Hello Kitty

I was right yesterday when I said it was hot; we set a record for that date of 80°. Today it's like living in a chimney since it's still hot, but the air is full of smoke since this long stretch of sunny weather has led to fire danger levels of "Inferno". In fact, this afternoon there was a forest fire just a few blocks from here. Today I was tempted to cut off service to anyone who didn't have a sprinkler on their lawn.
I was wrong yesterday when I said I was clawed by a dog. Apparently there is a dangerous cat that lives in that condo. I'm just saying he must be like a saber-tooth cat. That claw looked like an antler. A few people pointed out that it would have to have been an unusually tall and thin dog to reach up and through the slot. I don't want to beat this to death but the cat is locked in the garage, while their pit bull is in the house.

Let The Change Begin With Me, Or At Least For Me

It's been unbelievably hot here. Last night as we were culling mail, one of the other carriers said, "I don't want to complain," I asked her, "Then what are you doing here?"
Today I was delivering mail on another route. I lifted up the flap on a mail slot (using the mail, and not my hand, as I was trained, to avoid being bitten by a dog) and a dog's claw shot out and punctured my hand. My thumb instantly began to swell. I looked like Sissy Hankshaw's mailman. I tried to call my supervisor, but my phone wasn't working. In a way, that was a relief, since I haven't been able to get any of Sarah Palin's tweets. I got the phone restarted, and told my supervisor I was heading to the walk-in clinic right next to the route I was delivering. She said she'd meet me there with the sheaf of forms they'd need to fill out. For some reason, though, they don't take federal comp claims.
They called ahead to a clinic just down the road a mile or so, and they did take federal comp claims, but when we got there with our file cabinet of papers, they said they took comp claims, but not hands. They did clean the blood off and then called across the street to another clinic who said, "Sure, send him over." There, they said that they didn't know who would have said that since they don't take federal comp claims. A doctor came wandering by, and said that it was his clinic, and he'd see me ( that was the only way he was going to get mail today since he lives on my route). But first he had to go get some lunch. The reception staff, said that he'd see me when he got back, but if what I wanted was a tetanus shot, I'd have to go somewhere else since they didn't stock vaccines.
Dejected, and abandoned at that point by my supervisor who had some reports to print out, I drove my mail truck to the hospital. By then the swelling had gone down, and the puncture was visible only with a microscope. The medical assistant pretended to clean the area I said was wounded, but I got a real tetanus shot and a bandaid.
Maybe it's time for no-fault health insurance reform.

A woman on my route said, "What a dorky hat," when she saw me the other day. She explained that by being direct, she avoided misunderstandings, which avoided hurt feelings, and thus she was a "peacemonger".
She asked about the postal holiday schedule, and I began to explain that I was working my day off, Thursday, because that was some people's holiday. That led me into explaining carrier's scheduling generally. Frankly, it was a bigger exposition than Chicago in 1915, and she pretended to fall asleep so as not to hurt my feelings.

The Dingo Days of Summer

I'm still trying to develop an Aussie swagger to go with my new sun bonnet, but the effort has been vitiated by my saying things like vitiate. I've said quotidian so many time of late that it's become an everyday thing.

What Did She Say? Just a Minute, and Then Another Minute, and Another Minute,

So, the other day, when I was styling down the street with the Aussie swagger of, I don't know, say, Kanga, I was sort of snickering to myself about the way Sarah misspoke recently. She said that as long as we lived in Alaska she could come up here for interminable trips, when she obviously meant innumerable trips.

I wore my new Aussie Sun Hat to deliver mail today. I figured it would give me an air of rugged Aussie panache like Russell Crowe, or Quigley down under. I'm afraid the effect was more like a margarine ad, or as one customer helpfully pointed out, a raisin box.

Health Care in Lake Woebegone

Congressman John Boehner said yesterday that if you like the Postal Service you'll like government run health care. Ouch. On the other hand, Congressman Rangel says the plan is to give everyone more than a fair shake.

Everything's Bigger in Alaska

I inadvertently walked by a mirror this morning, oh, the horror. It seems I may have developed one of those muffin top things. If so, it's like from a Costco muffin. Mmm, Costco muffins, I could go for a few a of those right now.

"Stop It, You're Freaking Me Out"~Jerry Seinfeld

Interesting facts according to posts on a real blog, Freakonomics:

States that have repealed mandatory helmet laws have experienced an uptick in the availability of transplant organs.

Health insurance companies hedge their bets by investing in tobacco companies.

While you are napping, eating or watching a movie on that flight to LAX, you should know the plane you are flying is cruising along at the ratty edge of its capabilities.

“We took a wrong turn when doctors stopped being doctors and became businessmen."

You Love The Red Sox, But Have They Ever Loved You Back?

I started to take what turned out to be an interminable Wired Magazine survey. Before I gave up, I had to give them some personal information such as the year I was born. Apparently according to Wired, I'm just too old to really matter since my year of birth was included in the "or before" tab.

Another Risky Medical Decision

Just going to the doctor can be risky:

Just Like Johnny B. Goode

I have had a couple of bicycle mishaps lately, but now I'm making the transition from the ridiculously dangerous to the merely ridiculous. I've been going for short rides after work. Even though Wayne, at WeBikeAlaska always says to never venture out on a bike without a spare tube and a pump, I've been thinking "I don't have to worry, because these are really short rides." Of course most accidents happen close to home (when I told my neighbor she should wear a helmet because most accidents happen close to home, she said we should live in a better neighborhood).
Yesterday in the Russian Jack Park, near Boniface, I heard a sound, "just like ringing a bell."
It turns out that's the sound made by a latex tube exploding. According to Google Maps
I carried my bike about 1.7 miles home.
Today, though, we rode to the top of Crooked Tree Street, which, again, according to Google Maps is 800 feet above sea level. That isn't that impressive, but half those 800 feet seem to come in the last 800 feet.

New Hires and Amnesiacs

We got a lecture the other day about productivity. I'm sure it would have been more effective if she had been talking to new hires or Tom Hanks.

The morning started well. I looked at the clock, it said 6:09 which would be the same if you spun it 180 degrees. I pictured it spinning lazily away and thought what a good time that would be to get up, but the spinning made me drowsy, so I dozed back off. I have my reasons for being sleepy, I guess, what with the sun blaring through the windows all night. In Greenland, suicides go up in the summer. The speculation is that people are just exhausted from lack of sleep. Living without darkness isn't all skittles and beer you know. There's also midnight golf.

As is so often the case nowadays, there was approximately no mail today. I suppose summer and the recession are partly to blame, but I think they're just accelerating trends as people move their communications away from paper and into electrons. I had time on my hands to chat as I went down the street. "My, you're early," I heard. I told people about the mail volumes. "We need more people to write letters. Go ahead, I can wait."

A slow day gave me time to ruminate. As they would almost have to, my thoughts turned to cud. I wonder if it tastes good to cows. I can't brush after every meal; I'd hate to have to eat after every meal, although if you look at my waistline, it looks like that's exactly what I do.

On the way back to the post office this afternoon, there were some kids standing in the middle of the street advertising a car wash, to support the Hemlock Society, I suppose.

By the way, if you're not sick of myself, check out Grammar Girl episode number 172.

I spent half the day wearing my bluetooth before I realized I didn't have my phone with me. I expected to have a clever thought about that, but no, it turns out I'm the kind of guy who wears a bluetooth headset without a phone.

"He's a Menace!"

The other day, one of my customers was out killing dandelions. I asked him if he didn't admire them for being plucky little survivors. Unfortunately, all people hear is the part about plucking. I bet Albert Schweitzer didn't have that kind of problem.
Also, I bet when he was trying to save the world, he didn't cause so many problems. Yesterday was the Anchorage Tour de Cure to raise money for diabetes research. I had signed up to ride the 100K route. At the starting point, the man said to gather around, so I gathered myself over there, and then stood around waiting for something to happen. Meanwhile, everyone else in the parking lot kept getting ready. The man said, "Go," and they went. I still had to pump up my tires, put on my shoes, and everything else you do to get ready to "Go!" By the time I "Went!" I was all alone in the parking lot with the sound of crickets playing in my head.
It was a beautiful day for a ride, or a run, or walk with a stroller or dogs, and the trails were busy. I was bustling along, but at about mile 27 I came around a corner doing about 20 miles per hour when I plowed right into a runner, lifting him off his feet and throwing him into the bushes I slammed into the asphalt, cracking my helmet. A lot of other things happened, and then the runner and I were alone again waiting for an ambulance to come and get him. Although I was wearing spandex bike shorts, it looked like I was wearing a pair of pulsating pants on my legs because of all the mosquitoes. It also looked like I had tied a wool sweater around my head. Luckily the mosquitoes were sucking up all the blood that might otherwise have attracted the two bears that had been reported near there. A lot of people went by while we waited, including two members of my so-called team. They asked if I was okay. I said I was because that's what guys say. As they rode away, I heard one say, "Was that David?" (there might have been a question because of the blue sweater). The other guy said, "Yeah, but he said he's okay."
The ambulance finally showed up, driving right down the trail. They had their flashing lights on. I guess they weren't sure if an enormous vehicle on a bike trail would draw enough attention. They put the runner in the back to assess him out of mosquito range. One of the EMT's asked if I was okay. I told him I wasn't sure. I'd hit my head and I had a headache. He said that they'd look at me next, and then they drove away.
I decided my Tour was finished, and started to ride back to Eagle River, 27 miles away. A few minutes later, a friend (my hero, Rich) called to see how the ride was going. I told him, and he met me and drove me back to get my car.
I called around trying to find out how the runner was, but HIPAA and human cussedness kept me from finding out. I did leave my name and phone number with the fire department who said they'd give it to the hospital, to give to him, but he hasn't called yet.
As usual, I'm fine, but Rich's friend's first comment when she heard about my accident was, "He's a menace."
I'm starting to think maybe she's right. I enjoy biking, but is it really fair to everybody else for me to keep on, leaving a wake of broken glass and ribs? I don't know.

"Just What You Want to Be, You'll Be In The End"~ Justin Hayward

Some people say that biology is destiny. I don't know if that's true, although I guess I'm more likely to eat a cow, than a cow is to eat me. Stratfor's take on the world is that geography is destiny. They seem to know what they're talking about, so even though I know astrology is fake, I still think it's possible to be born under a bad sign, like one that says "Welcome to Somalia"

Smiling Faces

My supervisor says I don't smile enough. I don't want to be like the Dutch Muslims that rioted because a cartoonist said they were violent, but I'm still irritated when she says it.
I heard on the radio the other day that one of my customers won a prestigious national award. I bet he's feeling all superior like he's a better math teacher than the rest of us.

Going For the Green, and Keeping It

There was an ad in the paper today for Bell's, a hoity-toity nursery where snooty people get their begonias. We rushed out to get ours, or maybe they were petunias, but they were sold out of the cheap ones, if they'd ever had them. Probably just as well, since I consider buying flowers akin to burying money in the ground, except, if you have a map, you might be able to get your greenbacks back.

You Know Who You Are

So, are you going to click on the link over there and join the Hardly Davidsons on the Tour de Cure or not?!

Man, I Hope He Has Measles

A family moved onto my route recently with a barking dog. They assured me that it was friendly. I never listen to people when they tell me that. As far as I'm concerned, that's like wind chimes, just an irritating noise to let you know that air is moving. One day the dog did get loose, and although he was clearly out of control, he didn't seem particularly aggressive. But today, there was a big orange sign that said "Animal Under Quarantine".

No Comment

Fine, no one comments on this blog, but at least I don't have these readers.

A Day in the Life

I received a package in the mail today from a friend in Seattle. I had stayed with him and his family earlier this month when I was down there. There was a pair of socks that I guess I must have left there. They had given me the socks in the first place, so as I think about it, I'm not sure if they are giving me socks again, or back.
Which is not at all what I meant to be talking about. The package also included The Cyclists Yellow Pages. There was a listing for trail maps of Anchorage that I had never seen before which includes slideshows of various local trails.
Here's the site, and here's the trail I ride the most since it's the closest to our house. Mile 3.67 in the slide show is where we get on from here, about 6 blocks from our house.
Incidentally, today might be known as the Day of the Long Noses. After 2008, the year without a summer, we've had weeks of warm clear days this spring. Today the mosquitos were out, out for blood.

I'm Typing as Fast as I Can

A seventy year long study of Harvard students shows that happiness and longevity depend on friendships. My friend was telling me the other day that he only had two friends, and I was thinking "What a braggart."
It's probably just as well that as a misanthrope I'm going to die earlier than I would have. It turns out if I don't, I'm going to have to age without the benefit of a skeleton. According to research I stumbled across looking for the story about those brainy ants, serotonin carries messages back and forth from people's intestines to their skeletons (those voices in your head may, in fact, be coming from your skull). An excess of serotonin (as may happen with the use of SSRI's like Zoloft) tells the skeleton to stop replacing itself with new bone. Which I suppose would be depressing if I wasn't taking Zoloft. Of course, if I wasn't then I wouldn't have to worry about it. My life, brought to you by Catch 22.

Natural Law

Ants are in the news again, for making good decisions with essentially no brains. I've had occasion recently to watch ants, and while they obviously have good publicists, what they need is a lawyer. Their behavior is indistinguishable from iRobot's Roomba. They appear to wander in circles, with strange stops and changes of direction. They're both attracted to filth, and they both inexplicably refuse to enter the bait traps I've set up. The Roomba, at least, doesn't wave its feelers disparagingly at me each time it goes by the trap.

Universally Remote

While I was waiting at a stop sign today, I was thinking about how marvelously complicated the world is. The trees are green here now, which is kind of amazing and how a doctor told us that Karen's, and I suppose everyone's, kidney has six different functions. And the brain itself, wow. How could all this arise spontaneously from nothing? But then I remembered reading recently that the brain was a kludge, just new stuff piled precariously on top of older stuff, so that we have a shark's olfactory lobes mixed with monkey reasoning. I think I read that, and didn't dream it, although I did dream last night that I was adrift inside a piano, but when a dog started barking at us, I realized we were close enough to get to shore, so you can see; the brain is mysterious.
Then I thought, if God didn't create the universe, where did it come from and why does it exist at all, and how could you describe, or even think about a universe in a state of non-existence?
So, anyway, the universe and I are expanding. I can get into my bike clothes only because they're spandex, but they make me look really bad, because, um, they're spandex.

Like Sheep to a Slaughter, Or At Least To An Intricately Planned Heist That Goes Wrong

On Thursday, my bike is going in for a follow-up visit after the accident. It appears it was slightly more scathed than it first appeared. The crank is bent, and a bike mechanic said that the frame might be bent as well. I've been so heavy that I'm afraid that it's not so much bent as swaybacked.

The punch line in Sally Forth today was, "People change, Hil. So do their medications."
Technology tries to keep up, though. When the internet was new, long before Netflix, there was a site that attempted to recommend movies based on your ratings of other movies. No matter what I rated, they always recommended Land Before Time IV. I was fascinated by the specificity of that. I'd never rated, or even seen, LBT 1-3, so why they would assume familiarity with the franchise? Anyway, time's marched on; I'm happily medicated, but Netflix must discern something seething underneath my placid, almost ovine, exterior. They've created a whole category of recommendations for me called Violent Crime Films.

Found and Lost

Yesterday, Karen found her missing bridge. Just a scant four thousand dollars too late to matter. This morning, I noticed (and this might explain why I was dropped from our Fireweed 200 team) that try as I might, I couldn't find my ribs.

He's Not Heavy, He's My Alter Ego

I'm reading a book, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. It's about an overweight nerd. The author drops a lot of references to overweight nerd literature, and I'm horrified to realize how many of them I recognize.

Schrödinger's Vet Bills

Last night, I was trying to explain the Schrödinger's Cat thought experiment to Leah. I got confused and started sputtering a little, especially when I got to the Many Worlds interpretation. All I know is, Schrödinger seems like a really irresponsible pet owner.

Today, Ellie had to go to the vet. She was dehydrated, like some anorexic rock star. She had to have an IV drip approximately $476.00 into her leg. Two weeks ago, Bernie had to have two IV's; they shaved his front legs like a poodle. Yesterday he had his stitches removed, and along with them, any chance of my retiring. I am heavily insured, so I'm starting to feel like Moses. I'll get a glimpse of the promised land, but only the next generation will get to go into my inheritance.

Apparently, I'm Right Again.

The data show that, judged by virtually every metric, the Portuguese decriminalization framework has been a resounding success. Within this success lie self-evident lessons that should guide drug policy debates around the world.

Do They Call It BlueTooth Because It Makes You Sad?

I got a call from a kind of new age vampire. They didn't kill me, they just sucked all of the serotonin out of my blood.
Anyway, whatever, this morning I'm thinking about those twits on Fox again. From the short, almost unintelligible, inhuman squeals, of the sound bites I hear, they're blaming unions for the state of the economy. Yes, that's right, union members with their CDO's and CDS's and multimillion dollar paychecks.

"Until this moment, Senator, I think I never really gauged your cruelty or your recklessness." When McCarthy tried to continue his attack, Welch angrily interrupted, "Let us not assassinate this lad further, senator. You have done enough. Have you no sense of decency?"

So, Were You Wearing a Helmet?

When people ask me if I was wearing a helmet when I was hit by a car a couple of weeks ago, I've been saying, "Duh".
Today I realized that would probably be my answer either way.
I went out this evening to put my new tires and tubes on my bike. Tomorrow I think I'll walk to work. That'll be easier than carrying the bike the work.

I ran into a former customer of mine recently. She was walking through the neighborhood with a hand held computer with GPS. The Census Bureau had hired her to work in a program to locate every address in America. The job ended earlier than expected because the computer was so much faster than the human workers they hired ten years ago for the last census. I suppose as humans become increasingly irrelevant to the economy, they will eventually just send out robots to count lap tops. Here's what I mean.
Here are a couple of other videos that you are supposed to have seen already "Unless You're a Loser or Old or Something".
Ok, Here it Goes and
Chad Vader

This Happened to Me, It Really Did

I was at Costco this afternoon. The young lady that was bagging up my groceries was talking to the cashier about training as a pugilist. She said that hitting the heavy bag was good practice, but her trainer told her that it was important to spar with people, too, so she'd know what it felt like to hit a human body.
Just then, she looked up at me and said, "Do you wanna box?"

I'm Back. Did You Miss Me?

I went to Seattle last Friday for a wake for my brother in law on Saturday. We laughed, we cried,we ate too much. I stayed on for a few extra days. I had a good time. I know I did because on the airplane ride home this morning, the button popped off my pants. Apparently, the cabin wasn't the only thing being pressurized.

Who You Going To Brag To About That

It's been sunny here, which means warm afternoons. Nights are cold, though. This morning I left early, thinking I could have a little ride before work. I had insufficiently bundled up and I ended up just riding straight to the post office. I went in the break room to hang out until we could start working, and the talk turned to what a colossal jerk Sean Hannity is. You know that guy on Fox News on the Sean Hannity show, nee Hannity and Colmes. Colmes apparently got tired of being cast as the Washington Generals.
Somebody said that Keith Olderman, of MSNBC had challenged Hannity about waterboarding to stop just talking, and walk the walk, or the plank, or something. I said that Keith Olderman was a jerk, too. The other guy said, "No, he's smart, you couldn't win an argument with him."
I said, "Big deal, I can't win an argument with my wife, either." For that matter, even the dogs are sort of intransigent about some things. Actually, the dog deserves a post of his own. We're about $2000 into dog health care since Monday. I don't want to get all into it, but for the health of your pancreas, the vet recommends changing your diet if you eat a lot of red meat and the neighbor's decomposing garbage.
Anyway, by the time I started delivering mail today, it had warmed up so I was wearing my uniform shorts. Now, for the purposes of this post, you'll have to imagine someone said, "Nice legs!" I turned my ankle daintily and looked down at them, "Oh, these old things?"
It was a beautiful day for a ride after work, but I didn't really have time for that. Especially after wasting so much time sitting on the curb shaking.

Always Wear Your Helmet

I had a pretty fun post scheduled for this afternoon. I was racing home to type it because I've got a lot to do before I go to Seattle on Friday. It was mostly driven (ha ha) out of my head when I was hit by a car on my bike. My bike is mostly fine according to the REI bike mechanic who sold it to me, who is a neighbor and also a witness to the accident. Apparently, like a lot of out of control bikers, I didn't signal and turned in front of a car. He slammed on his brakes, saving my life, but not his windshield which was destroyed. I'm fine, as far as I can tell.
If I remember the rest of the post, I may post it later.

Trivia Victory Was Within Reach

In fact, the winners were sitting at the next table.
Frustratingly, we knew the answer to the final, for the money, question, (Bob Fossse) but so did the people who had scored the highest tonight. They answered it correctly, and the pot, and our interest reset to near zero.

But Wait,

I first started having insomnia in the '50's. Back then, though, they just called it fussiness. Last night I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. Eventually, I turned on the TV. There is a lot of stuff for sale in the small hours to desperate people.. A lot of wonderful stuff if you can believe their claims.
I'm not sure you can, however. That could just be cynicism brought on by the fact that we have been lied to a lot for a long time. WMD, hedge fund risks, Watergate, Monica-gate, whatever the next -gate was. Maybe President Clinton was giving us a glimpse at the truth when he speculated about the meaning of, "is". Maybe.
Anyway, things are not what we've been told and I'm beginning to think that The Matrix is a documentary.

Maybe I Should Read the Whole Article Before I Talk About It.

The headline in today's paper said that the bad economy Outside was starting to have a Ripple effect in Alaska. I think people are just making excuses; when times are hard here, people have always turned to Ripple.
Even though they sound related, I don't think there's a connection between that, and what I'm calling Liver's Remorse. According to the Atlantic, people not only procrastinate doing things they don't enjoy, they put off doing fun stuff, too. Then they regret not doing the work, and the play. At the end of the day, every day, they feel bad about the choices they made. They're saying that life is hard, and despair is the only option. Okay, I made up that last part. Sorry.
The economy is bad. To stimulate it the government is spending money it doesn't have. A lot of it is imported from China. I imagine in the future, the Chinese will come to our capitol to see their capital. It could be a quick trip. Money is fungible, if you're in Washington, once you've seen the yuan, you can see the Mall.
Perhaps it's also related to the economy in Anchorage, or the budget legerdemain pulled by our new boy Senator before he rode his scooter out of town, but this year the Municipality has used the "melt in place" method of snow removal. Or maybe it's a spiritual thing, God put it there, let Him pick it up. So far, it appears he put it there for a Good reason.

Help Us... Oh, Never Mind

We continue to lose at trivia. The MC took pity on us last night; as we handed in the slip of paper with our answers, he told us, "That's wrong."
"Don't worry, we've got plenty more where that came from."

Racing to the Punch Line

I think I'm going to be on a relay team in the Fireweed. One member is faster than I am going up and down hills, and the other is faster going up. They're both faster on level ground, so basically I'm the team mascot. I just hope the big bobble head doesn't make it hard to breathe.

I just hope you thought that was funny, or funny and sad, because apparently "a successful joke implies insight, and insight, especially if it's pithy and self-explanatory, is the basic currency of a high-speed information economy."

Those Wacky Existentialists

On my route, there's a sign in a window. It's behind a curtain, so it can only be read from the outside. It says, "No Exit".
It made me feel like Sartre's mailman.*

*Je senti comme le facteur de Sartre.

Getting Mad, Then Going Mad

We were talking about rage killings. I don't get it. Who's got that kind of energy? I can barely sustain a sulk. Compared to beating someone for so long it's like smiling versus frowning; it just takes so much more effort.
Then they told me that Criminal Minds on CBS is sort of predictable because the suspect always turns out to be a white male between 25-40. So there you go, another opportunity squandered. By now, if I get involved with the police it will probably be because I'm getting very close to fitting the profile of a guy who shuffles off in his bedroom slippers and can't remember how to get home. Luckily, I don't have any bedroom slippers, but I'm just one ill-conceived Father's Day present away from dementia.
By the way, doesn't Dementia sound like a great name for a retirement home cover band?

I Train Year 'Round

Today one of my customers was complaining about the slow pace of breakup this year. "I know, I'm just so ready for winter to be over," I said.
"I've been irritated for months," she said.
"Beginner," I thought.

Easter morning scene. 2009

The Nexus Of Philology and Philately

If an envelope says "Do Not Bend" and we shred it, is there a moment during the shredding process where the paper is bent before tearing?
Do you know, by the way, that a working poet might receive as little as $15. for a poem?
That's why I didn't bother to ever submit this anywhere, I didn't want to be insulted, or offered too little money for it, but mostly I didn't want to be insulted.
You can send e-mail in instants
and it doesn't cost a dime.
It can cover a vast distance
in very little time.

So now even philatelists,
who love to see the postage,
have become real fatalists
using e-mail for the mostage.

So is there any reason
to use the Service Postal?
Is this their final season,
or at least almostal?

To us it isn't given
to pierce the future's veil.
You'll have to keep on livin'
to see how, "You've got mail."

I Do Know That Trivia Is From The Latin For Three Roads

At the junction of three roads, the Romans would build an inn. People meeting there would engage in small or "three road" talk. This is an example of the kind of knowledge rolling around in my head that is apparently too trivial for even a bar contest about trivia.

Oops, Not Subtle Enough

We had an election today here in Anchorage. Karen said the school district's budget is so large because when the Superintendent whines and complains, the current board buys her whatever she wants. "Man, I get that", I shouldn't have said.
Now I'm at a bar playing trivia with Leah. She brought me in as a ringer. It turns out the central feature of rings: empty space.

Don't Bother Looking Both Ways; You'll See This One Coming a Mile Away

Every day, he says, some of us get dressed, kiss our families goodbye, walk out the door and get run over by cement trucks.

I don't understand why a country that can convince us that they put a man on the moon can't find these cement trucks and stop them.
That reminds me of one of my favorite riddles from when I was a kid:
Mike: What's black and white and read all over and full of concrete?
Ike: I don't know, what?
Mike: A newspaper, I just put the concrete in to make it harder.

That reminds me of some other hoary old jokes.
Take the spoon out of the bowl.
You have a broken finger.
I'm smuggling wheelbarrows.
Don't be silly, I have three friends in the car.
And, finally, my mom's favorite joke, I don't care what it's been, I want to know what it is now.

Yesterday, I tried to think of a post that would be more interesting than "Look at me, look at me." I thought I was on to something at the end of the day when I launched into a pretty funny rant at work, but really, it was so jargon-filled and specific to the post office that I didn't think it would translate well.
Today, I decided to link to this. If you don't believe me when I talk about debt, maybe you'll believe somebody who fools people for a living.

Another Health Care Post

I know I've written about medicine and health care ad nauseam, but I just thought of that line.

Medicine You Can Shake a Stick At

All last fall I raged here about the poor health care Karen got while she was in (and out, and in) the hospital. Now, judging by the care Karen's friend isn't getting in a Las Vegas hospital, it appears Karen might have gotten the best care available in the Western world.
Maybe it's time to go back to the tried and true care our ancestors used.

What a Coincidence, Our Logo is an Eagle

I'm not trying to minimize how bad a bowler the president is, but we make the Special Olympics look like Mensa.
I was telling a co-worker today that our management's decisions have been so perverse lately that I was beginning to pick out things I wanted to buy during our going out of business liquidation sale. He said he thought that they could mismanage it, but that they wouldn't be able to kill it. He said "It's like the Eagle's song, 'They can stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast.'"
Very encouraging, I guess, although the line about checking out (you can never leave) made me skeptical about any early retirement plans.

Life Goes On

Saturday afternoon, Anchorage got a light dusting of ash from Mt. Redoubt. It wasn't enough to really cause any damage or even inconvenience (unless you were trying to fly in or out). It did make the snow look kind of dingy and used, but the snow often looks like that this time of year. This morning we had a few inches of new snow and the world looked bright again. I'm sure there's a sermon in there somewhere about joy coming in the morning, the quality of mercy (raining down from heaven) or that God's compassion is renewed every day. In any event, there's new snow and we can resume our sleigh ride into the open maw of whatever awaits us. As the Beatles put it so poignantly, "Ob-la-di, ob-la-da,"

This Is Just So Crazy It Might Work

Letting the patients run the asylum doesn't work because we have never really tried letting the patients run the asylum. When you think about it, the incentives in a normal mental institution are all wrong. Keeping the people crazy is job security for the staff.
But I didn't come here to talk about real asylums, I want to talk about figurative asylums. Have they ever done longitudinal studies of giving workers more latitude? Do employees who are trusted to make decisions make better decisions than managers who don't know how to do the job in the first place?
While mail volumes and revenues are declining, postal managers are focusing on rearranging Managed Service Points. If you think of the Postal Service as a giant ship that takes a while to change course, like, say, the Titanic, then you could think of the MSP's as deck chairs.

Going With the Floe, Visiting Youth in Asia

Coincidentally, I was just talking about this, with Sarah. She wanted to know why she was paying so much for Medicare. I told her that it was insurance for health care in old age, but that here in Anchorage, no doctors would see Medicare patients so it was essentially a euthanasia program for people on their 65th birthday. "Oh, like the Eskimos used to do with ice bergs," she said.
Yeah, except they didn't have to pay for the ice berg.

Psst, Buddy

In case of a projected ashfall on Anchorage, the postal service and the NALC supposedly set up a buddy system to quickly alert the carriers to return to the post office. I don't think they did, though because nobody signed up to be my buddy.

Stream of Consciousness Outlook, Moderate to Severe Turbidity

Apparently there was panic in the stores last night when the volcano erupted. It was like a scene from Alas Babylon. I slept through it.
When I woke up, the news was that the president had made another joke. Two weeks ago, the buzz was that he had to lighten up. Now that he has, he's making light of people's suffering. I'd say he couldn't catch a break, but he must have caught a few; he is president.
Today at the post office they had us defer mail in order to be on and off the streets without overtime. They said it was because of ashfall, but I don't believe them. If that was the concern, they'd have had us take all the mail since the ash wasn't supposed to (and didn't) hit here today. I think it's because we're hemorrhaging red ink, perhaps from the 11¢ airmail stamp.
Yesterday at Costco I realized yet another way I've squandered this life and ruined my chances in the one to come. They had a book on display called Replay. The protagonist keeps dying and being reborn as his 18 year old self. Because of his knowledge of sports and stocks, he's able to become fabulously wealthy. Since I can't remember who is the current world champion anything, better yet, the ones from 35 years ago. I'd be completely helpless trying to parlay my knowledge of the world since 1972 into a fortune. About like I did this time through.

Dance, Druid, Dance. Then You Can Take a Shower, or Brush Your Teeth.

Today, the first day of spring, was a day of extremes. Okay, not extreme like cage fighting, or anything, but still, it was only slightly above zero when I went to work this morning, but by this afternoon when I rode over to the pharmacy (for the third time for one prescription) it was a lovely spring day. Well, that might be an extreme way of putting it since the snow berms on the streets are still about 4 feet high and the yards are still completely covered in snow, but it was warmer.
Also today, the bathroom remodel is completed for all practical purposes. If you want to park a clown car, or something impractical you'll have to wait, and there's still a little trim work that will probably never be finished.

Living in the Land of Milk and Honey. Not Really.

I'm not sure we appreciate how lucky we are to live in a place where metaphors are just figures of speech. You're supposed to buy stocks when there's blood in the streets. Things, schools maybe, are "from hell", and situations are defused.
I was listening to a news story recently. An Afghan man was saying that Americans don't respect their culture or religion. Later in the story they interviewed a 12 year old boy who had been stopped from exploding his suicide vest, but still planned on killing himself to kill non-Muslims.
Okay, this post is a little on the nose, but I went for a nice ride on the bike trail after work today. It was really pretty and the trail was great, but it's not always easy to turn that into a grumbly post.

Everett Dirksen is Gone, Long Live Everett Dirksen

Everett Dirksen is widely believed to have said, "A billion here, a billion there, and pretty soon you're talking about real money." He probably never said exactly that, and of course, now it seems hopelessly thrifty.
Autres temps, autres moeurs.

A Blog of Biblical Proportions

A couple of weeks ago, we almost went to church for the first time in months, but Karen's tubing came apart, and there was blood everywhere, and by the time we got everything back together, the moment had passed. The dogs kept sniffing the bloody nightgown, and then eying us, as if they were they thinking, "Mmmm, that smells delicious, and there's probably more inside those two."

Last week was "Spring Forward, Miss Church," week. This morning, though, we made it, and it was a revelation, if you don't mind that little bit of churchy vocab. First there was a 15 minute skit, that included a flashback, but then, according to the pastor, the largest proportion of the Psalms is lamentations, which he defined as complaints. So, he's saying that this blog isn't just a series of disjointed grumbling, but an actual cri du coeur, a lament, if you will.
He put the structure of a lamentation on the overhead, and then invited the congregation to write their own with the paper he'd provided. We had to leave before we could do that. I don't want to complain, but Karen's pain was out of control. I don't want to complain, I want to lament.

This is True, My Daughter is a Beauty Ambassador

Emily Dickinson said in one of her poems that truth and beauty are the same thing. Of course, having said that, she starts right away talking about dying; man, what is her problem? She's like the first post-gothic goth poet. I bet she painted her nails black. Which, surprisingly, brings me back to my point, that beauty itself involves a lot of artifice. That being so, we shouldn't expect the stark truth to have stand there in it's nakedness.
So, this morning's post contained two true stories, but neither one was especially interesting as presented. Of course I gained weight. It's true, but after watching TV for fifty years, that's what we might have expected. You might have, anyway. I was shocked and disappointed.
A man lighting a cigarette and blowing up his house was dealt with far more interestingly in Sometimes a Great Notion by Ken Kesey. In his version the mailman is just pushing a letter through the slot as Leland decides not to kill himself and lights a cigarette. The house is destroyed, the mailman blown across the yard, and Leland and the letter miraculously survive. What timing, the letter invites him to come home. And he needs a new place to stay.

Health Updates

...and the results are in.
After paying close attention to my diet, and exercising this week, I gained three pounds.

Smoking Carries Health Risks

Fire department Battalion Chief Bridget Bushue said the explosion apparently occurred as the injured man was lighting a cigarette in the garage of the home in the 7700 block of Island Drive. Investigators later picked up a natural gas leak in the home.

Maybe It's Baby Fat

This week I've tried to go for at least a short bike ride every day after work. It occurred to me that if I didn't lose my Christmas weight pretty soon, it was just going to be weight.

Not Keeping It In Perspective, and Then, Keeping It in Perspective, and Then, Not Keeping It In Perspective

I was going to show you the formula that Wired Magazine says destroyed our economy, but it just got too complicated, which might have been the problem in the first place. From there, the plan was to segue into a discussion of a possible formula to use at work. Last summer, as you may remember, our routes were "adjusted", perhaps by a chiropractor on crack cocaine. Now they're all, "We eliminated 3 routes, we should be saving time, why's all this mail piling up?"
Anyhoo, I had planned to talk about irritations (almost infinite, and expanding) at work, and the chances that I'd ever get my route caught up (infinitesimal and shrinking) but when I got home, I found something that put it all in perspective. Ellie has lost her pink ball, which means the world to her...
Except the phone rang, I got up and walked around while I was talking and I found her ball, so yeah, good for her, the post office sucks.

I See I've Been Wasting My Time

Man, that's true, and it's been going on awhile. All is vanity. But the proximate cause of this post, is an e-mail I just got that without admitting it's a fake, starts out by saying "True or not..."
Here I've been laboring to make these posts plausible, and now it turns out, I needn't have bothered.
Don't order pizza before you read this, at least if you live on my route:
You have to take job satisfaction where you can find it. Starting with my day off on Saturday, the managers at our station have been deferring mail on my route to cap overtime. Today, for the first time in years, I've actually deferred more mail than I'm delivering. Yay, me.
I'd hoped job satisfaction would be more, um satisfying.

Of Course, If You're Really Old, There's Not That Much Future To Fear

As an old, old man, Trout would be asked by Dr. Thor Lembrig the Secretary-General of the United Nations, if he feared the future. He would give this reply:
"Mr. Secretary-General, it is the past which scares the bejesus out of me."~from Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut

I don't want to spoil anyone's fun, but I just don't think rape is entertaining. That makes it almost impossible to watch Criminal Minds on CBS, or at least it did this week. While Karen watched it, I went back and surfed around on the computer. iTunes (which I see now is impossible to start a sentence with) has a section called "Essentials". In that section besides genres, and artists, they also have the seminal tracks by year. In no time at all, I was back in junior high.

If Starship Troopers Wasn't the Worst Movie Ever Made, Then Easy Rider Might Have Been a Contender

It's so exciting to get a comment on this blog that I feel bad taking issue with it, but I don't think that The Atlantic writer was recommending communal living instead of home ownership. I think that the gulag and Easy Rider (such a smug, preachy movie that I'm sure the hippies on the commune choked on their own self satisfaction) should have put paid to that notion. Ananias and Sapphira are always with us. There is also evidence that a nation of homeowners has social benefits. Here's a link to a completely unbiased report put together by the REALTORs
Our own American version of communal wealth sharing is, of course, Social Security. Here I need to mention something blindingly obvious; normally the spotlight on this blog is focused so tightly on my self pity that ants standing nearby might burst into flame. But for just a moment I'm broadening the beam slightly to mention that my sister's husband of many years passed away this weekend after a long, painful wasting away. Leah saw them when she was in Seattle last month, and thought he was in good spirits and amazingly sharp, but finally, as something will be for all of us, the disease was too much.
Social Security's web site, or more likely, Social Security itself, is too complicated for the uninitiated to understand. It appears, though, that people that are sixty years old can collect a survivor benefit, but not until they have been sixty for at least a month. I'm not trying to arouse outrage here, or even change the system, but doesn't that seem like an awfully specific and puzzling requirement?

Put Down This Blog and Pick Up a Book

Oh great, now I'm not just celebrating fifty years of nation destroying home ownership, but apparently I'm also contributing to the death of literature:

The democracy of the new medium is a good thing, of course, but like our democratic society itself, the Internet tends to encourage amateurism and atomization. It is hard to see how a writer like Johnson could arise in a future when writing is something done casually, in brief blog bursts in one's spare time. And it may not be long before the kind of professional confidence and expertise that Johnson cultivated over a lifetime of paid work will appear as regrettably obsolete as books and newspapers themselves.-Adam Kirsch writing in Slate Magazine

Yesterday the builder brought by the shower door and the toilet. He didn't install them because he assumed I wasn't through painting.
It turns out, though, that once again we're doing and celebrating exactly the wrong thing. According to an article in the Atlantic, it's home ownership that has brought this country to its knees. Renters can more nimbly respond to economic changes, and high levels of home ownership have resulted in long commutes, a barren suburban culture, SUV's and pollution. All this could be remedied, the author says, if the government would eliminate tax preferences for home ownership. As it is, it almost never makes financial sense to buy anyway, according to this calculator.
All well and good, I suppose. I wasn't planning on selling this house until I retired and what with the whole country brought to its knees thing, I won't be doing that anytime soon.
In the meantime, I probably won't be getting an HDTV anytime soon, either. Karen and I were assaulted by the unavoidable display at Costco the other day. The guy on TV had acne, and it was pretty disgusting. NPR did a story about it today About the problem make-up artists have, not about how aggressively Costco is pushing TV's at us. They said that in the early days of television, they softened aging actresses crow's feet by putting gauze over the camera lens. Honestly, now they just need to put it on the actors' faces. This isn't a problem on our TV which basically just presents us with dialogue over a Rorschach test.

Cheddar is Also Orange

When considering a bad paint job, I don't want to minimize the importance of surface preparation. But a truly bad paint job will also include bad color choice, bad technique, and the forgetting to wipe up spills, or at least mine will, judging by the bathroom I just painted.
But then I went for a bike ride this afternoon, and noticed how God's sun spilled orange light onto the snow, and how it changed color as the sun set. I realized how ephemeral this life is, and how unimportant the paint in the bathroom is. And how cheesy this post would be.

Now I'm Just Killing Time, But Please Note, Not Myself

I should be back painting the bathroom, but I really, really hate painting, so now I'm just killing time. I applied for life insurance recently and was denied the best possible rate because I take Zoloft. So, if I was still jumpy and suicidal, no problem. But, serene and mellow: a higher risk. Wait, what? You're saying I'm not serene and mellow? Why you little....

Now It's Personal

We're grocery shopping while we wait for the primer to dry in the bathroom. They say that surface prep is 90% of a good paint job. I didn't do very much prepping so we'll see what percent it is of a bad job.
When we were at Costco they had a two sink vanity with a granite top for less than we paid for just our new top. Another way to look at it is that it's also cheaper than what we paid for just our new vanity. Karen always wanted the Costco one, but it's been out of stock for years; until we special ordered our new ones.
I get that the universe is taunting me, but why? And what do we make of a cosmos that's so childish? I mean that's not exactly Noel Coward. It's not even as clever as that old one about being afraid of Christmas, being a Noel coward.

Life's a Journey, Anway You Want It

I suppose life is a journey, although the only reason I mention it is that I was just at iTunes and I have a Journey song stuck in my head. Life's a journey, but you should be, here, now.
You should be here now, you could help me paint the bathroom. Karen and I are going to go buy the paint in a few minutes. She watches a lot of HGTV, so she knows which colors go together (and which ones won't go together even if it means missing the prom completely). It's a theoretical knowledge since she's color blind. I can recognize colors, but I don't like to play favorites. So, once again to Bob Dylan:

We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view,
Tangled up in blue

You Can See This

A couple of days ago I put up a post titled, "Too Bad You Can't See This". In an ironic twist, a few minutes later, I decided it wasn't even up to the low standards I've already set, and I took it back down. It's too bad, but you can't see it.
On Monday, we had a drain guy here to clean out our drains. It seemed like a good time to tackle the slow drains in the bathroom (we have two sinks there) that's being remodeled since the contractor called to say he was in Skwenta butchering a moose he'd just killed. The original sinks and vanities were gone, so there are just two stubs sticking out of the wall. They use the same model the Postal Service does, you pays your money and you takes your chances. He was here, and billed, for three hours, but his snake just went in the pipe for one sink and came peeking out the other. Apparently there was some kind of clog in the main line.

When Salsa is Illegal, Only Terrorists Will Have Salsa

Last night we joined our friends Rich and Barb at the Sahara restaurant. It features Middle Eastern foods such as "Nights in Beirut", a delicious dessert. Karen's meal came with a sauce so hot that I said that the if you enjoyed that, the only logical next step would be to strap on a dynamite vest.
Barb said, "A gateway salsa."

Today's the day we're not having a big party to celebrate moving into this house 50 years ago.
More later if I think of it.
Otherwise, Happy Valentine's Day.

Why Fly to Stockholm When You Can Be Held Hostage Right Here.

I'm going to take a break from my usual practice of complaining about the post office and doctors, and for a change I'm going to complain about airlines, specifically airlines flying to Alaska. Leah is traveling next week, and she wanted to buy a ticket. The airlines charge almost six times as much per mile for travel in the so-called continental US as for travel to and from Alaska. One possibility might be that jet fuel costs more up here, but that's not it since a state investigation found that Anchorage gas prices are the highest in the nation because the two refineries up here sell jet fuel below cost to be competitive and subsidize that by gouging Alaska drivers.
Maybe you think it's because it's more expensive to fly north because you're always going up, but then the return flight down the map should be free. I'm beginning to think it's because airlines are run by venal accountants who know exactly what our choices are.

Shooting Fish In A Barrel Would Be A Lot Harder If The Fish Had Guns

Our supervisor read us a letter today from the Postmaster about cost cutting occasioned by the recession and the associated, and unprecedented, drop in mail volume. While he read it, we stood in front of our new and worthless cases.

You Can Call Me Al

Even though I watched a video this afternoon that claimed that Muslims are all fanatics, and a rebuttal that essentially consisted of "Nuh uh, death to Israel", I just made reservations at a restaurant called Sahara. Who's intolerant now?

We're In Pretty Deep, Grab Your Shovel

Here's a link to a chart that shows how much things have changed in the last eight years. Americans used to save about 2.3% of their income, and were derided for their spendthrift ways. Now we save about .6% and we're told we're not spending enough.
(Extremely) gross federal debt was 58% of GDP and now it's 67.5%, and we're about to borrow another trillion dollars.
Even if I remodel all my bathrooms every day, and at my age, I really can't hold it that long, it would take, according to Google, a really long time to stimulate the economy enough to pay back all that borrowing. And do we want to live in a world with a bunch of testy old men grimacing and crossing their legs?

Do You Remember the Sub-Prime Mortgage Crisis?

I don't know nothin' bout nothin' at all.

Still, I thought our current economic crisis was brought about because so much money was loaned to so many people that had no chance of ever paying it back, and that this easy access to credit drove house prices up until the people that never could pay the money back, never did. I guess I don't understand how piling a trillion dollars (that's a 1, with a lot of zeroes after it)* more debt onto this (foreclosed) house of cards will make things better.

*A little research reveals that in America a trillion has twelve zeroes, but in hide-bound England which is much more leery about letting the noveau riche into society, a trillion has eighteen zeroes. Keep dreaming, Bill Gates

Patriotism is the Last Refuge of Spendthrifts

So, in the last six weeks, we've had to buy new snowtires and a new washing machine. Now we're putting small business men to work remodeling our bathroom. I can only do so much by myself, but based on our activity, the economy should be more than stimulated, it should be tingling. Chris Matthews would be thrilled to interview us.

Deconstructing American Idol

Yesterday it was cold and breezy. As the day went on, I gradually added layers of clothing including my no-fog face mask. By the end of the day, I looked like Darth Vader and the Michelin Man's love child. I was going around saying stuff like, "Luke, I'm your father...don't forget to rotate your tires." By the way, I know they're both men. I assume they would have met at the the Clone Bars.

According to new research, ignorance is bliss. People who are of average skill or above are fairly accurate at judging their own abilities. People with no skill lack the capacity to even know how bad they are. I don't know if this is related, but for one reason (or, pathetically more likely) another, I think this is a really cool blog.

Tiger Woods Doesn't Endorse Toilets

I've been in the market for a new toilet. Apparently the Maelstrom measure of toilets, or at least some toilets, is measured in ability to flush golf balls. I hate golf as much as the next man, and I've had my share of digestive upsets, but I'm not sure how relevant golf balls are to flushing. I know Oreck used to advertise that their vacuums could pick up a bowling ball. Their competitors said that was an irrelevant measure. Now, if you had a toilet that could flush bowling balls, then you'd have something.
We also just bought a new medicine cabinet. It's so plain that even Jane couldn't bring herself to use it.

Unrealized Promise Of Geothermal Energy

Even though we have a volcano perking away just 100 miles from here, the temperature remains near zero during the day.

There She (Doesn't) Blow

As you may have heard, one of our volcanoes is threatening to erupt. Since I work outside, I didn't want to get caught unawares, so I signed up for a Twitter feed from the volcano observatory. I think I'm going to disable it, though, since they update pretty regularly, even though nothing has changed. The take away message from the constant tweets is rising tension to "Quick, do nothing!"

Wake Up America

To secure life-saving vital organs, some physicians are pushing the boundaries of what constitutes death. The ramifications for the transplant system could be profound.

The news isn't quite as grim as that headline would make you believe, but I'm not planning on dozing off in any doctor's waiting rooms either.

Adam Smith Lives, In Moscow.

Vladimir Putin, of all people, is lecturing the West about following the failed policies of socialism. He may have a point. When Obama was running for president, he derided the idea of borrowing money from China and sending it to the Arabs to buy oil. At least when we did that, we got oil. Now it looks like our government is about to borrow almost a trillion dollars so that investment banks can continue to pay ridiculous bonuses and perks to the very people who destroyed the economy.
I went on a Gordon Lightfoot song buying binge this week. I'd sort of forgotten how depressing his lyrics are. Sample:

Sitting alone, my friends have all gone home
They never were around when I needed them.

Listening to the songs, and being depressed, of course, made me realize that depression itself might be my most loyal friend. Not a good friend, mind you, but certainly the one that's always around.

Adam Smith Lives, My Computer Dies

According to the headline in the Wall Street Journal, as home prices have plunged, sales are ticking back up. Whether it was credit default swaps, or no-proof-of-income loans, that drove prices up, the fundamental laws of supply and demand weren't repealed. When houses were unaffordable, people didn't, couldn't, buy them. If the prices come down, people will buy them.
Folks with an interest in a bail out plan may not want to hear this. The truth hurts, that's why they say it's hard to tell fact from friction.

My laptop has been turning itself off lately. I took it in to the shop to be looked at. They called back today to tell me it's terminal. That's what computer guys think is funny. Well, okay, they didn't really say that, but that's what I'd say if I was a computer repairman.

Daydream Believer

Karen's day surgery went off smoothly, and she's home resting comfortably. The only problem we ran into at the hospital came when we were ready to leave, and the nurses couldn't find Karen's coat; there was another Mrs. Hart having surgery there at the same time, and the coat was misfiled.
When they finally located the coat, the nurse said, "What a nightmare." I told her that after Karen's last trip to the hospital, that didn't even rise to the level of a daydream.

Formulary for Disaster

It's been awhile since I had something funny to say, May 7th by my estimation, so I'm back to complaining about health care insurance. My brother in law can't get the medicine his doctors say he needs because it's not in his pharmacy plan's formulary. I don't think the people paying for the drugs should be completely in charge of prescribing. It's like a system of balances and no checks.

Karen's day surgery is tomorrow. She isn't allowed to eat in the morning. I'm going to be supportive by not eating, either. Well, not where she can see me anyway.

Things to Do in Anchorage When Your (Cable is) Dead

The washing machine turned out to be more interesting to watch than I expected. There are sudden plot twists and pauses since every few seconds the drum reverses and spins the other way. Also, Karen is having day surgery next week, and last time she did that, we had no end of adventures, some of which she remembers.

I came home today and found the largest gas bill I'd ever seen. Then I realized that I must not have paid the bill last month. When I subtracted that amount: still the largest gas bill I had ever seen.
I checked my e-mail and a friend had sent me that one showing that the earth is tiny compared to Jupiter which is tiny compared to the sun, which is tiny compared to Antares. It was going to be tiny compared to Betelgeuse but I realized I didn't know how to spell Betelgeuse, although, look, my spell check did. Anyway, the point of his e-mail was to keep things in perspective.
Uh-huh, still the largest gas bill I've ever seen. And unless the Jovians are planning on paying for it, it's not clear what good all these pictures do.

Your Clothes Are Clean Mr. Mesmer.

They delivered our new washing machine today. It's a front loader with a glass door, so it really doesn't matter now if Dish ever gets around to fixing our service.

Wash Day

Back in the 1960's, we had a joke we thought was pretty funny about "civil rights" washing machines. They came with a black agitator inside. Now we have a new president and yesterday we bought a new washing machine. They don't even have agitators any more.
“The old order changeth, yielding place to new..."

Green Roku News

Do you remember I wrote once about a verdant uprising chronicled in a science fiction book from my youth? Well, of course you don't, but even if you did, the BBC has gone you one better. They made a mini-series of the Day of the Triffids, and it's on Roku. I'm only a third of the way through the series, but so far, unlike Starship Troopers, the worst movie ever, they paid some attention to the book.

Roku to the Rescue

We didn't even have to wait for February 17th to lose access to TV, our Dish dish blew off the house the first day of the chinook. I called the local provider about repairs. They told me that it would be cheaper if Dish scheduled it themselves, so they transferred me to Dish executive offices to spare me the phone tree maze. Dish denied doing repairs in Alaska, barely conceding that they even had customers up here. I called the local provider back, and back and forth. Eventually they said that they'd be out some time.
So far, we haven't really missed TV. We haven't even had to watch our Netflix DVD's that have been sitting around since October. We have been watching All Creatures Great and Small on the Roku. The longer the dish lays out in the yard, the more I'm thinking about letting it stay there. Karen has 70 hours of Design on a Dime on the DVR and we get our news from NPR and what's left of our newspaper. Roku isn't as good for that. Based on what we're watching, it appears that someone named Hitler is doing bad things to cows.

Whether It's Cold Or Whether It's Hot, You're Going to Have Weather, Whether or Not

and we're going to complain about it.
If I read the chart correctly, and there's no reason to think I did, then we've had fifty five inches of snow so far this year, and we have a snow depth of nine inches. Most of the melting has taken place since Tuesday and a small part of the run-off is in my basement. The rest of it is in my boots.

Are We Men or Are We Moose?

Moose are disappearing from the upper Midwest. The scientists say it's because of global warming, although that's what they always say when anything goes wrong. A few years ago it was Arabs.
Last week it was ridiculously cold here. We coped. Life went grumpily on. There was even talk of airlifting blankets to polar bears threatened by the growing ice sheet. Today, it was above freezing and the city was in chaos. Traffic was snarled, schools and offices were closed, mail on many routes went undelivered. It's as if the moose are running the asylum.

That's Not to Say That Stationary Rocks Are Necessarily Covered in Moss

I was talking to my sister last night. She's enduring a perfect storm of unfortunate circumstances, precipitated, as it were, by a perfect storm of weather. I told her that she should come up here because next month on her birthday, our house will have been in our family for fifty years. "We could have a little party," I said.
"We could have a big party," she said.
We could, I guess, if I had (m)any friends.
Anyway, you, at least, are invited.

Jack Handey Says It's Easy

It's easy to sit there and say you'd like to have more money. And I guess that's what I like about it. It's easy. Just sitting there, rocking back and forth, wanting that money.


Another easy thing, blaming the Jews for Hamas war crimes.

Going Where the Food is Hot

One of my customers told me she and her husband were going to New Orleans this week. Just hearing about a trip made me feel jaunt-y.
I've always wanted to go to New Orleans for the food. Probably I'd eat too much and then I'd roux it.

Or, You Could Step Outside For A Second

Brain cooling device developed.
The temperature here still remains well below zero. They were saying that tomorrow afternoon it should start to warm up, if you call zero warm, which we would, but now we won't, since they're now saying maybe Sunday, or maybe Easter Sunday, or maybe some other time when it's too late too matter after we all flee to Arizona or give up and start pushing daisies. Ha, we won't be able to push daisies. Why? Because it's too cold!
I do seem to be getting a little hot here, maybe my brain does need to be cooled.

Roll Over Gutenberg and Tell McClatchy the News

Dr. Egon Spengler: Print is dead.

The headline appeared in Ghostbusters back in 1984. Now it's being borne out right here in Anchorage where our local paper has been eliminating features and pages, preparatory to today's issue which eliminates whole sections. One feature being eliminated is Perfect World*, edited by a young lady on my route*,which allowed the youths of today to practice journalism. Of course, I've come full circle, when I was a youth of yesterday, I thought that young people had insights unavailable to the "older generation". Now that I am the older generation, I just think young people haven't had enough experience to know what they think, and I wish they'd turn down their music since it all sounds like the same song.
Anyway, print had a pretty good run from 1439 till now. Not as good as fire, maybe, but still, compare it to cuecat.

*A Perfect World is the title of a great Clint Eastwood movie which contains the line that deflates pretty much everything, "Who're you gonna brag to about that?"
**Just a way to get me in the story, not unlike the bear mauling that happened to someone I vaguely knew that took place when I was in another borough.

Why am I soft in the middle? The rest of my life is so hard~Paul Simon

You probably already knew that Paul Simon was a genius, but here's more proof. How can I have gotten so objectively flabby and soft in the last two weeks, and yet, by the time I finished work today, I was so painfully stiff.
Need more proof that Paul Simon is a genius? In that same song, Call Me Al, is the clearest explanation of most Christian's faith that you'll find:
If you'll be my bodyguard
I can be your long lost pal.

More Copying and Pasting

So, after reading the forecast, I was huddling near my computer for warmth. I'm reluctant to turn up the heat since Enstar welcomed in the new year by raising natural gas prices 22%, after a thirty-something percent rise last year.
I saw this. I knew from previous experiments in weight gain that Iowans aren't afraid of lard, but now it turns out that they're not afraid of salt, either, not even alone in dark alleys with it.
Roosevelt said we only had to fear fear, but I'm a little worried about going back to work on Monday after my unbridled affair with Doritos for the last couple of weeks. My soul delights in fatness, but my thighs somehow have to fit inside my uniform and I'm more like Jeshurun than I want to admit.

Copy/Paste Because It's Too Cold to Type

PUBLIC INFORMATION STATEMENT
NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE ANCHORAGE AK
530 AM AKST SAT JAN 3 2009

...LOWEST MINIMUM AND MAXIMUM TEMPERATURES THIS DECADE RECORDED
YESTERDAY IN ANCHORAGE...

THE OFFICIAL MINIMUM TEMPERATURE OF -16 DEGREES IN ANCHORAGE ON
JANUARY 2ND IS THE LOWEST RECORDED THIS DECADE. THE LAST TIME
ANCHORAGE WITNESSED A TEMPERATURE THIS LOW WAS FEBRUARY 8, 1999.
ADDITIONALLY, THE LOWEST DAILY MAXIMUM TEMPERATURE THIS DECADE ALSO
OCCURRED YESTERDAY WITH A HIGH OF -7 DEGREES OBSERVED AT THE NWS
OFFICE. THE LAST TIME ANCHORAGE OFFICIALLY WITNESSED A DAILY MAXIMUM
TEMPERATURE THIS LOW WAS FEBRUARY 4, 1999.

THE CITY OF ANCHORAGE HAS ALSO NOW FAILED TO OFFICIALLY REACH ZERO
DEGREES FOR FOUR STRAIGHT CALENDAR DAYS (DECEMBER 30TH - JANUARY
2ND), WHICH ALSO SETS A NEW MARK FOR THIS DECADE. THE LAST TIME A
STREAK AS LONG AS FOUR DAYS WITH BELOW ZERO READINGS OCCURRED WAS A
SEVEN-DAY STRETCH FROM JANUARY 30TH-FEBRUARY 5TH, 1999.

TEMPERATURES ARE CURRENTLY NOT EXPECTED TO IMPROVE SIGNIFICANTLY
THROUGH THE MIDDLE OF THE NEXT WEEK.

Draw Your Own Conclusions

We don't see things as they are, we see things as we are.
I see the world as round.

Blue Uniform Blues

I go back on my diet on Friday, and back to work on Monday. Still, as you can see here, it's going to be tough to get into my uniform.

Bluetooth Bites

I went for another short ride yesterday with my trailer. It was colder so I wore a few layers of clothes, even under my helmet. It was a tight fit. Every time I swallowed, I called Sarah's cell phone. After a few times, I realized it was because my chin moved when I swallowed pulling the helmet strap against the headset, so if I quickly opened my mouth after it dialed, I could hang back up again. If riding at 0º wasn't enough, gasping like a fish while doing it, might have made me look crazy.

Duty Blog

I've been just sitting around eating, which doesn't make for very interesting blogging. It also doesn't do anything for my self image, or, especially, my mirror image. I waddled in front of a mirror and it took so long it was like watching a train go by.
I did go for a bike ride tonight with my new trailer....
I had to take a break from typing to go have some pulled pork, which sounds vaguely obscene, but really was more about deadly sin number two, gluttony.
Anyway, the ride was nice. I only went as far as Home Depot. A little comedy of errors in the store, so it took longer than I expected. I said something about hoping my bike wasn't stolen and the clerk said it didn't seem likely anyone would steal a bike in this weather. The weather takes a (frost) bite out of crime.

You Can't Keep a Good (Snow) Man Down

Civil Servants Run Amok

I don't want to be a told-you-so, but I'm afraid that if I don't remind you, you won't remember that you heard it here first.
The city of Anchorage has stopped accepting glass for recycling, saying there's no market for it. So, why are we continuing to force city residents into mandatory recycling?
If you were a lemming parent do you think you'd even bother to ask your kids if they'd jump off a cliff just because their friends did it?
What's really roiling the talk radio septic tank is news that the city has banned Snowzilla. Opinions are split between those that think this the first step down a civil rights/free speech/artistic freedom slippery slope, (ha ha, a little snow joke) and those that wish that the city would make him clean up his junk in the summer, too.

Let It Stop, Let It Stop, Let it Stop

We went to a wedding reception on Saturday. In the best man's toast, he said that he and the groom had worked together one summer. They were really funny, but they were the only ones who noticed. I got it, hard.

Sarah's in Seattle. She didn't mean to be, it's just that's where she was was when the weather canceled all the flights in the northwest. It gives us an extra two days to talk about cleaning the house before she comes home.

And To All A Good Night.

Those scientists at Stonehenge and Mt Palomar can paint themselves blue and shake their fists, but for all practical purposes, the winter solstice comes today, for me at least.
After I get off work this afternoon, I'm on vacation until the 5th of January, and I don't plan on even going outside until then, unless there's a prospect of food. For that matter, it's Christmas Eve, too, since I won't be delivering any more Christmas presents this year.

It's Not Just Sarah And ME

Ha, according to Grammar Girl's podcast today, misuse of "myself" is one of the top grammar peeves of 2008 according to her online poll. Another one; we don't like to be called pedantic for preferring correct usage.

The Only Clout I Have Is A Breechclout

I drove to work today. On the way, I stopped for gas and while it was pumping, some homeless guys came over and asked for a ride. I think that's what they said, they were pointing and talking, although it sounded like they said something about the moon. I told them I wasn't going that far, just up the block to the post office. They said okay, and I went to work.

When I got out of the car there, I realized why I looked like part of their tribe, my sweater was hanging out of my coat and down between my legs. Maybe my dishevelment had something to with this; last night, Karen said my coat was in her way, so she crawled over the cart that was in her way and moved my coat "just three feet away" under the kitchen table where the dog slept on it all night. Why she did that is a long story. Thirty three years "on our way to forever together."

Once Again, We're Part Of The Problem

I read today about a man that lost control of his car. His 10 year old son was killed when they slid into the path of a semi carrying Christmas trees. How many more people, and trees, must die before we end this madness?

Alaskan Deaths By Natural Disaster Are Off The Chart

It kind of hurts my feelings:

Apparently My Blank Stare Was the Tip Off

I talked to some of the carolers at church on Sunday. They noticed I didn't seem too enthused about having a bunch of people in front of my house wishing me a merry Christmas. I explained about the PICC line and the garbage buffet, and they seemed mollified, but I'm taking this opportunity to tell you right now, I don't have any, and will not have any, figgy pudding.

Hmm, I Found a Perfect Link to a Course About Zombies to Use in This Post, But Somehow, I Never Even Got Around to Mentioning Zombies

Last night after work I had to pick up three prescriptions from Fred Meyer's for Karen. Even though it was three separate prescriptions, I managed to get them all with only two separate trips. Today we took Karen to the infusion pharmacy to get her medicine changed. My father used to say that before you can do something, you have to do something else. Before we could get the medicine, the nurse said we had to go to the emergency room and have the PICC line changed because it had pulled out too far. We went to the emergency room where they interrogated us about what would make us even think we could get a PICC line at the ER.We should have been at the out patient infusion place. The in patient IV team lady put a peripheral line into Karen's hand. I called the pharmacy to tell them we were on the way back to get the medicine, but the nurse there said that was not acceptable. Then a lot of other stuff happened, culminating in Karen getting a PICC line installed and her medicine changed at about 7:30 this evening. Then home, to clean up the garbage buffet the dogs had spread out in the living room. Okay, Karen cleaned that up, but the whole time she was doing it, she was explaining that she wouldn't have had to do it if I'd been a better father. Which reminds me, I told Karen, who was getting a little cranky at the hospital, "Look, we saved your life, and brought you home, don't make us regret it." The IV nurse said, "That's good, you need to keep your sense of humor."
"Okay, think of that as a joke," I told her.
As the day wore on and on, I felt more and more like one of those unhappy people in a TV Christmas special who just needs that one thing to remind them that life is special because of the special people in their lives and about the true meaning of Christmas. So, you'd think when a bunch of carolers from our church down the street rang our doorbell and started singing to us that that would do it. That's what you'd think, but of course, you've never been the morose guy in the special.

Snail Mail

Outside's the rain, the driving snow
I can hear the wild wind blowing
Turn out the light
Bolt the door
I ain't going out there no more
-From Cover Me-Bruce Springsteen

Yesterday was icy, but the walking wasn't too bad because I have little spiky things, called spikies, on my boots. Today it started to snow, but the snow wasn't anchored to the ice and the walking was terrible. Each swing took about twice as long as the one before it and I wasn't sure if I'd ever finish. I felt like Zeno's mailman.

Really Dead Letter

One of Sarah's friends, wait, based on how many times he's sent me National Friendship Week Announcements, and by the way, when isn't it National Friendship Week...
Let me start over, I know a guy, and he was telling me that Boston is such a confusing place to drive, that someday he expects to drive into a cul-de-sac that's one way. I was worried about a similar problem when I had a certified letter addressed to Mrs. X, decd. Luckily it wasn't restricted delivery.

Fair Enough

As I understand it (based on a dim memory of some sixth grade memorization, and a quick glance at Wikipedia) the sixth and fourteenth amendments to the constitution guarantee Americans a fair trial. But one of our local serial killers already had a fair trial, and it turned out really badly. Even though he was showing off the body of his victim, the jury believed his story, "She was already dead when I found her and started bragging about killing her."
Now his attorney wants to throw out evidence in his latest trial for torturing and killing a different woman. I don't think so. We did that once, and look what happened.

Do You Really Want Seconds on That Salad?

I was off yesterday so we went to see the visiting nurse (instead of her coming here which Blue Cross is getting tired of paying for). She called Karen her miracle patient since when she first met Karen she was barely conscious, but yesterday she was able to walk and talk all on her own.

The carrier that takes my place had to cover two other routes as well, so he was out until after eight last night. About fifteen years ago, I had a piece published in the Anchorage Daily News about delivering mail in Alaska. I said that it's a poor business plan to schedule your heaviest workload when there's no light and it's bitterly cold. I'm pretty sure it was only published because I had taken a class from a friend of the editor. The class was on writing for publication. Like I said, it was a long time ago, before blogs. Then, you had to bow to the tyranny of editors who wanted stuff to be interesting. It was so long ago that dial-up referred to those phones that had a dial that you had to spin, instead of buttons to push. We were still, as an alien in the book, Chocky, said, in the thrall of the wheel. The writer, John Whyndam was pretty prescient. His most famous book is about talking plants with poisonous whips that almost take over the world after everyone goes blind, so I would advise treating your flowers with a little more respect. You'll want them to like you when the verdant uprising occurs. Back then (when I wrote my article, at the top of this paragraph ) there wasn't much of an internet, at all. We had a 300 baud Modulator-Demodulator so we could communicate with the library very slowly. We could have probably communicated more quickly by just going there, but we wouldn't have been nearly as cool.

I wrote once about the creation of the universe and how scientific speculation didn't seem any more plausible than the idea of turtles holding up the earth. I mean, where would Atlas stand? As of this morning, when I weighed myself, he seemed to be standing with me on the scale.

Zen Dentistry, One Hand Claps, The Bridge is Nowhere

Karen made an appointment to have her bridge replaced, but here in this magic realism house, the bridge is missing.

It's A Small World After All; A Small Creepy World

Leah has begun to look for an apartment. Yesterday I found a house on craigslist in a great neighborhood for an unbelievable price. So unbelievable in fact that when we sent an e-mail, the response came from a "missionary" in "West Africa" and said all we had to do was call him so we could send him some money and he'd send us the keys.
What's weird and creepy, like one of those scary campfire stories, Leah's been getting phone calls late at night from the same number.

Baroness Munchausen and the Bridge to Nowehere

Karen was flossing tonight and pulled out a bridge. Anything for attention.

What's My Motivation Here?

Since our station manager went mad and was shipped off to the air force base post office, we've only had an acting station manager. He's not very convincing in the role, though.

Ignore Him, Maybe He'll Go Away

That advice might work on a bratty little brother, but it turns out that huge piles of mail are impervious to snubs. Yesterday we were told to leave behind mountains of non-preferential mail so that we could help on other routes without using overtime. I had to invoke the "Pay me now, or pay me later" clause because as Chico Marx said, "There is no sanity clause."
Today, I had to work long after dark, but luckily I had a new ball cap with a light built in. Delivering mail in the dark used to be depressing but with the advent of LED's and lithium batteries not so much. It's so much easier to see, and if the light burns out, you can always eat the battery.

Going in Circles

I forgot to mention that the other day that as we went in circles between visits to doctors and a pharmacy Karen did manage to get her blood drawn and tested. Her potassium and saline levels are just exactly perfect.

In other circular news, I've eaten so much lately and our roads are so full of churned up snow along with a threat of rain, and when I got home from work today our dog was in the garbage, that I may already be living in the:
Third Circle
Cerberus guards the gluttons, forced to lie in a vile slush made by freezing rain, black snow, and hail. This symbolizes the garbage that the gluttons made of their lives on earth, slavering over food.

We'd Call It Blockbuster and We'd Hate it

I told Sarah that I bought six new phones and scattered them around the house. The most brilliant part is that the main phone's handset is attached to the base by a cord. "Oh sure," she said, "and what if we could just get in our car and take our movies back to Netflix?"

Red Steam Rising

We went back to the hospital tonight, but it's not what you think. Karen just needed some blood drawn before she sees one of the doctors she has an appointment with tomorrow. It was snowing and slick, but what can you do?
Except the nurse I talked to at 3:30 didn't get the order faxed to the lab, so we drove over there and back and Karen still has all her blood. A little of mine boiled away.

Shopping Therapy

Karen came home from the hospital on Friday night. Saturday was our 33rd anniversary. This year, rather than try and find one restaurant that satisfied both of us, we ordered take-out from two different ones. To show how committed I am to the relationship, I ate too much Italian and Mexican food.
Yesterday, we went to Costco, and then after a break we went to our new Target. I think it felt pretty good for her to be out. I was a little bored at Target, or as Leah put it, "I hear you were a jerk."
"Really," I said, "your mom said that?"
Leah said, "No, but I've been places with you."
Anyway, Karen got pretty worn out at Target and today she's been complaining of a headache and tiredness. In spite of that, her blood pressure is still good. Tomorrow she's supposed to have blood work, and then see some doctors on Wednesday

At First It's Horrid. Later, It Probably Won't Be.

I'm still shocked at the recent death of one of my customers. Part of what's horrid, is that life goes on so easily around the family. People still get mail and watch TV. There were obituaries in the paper today, but also wedding announcements. I imagine that life going on is what allows people to pull through as they're pulled along. Still.
According to Brueghel
when Icarus fell
it was spring
a farmer was ploughing
his field
the whole pageantry
of the year was
awake tingling
near
the edge of the sea
concerned
with itself
sweating in the sun
that melted
the wings' wax
unsignificantly
off the coast
there was
a splash quite unnoticed
this was
Icarus drowning~William Carlos Williams

Beet's Me

Here's a link to the blog written by the Freakonomics guy. His guest author says that Aussies eat beets on hamburgers. I've had to accept a lot of things over the years, but this just seems a little hard to swallow, like beets.

The Wisdom of the Crowd, Or, Why I Hate Everybody

A truly wonderful doctor on my route was killed a couple of days ago. He was driving a dog team near Kotzebue (where he had traveled to run a clinic for Native children) when a drunk on a snowmobile (Satan's own personal transport) ran over him. The local newspaper allows people to post comments on their articles. I thought I might post one about what a loss it was, but first I started to read the other comments. They started out well enough, but soon the talk turned to snowmobiles and not as you might think, that they were the kind of thing Satan would ride to the store to get a leaf blower, but the word itself. Apparently, up here we call them snowmachines, not snowmobiles, like that's the important issue. It's people that make comment sections so worthless. Present company excepted, of course.

We're Going Home, I Guess

I heard a story recently on Radio Lab. They said that even brief exposures to cold temperatures cause people to be less trusting. It may be true; I was outside all day, and I pretty much hate everbody.
I don't know how people described paradoxes before Joseph Heller wrote Catch-22. Karen is being released in a few minutes because she's stronger and less confused. She's still a little confused, though, sometimes, BUT, she called Sarah and said we were treating her like she was retarded. The thing is, how would she know?

Good News Mr. Postmaster, No Polyps

I was talking to the hospital chaplain that came to visit Karen yesterday. She represents the United Church of Christ. They're not the fiercely rigid church of Christ, they're the hippies of the church world. They don't actually seem to believe anything, which, I suppose is handy in a hospital chaplain environment since you can agree with everybody. I told her that lately it seemed like we take one step forward with Karen and then fell off the world backwards. She liked that analogy. I told her (because I'll tell anybody) that in August I rode my bike 100 miles and that since then our lives have been like a roller coaster. In August, we were climbing up to the top, and now we've been plunging for so long that the people around us are starting to speak Chinese. She said, "Nope, still prefer the falling off the world backwards, one."
Recently, our station manager went mad, and so they moved him to the post office at the air force base. Many organizations like to look around and promote from within, but I think it's important to not have your head within your duodenum, so to speak, when you're doing the looking. I wasn't sure exactly what the duodenum was, so I had to look it up. I think they were in the inferior duodenum (I'm sorry, I just like saying duodenum) when they found our replacement station manager. Today our supervisor was showing him how to use a graduated stick to count mail (high tech in the 21st century, 21st century BC , that is). In his next lesson, he has to learn that it's just a stick, not a scepter.

Maybe I Haven't Made Myself Clear

In case it isn't obvious, here's an article from that elitist of media.

Usually When Someone Says Something This Stupid, They Work For The Post Office

Your default shipping address is in Alaska Shipping addresses in Alaska and Hawaii are eligible only for Standard Shipping. We strongly recommend you change your default shipping address in Your Account to take advantage of free Two-Day Shipping.

Mona Lisa Smile

One of Karen's doctors was just here. He said she was an enigma. I think that's as good a description as I've heard.

Bitter Medicine

Karen is still in the hospital, although she's alert and going to PT every day and going for walks in the hall. She's in a very bad mood, but the doctor says that's a good sign. He said that after poking his head in the door and quickly withdrawing it.
That doctor, and I, want her to think about going to a different facility for intermediate care before coming home. That, along with everything else, makes her angry. But that's a good sign. Not as good as a sign that says, "Exit", or as pleasant, but still, pretty good, I guess.

At The Center of the Universe is a Black Hole, a Needy Black Hole

Karen's potassium level was reported to be "critically low" yesterday morning, but it turned out that they were actually testing the cleansing solution in her IV. Her potassium was low and she was critical, but those were two different conditions.
One of my customers welcomed me back from my vacation today. Never one to pass up a shot at sympathy, I told him that I hadn't been on vacation; my wife is in the hospital. I passed him again a few minutes later and he said something, but all I heard was, "getting out soon?" I said, "Well, they've offered me an early retirement, but I don't think I'm going to take it." He gave me a look, "Um, I said is your wife getting out soon."

Another Really Long Post, And Why? Because I Have Time On My Hands.

It turns out that what we had thought of as our wits end, was just a portal to the next level of the inferno. Over the last few days, Karen had seemed to be slipping away from us. She was almost never awake, and when she was awake, she was confused, disoriented and hallucinating. Finally on Friday, she never was able to wake up at all. I called her doctor's office and insisted on talking to someone. Eventually, the PA said that she would send the visiting nurse over to turn down Karen's pain pump and to add a saline drip. She called a few minutes later to say that, no, Karen should just go to the hospital where arrangements had already been made to direct admit her. We found out later, that was because the visiting nurse refused to turn the pump down as drastically as the doctor wanted. That's why it was such a surprise that the EMT's gave her Narcan, which completely counteracts the effects of Fentanyl. So that rather than have a debate about how quickly to titrate her down, the EMT's just threw her into immediate withdrawl. Apparently if they don't find an emergency, they have to create one. I suppose by the same token a fireman should bring his own matches. By the time she arrived at the ER, she was having DT's. They're called the shakes, but that doesn't really do justice to the bed-shaking, uncontrolled writhing, and arm and leg flailing. About then, the ER doctor told me that, in fact, there were no orders to admit Karen. I'm afraid that I used a very bad word to explain how I wouldn't have come at all if I'd known that, since we've made so many fruitless trips to the ER. They did admit her after a few hours with a promise to not make any changes in her meds till we came back this morning. Which, of course, was one more lie. When we got here, her meds had been cut by almost 80%. When Dr. Childs, DO. finally showed up, I asked him if that wasn't a pretty big drop in one day. "Do you want to take over her case?" he asked. Really, he said that. I told him that, no, I didn't, but, gesturing at Karen, I told him I wasn't all that impressed with the job he was doing. "Well, maybe we should arrange for another practice to take over." Amazingly, Leah, of all people stepped in and smoothed things over. It's like we were playing good cop, bad cop and I was the bad cop this time. Playing bad cop was fun. Sometimes, I bet the bad cop isn't even playing.

How Sweet

It turns out that a lot of doctors prescribe placebos, which makes them little better than witch doctors and faith healers. I think something a lot of people might have overlooked is that maybe when people taking sugar pills get better it's because sugar itself is a superfood.
Anyway, it was just Karen's luck to go to a doctor using nocebos.

"The Heartbreak of Remoras"

I called in sick Monday and Tuesday because I had a dreadful sinus infection, and today, and probably tomorrow because a confused Karen kept us up a lot of the night last night. A nurse came to draw blood on Monday and Tuesday, but didn't get any, but today one was successful, although dismissive of the tests that had been ordered on it. These tests are supposed go to a kidney/hypertension specialist that we'd hoped to see this week, but now just hope to see ever.
In the meantime, with her hyponatremia or whatever is wrong with her untreated, Karen appears to have become the goddess of a new canine cargo cult. While she eats, our dogs sit at her feet worshipping and adoring. Eventually she dozes off, and a feast slides into their open mouths. They have their reward in this world.
We voted absentee in the elections that just passed. We decided to vote for Ted Stevens because we thought it was more Alaskan to vote for a felon than the dweeb that was running against him. The apparent reelection of Don Young, though, is just inexplicable.

Karen's Still Sick, Confused, In Pain, and Falling

I'm not sure how to express the inexpressible. Inarticulate frustration that really cries out for something like "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGH"
This is why comic book writers have it all over bloggers. A couple of big "POWS" made Adam West's career.
Anyhoo, Karen's still sick. There's no real treatment plan in place, no doctor's appointment in sight, and our friends from Homer are leaving the state tomorrow. Because she's falling when she tries to walk by herself, she can't be left by herself. Our paid FMLA is almost used up. There's a state program that pays for caregivers to come to your house, but, for now, we still have too much money to qualify. The lady on the phone misheard me, "The fact you're unemployed will really help," she said.
Last week, Sarah heard that Karen was being rushed to the hospital with low potassium. She sent a health drink with potassium up to us, but by the time it arrived, Karen had low sodium instead, a condition that might be exacerbated by excess potassium. When we tried to get Karen to drink it (because her potassium levels aren't really all that high, or even quite normal) she said it smelled like tears.
By now the whole house does, or to put it another way:
AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH

What Not to Watch

It's my day off. I'm indulging my cold by staying mostly in bed, and I was indulging Karen for awhile by watching, What Not to Wear. Today's show was about a tiny woman who shopped in the junior section. It's hard for small women to find clothes. There used to be a couple of shops in Anchorage that catered to small women. Well, no that wouldn't have worked, because small women don't eat, but it did sell them clothes. They're gone now, but there are a couple of stores that sell to larger women, and they're busy, you can't even get through the doors. They're thinking of larger doors.

In the Kitchen With Zippy

I was a little rude to one of my customers yesterday. She came to the door because she heard me saying loudly, "Are you there, are you there?", and I was all, "What?" to her.
I had been on the phone with my daughter and Karen's doctor's office all morning because Karen has been so confused and weak, and then suddenly, there she was on the phone seeming almost completely normal.
She's been, we think, suffering from low sodium levels that her doctors aren't treating. Yesterday we took matters into our own hands, or handles, as it were, and just starting salting everything she ate, using jerky as our standard measure of saltiness. It seems to have worked, but, of course, a woman who has been suffering from edema for the last couple of years, probably can't stay on this regimen for long. It's like cooking on a tightrope, while an angry mob of monkeys throws doctors at you.

Oh, And Another Thing

For being in such a literally visceral profession, doctors and nurses use a curiously bloodless jargon. They gave Karen some medicine to relax her before sending her to the MRI. As they were injecting it, hey presto,  her blood oxygen saturation dropped from 98% to 90% and then all the way down to 80% and she stopped responding to her name. They slapped some oxygen on her and sent her on her way. They told the transport guy to be sure and keep a monitor on her since she had de-satted. 

I suppose all people with  careers that involve blood and despair find a vocabulary to insulate themselves from the horrors they see every day. For example, I'm sure it's much easier for mass murderers to think of themselves as ethnic cleansers. See, cleansing, it's a good thing. 

Postal Supervisors Are a Necessity. Necessity is the Mother of Invention. Ergo, Postal Supervisors Are What?

Today they announced they're changing where our mail trucks park. They didn't really announce it; the news just dribbled out. The rationale is that subs can't find their trucks since they currently aren't in route order. One carrier pointed out to our new supervisor that if they couldn't read the map of the garage, they shouldn't be delivering mail. Later that same day, that same supervisor drove up to me on the route and asked where a certain street was. 

It's as if the post office is continually re-inventing the wheel, without ever realizing that what makes wheels so cool is that they're round. 

Yesterday at the hospital one of the nurses made Leah so angry. She didn't seem to take the infection control protocols seriously. I thought Leah might be over-reacting until I noticed how she was cleaning the cap on the PICC line going into Karen's arm.

It's Almost Halloween, and Karen's Doctors Are Pretty Scary

Today at the school where I deliver mail, the secretary invited me to guess how much the pumpkin in the office weighed. I guessed 53 pounds which was way, weigh off. As a math project, the older kids are measuring the pumpkin's circumference, and the home-ec kids are dividing that by 3.14 to make pumpkin pi.
That's about as far as I got today, because Leah and Ambre couldn't wake Karen and she was sort of twitching, so they called me, I told them to call the home health nurse and she told them to call 911. I came home and Karen was awake and mad, but nothing would do, but another ambulance ride to the hospital, another eight hours in the ER and then bounced out. The ER doctor said she was fine. She's home now and still barely awake and sort of twitching; another triumph of the medical arts.

I Love You Sarah Palin, But Someone is Coming Between Us.

Another day, another doctor's visit.
Ralph Nader is starting to sound less and less crazy. I don't think he even minds that he might take votes away from Obama.

Here's Something Irritating Although If You Don't Work at the PO It's Going to Seem Sort of Random and Jargon-Filled. How Irritating

I got two letters from the postal service today. One was about the FMLA case that they still haven't approved, and the other was from the District Manager saying that times are tough, but one way they're saving money is by cutting back on supplies. All well and good, I guess, if they were writing to school children or idiots, but where I work, they just hauled out all our perfectly usable cases, and replaced them with new cases that are almost as good as the old ones. Okay, that's a lie, they're nowhere near as good as the old ones, they're just maddeningly impossible to work with. I thought I could be so clever and sneak back and get dividers since I have one of the few routes that the old dividers would still work on, but they had the janitor throw the (perfectly usable) shelves and dividers in the dumpster. So, thousands of dollars to turn p/u equipment into trash, but just try and find a freakin' rubber band during Austerity Days here at the Penny-Wise-Pound-Foolish Office.
See Comment for link context.

The Mask Comes Off

I never saw the Mission Impossible movie, but I think there's a scene where a character pulls off their face and turns out to be Tom Cruise. In a move that can only be compared to finding out that your companion is a monster a la Tom Cruise, or maybe that sweet Bathilda Bagshot is really Nagini, health insurance companies are finally admitting that they are not primarily involved in healthcare at all. Here's an excerpt from an LA Times article:
Federal banking regulators insisted on classifying WellPoint as a healthcare company. And that was interfering with its efforts to open a bank.

The Federal Reserve Board eventually agreed that the company's core insurance business could be considered financial services. But what about its mail-order pharmacy and its program for managing chronic diseases, which was overseen by WellPoint doctors and nurses? Wasn't that healthcare?

WellPoint finally convinced the Fed that those activities were merely "complementary" to its main business -- financial services. It pledged to limit them to less than 5% of total revenue...

"We want the customer to be empowered," Rowan said.

Good News, The Pump's Fine

Our friend Ambre was with Karen yesterday. She called me and told me I was supposed to call Ivy Infusion so they could tell me that they tested the pump and it was fine. I couldn't bring myself to do it, though. I really don't care if the pump's fine; it should be, it just took 3 days off.

The Opposite of a Bad Thing Must Be...

a different bad thing. Awhile ago, Karen's pump thought it was empty, so it stopped pumping, even though in reality it was still half full. Today, the nurse came to change the bag of medicine because it was time and the pump said it was nearly out, but no, it had only claimed to be pumping for the last few days and Karen (who has been complaining about being in so much pain) wasn't getting any medicine at all.

Safari can’t open the page... because it can’t find the server “usps.gov”.

That was the response to a link I got in a brochure from the postal service offering me early retirement. It's just as well that apparently the offer was a prank, since I can't afford my life now, better yet on 3/5 pay. I'm not sure I could tell the difference anyway, considering how little I've worked lately. I had hoped to be able to go to  work today by getting three ladies to come and stay with Karen, but only one returned my call and she would have had a tough time ignoring me since I actually found her on the street a block from here and followed her until she said she would do it. That covered two hours, which allowed me to go grocery shopping. That was nice since I was getting tired of moths flying out every time I opened the refrigerator. 

Anyway, how could an inquisitive person ever leave the postal service with opportunities like these?

Beware the Medical-Industrial Complex

Karen's doctor called me yesterday and told me that Karen had to be admitted to the hospital; I had to take her as soon as I got home from work. She called back to say that although she had tried to get Karen admitted directly, we would have to present at the ER and then they would read her notes and admit Karen. Except, they didn't. They did blood work, and checked her vitals and sent us home a little after midnight.

I say that Karen's doctor called me yesterday. In truth, just before she hung up, she said she didn't want us to think of her as Karen's primary care doctor. This, after more than a year of agreeing with us how good it was to have Karen's pain and family practice doctors together in one clinic.

"And never a human voice comes near
To speak a gentle word:
And the eye that watches through the door
Is pitiless and hard:
And by all forgot, we rot and rot,
With soul and body marred."~from the Ballad of Reading Gaol

You Know I'm a Mailman, Right?

Karen's doctor called me at work today and asked me why Karen wasn't admitted to the hospital yesterday.

She's Still No Fun

Today, Karen was at her doctor's office when, on the way back to the exam room, she fell right over.  I was all, "Oh, she's just looking for attention," but the doctor thought that maybe the falling over and the twitching that's started recently might indicate some kind of problem. Perhaps her extremely low sodium and potassium levels were to blame, and since they not only can cause muscle weakness, but also cardiac problems that need to be monitored, she should go back to the ER. Oh, and in an ambulance, because, "David, you'll be all by yourself in the parking lot and if she falls, you won't be able to get her back up." I thought maybe they could help me get her in the car, but no, paramedics were called.

At the hospital, it took hours before they did anything, and they never did monitor her heart or even her pulse, nor did they give her potassium, they gave her magnesium because apparently those two minerals like to hang out together.

While we were there, I realized this might be the part of a new tradition; it was a year ago today that Karen fell, and broke her arm and ended up in the ER.

Maybe Gilligan Was the Wrong TV Metaphor

Maybe instead of referring to Karen's Medical Mystery Tour as Gilliganesque, I should have compared its plot twists about innocents marooned in incomprehensibility to Lost. The difference being that Gilligan played its castaways for laughs.

We recently started the third month of so-called recovery since Karen's day surgery went bad. To celebrate, yesterday Karen came upstairs for the first time since August and looked around a little like a prairie dog. Things had changed a little. For one thing, it was snowing. Some things stay the same, as Jean Baptiste Alphonse Karr pointed out (so long ago that no one remembers who said it, which happens all the time, which in a very neat and contained way makes his point). After two months of nursing Karen, I'm still waiting for the Post Office to approve my request for FMLA leave.

The Classical and Modern Combined in One Man, One Man Who, Rather Than Cleaning the House, Is, Even Now, Sitting in a Recliner Blogging

According to Wikipedia, " More than other sins, the definition of sloth has changed considerably since its original inclusion among the seven deadly sins. In fact it was first called the sin of sadness or despair."
Um, I've taken Zoloft for the last seven years, do I have to say anything else to show my classical bona fides for this original meaning of sloth? I hope not, because it sounds like a lot of work, and, also according to Wikipedia, "Current interpretations... portray sloth as being more simply a sin of laziness or indifference, of an unwillingness to act, an unwillingness to care rather than a failure to love God and his works."
I don't want to brag, sin number seven, and the root of all other sins, but if I was any more slothful, I'd be hanging upside down from a branch eating leaves.

Perspective is All

 I was followed all day by a pair of supervisors evaluating the latest adjustment to my route. I was afraid that they might not have had enough cold weather gear for our first snow fall. It turns out they did: a Jeep Cherokee.  I'm pretty sure that from inside their heated automobile, my job looked like a pleasant walk through  swirling, downy feathers of joy. I know from where I was trudging up slippery driveways, it looked like they were just sitting on their keisters all day.