We're all surfers. Sometimes we see it and catch it, sometimes we miss it. What's important is being out in the water.
--Sandee Wagner
About 6 months ago, I remember seeing an editor that was actively seeking "steampunk" themed romances and novels. I had to stop and wikipedia the term. What I envisioned was some kind of dark urban fantasy where the environment is twisted in some way. This lends itself to apocalyptic themes and time travel for sure. But it did make me wonder--what is that editor thinking? Will this be the Next Big Thing? We're suddenly tired of vampires and werewolves? I guess they have run their course, even I'm tired of them.
Then I picked up the new Katie MacAlister novel, Steamed, and suddenly everything was clear to me. What the editor was really saying was, "I heard about this really great new book contracted by my competitors that is bound to be the Next Big Thing." All of us want to predict the future. We want to know what sells, what's hot. The writers that keep their ears to the ground (or write really fast!) probably manage to catch that wave. They were submitting their steampunk novels when I was still wondering what it was.
I've watched a lot of surfers in my years living near the ocean. One pattern is very common. They paddle out to a certain point, face the ocean and watch the waves. When they see one they like, they turn their board and start paddling, trying to catch that wave. Sometimes they've timed it right, sometimes they miss.
How often do two movies hit the theaters around the same time where the theme is generally the same? I can name lots of instances, but think about when Kevin Costner's Robin Hood hit the theaters, about a month later, another Robin Hood movie was released. No one remembers that one. One of the big studios released a baseball movie (Eight Men Out in 1988) and then, almost immediately, there were more baseball films released (Field of Dreams in 1989). Which means that these studios heard that the other one was working on a baseball movie and started looking specifically for a baseball plot. Recently, there are plenty that follow that same pattern: Planet 51, Monsters vs. Aliens, Aliens in the Attic, you get my meaning.
Lots of the social commentary movies are the same. Every studio produced an anti-war movie about three years into the Iraq conflict. They hear that one is making a movie and then the others have to do one too. It's easy to see that in a competitive environment, like film and books, you'd want to be sure and have something to suit the next big thing.
From a writer's standpoint, we'd rather BE that next big thing. I'd rather write the book of my heart and have some editor look at it and think: "This is great. This is big!" Then all the other editors would want to be just like her... looking for something like MY manuscript that they can try to rush to market.
It's just one big crapshoot after all. Hard to predict that wave. We're all surfers. Sometimes we see it and catch it, sometimes we miss it. What's important is being out in the water.
--Sandee Wagner
Friday, February 12, 2010
Gifts for Gals
After complaining copiously about styrofoam food yesterday, guess what I found on my porch this morning? That's right. Chocolate covered strawberries. They are glorious!!
I was watching the History channel the other day and I saw a couple of commercials for Shari's Berries. Since I generally watch TV with the laptop on my knees, I went to the website and typed in the secret word: history. Up popped their Valentine's specials. Oh my. Beautiful chocolate covered strawberries with swirls and sprinkles, all packed up with ice and sent to your loved one. I turned the computer around to my husband and said, "Look at this--aren't those beautiful?"
My husband, the most intelligent man I've ever been exposed to, took that hint and ordered some. They were delivered just as promised. Now, by the time they hit my doorstep, the green tops were a little wilted, but they still hold onto the berry to provide a handle and the strawberries taste tremendous.
Have I foregone all thoughts of losing weight? No. I still need to do that. But in this iteration, at least the candy is wrapping a fruit, right? It's got to be better to eat a chocolate covered strawberry than a chocolate covered truffle, doesn't it?
I chatted with another woman this morning, she mentioned that her favorite gift is edible also. She likes the edible bouquets from Edible Arrangements. I guess when you're talking about nice gifts, dipping stuff in chocolate puts things over the top in my estimation. Don't get me wrong. I'm as susceptible to beautiful flower arrangements as the next woman; however, nothing says Valentine's Day like chocolates.
So, gentlemen, if you have not already done your shopping for Valentine's Day, get into gear. Sunday is almost upon us and if you have a significant other, then you need to celebrate the day for lovers. Get a card, something with a lot of sincere emotion, and a little something for your one true love. You'll be repaid in full.
--Sandee Wagner
I was watching the History channel the other day and I saw a couple of commercials for Shari's Berries. Since I generally watch TV with the laptop on my knees, I went to the website and typed in the secret word: history. Up popped their Valentine's specials. Oh my. Beautiful chocolate covered strawberries with swirls and sprinkles, all packed up with ice and sent to your loved one. I turned the computer around to my husband and said, "Look at this--aren't those beautiful?"
My husband, the most intelligent man I've ever been exposed to, took that hint and ordered some. They were delivered just as promised. Now, by the time they hit my doorstep, the green tops were a little wilted, but they still hold onto the berry to provide a handle and the strawberries taste tremendous.
Have I foregone all thoughts of losing weight? No. I still need to do that. But in this iteration, at least the candy is wrapping a fruit, right? It's got to be better to eat a chocolate covered strawberry than a chocolate covered truffle, doesn't it?
I chatted with another woman this morning, she mentioned that her favorite gift is edible also. She likes the edible bouquets from Edible Arrangements. I guess when you're talking about nice gifts, dipping stuff in chocolate puts things over the top in my estimation. Don't get me wrong. I'm as susceptible to beautiful flower arrangements as the next woman; however, nothing says Valentine's Day like chocolates.
So, gentlemen, if you have not already done your shopping for Valentine's Day, get into gear. Sunday is almost upon us and if you have a significant other, then you need to celebrate the day for lovers. Get a card, something with a lot of sincere emotion, and a little something for your one true love. You'll be repaid in full.
--Sandee Wagner
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Styrofoam Food
Like many Americans, I am fighting a losing battle against weight gain. In an effort to lose weight and improve my overall health, I've tried a lot of things.
For four months, my husband and I ate a pure vegan diet. I'm not sure how vegans can leave the house...or get beyond five steps from the nearest bathroom. After four months of careful cooking, eating and food preparation, I stepped on the scale. I hadn't lost a pound.
We've tried high protein diets, which seem to work spectacularly for my husband. I can lose a little weight, but not much on that diet. Plus the real problem is that after about six months, I'm ready to commit murder for a bowl of pasta.
The only real substantial weight loss I've had was on a 500 calorie a day liquid fast which was monitored by a doctor with weekly visits. I lost the weight but only kept it off for about two years. I was unable to maintain this weight. The minute I started eating more than one full meal a day, the weight started back on.
Nowadays, I read food labels and try to make intelligent choices about the foods I eat. I've been buying cereal and protein bars that are geared toward weight loss. One commonality is that they all seem to be made of styrofoam. Don't get me wrong, some of them are very tasty, but the texture is like packing pellets. What is that? Puffed rice?
I have long since quit buying rice cakes. I'm not saying that they are not edible. I had a coworker who stuck one in the microwave with a slice of cheese on top and called it a meal. I've tried all the toppings and the texture is still a dealbreaker for me. The smaller, chip sized ones are okay, in fact, the caramel and apple cinnamon ones taste like candy to me. Eating them 'chip sized' seems to negate the texture problem somewhat. But the full sized rice cakes are a killer to me. The texture problem revolves around the fact that they squeek on your teeth. I can't get past it. But now that the styrofoam pellets are in granola and protein bars, it's kind of hard to get away from it. So, is this the future of weight loss foods? Styrofoam?
--Sandee Wagner
For four months, my husband and I ate a pure vegan diet. I'm not sure how vegans can leave the house...or get beyond five steps from the nearest bathroom. After four months of careful cooking, eating and food preparation, I stepped on the scale. I hadn't lost a pound.
We've tried high protein diets, which seem to work spectacularly for my husband. I can lose a little weight, but not much on that diet. Plus the real problem is that after about six months, I'm ready to commit murder for a bowl of pasta.
The only real substantial weight loss I've had was on a 500 calorie a day liquid fast which was monitored by a doctor with weekly visits. I lost the weight but only kept it off for about two years. I was unable to maintain this weight. The minute I started eating more than one full meal a day, the weight started back on.
Nowadays, I read food labels and try to make intelligent choices about the foods I eat. I've been buying cereal and protein bars that are geared toward weight loss. One commonality is that they all seem to be made of styrofoam. Don't get me wrong, some of them are very tasty, but the texture is like packing pellets. What is that? Puffed rice?
I have long since quit buying rice cakes. I'm not saying that they are not edible. I had a coworker who stuck one in the microwave with a slice of cheese on top and called it a meal. I've tried all the toppings and the texture is still a dealbreaker for me. The smaller, chip sized ones are okay, in fact, the caramel and apple cinnamon ones taste like candy to me. Eating them 'chip sized' seems to negate the texture problem somewhat. But the full sized rice cakes are a killer to me. The texture problem revolves around the fact that they squeek on your teeth. I can't get past it. But now that the styrofoam pellets are in granola and protein bars, it's kind of hard to get away from it. So, is this the future of weight loss foods? Styrofoam?
--Sandee Wagner
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Keepers
People are always emailing squishy poems that talk about life or love. Some of them have pictures of pretty babies dressed up like flowers or insects, or large eyed puppies and dancing fairies. I generally scan them, reading them only if I've never heard the words before. It's always nice to have something in the inbox that is upbeat and happy, but not all the verse is something worth keeping. I feel kind of sorry for Mr. Brown, who wrote some great inspirational verses that were published on posters back in the early 90's. I see his words conscripted and accredited to the Dalai Lama all the time. There are some verses that are kept alive through repetition and they become important to the people who quote them.
I have a couple of shelves of books that I will read and re-read. When I get that bubble bath ready and take a glass of wine into the bathroom, I want to settle into the fragrant hot water with a good book. I won't take a new book into the bathtub. I don't want to spoil a good bath with a bad read. I'll take a book that I know is good into my relaxing oasis.
Not all books are keepers. Not all stories resonate with me. But the ones that do, end up dogeared and well loved on my keeper shelf. I have books on my shelf that are keepers because of one scene or a few paragraphs. Those books generally have some post it flags marking the passages that I will return to over and over again.
Some of those words and phrases resonate because life has given us the same experiences. When we read the words, we have a visceral response to the imagery. I love that feeling evoked by excellent prose. Here's one of my favorites, from Lois McMasters Bujold's Shards of Honor:
"She took the story in like some strange, spiked gift, too fragile to drop, too painful to hold."
There's a good reason why this writer is such an award winner. That verbiage has lived long past the storyline. When someone tells me something that was extremely painful to them, and their sharing makes me uncomfortable, this is the line that goes through my mind. So uncommon. So true.
I would love to write a line that is quoted years later. Something better than "it was a dark and stormy night" one might hope. I can't imagine what I would say to Ms. Bujold if I ever met her, but I'm sure my dogeared copy of Shards of Honor would speak volumes.
Not every book is a keeper. Not every poem is a keeper. You have to be selective about how you spend your time reading. And in the bathtub.
--Sandee Wagner
I have a couple of shelves of books that I will read and re-read. When I get that bubble bath ready and take a glass of wine into the bathroom, I want to settle into the fragrant hot water with a good book. I won't take a new book into the bathtub. I don't want to spoil a good bath with a bad read. I'll take a book that I know is good into my relaxing oasis.
Not all books are keepers. Not all stories resonate with me. But the ones that do, end up dogeared and well loved on my keeper shelf. I have books on my shelf that are keepers because of one scene or a few paragraphs. Those books generally have some post it flags marking the passages that I will return to over and over again.
Some of those words and phrases resonate because life has given us the same experiences. When we read the words, we have a visceral response to the imagery. I love that feeling evoked by excellent prose. Here's one of my favorites, from Lois McMasters Bujold's Shards of Honor:
"She took the story in like some strange, spiked gift, too fragile to drop, too painful to hold."
There's a good reason why this writer is such an award winner. That verbiage has lived long past the storyline. When someone tells me something that was extremely painful to them, and their sharing makes me uncomfortable, this is the line that goes through my mind. So uncommon. So true.
I would love to write a line that is quoted years later. Something better than "it was a dark and stormy night" one might hope. I can't imagine what I would say to Ms. Bujold if I ever met her, but I'm sure my dogeared copy of Shards of Honor would speak volumes.
Not every book is a keeper. Not every poem is a keeper. You have to be selective about how you spend your time reading. And in the bathtub.
--Sandee Wagner
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
A Diamond Of A Carat Or More...
I've worked in IT for the past fifteen years. It is a department (and field) that is generally male dominated. Since I am an older woman, and therefore not threatening, a lot of the younger men would ask my opinion on gift giving occasions. I have given the 'appropriateness' speech to countless young men and guided them on acceptable gifts for women they have just started dating, women they have been dating a while, and women they intend to marry. At some point, the conversation always got silly.
"Hey Bob, how are you doing today?"
"Great Sandee, I just wanted to ask your advice. Valentine's Day is coming up and I need to get Greta a gift."
"Umm. Yeah, you do."
"So, I'm thinking about this? What do you think?"
"Bob, that's a nice snowblower, but how long have you and Greta been dating?"
"Going on four years now."
"Then I have a better suggestion for you..."
There is a point in a relationship when a guy should no longer need to vet his purchases with the office mother confessor. If a guy has been dating a gal for four years, then he has a bigger decision to make than flowers or chocolates (or both!) After that amount of time invested, I think a guy should be marrying his girlfriend. At least asking... that's when I developed the "Diamond of a Carat or More" speech.
Whenever a kid asked me, I always took them seriously and gave the most sage advice I could muster.
"Well, sure, she might love to have tickets to ComicCon for your anniversary."
"If you spend a lot of time hunting, then a new thirty ought six might really make her happy."
But when a guy who knew better--a married guy, or one of the bosses--showed up asking the same question, then I always said (very loudly):
"A Diamond of a Carat or More is Always an Acceptable Gift!"
Then they left me alone. So, it was a win-win as far as I was concerned. If they bought that girl a crappy present, it could not come back to haunt me. Youngsters need training and guidance. Some guys just know better. Valentine's Day is coming up, boys. If you want my advice, give me a call.
--Sandee Wagner
"Hey Bob, how are you doing today?"
"Great Sandee, I just wanted to ask your advice. Valentine's Day is coming up and I need to get Greta a gift."
"Umm. Yeah, you do."
"So, I'm thinking about this? What do you think?"
"Bob, that's a nice snowblower, but how long have you and Greta been dating?"
"Going on four years now."
"Then I have a better suggestion for you..."
There is a point in a relationship when a guy should no longer need to vet his purchases with the office mother confessor. If a guy has been dating a gal for four years, then he has a bigger decision to make than flowers or chocolates (or both!) After that amount of time invested, I think a guy should be marrying his girlfriend. At least asking... that's when I developed the "Diamond of a Carat or More" speech.
Whenever a kid asked me, I always took them seriously and gave the most sage advice I could muster.
"Well, sure, she might love to have tickets to ComicCon for your anniversary."
"If you spend a lot of time hunting, then a new thirty ought six might really make her happy."
But when a guy who knew better--a married guy, or one of the bosses--showed up asking the same question, then I always said (very loudly):
"A Diamond of a Carat or More is Always an Acceptable Gift!"
Then they left me alone. So, it was a win-win as far as I was concerned. If they bought that girl a crappy present, it could not come back to haunt me. Youngsters need training and guidance. Some guys just know better. Valentine's Day is coming up, boys. If you want my advice, give me a call.
--Sandee Wagner
Monday, February 8, 2010
Snowing Again
I know that the weather here is nothing like in the frozen tundra up north, but we are having a cold winter. We've had so much snow and rain that the yard is like a big sponge. If you put your weight on your foot, you're going to lose a shoe.
I planned to run some errands today--but based on what's happening outside my windows, I think I'll stay close to home. The snow may not stick (it's been above freezing for a couple of days, so the ground is warmer) but I'm sure it's going to make people drive crazy.
That's right, I said it. People around here drive crazy in bad conditions. There seem to be two main culprits: 1) Folks with 4-wheel drive vehicles who think they are immune to road conditions; and 2) Folks who drive big, heavy vehicles. Not all trucks. Some big sedans. These guys somehow feel that if you weigh enough, your wheels will always contact cement or asphalt. I really don't want to be in their path when they realize the folly of their ways.
Even when it rains, there is a certain segment of society that does not slow down appropriately. I guess it always amazes me. I am convinced that if a bad thing can happen--it will happen to me. I'm Irish enough to think, "it could be worse".
The vehicle I'm driving now has been banged into more than any other car I've ever driven. If they still sold those bright orange bicycle flags (remember those?) I swear I'd nail one to my back bumper. I know the visibility inside the car is dreadful. Truly if you get cut off in traffic by a PT Cruiser, consider the fact that the driver did NOT see you. What I never realized is how stealthy the car is. People never see it. They back right into it. I've been t-boned in a parking lot for pete's sake!
As long as I drive the 'accident waiting to happen' vehicle, I'll choose not to go out in bad road conditions. Maybe next time I'll buy a big heavy car, or a 4-wheel drive vehicle and play fast and loose in these road conditions. But for now, I'm staying close to home.
--Sandee Wagner
I planned to run some errands today--but based on what's happening outside my windows, I think I'll stay close to home. The snow may not stick (it's been above freezing for a couple of days, so the ground is warmer) but I'm sure it's going to make people drive crazy.
That's right, I said it. People around here drive crazy in bad conditions. There seem to be two main culprits: 1) Folks with 4-wheel drive vehicles who think they are immune to road conditions; and 2) Folks who drive big, heavy vehicles. Not all trucks. Some big sedans. These guys somehow feel that if you weigh enough, your wheels will always contact cement or asphalt. I really don't want to be in their path when they realize the folly of their ways.
Even when it rains, there is a certain segment of society that does not slow down appropriately. I guess it always amazes me. I am convinced that if a bad thing can happen--it will happen to me. I'm Irish enough to think, "it could be worse".
The vehicle I'm driving now has been banged into more than any other car I've ever driven. If they still sold those bright orange bicycle flags (remember those?) I swear I'd nail one to my back bumper. I know the visibility inside the car is dreadful. Truly if you get cut off in traffic by a PT Cruiser, consider the fact that the driver did NOT see you. What I never realized is how stealthy the car is. People never see it. They back right into it. I've been t-boned in a parking lot for pete's sake!
As long as I drive the 'accident waiting to happen' vehicle, I'll choose not to go out in bad road conditions. Maybe next time I'll buy a big heavy car, or a 4-wheel drive vehicle and play fast and loose in these road conditions. But for now, I'm staying close to home.
--Sandee Wagner
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Superbowl Sunday
I don't spend a lot of time following football. I treat it the same way I treat the ballet, "Cool, men in spandex!" It's all about the butts. Really. Second only to spandex clad men is men in kilts. But I digress.
I watch the superbowl with the same enthusiasm that I'll watch any football game. First question, "who are we cheering for?" Second question, "why?" Lacking any real reason to select one group over the other, I pick the underdog. I listen to the sportscasters talking about the match-up and then choose the one that they don't think has a chance. It works for me.
Then I generally spend the whole game saying, "who am I cheering for again? What color shirts do they have?"
What I love is the camaradarie. I love that the crowd is enthusiastic, but I have NO desire to be there in the stadium watching it live. I don't much like crowds. For some reason, in the back of my brain, there's always some disaster and then all those people stampeding trying to get out... creepy.
Watching a game on TV, with commentary, explanation and a good view without the cold weather and crappy seats seems like a huge bonus to me. One of the things I've always enjoyed about football is watching with my sons and listening to their reasons behind why each team does things. My son explained why the Colts defenders were all small and fast and the other team's were all huge and slow. I never knew. It gave me a great appreciation for Tony Dungy and his thinking. Seeing it played out while the boys explained it, well, I wouldn't have seen it without their analysis.
So, I'm looking forward to the game today. Peyton Manning is my son Jake's favorite, so I'll root for the Colts. One of my dearest friends will probably be Facebooking "Who Dat?" since she's a huge Saints fan. But really, what I'll be watching is the man butts. In spandex.
--Sandee Wagner
I watch the superbowl with the same enthusiasm that I'll watch any football game. First question, "who are we cheering for?" Second question, "why?" Lacking any real reason to select one group over the other, I pick the underdog. I listen to the sportscasters talking about the match-up and then choose the one that they don't think has a chance. It works for me.
Then I generally spend the whole game saying, "who am I cheering for again? What color shirts do they have?"
What I love is the camaradarie. I love that the crowd is enthusiastic, but I have NO desire to be there in the stadium watching it live. I don't much like crowds. For some reason, in the back of my brain, there's always some disaster and then all those people stampeding trying to get out... creepy.
Watching a game on TV, with commentary, explanation and a good view without the cold weather and crappy seats seems like a huge bonus to me. One of the things I've always enjoyed about football is watching with my sons and listening to their reasons behind why each team does things. My son explained why the Colts defenders were all small and fast and the other team's were all huge and slow. I never knew. It gave me a great appreciation for Tony Dungy and his thinking. Seeing it played out while the boys explained it, well, I wouldn't have seen it without their analysis.
So, I'm looking forward to the game today. Peyton Manning is my son Jake's favorite, so I'll root for the Colts. One of my dearest friends will probably be Facebooking "Who Dat?" since she's a huge Saints fan. But really, what I'll be watching is the man butts. In spandex.
--Sandee Wagner
Saturday, February 6, 2010
TV Watching Censorship
My husband thinks I watch too much HGTV. I should preface this by saying, I don't watch a lot of TV, I never have. He is the reason that we have a bazillion channels of cable TV. When I turn on the TV--like when I'm home alone--I will turn on HGTV and watch the home improvement shows.
Our home is our single largest investment, and it always has been. I have ramrodded a few home improvement projects that my husband can point to, but none of them were inspired by something I saw on HGTV.
Our kitchen remodel was one I planned from the day we signed the papers on this house. If I had not removed that blue from my life, I'm pretty sure I would have killed someone... So, the kitchen was first. We built a center island, removed an eating height bar and dropped in some display cabinetry. Then did a porcelain tile floor and restained all the cabinetry to match. I saved up the money in advance and hired out all the hard stuff. I'm not sure DH is over it yet.
Then, while he was gone, I decided that ten year old carpets needed to be replaced... and since we were replacing the flooring, why not put in some travertine? We hired it done, but ended up having to redo all the baseboards ourselves. I have to say, it made the house look a lot better.
The next project was the result of a long term plumbing leak. You know what I mean, that spot on the wall that sixteen coats of Kilz won't cover? That funky smell that won't go away? When we finally called in the experts and they certified a plumbing leak, we did the demolition ourselves. Some of the original two by fours had the consistency of pudding. Yuck. We gutted the space. But since it was gutted anyway and we had to replace everything, it was the perfect opportunity to move stuff around, right? The master bathroom remodel was an almost year long process. But we have two other bathrooms. So, no harm, no foul. We now have a wonderful walk in shower and a great corner tub. I didn't go nuts. I didn't insist on Carrera marble or Soapstone. We went with finishes that would not price our house out of the neighborhood. I did get a tankless hot water heater so I never EVER run out of hot water.
It's been years since I told my husband I wanted to change the interior of our home. Now, when he walks in and sees me watching HGTV he gets a little twitchy. He immediately commandeers the remote control and changes the channel. He thinks that if I don't see it on TV, I won't want to change the look of our home again.
Home ownership is a lot of things, I think of it as a commitment. A life sentence. There's always some maintenance that has to be done. And another project. I don't need a TV channel to give me ideas. I already have a list.
--Sandee Wagner
Our home is our single largest investment, and it always has been. I have ramrodded a few home improvement projects that my husband can point to, but none of them were inspired by something I saw on HGTV.
Our kitchen remodel was one I planned from the day we signed the papers on this house. If I had not removed that blue from my life, I'm pretty sure I would have killed someone... So, the kitchen was first. We built a center island, removed an eating height bar and dropped in some display cabinetry. Then did a porcelain tile floor and restained all the cabinetry to match. I saved up the money in advance and hired out all the hard stuff. I'm not sure DH is over it yet.
Then, while he was gone, I decided that ten year old carpets needed to be replaced... and since we were replacing the flooring, why not put in some travertine? We hired it done, but ended up having to redo all the baseboards ourselves. I have to say, it made the house look a lot better.
The next project was the result of a long term plumbing leak. You know what I mean, that spot on the wall that sixteen coats of Kilz won't cover? That funky smell that won't go away? When we finally called in the experts and they certified a plumbing leak, we did the demolition ourselves. Some of the original two by fours had the consistency of pudding. Yuck. We gutted the space. But since it was gutted anyway and we had to replace everything, it was the perfect opportunity to move stuff around, right? The master bathroom remodel was an almost year long process. But we have two other bathrooms. So, no harm, no foul. We now have a wonderful walk in shower and a great corner tub. I didn't go nuts. I didn't insist on Carrera marble or Soapstone. We went with finishes that would not price our house out of the neighborhood. I did get a tankless hot water heater so I never EVER run out of hot water.
It's been years since I told my husband I wanted to change the interior of our home. Now, when he walks in and sees me watching HGTV he gets a little twitchy. He immediately commandeers the remote control and changes the channel. He thinks that if I don't see it on TV, I won't want to change the look of our home again.
Home ownership is a lot of things, I think of it as a commitment. A life sentence. There's always some maintenance that has to be done. And another project. I don't need a TV channel to give me ideas. I already have a list.
--Sandee Wagner
Friday, February 5, 2010
Getting My Glam On
Today is a special event for my husband. There is an executive retiring from his company and they pulled out all the stops to do a retirement party for him. So, tonight, I'm arm-candy. I can't drink. I have to be on my best behavior. I need to make nice with a bunch of people I don't know--who won't remember my name the moment I turn my back.
Sounds like I'm not going to like it, doesn't it? That's not true.
I'm really looking forward to it. I enjoy dropping into social situations and 'working the room'. I love to quiz people about what they do, where they're from and how they like the US. Listening to the Scottish accents and South Americans talk is so much fun to me. I'm trying to 'file it all away' in my brain.
I guess social situations are really daunting to some people. When you're raised in a military family, and have to be the new kid in school over and over again, you get pretty good at 'working a crowd'. One of the most useful bits of advice I was ever given was from my mom. She assured me that people always love to talk about themselves. If you ask them questions that lead them to talk about their families, homes or kids, then you'll be a popular conversationalist.
I also like to bust the chops of the guys who try to talk work at these gatherings. You can really surprise them if you tell them "no work talk" and be firm about it. Executives are not used to being told what not to do. It's fun stuff, perverse, but entertaining.
So, today I'm getting my glam on. I believe I'll take a bubble bath, get a manicure and pedicure and do my hair all curly. I don't get out much so this is a big night for me. Any event held on the 30th floor downtown means some excellent city lights, even if the conversation lags. I do love a light show! I gotta go dust off my duds and make sure my outfit is appropriate. Wouldn't want to embarrass my DH!
--Sandee Wagner
Sounds like I'm not going to like it, doesn't it? That's not true.
I'm really looking forward to it. I enjoy dropping into social situations and 'working the room'. I love to quiz people about what they do, where they're from and how they like the US. Listening to the Scottish accents and South Americans talk is so much fun to me. I'm trying to 'file it all away' in my brain.
I guess social situations are really daunting to some people. When you're raised in a military family, and have to be the new kid in school over and over again, you get pretty good at 'working a crowd'. One of the most useful bits of advice I was ever given was from my mom. She assured me that people always love to talk about themselves. If you ask them questions that lead them to talk about their families, homes or kids, then you'll be a popular conversationalist.
I also like to bust the chops of the guys who try to talk work at these gatherings. You can really surprise them if you tell them "no work talk" and be firm about it. Executives are not used to being told what not to do. It's fun stuff, perverse, but entertaining.
So, today I'm getting my glam on. I believe I'll take a bubble bath, get a manicure and pedicure and do my hair all curly. I don't get out much so this is a big night for me. Any event held on the 30th floor downtown means some excellent city lights, even if the conversation lags. I do love a light show! I gotta go dust off my duds and make sure my outfit is appropriate. Wouldn't want to embarrass my DH!
--Sandee Wagner
Thursday, February 4, 2010
The Family Dance
The people I care most about can also be the hardest to please. My family is filled with characters. Personalities all over the map, temperaments that vary from sedate to high strung. We're a big family and all are individuals.
On one hand, it makes for fascinating conversations and interesting reunions. On the other hand, it can also lead to misunderstandings and hurt feelings. Why is it that the folks in our lives that we want most to please, are sometimes the hardest ones to make happy?
Years ago, I taught my children not to say that they hate each other. It's okay to hate what someone is doing, I'd say, but you still love them. They are your brothers and sisters. You don't have to LIKE them, but you do have to LOVE them. You don't get to pick your family, you have to make the best of what you get.
It's an intricate dance, tip toeing your way through sensitive feelings and perceptions of hurt. But it's always worth the trouble. Family is everything to me.
--Sandee Wagner
On one hand, it makes for fascinating conversations and interesting reunions. On the other hand, it can also lead to misunderstandings and hurt feelings. Why is it that the folks in our lives that we want most to please, are sometimes the hardest ones to make happy?
Years ago, I taught my children not to say that they hate each other. It's okay to hate what someone is doing, I'd say, but you still love them. They are your brothers and sisters. You don't have to LIKE them, but you do have to LOVE them. You don't get to pick your family, you have to make the best of what you get.
It's an intricate dance, tip toeing your way through sensitive feelings and perceptions of hurt. But it's always worth the trouble. Family is everything to me.
--Sandee Wagner
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Chasing Sasquatch
As I surf through the many channels looking for something to watch on cable TV, sometimes I happen upon true gold. On The Travel Channel, I happened across a show called "Bigfootville".
Now I should first preface this by saying, I actually know someone who spends their weekends out in the woods trying to catch a sighting of Bigfoot. And when I was introduced, I didn't even laugh. Bigfoot is big business in Oklahoma.
The Bigfootville show aired a few years ago, and included interviews and stakeouts with Native Americans who have legends about the hairy man that go back generations. These days, they are breaking out the new technology and using cameras and bait to try and capture the creature's image in the wild.
Everyone needs a passion and as hobbies go, this one harms no one. It allows grown men to camp out in the woods and scare themselves around campfires. I think it's kind of endearing. The Bigfoots (Bigfeet?) in Oklahoma are the reddish colored ones, the Sasquatch in the Northwest are black or dark brown, and of course, the Yeti in the Himalayas are mostly white. All are described as approximately the same size and cannot be confused with humans because of their gait, prints and size differential.
Another show on Animal Planet focused on three groups of intrepid scientists in the Northwest who were using differing techniques to try and capture images of Sasquatch. One group of women insisted that their pheromones would lure the beast from the hills. They camped out for several days and sang lullabies and Christmas carols (apparently because they knew all the words, not because of their timeliness!) One group included a veterinarian whose knowledge of large animal behavior caused him to set specific types of traps for his cameras. Another group was headed by a man who 'knows what he saw' and got a scientist to go back with him and collect samples from around the area.
All three groups has someone with tracking experience who found broken branches, evidence of nesting, and footprints. No one found any hair or physical evidence that could be tested to compare it to known DNA profiles (like elk, moose and deer). In both shows, the dejected searchers packed up their cameras and equipment and went home denied any proof positive.
I really think that history is sprinkled with tales of individuals that spend their whole life searching for the answer to a single problem or issue. I'm not sure that evidence of a 'missing link' or Yeti will provide much for the scientists, but that won't stop folks from looking. I'm just excited to know that if Bigfoot can be found, it might be right in my own backyard since Sapulpa has had the most sightings to date.
So, don't mock these intrepid explorers. When they finally find some trace evidence, we'll all be surprised, won't we??
--Sandee Wagner
Now I should first preface this by saying, I actually know someone who spends their weekends out in the woods trying to catch a sighting of Bigfoot. And when I was introduced, I didn't even laugh. Bigfoot is big business in Oklahoma.
The Bigfootville show aired a few years ago, and included interviews and stakeouts with Native Americans who have legends about the hairy man that go back generations. These days, they are breaking out the new technology and using cameras and bait to try and capture the creature's image in the wild.
Everyone needs a passion and as hobbies go, this one harms no one. It allows grown men to camp out in the woods and scare themselves around campfires. I think it's kind of endearing. The Bigfoots (Bigfeet?) in Oklahoma are the reddish colored ones, the Sasquatch in the Northwest are black or dark brown, and of course, the Yeti in the Himalayas are mostly white. All are described as approximately the same size and cannot be confused with humans because of their gait, prints and size differential.
Another show on Animal Planet focused on three groups of intrepid scientists in the Northwest who were using differing techniques to try and capture images of Sasquatch. One group of women insisted that their pheromones would lure the beast from the hills. They camped out for several days and sang lullabies and Christmas carols (apparently because they knew all the words, not because of their timeliness!) One group included a veterinarian whose knowledge of large animal behavior caused him to set specific types of traps for his cameras. Another group was headed by a man who 'knows what he saw' and got a scientist to go back with him and collect samples from around the area.
All three groups has someone with tracking experience who found broken branches, evidence of nesting, and footprints. No one found any hair or physical evidence that could be tested to compare it to known DNA profiles (like elk, moose and deer). In both shows, the dejected searchers packed up their cameras and equipment and went home denied any proof positive.
I really think that history is sprinkled with tales of individuals that spend their whole life searching for the answer to a single problem or issue. I'm not sure that evidence of a 'missing link' or Yeti will provide much for the scientists, but that won't stop folks from looking. I'm just excited to know that if Bigfoot can be found, it might be right in my own backyard since Sapulpa has had the most sightings to date.
So, don't mock these intrepid explorers. When they finally find some trace evidence, we'll all be surprised, won't we??
--Sandee Wagner
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
MRI versus CAT scan
This morning, I went for a CAT scan of my sinuses. My ENT recommended it to eliminate the possibility of 'mechanical problems' before he sends me off for allergy testing. I was not looking forward to this test at all.
The last test I can remember was an MRI they did of my abdomen a few years ago. If you like being stuck in a casket while a jackhammer goes off around your head for 45 minutes, then an MRI is for you.
The CAT scan took about five minutes and was so quiet I could hear myself breathe. I'm not sure what the different scans are for. I don't know why a doctor would order one over the other. I'm almost positive the last time I had these tests run, I had both done. So surely they look at tissue and bone in a different way. That said, CAT scans win hands down.
In an MRI you lay on the table and they wheel it into a tube where you're trapped for a very long (it feels long) time. I've heard of folks freaking out--and it doesn't surprise me in the least. It's cramped, nothing to look at, and then the jackhammering starts.
I've been having a lot of sinus infections with accompanying sinus headaches and I woke with one full blown this morning. If they had wheeled me into an MRI, my head would probably have exploded from the noise. Instead, I was treated to a soft whirring as the table wheeled in and out of the ring, and then it was done. I still have a headache, but at least it wasn't hammered into my skull.
In my book, CAT scans win hands down. Less time. Less noise. Less fuss. No undressing. Except, I had to take out my earrings and take my glasses off. On a scale of intrusive to not: this was way over on the "Not" side. Hopefully, it will tell my doctor something positive. Here's hoping.
--Sandee Wagner
The last test I can remember was an MRI they did of my abdomen a few years ago. If you like being stuck in a casket while a jackhammer goes off around your head for 45 minutes, then an MRI is for you.
The CAT scan took about five minutes and was so quiet I could hear myself breathe. I'm not sure what the different scans are for. I don't know why a doctor would order one over the other. I'm almost positive the last time I had these tests run, I had both done. So surely they look at tissue and bone in a different way. That said, CAT scans win hands down.
In an MRI you lay on the table and they wheel it into a tube where you're trapped for a very long (it feels long) time. I've heard of folks freaking out--and it doesn't surprise me in the least. It's cramped, nothing to look at, and then the jackhammering starts.
I've been having a lot of sinus infections with accompanying sinus headaches and I woke with one full blown this morning. If they had wheeled me into an MRI, my head would probably have exploded from the noise. Instead, I was treated to a soft whirring as the table wheeled in and out of the ring, and then it was done. I still have a headache, but at least it wasn't hammered into my skull.
In my book, CAT scans win hands down. Less time. Less noise. Less fuss. No undressing. Except, I had to take out my earrings and take my glasses off. On a scale of intrusive to not: this was way over on the "Not" side. Hopefully, it will tell my doctor something positive. Here's hoping.
--Sandee Wagner
Monday, February 1, 2010
Baffling Biometrics
Biometrics have recently been added to a majority of state's drivers licenses in an effort to increase homeland security. I don't have a beef with better preparedness or using technology to enhance our safety but I do baffle biometrics.
I worked for a company who processed electronic bill payments. You can imagine the security yoke around this office and its systems. We had to scan our security cards to get into the room where we could press our finger on a pad and have our fingerprint compared to the database to allow us entry into the offices.
I don't know how many times I alarmed the pad from trying and trying to get it to read my fingerprints. Eventually, the hardware guys gave me a bypass code that I could enter into the keypad to get into the offices. My fingerprint didn't read. Don't get me wrong--they gave me all kinds of advice on how to get it read. The one recommendation that worked for 90% of the rejected scannees was to rub their finger on the back of their neck, then try again. Yuck! I'm not sure what we're storing on the back of our necks... probably grease. Apparently, my lizard-like dry skin won't show up on the biometric scanner.
Fast forward to the state of Oklahoma Tag Office on new driver's license day. I waited in the line until it was my turn for the new license with magnetic strips for added security. Imagine my chagrin when I approached the desk and saw a biometric scanner for taking fingerprints. "Umm, these don't work too well on me."
"It'll have to work or we can't issue you a license."
"I don't mind it if you use ink."
"Just sit down, we'll get it to work."
Which, as you can imagine, were famous last words.
The state of Oklahoma collects two fingerprints, preferably a forefinger and a thumbprint from the right hand. But they can take other fingerprints, they just want two they can compare over and over again, each four years when the driver's license is renewed. The lady doing the scanning was professional, she never cussed or complained, but she did try all my digits about fifty times until she finally got two fingerprints to scan successfully. The line of consumers stacked up behind me and the murmurings were getting ugly when she finally flashed my picture and gave me my shiny new license.
As I stood up to leave, she said, "You'll have to remember which two fingers finally worked so they can scan those two when you come to get your license renewed." I said, "I don't remember RIGHT NOW which fingers finally worked. How am I going to figure it out in four years?" She just said, "NEXT!"
I've been talking to my husband about the chances of his company transferring him to another state... preferably before my current driver's license expires.
--Sandee Wagner
I worked for a company who processed electronic bill payments. You can imagine the security yoke around this office and its systems. We had to scan our security cards to get into the room where we could press our finger on a pad and have our fingerprint compared to the database to allow us entry into the offices.
I don't know how many times I alarmed the pad from trying and trying to get it to read my fingerprints. Eventually, the hardware guys gave me a bypass code that I could enter into the keypad to get into the offices. My fingerprint didn't read. Don't get me wrong--they gave me all kinds of advice on how to get it read. The one recommendation that worked for 90% of the rejected scannees was to rub their finger on the back of their neck, then try again. Yuck! I'm not sure what we're storing on the back of our necks... probably grease. Apparently, my lizard-like dry skin won't show up on the biometric scanner.
Fast forward to the state of Oklahoma Tag Office on new driver's license day. I waited in the line until it was my turn for the new license with magnetic strips for added security. Imagine my chagrin when I approached the desk and saw a biometric scanner for taking fingerprints. "Umm, these don't work too well on me."
"It'll have to work or we can't issue you a license."
"I don't mind it if you use ink."
"Just sit down, we'll get it to work."
Which, as you can imagine, were famous last words.
The state of Oklahoma collects two fingerprints, preferably a forefinger and a thumbprint from the right hand. But they can take other fingerprints, they just want two they can compare over and over again, each four years when the driver's license is renewed. The lady doing the scanning was professional, she never cussed or complained, but she did try all my digits about fifty times until she finally got two fingerprints to scan successfully. The line of consumers stacked up behind me and the murmurings were getting ugly when she finally flashed my picture and gave me my shiny new license.
As I stood up to leave, she said, "You'll have to remember which two fingers finally worked so they can scan those two when you come to get your license renewed." I said, "I don't remember RIGHT NOW which fingers finally worked. How am I going to figure it out in four years?" She just said, "NEXT!"
I've been talking to my husband about the chances of his company transferring him to another state... preferably before my current driver's license expires.
--Sandee Wagner
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