Pick A Number
Hello World,
Happy February! This has been an eventful week, full of special occasions and auspicious events, such as that perennial favorite of media pundits, Groundhog Day. Of course, the Super Bowl was on Sunday, and by all accounts, a classic barn-burner sure to delight hard-core fans and casual viewers alike, not to mention, people who just show up for the food and famous commercials. By now, everyone realizes that today is Waitangi Day, and because of time zones, it already happened yesterday in New Zealand, and seems to be another year where it slipped by without incident, and apparently not even a single riot or explosion for old time's sake. I guess after 150 years of controversy, it's refreshing to see that things have finally settled down on that front at long last, at least until the organizers of the St. Patrick's Day Parade get their hands on it. Speaking of dates, we have Bill to thank for the following information from Wikipedia: [[ Although the Chinese calendar traditionally does not use continuously numbered years, its years are often numbered from the reign of Huangdi outside China. But at least three different years numbered 1 are now used by various scholars, making the year 2009 "Chinese Year" 4707, 4706, or 4646. ]] That being the case, I'd like to be the very first person to wish you a very Happy 4706, 4707 or 4746, and long may she wave. I realize all of those dates may sound confusing, but I can top that without even trying. At work, our date stamper has a mechanical gear that automatically changes the time and date, but has no feature for changing over to a new month, which must be done manually. That is to say, first a person has to remember to do this on the first of the month, and then they have to do it manually. In our office, the idiot responsible for this function is not to be relied on for even the simplest things, the poor dear, who for pity's sake shall remain nameless, but looks suspiciously like me. It was not until Thursday that this oversight was rectified, and by then, all of the incoming mail was being date stamped as January 35, 2009. So when I tell you that I have no idea what day it is, believe me, that's not just a lot of Hong Kong Bok Choy.
Alert readers may still be on tenterhooks from the cliff-hanger in my previous note, about the ill-fated purchase requisition that was so important that it had to be hand-delivered to Purchasing, only to fall behind the radiator in my office, a victim of gravity run amok. On Monday morning, I did move everything out of the way, including the empty cardboard boxes, recycled printer cartridges and easel pads, got down on my hands and knees and pulled it out from behind the radiator using a wire coat hanger. Somewhere along the way, it had come apart from its sticky note that said how important it was, and since I hadn't really read it in the first place, I didn't know if the note said anything else that was important, so I had to dig that out separately, where it had gotten tangled up with some wires on the floor. Bill had said that he expected it would be the requisition for the black felt rectangles that turned out to be wall speakers, based on the theory that since the speakers were already in place and being used, it was important for the purchase requisition to be given to Purchasing long after the fact. What it actually turned out to be for was a bunch of office furniture for a department that just opened up a new office in the next building, which I believe used to be a closet, so you would think a couple of orange crates would be sufficient. Meanwhile, in the hospital's continuing efforts to drive us all crazy, I noticed when I was in the main building, that they've covered the black felt wall speakers with fabric panels that have flowers on them, so they blend in with the pictures that are still on the walls. Now when you walk down the halls, you can't tell that any of the pictures are really speakers, and you would have no idea where the sound is coming from. Next will be the subliminal messages, but I'm not worried. If their plan is to drive all of the employees crazy, I've got news for them, because I'm way ahead of them on this one.
In the "O Ye Of Little Faith" department, I'm happy to inform the scoffers and nay-sayers that I did in fact finally take down the Christmas tree at work for real, and pack away all of the decorations, even putting them away in their boxes on the top shelf of the closet, right where they belong. As for the tree and ornaments, it even made the trip back home, since as you recall, it was one of my old table-top trees that I didn't use anymore at the house, and because the old tree we had at work had just gotten too decrepit. I also rolled the cabinet that the tree stands on back into the closet, and folded up the holiday tablecloth nice and neat for next year. While I was at it, I hung back up the mini blinds from the broken back window, and put away the step ladder. Suddenly, my office seems a whole lot bigger, with all sorts of wide open spaces, like I should be planning to have a square dance in there pretty soon. I'm thinking of January 35th, so save the date.
Speaking of wide open spaces, for the first time in my life, I can be absolutely certain where the spies will be staying when I'm on vacation, because they'll be at my campsite. Now, I don't like to cast aspersions on good old C-35, because after being stuck one time in a crowded and noisy area, my parents drove out to Wildwood in the winter and took a long hard look at all of the campsites, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of each one. They finally found one they thought would be ideal, because it wasn't too close to the bathrooms or water fountains, it was on the quieter inside circle and had no campsites on either side, while the campsite behind it was so impractical that it was usually left empty except in the most extreme circumstances. So they reserved the same campsite every year, and it's the only one that I actually remember from years of camping, because the other ones before that, I was too young. I still stay at C-35 now for sentimental reasons, and that's a good enough reason for me.
Having said all that however, I feel obliged to point out that based on its merits, C-35 does not have a lot to recommend it. It is literally the farthest campsite that you can get from the beach, the bathrooms or the camp store. It is also farther than 75% of all of the campsites from the registration building, including the vending machines, telephones and the entrance in and out of the park. Because the Sections are designed with one-way streets, you have to drive completely around the inside circle to get there, because it's the last site at the end of the loop. The old wooden platform that was there in my youth has long since disintegrated, and because of the rocky slope, there is only one flat spot between the site and the one behind it, where you can actually pitch a tent. People on the corner site routinely walk through it as a shortcut, in spite of the fact that I put up a clothesline right in their way. In short, this is my idea of a campsite that only a mother could love, not to mention, one with very low standards.
So you can imagine my surprise when I went to reserve my campsites for July, only to find that the two sites that I reserve every year were already taken. The reservation system doesn't let you reserve a site too far in advance, so you have to wait until it's less than 8 months ahead, in order to make a reservation. This has never been a problem so far, and I wasn't expecting any different this time around. But when I put in the dates of my vacation, I found to my chagrin that I could have any campsite that I wanted in C Section, with the sole exception of three lonely spots out in the boondocks, of which two of them were the two sites that I always get. Obviously, it makes no sense for any normal campers to be staying at these three sites, because two of them are on a slope, and the third, which on the map may appear to be in a friendly conjunction with the other two, is actually all the way on the other side of the gully and up the hill from them. So the only logical explanation is that the spies got their reservations in before me, and snatched my sites out from under my nose, because there is no earthly reason that anyone would pick those three sites out of 250 campsites, and way early besides, when the rest of the campground is still wide open. I found out that changing my dates still didn't free up the sites I wanted, so I decided instead to jump across the road and take the two sites on the other corner, because at least I'm familiar enough with them to know what to expect, rather than going to another Section and perhaps getting stuck with a pig in a poke. So I'll be in a perfect position to keep my eyes on the spies from across the street, and since I've never seen a spy campsite with a clothesline, I'm actually looking forward to using it as a shortcut.
Of course, it does no good to complain about snow and cold weather in January in New York, but it does seem that we've been suffering from an excess of both all winter, and I don't mind saying, enough is enough already. I take pictures when it snows, and I have snow pictures from November 30, December 7, December 17, December 19, December 31, January 10, January 11, January 15, January 19 and January 28. Last week when we had flurries on the 31st, I was just about ready to trade in the Escort for a snowmobile and be done with it. Even all of the snow was not as bad as the frigid temperatures, dragging on day after day, with single digit readings overnight and wind chill below zero that is rare in this area, and twice as unwelcome, believe me. The way things were going, I said to Bill that if the temperature ever got up to 40 degrees, people would think it was a heat wave, and break out their shorts and tank tops. What happened instead was that the mercury finally edged over 35 for a couple of days, and by golly, the next sound you hear is the unmistakable buzz of houseflies in the living room. The amazing thing is, these are the ones that have survived millions of years of evolution to get to this point, so you can imagine how stupid the other ones were, that became extinct along the way. In fact, one of them applied for a job at the hospital, but I said only if he could start on January 35th.
Elle
Happy February! This has been an eventful week, full of special occasions and auspicious events, such as that perennial favorite of media pundits, Groundhog Day. Of course, the Super Bowl was on Sunday, and by all accounts, a classic barn-burner sure to delight hard-core fans and casual viewers alike, not to mention, people who just show up for the food and famous commercials. By now, everyone realizes that today is Waitangi Day, and because of time zones, it already happened yesterday in New Zealand, and seems to be another year where it slipped by without incident, and apparently not even a single riot or explosion for old time's sake. I guess after 150 years of controversy, it's refreshing to see that things have finally settled down on that front at long last, at least until the organizers of the St. Patrick's Day Parade get their hands on it. Speaking of dates, we have Bill to thank for the following information from Wikipedia: [[ Although the Chinese calendar traditionally does not use continuously numbered years, its years are often numbered from the reign of Huangdi outside China. But at least three different years numbered 1 are now used by various scholars, making the year 2009 "Chinese Year" 4707, 4706, or 4646. ]] That being the case, I'd like to be the very first person to wish you a very Happy 4706, 4707 or 4746, and long may she wave. I realize all of those dates may sound confusing, but I can top that without even trying. At work, our date stamper has a mechanical gear that automatically changes the time and date, but has no feature for changing over to a new month, which must be done manually. That is to say, first a person has to remember to do this on the first of the month, and then they have to do it manually. In our office, the idiot responsible for this function is not to be relied on for even the simplest things, the poor dear, who for pity's sake shall remain nameless, but looks suspiciously like me. It was not until Thursday that this oversight was rectified, and by then, all of the incoming mail was being date stamped as January 35, 2009. So when I tell you that I have no idea what day it is, believe me, that's not just a lot of Hong Kong Bok Choy.
Alert readers may still be on tenterhooks from the cliff-hanger in my previous note, about the ill-fated purchase requisition that was so important that it had to be hand-delivered to Purchasing, only to fall behind the radiator in my office, a victim of gravity run amok. On Monday morning, I did move everything out of the way, including the empty cardboard boxes, recycled printer cartridges and easel pads, got down on my hands and knees and pulled it out from behind the radiator using a wire coat hanger. Somewhere along the way, it had come apart from its sticky note that said how important it was, and since I hadn't really read it in the first place, I didn't know if the note said anything else that was important, so I had to dig that out separately, where it had gotten tangled up with some wires on the floor. Bill had said that he expected it would be the requisition for the black felt rectangles that turned out to be wall speakers, based on the theory that since the speakers were already in place and being used, it was important for the purchase requisition to be given to Purchasing long after the fact. What it actually turned out to be for was a bunch of office furniture for a department that just opened up a new office in the next building, which I believe used to be a closet, so you would think a couple of orange crates would be sufficient. Meanwhile, in the hospital's continuing efforts to drive us all crazy, I noticed when I was in the main building, that they've covered the black felt wall speakers with fabric panels that have flowers on them, so they blend in with the pictures that are still on the walls. Now when you walk down the halls, you can't tell that any of the pictures are really speakers, and you would have no idea where the sound is coming from. Next will be the subliminal messages, but I'm not worried. If their plan is to drive all of the employees crazy, I've got news for them, because I'm way ahead of them on this one.
In the "O Ye Of Little Faith" department, I'm happy to inform the scoffers and nay-sayers that I did in fact finally take down the Christmas tree at work for real, and pack away all of the decorations, even putting them away in their boxes on the top shelf of the closet, right where they belong. As for the tree and ornaments, it even made the trip back home, since as you recall, it was one of my old table-top trees that I didn't use anymore at the house, and because the old tree we had at work had just gotten too decrepit. I also rolled the cabinet that the tree stands on back into the closet, and folded up the holiday tablecloth nice and neat for next year. While I was at it, I hung back up the mini blinds from the broken back window, and put away the step ladder. Suddenly, my office seems a whole lot bigger, with all sorts of wide open spaces, like I should be planning to have a square dance in there pretty soon. I'm thinking of January 35th, so save the date.
Speaking of wide open spaces, for the first time in my life, I can be absolutely certain where the spies will be staying when I'm on vacation, because they'll be at my campsite. Now, I don't like to cast aspersions on good old C-35, because after being stuck one time in a crowded and noisy area, my parents drove out to Wildwood in the winter and took a long hard look at all of the campsites, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of each one. They finally found one they thought would be ideal, because it wasn't too close to the bathrooms or water fountains, it was on the quieter inside circle and had no campsites on either side, while the campsite behind it was so impractical that it was usually left empty except in the most extreme circumstances. So they reserved the same campsite every year, and it's the only one that I actually remember from years of camping, because the other ones before that, I was too young. I still stay at C-35 now for sentimental reasons, and that's a good enough reason for me.
Having said all that however, I feel obliged to point out that based on its merits, C-35 does not have a lot to recommend it. It is literally the farthest campsite that you can get from the beach, the bathrooms or the camp store. It is also farther than 75% of all of the campsites from the registration building, including the vending machines, telephones and the entrance in and out of the park. Because the Sections are designed with one-way streets, you have to drive completely around the inside circle to get there, because it's the last site at the end of the loop. The old wooden platform that was there in my youth has long since disintegrated, and because of the rocky slope, there is only one flat spot between the site and the one behind it, where you can actually pitch a tent. People on the corner site routinely walk through it as a shortcut, in spite of the fact that I put up a clothesline right in their way. In short, this is my idea of a campsite that only a mother could love, not to mention, one with very low standards.
So you can imagine my surprise when I went to reserve my campsites for July, only to find that the two sites that I reserve every year were already taken. The reservation system doesn't let you reserve a site too far in advance, so you have to wait until it's less than 8 months ahead, in order to make a reservation. This has never been a problem so far, and I wasn't expecting any different this time around. But when I put in the dates of my vacation, I found to my chagrin that I could have any campsite that I wanted in C Section, with the sole exception of three lonely spots out in the boondocks, of which two of them were the two sites that I always get. Obviously, it makes no sense for any normal campers to be staying at these three sites, because two of them are on a slope, and the third, which on the map may appear to be in a friendly conjunction with the other two, is actually all the way on the other side of the gully and up the hill from them. So the only logical explanation is that the spies got their reservations in before me, and snatched my sites out from under my nose, because there is no earthly reason that anyone would pick those three sites out of 250 campsites, and way early besides, when the rest of the campground is still wide open. I found out that changing my dates still didn't free up the sites I wanted, so I decided instead to jump across the road and take the two sites on the other corner, because at least I'm familiar enough with them to know what to expect, rather than going to another Section and perhaps getting stuck with a pig in a poke. So I'll be in a perfect position to keep my eyes on the spies from across the street, and since I've never seen a spy campsite with a clothesline, I'm actually looking forward to using it as a shortcut.
Of course, it does no good to complain about snow and cold weather in January in New York, but it does seem that we've been suffering from an excess of both all winter, and I don't mind saying, enough is enough already. I take pictures when it snows, and I have snow pictures from November 30, December 7, December 17, December 19, December 31, January 10, January 11, January 15, January 19 and January 28. Last week when we had flurries on the 31st, I was just about ready to trade in the Escort for a snowmobile and be done with it. Even all of the snow was not as bad as the frigid temperatures, dragging on day after day, with single digit readings overnight and wind chill below zero that is rare in this area, and twice as unwelcome, believe me. The way things were going, I said to Bill that if the temperature ever got up to 40 degrees, people would think it was a heat wave, and break out their shorts and tank tops. What happened instead was that the mercury finally edged over 35 for a couple of days, and by golly, the next sound you hear is the unmistakable buzz of houseflies in the living room. The amazing thing is, these are the ones that have survived millions of years of evolution to get to this point, so you can imagine how stupid the other ones were, that became extinct along the way. In fact, one of them applied for a job at the hospital, but I said only if he could start on January 35th.
Elle
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:28 PM
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