End of the Year Warm Fuzzies

Hey, Friends.

It's the end of the year, and everyone is doing their reflections back on the last twelve months. Maybe it's already 2016 where you live.  How's the year look so far?  Good, good.

I just wanted to say a quick thank to all of you, Friends, for sticking with me and actually reading my ramblings here.  It is very appreciated.  It also means I'm not just talking to myself, which is awesome.

I don't look at the stats that Blogger provides very often because they can be very surprising, and basically lead to more questions.  I do like to look at the "audience" stats though, just to see who is reading.  (They are also far less strange and confusing than trying to figure out how a particular search term brought people here.)

Friends, we have a become a little family with readers worldwide!  Doesn't that just warm the cockles of your heart?  This little thing, which started out as basically only being read by a few close friends and family, is now being read all over the place!  We aren't huge and about to take over the internet by storm -- that's crazy talk -- but we are growing, and I owe it all to you.

So I just want to take a minute and say thank you and I love to you to my Friends in:

The United States
Brunei
Russia
France
Germany
Latvia
Portugal
The United Kingdom
Poland
Romania

If you aren't listed, I'm sorry and I love you too.  Blogger only gives me so much data.  Or maybe you are just a ninja at flying under the radar, so stealthy that your tracks to my blog are undetectable.

And for those of you dying of curiosity....the post that got read the most this year? Thug Squirrels.

Yeah.

I don't know what that says about us, Friends.

The second most popular post was about my epic battle with a spider in my shower.

Kind of makes my year seem like it was filled with weird wildlife issues....which I guess is kind of true.  At least my issues with Mother Nature and her creatures provided some amusement.

Thanks for reading, Friends.  I hope you all have a 2016 full of love, happiness, and good health!

I'll catch you on the flip side.

Can You Hear It?

Hey, Friends.

I love music.  Not a big declaration, I realize, as I don't know anyone who doesn't at least appreciate music. I think I need to share some backstory in the hopes that this will all make a bit more sense.

When I was in kindergarten, my elementary school music teacher let me start playing the recorder with the "big kids".  I was the only one who got to do it.  I'm not sure what she saw in me that said I should do it, but I loved it.  I thought I was so cool.

When we got older and got to pick out a "real" instrument to play, I chose the flute.  Why?  Because of this:

At some point I had seen James Galway play this song on television, and I was fascinated.   My parents even got me one of his albums so I could listen to it around the house.  I played the flute and sang in chorus all through elementary school.

Once we got to Middle School, however, you kind of had to pick a side.  You couldn't (or at least not with my schedule) do both band and chorus, so I chose band.  I was in the band all through Middle School and High School.  I joined the marching band in high school and ended up playing the piccolo in it, as well as in the concert band.  I took private lessons, went to NYSSMA -- I was a total flute geek.

I think it was back in sixth or seventh grade, everyone had to take a basic music appreciation type of class -- even if you were already in the band.  You had to learn the basics of how to read music (there were a lot of kids who didn't play an instrument and didn't know how), and I remember we had to learn on a paper print-out of a keyboard where the notes were located.  It sounds silly, but I always thought the most helpful part of that whole class was the paper keyboard.  I never took piano lessons, but after that I knew where the notes were on a real piano or keyboard.  My parents got me a little Casio electric keyboard, and I would amuse myself for hours, trying to play sheet music for my flute on the keyboard, or picking out tunes by ear from songs I had heard.  It was a very exciting life I led in Middle School.

Friends, you know how when you go bowling, and you do a really terrible job of aiming the bowling ball?  I find myself standing at the lane, waving my arm in the direction I want the ball to go, like I am going to magically correct my shitty aim with the power of my mind.  You can deny it, but I know I'm not the only one who does that.  I've seen other people trying to do the same thing. 

 I do something similar when I hear someone attempting to sing, and they are not quite reaching the notes.  My mother and I took my niece and nephew to a concert in the park one summer, near the Fourth of July.  It was a full concert band with a featured female singer.  The kids weren't paying the slightest bit of attention, running around and having a great time.  My mother and I were listening to the concert.  The band itself was great.  The singer?  Not so much.  I figured the first song wasn't so hot because of nerves -- there were a lot of people there to watch.  After two more songs?  I'm convinced this woman either can't actually sing, or she is somehow not remotely hearing the music from the full concert band directly behind her.  Most of it was okay, but when she would try for the big dramatic notes?  Ouch.  She would warble around the note -- flat, then sharp, sliding all around it without ever successfully landing on the note where she was meant to be.  People would clap and say how good she did. No.  No clapping for you!  You are literally making my ears twitch.  She would go for a big, long, dramatic note and I would find myself squinting my eye and tilting my head, as if I could will her to get just that little bit less flat and nail it, or as if tipping my one ear higher into the air would somehow make her voice that little bit higher and on pitch.  That was the most painful concert I have ever been forced to sit through.  (There were fireworks afterward, so totally had to stay for those or I would have bailed early on.)

I do have a point to this entire ramble that you just read, promise.  

I have this thing that happens at fairly often.  I don't know what you would call it, in all fairness.  It's not really a talent.  I don't know that it's a personality trait or quirk either.  It's just a thing. Sometimes I hear a song, and it usually happens the first time I hear it, and it immediately makes me think of another song.  I'm not talking about the songs with obvious samples in it that the artist pretty much expects people to recognize.  It's something different, and it's not always the same thing. Maybe it's the melody, or the bass line.  Some visceral, ephemeral thing about that song immediate connects it to another song in my brain.  

This is where you come in, Friends.  

I've tried pointing these out to friends and family who I know listen to a wide range of music, hoping they hear it too.  Most of the time I get a responses like, "No. They sound nothing alike.  How did you even come up with that?" or "You're crazy. They are completely different."  Once in a while I'll get a, "They do sound a little similar. Maybe it was the same writer or producer or something."  Maybe those people are just more polite and don't want to hurt my feelings.  Very, very rarely will anyone ever agree with me.

Friends, I want to give you three examples.  Let's start with the one that I could find absolutely no one to agree with me on, shall we?  

First up:  E-Pro by Beck and So What Cha Want by the Beastie Boys.  When I first heard E-Pro, I was immediately reminded of the Beastie Boys.  No one else seems to make the same connection. Tell me I'm not alone on this, please?

Example number two:

E.T. by Katy Perry and All The Things She Said by t.A.T.u. -- This one wasn't immediate.  I had heard the Katy Perry song numerous times without making the connection.  I hadn't heard the t.A.T.u. song in a long time, and it wasn't until I heard it on Pandora (Maybe? Either that or the regular radio) that something in my brain clicked and linked the two together.  I found one person who would agree with me that they sounded kind of similar.

Example Three:

This one just happened yesterday morning, as I was scraping ice off of my car.  A neighbor somewhere had music playing loudly, but it was muffled and at a distance -- like it was coming from inside their house, or in a running car with all of the doors and windows shut.  I was enjoying it, but when they opened the door/window/whatever-they-did and it got louder, I realized it was a completely different song than I thought.  I had never heard the song they were playing before, so I Shazam-ed it (yes, I'm using Shazam as a verb.  Deal with it.) on my phone.  I haven't told anyone about this latest bit of musical madness in my brain, so you get to be in on the ground floor, Friends.

This is the song that, it turns out, was actually playing.  I had never heard this before, although I have heard of the band.  I know they're really popular.  I don't live under a rock.  I just haven't actively sought out any of their music to listen to yet.

Hey Everybody!  by 5 Seconds of Summer

And here is the song that I thought I had been hearing:

Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran

They sound really similar, right?  That's not just some weird shit going on in my brain. Tell me you can hear it, Friends. Or tell me I'm totally cracked in the head. Tell me I should just keep all my strange little musical moments to myself as no else gets them.  

Tell me anything, Friends.  There's got to be at least one other person out there somewhere who gets where I'm coming from with these.  I refuse to believe I am the only one who gets these little connections when they hear music.

In Which My Cat Might Be an Evil Genius

Hey Friends.

A while ago -- like two and a half years worth of a while ago -- I introduced you all to my cat Jazmine, also known as Jazz-kitty or Jazzie.  You can read about her here.

Isn't she cute?  Doesn't look like the face of a (potentially) evil, technologically-gifted genius.  

I already knew that given the right conditions Jazz-kitty was fully capable of taking a selfie.  She might actually be better at it than I am, which is sad.  She knows the sound my iPhone makes when I get a text and will look around for it.  For a cat she is a very tech-savvy little girl, and that's why I shouldn't really be so surprised by what she managed to pull off on Tuesday morning.

I had the day off on Tuesday since I have to work this Saturday.  (Boo!  Still not happy about working 3 weekends in a row.)  Normally when I have a day off I turn my phone to "silent" before I go to bed because I really want to sleep in.  That lesson was learned when I was on vacation visiting my family in Texas a few years ago and I got a text at an ungodly hour of the morning to tell me the library was closed for the day due to a storm -- like I really cared when I was on vacation.

Back to my point....

Normally I turn the phone to "silent", and it shut it in the drawer of my bedside table with my car keys.  Why?  I live alone.  In my warped little brain, it makes total sense to keep those things close at night.  If someone were to break in I could grab those things, try to grab the cats, jump out one of the bedroom windows, and still be able to call the police and/or get away in my car.  (Yeah.  I make plans for this shit.  Helps me to sleep at night.  No judging.)

As I was coming off working six days straight, I wasn't paying my normal attention when I went to bed Monday night.  Between work and the holidays I was exhausted.  I can't really place all of the blame on Jazz-kitty for being an evil genius because I screwed up and left the potential for the situation to happen.

Tuesday morning, at 5:42 am, I woke up to this blaring out of my phone.

I never thought Harry Belafonte would scare the shit out of me

Friends, you know that moment when you are startled from sleep, and your heart is racing and you think you could possibly have a heart attack?  Your brain is all fuzzy, and it takes you a moment to even realize where you are before you can even contemplate what the hell is going on?  Add to that the fact that I didn't have my glasses on or my contacts in, since I had been sleeping, and it was a blurry world of adrenaline-fueled confusion.

Where was the music coming from, and how was this even happening?  My only clue was the Jazz-kitty shaped outline in the dark, leaping from the top of the bedside table and bolting out of the room.  I probably scared her when I suddenly woke up and sat up in bed.  Of course, she also does that when she knows she is about to be busted for doing something naughty -- like knocking everything off the top of a book shelf because she feels she is not getting enough attention.  She loves to move things -- especially shiny, pretty things -- which is why the phone gets shut away.  

Where is Harry Belafonte coming from, and how do I make him stop singing!

Screw putting on glasses.  I just want to go back to sleep.  I has to be somewhere nearby because it is loud.

My first thought was my Kindle Fire, since I had been using it before I went to sleep.  Nope.  Screen is black and it is totally silent.

Well, it obviously isn't my alarm clock because I did not turn that thing on, and it would have made the wretched, much-hated beeping noise anyway.

It had to be my phone.  But how....

And then I noticed that the drawer that I put my phone in was not closed all the way.  It was open a few inches -- just enough for the screen of my phone to be visible.

Now, I can't swear that this is what happened, Friends, since I had been asleep, but this is the theory I have developed based on the context clues.

-- I made some mistakes.  I did not turn the phone to "silent".  I also must not have shut the drawer with the phone in it all the way.

-- Jazz-kitty has a deep and abiding fascination with my phone.  If it is left unattended she will touch it and move it given the chance.  It is shiny, and lights up, and vibrates, and makes noises.  She could also be the poster-child for the saying "curiosity killed the cat".  Have you had to pluck your cat off the top of a curtain rod she was using as a balance beam while watching birds outside?  I have.

--  I got several notifications that came through on my phone while I was asleep.  While they might have been silent (or at least not loud enough to wake me) they would make the face of the phone light up.

--  Jazz-kitty either heard the notifications, or saw the glow of the light coming out of the drawer since the room was dark.  Being a nosey-posey, she went to investigate.  Extra exciting because it was coming from the "Drawer of Things She Shouldn't Be Touching".

The next part has me a bit stymied, and it is where the Evil Technological Genius factor comes into play.

-- I have a passcode on my phone.  It locks after a minute.  It had been hours since I last used the phone.  Even if she tapped on a notification, it would still need the code.  That means she somehow managed to bypass the lock, find the music, and randomly get it to start playing a song.  How the hell is that even possible?

And that's where my theory runs out.  

The only other thing I've found to explain it is this. (Thanks, Google!)  Now, I have an iPhone 4s, but maybe the same thing could happen?  I've never had it spontaneously start playing music before, but I suppose if a curious Jazz-kitty shook it around enough it could do it.

Or it could be Apple's way of telling me I really need to update my phone.

Or my phone is possessed.  There's probably a reason the previous home owner left rosaries hanging in the cellar.  I don't know what kind of bad juju they are keeping at bay, but I have left them right where they are.

Keep up the good work!

So I'm going with Jazz-kitty being a tech-genius.  That's far less disturbing than some of the other possibilities.  (And I really love my phone, and I'm hoping this isn't a sign that it is on its last legs.) 

     

Even I Can't Believe That Happened: A Library Story

Hey Friends.

As you might recall, I work in a public library.  I've worked there quite a while now, and in that time I have seen my fair share of the weird, scary, disgusting, and just plain disturbing things that patrons can -- and will-- do.  It takes a lot to surprise me at this point.  (Need a refresher on how things go in Library Land?  You can click on the library tag to see the relevant posts, or just click here for an entry that sums it up quite nicely.)

I know people automatically assume, "But what could possibly happen in a library?  They are such nice, quiet places." They also assume that everyone who works there is a little old lady in their 80s, hair in a bun, cardigan and pearls on point. That all we do is sit around reading books all day, drinking tea and discussing Downton Abbey, and simply live for  harassing the patrons and telling them to "Shh!". Nothing could be further from the truth.  Well, at least in the libraries where I work.  Don't believe the stereotype!

Back to my point...

I was working today, and I was happy to see one of our regular patrons come in.  She's a very nice lady.  She likes to chat with the staff and exchange recommendations on movies, books, artists -- all things pop culture.  She's been around long enough to have seen some of our more....how can I say this nicely?....interesting and unique patrons at their worst.  She has been unfortunate enough to have had personal interaction with some of our more reality-challenged patrons.  She is familiar with the library and her fellow patrons.

So when she came up to me at the circulation desk this afternoon I was expecting a nice chat to break up the day.

I was not expecting her to open with, "Did you know there is a man outside eating the pine tree on the front lawn?"

What?!

If it had been a patron I didn't know too well, I might have assumed they were exaggerating, or they were pulling a prank, or were among the more "reality-challenged" members of society. This lady would not be mentioning it unless things had really taken a turn towards Weirdsville.

Yeah. I made her repeat it because I was really thought I must have misheard her the first time.

"There's a man outside, and he's eating your pine tree.  I watched him pick off the needles and the sap and then eat it."

What. The. Fuck.

So she gives me the whole story:

She was walking toward the entrance of the building, and she sees this man on the lawn looking at the pine tree.  At first she thought he must be examining the berries or something, or was trying to figure out what type of tree it was.  She was actually going to go over and talk to him, tell him he should go to Vanderbilt Mansion if he is interested in trees because they have them all labeled and the park officers would probably have helpful information.  Then she realized that there were no berries on that tree.  She kept looking, and she saw that he was actually picking off the needles and sap and eating it.  She decided not to talk to him, and came straight inside to tell me.

Fantastic.  And here I thought today might be boring.

I told her that it was good that she came inside -- sometimes the best course of action is simply not to engage.

And then I wondered, is that stuff poisonous?

Am I going to find a man down out in the parking lot?

They use pine pitch to glue stuff together, patch holes in boats, make torches and fire starters.  I've never heard of someone ingesting it.  I could see the tree in question from where I was standing, and the man had already wandered off at that point.

Why the hell would anyone think it was a good idea to snack on a pine tree?  Even if you know nothing about trees, you damn well can tell the difference between a "Christmas"-type tree and a maple tree.  I'm not expecting everyone to be a botanist, but at some point you have to have seen the Canadian flag and should know what a frigging maple leaf looks like.

Hi, Canada!

You cannot magically suck maple syrup out of a pine tree, people.  I really didn't think that would ever be something that needed to be explained.

We continued to discuss just what the heck this guy could have been trying to do for a few minutes, and then it got busy and I had to help other patrons.  She did make sure to tell me exactly what time it was that she came in, and asked if we had security cameras on the front of the building.  I wasn't sure if we did, but told her I would find out.  I think she was really hoping that maybe the guy hadn't really been eating the tree, and that it just looked like it from her viewpoint.

As I was leaving for lunch our security officer was coming in for his shift.  He confirmed that we do have cameras on the front of the building, and then I told him we were going to have to review the footage because a patron reported that there was a guy eating the pine tree on the front lawn.  I'm pretty sure he thought I was kidding.

(I did do a quick drive through the parking lot before leaving for lunch, just to make sure there wasn't a guy face-down in the parking lot from eating the tree. Thankfully there was not, and the paramedics did not need to be called.)

I get back from lunch, and Security cues up the camera footage.

Right on the time the patron reported, you see a guy in a blue jacket wander out of the library and across the lawn toward the pine tree.

Here comes our patron, headed toward the building.  You can see her pause -- that must have been when she was considering going over and talking to the guy.

Next you clearly see him plucking things off the tree, looking around to see if anyone is watching, and stuffing them in his mouth.  The lady who reported the weirdness keeps heading toward the building.  Guy does it again, and then wanders off across the lawn toward the parking lot.

I'm pretty sure both of us looking at the footage were amazed.  I mean, I knew the lady who reported the story wouldn't make something like that up, but seeing it was just bizarre.  The guy looked around to see if anyone was watching!  He knew it was not normal to be eating the pine tree on the library's lawn.  

What do you do with this information?  I didn't even bother to do a report.  How the hell do you explain that a guy just ate the pine tree on the front lawn?

I did make sure to tell one person, however.  One of our Administrators officially retired yesterday.  She happened to come in this afternoon to make sure her office was nice and clean for the person who will be moving into it.  I told her the whole story.  I prefaced it with, "So, I know you've been retired for less than 24 hours, but let me tell you what you've already missed."

I'm pretty sure I made her a lot happier about having retired.  She can just laugh about it, and then go home.  

Friends, the next time someone tells you the library is boring?  Do me a favor and tell them how wrong they are.  Thanks.

A Brief Public Service Announcement

Dear Parents of the World,

Are you considering bringing a small herd of  8 or 9 year old boys to the new Star Wars movie?

You are brave souls.

I'm going to share some thoughts after my experience at the movie this evening. Think of it as "learning opportunities" on how not to piss off your fellow movie-goers. Maybe you don't need them.  Maybe your kids are perfect angels who would never do anything wrong.  I don't know that it will be at all helpful to anyone, really, but it's worth a shot.

**I know parents just love getting unsolicited advice on what to do with their children, especially from people who don't have kids of their own.**

--We all understand that they are children, and they are super excited to see the movie.  We're all excited too.  We are totally willing to cut them some slack on noise due to excitement.

-- Please sit remotely near your group of kids so that you can rein them back in if/when they totally lose their minds.

-- Getting there super early might not be the best idea.  I know, I know, you have to get lots of seats all together.  But 4 hours of sitting still is not necessarily a strong point for that age group.  (I'm judging this solely on my nephew who sometimes needs to just run and burn off some energy.)

-- When the person in front of one of your young charges keeps turning around and glaring at the kid? There's a problem that needs to be addressed.  FYI: kicking the back of the seat in front of you for hours is not cool.  You need to nip that shit in the bud.

-- Not giving any spoilers, but when a kid starts crying?  You need to help them out a bit.

-- When multiple people are turning around to look at the kids?  There is definitely a problem.  And yes, I did finally tell them to shut up after two hours and their running commentary getting progressively louder as time went on.

-- When attempting to gather your charges to leave the theater, don't block the exit.  

-- When one of your charges bangs into another person and almost knocks them over?  You need to apologize, not pretend it didn't happen.  It should not be a totally different kid (who managed to make it down the stairs) who starts apologizing to everyone for his friends being pushy.  

I'm not saying they were bad kids, just really into the movie and super excited.  It was kind of cute at times.  I'm sure it's how they act when watching a movie at home and they just forgot that there were other people around.  

To the parents of the group that was seated in the row behind us tonight:

Good luck with the rest of your evening, especially if you are having a sleepover.  Those boys were super excited, and it looked like you had a mix of really amped kids and those who were obviously ready for bed and getting a touch cranky.  I wish you the best in getting any sleep tonight, and I hope you had the foresight to limit them to drinking non-caffeinated  beverages.  (I speak from experience on that one.  Also, the sugar crash can get ugly.)

Because My Book Group Is Awesome

Hey Friends.

When I first started running a book group at work a couple years ago, we weren't originally going to meet during the month of December.  Normally there isn't that much programming that month because attendance is down due to the holidays.  My book group, rebels that they are, decided that they wanted to meet anyway, and so that first year we chose Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris to discuss.  

Last year, knowing we would be meeting in December, I chose the book The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror by Christopher Moore.  I also decorated appropriately.

Nothing says Christmas like zombies and candy canes

For those of you just joining us (or those with better things to remember than my ramblings), I always try to tie together the book with the decorations and refreshments that I'll be serving.  It's easy enough when the book mentions food, but sometimes it gets a bit tricky.  You can find an example here from when I made little sinking Titanics on cupcakes for our discussion of A Night to Remember by Walter Lord.  

You see, Friends, I don't really care if people have actually bothered to read the book for book group.  That is probably some horrible sin the world of book groups, but I don't care.  We tend to get sidetracked off on tangents at times, so anyone can join in.  I don't care if people only show up to eat whatever wacky food I decided worked with the book.  More people = more fun, and I want butts in the chairs.  I don't want attendance to be so low that the Powers That Be decide to cancel our monthly soirees.

This year, we decided to read Skipping Christmas by John Grisham.  You may be familiar with the movie Christmas With the Kranks that was made from the book.

At first I was thinking some sort of Christmas/tropical hybrid scheme -- somehow involving pineapple.  I don't know why, but I was convinced pineapple needed to be in the mix somehow.  That plan went by the wayside when I made a discovery in my kitchen.

Have you ever tucked something away in a "safe place" and then had that place turn out to be so safe that you forgot you even owned the thing you tucked away?  I was going through my kitchen cupboards when I found a gift a couple of friends had given me over a year ago:  Gingerdead Men.

How could I have forgotten I owned something so epic?

Forget the pineapple!  I didn't know what else I was going to do, but these were totally happening.

I ended up with kind of an odd Christmas-Tropical-Cocktail Party vibe, but because my book group is awesome they went right along with it and enjoyed it.

I know you are just dying to see what I came up with, Friends, so let me put you out of your misery.

Gingerdead Men and gingerbread cookies

Cheese and crackers for that cocktail party vibe.  That's honey smoked ham, which they mentioned several times in the book the Kranks were unable to find at the last minute, so it ties in.  Also, there was no way I was messing with smoked trout.

Tropical-ish (maybe?) themed centerpiece, on a poinsettia tablecloth

And here is our majestic table!

Most importantly, I think everyone who came had a good time.  I want people to enjoy themselves and come back.  

Added bonus: my coworkers tomorrow get all of the leftovers, so maybe that will make their Friday a little better.  

Phone Notes II: Electric Boogaloo

Hey, Friends.

You might remember a while back when I decided to share some of the nonsense from my phone before I deleted it.  (You can read the post here if you are just dying of curiosity.)  You probably don't remember, and why should you?  Your head is very busy remembering much more important things -- like the password that you made for a website and you were sure it was so easy you would never forget it and didn't need to write it down anywhere.  I don't expect you to make space in your brain to recall my ramblings -- that password is probably much more useful to you.

Why am I bringing this up?  Fair question.  It is once again that magical time when my phone is getting too full, and I need to purge and free up some storage space.  I should probably upgrade from my iPhone 4s at some point as well, but that's not the point.

"But why do we care about your petty phone issues?"  You don't, Friends.  I realize this.  Consider this your cue to stop reading right now, as the rest of this post is going to be made entirely of the drivel that went through my head, or things that happened that I jotted down.  Stuff I meant to follow up on and do something with here, but it never happened.  Little moments that were meant for greater things and have now been relegated to being dumped here before disappearing forever.  A last gasp for relevance, if you will.

That might not have been the best way to convince you to read this, but whatever.  It's happening whether you stick around to read it or not. On to the phone purge!

1) When you have to delete pictures from your phone, and you essentially have to give yourself a pep talk to do it.  "It's okay.  You can do this!  They have already gone on to live on social media.  It's okay to let go."

2) Dear Amazon,
         
          I know you have to install updates at times.  I'm all for updates and keeping things running smoothly.  I'm not a fan of how you do it.

         There is no warning.  Suddenly -- boom!  Shit just stops working.  I eventually figure out that the internet access on my Kindle Fire isn't loading, and it isn't a problem with my wifi.  No.  You updated shit, and until I figure out to reboot nothing is going to work.

          Same deal with Fire TV.  I was in the middle of watching a show when boom!  Everything freezes, and then it says I have no connection.  Once again, my wifi is fine.  You decided that was the optimum time to issue an update and f^*k you to anyone using the service at that moment.  No message.  No warning.  Do you have any idea how annoying it is to repeatedly type in the wifi password with the weird little remote?  Very.  And I did it repeatedly until I figured out to just unplug the damn thing and let it reboot.

3)  That moment when you know exactly what you should say, but you can't do it.  You know that if you say the right thing and tell the person what they want to hear, you will get whatever you want.  And you just can't do it.  It would make life a lot easier if you could just suck it up and spew the necessary words, but you cannot kiss that much ass without going insane.  Especially when it is undeserved.  Would rather be recognized for competence than the ability to lie.

4)  

When you see the sign warning about hunters, but figure it's not too serious because you are in a park.  About half an hour later, off in the distance a bit, you hear a gun shot.  Then another.  You've just reached the midpoint on your hiking trail, so there is no "quick" way to get back.  Screw it.  Any hunters in the area should realize that a deer would not be frolicking about in the woods wearing a bright red fleece.  But please don't shoot me on accident, okay?

5)  Putting on new socks can be such a magnificently decadent feeling.  I don't even like to wear socks that much -- barefoot is much better -- but new sock softness can be the coziest thing.  Like soft little hugs on your tired feet.

6)  That moment when you are in bed, half asleep, and suddenly can't remember if you locked the doors or just thought about having to lock the doors.  You're 99.9% sure you did, because you are a little OCD about that, but you know you have to get up and check anyway just to be sure.  You won't sleep unless you do.  If you don't check then it will probably turn out to be the one time you didn't lock the doors, and that will be when someone breaks in and axe murders you.  That would suck.  Big time.

7) Conversation between two girls, overheard in a coffee shop...

Girl 1: Look what he said there!  Isn't it funny?  I swear I've found my soul mate on Twitter!

Girl 2:  *Takes phone*  Too bad he lives on the other side of the country.  And has a few thousand followers.  Who is the person?

Girl 1: Just some guy.  I don't think he's famous or anything.  And he follows me!

Girl 2: You and 1,013 other people.

Girl 1: Hey!  He followed me first!  He obviously must see what I post and likes it.

Girl 2: Please.  He doesn't see shit that you post.  He just wants people to see his stuff.

Girl 1: He does too.  Can't you just be excited for me?

Girl 2:  Sure, if that makes you happy.  We'll just pretend you get a little tingle every time you see that someone looked at your tweet because you instinctively know it must be your soul mate reading your 140-words-or-less moments of brilliance.

Girl 1: I hate you.

Girl 2: You just hate my voice of reason.

** Yeah, that is a legit conversation.  I went into total creeper mode and took notes while they were talking.  Shut up.**

8)  That moment when you cannot remember the word "pilot", so you refer to the person as the "airplane driver".  Not even a little embarrassed when everyone laughs at you, because at least they knew what you were talking about.  Although, being called out and corrected by a 7 year old was something you could have lived without.

9) Work moments...

Coworker: Okay, I'm leaving.

Me: (while checking out a patron's items) Okay.

Coworker: See you tomorrow.

Me: I'll be here with bells on.

Coworker leaves...

Patron: Did you just tell her you would be here with bells on?

Me: Yup.

Patron: *laughs* Shit!  Sorry!  You're too funny.

Me: Thanks.

Patron: I'm going to have you check my stuff out from now on.

Me: Alright.  I'll see you in a week, same place.

Patron: I'll be here with bells on.

10)  More work moments...

Patron: I'm so glad the library moved!  That old area wasn't very nice.  And there are so many of those people over there.

Me: You mean the Vassar students?  It's a nice area -- lots of shops and restaurants to walk to.

Patron: Yes, it has things to walk to, but the people -- not the students, but the other people who live there.  You know, in the other direction.  Toward Main Street and the more city area.

Me: *blank stare*  I'm not sure that I do.

Patron: You know....the riff-raff.  

Me: There are a lot of nice, good people who live in that area.  Sure, there are some that have problems --

Patron: You have to say that because you work here.  You probably only saw the nicer segment of the population who actually know what a library is.

I was pissed off at this point.  Not going to lie.  Is there a polite way to tell someone to fuck off?  

Me: No, I can say that because I know those people.  I live two blocks from the old location.  You know, in the "other" direction.  Toward Main Street.

Patron: *looks stunned*

Me: I guess that makes me part of the riff-raff.  Your books are due in three weeks.  Have a good night.

Knowing my luck this woman will turn out to be a total witch who will file a complaint about me.

11) You know when you have a song stuck in your head?  Not even the whole song, just a snippet of it....okay really just the melody, and you can't think of any of the lyrics that go to it.  And it's way too late to be awake (around 2am) but this is going to drive you insane and keep you from sleeping until you figure out what song is stuck in your head.

    I got a little desperate.  What if I sing it to Siri?  Siri has Shazaam powers.  I wonder if I can sing the tune to Siri and she can identify it and put me out of my misery?  Is that even a thing?  Does Siri have the power to do that?

There are three possibilities here:

-- Siri does not, in fact, have the ability to recognize a song when you sing the tune to her.

-- Siri does have the ability, but just thought my singing was so terrible that she had no idea what to do about it and tried to let me down gently

-- I am a much worse singer than my shower has led me to believe all these years, especially at 2 am when I should be sleeping.

I still don't know what song it was.  

And that concludes our fun time with the random stuff I saved on my phone.  We'll probably do this again in a few months, Friends.  I hope you were mildly amused.  At the very least you will now know not to bother reading Phone Notes III when you see it posted, right?

Falling Waters Preserve

Alternate Title:  Google Maps Still Hates Me

Today is Black Friday.  There is not enough money in the world to make me go near a mall or shopping center today.  I don't care how fantastic the deals are supposed to be.  I went once a few years ago with my mother, and some woman practically knocked me down in her effort to yank a salt and pepper set out of my hands.  A salt and pepper shaker set!  I have no desire to deal with that level of overzealous shopping insanity ever again.

Also, it was absolutely beautiful out today!  Temperatures in the mid 60s at the end of November?  There is no reason to stay inside and let such a day go to waste.

So I decided to go on an adventure.  The destination: Falling Waters Preserve.  I had never been there before, and the name just sounded really cool.  (Yup.  That was the entirety of my decision-making process.)

You might be wondering what Google Maps has to do with all of this since there are clearly directions on the website. You're correct, there are directions.  But I'm not coming from Saugerties, so I needed different directions.  Google Maps has been behaving itself of late, so I decided to rely on them.  The drive should only take about 35 minutes. 

I had a rough idea of where I had to go.  The beginning went swimmingly, as Google Maps was in agreement with the general direction I knew I needed to be heading.   Until it wasn't....well, not really.

Friends, you would be forgiven for wondering what the hell is wrong with me for blindly following Google Maps when it has tried to lure me to my death, gotten me very lost taken me to some unexpected destinations in the past.  I assumed it was just taking me the "less traffic route", and I went with it.  It did recognize Falling Waters Preserve as a place when I entered it in, so I figured I would get there eventually.

Bad, bad mistake.

The silver lining to this little trip was that it wasn't on dodgy dirt roads, and was conveniently located around the main road near my brother's old house.  If I got completely lost I already knew how to get home.  Bonus!

So I followed Google Maps.  It was a pretty drive.  I remember noticing a sign that said "Arthritis Hurts" on the way up, but I didn't get to read the rest of it.  Probably true, although it was odd to announce on a sign. This will become relevant later, I promise.

The street must have changed names about 12 times while I was driving.  Somehow in the middle of all this I missed whatever turn Google Maps had wanted me to take.  I eventually wound up on Main Street in Saugerties -- north of where I was supposed to be.  Also, for no reason I could ascertain, Google Maps had gone silent.  My phone was not on silent.  It was hooked up to my car, so Google Maps should have been announcing all of the turns to me through the freaking blue-tooth connection, but it wasn't.  Google was giving me the silent treatment.  I was trying to make all of these turns  while driving and checking the screen.  Not fun..and probably not terribly safe, either.

Finally, Google gets us turned around and going back basically the same way we just came. (When I say "us" and "we", I mean Google and myself.  No one else was with me.)  This time I actually found the street it wanted me to turn on.  The sign was bent and hard to read, which is probably why I missed it the first go-round.

I'm driving down the street, and I notice I am coming to a dead-end at a closed gate.  A closed gate with a big sign that says Private Property.

Damn it, Google Maps!  What have you done to me this time?

Apparently it took me to the wrong end of the property.  Not the first time this has happened.  Also, it would appear, not the only time GPS has failed to get people to the correct location.  There is actually a sign by the gate saying that you need to go south to York (Street?  Road?  Didn't specify.) to get to the entrance of Falling Waters Preserve.  Fantastic.

So I pull back out onto the road I was just on, and I start heading South, looking for a street called York.  I was mad at my co-pilot, so Google was being ignored since I didn't have time to reprogram it and it wanted to send me back to the wrong place again.

I knew I had once again gone too far, this time going South, when I passed the "Arthritis" sign. Okay.  Time to find somewhere to pull over before I ended up back down in my brother's old neighborhood. I found a convenience store and pulled into their parking lot.  

How am I going to find this place?  It should not be this difficult.  My phone was for crap, and it wouldn't let me pull up the Scenic Hudson website to get the actual street address.  I literally typed in "York Street" in Google Maps and hoped it came up with something that looked to be in approximately the right area.

Success!  York Street found, and I once again set off following Google's directions.

"Arthritis Hurts

Jesus Can Still Heal"

And on trip number 3 past the Arthritis sign I now knew it was for a church.  Fun times.

Finally, I found the place.  It took and hour and a half to reach a destination that should have taken about 35 minutes.  Oh, Google. This is the kind of thing that makes me less than confident in our relationship.  There has to be trust for this to work, and you make it so hard to trust you at times.

It really was beautiful, and worth the effort to find it.  I took some pictures for you, Friends.

I took the Upland Trail first, since it said there was a waterfall at the northern end.  I do love waterfalls.

Main trail

Statue bordering the trail, next to private property

Waterfall at the northern end of the trail

Smaller waterfall along the trail

Trail's end.  Literally stops at a cliff.

Instead of just going back the way I came, I took the Riverside Trail.  It was supposed to have several shoreline overlooks.  They were very pretty, but I found other things of interest as well.

Trail along the shoreline

Bench at one of the scenic overlooks

Fungi

Tree stump.  There were a lot of trees that had fallen down or been damaged.

I don't know why this drew my attention, but it did.  It looks like a fairy's house...and I have a really active imagination.

Last was the Father C. Jorn Trail.  It is the shortest trail, but it has an interesting story.  To quote the park guide:

Once the road to a riverfront icehouse, the trail passes the preserve's southern waterfall, then parallels the stream until it enters the Hudson.  Its name honors Father Charles Jorn (1906-2002), longtime chaplain at the Dominican Sisters' Sparkhill infirmary.  While vacationing here each October for 39 years, he spent every day except Sunday clearing trails and creating a park around the icehouse remains--using only a machete and rake.  The trail follows the route he walked to reach his "work".

Rest area near the southern waterfall

Along the Hudson

The ground was covered with these things along the water's edge

Waves in action

Shoreline

Short video of the southern waterfall, shot with Boomerang so it looks like it goes back and forth

I did not use Google Maps on the way back.  I actually knew where I was going by this point.  I did not need to go on another hour-long odyssey at that point.

Oh, and on the 4th trip past the Arthritis sign, I finally got to read the entire thing:

Arthritis Hurts

Jesus Can Still Heal

Right Here

Underneath were the times for Sunday services.  

What did we learn today, Friends?

1) Nature is beautiful, and it's worth the effort to get out and enjoy it.  (We already knew that, but it is always important to remember.)

2) Google Maps is still a fickle and unreliable co-pilot.  

3) If you have arthritis pain and really want it healed, you should go find this church on Route 32. Apparently they can make you feel better.

Last Night I Went to Bed at 9 pm

**I wrote this last night (Friday night).  Forgive me if it is a mess, Friends.  I wanted to keep it as I was actually feeling at the time, free from editing after the fact.  I wasn't actually going to post this -- it was meant just to get it out of my system.  A private diary entry, if you like.  Then I thought that maybe it would actually be of help for other people to see, maybe they were reacting the same way.  Or maybe it won't.  I don't know, but I decided it wouldn't hurt to post it either way.**

I went to bed tonight at 9 pm.  If you know me, you will know that is obscenely early for me.  I'm normally "early" if I'm in bed by midnight.

I went to bed because I was done.  My ability to cope with horrific shit and stress had been maxed out.  I knew I was done because I was freezing cold even with the heat turned up and snuggled under a blanket.  Nothing was getting me warm.

I went to bed because I don't have a television in my bedroom.  I could set my alarm for work tomorrow, put my phone on "silent", and shut it out of sight in the drawer of my nightstand.  I needed to turn the world off.

I was at the local community college for an appointment this morning when it all started.  I was waiting for a meeting when I saw the breaking news that another college -- about a mile or so away as the crow flies -- was on lock-down due to threats made on Twitter.  Several hours later a  teenager would be arrested for making the threats.  (note: link to article added today 11/15/15)

I went on to work, bringing my coworker a cake for his birthday.  I had decorated it with little skull sprinkles as a joke since it was Friday the 13th.

Not so cute or funny now

The afternoon at work was problems from the word go.  Clusterf%*k -- that's a pretty accurate description of the shit-storm that went on all afternoon.  If it could go wrong, it pretty much did.  I was stressed out, crabby, and exhausted by the end of the day.  I was leaving knowing that 90% of those problems were going to be waiting for me when I got to work the next day.

I got home to relax and call my parents.  My older cat, Wiz kid, had an emergency trip to the vet on Thursday when she seemed to suddenly have two seizures.  The only good news I heard today was that her blood work came back fine.  She doesn't appear to be sick, it's probably just arthritis...and she needs to go on a kitty diet.  No sign of a larger problem unless she has another episode.  I wanted to call my parents and tell them the good news.  I had time to see one nice post on Twitter.

Then my Twitter stream turned to Paris.  Everything was Paris.  It was like everyone got out of work simultaneously and saw the horror unfolding.

I immediately turned on the news as I had no idea what was happening.  

Heartbreaking.

And then I watched.  I watched the news, I kept checking Twitter.

I watched hoping that someone, somewhere, would say that the numbers were wrong.  So many innocent people hadn't died, or that the hostages were safe.

But the numbers kept going up.  The only ray of light in the darkness was the humanity of the Parisians themselves -- opening their homes to the people trying to get to safety, taxi drivers turning off their lights and giving people free rides.  Sparks of human decency and kindness in the midst of the tragedy unfolding.  

Three hours.  Three solid hours I was glued to the news and Twitter.  I didn't eat dinner because I had lost my appetite.  It didn't seem important at all considering what was unfolding in Paris.

And an earthquake and possible tsunami in Japan!  The world was a mess.

My relentless absorption of the news, and reading other about other less-publicized horrors that had happened (like in Beirut), was only interrupted by a work problem.  I was actually glad for the distraction, even if it was going to add to the problems I would have to deal with the next day.

I knew I had to stop.  I was done.  No matter whether I was watching or not, the news wasn't going to change.  It would, probably, only get worse.  No amount of information was going to make it better.  Over 100 people in Paris were dead because they had gone out to dinner, or to a concert.

There is no understanding that because it should never happen, anywhere in the world.  I felt soul-sick and heartbroken for the world.

I wasn't ready to start hearing all of the politicians weighing in, or the hate-fueled comments about the refugees (who are trying to escape these types of situations), or to hear how we should start bombing other countries and killing even more people to solve the problem.

So I went to bed.

I went to bed to snuggle with my two cats, happy that they were both healthy.

I went to bed because I would wake up in the morning, and I was pretty damn sure all of my loved ones would wake up safe and sound as well.

I went to bed because I would wake up.  I would get to go to work.  There might be problems and stress, but that was insignificant in the greater scheme of things.

I would wake up.  I would go to work.  I would get to help people.  Maybe not in life-altering ways, but at least a little.

I would get to do all of these things that so many people would never get to do again.

I went to bed in silence.  Normally I listen to music to drift off to sleep.  I couldn't bring myself to do that.  So many people had been attacked and died just going to a concert.  I love going to concerts.  It seemed wrong.

I went to bed.  I curled up in my covers and I wrote this.

And it won't change any of the horrible things that happened in the world today.  It won't even alleviate all of the problems I will have to deal with at work.

But it might help me feel a little better, get it all out of my system.  And if I feel a little better then maybe I can be more helpful to others, a little kinder and gentler to the world.  Maybe that will spread to others, even a little bit.  It won't magically restore anyone's faith in humanity, but maybe it will seem a bit nicer.

The world could use a little more love and kindness, especially in the face of so much hurt and hate.

So I went to bed.

In Which I Have a Ridiculous Theory

Hi, Friends.

I know, it's been a while since I bothered to update here.  I suck.  Let's all just agree on that and move on, okay?

So, weird things have been afoot around here lately, and it kind of led me to a ridiculous and totally implausible theory.  It's absolute nonsense, but it amuses me and hopefully will amuse you as well.  Maybe not -- I don't know.  It's a long story, so grab yourself your beverage of choice and snuggle in, because this is going to take a while.  (And if you get bored, stop reading.  I will never know the difference.)

Need a bit more convincing?  The other title I almost went with for this post:  Like I'm Living in a Weird Bermuda Triangle.  Does that make it more enticing?

Let us begin.

My ridiculous theory: I'm starting to think my street has taken on the status of an imaginary place.

Lately, it's almost as if people have collectively decided to pretend that my house, and even my entire street, no longer exists -- or maybe we are under some kind of mystical field that only lets our presence be noted at certain times.  You know, like Hamunaptra in the movie The Mummy, except we are nowhere near as fancy or important.

Let me try to explain the weirdness.  I promise I haven't gone off the deep end.  I just like my crazy theory better than whatever the mundane explanation eventually turns out to be.

It all started with the postal service, of all things.  At first I thought it was just me and that the post office had some secret vendetta against me.  I had been waiting for a few things to come in the mail, and they all should have arrived long ago -- the most important was my car registration and my loan payment book, amongst a few other things.  I eventually got my car registration, and I can't even blame the post office for how long that took.  I'm sure the great state of New York played a role in its delay as well.  My loan book showed up after the first payment was due, and looked like it had come to me via Alaska.  Other things never arrived at all.

I chalked it up to just being a weird glitch in the system.  That was followed by quite a few days where I got absolutely no mail at all.  Nada.  No junk mail, no seasonally popular political mailings, nothing.  I'm not counting the holidays, either.

That might not seem too strange.  It's not.  The weird part was the mail that I did receive.

I have gotten mail addressed to a gentleman who hasn't lived here in over 20 years.  He's not even the previous owner that I bought the house from.  I know he lived here at some point because he wrote his name in the cement in the cellar floor.

He gets mail.  I don't.

I've also gotten mail addressed to a Walgreens pharmacy.  I readily admit my love for Walgreens, and I stop in there way too often.  My house is not now, nor has it ever been, a Walgreens pharmacy.  I also do not live in Freedom Plains, so I really don't understand how this wound up in my mailbox.

Already delivered to a different wrong address!

The address is not even remotely close to mine....well, the part of the address that is even there.  The return address on the back was for some health science lab near Albany.  This I get delivered to my house?  I did not open it, of course.  It's none of my business.  I put it back out so it can continue its magical voyage through the postal system.  Who knows where it has been, or what exciting destination it may visit next!  I just hope it's not something important, like someone's prescription for desperately needed medication.

Side note:  Friends, if your pharmacist tells you that they never received your prescription -- don't bite their head off or assume they are incompetent.  That is doubly true if your prescription is going through the mail.  It might well be on a magical mystery tour of its very own.

Why was this happening?  Had I somehow pissed off the postal service?  I didn't think I had.  I don't get a lot of large, heavy packages delivered.  I participate in their food drives. I even give them homemade cookies at Christmas time!  I'm a freaking awesome customer, damn it.  I did consider filing a complaint with the post office, but did I really want to piss them off?  Things were weird enough already.

I decided to ask one of my neighbors if they were having the same problem.  Friends, if you have been following along on my blog (or Facebook or Twitter) for any amount of time, you know that I have some interesting neighbors, and they like to be very involved in my life.  As the youngest person on my street, I think I somehow became their vicarious form of entertainment when I moved in.  I'm cool with that.  I'd rather have neighbors that are friendly, and chat, and keep an eye out for each other.  

Back to my point....

My neighbor tells me that her mail has been sketchy lately also.  At least it wasn't just me!  We decided that maybe we just had a temporary mailman while the normal dude was on vacation or something, and things were backlogged.

Then she told me the story  about her friend and her GPS.  That's when my ridiculous theory really started to form in my brain.

Her friend was coming to visit from out of the area and hadn't been here in a few years.  She was relying on her GPS to get her to her destination.  Apparently she drove most of the way here without needing directions.  When she got closer she tried to plug in the address and it told her that there was no such street.  Say what?  This is not a new street.  We are not in some fancy new development.  My house has been here since the 1930s.  The poor lady ended up having to park at a restaurant and call my neighbor to get directions.

Eventually they were united, and they tried to figure out what happened to the GPS.  Turns out the GPS did not believe our street existed in Poughkeepsie, but in the non-existent town of Arlington.  Arlington is a school district.  It is a fire district.  It is a "population center" in Poughkeepsie for the census data.  It is not a separate town.  Just ask Wikipedia.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arlington,_New_York

I wonder if my mail is getting screwed up by this as well?  I have gotten some things with an address of Arlington, NY.  On the other hand, my brother had no problems with his GPS when he came to visit.  It knew my street existed.  

That, Friends, is the weirdness that has been going on lately.  I'm starting to think my street has taken on the status of an imaginary place.  Maybe it can only be found by people who already know it is here -- like Diagon Alley or 12 Grimmauld Place.  

I'd be totally cool with having wizards for neighbors, for the record.