My daughter's pre-school class

 

She was second from right in the first row.

My grandson likes to draw planes

 

Cars that last

One of the cars cited in this article was the Geo Prizm. However, I know of at least one of these that no longer exists. I was driving it at the time it became extinct. I was preceding across an intersection at about seven miles per hour when I was struck on the driver's side of the hood by a Lexus which was not going very fast but was way bigger than my car. There was a hideous noise and I was spun 180 degrees, to the other side of the street while smoke poured out of the hood, then busily disintegrating and falling in pieces all over the road. I was magically unhurt, but the car! Its mechanical parts had to be swept up with a broom and into a giant dustpan. It was thus I learned that, yes, a car can be too small to be safe to drive. If that car had hit the door on the driver's side, just a few inches from the spot it did hit, I would never have needed another car. Now I drive a four-door Nissan Sentra, thank you for inquiring.

Spending other people's money

Nothing is easier than spending other people's money. My first demonstration of the wisdom of this old saw occurred in 1976. You may recall that this was the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence--or was it the Constitution--anyway, one of those things. This important event had happened 200 years previously (or according to Ezra Klein, it was 100 years ago. But let's not quibble. It was a long time ago, and none of us were old enough to remember it). Anyway, the library I was managing then was encouraged to apply for funds from the Florida Bicentennial Committee, which we were to raise money to match. We did it, I forget how--maybe it was a bake sale, now illegal in several states because of the trans-fat issue. We raised our share and got the matching funds. Good so far. Then, as 1976 was winding to a close, we were informed that we had two weeks to spend the money, as someone in Washington or Tallahassee wanted to close the books on the Bicentennial. The board members, the mayor and I met in an emergency meeting because we had no idea what to do with the money. We finally came up with a plan. We would furnish a Bicentennial Room in the new library which was to be built shortly. In a lightning swift second meeting, we selected the furnishings of the room down to the color of the drapes and the frame on the picture of George Washington to be put on the wall. It was a piddling sum, but spending it was effortless; none of the group had to look at our personal finances to come up with the money. We could have spend 10 times that, 100 times that, if necessary. My next fun experience was in New Jersey. A bunch of us librarians were drafted to approve proposals for county arts projects. There was a finite sum, and we were to divide it among the candidates. We gave some money to several singing groups and to a group who wanted to paint a mural on a former but now derelict bowling alley in West Milford, NJ. It was fun, and I got an inkling of how much God must have enjoyed making the world and all the people and animals in it.

Depending on the government

I started to question the longtime stability of the Medicare system when I received my Medicare card. The Social Security system, in its wisdom, issued a card printed on cheap cardboard that looked like it might last 6 months. Why couldn't they at least laminate it? The card has begun to fray significantly around the edges, especially because I have to pull it out of my wallet from time to time. Is this a reflection of how long I would have to use it? Would I expire before the card fell apart? My father lived to be 99--did his Medicare card last?

Obama's virtues

Fraters Libertas: Faint Praise

I tried to link to Peggy Noonan's actual column, but it's behind a paywall. She enumerates Obama's virtues: he has a nice family, isn't mean, etc.

Other virtues of our president: He doesn't spit on the floor, eats with a knife and fork, is kind to puppies.

Talk about low expectations!

I'm going crazy

Too much is going on. Yes, folks, I am truly losing it. First Google turned on me, and I finally wrestled it to the ground. The new interface isn't too hot, but I think I've got it down. For now. Wells Fargo continues to puzzle me. I put my mortgage on automatic pay then paid it manually. Twice. Aside from having made three mortgage payments--and two car payments--I went to have fasting blood work and forgot the prescription. Now I have to do it again. I hate leaving my house with no coffee! But what's really bugging me is the medical establishment. First, I have seen three foot specialists and none of them has helped me. The fact that I have pain when walking doesn't seem to concern them at all. But I'm working my way up to the worst of it all. I brought Mr Charm to a surgeon to discuss his having a procedure I read about on the Internet. It is a relatively new procedure, but has been successfully performed for a couple of years. There are learned articles about it in medical journals. If successfully performed, it would improve Mr Charm's quality of life and allow him to live at home, with me, instead of in a nursing home. The doctor's response was like a barbed arrow tinged with a slow-acting poison. He acted as though I were asking him to perform something illegal, although I don't know what modern surgery would consider out of bounds, considering that doctors routinely perform sex-change surgery. The more I thought about it, the more upset I became. He treated me like a criminal. This is still festering in my mind.

Minnesota writers

I just finished reading "North of Hope" by Jon Hassler. Wonderful! I'm going to read and re-read all of his books. What is it about Minnesota that makes fiction writers so good? Another of my favorites is "Morte d'Urban" by J F Powers. A friend of mine believes that people who live in nice climates--Florida, California--spend too much of their time outdoors and don't develop their brains. Maybe. But I spent eight years living in Upstate New York and didn't develop my brain worth a damn.

Me at 18

 

Blogger still doesn't behave. Frustrating.

I'm back!

Blogger has changed ...something, and I can now post my sage observations again. So come back! both of my readers.

Good for BC!

Canadians reject a tax.

A perfect day, with road work

What a beautiful day!  It's bright and sunny and just warm enough.  .There's a little breeze that seems to come from all directions at once, stirring the   trees.  Birds singing.  Even a butterfly showing off.

And of course, four different road work projects at four different places. Every unemployed person in Delaware seems to be out, holding a sign that says either "STOP" or "SLOW."

More Google freakiness

Trying to post on this blog. Complained to google, but they couldn't get a screenshot.

Important announcement

 

Since this site is non-operational, I am switching my mordant insights to miriamspaintings.blogspot.com

See you there.

I want to sell my paintings on e-Bay

 

But I don't know whether anyone would be interested. I truly have too many paintings now and would like to lighten the load. I also need the money. I'd have to figure out how to do it.

Meanwhile, blogger is completely corrupted and I can't clean it up. Oy vey!

The only way I can get blogger to work is through Picasa

 

So this is not about two tots at a museum, although they are cute, aren't they?

No, this is about a hotel room, specifically the $3,000 hotel room where DSK spent an interesting visit. Investigators found semen from four (4) different guys in this room. Eeuw! (I can't link, but the story is on smoking gun. Check it out.)

The cleaning lady/rape victim ought to be fired for dereliction of duty if she's the person who normally cleans the room.

If this is what you get in a $3,000 hotel room, what do you get in a $120 Holiday Inn room? Bedbugs? Lice? It doesn't bear thinking about.

This is a test

 

I can't get Blogger to post anything. Or to work, generally.

One of my favorites

 

This hangs at the foot of my stairs.

How to tell a rioter from a protester

Here's how.

Clothing display--Good Will Store

 

I thought this was colorful.

Has anyone else noticed that Matt Damon has a face like a pie plate?

Just asking.

His face is perfectly round. You could bake a pizza on it. Not that you'd want to, but you could.

BBC biased against Israel?

surely not?

The advantages of being an atheist

I've never understood why atheists continue to write long and vehement books about their beliefs or lack of same. The existence of God cannot be proved, or disproved, and no book can add anything to the discussion. Why can't atheists just relax?

There are positives to being an atheist. They have more time than church/mosque/synagogue attenders, seeing that they don't have to go to church/mosque/synagogue and don't have to feel guilty about it if they sleep late on Friday/Saturday/Sunday morning. They don't have to fast on Yom Kippur or Ramadan, give something up for Lent, or send out those boring Christmas letters. They need not suffer from Jewish/Catholic/ Muslim guilt. They don't have to obey the 10 commandments; they don't even have to know what they are.

Instead of taking advantage of the extra time, they file lawsuits against prayers at public meetings, protest Christmas decorations, and write those dreary books.

Evaluating pain

More accurate than the usual 1-10.

George Orwell was right

When the four volume set of Orwell's essays was published some time in the 70s, I bought it and read them all. His work is easy to read and interesting, so it wasn't hard to do.

One essay in particular caught my attention. Orwell objected to a law --recently passed at the time of writing--which would force gun owners to register their weapons. Orwell thought this was a first step to disarming the public and depriving them of the freedom to bear arms. Of course, being a liberal, I disagreed with him vehemently and thought he was an old fussbudget. Having come to my senses in the interval, I am amazed at his prescience.

Look at the situation in England--hoodlums looting and burning property while decent citizens can do nothing but stand back and watch helplessly.

Two lemons and three limes...

 

plus bottle of olive oil and bowl, looking for a good home.

Has anyone tried the Kindle app on the iPad?

I'm thinking of getting an iPad, with a Kindle application, but I've heard there might be problems with the app. There has been some grumbling about incompatible formats and other stuff I can't quite understand. But I know if there's a problem, I will have it in spades and not be able to do anything with it. I say this as one who is still shaking my head about how to replace the batteries in the remote for the Wii. I'll have to read the manual, the thought of which gives me real brain pain.

So--should I get a Kindle, for $150 and change, or break down and get an iPad ($500 and counting)?

Please, my reticent, not to say taciturn, readers, let me know what I should do. And how do I replace the batteries in the Wii remote, currently in two pieces? I'm pretty sure it isn't supposed to be like that.

Buy a painting, dammit!

Go to my painting website and look around, and select one!

Best offer wins!

Hot news

The heat is back. My lawn has committed suicide. Trees are shriveling up and dying. My rose bushes, which bloomed beautifully in May and obstinately declined to flower in June, have a few tentative blooms. I guess they never got the memo that June is the month of roses.

All I want to do for the rest of my life is find a swimming pool somewhere and stand in it up to my neck, or maybe over my head from time to time.

Meanwhile, there are people in the nursing home wearing sweaters, jackets and, in one case, a wool hat, covered in blankets and sitting outdoors.

My house is beautifully air-conditioned and is going to stay that way. I plan, for the remaining years of my life, to be an energy hog and consume as much electricity, gas, coal, and bandwidth as possible. I will be enabled to do this by the sacrifice of all you good citizens who are installing solar panels and ceiling insulation, leaving more for me to squander. Thank you, good citizens!

Re-evaluating Caligula's horse

The crazy Roman emperor Caligula famously nominated his horse to the Senate. This puts him one up on the American people, who elected only the back half of a horse to the presidency.

Bloggers in trouble

Things are rough for a lot of conservative bloggers.

I've been in tough spots myself, trying to live with a graduate student, a baby, and a toddler, but the difference was that Mr Charm was always able to get some kind of poorly paying job doing something--working as a dispatcher at night in a blood bank, for instance. He also had a fallback--a brother who could get him work as a longshoreman. This was hard, dirty work, but he did it at night and attended classes and did his research during the day.

These jobs are not available to young and not-so-young people nowadays. People are living on the edge of a cliff and hanging by their thumbs.

Now that I've got your attention: Da tech guy, and the other McCain and others mentioned by instapundit could use a little something.

These links are not easy in blogger!

And if anyone wants to buy one of my paintings cheap...

Al Anatsui exhibit at the Clark Institute

 

 

 

 

 

Made from found materials--they are really quite lovely.

Hay figures, Pissaro's people, Clark Museum, Williamstown MA

 

 

 

 

Wells Fargo alert

Wells Fargo continues to take their newest acquisition, Wachovia, to the bottom.

Starting August 8, 2011, you can access your converted Wachovia accounts and Wachovia Online BillPay through online and mobile banking at Wells Fargo. You’ll also be able to view your Wells Fargo Advisors brokerage account balances, portfolio, activity, and more.

Please note: At Wells Fargo, your bill pay payments will be processed differently from Wachovia Online BillPay.

At Wells Fargo, funds to pay your bills will be withdrawn from your account up to 5 business days earlier than they were at Wachovia.
Please verify you will have sufficient funds in your funding account to ensure your converting bill pay payments are processed successfully.
To learn about important differences in the way Wells Fargo Bill Pay works, visit wellsfargo.com/welcomebillpay.

Wachovia sinks lower every day it is owned by Wells Fargo.

The teller informed me the last time I visited the bank that I needed to make an appointment with them to discuss my account. I told them I was fine with my account and didn't have time to listen to a sales pitch.

An epidemic of As

Have American college students gotten smarter?

Forty per cent of college grades are A.

I've noticed the same phenomenon concerning elementary and high school students. How many drivers had bumper stickers saying "My son/daughter is an honor student as (your school's name here) school" back in the day?

None. It was hard to get an A, which incidentally stood for excellent.

Are our children getting smarter? Has our educational system improved to the point where everyone is fulfilling his or her potential to the max? Can we rest confident that America's future is in the hands of these budding geniuses?

Or is there a new definition of honor student--someone who attends school most of the time, gives the teachers no lip and doesn't burn the building down?

Family obligations

Mother was totally devoted to her family of origin. It was one for all and all for one, though this was never expressed in so many words. Words were for fighting with each other; you could never guess how close they were if you listened to them argue.

My father experienced this solidarity up close and personal. He would get ready to go to work in his car only to discover that mother had loaned the car--at that time their only vehicle--to one of her brothers, whose car was in the shop. Mother decided not to inform him of this before the fact, reasoning--correctly, as it turned out--that he would strenuously object.

Mother could not understand the fuss. After all, Moe was a doctor, and obviously needed the car more than he did.

Small gardens at small houses

 

My drive to the rehab where Mr Charm is immured leads me past many modest houses, older houses on small plots, usually including a porch where residents would sit on a warm evening before everyone had air conditioning.

The houses are modest, but well kept, and many have small gardens which have lovingly been planted and tended. These are a balm to a troubled spirit; they make me feel a little better. Just a little, but that helps me get through the day.

Thank you, gardeners.

A walkable neighborhood

Goodbye, Longwood Gardens

Memo: To Longwood Gardens

From: Miriam Xxxxx

07/09/11

I got my renewal notice from Longwood Gardens today. Sorry, I am not going to renew.

I have the most expensive membership category there is. I forget what it was called, but I do know I was given passes for several friends, as well as free admission for me and my family any time. I don't lend other people my membership card and I only come on rare occasions when I have the time. I also generally eat lunch there and purchase items in the shop. I would call my membership a win-win, but you win more than I do. Unless the restaurants and the shop are money-losing enterprises.

However, the last time I visited the gardens, people were being asked to show photo ID upon admission. It was almost like flying abroad, without the full-body search. No doubt that will come in time.

There is something disturbing about a garden visit to a quiet, peaceful place combined with showing picture ID. It destroys the mood one hopes to enjoy among the flowers and trees.

A better way to spend the stimulus money

from the comments:

A couple earlier commenters have pointed out how the US dominated the world economy after WWII. Imagine if we had spent the recent stimulus on bombing German, Japanese and Chinese factories. It would done a lot more for our relative economic position than cash for clunkers. (Of course it would also have been morally reprehensible and provoked an international backlash.

But after the war we gave them money to rebuild their factories.

An unpleasant surprise

my new car has XM Radio--but only for a limited time, I discovered in yesterday's mail. I get three months free, then it costs $12.95 a month.

How would I like to be billed--$45.00 for three months, or yadayada. This kind of math makes me nuts. Three times $12.95 is not $45.00! Trivial, I know, but how can you run a radio station and not be able to multiply 3x12.95? They should not have allowed XM and Sirius to merge.

It reminds me of my Verizon account--$99.00 a month, adding up to a total of $150; or ATT--$30.00 a month per line (I have 2), which adds up to $90 and change.

About that French guy with the girl's name...

Dominique something?

I was trying to imagine the mechanical aspect of his interaction with the hotel maid. How do you, without a weapon, force someone to commit a Lewinsky? Didn't the woman, er, have teeth?

Just asking.

And the victim! A black, single mom, unlettered, a widowed undocumented immigrant, who undoubtedly attended morning mass every day. All she needed to make her the perfect victim was a wooden leg. Too good to be true. Sadly.

Another chance for untold wealth

If only I had $389,00 lying around...

Good day,

I have been trying to reach you for sometime now, so i just want to inform
you that I have deposited your ATM MASTER CARD of $800,000,00 USD United
state dollars to the FedEx Delivery services here in England, and i
packaged the ATM MASTER CARD inside a magazine where nobody will notice
the content. Insurance and delivery charges have been paid for, but the
only fee remaining is the security safe keeping fee of $398,00 US Dollars
only, which you will be required to pay before delivery.

However, this was not paid for because of demurrage. Well, I did forward
them your delivery address, but a re-confirmation is important when
contacting them if you want to change your address. I advice you quote the
parcel and shipment code to them for onward delivery to your re-confirmed
address. The Universal ATM MASTERCARD has pin number is 1407, and the
maximum withdrawal limit per day is USD$ 9,500 (Nine Thousand, Five Hundred
United States Dollar) Only.

Please make sure you contact the shipment officer through his correct email below.
Contact the shipment office with the below information and re-confirm your present
mailing address to them:

Attention: Mr. West Newton Shipment Officer Of FedEx delivery services
London, England.
E-mail: fexexpress@post.com
Tel: +44 740 519 1732

Full name......................
Present Home address............
Country....................
Telephone...............

Below is the Deposit details:
Deposit Number: PLCC-101-PL45
Sort/Clearance Code: PLC/101-45/P50
Deposit Certificate N0.: 405576
Shipment Code: CBEL/OWN/0087
Parcel Number: EG2272-UK
Consignment Description: British Magazine
Depositor: Barrister Greg Williams

I am travelling out of town and will be back in three months time.
Note that I packaged the ATM MASTER CARD inside a magazine where nobody
will notice the content, I also told the shipment officer Mr. West Newton, that it
is ordinary British magazine I want to deliver to my friend abroad to avoid
further delay unless you delay to send their security safe keeping fee. You have to
inform them on how you are to send the security fee to them, so they can instruct
you on how to send it to them to enable them dispatch your package immediately to you.

Remain blessed and enjoy your funds.
Barr. Greg Williams.

Happy Independence Day

 

Genealogy

I've been doing a bit of genealogical research lately. Traced my father's father back to Hungary, where I was stopped dead. My father's mother came from a large family, but no trace of them. Everyone on both sides of my family changed their names, which doesn't make it easy. My father's sister was Julia in Hungary, but was transmogrified to Helen here. His brother Gersh became Andy.

My dad's father was known as Wolf when he came to this country, but soon became William P. A friend suggested that wolf was a translation of Zev, and what do you know, he was buried under the name of Schlomo Ze'ev ben Rab Ya'akov. This indicates that his (Wolf or William) father was a rabbi. But I always understood he was an orphan.

My mother's father had a couple of brothers named Feibel and Velvel. I found immigration records for them and they then disappeared into history.

I was contacted by someone else who shares some of my relatives; I'll call him Steve. Steve was able to give me some information which was interesting about a cousin of mine. Then he started discovering new and distinguished ancestors of dubious provenance: Eleanor of Aquitaine, for instance. Except for a gap of a century or two which somehow got lost, Steve claims relationship to her and to various other august personages.

Not me. All my ancestors were mediocre and respectable.

Does Romney remind anyone else of Dudley Do Right?

The TSA strikes again.

I don't think they were purposely being mean, they were just "doing their job." They probably didn't want to "get in trouble." This is how the government handles everything. Independent thought is dangerous in a government job. The government is a blunt weapon. Its methods--no doubt comprising pages and pages of procedural rules--are akin to performing brain surgery with a broomstick.

Curses on Mozilla

Every time I upgrade Mozilla Firefox, all my bookmarks vanish forever, along with the toolbar. I can't even download new apps to restore the toolbar. Internet surfing without toolbars or bookmarks is like taking a shower in a raincoat. I hate you, Mozilla Firefox, you dumb asses.

How to lose weight

Now that Mr Charm is being rehabbed and I don't have to cook for him, it's an ideal time to tackle that weight loss diet.

Here's how a proper, healthy, but low calorie diet plan works.
1. Plan meals.

2. Buy healthy food, like veggies. Spend time selecting the most luscious, freshest produce.
3. Spend hours assembling, dicing, chopping and stirring really yummy meals.
4. Eat yummy meal.
4. Clean up mess in kitchen.

But this is what I usually do:
1. Go to frozen food department, fill basket and get out of there in 10 minutes
2. Microwave something.
3. Eat not so yummy but admittedly convenient meal.
4. Throw out box.

I get a new car

 

But this isn't it.

Doing my bit for the country's economy, I finally got my first new car--a Nissan Sentra, just what I had always wanted. It has everything--GPS, Bluetooth, power this, power that! Cupholders in the back seat! Car payments!

Why I love my brother

 

That's him, holding my hand.

This picture was on display at a memorial service for my father, which the whole family attended.

He told everyone who would listen, "Miriam was really gorgeous in those days--I'm not kidding." He is so loyal, I could probably shoot him or set fire to his hair and he wouldn't hold it against me.

Making really wonderful pizza

Much to-do about pizza  from Ann Althouse, re a gushing article in the New York Times:

Heat the oven and pizza stone at 500 degrees for one hour (if using a baking sheet, heat it for 30 minutes). Roll out the dough and top your pizza, then slide it onto the pizza stone or baking sheet. Bake it for three minutes.

And then you have--pizza! Yes, the same mediocre fare you can get delivered all over New York City in 30 minutes! Or you could go out to a local pizzeria!

Pizza is pizza. There's a limit to how good it can be, and no matter how good it is, it's pizza! Pizza can only reach a certain level of wonderfulness, it's not pate de fois gras.

What next; making your own Wonder Bread?

The money just keeps rolling in

MONTH OF JUNE ONLINE LOTTO AND GAMING CORPORATION.

WINNING NUMBER: OL/656/020/012

OUR DEAR WINNER,

THIS IS TO NOTIFY YOU THAT YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS HAS WON ONLINE LOTTO AND GAMING CORPORATION SUM OF (ONE MILLION EURO), THIS ONLINE LOTTO AND GAMING CORPORATION PROGRAM WAS MADE POSSIBLE BY GROUPS OF INTERNATIONAL COMPANIES THAT DO ADVERTISEMENTS ON THE INTERNET TO APPRECIATE EMAIL USERS.

ALL THE E-MAIL ADDRESSES USED FOR THIS ONLINE LOTTO AND GAMING CORPORATION PROGRAM WAS SELECTED THROUGH ELECTRONIC BALLOTING SYSTEM OF INTERNET E-MAIL USERS, FROM WHICH YOUR E-MAIL ADDRESS CAME OUT AS THE WINNING COUPON.

WE THEREBY CONTACT YOU TO CLAIM YOUR WINNING AMOUNT QUICKLY AS THIS IS A MONTHLY LOTTERY. FAILURE TO CLAIM YOUR WINNING WILL RESULT INTO THE REVERSION OF OUR FOLLOWING MONTH LOTTERY. (THE EXPIRATION DATE IS 30TH OF JUNE). PLEASE CONTACT OUR APPROVED AGENT BELOW WITH YOUR WINNING NUMBER ABOVE.

ONLINE LOTTO AND GAMING CORPORATION AGENCY.
MRS. ANA PAULA FILIPE.
(DIRECTOR OF WINNING CLAIMS DEPARTMENT).
TEL: +31-622-915-948
E-MAIL: globalworld2009@aim.com

WARNING: YOU ARE TO KEEP EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS YOUR WINNING PRIVATE, UNTIL YOU RECEIVE YOUR WINNING PRIZE BY THIS ONLINE LOTTO AND GAMING CORPORATION PAYING BANK, CONTROVERSIAL CLAIM WILL LEAD TO DISQUALIFICATION. BE WARNED.

REGARDS,

MRS. MANUELA JOHNSON.
(DIRECTOR OF ONLINE LOTTO AND GAMING CORPORATION)

And I didn't even buy a ticket!

At the orthopedist's office

As many of my diehard fans know, Mr Charm has a broken leg for which he is getting rehabbed. To check on his progress, we had an appointment with the orthopedist who inserted unspecified metal parts in his leg.

He made the trip in a wheelchair--he still can't walk any distance. The doctor's waiting room looked like the ante-chamber to the Miracle Department at Lourdes--casts, crutches, splints, bandages and wheelchairs were the order of the day. To make the visit more memorable, the outer office featured a non-accessible door, and the inner office, where the great man and his acolytes dispense wisdom, also has a non-accessible door. These inconvenient doors were each in a tight corner, making them even more challenging for the halt and the lame. The only thing missing was a spiral staircase.

Fortunately, a couple of the able-bodied patients or their companions held the doors for us.

The inner office is decorated with pictures of various bones you might break if so inclined. I made a note to myself to avoid breaking any of them if at all possible.

Mr Charm's leg is coming along nicely.

Deja vu all over again

Obama wants Puerto Rico to have a referendum on whether they want statehood or what. It seems we did this already, didn't we? Are we just going to continue to hold these referendums (referenda?) until the Puerto Ricans decide the matter in the "right" way, or to Obama's satisfaction?

I thought these matters were decided once and for all. Puerto Rico had a referendum. They decided on their current status. It's over. They don't vote for president. And they don't pay income tax. A trade-ff they are probably glad to make.

Are we going to allow Arizona--for instance--to decide whether they still want to be a State, or if not, what they would like to do? Perhaps they would like to be a province of Canada or Brazil. Why not? Oh, I forgot--the Civil War.

Don't take my Weiner away from me

My father died in April, my husband broke his leg and my portfolio has taken a nose dive...The only source of innocent merriment available to me has been The Weiner Story, the unfolding of which took my mind off all this stuff.

Now President Obama wants Weiner to resign! Let Weiner remain in Congress--he is the gift that keeps on giving.

The money from Internet scammers...

just keeps rolling in.

I received this e-mail this morning:

We wish to inform you that We have sent $5000.00 USD already ,that was
given to you by the European Union, as we are mandated to send you the
total sum of $300,000USD through Western Union.send name, address,phone
number.Processing your first payment of 5,000 USD.to collect /
Sender;s first name:Nelson last name:Rowland Mtcn: 2774950359

You are required to check your transfer status online at our link for
confirmation by clicking on the link below:
https://wumt.westernunion.com/asp/orderstatus.asp?country=global

Regards
Rev Jose Alex
Phone:+447424262370
E-mail: western.uniondept1@helixnet.cn

Gosh.

About government corruption

I'm reading a book called "Jersey Sting," about a bunch of crooked government officials and others who were caught in a sting in--believe it or not--New Jersey.

It is totally understandable how a situation like this comes about.  Our elected representatives--municipal, state, federal--makes laws, which are then interpreted by unelected bureaucrats, which create rules about zoning, safety, etc, which makes accomplishing anything slower and more expensive for business.  The creators of capital who want to build something realize that the only way to get anything done is to bribe the bureaucrats and politicians.  So they do, and projects go forward.  And everyone is happy, until they all get arrested and go to jail.

Don't get me wrong.  The crooks, particularly the elected ones, are betraying a public trust and richly deserve to go to jail.   But the system as it stands is an invitation to corruption which few can resist.

Incorruptible government officials are often worse.  My friend who wanted to build a house on acreage she owned in California was thwarted by a bureaucrat who arbitrarily denied her request and made it stick.  Perhaps she should have bribed him, but did not, but  he was implacably opposed to her project and was able to prevail.  So my friend now owns a piece of expensive land that is essentially useless to her.

Couldn't some of this be avoided by having fewer public officials, any of whom can throw a monkey wrench into any  plan?

And then there the environmentalists and the NIMBY folks.  Sigh.

Musical notations for life

Very useful.

Especially  grumposo and grumposo ma non troppo.

From willtypeforfood.

Teaching hospitals can kill you

This has a special resonance with me, as a teaching hospital recently killed my father.  True, he was 99 and needed a pacemaker; but did he really need one that was infected due to carelessness?

There is ample evidence that this infection killed him; his body, at his age, could not fight off the infection.

What angers me is that the lounge chair in which they had placed him had a thick layer of dust on its platform.  When I mentioned this to one of the nurses, she stated, "That is not our first priority,"  the inference being that she was too busy saving lives to worry about mere cleanliness and did not need to be taught her work by clods such as me.

I also noticed hospital personnel coming and going from his room without gloving or sanitizing their hands.

Isn't scrupulous cleanliness the minimum one can expect from a hospital?

Library satisfaction

There is a new survey on job satisfaction at Library Journal, and it led me to ponder a library personnel issue: full-timers vs part-timers.  To put it in more understandable terms, there is plenty of gravy to go around, but it's not on everybody's mashed potatoes.

The only libraries I know are in New Jersey, so my conclusions are strictly about that state.  Benefits were generous at most libraries I've dealt with in 28 years of library administration.  For professionals, 20 days vacation to start, 15 paid holidays, 15 days of cumulative sick leave.  Add to this enrollment in the pension system, paid health insurance, and the availability of deferred tax accounts, and you have another 30-40 percent of non-taxable income.  Not bad.

Full-time non-professionals don't get quite as many vacation days, but otherwise the benefits are the same.  In addition, if your library has civil service status, you are virtually fireproof, except for egregious misbehavior.

For part-timers, nothing is guaranteed.  New Jersey insists that employees earning over a certain amount must be enrolled in the pension plan, unless they are temporary.  High school students, for example.  Under civil service rules, there are procedures for firing staffers, but they don't have to be fired, their hours can be cut to almost zero.  No vacation, no sick leave, no anything.  Libraries have been known to hire two employees who each work 20 hours a week so as to avoid offering benefits to either.  Their pay is abysmal, too.

This  is analogous to the faculty situation in universities, where tenured professors teach two courses each while adjuncts do all the heavy lifting.  The adjuncts, meanwhile, have about as much chance of gaining tenured status as they do of winning the lottery--no, make that the Irish Sweepstakes.

Is it any wonder that these serfs and vassals are joining unions to get a fair shake?

An ominous sound

I came home on Sunday afternoon to an ominous sound.  A noise, sounding like a cross between an off-balance clothes dryer and  a  power lawnmower, threatened to shake the house down.

My attitude toward household appliances combines utter dependence  with fear and loathing.  The basement is usually the venue where ghastly noises originated.  But all the appliances were sitting there looking innocent.  There was no water on the floor. The central air conditioner was softly huffing, but it was a hot day, so it had an alibi.  I looked at the circuit breaker box, but all was calm there.

Was one of the neighbors was mowing their lawn with a clothes dryer?   Then again, maybe the sound would go away--denial works wonders, at least in the short run.  I heard it a few more times, then it stopped, an encouraging  sign.  Whatever it was, maybe I had been hearing its death throes.

That night, as I was preparing for bed, the racket resumed.  It was louder in my clothes closet.  The plumbing works are inside the walls, where they can't be seen, aren't they?  I decided to call the plumber in the morning.

After a night of broken sleep being serenaded by the sinister appliance six or seven times, I thought of the attic fan which supposedly exists, if the previous owner was to be believed. I had never heard the thing operate, and the rooms upstairs are  hotter than the downstairs ones, so I had forgotten about it.   In the 28 years we owned our New Jersey house, I had never gone into the attic, although Mr Charm had.  He described it as a hot, stuffy, low-cieilinged crawl space.

I finally found an attic fan contractor who is coming Friday, either to fix the thing or put it out of its misery.  Meanwhile, the noise is gone.  For now.

Fraters Libertas: There's A Program For That

Fraters Libertas: There's A Program For That

I think there's a simpler reason for all the testing.  Follow the money.  The schools get more money for "special needs" children, so there is a temptation to place more and more children in that category.  Good idea for school district.  Not a good idea for the child.

A friend of mine who is a school psychologist told me that if a kid is pigeonholed into one of these programs it is impossible to get out.  The tag sticks to the child through his whole academic career and he is labeled a "problem," or "learning-disabled" when he is no such thing.

A Valentine out of season

This is a love letter to the Delaware Symphony.  The season just completed was an artistic triumph. Their performance of Mahler's Second (Resurrection)Symphony was awesome, a word I don't use lightly.  It was one of the most moving orchestral performances I've ever heard and invites comparison with the very best orchestras in the world, like the New York Philharmonic or the Boston Symphony, even though the Delaware's resources don't come close to matching those of the bigger, wealthier groups.

Residents of Delaware, do you know what a jewel you have?  Please support the orchestra, and even better, purchase a season's ticket for the upcoming season.  You'll be glad you did!

Polishing dog turds.

How many ways can you say broccoli?

Broccoli is very big these days, in many guises.  I've had it raw, I've had it cooked.  Sauteed with baby carrots.  Some of it is purple, some has been mated with cauliflower. Broccolini is everywhere.  Broccoli shoots ditto.  But the other day, I was served something broccolish which I did not recognize.  It consisted of little knobs, half the size of Brussels sprouts.  Since it was served with butter and pancetta, it tasted pretty good.  Turns out it was baby broccoflower.

What is next for the broccoli family?  I await developments.

A mistake to prosecute John Edwards?

I will leave it to the legal pundits to disentangle this one.  Instead, I'd like to ask a question first poised by our beloved President:  "Isn't it ever possible to have enough money?"  The answer clearly is no, since no wealthy person ever wants to shell out his own money for anything if it is possible to avoid it.

John Edwards paid upwards of $200 for a haircut.  Couldn't he have rented a cozy love nest for his girlfiriend out of his personal funds?  The man had the largest house in North Carolina! *

*Or was it South Carolina?

The Anthony Weiner situation

Aren't tightie-whities supposed to be white?

This is pleasant news

A garden to comfort relatives of fallen soldiers.

Bessie Coleman, aviation pioneer

Every Memorial Day, black men and women aviators fly in formation over the grave of Bessie Coleman, dropping bouquets of flowers on the grave of the first black woman ever to earn a pilot's license.
Coleman was born in 1892, the twelfth of thirteen children. The family earned their living picking cotton. It was an impoverished existence, and as her siblings reached adulthood two of them left for Chicago, where opportunities were better.

Bessie Coleman followed when she grew up. She trained as a manicurist and got a job at the White Sox Barber Shop, situated on the Stroll,an 8-block section of State Street where black-owned businesses flourished. It was there that she encountered Robert S. Abbott, the editor of the Chicago Defender, a prominent newspaper read widely in the black community.

She developed a desire to become a pilot, inspired by stories of the derring-do of the Wolrd War I flying aces. This was an unthinkable ambition for a black woman at the time. Yet Abbott saw something of the potential in Bessie, and offered her financial help to attend a French flying school. He guessed that she would make great copy, and he was right. On her return from France with her pilot's license, she was greeted by representatives of both the black and white press.

Beautiful and flamboyant, she became an overnight sensation. Barnstorming and stunt flying were all the rage at the time, and no one's exploits were more daring than Coleman's. She became a hero to the black community, who dubbed her "Queen Bess." Her ambition was to start a flight school for black people, to encourage them to follow careers in the promising new field of aviation.

Her career was fraught with peril: many of the barnstorming stunts were daring and dangerous. Coleman also suffered from a lack of sufficient funds and therfore often relied on decrepit and unsafe planes. In California, on February 4, 1922, a plane she was piloting stalled at 300 feet, smashing into the ground. She suffered multiple injuries which landed her in the hospital for three months.

Undaunted, she relocated to Texas and resumed her barnstorming career. She had previously performed in the North, to appreciative white audiences. She now visited venues mainly in the South, where African Americans were her most enthusiastic fans. They opened their homes and hearts to her. Colemans' beauty, skill and daring inspired her African American fans.

According to her niece, "The airplanes she was flying, they were just old things....They weren't worth a darn." The lack of adequate funds did not stop her, however, from planning a flight in Jacksonville, FL. in a ramshackle plane.

Coleman was planning a parachute stunt, so she went up to scout the territory with her mechanic, William Wills, at the controls. Wills lost control of the plane, and Coleman, with neither seat belt nor parachute, was hurled to her death. She was 34 years old.

Her influence, however, lived on. Within a few years William Powell founded the Bessie Coleman Aero Club, both to honor her and to inspire other African Americans to follow her example. Her dream lived on, and still lives on to this day.

Curls

My latest painting.

Trolls need to improve their vocabularies

I moderate comments on my blog and do not permit trolls to express their opinions.  I like my blog to feature only constructive and laudatory comments.  It just seems to go better that way, at least for me.

Here's my advice to my troll(s).  Your vocabulary lacks variety and originality.  Calling someone a fascist is not an unassailable  argument.  Try to learn a new word every day, starting with words of one syllable and working your way up to multisyllabic words.  You might even entertain an original thought from time to time, or is that too much to ask?

Borrowed relatives

Since I ran out of amusing family members, I thought I'd borrow a few from a friend.  This is about some relatives of hers.

The couple had been married over 60 years, but still disagreed about many things, including a big thing--where to live.  He wanted to live in a brownstone in Brooklyn; she wanted to live on a family farm she'd inherited, on a hilltop somewhere in New Hampshire.   The hilltop was inaccessible during a snowstorm, which is just one objection.  It was remote, far from their children and anyone they knew--except one of her sisters, who she wasn't speaking to anyway.

They lived on the farm, but out of spite he would not permit her to install a furnace.  So this old lady, in her eighties, chopped wood and heated her house with  a wood-burning stove.  It didn't seem to do her any harm.

He was dictatorial--a European of the old school.  So he ruled the roost.  He told her what she could do, and what she couldn't do--watch certain television shows, play the radio, or smoke cigarettes.  So he got his way in everything, except living on the farm, of course.

He died at 92, leaving her a widow.  She immediately installed a furnace in the house and took up smoking cigarettes.

Kindle? Or Nook?

I never wanted either one, but trying to read Margaret Thatcher's memoirs in bed led me to reconsider.  One volume easily weighs nine pounds--and there are three.

I haven't the least notion of the pros and cons of these gadgets.  Anyone?

I'm famous for buying gadgets I can't figure out how to use.  Speakerphone. mp-3 player, bluetooth.  So I need something idiotproof.

Mr Evans Cox is cursory

I feel cheated that Mr Evans Cox--nice name!--is so perfunctory in his attempt to swindle me.  It seems like his heart isn't really in it.

There is a business i will like you to handle with me which will be very
profitable to both of us.
For more information concerning this transaction contact via email.

I feel insulted!  You're not getting my money that easily!  What about that Ugandan business partner, or the funds in the Swiss bank account, which most of my swindlers mention.  And the request for my social security number or bank account, where is that?

Blogger is becoming unworkable

Blogger is so hard to use lately.  The most recent headache is the inability to link to another site, which makes blogger almost useless.  There is absolutely no customer service, nobody is minding the store.  We are supposed to solve problems by discussing them on "forums," where we pool our ignorance.

This is not a struggling start-up, folks.  Blogger is owned by Google, a company whose shares are putatively worth a lot of money.  I bet they have a company cafeteria for the employees as well as a gym, and maybe a jogging track.  Would it kill them to sub-contract customer service to a call center in India?

Seen at the nursing home

Mr Charm has a broken leg and is getting it rehabbed at a nursing home.  It's a nice one, it couldn't be nicer, but it's a sad place to visit.  Some of the people are very old, some look like  marionettes who have lost the strings which held them together.  Some are barely conscious.  I should say, barely sentient.  Their relatives visit and try to talk to them, but it's a maximum effort with minimal results.

Yesterday a man brought his father's dog to visit him.  The father said, to the dog:  "You and I used to do everything and go everywhere together"  as he caressed his pet.   It was a poignant moment.

I've been thinking about my father's last illness which ended in his death.  He declined suddenly and his last months were rough, but he was master of his fate until almost the end.

Rushing the growler

I was informed by a good authority, an Irish guy who grew up in Jersey City, that "rushing the growler" meant sending the kids to the local tavern to bring back a pitcher of beer.  Why growler, I don't know, but the reason for the rush seems obvious--dad was thirsty and wanted his beer ASAP.

Frater libertas puts a slightly different spin on it.

Little girls in tree

Of pedicures and the government

Medicare pays podiatrists to cut the toenails of seniors.  The last time I looked, the government paid Dr X $65 to cut Mr Charm's toenails.  To reach Dr X, we needed an appointment, and upon arrival, we had to walk down a long hall, Mr Charm had to climb up in a chair, and wait.  And wait.

So I am bypassing the government.  I now take Mr Charm (and myself) to the Vietnamese nail salon.  No appointment.  We park in the handicapped parking spot, Mr Tran comes out with a chair and helps Mr Charm into it.  He helps him climb into the pedicure chair.  Then he washes his feet up to the knees, scrubs the bottoms of his feet and removes any rough skin, and gives his legs a nice, soothing massage.  He also cuts Mr Charm's fingernails.  For this we pay $35, plus tip.

Why doesn't the government pay Mr Tran or his staff to cut toenails?  Dr X could sub-contract the task. Mr Tran could be a paraprofessional, a parapodiatrist, if you like.

Dsitinguishing one terrorist group from another

The Economist has a long disquisition this week in which it analyzes and explains in detail the differences between the various terrorist groups who are plaguing mankind.  Very erudite and impressive, I'm sure.  If you need to know the difference between al Queda in Iraq and other branches of this unholy alliance, you can read the article at the link.

I don't think there is any significant difference among them.  They are all enemies of mankind, thugs and murderers.  And they are not retired murderers and thugs, sated for the time being and content to rest on their laurels.  They are still actively seeking innocents to destroy, as they destroyed a three-month-old Israeli baby in her crib.

The Economist explains it  as one would explain the difference between  Rotary and  the Lions Club or the difference between Unitarianism and Roman Catholicism. None of this matters.  The salient fact about terrorists, whatever flag they fly, is that they are murderous thugs.

Much is made of the fact that Osama bin Laden was or was not given a proper Muslim funeral ceremony.  I think the least important difference between religious groups is the disposition of the dead.  It is a housekeeping decision.  Burn them or bury them, say prayers over them or not, dead bodies must be disposed of for the good of the living.

How do we know Osama is really dead?

Do we need pictures of his dead body?

How do we know Hitler is really dead?

Should I work some more on this one?

Or sign and frame it? I thought it came out pretty well.

I don't know how much of this book I read...

before I concluded that it was hogwash.  Quite a bit, actually.  I think I read it until he started having heart-to-heart talks with the Taliban, or al-Queda, or some other stone killers who just rolled over and acted like pussy cats when he let loose the charm.  It seemed a bridge too far.  It had a few things going for it: 
Exotic setting--check.  Noble altruism--check.  Appealing kids--ditto.  You want to believe life is like that.  That the only thing standing in the way of educating little girls in a hellhole like that is lack of motivation.

In truth, it takes a lot of work to get anything organized, from the U S government to a library book sale.  Sigh.  I should have known.

My first thought on watching this was:

 This woman has to have gone to Harvard. So glib, so self-assured, so dead wrong  Another Jamie Gorelick, leading her country over a cliff with complete confidence..

I beat Dell

I've been pissed at Dell, once my favorite computer company, for years. We've been buying their products for years, and were happy until Dell sold Mr Charm a computer that didn't work. We called the company and got the usual runaround, the one where they imply with more or less contempt that you are an idiot.

Reader, it never worked. I blamed Mr Charm and he blamed me and we both blamed Best Buy. But when Mr C was in the hospital the first time, no-one could remember his password. So I took the computer to Staples and they couldn't fix it. The problem was a defective motherboard. Turns out the Dell Corporation knew these motherboards were no good but shipped out a number of them nevertheless just in case the consumers didn't notice. Or they might work. Or something.

The latest dust-up was about another of the computers we bought from them. (We bought about ten in the space of four years. Dumb? Yes.) They raised their rates in the middle of our financial disputes and started assessing penalties, late charges, interest, etc etc. By this time the amount owed had snowballed to the point where you would have thought we had bought a private jet.

At some point I stopped paying them. And they started calling me. I told them to stop calling and to sue me if they thought they had a case.

So--they sued me. I received a very legal looking notice which was supposed to scare me, I guess, but both my parents were lawyers and gave me legal documents to draw on the back of, so I had seen plenty of them.

So I wrote a letter to the Court explaining that I had plenty of time and would be defending myself pro se and requesting certain information. They sent me copies of spreadsheets that meant nothing to me, but they postponed the trial date. I was supposed to see them in Court on April 29.

Well, they finally called off the lawsuit. Dell Computer Co, it turns out, is a paper tiger. Nyahhh!

Shopping cart multiculturalism

 

Seen at a shopping center near me.

A Gregor Samsa moment

Something awful happened to me this morning. No, I didn't turn into a cockroach, sorry to disappoint you. But when I opened the morning newspaper, I realized I could not read it with my 2.00 reading glasses! Overnight my vision had worsened.

I had to go to the dollar store and buy six new pairs of readers in 2.50 before I could face life.

Let's close fraternities

They might upset some of the girls.

This woman strikes me as a person whose sensibilities are too delicate for modern society:

My fourth night at [the University of Virginia] , I went with some friends to Rugby Road, where the fraternity houses are located. They are built of the same Jeffersonian architecture as the rest of the campus. At once august and moldering, they seemed sinister, to stand for male power at its most malevolent and institutionally condoned. I remember standing there thinking I'd made a terrible mistake. It wasn't worth it, I decided. The next day I withdrew from the university.

I hope nobody ever tells her that half the human race are males. I don't know whether she could withstand the shock.

Shame on the Wall Street Journal for publishing drivel like this.

How could I skip Poetry Month?

My mind is coming unglued. I always, always celebrate Poetry Month!

so, a poem:

There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons--
That opresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes--

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us--
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the meanings are--

None may teach it--Any--
'Tis the Seal Despair--
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air--

When it comes, the Landscape listens--
Shadows--hold their breath--
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death--

-- Emily Dickinson

Whew! That was close!

Speaking of poetry, I've always thought T S Eliot's "April is the cruelest month" absolute rot. You want a cruel month, Tom? Try February in Nebraska. You'll find it way crueler than April. April is pretty. Flowering trees flower. Spring flowers spring.

Another poem, more cheerful this time:

AS kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came.

Í say móre: the just man justices;
Kéeps gráce: thát keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is—
Chríst—for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

I used to like Hopkins more than I do now. I do like several of his poems, though.

Both these poets lived in obscurity--poetic obscurity, that is. Neither was published in his or her lifetime. That has got to suck, no? I would hate to be posthumously famous. However, there is no danger of this at present. For one thing, I am not dead.

By the way, it is also Occupational Therapy Month. Let's hear it for the OT workers!

This is the painting I am working on now

 

If I ever have time.

Here we go again.

People are getting ready for Passover.

When I was a child seders seemed to last for eons. All my mother's family, my parents, my two uncles and their wives and children were always present, because anything bubbe hosted was a command performance. The good linens, china, and silver made the table gleam under the light of bubbe's two candelabras.

We children were excited beyond hysteria until the ceremony began, and we were forced to come to the table and stop hanging upside down from the sofa, climbing the walls, and knocking down the furniture. I particularly enjoyed the presence of my cousins because I was an only child at the time, and lonely. My eldest cousin, three and a half years older than me, was a goddess of sophistication to me; her brothers were rowdy playmates. Uncle Doc's little girls were too young to play with but they were mighty cute and dressed to the nines.

Once the youngest child present had recited the four questions the prayer competition began. Both my uncles and my cousin Bernie read the haggadah aloud --individually--in Hebrew as quickly as they could. The conversation went like this:

Uncle I: It's time for the first (or second, third, or fourth) cup of wine.
Uncle II: I haven't gotten there yet. You read too fast.
Uncle I: It's a long service.
Uncle II: All right, all right. Come on everybody. Drink the fourth (or third, or second) cup. Where's the bottle? Pass me the wine, somebody.

They raced through the prayers and then had to stop and wait impatiently for the others to catch up. It was rather like riding in a car that alternately speeded up and stopped dead, causing you to lurch forward and back.

Meanwhile, my cousin Sam and sometimes one or two of the other children would drink too much wine and slip quietly to the floor. It taught me the meaning of drinking yourself under the table. After a brief nap the culprit would re-appear, refreshed.

The two little girls were too small to read, so they raced around the table fighting with each other until Uncle Doc started yelling at them and threatening to spank them. My aunt, his wife, would burst into tears because he had shouted at the girls. She would threaten to leave. They would yell some more until he calmed down and apologized to the girls and gave them some candy or gum he just happened to have in his pocket. The girls, of course, would stuff themselves with sweets and would not eat the festive meal when it appeared.

The festive meal! Chicken soup with matzoh balls. We called bubbe's matzoh balls cannon balls. They were heavy but nourishing. Then we had chicken. With the chicken came potato kugel and chopped liver. Gefilte fish. Someone probably slipped a green vegetable in there somewhere, but I don't remember it. Bubbe didn't hold with all this greenery anyway. Her idea of a salad was: take one cucumber; add pint of sour cream; eat. And we couldn't have that, this was a fleisheke meal.

Bubbe would heap each of the children's plates with massive portions of food and then bawl them out for not eating it all. We were starved and ate voraciously. If someone had thrown one of us into the river we would have plummeted to the bottom and sunk without a trace.


Dessert featured, but was not limited to, Manischevitz macaroons, served in the can. The featured wine was Mogen David.

After eating, there was a timeout while the children searched for the afikomen and the adults sat still and burped.

Since I was not used to staying up late, the remainder of the seder was one big blur to me, except for opening the door for Eliyahu hanovi. Then came Chad Gadya, which meant the end of the service and blessed release.

And then we did it again the next night.