That cop gave me a ticket

Here I was, minding my own business, just driving around the internet in my old, dialup backup machine (you know there is a story in the reason for that!) when I see a sign in the distance. It tells me I Have Been Tagged by Remo.

Remo is a cop. He says I have to do something, then I will do it. I was rather surprised he used pink ink, but here are the rules:

Here are the rules; the first player of this game starts with the topic. Five weird habits of yourself and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don’t forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says “You are tagged” (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.

Do I have to do this even though he didn't leave me a comment? Remo broke the rules, Remo broke the rules...

I am pretty sure I did this voluntarily a long time ago in my journal. I know I have weird habits and I wear them proudly. Well, most of them, anyway. Let's see which five pop into my head first:

1. Well, Remo mentioned that he puts his socks on before his pants. After a shower, the first thing I put on is socks. Nothing else, just socks first. I remember stating this before because I thought it was weird, and Kathi said she does it too. Why do I remember that when I can't remember what I did yesterday?

2. Like Mrs L, I have very neat and clean drawers and closets. The rest is clean, but not always neat.

3. I walk on the right side of people. I am not comfortable on the left side and will move over. I am not sure where that came from, perhaps from when child was younger and I held her down, I mean held her little hand with my left and kept my right free to open doors, pry her inquiring hands off things, and such.

4. I read a lot of books. Lately, even more books than that. When I read a book I like, I then find every book that author wrote and read them, too. Once I was out of books to read, so I went back to school and got my master's degree in administration. Then I had a couple of years of reading to catch up on that I missed. Worked for me.

5. I do not like coffee. I know, it's Unamerican and maybe inhuman. But I don't like the smell of it or anything flavored with it. I love chocolate but dislike dark partly because it often has a coffee undertaste to it. I do not understand why anyone wants to stick hot water made with ground up old hard nuts into their mouths. I am surely not touching the kind made from coffee beans crapped out by civets. Eww.

I know I am supposed to tag 5 people. Remo told me to. So, I tag the first five people who read this who haven't been tagged yet. You are on the honor system. Have fun.

 

 

 

 

 

Regional words

I live in Michigan. When we drink Pepsi or Diet Coke, any soft drink, we call it 'pop.' When I travel, I try to remember to ask for 'soda' in restaurants, since most of the country calls it that. I think in Texas it's Coke. As in "what kind of coke do you want? We have Pepsi or Mountain Dew."

In Toronto, once, I ordered 'diet soda.' The response was that they don't carry soda, just pop, and if I wanted a diet Coke they had that. I had no idea that the term 'pop' was used much outside of Michigan and Ohio.

A friend of mine lives in California. We often discuss house stuff online because she is very into her home and I really am trying to convince myself to move. I have mentioned my 'doorwall' a few times over the years. She was totally unfamiliar with the term. She finally asked me last night what it is. She said every room has a wall with a door in it, and if I didn't like it I could maybe paint it or have a company come out and do something about it.

A 'doorwall' is a sliding glass door. One of those big jobbies that slides to the side? I have heard them called 'sliders' also.

Is 'doorwall' a local term? I have asked a few friends who live here and they are all totally familiar with the term. I just looked it up in Merriam-Webster, and they show no such word. After I gave it some thought, it does seem like a strange word, but I have heard it all my life.

Anyone else ever hear of a doorwall? Spell check didn't. 

I Scare Children

I have wanted to write this entry for months. I had to let my emotions die down a little bit first. I was reading yesterday and the book brought the topic to the front of my mind again. I was reading Devil's Corner by Lisa Scottoline. A character says, on page 7, "You're bossy for . . . a midget." This appears to be said with affection.

Twice I had read, in the same journal, that the writer is "afraid of midgets." Once, at least, it was spelled incorrectly. So I went to Merriam-Webster to see if there is a certain size that means midget. No, it just says smaller with normal proportions, but it also indicates "sometimes offensive."

Yes, it is. It is an offensive term unless you are using it as above in the book. Unless it is said with affection to someone you know who understands your meaning, it's an offensive term. It's the M-word, equivalent to the N-word, especially since it is sometimes used as seen in that journal, as in "afraid of."

I am 5 feet tall. The woman in the book is 5'2". There are numerous references in the book, written in the first person, about her being short. While I enjoy Ms Scottoline's books, her constant reference to height in this book reminded me of how I felt when I read those journal entries.

My mother was 4'10". I have an aunt who is 4'8". Should my aunt and I stay indoors, so we don't scare children? My mother is dead, so luckily she is no longer scaring people or offending them with her height. It doesn't matter if we have high IQs, good manners, nice grooming, or anything else. We scare people because we are closer to the ground.

If you want to really offend me, point out someone to me and say, "Look! That person is shorter than you are!" Be sure to say it loud enough so the other person can hear you. That way you can offend two of us. We will not, however, point and say, "Look! That person is fatter/dumber/smellier/older/younger/taller than you are. 

I used to add insult to injury because I was extremely thin. Do you have any idea what it's like to have people look at you and say, "I hate you. You are skinny." Once, someone said to me, "Hi, Skinny," and without thinking at all, I reacted with, "Hi, Fatty." I felt awful, I really did, but it was an unconsicous reaction, and I apologized more than once. She never did, of course. It's perfectly OK to constantly rant and carry on rudely about someone being too thin. No one ever asked me if I felt good about myself when I weighed under 85 lbs. To be honest, I didn't. It did not help to have people tell me they hated me over a medical condition.

I spent my formative years being reminded that I was short and that people hated me for being thin. Perhaps they assumed I didn't know these things about myself, so they needed to point them out to me? I laughed at names like Half Pint, Shorty, Little One, Little Bit, Red.

Did I forget to mention the red hair? Really, it's red-brown. Auburn. People have followed me around all my life and asked me what color dye I put on my hair. Some called me a liar when I said I didn't dye it. Strangers used to come up to me in public and grab a handful of my long hair and fondle it. They didn't ask permission; they just grabbed it and told me it was beautiful. It was nice to hear, but the touching part really wasn't appropriate from strangers. Ladies used to get mad when they would see my hair while I was in the hairdresser's and would ask their stylist to give them my color, and the stylist would tell them it can't be done. I can't even get my gray covered up without a major color change. It's just not a color - according to my stylist - "found in nature." I used to hate it, but I don't any more. I am now proud of it.

I have many times wished to be 5'4", 120 lbs, with brown/brown. At least I have the brown eyes, although I often hear, "I have never seen brown eyes that dark on a white girl."

Sigh. Sorry to whine, but I guess we redheaded midgets are like that.

The New System

Always on, Always Up-to-Date Virus Protection
For AOL Members, at No Extra Charge


Download AOL® Safety and Security Center


Online threats change every day. That's why the AOL® Safety and Security Center includes comprehensive virus protection. Its always-on, always up-to-date protection is updated every time you log on to the Web. So we can help protect your whole computer, not just your e-mail, from the newest viruses -- and you don't have to do a thing.

When you download the AOL Safety and Security Center, you'll get the most comprehensive set of online safety and security tools, including spyware and virus protection programs, a firewall, parental controls and AOL® Explorer for phishing protection.

 

This is what you will end up having to use. If you have never had Norton on your system, you will have no issues. You will click on Download Now, and it will just insert itself politely into your computer and all will be just fine.

I do not know why I had to do it and many of you haven't had to yet. My other computer hasn't been prompted for it. I suggest you just watch for the little McAffe M to turn into a McAfee M down in your tray. Then go up to "safety" on your menu bar and find the download.

If you want, I am sure you can jump the gun and do it now. Just be sure to get some items first to make a smooth transition. I suggest a bag of peanut M&Ms, a fork, some boiling water, and an axe. The axe is for last resort. A pencil and paper are a good idea if you end up dealing with the techs. Write down the session number and copy what they tell you in case they also lead you on a wild goose chase. You now know enough that if you have problems getting the anti-virus component to contact a tech and tell them you might have Norton and want instructions for getting rid of it. If it tells you it is cleaning off Norton, it is lying to you.

I think the new little security icon strongly resembles a powder blue pig, but that is just my opinion.

I have your safety and security right here

Anyone else wake up this morning to a black McAfee icon in their tray? I did, and wasn't happy. I am security conscious, after all, like a good girl. So I rooted around before signing on to figure out the problem.

It seems that AOL has decided to change the security system for the 9.0 Security Edition SE. I would say upgrade, but you will understand why I don't say that when you are done reading this. That is assuming you don't get bored and fall asleep like my behind did.

New system. No big deal, AOL is pretty user friendly. I started at 8 am, and found the button to click for the new Security and Safety Center. SSC. It takes a few minutes, but I got it done. No virus scan. No, that won't do. I need virus protection. I might have an incredible immune system, but my computer probably doesn't. It needs all the help it can get. So I fiddled with it, redid it a few times, checked the McAfee stuff, got mad, let the dogs out, asked boy toy for advice, tried a few more tricks. No anti-virus.

So I went for the help information, and read all that. By that time it was maybe noon? By 1 pm I had Spumoni ice cream for lunch. It was that bad. I would have had chocolate, but I don't have any. I looked at Molly, and she ran under the bed. Baby is excused due to her low, well, you know, brain thing. The cat stuck her nose in the air, laughed at me, and went down for her 18 hour nap.

What to do? I went to the live help. That is always so much fun. I know English is a second language, so they used pre-programmed answers. Hello, my computer doesn't work. Oh, yes, I understand that your computer doesn't work. My dog just crapped on the rug. Oh, I am very sorry your dog crapped on the rug. Did you try to reboot it? I can't get the anti-virus to load. I am sorry you can't get the antivirus to load. Did you try crapping on the rug first?

I took all his advice with a grain of salt, but I did what he said. The trick was, I had to go offline to do it. Smart guy. He escaped. I did what he told me to do. He told me to go and uninstall the anti-virus program. He wasn't listening, was he? I don't have one. So of course, there was nothing there to uninstall. I told him that, among other things, it kept telling me that it was going to clean off Norton Anti-Virus and SP2 and Firewall from my computer. I understand that your dog crapped on the rug. Did you try to uninstall the crap?

Needless to say, I contacted a second tech. She was very nice. She was sure she could help me. She even gave me her email address in case her suggestion didn't work. Too bad she never read the email. She told me to follow a path and delete the two files at the end. I explained that I not only don't have the path, but the files she wanted me to delete were not in that folder. I also told her about the removal of Norton and firewall and SP2. Well , by that time it gave up on SP2. I guess I need to check to be sure I still have it.

I tried a few more times to uninstall, reinstall, delete, color over and crap on anything I could think of. I was doing all of this with the computer cord wrapped around my neck, or held at odd angles. My socket thingie into the motherboard or whatever it is is broken. Or something. I know it's expensive, so I am ignoring it, although right now I can't get a charge at all. Maybe if I close my left eye and put the cord under my right arm....

Next I contacted the third tech. This was after 8 hours of attempting to get my anti-virus protection back. I was as polite as I could be to the lady. I really was, and I think she understood my frustration. She told me I had to go to the Symantec site and use a utility removal of Norton or something like that. I get lost in technical terms, although it turns me on to hear them. She gave me a link, and I went slumming.

Did I mention that I had already made a thorough search for anything from Norton on my computer? I went to the add/remove section and looked. I went to the programs area and looked. I went to search and deleted anything that came up. Not good enough, the lady tells me. So I did the utility removal thingie and went back to the SSC. Besides, the SSC kept telling me it was going to remove the software. Liar.

I don't like the SSC. It is not nice to me. But after 9 hours, I got my anti-virus coverage back.

Now how do I get my 9 hours back?

Ode to a List

I often lament over being in a house too big for me. I also lament my ability to be neat. I am clean, but neat can pass me right by. It's some place under the pile on my kitchen table.

Some things I know almost by instinct where they are. I have been in this house for 30 years. I might keep things in odd places, but I can find them in a second. Swim fins I haven't used in 25 years? On the second set of shelves in the basement, third shelf from the top, next to the old hair dryer you can actually sit under. Extra car key? In the candle holder on the top shelf in the middle section of my main bathroom's medicine cabinet. Of course it's the key to my daughter's car that she doesn't have any more, but I know exactly where it is.

I usually figure I know exactly where something is or I have no idea at all. No idea at all is a Very Bad Thing in this house.

My Christmas list is hand written on a few pages of typewriter paper. I would say printer paper, but it's older than that. I reuse it every year, writing out all cards by hand, adding some names, deleting others. The last time I rewrote the list from scratch was maybe 15 years ago. My friends must be pretty stable. I always keep it on the top left cubby of my desk that is in the middle bedroom upstairs.

I just decided a few minutes ago that I need to get the list, get the cards out, and get this done today. The list is not where it belongs. I have some very, very vague, very faint recollection of moving that list, thinking, well, if I want to find this again, I will have to reorganize better. I will find it, but I don't know when. I hate it when I move things.

If you were expecting a card from me this year, it might be six months late. It will be winter in Australia then; we can pretend we went on a walkabout. My list sure did.

Quiet time

Yesterday my daughter and I had plans to "go shopping." That translates to: "Mom watches Child shop for herself while Child pretends to Christmas shop for others."

It was rather a typical day for us when we get together. First, we had to arrange a day when she got up before I went to bed. Keep in mind, I am a night person myself. Need someone to talk to at 1 am? I am up. However, Child is just going out for the evening at 1 am.

After we choose a day and she doesn't get called in to work or get a better offer, and I don't either, we try to agree on the time. She told me she would call me when she got up. So, around 11 am I went out to the grocery store, the library, and to the pet food store. I took my time, got everything I needed, and felt no need to rush. I didn't need to rush, either. She called around 3 pm. I asked her if she was ready, and she said she was up, but still had to get ready.

After that, we had to make arrangements for where we were going and who was driving. This sounds easy, doesn't it? I live close to one major mall, and she is closer to another. I actually wasn't enthused about going to a large mall the week before Christmas, and certainly not that late in the day. I don't work, I can easily avoid crowds. So she got ready while I drove to her apartment.

I hadn't been there before. She moved out of here, when, in the wintertime still? She has been there since maybe April? I waited for an invitation. It seemed the polite thing to do. The apartment looks very nice. It should. All her crap is in my basement, garage, and her former bedroom. After telling her how nice it looked, I reminded her that I am not a storage facility. She told me she didn't want to mess up her apartment. I growled. She backed off.

We went to the large mall near her place. I drove. We ate at the mall, then proceeded to shop. This mall is set up in an oval, approximately a mile per lap. Loop. Whatever. However, Child does not walk in a straight line. She has a homing device embedded some place that gravitates to scarves. Yes. Scarves. She had to observe and fondle every scarf in the entire mall. There must be 100 stores or more in there. I own one scarf for winter. It's cashmere and it keeps me warm, as is it's intended job. Child likes winter scarves for accessories. Whatever.

Eventually, I suggested she buy a scarf for everyone on her list, since she knew where they all were and what they feel like. She did not buy any scarves yesterday.

After a few hours of scarf-fondling, she bought one gift for one friend and we left that mall. We went back to her apartment after arguing over my route for driving to the other mall that is by my house. She wanted me to take the freeway because it was "faster." I said if she was interested in "fast," she should not have fondled all the scarves in the mall. She decided she wanted to take the freeway and had me drop her off so we could meet at the second mall.

Exactly. She would still have to wait for me, right? However, I was right behind her and we hit all the scarves in that mall. That is a very up scale mall, so she got to fondle all the cashmere and other much more expensive fibers. She bought one gift. It wasn't a scarf. She also bought some things for herself.

Finally, thankfully, the mall closed. We went into the restaurant where she works so we could have some drinks. I felt I deserved that - other than dinner, I hadn't opened my wallet. I wasn't shopping, I was just enjoying my daughter's company. The arguing was gratuitous and friendly. Really. No shots were fired. No blood was shed.

We had a few beers while her co-workers stopped by to pay their respects. One said he wished his mom would have beer with him. He figured the best he could get would be tea with his mom. Child and I spent the time after the alcohol hit our brains arguing over her totally not-expected wedding plans. She has no plans to marry, but we have opinions for when the time comes.

We also argued over, I mean discussed, my feelings about gifts. I do not get any pleasure at all from working with a demand list. If you are expecting a gift from me, do not hand me a list, alphabetized, with little pictures, directions to the stores, and prices. I do not work that way. I think gifts should be a surprise. I also want my gifts to be a surprise. Therefore, I do not announce what I want. Child was mad about that,so I did casually throw things into conversations yesterday, such as, "I cannot find my dark brown socks." "I sure do like White Stripe's music." "Eminem's new song is awesome." "I never did find a dark red shirt in a petite size. You know, I can't wear regular sizes." And on and on, the best I could come up with.

Meanwhile, she was again ogling my Prada bag. She wants it bad. She really, really wants that purse. Sadly, so do I. My stuff is in it, I bought it. It's mine. She waited until I was almost done with my second beer (I am a cheap drunk. It's why drinking only on occasion is a good thing.) and managed to almost get me to agree to let her "borrow" it.

Today I went online and ordered the last gift I need to buy this year. If it doesn't come in time, I will download a picture for her. It's not exactly like mine, but it's fairly close. I needed one more nice thing for her.

We were gone 8 hours, and walked 5 miles through malls. I don't mind walking malls when no one is in them, but walking scarf to scarf for about 6 hours is mind numbing. so is Tsing Tao beer, but in a much nicer way. I sat down for that.

Molly held her pee all those hours, too. That is impressive for a beagle taking Prednisone every day. We won't talk about Baby, but hey, she was just as happy to see me as Molly was anyway :)

 

******

Please keep Molly in your thoughts. I have to take her next week for her 25-day Percorten shot, which means a major seizure at the vet. I will be taking her in the back door this time, hoping some sort of change-up will stop the seizures. The medication didn't.