weese's political stance

I will vote for anyone who immediately bans the use of, possession of,
or even knowledge of ...packing peanuts.



There should also be strict punishments for violators or those who unlawfully harbor such vile materials.

Like serious punishment... not spa time at the penitentiary with three squares and cable tv.

what would your super power be?

We were sitting around the table last night with Ferris and one of his friends enjoying a glass of Cabernet in the gloaming.
As often happens, the conversation drifted to what would you want your super power to be.

Ferris berated his friend, a petite flower of a girl - who thought being a fairy replete with pixie dust would be her choice. He said it was completely impractical.

Ferris wants to be able to turn his skin to steel - which he believes to be much more useful. Especially if say... there were zombies roaming around.
He also desires the ability to throw any object with precision accuracy and lethal force. Tho this he says is more of a practiced skill than an actual super power.

For my super power I chose a fast metabolism.

:)

patiently waiting

I just saw the street cleaners on the side road across the street.
That means they will come to my street soon.
I get very excited about the street cleaners.
Think about it... its like the biggest industrial vacuum ever.

Of course I ran right out there to sweep out the end of my driveway.
I mean hey... none of that sand and gravel out there is mine. The way I figure it is I bought those street cleaners with tax money.
It's the least they could do for me.

Foiled

Or should I say... foamed.

In an effort to save money without sacrificing the essentials, I ordered wine online.
I was pleased. I was saving money and someone was dropping it off on my porch. (and while I realize the consequences of the fossil fuel wasted to do this - the guy is driving right past my house every day regardless... so why not stop and bring us some wine while your out).

BUT -- what I was not prepared for, was the styrofoam.

They ship in styrofoam! I am sure this is a cost effective way for the company to safely transport its product -- but I simply cannot have this coming into the house on a regular basis.

Do you know how I feel about styrofoam??


This clearly isn't going to work out. And now we have even MORE styrofoam that I have no idea what to do with.

OO the horror!

Luckily, I have some wine to ease my suffering.

The Requirements

Since you all have advice on my new car selection - perhaps reviewing this list of requirements will help you make a choice.

• great mileage
  this is a top priority as my work commute has increased from 8 miles one way to 48.


• affordable
  this is definetly the second most important as we are still financing the education of our second and final child


• great resale value
  why throw money away


• nimble driving experience
  (see the first bullet)


• medium to dark interior color
  FREE dog is black - need I say more


• sedan
  yes, I want 4 doors


• and it must be cute
  this is of course my cuteness scale - which may differ from yours

Other nice-to-haves:

• MP3 connectivity


• interior seating designed to fit shorter, ever-so-slightly round people


• easy care exterior color


• well placed drivers side cup holder

aw hell ...while I am at it:

• heated seats (I have them now and love them)


• remote start

Time to shop.

It's that time again

I bought my last car on my lunch hour... this was not a normal weese-like behaviour. I am pretty sure it was some sort of mid-life crisis. Actually, now that I think of it - buying a 'used' car as a mid-life crisis is rather weese-y. It's all that crazyness tempered by a resonable price point.

This time however, I am considering a 'more recently assembled' car. And so it's taking longer. When I say longer I sorta mean l.o..n...g....e.....r.
I am not one to make spur of the moment decisions, I generally leave that to my spontaneous wife. At times, it seems, I am not one to be able to decide anything at all. I wonder if this has to do with sticker price... sounds like I may need to do some further research on my personal price breaking point. That dollar limit where I everything becomes fuzzy and I can't think.

And so I have been researching and driving and researching and downloading spreadsheets and making up my mind and changing my mind and then driving more cars often more than once and then coming home exhausted and downloading more spreadsheets.

Frankly, even I am getting sick of myself (this is where I mention again what a saint my patient wife is... and where she implores me to get someone to prescribe me some paxil).

I feel a decision coming on people...
Beware.

Access Denied!!

Apparently my company has decided to shore up our firewall.
No more blogging from work.
I can't access my blog, and I can't read yours.

Now, I admit to being a person of habit. For example, I just finished paying the bills tonight. I printed the confirmation page, took all the paper bills (I have some I have switched to electronic) and stapled them three times down the left side. They will be filed with last months and the month before that, and before that.
I do it this way every time.

I blog at work. In the morning I draft at lunch I post. I do it this way most times. I have to be a little flexible here as they are actually paying me to do something other than blogging. But generally, it gets done during my work day.

I am going to need some time to adjust people.

While I am adjusting here are a couple shots from our march on New Haven CT on Saturday.

Yet another way to make weese insane

Remember that joke from the 80's;

How do you make a programmer insane?
Have them follow the directions on a shampoo bottle*

Why o why would they make a cell phone shiny. Its bad enough cars are shiny.


But a phone? What's the point?
You have to touch the phone...
all the time...
its never going to be shiny.

this
will
drive
me
mad.

* in case you don't have a shampoo bottle handy
Directions:
lather, rinse, repeat

watts that you say

An update on the kill-o-watt research. Sorry no charts or graphs yet, but I am pressed for time to do a proper presentation. Someday I will quit my day job to do full time environmental research. I could start now if y’all wanted to make substantial donations - let me know, I take paypal.

I will tell you this so far...
Where the online calculator told me that our dinosaur-fridge cost us $152 a year to run - my figures show it to be only about $125.
That's still a whole-heck-of-a-lot more than the new model we want, which will bring the annual cost down to a little over 40 bucks. This alone makes me pretty happy with this little device.

During my research I have found one drawback of the meter is its two decimal limitation. When you're being billed at .000000 - more granular data would be helpful

This constraint could taint my findings on cell phone chargers. I had read that the chargers draw power even when there is no cell phone attached. Knowing the limitations of the device I left the charger plugged into the kill-o-watt for three days.
It still reported 0 watts used over all that time. While this still may not be completely accurate – can I consider its draw insignificant? Perhaps I need to leave it plugged in longer and add a projection calculation to my spreadsheet to be sure.

This is where we are so far. Maybe a pie chart next. Or maybe just some pie.

Contemplating my retirement

I take back roads on my morning commute to the office. As is often the case, this morning I was behind several big lumbering yellow school buses. They seem to stop every 100 feet these days - so I had alot of time to daydream.

I started to think that driving a school bus might be a great early retirement job for me. I see alot of women in their 50's and 60's driving their routes each morning.
I started to align my strengths with that of the rigors of transporting our youth.

I am an excellent driver with a clean record, and I am very cautious behind the wheel. So I've got that going for me.

But first - you have to be ok dealing with kids of all ages. I like kids well enough. I mean hell... I don't have to raise them, or pay their college tuition. Just keep them behaved well enough for the short jaunt to school. I think I could manage this. I am sure we could come to some compromise between utter chaos and feigned order.

Next, its an early day. Those high school kids need to drag their asses out of bed around 6am I think. Not a problem for weese. My early rising wife could easily give me a nudge out the door.

Finally, there's the schedule. Buses run by the minute. You've seen the printed list of bus stops in the paper - the start times listed as 7:04 for High School; then 7:52for Middle School; 8:33 Elementary School.
This requires stringent attention to detail.
weese excels at this.
weese loves detail and even better appreciates the need for timeliness.

I started to imagine... I would certainly need a new watch - maybe even a small clock that I could mount to the dashboard and set accurately to the correct time. I could practice my route and get it down to perfection even before the school year began. I would be ready. I would never be late.

Then I imagined picking up the kids. Those sleepy slow high school kids, sauntering down the street - while I kept a keen eye on my clock. I suppose I could make up some time in between runs. Surely the middle schoolers would be more peppy.

But then there's the little ones... gathering their strewn belongings because they'd gotten a little distracted waiting for me. Then the long good byes, kisses and waves to mom or dad. Also, of course it takes them longer to load on - their little legs straining on those tall steps. This might make me late. weese would not like to be late. I could see myself at first urging them on ... a little shout out while they are hugging their parents... then maybe a dismissive wave to mom to suggest - its over lets go, let's get crackin.

Then watching as they made their way across the street... now I am getting jittery. Of course, one of them will inevitably drop something, and as we are all taught in kindergarten we need to help - -so now the whole gaggle of them will be floundering about trying to collect themselves as a group and pick up items as they are dropped and fluttering about busstop. It's at this point that I can see myself leaping from by bus drivers seat out the door and begin to lift them one by one by the back of their collars and stuff them into the bus, shrieking and giggling.
I imagine I will have gotten them into such a silly tizzy at this point that I will need to manually plop them each into a seat before being able to resume our route.
A quick check of my new, set to Greenwich Mean Time -5, clock will tell me ... we are now in fact late...

Hmm, maybe I should consider bagging groceries.

hold me

Do you have nightmares? Ever wake up in the night confused and scared?
I rarely have nightmares. My dreams are usually pleasant and fun; often not rated for family audiences.
My dreams are also generally foggy when I awake, so I only remember small details of last nights bad dreams...

I remember having a feeling of disarray, I was wandering sort of aimlessly. It was as if I had no where to go and that I was all alone. I seem to recall there was destruction around me - perhaps some sort of natural disaster or war... I am unclear.
I don't think I was wounded but I was certainly feeling the affects of the dire situation. My legs felt rubbery and my heart heavy. I am certain my hair was a mess.
It was then that I realized I was carrying something.
I was carrying bulbs.
Light bulbs.
With horror it slowly dawned on me - they were halogen bulbs!!!

You do realize that touching a halogen bulb with your hands GREATLY reduces its bulb life.
Oh the horror of it...!

A load of laundry a day keeps... weese happy.

I used to do laundry everyday.
It was by choice.
I was never one of those people to wait and do several loads over the course of the weekend. I didn’t want my weekends filled with laundry.
One load each night(ok… maybe sometimes two and sometimes I would skip…).
Simple.
Wash/dry …then two minutes to fold and right upstairs to be put away and your done!

But I used to do laundry for more people.
These days we don’t have enough for a load every night. But old habits die hard.
So I had to chuckle last night as I was hanging my freshly laundered shirt… that I had just worn to work.

weese is waiting, anticipating.
foot tapping, fingers drumming.
she watches.
days pass. a week slips away.
they remain.
clinging, hopeful, indignant.
they mock her.
they taunt her.
weese is patient.
their time will come.
weese will be ready.
rake in hand.

Take cover

Do you have seasonal anxiety? Do you have valium? Please send me some if you do.
Welp, its fall – and here we go again.

Lets be clear. My anxiety is not caused by the shorter days where my body is jonesin’ for vitamin D filled sunshine. Nope, this is all about my to do list.

I get this way every year. So much to do, so little time. While some folks are changing their wardrobes over and putting on the flannel sheets, my resourceful wife is taking out my flannel straight jackets (one must be seasonal when wearing a straight jacket – try to imagine my fall collection in a traditional woodsmen’s red plaid, where my summer attire would be more like linen or even seersucker which is nice and cool when you have your arms wrapped around your back).

Since we have been busy for several weekends in a row – the tasks are piling up, and so are the leaves. I am getting more anxious by the day.
So finally we have a weekend to get some work done outside and wouldn’t you just know what’s coming tomorrow?

Yup. That’s right folks. Pull up your lawn chairs and mull some cider. We’ll be raking leaves in a hurricane.

We are nothing …if not good entertainment.

Ménage' toi

Tho the threesome is happening only in my head.
And it’s not hot and steamy.
It’s more like a bad game of Twister. There are three of us in here Vanity, Conscience and Sensibility. It’s like a weesey twist on Freud’s Id, Ego and Superego[1]. And while I consider Freud to be a genius, albeit a deranged genius… my three decided we needed our own definitions. Plus, we didn’t like all those freaky parental references.

What keeps usme from being committed is simply that often times we agree. We know our own strengths, and easily bend to the others area of authority. Sometimes we even work together in pairs.

Take for example getting dressed each morning. Vanity and Sensibility often work together on this to pick an outfit that is both attractive and suits the day’s activity. They are a good team. Let’s say I am feeling svelte one morning. Well then Sensibility will concede to any apparel decision Vanity may arrive at. But let’s just say I’ve had chocolate cake and beer all weekend - Vanity sits quietly while we select something a bit more blousy.
One can argue that in such a case Sensibility is really being vain in trying to cover up any weekend indiscretion in diet, so perhaps it’s not really all Sensibilities decision… and thus arguing may ensue. The decision usually stands, but someone needs to get credit.
Of course it doesn’t end there. What if something goes wrong? Such as when Vanity selects white shorts for a picnic and then there is a spill – well doncha know Conscience steps in to point the finger every time…

So here we are, we three – riding around on the tractor this weekend. And boy was there a raucous lawn discussion going on. Each had such a good point that we actually left it at a stand still and went inside to watch football instead.
Here is our dilemma. Vanity wants to fertilize. In fact, it was Vanities decision to get the fertilizer without the weed-killer so that we could over apply thus achieving a better greening effect.
Sensibility, on the other hand, wants to stop spending all this money on the lawn.
And Conscience knows that if we decided not to fertilize we may later regret this decision.
Conscience also knows there is a possibility of regretting the money spent as well. So you see – our tie breaker Conscience is not helping at all.

Which is why we decided to go in and watch football – where immediately Vanity wanted a beer and Conscience had to remind Vanity, yet again, about the repercussions of beer drinking on our diet… when Sensibility steps in and has the audacity to say she wants a piece of bread – BREAD the other two scream… you must be joking!

It’s a wonder I get anything done at all really.

[1] Id
In Psychoanalytical theory, the part of the personality which contains our primitive impulses such as sex, anger, and hunger. The id doesn't care about reality, about the needs of anyone else, only its own satisfaction.
Ego
The part of the personality which maintains a balance between our impulses (id) and our conscience (superego). The ego is based on the reality principle. The ego understands that other people have needs and desires and that sometimes being impulsive or selfish can hurt us in the long run.
Superego
The Superego is the moral part of us and develops due to the moral and ethical restraints placed on us by our caregivers. Many equate the superego with the conscience as it dictates our belief of right and wrong.

Just when you thought...

We have spoken of my spring anxiety...and of my looooong list of things to do.
Well - just when you thought you had a plan to get things under control and get some stuff done... the Universe - it plays with us.

This morning... while doing nothing more than squatting down to get something off a low shelf - it seems I may have torn my meniscus (this is evidently the cartilage in my knee). This is not a definitive diagnosis yet. There are tests to be done, results to review, and treatments to discuss.
In the meantime - there are crutches and pain meds.
weese is
out
of
commission.

And let me just say how amazingly blessed I am to have a son strong enough to lift me.
If he hadn't been home I can just imagine I would have had to call 911 for them to get me out of the basement. And since one of the projects underway was cleaning the basement, there was no way I was letting any EMT's down there without straitening up a bit. And since standing was impossible... we would have had a serious problem here.

To Blave

weese can be anxious at times.
Anxiety often comes to weese in the spring. The spring brings many things to do which must be done in a timely manner. The list is daunting to weese. Add to these spring things – Ferris arriving home for summer break with three times as much laundry as he left with, and discourse where weese works…and you have one weese who really should be medicated.

Ah, but then there is weese’s most patient wife. She seems to sense the energy before even pulling into the driveway. She steels herself, and then walks into it. She speaks just a few words, waves her arms around a bit and this fretful weesy energy disperses all over the room seeping out the windows and doors. Then she gently sets weese off on a task, and calmly sorts through the loose ends.

This weese is blessed.

One of my first jobs as a teenage was at McDonald's. This was back in the 70’s – and McDonald's was not like it is today. There were high standards in our store. We were required to speak a certain way to customers, say certain things and present food in a specific manner.
• The bag must be folded neatly, away from the logo, three times and presented to the customer logo out.
• No customer should wait in line for more than 3 minutes.
• When addressing a customer you must always use: Sir, Mam, or Miss.
• After the order was taken you must always suggest to either up size or add on:
-- “Would you rather a large fries, sir.”
-- “Perhaps an apple pie with your order, Mam?”
We were actually tested on these standards by folks from corporate headquarters who would stand in line during lunch rush. They would note how we treated customers, the presentation of our food, and the timeliness of our service.

When there was down time we cleaned. The mangers would walk the front and check all the appliances and counters – they were to sparkle. You never stood idle. There was always something to prepare always something to wipe down.

Is it any wonder I thrived in this environment.
I do so love order and discipline. The army would really be a perfect choice for me… if it weren’t for all that fighting and killing and such.

I thought of my McD’s days this morning as I was dressing for work. But not the work itself… I was longing for a uniform. Granted, in the 70’s, we wore the most hideous of polyester outfits.
But conceptually …the idea appeals to me.

Get up, shower, toss on the uniform. Done.
No decisions.
What shirt will work with these pants, which socks and what shoes… what’s my mood, what’s the weather…

What I really want… is to wear a gi.


I don’t need variety. I just want to wear something that works.
Everyday.
Pure cotton, breathes well, roomy and comfortable, and good for the environment, washes up nicely, no ironing necessary. What is not to like.

I would have 3 or 4 plain ones (non bleached natural cotton)…and maybe one of these for nights out.

When they got old I would retire them to be gardening gi’s, or painting gi’s.

How simple my life would be, how tidy my closet would look.
.
.

a little snow

There is snow on the driveway.
Night before last it snowed a little bit.
It’s more than a dusting…but certainly less than an inch.
We didn’t clear it.
So… its still there.

It’s below 10 here this morning.
So … it’s not going anywhere right now.
No melting today.

My patient wife tells me it will be near 60° next week.
Which means the snow will go away.
In a week.
She tells me not to worry.
But she knows…
I am waiting.

I couldn’t help myself this morning so I just quickly swept off the walkway.
She just smiled.
I feel a little better now.
Tho, there is snow on the driveway.
.
.