15 March 2008

Coffee, Stupidity, Insanity & Germs

Amazing, how she can write so much about coffee and the mundane moments within her domestic trivia. Go ahead and say it now and get it over with. I know you want to... Domestica (tm) is one of my subjects, because I'm a domestic sort. Or domesticated. In my domicile, independent and cut off from the outside world. Except for the Internet, which IS the world, really, so...notsamuch.

Anyhoo, moving on...My first sip of coffee today was too hot. I just burned the hair off my tongue. I hear you saying, "There is no hair on your tongue."

To which i respond, "Not Now!"

See, this happens frequently. You'd think I'd learn. The definition of stupidity is doing something the same way and expecting a different result. . .some say that's the definition of insanity, but I think it fits stupidity better. Insane people do much more interesting things, and sometimes I write about that too. But I don't consider myself either stupid or insane, so there has to be some other reason why I have burned my tongue on coffee more than once.

Masochism?
No. I don't like pain. I don't even like spankings when they're sexual. (Freak! stop hitting me! You're supposed to be trying to bring pleasure, fer chrissakes!!)

So the best explanation I can come up with, is that I'm forgetful. I think i wrote a blog about that before, but....not sure. Note to self: take more Ginkgo Biloba.

I'm uncertain as to how this current burning happened though. Maybe it had something to do with the release of heat from my cup since I put it in the microwave, because I cleaned the skin off the inside of it (residue from yesterday), and then imagined all the germs one can get from swishing around a sponge on a stick, after it has been swishing all over everything else in the kitchen...I was reminded of that compelling and oddly disturbing commercial where the housewife (sorry, Domestic Engineer) was gleefully wiping down her kitchen with a raw hindquarter of a chicken. Point taken. (Who says we are immune to advertising?)

So I put the mug in the microwave, soon followed by the sponge-on-a-stick and the dishcloth... because I read on Web M.D. that nuking wet sponges and dishcloths in the microwave for two minutes, destroys almost every germ known to woman--99%, according to the study. So of course, I had to put the coffee cup in the microwave too, since it had been contaminated by the germy dish- sponge- on- a-handle-acting as-a-raw-chicken-leg.

I swear my coffee tastes a little different than normal.
Less germy, maybe.

Still, my cup runneth over...into my mouth. Or onto the floor. I'm always spilling it...either way, time for refill. Or as I prefer to call it, another brain infusion.

----------------------
*Domestica (tm) is one of my past websites, which i intend to resurrect at some point in the near future.


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14 March 2008

Birthday Blows

(I wrote this on my birthday, yesterday, but didn't get it posted in time, as i was busy writing other posts and trying to get that random-text JavaScript to work. I welcome any JavaScript Gurus who might be able to tell me how to fix it. But here is the post, belated, as birthday recognition seems always to be):

I woke to the sound of leaf blowers, realizing March Madness, for me, isn't a basketball tournament, but a month signifying the beginning of the Condo Association's launch into landscaping and general outside maintenance.

So, the first leaf blowers have arrived. There were 6 of them. Like a posse. Those leaves had to go, and they were armed and already at it, summarily disrupting my common daytime slumber. What happened to the good old days of raking?

There are better uses for a leaf blower. I think prisoners ought to be punished by being put on crews that blow leaves, except don't give them a blower. They have to do it manually-- or...mouthily. That'll teach 'em to be lawbreakers! They'll be so dizzy, they won't be able to commit another crime.

So I'm up, now, ready to bitch-slap the Help.
Happy birthday to me.
:angry-spank:
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Impatience, M-Theory & the Nihilistic Abyss


It's a true sign of the times--the impatience that has us standing in front of the countdown of a microwave, shouting "Hurry up!"

Another version of this is jerking the
coffee carafe out before brewing is complete, so you can just get some in a cup.

For a while now, this societal impatience has been recognized by java Research and Development teams worldwide. One feature we enjoy in modern life is a coffeemaker with a stop-flow gadget so the coffee won't drip down onto the warming plate, like little hissing H-bombs in a very tropical Lilliputian1 village. It bakes in a coffee stain. Unsightly.

As lifestyles have changed to reflect the ever-growing age of technology and convenience, we have ironically become more and more inconvenienced by more and more things. We, as a species, are" running out of time." Or at least that's how it feels, even to me. I'm always saying "There isn't enough time"
though we all enjoy the same 24 hours, and they all still last 60 minutes each. The only exception to this might be M-Theory which postulates that there are other membranes next to us that we can't see, but are nonetheless there, and include variations on the existence we experience in our own time-space continuum. (You might visit this blog for an interesting presentation of this from an interesting doctor).

I explore some of these ideas in a novella I am currently writing (among others) called Quintessence. I am fascinated by the idea that there could be other realities we are not privy to, nor have the capacity to comprehend. As Shakespeare, my favorite bard, said, "There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."


Thus, in the only reality we know, our time-space continuum is for all intents and purposes, fixed, and so anytime a solution for time-wasting is developed, everyone has to have it. This is so that we can go about the business of living our lives with a self-serving delusion in place that will keep us from spiraling into the nihilistic abyss.

------------------------------------
1The Lilliputians, for those of you who missed that Lit class, were miniature people who lived in a village called Lilliput. I recommend this book by Jonathan Swift highly, as well as his story A Modest Proposal, which is a satirical solution to Ireland's famine in the 18th Century.

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Google Whore

I get around.
But only on the Internet. I assure you I am pure as the driven snow...and you know how pristine snow is, after it's been driven...

Periodically i do a Google on myself to see where I'm showing up and what my placement is for my books, and blogs and my various pages on jaebaeli.com. Today, my name appeared on 2,980 pages. Encouraging.

On one site, they were giving away my articles and short pieces, and i had to contact them and tell them to stop. I generally want to get paid for reprints.
Every now and then my name will end up on a site, and i have no idea why. I wasn't sure what this was about until i noticed the name. On a sports-talk site, one of my novels got mentioned...I wasn't sure why, until i realized that one of my characters shares a name with a hockey player, Dominic Fontaine.

This is one of the kickers. aIt was on some French site for a singer named Patricia Kaas. It's obviously gibberish, but i never thought of my name as GIBBERISH. Maybe someone out there can edify me about what the deal is with stuff like that.

Je te di vous | Patricia Kaas http://www. Amazing-cover-letters. Sometimes a can wait their turn Kelli Jae Baeli a variety of reasons. Story is best told Je te di vous | Patricia Kaas


This one was entertaining, but i think it was more gibberish.






Got a mention on Blogsbywomen.org:



And there's this one:

Look at that. I'm famous and i didn't even know!




And here was a pic of me i didn't even know existed--i was playing at my Guitar Bar "event" during Eureka Pride a few years ago.

Shiny.







And one of my books was on a wishlist by some chick in Trinidad.

Wonder if she's cute?


And this was on a Paramedic Insurance site. My book Achilles Forjan has two lead characters who are paramedics...
  • Press Release Tips and Template - PRWeb - Auto-Owners Insurance and the Demmer Corporation first Mid-Michigan organizations accepted into Scanlon Leadership Network ... Kelli Jae Baeli Announces Release of Genre-Bending Suspense Novel, "Achilles Forjan" A troubled paramedic struggles with ...

My article "Being Fully Human" was reprinted on Selfimprovementadvice website, too. They didn't think to ask for my permission either.

Ah well, as they say, all publicity is good publicity.


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13 March 2008

Coffee Skin

My coffee has a skin again.

I keep my mug on an old coffeemaker masquerading as a hot plate because I like my coffee to remain highly warm while I sip it
throughout my morning. And afternoon. And sometimes evening...depending on when i get up. Which is always a malleable enterprise for those with Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome. I also have Coining Of Nomenclature Syndrome (C.O.N.S.), except this time I'm not guilty of it. DSPS really exists. Although when i first saw the abbreviation, i thought it stood for -Dating & Sex Postal Service --this is how i intend to find my next girlfriend. When you are at home as much as i am, that's your only hope of seeing another human being. When she absolutely, positively, has to stay here overnight.
Where was I?

Oh, yeah. Skin.

If my coffee cup stays on the hot plate
too long, (as it should, since i am a serious writer who spends many hours slaving away at my clickety clacking)....then it inevitably gets a skin on it. Then I have to take a piece of coffee filter and dig the skin out before I refill.

If I were to visit a coffee shop and say "Give me a hazelnut with skin."

They would say "Skim milk?"


"No," I'd say. "Not SKIM. . ..SKIN."

They would, rightfully so, put me in the crazy category. Been there before, so it wouldn't be a stretch. I can do crazy very well, thank you.


I thought about trying to put something on top of that skin one time, to see how strong it was. . ..a paper clip, maybe. . ..wonder if it would sink, or ride there? Then I could drink, while staring at a buoyant paper clip. There would be no reason for this, other than my own twisted and absurd entertainment.

I refuse to let myself get bored.

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Drag Shows are Aptly Named


Drag shows are aptly named. They are a drag.

Please don't ever expect me to join you at a drag show. I'd sooner perform an appendectomy on myself with a SPOON. And I'm GAY.



All gay bars have drag shows, because apparently, gay people en masse don't have anything else to offer in the entertainment realm. (Notwithstanding the Melissa Etheridge's and Ellen Degeneres's of the world--thank god for them). I'm not expecting a rendition of Bent, but Hell's Bells. Can't they do better than a same tired old stereotypical thing where men and women dress up as women and men and pretend to have talent? Can you pretend to play that unplugged electric guitar any more convincingly? It strikes me as some puerile backyard presentation to mom and dad by a bunch of 7 year olds. "Mom! Mom! Look what *I* can do!"

I know I'm just ripe for an attack from the Homo Hit Squad, but damn! Is being politically correct more important than being honest? I will never understand why people don't want to reach for more in their expressions of selfhood.

And there's another added confusion--is it just me, or is there something inherently wrong with lesbians getting excited about a man, pretending to be a woman? (Like they don't KNOW that under the sequins and fishnet stockings, resides a live, pulsing penis). And the same goes for the drag KINGS. Why would i get excited about a woman pretending to be a man? If I were sexually aroused by a man, I'd be straight.


And have you ever noticed how the audience at drag shows will applaud when the "performer" hits a money-note in the song? Um...hello! He's not REALLY singing, so why are you applauding that? The recording of the REAL singer can't hear you. It's a case of either the willing suspension of disbelief, or the unwitting suspension of rational thought. Either way, something vital is being suspended, and i just find it absurd. I just won't support that crap anymore. I'd rather eat my own brains.


Okay, Homo-Hit-Squad, release the hounds. And you guys try not to break a nail.
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My Birthday Legacy Rumination



Today is my birthday. I'll be 44. (yes, i will! shut up!).
 

And since today is my birthday, I thought I'd do the obligatory ruminations. Who, what, where, when, and why...and how.

WHO: My big three identity markers are, Author, Artist, Singer-Songwriter. I'm also an avid blogger, a therapeutic touchist, a webmaster, an armchair philosopher, and....I like cheese.


WHAT: Fiction and non-fiction--I have 12 books in print with about 5 more available (I hope) by the end of this year. I like to paint, and do sculpture and pottery. I record CD's o
f my original music in my paltry home-studio, and give them away to those who want them, and some who don't. I am in the process of migrating my previous blog here to Blogspot/Blogger, and continue to write new blogs.


The therapeutic touching thing I don't do as often, partly because i don't have a girlfriend right now. (Any woman want me to massage warm oil all over you while you lie naked and trusting under a flannel sheet?)



And as soon as I get my kiln fixed, I'll be doing sculpture and pottery again. I've been saying that for a year. Something always gets in the way of that expense. Like...groceries, dammit.

WHERE: Everything I do, I do at home. Except Going out. That would be...um... not at home. But I spend an unhealthy amount of time by myself. Come over. We'll have some cheap blackberry merlot. And maybe if you're female and really hot, I'll therapeutically touch you.


WHEN: From the minute I wake, until my head is lolling into the keyboard, and I simply CAN'T make a higher score in that nightly damn Kyodai Mah Jongg game anymore.


WHY: why does anyone do anything? Two reasons, usually. Because they have to, or because they want to. If you're lucky (Like me) you get to do only what you want to. Although I don't want to pay bills, but I still have to. If I didn't, I wouldn't be able to do what I want to every day because it's hard to have stability when you live in your car. So while I don't WANT to do that, I HAVE to. (See? I have it rough, too). So bills. Necessary evil. Other than that, I'm pretty lucky. I get to do what I love everyday. Now if I could just figure out how to find a vampire so I can offer my one-year-older neck to her lovely fangs, and thus live forever... Christ on a cracker! I'd get SO MUCH DONE.



HOW: On a wing and a prayer (though I don't pray, unless something life-threatening is happening and I need to hedge my bets--so that's out); okay, HOW is with great determination. And skill. And amid way too many conversations with my cats.

So yes, I'm thankful that I'm here, and by extension, that I was BORN. (Though i wasn't born with extensions). Today commemorates that day. (Hazah! Hazah!). It's a time to look back on all I've accomplished, and get pissy about the things I haven't. I am often asked, with a measured degree of disdain, why I put so much of myself on the Internet. It's dangerous, they say. It's...maybe even...vain? No. Nothing so dramatic as that. My take on it is this: I must leave something behind that can be accessed by anyone who wishes to, or for anyone who is seeking some kindred, some validation, some encouragement, a pretty song, an enjoyable read, a thought-provoking or sensual piece of art, or a good laugh that sends Dr. Pepper through the nose. I put it all out there because it is my legacy.
 

The always inane and vacuous George W. Bush said, "There's no such thing as legacies. At least, there is a legacy, but I'll never see it.” He's wrong. And stupid. His legacy as the WORST PRESIDENT IN HISTORY will live on in the poverty and oppression of billions of people, (and many others in other countries)....but i don't want to talk about Dubya on my birthday. Stop ruining it, you gravy-sucking pig! (Here, hold this.) Anyway...I tried to find a more inspiring quote about a legacy, but there were few to be had. I suspect because those who might have recorded this bit of wisdom, found that they were already dead. And dead people don't jot down pithy quotations about having a legacy; even if you're one of those gifted few who "see dead people."




So i guess I'll never know what mine is, really. I just suspect it might have something to do with what I do every day. And I hope my legacy isn't posthumous. I'd like to know what it is before i croak.




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12 March 2008

Hissing Madagascar what?

In a "catching up" phone call with my friend Glenna, she mentioned that she has acquired some rather unusual pets. She has five hissing Madagascar roaches--all of them named "Paul." I am assuming she named them all the same because she can't tell them apart, but I forgot to ask, because I was too busy laughing.

Hailing from the island off the coast of Africa, The Madagascar Hissing Roach's claim to fame, (aside from its large size) I was surprised and humored to learn, was that the hissing they do originates in their....butt. Humans don't call that hissing. I'll leave that right there for you to fill in the blanks.

But apparently, having a hissing sound around the house is soothing to some people. I would prefer playing a Yanni CD or some crashing ocean surf, but that's just me.

According to Wikipedia, that bastion of answers to all of life's niggling questions,

"It has become a popular insect in Hollywood movies, featured prominently in Bug (1975) (as 'roaches who could set fires by rubbing their legs together), and in Damnation Alley (1977) (as post-nuclear-war mutant armor-plated "killer" cockroaches). Also, in Team America: World Police (a 2004 comedy film), a Madagascar hissing cockroach emerged from Kim Jong-Il's body after his death, entered a tiny spaceship, and flew away. Madagascar hissing cockroaches encrusted with Swarovski crystals have been used as necklaces and broaches, costing about $850 each. They have also had the privilege of being the driver of a cockroach-controlled mobile robot. It was also a popular bug to use in the reality television series Fear Factor. The species also made an appearance in the movie Men In Black in 1997. In September 2006, amusement park Six Flags Great America announced it would be granting unlimited line-jumping privileges for all rides to anyone who could eat a live Madagascar hissing cockroach as part of a Halloween-themed FrightFest. Furthermore, if a contestant managed to beat the previous world record (eating 36 cockroaches in 1 minute), he would receive season passes for four people during the 2007 season. This is a difficult record to break not only because cockroaches are disgusting or distasteful, but because raw cockroaches contain a mild neurotoxin that numbs the mouth and makes it difficult to swallow."

Now, while I don't imagine Glenna is keen on EATING her exoskeletal pets, she is nonetheless intrigued enough to make them a member of her family. I suppose she's taken the proper pains to provide them with suitable living quarters. (And since they are vegetarian, it is at least less barbaric than those cute little mice she fed to her snake).


Madagascan Hissers make their home in rotting logs, as most creepy crawly things do. If I had a "pet" like this--though I use the term loosely, as I don't see myself petting something like this, maybe because it doesn't have fur--I would be afraid it would escape the cage at night and wind up camping out on my forehead. I can't imagine having the presence of mind to not thump it halfway across the room in a fit of repulsion. Isn't that what we're supposed to do with large insects who are the only creatures capable of withstanding a nuclear holocaust?

I was afraid to ask the burning question of my friend, Glenna: "What is it that you like about having a four inch roach as a pet?" When she reads this blog, maybe she'll edify me, and I can post another installment regarding the Five Pauls.


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11 March 2008

Cheap Wine, Twinkies & Chick-O-Sticks



I like cheap wine.

I like it because it costs less, and because it doesn't have a cork. Corks have been notorious for wreaking havoc. Some have been known to cause temporary blindness, which is to be expected from a projectile made from the wood of a Portuguese oak tree.

And when I'm ready to have a glass of wine, i sure don't want to work harder for it than your average Puma. I realize that maybe if I didn't buy those cheap corkscrews, it wouldn't be so hard to open a wine bottle, but that's
beside the point. As for flavor, I prefer sweet berry wines. The cheap ones. Again. I've tried Dom Perignon, and hated it. Glorified seltzer, that is. It is insulting to spend that much on something that tasted awful to me. Appearances aren't worth the cash.

Some might accuse me of having an uneducated palate, but i didn't see the sense in sending my palate to school, that costs money too. Thus, I also like things like Twinkies and Chick-O-Sticks.
So my tastes are colored by an obvious and unwieldy poverty mentality. But I'd rather be poor and enjoy what I put in my mouth, than rich, and suffer through it. Especially for something as absurd as appearances.

So raise a glass with me: To cheap wine, Twinkies and Chick-O-Sticks!

:nah: I just dribbled cheap wine on my dirty T-Shirt.


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Female Heart Attacks

I received this in an email from a a friend and thought it was crucial that i post it, for reasons that will become obvious...read on...

-
Subject: Female heart attacks (not a joke)

Heads up, Ladies and those who have ladies they love!

You probably already knew this, but it's one of the better descriptions I've seen.

She said she didn't feel well and had a back ache and was going to lay down on the bed with the heating pad. A while later her husband went to check on her and she was not breathing. They were not able to revive her. This is something we women should definitely take seriously.
Please pass this on to those you love.

I was aware that female heart attacks are different, but this is the best description I've ever read .........

Women and heart attacks (Myocardial infarction).

Did you know that women rarely have the same dramatic symptoms that men have when experiencing heart attack...you know, the sudden stabbing pain in the chest, the cold sweat, grabbing the chest & dropping to the floor that we see in the movies? Here is the story of one woman's experience with a heart attack.

"I had a completely unexpected heart attack at about 10:30 PM with NO prior exertion, NO prior emotional trauma that one would suspect might've brought it on. I was sitting all snugly &warm on a cold evening, with my purring cat in my lap, reading an interesting story my friend had sent me, and actually thinking,"A-A-h, this is the life, all cozy and warm in my soft, cushy Lazy Boy with my feet propped up."

A moment later, I felt that awful sensation of indigestion, when you've been in a hurry and grabbed a bite of sandwich and washed it down with a dash of water, and that hurried bite seems to feel like you've swallowed a golf ball going down the esophagus in slow motion and it is most uncomfortable. You realize you shouldn't have gulped it down so fast and needed to chew it more thoroughly and this time drink a glass of water to hasten its progress down to the stomach.
This was my initial sensation---the only trouble was that I hadn't taken a bite of anything since about 5:00 p.m.

"After that had seemed to subside, the next sensation was like little squeezing motions that seemed to be racing up my SPINE (hindsight, it was probably my aorta spasiming), gaining speed as they continued racing up and under my sternum (breast bone, where one presses rhythmically when administering CPR). This fascinating process continued on into my throat and branched out into both jaws.

"AHA!! NOW I stopped puzzling about what was happening--we all have read and/or heard about pain in the jaws being one of the signals of an MI happening, haven't we? I said aloud to myself and the cat, "Dear God, I think I'm having a heart attack!" I lowered the foot rest, dumping the cat from my lap, started to take a step and fell on the floor instead. I thought to myself "If this is a heart attack, I shouldn't be walking into the next room where the phone is or anywhere else......but, on the other hand, if I don't, nobody will know that I need help, and if I wait any longer I may not be able to get up in moment"

I pulled myself up with the arms of the chair, walked slowly into the next room and dialed the Paramedics... I told the lady who answered that I thought I was having a heart attack due to the pressure building under the sternum and radiating into my jaws. I didn't feel hysterical or afraid, just stating the facts. She said she was sending the Paramedics over immediately, asked if the front door was near to me, and if so, to unbolt the door and then lie down on the floor where they could see me when they came in.

"I then lay down on the floor as instructed and lost consciousness, as I don't remember the medics coming in, their examination, lifting me onto a gurney or getting me into their ambulance, or hearing the call they made to St. Jude ER on the way, but I did briefly awaken when we arrived and saw that the Cardiologist was already there in his surgical blues and cap, helping the medics pull my stretcher out of the ambulance. He was bending over me asking questions (probably something like "Have you taken any medications?") but I couldn't make my mind interpret what he was saying, or form an answer, and nodded off again, not waking up until the Cardiologist and partner had already threaded the teeny angiogram balloon up my femoral artery into the aorta and into my heart where they installed 2 side by side stints to hold open my right coronary artery.

" I know it sounds like all my thinking and actions at home must have taken at least 20-30 minutes before calling the Paramedics, but actually it took perhaps 4-5 minutes before the call, and both the fire station and St. Jude are only minutes away from my home, and my Cardiologist was already to go to the OR in his scrubs and get going on restarting my heart (which had stopped somewhere between my arrival and the procedure) and installing the stints.

"Why have I written all of this to you with so much detail? Because I want all of you who are so important in my life to know what I learned first hand."

1. Be aware that something very different is happening in your body not the usual men's symptoms, but inexplicable things happening (until my sternum and jaws got into the act ). It is said that many more women than men die of their first (and last) MI because they didn't know they were having one, and commonly mistake it as indigestion, take some Maalox or other anti-heartburn preparation, and go to bed, hoping they'll feel better in the morning when they wake up....which doesn't happen.
My female friends, your symptoms might not be exactly like mine, so I advise you to call the Paramedics if ANYTHING is unpleasantly happening that you've not felt before. It is better to have a "false alarm" visitation than to risk your life guessing what it might be!

2. Note that I said "Call the Paramedics". Ladies, TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE!
Do NOT try to drive yourself to the ER--you're a hazard to others on the road, and so is your panicked husband who will be speeding and looking anxiously at what's happening with you instead of the road. Do NOT call your doctor--he doesn't know where you live and if it's at night you won't reach him anyway, and if it's daytime, his assistants (or answering service) will tell you to call the Paramedics. He doesn't carry the equipment in his car that you need to be saved! The Paramedics do, principally OXYGEN that you need ASAP. Your Dr. will be notified later.

3. Don't assume it couldn't be a heart attack because you have a normal cholesterol count. Research has discovered that a cholesterol elevated reading is rarely the cause of an MI (unless it's unbelievably high,and/or accompanied by high blood pressure.) MI's are usually caused by long-term stress and inflammation in the body, which dumps all sorts of deadly hormones into your system to sludge things up in there.
Pain in the jaw can wake you from a sound sleep. Let's be careful and be aware. The more we know, the better chance we could survive...

A cardiologist says if everyone who gets this mail sends it to 10 people, you can be sure that we'll save at least one life.

Please be a true friend and send this article to all your friends you care about.
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09 March 2008

Slippity Doo Dah

(or, "I Don't Love my OTHER Shoes")

I've always known that certain footwear was dangerous. The most common culprit in my mind is the high heel-pump-stiletto family of shoes. Aside from the usual hazard of balancing on something so precarious as a shoe with a peg under it (although Pirate-amputees seemed to have mastered it), or in the case of a stiletto, (essentially walking on a PENCIL), there is a profound discomfort to be had in the awkward position of the foot, and the disfiguration that takes place as a woman gets older while partaking of this footwear. Have you looked at 50 or 60 year old woman's foot after she's worn high heels her whole life? It looks like pointy shoes with skin on it, or like her feet have been stricken with a genetic defect.
It is beyond comprehension that a woman will do this to herself, of
ten only to make her legs look attractive for men. Not only is it a health hazard for what it does to one's knees, but it doesn't allow a woman to run...and i feel that this is something that women ought to be able to do, for many reasons, which i won't get into here.

But, regardless, I was convinced that a MAN invented the high heel, and as i Googled it to find out, i discovered that this was true, but they invented them for MEN. It seems they needed a shoe that wouldn't slip in the stirrups while riding horseback. Then the style became more of a fashion statement for royalty in the 1500's. Then a female member of royalty adopted the style and women began to wear heels after that. Women discovered that wearing heels made their gate and calves more alluring and s
ensualized...for the benefit of admiring males.

But even high hells have nothing on the footwear that graces the tootsies of homebodies nation-wide. Nothing is more treacherous than that unassuming pair of footwear that can be found in every household…often they exude comfort, they are the very essence of comfort and repose, but secretly, this footwear is an accident waiting to happen.

I speak of the open heeled house slipper. They don't call it a "slipper" for nothing. Don't be fooled
by the padded faux lambs wool, and the cushiness of its sole. Any number of things can go awry with these hideous houseshoes, these sinister slippers. There is absolutely nothing holding them on your feet except your good intentions. You can be taking a step and one of them will slip off, fold over, and crinkle your toes. They can slide off kilter and make you twist your ankle; it's even worse if you're on uneven terrain. Many homes are one-level, and one can scoot along without lifting one's feet, enjoying the gleeful combination of static electricity and unsuspecting cats, (Here kitty kitty…ZZZZZAP!) but this just lulls you into a false sense of security. For eventually, you will lift a foot and it will all be over. You'll find yourself stumbling, mashing the cat's tail, dropping your fresh cup of coffee, banging your head on a railing and cracking every toe-knuckle you have. And squishing your cream cheese bagel into your right ear. It can be even worse than that.

For instance, I am writing this at the foot of my staircase.


I'm going to need a few more minutes before attempting to get up. And when I do, I'm going to put on some sneakers, and use my open-heeled house slippers as cat toys. Maybe they can put their little arms inside them when the basement gets too chilly. Or maybe I'll put them in my lap and use them for hand warmers, myself. But they will never again go on my feet. Especially not right now, since I can't bend over without aggravating those seven slipped discs in my back.

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Zipped Off


okay this is funny.

Since getting a new computer and transferring all my files, i am still trying to install the software that i use, as i come across a need for it again.

I needed to unzip a certain program file, so i went online to search for freeware. I found a highly praised compression utility, and when i selected to download it, the install file was ZIPPED.

Now, maybe they were just not thinking out of the box, but how am i supposed to unzip their unzip program, if I'm downloading it because i need a zip program?

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07 March 2008

The Hunter Conundrum


As writers and lifetime curious learners, Justice Harlow and I often have discussions about human nature and what-if scenarios. She proposed this one, and neither of us have been able to come up with a clever solution. Maybe there isn't one. Maybe it's also about defining what "Solution" means.

This is a delicious dilemma, because it's so hard to decide how to choose....

This situation comes up a lot when women are hunting in the woods...if they are alone or separated from those they know. (thats why you have to dress like a man when you hunt).

:thinking3:

THE HUNTER'S CONUNDRUM

You are a female hunter in the "deer woods"--perched in a deer stand. Another male hunter is there, on the ground, and he keeps approaching, talking to you in a flirtatious way, suggesting the two of you engage in sexual activity.

He has made no overt threats, but you have an overwhelming feeling that he is dangerous. He says "There's no one out here but us...no one would ever know...Come on down, I'm not gonna hurt you--" and even fires his gun as if you will find this amusing.

He continues to try to get you to come down from the stand as you consider your options.

You know his gun is loaded because he fired it. Yours is loaded too.

You have no cell phone.

You are alone, isolated, a hour's walk from your vehicle. There have been no other hunters the entire time.

I
t's nearing dark, and the temperature is dropping. You had not planned to stay the night in the woods, and have no means to do so; you cannot remain in the deer stand, nor wait it out in any way, or you will risk frostbite or worse, freezing to death--the temperature will be dropping to 7 degrees.

You have to get out of that tree stand to get home. He has not left yet. He is still wandering around below, still making overt sexual overtures to you.

You are running out of daylight.

His advances escalate. He's like a dog with a bone and he seems more and more sinister with each passing moment.

In order to climb down, you have to shoulder your weapon...
he could do anything, no one out there to know. He was right about that. But "anything" might not be consensual. Your life could be in danger, your safety could be threatened in the very least. Yet you have no proof of that. He has said nothing directly threatening.

You know that any woman who has ever been in a situation where she is at the mercy of a potentially dangerous man, can attest to what happens in her head....the profound fear that wraps itself around your throat like the talons of some demon....

Frightened, You consider your options....

  • You could shoulder your weapon, climb down and attempt to walk out of the woods regardless, taking the chance that he will not harm you. But, you understand that there is every possibility that he could shoot you, attack you, rape you, do anything he wants to you for as long as he wants, and you couldn't stop him. No one would know, and there would be no witnesses.
  • You could shoot him in a non-lethal way. But then you'd have to deal with not only having shot a person who may or may not have been a real threat to you, but you wouldn't want him to bleed to death--you only want to get away from him safely. You'd have to get him help or otherwise get him out of the woods. And there's no guarantee that when you do wound him, he won't shoot you back in self-defense. You're a sitting duck in your position in the deer stand. HE can attempt to dodge a bullet and hide behind trees---you can't. But even if he doesn't return fire, or can't, somehow, and you do wound him, and then get him help, he could say, "that crazy bitch shot me!" and then you'll be arrested for attempted murder.
  • You could shoot with a kill shot. No one knows where you are. No one would know who did it. You could then walk safely out of those woods and he would be found and everyone would think it was the usual unfortunate hunting accident, because he was shot with a common hunting caliber. Police could not connect the bullet to your gun because no one signs in and out of the deer woods, and there is no record of you having been there. You didn't even tell anyone you were going. But you're not even sure you can kill someone at all, much less, while knowing that they may not be an authentic threat to you.
  • You could shoot him, report it to the police immediately afterward, and even say that he threatened to rape you as soon as you got down from the deer stand--even though you know he DIDN'T. (You know you'd probably have to say that to save your own skin, and knowing that he placed you in such a position that you had to think of your own well-being rather than his). It could be proven that he discharged his weapon, after all. Yet, that's not unusual in the deer woods. So he could completely contradict your story. He could make up some crazy story--say he bought you a drink in a bar one night, and you were insulted or whatever, and say you were waiting for him to walk by and you shot him.
  • You could stay in the tree stand all night long, and risk frostbite or freezing to death. You'd take the chance he could shoot you. But you could also freeze to death because the temp is about 7 degrees at night.
  • You could warn him to go away since you feel threathened by him, and that if he doesn't you will shoot him. He might go away. But he could hide and get you later. He could also decide HE is threatened by YOU, and shoot you. You would not be able to do anything but try to shoot back before he killed you. He could escape into the woods and sniper shoot you.

If you decide to kill him, you are killing someone because you are afraid of what his intentions MIGHT be.

Is it ok to kill someone because they may POSSIBLY intend to kill you or rape you?

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

:headbang:
------------

My response:
If i could have gone into that situation with a concussive device that would render someone unconscious from a distance, that would be the only good solution....(perhaps someone needs to market a device like that for women hunters.....but for the purpose of this scenario, i probably wouldn't have that device).

So....the decision is still almost impossible to make. This is a situation where antagonist and protagonist, if you will, are both equally armed and have no other options for defense. If i TRULY felt he was dangerous to me, i would probably be secretly poised to shoot, engage him in confrontational conversation, hoping to provoke him to say something that was sinister enough for me to feel justified. I would have to have a high degree of fear to kill someone i wasn't sure was threatening me....Then, when he said just the wrong thing, i suppose i would have to shoot him in the head.)

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