One of the e-newsletters I subscribe to went bonkers, sending us a screwed-up pitch for some other newsletter. I started writing this response to them, but I probably won't get a chance to finish it or send it in:
Dear [Newsletter,]
Please watch what you post! Ad copy such as that distributed on [date] with its logical fallacies and half-truths are an insult to the critical reader and a deception to anyone else who might be reading your letter. I refuse to be part of an organization that is willing to print trash just for the money. (Did you even read it??) Please "opt me out" now.
Sending this in would be the right thing to do, but I probably won't have time. Just going back to my inbox and figuring out who to send this to would take a couple of minutes that I'd rather spend writing in my blog, which is something I don't get to do enough as is.
Besides being fallacious, the advertisement concerns a very silly topic. They're trying to tell us that fiat currency is a ripoff and that eventually people will abandon it, with disastrous results. In reality, the disastrous results would start small the minute any one person decided to abandon the currency. You know what I mean? He'd be like, "This paper money is worthless. I won't buy groceries with it." And a minute later he'd be like, "Gee, I'm hungry. As much as I'd like to destroy the world economy, I think that will have to wait until after I've eaten as much as I care to in this life!"
I should remember to research the use of rototillers with cob. They say you should dance in cob to mix it up, but I'm really not willing to do that. I'd like to spend my energy more judiciously.
I have a friend in Pennsylvania... who's a rocker and a lawyer, and I'd love to pick his brain about fundraising. And then I should pick a banker's brain about escrow and accounting.
What I crave right now is... beans! I want beans, potatoes and broccoli. Yes, I did take my vitamins, and about 1800 nutritious calories besides. I had spaghetti, green beans, onions, oatmeal, chicken and chicken sausage, cheerios, cinnamon, nuts, apples, banana, whole wheat crackers and diet shakes. God has blessed me with most of the weight loss I sought -- only a few more pounds to go.
Working my to-do list at my mother's house is difficult. She dominates the environment and my time, invariably steering me into activities that I hadn't considered. Worse, my concentration is frequently challenged by the way she carries on. If you've seen my house you'll know I can't provide a better work environment than my mother can. But that's not the point. The point is, she can. All she would have to do is (1) write down the things she wants to talk about and ask what time I'm free to address the list with her (as opposed to piping up twice an hour;) and (2)suggest alternate activities in advance and in moderation.
I have a friend in Pennsylvania who is a builder. I don't think he reads my blog, but he does send me forwarded messages. Sometimes I look at one or another of them. I saw one title go by recently, something like "Orangutan and Dog." And I got to thinking what great mechanics Orangutans are rumored to be, and how they might make the ultimate "grease monkeys!" (No, I didn't read the message.)
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
Brain Dump
Praise God for such a gorgeous day. I kept busy all day because I didn't want to waste any of the day. (And also because I can't afford to get further behind in my workload!)
Unfortunately, I could not sidestep interruptions. Sometimes when I'm faced with a fillibuster I think, "Um, do you think you might make an appointment the next time you want to go on that long?" But it's hard to say it.
I took two cups of coffee today to try to sidestep depression. I tended to be tired today. That isn't good, and it isn't usual for me. Maybe I'm sick. I think my temperature was high tonight.
But praise God for such a gorgeous day. There was a zephyr and sunshine and flowers, dogs and a cat. And I do love my Mommy. I was with Mom today. I enjoyed that, taking the good with the inconvenient. Mom is very pretty and she was in a pleasant mood today.
My house is a mess. I should take out a life insurance policy on myself so that if anything does happen to me at least my sister can build us a new house. The old one was never really meant to be a house until I bought it. Now it's falling apart -- a non-conformig structure that I have no legal right to enhance significantly.
But that's not what I logged on for. No, I had lots of thoughts criss-crossing the brain today. I couldn't wait to write. What was that all about? ...
I was going to spin my plans like yarn. Why not? They're all just pipe dreams, just like the thought that people are actually reading this. Well, of course I had more that I wanted to write but, since that is what I remember, that is where I'll start.
I called the bakery today and was told to take a number. I was told that if I write snail mail to the private label fundraiing coordinator that would be tantamount to taking a number. Hopefully they will take my project and bake cookies for me to sell as a home-makeover fundraiser. And I'm thinking, wait. Shouldn't I do the fundraiser for that charity project first? And I'm thinking, how can I when my family's situation is so bad, particularly my sister's and mine. And I'm thinking, I don't have a clue. Every time I get a plan and lay out all the research I realize that it's not cost-effective to take up the research because there's no budget for the plan and no answers to all the important quesitions...
No, I can do the cookie thing for my house. Everybody's doin' it. That's why the bakery wants me to take a number. Oh, they might be in it to get a bus for their Church or a football stadium for their school; but they're doin' it and so can I. I'll get the Becky Bee book on how to build your own cob house like Henry VIII's newly landed friends at the start of the Reformation (er, right?) Only, I'll have a nicer toilet than the Seven Dwarfs'. (Remember the movie? Their sink had a hand pump.)
Suppose in the first round, seven of us go about and each sell 100 boxes of cookies for a net profit of $5 each (as they are very fine and expensive cookies.) 700 x 5 = 3500. A natural DIY building project at my school was built with a budget of $3,500! I'd be on my way. I'd still have to slay the dragons of red tape but I'd have a plan and a reason to go for it. I'd have a fighting chance. I just know my boss would help. She's very nice. And my family and some friends in Annapolis. Some of these people really know how to sell things, and they know people who can spare a few bucks for cookies.
Tonight I looked at all kinds of weird housing options. I looked at used RV's and transit busses, rail cars, cob houses, temporary buildings, tents and yurts. I passed by the straw bale option because straw would invite the same problems I have now into my future.
I know I can do this, chaos permitting. I have pulled rabbits out of my hat before. Or more likely, God has allowed me to get away with some projects. I think that's a better way to look at it since I have no control over circumstances. What I've gotten away with is having been homeless without having destroyed my health, inventing a gadget and putting it on store shelves (however unprofitably,) winning an essay contest, putting a nice fix on the state's tax verification system, getting paid to have my pictures taken, placing in a general intelligence and math aptitude test to get a scholarship, getting a standing ovation for my music, and getting a job in an economy where people are dying to work. Now, why can't I give myself good odds on selling a few hundred boxes of gourmet cookies?
I'm out of time or I'd dump more brains on the page.
Unfortunately, I could not sidestep interruptions. Sometimes when I'm faced with a fillibuster I think, "Um, do you think you might make an appointment the next time you want to go on that long?" But it's hard to say it.
I took two cups of coffee today to try to sidestep depression. I tended to be tired today. That isn't good, and it isn't usual for me. Maybe I'm sick. I think my temperature was high tonight.
But praise God for such a gorgeous day. There was a zephyr and sunshine and flowers, dogs and a cat. And I do love my Mommy. I was with Mom today. I enjoyed that, taking the good with the inconvenient. Mom is very pretty and she was in a pleasant mood today.
My house is a mess. I should take out a life insurance policy on myself so that if anything does happen to me at least my sister can build us a new house. The old one was never really meant to be a house until I bought it. Now it's falling apart -- a non-conformig structure that I have no legal right to enhance significantly.
But that's not what I logged on for. No, I had lots of thoughts criss-crossing the brain today. I couldn't wait to write. What was that all about? ...
I was going to spin my plans like yarn. Why not? They're all just pipe dreams, just like the thought that people are actually reading this. Well, of course I had more that I wanted to write but, since that is what I remember, that is where I'll start.
I called the bakery today and was told to take a number. I was told that if I write snail mail to the private label fundraiing coordinator that would be tantamount to taking a number. Hopefully they will take my project and bake cookies for me to sell as a home-makeover fundraiser. And I'm thinking, wait. Shouldn't I do the fundraiser for that charity project first? And I'm thinking, how can I when my family's situation is so bad, particularly my sister's and mine. And I'm thinking, I don't have a clue. Every time I get a plan and lay out all the research I realize that it's not cost-effective to take up the research because there's no budget for the plan and no answers to all the important quesitions...
No, I can do the cookie thing for my house. Everybody's doin' it. That's why the bakery wants me to take a number. Oh, they might be in it to get a bus for their Church or a football stadium for their school; but they're doin' it and so can I. I'll get the Becky Bee book on how to build your own cob house like Henry VIII's newly landed friends at the start of the Reformation (er, right?) Only, I'll have a nicer toilet than the Seven Dwarfs'. (Remember the movie? Their sink had a hand pump.)
Suppose in the first round, seven of us go about and each sell 100 boxes of cookies for a net profit of $5 each (as they are very fine and expensive cookies.) 700 x 5 = 3500. A natural DIY building project at my school was built with a budget of $3,500! I'd be on my way. I'd still have to slay the dragons of red tape but I'd have a plan and a reason to go for it. I'd have a fighting chance. I just know my boss would help. She's very nice. And my family and some friends in Annapolis. Some of these people really know how to sell things, and they know people who can spare a few bucks for cookies.
Tonight I looked at all kinds of weird housing options. I looked at used RV's and transit busses, rail cars, cob houses, temporary buildings, tents and yurts. I passed by the straw bale option because straw would invite the same problems I have now into my future.
I know I can do this, chaos permitting. I have pulled rabbits out of my hat before. Or more likely, God has allowed me to get away with some projects. I think that's a better way to look at it since I have no control over circumstances. What I've gotten away with is having been homeless without having destroyed my health, inventing a gadget and putting it on store shelves (however unprofitably,) winning an essay contest, putting a nice fix on the state's tax verification system, getting paid to have my pictures taken, placing in a general intelligence and math aptitude test to get a scholarship, getting a standing ovation for my music, and getting a job in an economy where people are dying to work. Now, why can't I give myself good odds on selling a few hundred boxes of gourmet cookies?
I'm out of time or I'd dump more brains on the page.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
L'etat C'est Nous
Please try to understand the Catholic stance toward gays. We don't want to take your jobs away or kick you out of Church, and we believe in upholding your rights. But when it comes to a state-issued marriage license, suddenly the state is taking a stand. Suddenly the state is complicit in your actions, and l'etat c'est nous. So even though I disagree with what you're doing on a religious basis, if I vote to approve gay marriage, I become complicit, as much as if I agreed with it and encouraged you to do it! That's why I can't vote for it, even though I come out in defense of your rights in every other respect. I simply have no choice. Nobody seems to understand that, though. I saw a photograph of a guy at a protest wearing a sign that said something like "Tell Me How My Marriage Affects You," and now I have. I have one gay friend who endorses my stand, and others I haven't told of it for one reason or another. Well, if you're reading this, now you know. As a Catholic, I have no choice.
Praise God
I wrote this in a letter to a dear friend today:
Praise God for cats, for dogs, for birds and for baby sea turtles. I met a large, cute-looking grasshopper today and "shook hands" with it by gently stroking its left antenna. It remained standing there as if to say, "Well met." (But when I got back to gardening the grasshopper hopped away.) I do believe in telepathy. Once, at hippie camp, I was taking care of the baby and we picked an apple for him. When the child handed the apple to me I said, "You want me to have your apple?" and he might well have conveyed something to me telepathically at that point because, even though the baby said no words, suddenly I remembered what I wanted people to do to my apples when I was a baby -- I wanted them to bite the apple so that the skin would be broken and I could eat it. I think I said out loud, "Oh, you want me to start if for you!" So I bit it and handed it back and he happily ate it.
Praise God for cats, for dogs, for birds and for baby sea turtles. I met a large, cute-looking grasshopper today and "shook hands" with it by gently stroking its left antenna. It remained standing there as if to say, "Well met." (But when I got back to gardening the grasshopper hopped away.) I do believe in telepathy. Once, at hippie camp, I was taking care of the baby and we picked an apple for him. When the child handed the apple to me I said, "You want me to have your apple?" and he might well have conveyed something to me telepathically at that point because, even though the baby said no words, suddenly I remembered what I wanted people to do to my apples when I was a baby -- I wanted them to bite the apple so that the skin would be broken and I could eat it. I think I said out loud, "Oh, you want me to start if for you!" So I bit it and handed it back and he happily ate it.
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