Stopping the Nonsense

Retailers:  can we please just make life easier and stop all these stupid rewards/loyalty programs?  The ones I'm talking about are the stores that won't give you discounts unless you have one of their rewards or loyalty cards.  Everybody does it, from grocery stores to pet stores, from bookstores to hardware stores, from shoe stores to sandwich shops.  Either you get a discount at the register, or you accumulate points and they mail you a rewards check.  On some cards, you accumulate points toward air miles or get a discount on gasoline.   

I hate these things.  They take up room in my purse.  I have 12 of them in a little plastic pouch that I carry in a pocket of my purse, for easy access. (That's a picture of my rewards cards, above)  Most of these cards are free, but you are asked to give your phone number and other personal info when you sign up.  That way, if you're at the register and forgot your rewards card, you can just tell the cashier your phone number, while everyone else in line hears you giving out your unlisted number.

Why not just mark down the retail items for everyone, and do away with the rewards programs? Why must we add yet one more point of inconvenience to our already busy lives?  Well, one reason why is that retailers can track your purchasing habits with these cards.  The cards help them accumulate demographics--where you live, how often you shop, which brand of soda pop you purchase, how much you spend on each trip, and even how old you are.  According to Wikipedia, these rewards programs "are structured marketing efforts that reward, and therefore encourage, loyal buying behavior — behavior which is potentially of benefit to the firm."

I realize demographics help retailers plan their futures, develop targeted marketing programs, and even issue coupons based on your buying habits.  But they're still a nuisance.  They are an invasion of privacy.  They clutter my life.  They annoy the living daylights out of me.

Advanced K9 Behavior

Yesterday, August 14, I graduated from the Advanced K9 Behavior course at the Kitsap Humane Society, where I volunteer as a dog trainer/dog walker and cat cuddler.  This advanced course is geared toward training problem dogs and turning them into model canine citizens. Sort of like charm school for dogs, if you will.  Dogs completing the K9 Charm School will be made available for adoption at a higher adoption fee, since they will be so well trained.  Part of the higher adoption fee will cover the cost of training the new owner, who will be required to take training along with their dog.  It's a win/win for both dog and new owner.

I'm part of a pilot program for this K9 Charm School.  It's exciting to see such wonderful programs going on at the humane society, and to know there are dedicated animal lovers willing to give of their free time to benefit the animals in the shelter.  There were 20 volunteers who graduated from this advanced class, and we will begin training select problem dogs next Saturday.  We're using the buddy system, as most training sessions will include the problem dog and a laid-back, non-combative dog, which will be the "target" dog when retraining dog-aggressive dogs (it's why we need 2 trainers--one to handle the aggressive dog and one to handle the target dog.)

When I signed on as a volunteer, I told myself I was NOT going to get carried away and volunteer for more work than my self-alotted volunteer hours per week, nor get roped into extra stuff.  So much for willpower.  I can see where this new program is going to add greatly to my volunteer hours, as well as my car mileage, so I have to be careful not to take on more than I can handle.  I'm feeling a little pressured to take on more, but will hold firm.  I can't really spend hours and hours on my feet because of significant arthritis in both feet, so that'll be a self-limiting thing.  

I used to show and train dogs about 35 years ago, and training sure has changed a lot since then!  And it's all for the good!

Dougie MacLean Visits the Word Wenches

On Monday, July 26, Susan King of the Word Wenches will interview Scottish music legend, Dougie MacLean. MacLean has a large following in the UK, Australia and the US. He performed "The Gael" from Last of the Mohicans and also "Caledonia." (I have the soundtrack from Last of the Mohicans and "The Gael" is one of my favorite pieces.)  Monday's interview will center on MacLean's deep interest in history, so he'll fit right in with the Wenches! Join us on Monday for a little bit about Celtic music and a lot about history!  Here's the link:  http://www.wordwenches.com/

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

So last night I was painting the house, and decided to knock off for the night, as it was getting dark.  I was quite high up on an extension ladder, painting the second story with a roller on an extension pole.  It felt like I was 40 stories up.  Descending a ladder from that height is an interesting proposition.  For one thing, ladders are built for tall people.  I'm short.  As I descend, I hang onto the ladder in a death grip and lower one leg, groping with the tip of my toe, certain I'll never be able to reach the next rung.  It's that way all the way down to the ground.  The gaps between rungs are not easy to navigate for a short person.

Since I live alone and I know that accidents can happen, I take my phone with me.  It's not a cell phone--just a cordless phone.  I figure if I fall, God forbid, I'll at least be able to call 9-1-1.  But I don't have pockets in my jeans, and besides, if I fell, I'd probably land on the phone and break it, so instead, I put the phone in a baggie and place it on the ground at the base of the ladder.  I figure if I fell, I'd be able to reach the phone and make my call.

So there I am, descending from the heights of an extension ladder, when suddenly my shoe gets caught and I can't move it.  What the . . .?  I look down, and of all things one of my shoelace had managed to impale itself on a tiny wire connected to the giant hook thingies that lock the extension part of the ladder in place.  I can't reach my shoe to unlace it, and the shoelace is thoroughly impaled (the wire went through the lace, like a safety pin).  I can't go up or down.  I can't wriggle the shoe enough to get the lace untrapped.  I can't even get my foot out of the shoe because just that morning, knowing I was going to be going up and down ladders, I laced my shoes nice and tight. 

I'm stuck.  And it's getting dark.  And my phone is on the ground.  And it's starting to rain.  Great.

But determination is my middle name.  Clinging to the ladder like a monkey, I wriggled and wriggled my foot and eventually managed to slip out of the shoe.  I then descended the ladder with one shoe on and one shoe off.  Now that was a painful experience!  A bare foot on a narrow rung just isn't fun.  However, once the shoe was eye level  where I could use my hands, I managed to work the shoe loose and take it down the rest of the way with me. 

I can hardly wait to find out what happens next time I climb up a ladder.

My Favorite Cartoon

I'm deep in the throes of house painting, so this will be a very short post just to let everyone know I'm still alive.  One of my favorite cartoons was sent to me by a friend years ago, and I believe (but not sure) that it is from the New Yorker magazine.  Alas, I can't read the signature of the cartoonist, but it may be Mort Gerberg, whose cartoons always make me laugh.  At least it looks somewhat like his signature.  He used to have cartoons in the New Yorker.  I Googled his name, but couldn't determine if it was his cartoon or not.  I hope the copyright gods will give me an "E" for effort.  I do care very much about protecting copyrights.

It makes me giggle every time I see it.  In years gone by, many fancy restaurant waiters began visiting tables with a pepper mill, asking if you wanted freshly ground pepper on your salad and such.  Over the years, the pepper mills these waiters brandished started getting larger and more preposterous.  I almost became afraid of saying, "No, I don't want any pepper," for fear the waiter would club me with his oversized pepper mill.  (Thankfully, I adore pepper and always said, "Yes!" when asked)

Without further ado, here is the cartoon in question.  I hope it gives you a giggle.  And if anyone knows who I should credit, please let me know so that I can give proper attribution.

Volunteering at the Humane Society

Last month I decided to become a volunteer at the Kitsap Humane Society.  I've gone through extensive training, and now I am a Dog Walker and Cat Cuddler.  Yes, those are official titles.  Walking those dogs is not an easy task. The dogs are so eager to get out and stretch their legs and go potty that they drag you everywhere.  My first time Dog Walking I could hardly move the next day.  But I'm getting better at it, especially now that I've learned to alternate the "pullers" with the easy-to-walk dogs (of which there are few).

I'm really impressed by the Kitsap H.S. objectives.  They care deeply for the dogs and cats in their care.  They do all in their power to rehabilitate "bad" dogs and turn them into good canine citizens.  They only euthanize animals that are so ill they cannot be cured, or if the dog is so vicious it cannot be trained. 

Many of their animals have been there for over a year, so these walks in the woods for the dogs and petting and lap time for the cats are the brightest spot in their day.  And we don't just walk the dogs.  We train them.  They invest a lot of time in making the dogs adoptable.  Almost all the training is done by volunteers who have gone through considerable training themselves.  I used to show dogs, so I have a background in dog training already.  But training methods have changed in the 30 years since I showed dogs. Everything is positive reinforcement.  No dogs are punished. It's remarkable how well the dogs respond to positive reinforcement.

Since 85% of the dogs at KHS are pit bulls or pit bull mixes, training is important.  They're one of the few humane societies in our area that accept pit bulls.  Other humane societies send us their pit bulls, and we live in an area with a high pit bull population, so training is doubly important for these dogs.  KPS has a Great Eight program, where dogs that have been there for more than 8 months have their adoption fee cut in half.  They also have asimilar Nine Lives program for their long-term cats.  In addition, these long-time residents get to go home with volunteers for short "vacations" so that they get a break from cage life. 

I'm feeling very good about the work I'm doing with KHS.  It's rewarding.  And everyone rejoices when a dog or cat gets adopted.  Now, if we could just educate the public on the importance of neutering and spaying, there wouldn't be a need for humane societies . . .

Blue Eye/Brown Eye

The other day I bought new eyeshadow.  It said it was for blue eyes, and it had 3 colors:  brown, gray/blue, and silver.  You're supposed to get all fancy and layer them artistically.  I don't.  I slap on one color, use eyeliner and a dash of mascara, and call it good. 

So what color would I use of the three?  Certainly not the silver.  That was for highlighting under the arch of the eyebrow.  Brown?  Perhaps.  To see, I did up one eye in brown.  But what about the gray?  I did up the other eye in the gray eyeshadow, which actually turned kind of a blue/gray once it was on my eyelid.  I couldn't decide which eyeshadow I liked best, so I decided to do some chores around the house and think about it.  And of course I promptly forgot I was wearing two starkly different colors on my eyes.

So naturally I went shopping like that.  Ran errands here and there, and it wasn't until I got home and happened to glance at myself in the bathroom mirror that I realized why people had been giving me odd looks.  I felt like a Siberian Husky with one brown eye and one blue.  I love getting old and senile.

Dressmaker's Dummy

I had a blast at my sister's yesterday!  After our Easter dinner, my sister Lori helped me make a dress-maker's dummy for myself.  The materials included 3 rolls of duct tape (2 silver and 1 white), plus an old T-shirt.  The process involved my donning the old T-shirt and then having Lori cover my torso in several layers of duct tape.  That's the piebald finished product above.  You can see the hemline of the T-shirt at the bottom.  You can't tell in the picture, but it's like wearing a body cast.  I could barely move, and I certainly couldn't bend at the waist or raise my arms. Oh, how we laughed as we applied layer upon layer of tape while my brother-in-law just shook his head.  And hot?  My gosh, I got so hot inside my duct tape prison that we had to finish the job outdoors on my sister's cold and breezy back deck.

I found the duct tape idea on the Internet when I was pricing dressmaker's dummies and discovered they were beyond my budget.  I printed out the instructions, and then Lori taped me from my neck down to upper thigh.  It took about 2 hours, and thank goodness I had enough presence of mind to visit the bathroom before we started!  Once finished, Lori used a sturdy pair of scissors to cut the back open along the spine, from neck to butt.  I carefully pulled the form off my body and was thrilled to see that it maintained my plump little dumpling shape.  *g*

I'd been fortunate enough to find the torso of a male mannequin at Goodwill the week before, so I bought it, figuring once I made my duct tape dummy and wriggled out of it, I could place it over the store mannequin torso, tape up the back, and then pad it out with wadded up paper and plastic bags.  It worked perfectly, and I'm amazed at how sturdy my new dressmaker's dummy is!  Now, instead of having to put on a garment dozens of times as I make it, then struggling back out of it without getting stuck by pins, I can use my new dressmaker's dummy!  And all it cost me was the price of a few rolls of duct tape  and a few hours of my time.  Here's the dummy after I stuffed it with tons of plastic bags and a few old towels. 

The Laws of Decency

This post is about people who say, "I hate rules."  (Often said in a superior, I'm so important I don't have to follow rules tone)  I'm a traditionalist, and I usually follow rules.  I believe most rules have a reason for being, and most often those reasons are based on sound concepts.  There are grammar and punctuation rules.  Traffic rules.  Mathematics rules.  Construction and architecture rules. And many more rules too numerous to mention.  These rules provide sound guidance.  They are there for our safety (construction architecture, traffic, instruction manuals), for clear communication and expression of ideas (grammar, punctuation), for calculation, accounting, inventory (mathematics) and so on.

Yes, many of our greatest advancements have been made because someone chose to ignore the rules and do it their way.  Humanitarian advancements have been made because someone ignored the rules and pushed for change.  Think women's right to vote, or Civil Rights.

But rules have their place, and those who whine about hating rules get no sympathy from me.  And in this case, I'm not talking about arbitrary or just plain stupid rules, and I'm not even talking about the above-mentioned rules.  I'm talking about the most basic social rules that govern our lives and how we interact with others.  In other words, decency.  Like not running a red light.  Like waiting your turn.  Like saying please and thank you.  Like showing up on time.  Like respecting the rights of others.  Like being honest.

I wonder what happened.  I wonder why kids growing up today seem to lack a conscience.  I wonder about their parents, who never taught them the basic principles of social conduct.  I wonder why 8-year-old boys are raping 7-year-old girls.  I wonder why 12-year-old kids gang up on a schoolmate and kill him because he's different.  I wonder why a 15-year-old girl suffocates her newborn and puts it in the dumpster.  I wonder why a group of 14-year-old boys kill an innocent jogger by stomping him to death.

I wonder. 

And I worry.

Life on the Fly

Stopping in at a dead run to say hi.  It's been crazy busy around here.  I had major furnace work done last week, and it wasn't cheap.  The plumbers were also out last week and fixed myriad plumbing problems.  That's my old-fashioned toilet on the left.  They had to rebuild it.  And below that is the other part of my bathroom.  Now the faucets no longer leak, nor the sinks, either.  Gone with the buckets under the sinks!

This week I've been crawling over electricians every time I turn around.  I guess it was worth it.  One of them said, "It's a miracle your house didn't burn down."  Now I can get rid of all the extension cords that my microwave, fridge, washing machine, lamps, etc. were plugged into because half the outlets in the house had quit working. 

I'm still washing dishes in the bathroom sink, which is a major pain, but it'll be a few more weeks before I can afford to have the septic people out to fix one of the septic systems so that my kitchen sink will be useable once again. 

No, that wasn't a typo.  Septic systems, as in two.  The people who built my house eons ago must have had plans to convert it into a two-family dwelling at one time.  Upstairs I have one septic system.  Downstairs, I have another.  It's a daylight basement that I converted to an apartment years ago, but quit renting it out when the septic system for the apartment began acting up.  Little did I know that the upstairs kitchen sink drained into the downstairs septic.  And when that failed, all that dirty dishwater began flooding the apartment downstairs.  I didn't know this, as I seldom go downstairs.  When I discovered the flooding, I was sick.  Brand new carpeting ruined.  Everything musty.  It's heartbreaking.

So Thursday I have a neighbor kid coming over to help me tear out the carpet and begin the process of drying out.  In the meantime, I'm up to my ears in work, and really can't spare the time for such nonsense. 

So to all 2 of my loyal followers, I may not be dropping in as much as I'd like to.  At least for the next month or so, while I deal with a gazillion old house issues.  Ahhhh, the joys of sinking my life's savings into a 100-year-old house!

Harbingers of Spring

The pussywillows have run their cycle and are at the ugly-fuzzy-yellow-pollen-almost-a-leaf stage.   The forsythia is in full yellow riot.  My quince bush is in the tight bud phase, ready to burst forth with myriad pink flowers.  And the lilacs are beginning to leaf out.

The crabgrass in the gravel driveway has begun to grow like the weed it is. The moss on trees and fenceposts has turned a violent green.  Trees are sending up suckers like shooting stars.  And the birds are getting noisier and noisier as the boys practice their rusty mating calls.  And the other day I saw a robin fly by with nest-building material in its mouth.

I am so ready for spring!  These signs of greenery and new life are glad tidings to my winter-weary heart!

Got an Itch?

I've finally discovered a way to wear a bra without suffering from the intense itching that usually occurs within minutes of donning said undergarment:  wear it inside out.  As I have long suspected, it is the thread or the material used to line the inside of the bra that causes the itching.  The itching annoys me so much that I quit wearing bras around the house 5 years ago.  Well, today I had to run errands, so I tried something new and turned the bra inside out.  Voila!  No more intense itching!  The only problem is, this works fine for bulky sweaters, sweatshirts, and blouses with a pattern, but if you wear a smooth, solid colored top, you can see the bra seams.

Why don't manufacturers get a clue? Skin is sensitive.  The smooth part of undergarments should go toward the skin, and the seams should be on the outside.  If the seams are likely to show through outer garments, then cover them!  But for heaven's sake, stop using scratchy thread and itchy lining and scratchy seams!

Cat Pictures

A couple of days ago I notice my cat, Christopher the Assassin, sitting on a tree stump in the yard.  I grabbed my camera and ran out to take a few pictures of him.  He has the prettiest green eyes, and they showed to perfection in the photos.  After the photo shoot, he came in and joined me at my desk, where he has a bed.  He likes to keep me company while I'm on the computer.  The first picture shows him just about ready to fall asleep.  The second picture is Christopher sitting on the tree stump. (If you click on the pictures, you'll get a larger image)

Can Spring Be Far Away?

There's pussywillows out there in the woods.  I just know it.  Spring is just around the corner.  And the pussywillows are out.

How do I know it?  Because of all the mewling in the trees.  It's not cats stuck up there.  It's pussywillows.  And that means spring isn't far off, despite what Punxsutawney Phil says.  Six more weeks of winter?  Bah!  Gimme some sunshine!

And pussywillows, which I adore. 

Calamity Jane Rides Again

Yesterday was not a good day.  I forgot that my 2009 Washington State business taxes were due today, so I raced around getting all my tax stuff together and completing the tedious paperwork--only to find out that I made so little money last year that the state said I don't even have to file a return! I don't know if I'm relieved or depressed.

Later that day I fixed my hair, as I had a meeting to go to. I grabbed what I thought was a can of hairspray to give my hair a good shellacking, only to discover I'd sprayed WD-40 on my hair instead of hairspray (the cans look similar). I'd used the WD-40 to grease up the shower curtain rod earlier, and it was still on the bathroom counter.

It was too late to wash my hair, so I splashed on some cologne, hoping to disguise the WD-40 smell, and jumped into the car and headed for Tacoma for the Adobe Users' Group meeting. When I got there, the building was dark and nobody was there. What the . . .?

That's when I realized the meeting wasn't until next Monday. I hadn't wanted to get all dressed up and go out on a dark and cold night in the first place, and then to realize I'd done it all for naught. Oh well. I wonder what tomorrow will bring?