10/06/2021

Our dog is snuggled up next to me right now. He’s been staying close ever since Saturday when we tried to cut his hair which I just realized makes this a shaggy dog story.* ** I always thought those were about something else. 

I’m not sure what traumas he went through before he came to us, but they left him terrified of scissors and clippers. Apparently, he had tried to self-soothe because the day after he arrived, he passed a pacifier. 

Before we started grooming, we had given him a (barely) safe dose of a tranquilizer. It did nothing to calm him, but it might have made him looser or more limber since he was able to wriggle out of our grasp even when we had wrapped him in a sheet. Maybe that was Houdini’s secret. Anyway, to show him there was nothing to be afraid of I got down on the floor with him and used my clippers to cut my hair. 

He stared at me and his eyes got wide, I assume. I couldn’t actually see his eyes, because, you know, fur. Eventually, we overcame his fear with peanut butter blandishments and the fact that he only weighs twelve pounds and there were three of us. 

He didn’t internalize, as we had hoped, that, “Resistance is futile,” but I do think he is trying to stay on my good side since if I’m willing to cut my own hair, what would I be willing to do to him?

*I looked it up: A lengthy shaggy dog story derives its humor from the fact that the joke-teller held the attention of the listener for no reason at all, as the end resolution is essentially meaningless

**It turns out I only tell shaggy dog stories, the difference from the classic form is that here at home least, I never get to finish a sentence so no one knows it.

Light It Up

 In Anchorage, we've had Municipal Light and Power since the dawn of time, at least the dawn of time recorded by electric clocks.

But recently, Chugach Electric purchased ML&P from the Municipality. I didn't understand how spending a billion dollars to complete a monopoly was going to make my bill go down or service go up, but I'm not an accountant or an electrician so I confess that I probably don't understand what makes this deal so wired.

My previous experience with Chugach Electric was a monthly visit to their office to ask them to PLEASE put the bill in my name so my former tenant would stop accusing me of refusing to change the bill. But that was like 40 years ago, so I assumed that they might have updated their billing department. Alas, just one more hope crushed in this cruel year.

The sale closed on October 30th, and today was the first day that they would accept payments from former ML&P customers, even customers like me that had auto-pay. They welcomed me to the fold today with two emails that said my payment was overdue. Alright, Chugach, just like old times.

 We’ve moved up the road a few blocks and up the luxe level a few miles as we house sit for friends in Green Valley. They are avidly interested in birds. They’ve made their yard attractive to various species so they can have the viewing and sonic pleasure of an aviary without all the nets and cages. 

This morning, I had coffee on their patio and watched the sun rise. At precisely 6am the yard filled with birdsong and actual birds. So PRECISELY at six that it seemed like they had commuted in together to clock in on time. Except for the hummingbirds, overzealous little busybodies, who flitted in while it was still dark possibly to write up late arrivals. 

The other day, I refilled the suet early so I could show off the birds to my granddaughter via FaceTime. I felt some guilt that I might be exploiting the birds for my own purposes, but I rationalized it (rationalizing being my superpower) that it was all consensual and no one was harmed. 

Yesterday, this fellow showed up in the bird bath/reservoir. Earlier, I sensed some derision here when I posted a picture of a bobcat. So, to be clear, I’m not claiming this is a condor or a pterodactyl; I think it’s a hawk. For those of you with protractors and slide rules, I was about eighteen feet away and the birdbath is about forty-two inches high. It was 11:07am when I took the picture if you want to extrapolate from the shadows to imply something about the bird. I suppose you can infer what you will about me that I took your (bob)cattiness so deeply.

I recently read Radium Girls, a book about the young women of the early 20th Century who painted the numbers on glow-in-the-dark watch faces. At least they did until their technique of putting the brush in their mouths between each number led to their jaws and teeth rotting out of their heads and early deaths.
The business was really profitable, though. When the GOP talks about job-killing regulations, keep in mind that they are advocating instead for employee-killing regulations.

I recently lost my keys when they fell out of my pocket when I was bicycling. I probably would have found them with the Tile app, but a Good Samaritan picked them up. Eventually, when I went to put an ad in the paper, I saw the GS had already put an ad in that he’d found them. Joyful reunion, story over.
Except now, when I step outside my wife quizzes me about my keys like I’ve spent my life strewing them like a flower girl at a locksmith’s wedding.

Sleepy Time

Recently I had a birthday that caused my doctor to throw up his hands (why he'd swallowed them, I'll never know) and drop me as a patient. I think I've disguised which birthday sufficiently to stymie Russian hackers because, in my experience, Russians can't believe that Americans have an age at which doctors refuse to see them.
Anyway, my new doctor wanted me to get tested for sleep apnea because apparently, I fit the profile (lately, the only thing that fits) being old, fat, and sleepy. It took a couple of weeks to schedule, but, a few weeks ago, I brought the equipment home and taped it to my head and finger, thus ensuring a good night’s sleep. The next day, I returned the gear.
Yesterday, they called me back with the results. They told me that five to fifteen events per hour is considered moderate apnea. I’d had twenty-three, which they told me is extremely moderate. By the way, extremely moderate also describes my politics. He recommended an APAP machine to blow air into my lungs to keep me from asphyxiating under the weight of my palate and unfulfilled dreams. I told him that I’d tried one of those years ago, and it seemed to suck the air OUT of my lungs. Unless, I’d put it on backwards, I wasn’t interested in something that tried to suffocate me in the night. He told me that apnea is a risk for strokes and heart attacks. I didn’t mention it, but the fact that they’ve waited weeks to call me back with the potentially life-saving results indicates a certain callousness and a willingness to write some patients off.
We compromised by agreeing to try a dental appliance that slowly, over a period of months, will move my jaw forward. This supposedly will do something to make the apnea better. Now, I’m waiting for the dentist to call to schedule the appointment. Meanwhile, I try to sleep, knowing that, according to the sleep clinic, just closing my eyes carries a risk of dying. My biggest regret is that my mother didn’t live to see this transformation. When I was very young, she asked a dentist if it would be possible to break my jaw and move it forward a little bit to improve my weak chin. The dentist refused, so like a lot of weak chinned men, I’ve always had a beard and a legacy of disappointed parents.

I've written here before about "Austin from Texas," who calls every day to warn me that my Windows computer is compromised. For someone who must have lived in Texas for years by now, he still has an extremely thick Indian accent. I always tell him that he's wasting his time calling me because I'm not falling for his scam, and asking if his mother knows what he does for a living. Over the years, I've blown a police whistle into the phone, sworn at him, reasoned with him, and hung up on him. So, I'm saying we had a relationship.
Now, though, he's been replaced by a woman. No, that's not accurate. He's been replaced by a robot that SOUNDS like a woman. I avoid self-checkout, but how can I stand up for Austin's right to scam me in person?
Also, Melinda, Monica? (I can't remember her name, but I'm sure I'll be hearing from her again) used my number as her caller ID. I know I"m often forgetful, but I really do feel like I'd remember calling myself when my phone began to ring.  It was bad enough when they outsourced the scam to India as if our own criminals weren't up to the job, but I'm drawing the line at reading the spiel myself to save the scammers even more money.
And, as usual, while I was complaining about a robot calling to scam me, ANOTHER robot just called to tell me I'm about to be charged $399 for computer services if I don't give them my account number so they can cancel the charge. My wife wants me to get a job, but between calling Caremark to ask if just this once they'd consider sending her medicine to where we are instead of a town in PA we've never heard of and fending off robot attackers, I don't know when I'll even have time to get dressed.

Travis Holt recommended the comedian, Bill Burr. After watching a few minutes, I wrote this to Travis:
I started watching Walk Your Way Out. I had my shirt off so I was already feeling bad, but he did his rant about fat people and finished it up with, "Go be a postman." It was like he really knew me.

Apparently, while I was writing about watching a video, Facebook was watching me because ever since then they’ve been showing me ads for bras.

Have You Seen This Man?

I got a new driver's license today. I really liked my old photo. This new one is special in its own way. Not many people get to see what they'll look like right after they die from a stroke. It really looks like a photo from a Law and Order episode where they show the photo to a bartender and ask, "Did you serve this man last night? We found him dead in your parking lot this morning."

I posted some pictures on Facebook,  generously provided by Cathy Beeson, from the demonstration yesterday. You'd think it would be easy to post them here, too, but it's not. After I did, one of my friends asked how we would pay for all the things that Dunleavy vetoed. It turned out to be easy to post that here:

a big part of the problem (as I see it) is insisting on a large PFD. If we can’t afford to have a functioning university, Medicaid, help for seniors, or to make the promised payments to municipalities then we can’t afford a huge PFD. Another way to help pay for necessary programs is for Alaskans to pay an income tax. We sound like a bunch of entitled welfare recipients when we demand money FROM the government, but we’re not willing to help pay FOR government. Jay Hammond never supported eliminating the state income tax because he foresaw this. Thirdly, the state forgoes well over a billion dollars a year in tax credits for the oil companies.
Nationally, tax cuts for the wealthy have blown up the deficit. It’s a little disingenuous to then claim we can’t afford the nice things other countries have.

Facebook just reminded me that on this day two years ago I wrote my representatives. Weirdly, I just wrote them again today like it's a tradition. Today's: "It is infuriating that Mitch McConnell will not bring up the bill that has already passed the Senate unanimously and reopen the government. Especially since you all know that the wall is an expensive fantasy. It is past time that GOP Senators stand up to their leadership and demand the government reopen with no strings, and NO WALL, attached. Although I voted for Republicans for decades, I've never been more ashamed to be from a red state." I'm talking to you Lisa Murkowski and Senator Dan Sullivan

My project to convince my family that I'm not sliding into dementia was undermined when my wife got a call from the people that found my wallet yesterday.

I Also WAY Overpaid For a PopSocket For Karen

We returned to our Yuma cottage (it's still a cottage even if it has wheels, right?) the other night and found the door unlocked. This was surprising since I had a definite memory of thinking about locking the door when we left. Also, I didn't have my keys. At first confidently, then more and more frantically I looked for them. I ransacked our sheds and my sister's car that we had been driving. I checked the same pants pockets over and over again as if I might surprise the keys into revealing themselves. In the morning I found them in front of the car. They wouldn't say where they'd been or what they'd been up to.
As a responsible key owner, I didn't want them to be off by themselves and for me not to have a way to contact them. So I went to Target and bought a couple of Tiles. Two, because my wallet had traveled from Boston to Phoenix on its own and, granted, it had a passport, I was uncomfortable not knowing where it was for a couple of days. Since then, the keys have been hanging on a hook by the door. That makes them easy to find, although it means I have no reason to use my phone to find them which is a little disappointing. Even more disappointing, we were at Sam's Club yesterday and they had four Tiles for just over half what I paid for two. For what I paid, my keys should be lost four times as often. I may have to start just tossing them out of car windows and then coming back later to look for them.

We spent the day at the National Aquarium in Baltimore. They have a display called Jellyfish Invasion. As the planet warms, the GOP guts the EPA and encourages burning fossil fuels. We are being outcompeted by creatures that literally have no brains.

This post is rated U for ugh because of snot related content. People who find that kind of thing offensive should stop here unless you like being offended. In case you do like being offended, but don’t want to read a long post, let me just say right here, Baby It’s Cold Outside is a date rape song. 

When we first got to Boston, Karen and I were sick , then we got better, then Karen went to the doctor because she had a cold. I never go to the doctor for a cold, because what can they do? Also, because when I was very young, to facilitate draining, Dr. Whaley used to pop my eardrums with what seemed to be a knitting needle. That probably sounds painful, but actually it hurts more than you think. 

Last Monday, though, I was curious what new techniques might have been developed in the last 60 years to treat earaches. The answer is, none. They scoffed at my knitting needle story and prescribed an antibiotic for me. I doubt the efficacy of antibiotics and fear the damage they do to biomes, both micro and macro. But I wasn’t crazy about clutching my ear and sobbing either, so I filled the prescription and have been taking the pills. Also, Mucinex, Hall’s, lemon juice, yogurt and kefir for their PRO-biotics, and aspirin, so much aspirin. 

My ear doesn’t really hurt anymore, but my throat does. Which is a change, but not a nice one because I keep forgetting and swallowing and then remembering. Also, I am blowing out Christmas-colored mucous. The fact that my sinuses contain green mucous and fresh blood seemed to indicate I’m sick, but Sarah says it means I’m blowing too hard. I guess I don’t know my own strength. 

The other noticeable change is that my hearing is so compromised that it would probably have given up Czechoslovakia. Although I think it would draw the line at $5 billion for a border wall. Having a conversation is hard, so I told Sarah I was going back to bed even though I’ve always enjoyed my side of a chat more. Then I laughed which sort of proved my point. 

I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy

I didn't know that echocardiograms are in color now. Yesterday, my red, white, and blue one looked like a Fourth of July graphic, which seemed scary as I was watching it, but apparently just indicates my heart-felt patriotism since the doctor says I'm fine. He also said, that for 1% of men, the first symptom of a problem is sudden death. Which, since it's everybody's ideal death, is just another example of the privilege of the 1%.

Yesterday we went to an estate sale. Apparently, a hoarder in her nineties died and it's going to take weeks of sales to make a dent in her trove. Some people! Anyway, now we need to find a place to fit in all the stuff we bought.

Trying to figure out figure 1

Miriam, I’m installing a child seat in our car as Evelyn is coming to visit tomorrow. The manual refers to the car’s manual which refers back to the seat manual. Local firemen (firepeople) will do the installation, but it really seems like what we need here is someone familiar with the Talmudic tradition of comparing texts. Anyway, I finally grasp what you were trying to tell me about seat belts locking into place if you pull them out all the way. What you were describing is the ALR (no explanation given for what those letters mean) which only permits the seat belt to retract. I knew that was true since I almost strangled on the way home from Manchester by the Sea, but I didn’t know why. 

It’s a far cry from the days when we used to ride on the floor of Arlene J Mayfield’s parents’ Studebaker which didn’t have a back seat. We used to poke paper out through the holes in the floor, then stand up to look to see where it went. We turned out okay, except for maybe a tendency to type long posts instead of trying to figure out how to install this seat. 

The Family That Waves Signs Together, Helps Other Families Stay Together

Families belong together so we're going to the Park Strip on Saturday. See you there?
https://act.moveon.org/event/families-belong-together/20065/signup/?source=&s=

Democracy to Go, Going, Gone

Even as they put children in cages, suppress voting rights, destroy unions, remove access to clean water and health care and on and on, ad nauseam; I suppose we have to be nice to them in restaurants or else risk feeding their perception that they’re the ones being persecuted. Feed their bellies, not their delusions!

I Have A Dream

This morning I woke from a dream that I was dying of a neurological disease. It could have been sad and scary, but I was seeing it from the outside and in my dream, I was played by Tom Hanks.

Is One The Lonliest Number, Or The Best Number Ever?

We have a small kitchen and when we’re all in it at the same time I think, “I don’t want to live in North Korea, but, man, a Hermit Kingdom sounds amazing!”

Even Satan Can Quote The Bible

Wasn’t there a craze for elephant jokes maybe fifty years ago? Like, 

Q: “How do elephants hide?” 

A: “They paint their toenails red and climb into cherry trees.”

Q: “How did Tarzan die?”

A: “Picking cherries.”

So, WE  learned at an early age that cherry-picking is dangerous, a lesson that our attorney general seems to have missed. Because when he goes around quoting the Bible to justify putting children in camps, he’s ignoring verses like these from Matthew 25:

‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?  When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ 

 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

It's Father's Day, Hug 'em If You Gottem

Fathers Day is a family kind of day, so I wrote my Senators about a family values issue. You still can, too. Here's what I wrote: I wrote to you recently to ask you to do something to end the cruel practice of separating children from their parents at the border. At the time, I wasn't sure what you could do, but now there is a bill that you can support that does just that. It is disappointing, but not surprising given the events of the last few years, that not one Republican so far has supported it. The Keep Families Together Act was developed in consultation with child welfare experts to ensure the federal government is acting in the best interest of children. The bill is supported by the American Academy of Pediatrics, Kids In Need of Defense (KIND), Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights of Los Angeles (CHIRLA), Children’s Law Center, Young Center for Immigrant Rights and the Women's Refugee Commission. I am writing to you now to ask you to stand with families and the people that support family values by supporting this bill. Thank you.

It's a Hard Reign Gonna Fall

I listen to a podcast called, “In Our Time,” from the BBC. It features an eclectic, maybe even random, assortment of topics. They have had experts on to discuss protons and enzymes (two different shows) and the Civil War (both American and British.) The one I’m listening to now is called The Emancipation of the Serfs.” In 1861, Czar Alexander freed the serfs. That was two years before the USA, aka, Land of Liberty, freed the slaves. But, and it’s a but so big Sir Mix-a-Lot would date it, having freed them, he did nothing to allow them to make a living. The aristocrats continued to exploit them and in 1917 the population was desperate enough to bring their whole society crashing down. Probably, it’s a stretch to think that anything about private equity firms looting stores and throwing people out on the street could lead to a cataclysm, but when you watch the news, don’t we seem to already be, if not post, at least in a mid-apocalyptic period?
https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2018/07/toys-r-us-bankruptcy-private-equity/561758/