From the Treetop

Stopping to Smell the Roses

Quote du Jour: "There are many ways to be free. One of them is to transcend reality by imagination, as I try to do." - Anais Nin

I like doing the Blog thing in the morning because for some odd reason I'm more creative in the morning. I say odd because I'm not really a morning person. I get up at 5:00 am and sort of veg out here at my computer until 8:00. It takes me that long to wake up. If I got up at 7:30 or 8:00,
I wouldn't wake up until it was time for lunch.

This morning I spent too much time vegging, so I didn't get a chance to write anything. So here it is 8:12 pm EST and I'm finally writing.

I seem to do my best thinking while I'm in the car driving to work which is very frustrating because I can't stop to write anything down and I usually forget the most brilliant of these thoughts once I get to work. They were brilliant, weren't they. I didn't just imagine that?
Nah!

I bought one of those little tape recorders awhile back, but that's as bad as trying to use a cell phone while driving. Doesn't work very well - especially if you're like me and can't walk and chew gum at the same time without biting your tongue or tripping over your own feet.

I used to take a highway route to work - Route 4 east to Route 17 north if any of you are familiar with the area - but they've been doing construction where 4 and 208 meet and it's been a nightmare. I had found a back way during the reconstruction of the 4 and 17 interchange last
year, but I only used it to come home at night. In the mornings I'm usually operating on auto-pilot, and changing the route seemed to be too much of a challenge. Now I like a good challenge, mind you, but not in the mornings. I can't concentrate on driving and creativity at the same time. Usually, it's the driving that loses.

So now I take this back route and I'm finding it far superior. It's relaxing. There's no one driving so close they can honk my horn for me. There's no one (well, almost no one) cutting me off. There's no trucks. No buses. No fender-benders to tie up traffic. It's wonderful.

Yesterday, I saw a cardinal sitting in a bush. There are often ducks swimming in the brook that runs along the road at one point. One street is very narrow and lined with big old Victorian houses. Tall trees create make a canopy over head. Bare branches trace black patterns
over the sky right now, but I know that soon they will provide a bright green bower.

As I drive along, I wonder about the people who live in the houses. I wonder why they've chosen this color paint, or that kind of trim. I wonder why the owners of the very large home at the corner of Spring and Irving have chosen to build a whole other house at the back end of their
existing house. Why do they need all that room? I'm disappointed that the new owners of the grey house with the purple door painted it black. Now the house is just another house, while before it made a statement. Guess they didn't like what it said.

I wonder if the people who live by the brook like living near the water enough to put up with the occasional flood. I watch the people jogging or walking their dogs and wonder which house belongs to them. And by the time I get to work, I'm in a much better frame of mind than I would
be if I joined the throng of cars jostling for space on the too-crowded highway.

Once they finish the construction, I don't think I'll be changing my route. It's become too much of a stop and smell the roses kind of thing.

This 'n' that

Quote of the DayHousework is a treadmill from futility to oblivion with stop offs at tedium and counter productivity. -- Erma Bombeck

I always have lots to say, but today I don't have time enough to say it. Busy, Busy. So I'll just post a few hit and run items

I got my first Blogpliment today via NJ Meryl. ::Blush:: Thanks!

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As I've mentioned before, I collect quotes. Yesterday I found a really great source for them. The ONFOCUS site is verra nice as well.

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I also really like the design of this site --> Mark Howells Online. He has some good CSS tips - check 'em out!

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Quick Meal Tip: Ronzoni tomato basil linguine topped with Knorr pesto sauce and grated cheese (I prefer Romano). Takes about 15 minutes. Yum!

Self-reclamation Projects

Quote of the Day: "Cats aren't clean, they're just covered with cat spit." - Anonymous

I'm still tinkering with the design and code of this template I made. I just doesn't say "me," yet. Bear with me, please - it's a work in progress. I want to include a comments pop-up, but I haven't quite figured out how to do it. I know there's a hard way, but I'm hoping to find an easy way. I'm hoping to win the lottery too - we'll see which comes first. Which reminds me of something my mother always said, "Spit in one hand and wish in the other and see which you get first." Well she didn't say "spit," but she didn't say say the other four letter word that has three of the same letters either. She hated that word, so I won't say it here either, just in case she's sitting on my shoulder reading as I write this.

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In case you hadn't noticed, I put a "Soul" button at the bottom of my BlogRoll. Don't be afraid to click it. It's kind of a neat little pop-up window that will take you to some really great personal sites. I agree with them that personal sites are indeed the Soul of the Web

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Thanks to Martin from The Evolt Chat List I found this note on Google this morning. Very cool, Google people. BTW - they're hiring if you live or want to live in the San Francisco Bay area.

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I started to write about my Self-Reclamation project the other day, but Blogger didn't want me adding what I wrote to the previous post. I had places to go; people to see, so I didn't have time to wrestle with it. I shall continue today.

I finally got to pick up my treadmill from Sears on Saturday. It's key element in my self-Reclamation Project. This is half health-consciousness and half weight loss effort, and I really need it.

I used to be thinner. I also used to be healthier because I used to exercise a lot, but then I got involved with the internet and the web <g> - and then my health club went out of business. Now I'm a mess.

I also used to be one of those annoying people who could eat like a pig and never gain an ounce. I guess it's payback time. Big time.

When I was a kid I was skinny - all arms and legs. Mostly because I wasn't interested in food. I was one of those picky eaters. Long about high school, I decided that food was a good thing, but I was still skinny. I could drop 10 pounds during a 3 day cold (stuffy noses = loss
of appetite). I hated it. Clothes looked better on the hangers than they did on me.

As I got older, I could still lose any weight that I did gain without much effort. But I guess now I'm at that age (I'm not telling - you have to guess) where the metabolism starts slowing down. They tell me it does that. There's research to prove it, so it's not just an excuse <g>. For whatever the reason, as each year passes I keep adding more and more inches to my waistline, kind of like a tree adds rings. I really think they need some serious medical research into this problem. Why does metabolism slow down? Makes no sense to me.

To combat this, I've been reading up on metabolism and I've learned that there are foods that will nudge your metabolism up a bit - namely fruit and veggies. An enzyme complex like Enzymatic Therapy's Mega-zyme will help too. So they tell me. We'll see. I do seem to have more energy.

So I've been eating more fruits and veggies by making a daily trip to Whole Foods Market. They have the best salad bar with all kinds of goodies - not just your ordinary salad fixings. They also have a phenomenal bakery - but that's kind of counterproductive if you also want to lose weight.

I also know that if you exercise it increases your metabolism - especially if you work with weights, because muscle burns calories at a higher rate. So that brings me full circle back to the treadmill. I hope to increase my stamina and aerobic health with all the energy I've been getting from the fruits, veggies and enzymes. If this self-authored program works, I'll put some tips here and in the Kitchen of my Victorian house - once I finish the renovations, that is. On the web house - not me <g>.

You should know that I'm not getting fanatical about this. I'm not on my way to becoming a "health nut." I'm just not the fanatical type. Fanatical types kind of scare me, if you want to know the truth, but more on that some other day, or I'll never get this posted.

They Don't Make Store Clerks Like They Used To

Today's Quote: "Don't take life too seriously. You'll never get out of it alive." - Elbert Hubbard

Katmudgeon's Korner^tm
They don't make store clerks like they used to. Grocery store clerks seem - to me anyway - to be the worst. Doesn't anyone outside of the high priced stores like Nordstrom's practice customer service anymore?

I used to do all my grocery shopping in the Rochelle Park Shop-Rite. I think everyone in Bergen county shops there. I've met people in there that I haven't seen in years. People who don't necessarily live that close to Rochelle Park. People who have grocery stores in their own towns. Yet they all come to the Rochelle Park Shop-Rite. I have a theory
that if you stand in front of the Rochelle Park Shop-Rite long enough, you will meet everyone you know. Even if they live in Australia or Timbuktu.

Did I mention that I hate grocery shopping? I do. The Rochelle Park Shop-Rite used to make grocery shopping a bit more tolerable. They kept the store fairly well-stocked. They had all the brands I wanted in the sizes I wanted. The meat department was pretty good and the prices were reasonable. Lately, I've been leaving there muttering under my breath about one thing or another. This is not a good sign.

A couple of months ago it got harder to find a paper bag in that store. The clerks didn't ask, "Paper or plastic?" anymore. They just dumped everything into those flimsy plastic bags without even hesitating long enough for a customer to say, "I want paper, please."

hate those plastic bags almost as much as I hate grocery shopping. You need twice as many. They are not as recyclable as paper bags. And when you put them in the trunk of your car the contents spill all over the place. I want paper bags - preferably the old thick double bag kind, not these thin puny bags they give you now. I'll take them stuffed inside the plastic bags, if I must, but I really wish the stores would go back to giving us real bags.

So as I said, they're getting scarce. I usually pack my own groceries because that's another thing they don't do right anymore. They throw a pound of ground beef in the bottom, then throw a few cans on top so it gets all squashed down and the plastic wrapping breaks. Hey it's already ground. What's the big deal? Or they'll put a super gigantic size
bottle of detergent in with 3 liters of seltzer. Arnold Schwarzennegger couldn't lift that bag! Or a 6 pack of toilet paper and nothing else. I'll pack my own groceries, thank you very much - but I digress. I was talking about the bags.

If there aren't any paper bags at the end of the check-out counter, I look at the counters on both sides first, then if I don't see any there, I ask for them. A few months ago, I did just that. The clerk rolled her eyes.

"I don't have any," she says.

"Can you get some, please?" I ask. "I prefer paper. Perhaps one of the other cashiers has some."

But that would be too logical, wouldn't it. To ask one of your co-workers if they have extra.

"They don't have any either," she replies, throwing my groceries into yellow plastic bags.

"Well, can you get the manager, please," I ask. "I don't want all my groceries in plastic bags."

She continues to throw my groceries into the plastic bags. "I think he's over in the produce aisle," she says, waving her hand in that direction. My mind is boggled. I, the customer, have to go find the manager in the produce aisle - which means I have to go out of the store, then back in because it's the only way to get there at this point - and ask for bags
- which are supposed to be here in the first place - and then what am I supposed to do? (does that sentence win an award for the ramblingest sentence ever?)

Am I supposed to repack my groceries right there in produce? I think not.

I tell the cashier, "No, you can get the manager." - I'm all out of pleases now, and what do they have those flashing lights for if not to call the manager. In the mean time, I'm warning people trying to get on line behind me, that they probably want to rethink their choice of check-out.

With heavy sigh and a harrumph (people really do harrumph - I've heard them. It's not just something you read in books) - the clerk signals the manager that she has a problem. Moi?

He comes over. "What's the problem?" he asks gruffly. "There are no paper bags," I say. Are you no longer providing them?" ( I really suspect that the stores would like to do exactly that to cut down costs)

"Go get some paper bags," he tells a stock clerk. "Are you happy now?" he asks me in a sarcastic tone.

No actually, I'm not. Due to this incident and a few others - like having no Friskies cat food (my
cats' preferred brand) because "it just went off sale" (This is an excuse?) - I'm doing a lot less grocery shopping in the Rochelle Park Shop-Rite.

I've begun to take much of my food-shopping business up to Whole Foods Market in Ridgewood. Like Nordstroms, this is a high end kind of store, but they have quality products to match the higher prices. They go out of their way to help you and they always ask, "Paper or Plastic?"

The cashiers there still hand you the receipt and the paper money first, then put the coins on top of it which makes it very difficult to put in your wallet without spilling the coins all over the place. But at least they hand it to you nicely, and with a smile, instead of just throwing it in the general direction of your hand while they chat with the cashier at the next check out.

Marge's Mighty Sword

Today's Quote: "Beneath the rule of men entirely great, The pen is mightier than the sword." - George Bulwer-Lytton

I started to write a long rambling account of my relationship with my mother including bits and pieces of her life, but it got too long and too rambling, so instead I'll just tell you about Marge's Mighty Sword.

George Bulwer-Lytton wrote, "Beneath the rule of men entirely great, The pen is mightier than the sword." My mother took those words to heart. She was always writing letters.

Mostly she wrote to friends and relatives - chatty little letters brimming with tidbits of news and daily events. But every now and then she would ply her pen to more militant issues. She wrote to manufacturers to express dissatisfaction when one of their products did not meet her expectations. Occasionally she would write to tell them how pleased she was with their products as well. This often resulted in coupons, free samples and replacement products. She wrote to senators and congressional representatives to share her thoughts on various topics, and she sometimes wrote letters to the editors of newspapers, but she preferred to correspond
with individuals rather than the mass media.

Once she heard the owners of a no-kill animal shelter on a radio talk show. They were there to solicit support for their cause - money to keep the shelter going. She sent them a few dollars, but felt she had to do more. The thought occurred to her that while she didn't have a lot of money to send them, she did have an abundance of time ... and her trusty pen.

She recalled reading about several celebrities who were associated with various animal rights groups. Thinking that perhaps, they would be willing to support the local shelter's efforts, she wrote her letters. She sent letters to Doris Day, Cleveland Amery, Betty White and a few others. She did her part, but she didn't really expect much in the way of results. To her great surprise, Betty White responded.

She sent the shelter a very generous donation, and she answered my mother's letter. To my mother's even greater surprise, the shelter folks told the radio station, who in turn called my mother for an interview. Not to be out done, the local paper called as well. My mother was suddenly in the spotlight. Her fifteen minutes of fame had come at last!

Margie's mighty pen was most effective, however, when she wielded it in the name of a campaign. When fired with a just cause, she was relentless. In her finest hour, she took on the US Postal Service.

In 1990, having finally abandoned South Venice, Florida as a retirement location - too hot and crowded in the summer, too cold in the winter and too far from loved ones - my parents moved to Emmetsburg, MD.

My sister lives near Gettysburg, PA, so the move to Emmetsburg allowed my parents to be near their grandchildren once again. They found an apartment building just outside the main street area of town and settled in. After a few days, they noticed that they hadn't gotten any mail. One of them went down to the row of mailboxes at the driveway entrance to the building every
day to check, but no letters graced their box. No bills. No Modern Maturity magazine. No junk mail. Nothing.

Finding this rather odd, my mother mentioned it to one of her new neighbors. "Oh, you don't get your mail here," said the neighbor. "You have to go down to the post office to pick it up." Pick
it up? My mother couldn't believe what she was hearing. In the course of her 70+ years, the post office had always reliably delivered her mail. "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds." that was their motto, right? She and my father got in the car and drove to the post office.
"Yes, indeed,"the postal clerk confirmed. "You have to come to the post office and pick
up your mail. We don't deliver in town."

"But the mail truck goes right past our building every day," my mother replied.

"Yes, ma'am, but that's the rural delivery truck," the clerk explained. "He doesn't deliver in town."

He went on to explain that they could come in during the post office hours and pick up their mail, but if they wanted to pick it up when the post office was closed, they would have to pay for a postal box. My mother found this completely absurd. "Do the people who mail me a letter get a discount on the stamps because you don't deliver," she asked.

The clerk looked puzzled. Apparently, no one had ever asked this question before. "No, ma'am," he replied.

"Well, they're not getting the same service, because their letters are not getting delivered to me. I have to do the rest of the job, so there should be some compensation," my mother explained her reasoning.

This logic was beyond the clerk's comprehension. He just told her that's the way it was. Welcome to life in rural Maryland. Undaunted, my mother asked to speak to the postmaster.
They had a similar conversation with the same results.

"Why can't the rural delivery truck just drop off our mail on his way?" my mother asked. "He
passes right by us."

"You're not within the rural delivery zone," he explained. "I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."

Well, not for my mother. She went home and dashed off letters to her Congressional Representative, her Senator, the Postmaster General and the President of the United States. She got a form letter in return from the President, but her Congressional Representative
and the post master general Postmaster General wrote back.

The Congressional Rep said he would look into it, and the Postmaster General told her pretty
much what the postal clerk and postmaster said - those are the rules, lady.

There followed an exchange of letters among my mother, the Postmaster General, an the Congressional Representative which resulted in little progress. My mother took to including the local newspaper editor and the Mayor of Emmetsburg in her correspondence. She also began circulating a petition.

Were the residents of Emmetsburg, MD second class citizens? Were they not entitled to a simple service such as delivery of mail to their very own mailboxes?

This went on for several months, but finally my mother began to win her battle. The Postmaster General agreed to have the mail delivered as long as certain conditions were met. The main condition being that the mail boxes at my parent's apartment building had to meet the Post Office's strict criteria.

I didn't even know the PO had strict criteria. The things you learn.

My mother met with her landlord, who was willing to cooperate. He set out to make the mailboxes Post Office compliant, but they ran into another roadblock.

In order to bring the mailboxes up to code, he needed a building permit and variance of some sort. So it was on to the zoning board. More letters, more paperwork. But finally my mother prevailed.

In November of 1991, the post office began delivering mail to my parent's apartment building. Unfortunately, she didn't have long to bask in her success. She died in January of 1992.

Written in loving memory of Margaret Dawson, 1916-1992

Anything Can Happen Day

"Life is what happens when you are making other plans." - John Lennon (1940-1980)

I've been looking around at what other people have done with their Blogs - the sheer variety is amazing - and I'm starting to form a more solid idea about what mine will be like. If any of you are old enough to remember the original Mickey Mouse Club, you will probably remember that Wednesday was "Anything Can Happen Day." That's what my Blog is going to be, except every day will be "Anything Can Happen Day."

You'll never know what you might find here, because I don't know what you will find here! You will find a daily quote, because I like quotes. You will probably find the Katmudgeon's Korner^tm on Mondays - or maybe not. And you will most likely find stuff about cats, books, ice hockey, house plans, trees, and water from time to time. You will also see some changes in the style as I get more comfortable with CSS layout. I've
been doing fonts and colors and the other basic stuff for some time, but I'm really jumping into the more advanced layout features. I'm also not quite happy with the design, so I'll be changing that as well. If you're reading this in an old browser (Netscape 4.7 or less, or older versions of
Internet Explorer -5) it's not going to look pretty, but you should still be able to read it - I hope!

So that's all for today. Tomorrow is the 10th Anniversary of my mother's death, so I'll be telling you a bit about her as a tribute.

Winter Grey and Floor Plan Dreams

Today's quote: "If you obey all of the rules, you miss all of the fun." -Katherine Hepburn

As I said yesterday, there are so many things I want to write here, but I keep letting them rattle around in my head and I never seem to get them written down. My thoughts beg to be let out of my brain, but I keep them penned up. Could be like Pandora's box, you know. Once they are out here, I'll never get them back.

When I found this, I decided to see if HomeTime had plans for their House with Character
- and they do! Yay - two great house plans to add to my collection. I don't know why I have this fascination with house plans, but I've always had it. It's not so much the actual plans that keep me enthralled. It's imagining what the house would look like. If I was very, very rich, I'd have several houses in different styles. It would be sooo cool <g> I also love house tours and decorators show cases, because then I get to see inside the houses as well.

Some of the things I've been thinking about lately belong in the Katmudgeon's Korner^tm (<g> - if it hasn't been claimed, I'm claiming it), but I've decided to only do that on Mondays. It seems appropriate.

Probably the reason I've been feeling katmudgeonly^tm, is because it's January. February and March are usually the worst, but because it's January, means February and March can't be far behind. I hate this time of year. It's just so grey (my preferred spelling - seems greyer than "gray"). It's not just the fact that it gets dark early (even though at this time of year it's already starting to stay light longer). Nor is it the fact that it takes longer in the mornings to get light. It's the greyness of the days that get to me. The sky in winter is so often that dull steel color with no blue in sight. Without the brightness of the sun everything else just looks grey as well. It can get depressing.

I like the sun. The sun is my friend <g>. I feel so much more energized when the sun is
shining. The colors are rich and vibrant and I love the way the light filters through the trees and sparkles on the water. I can't wait for spring. I'm not sure what got me off on that. I suppose it was because it rained all day yesterday, and as I look out my window this morning the sky is grey once again. It seems to be clearing though, so perhaps we'll see some sun today.

On to other things ...

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I love floor plans. I know it's weird, but I collect them. I have a whole shelf full of plan books and a scrap book full of ones I've snipped or copied. I was thrilled to find that the This Old House program has the plans of their latest project online. This is a great house with a great view. I want it. <g>

I drive through Ridgewood, Ho Ho Kus (yes, this is a real town in NJ) and Glen Rock on my way to work, and I have this urge (don't start that Herbal commercial - please!) to knock on some doors and ask if I can tour their house. Somehow I don't think the homeowners would find this amusing. I keep thinking I should get a job with House and Garden or Architectural Digest,then I would have an excuse. Perhaps I missed my calling.

So if you're reading this and you live in a fabulous Victorian, Tudor-revival, shingle-style or other really interesting home and you don't mind giving a stranger a tour - drop me a line

Was this too weird <g>?

I keep writing stuff in

I keep writing stuff in my head for this, but I never seem to get the thoughts transferred to pixels. Today's the day.

I've been busy looking around for more Blogs and other neat home page links to put here. As
I've been doing this, I've discovered all sorts of verra cool stuff <g> For instance, this little "Stortrooper" that I made on the Stor site (sorry - no longer available). These little characters seem to be popping up on personal sites all over the web. Too cute!

Speaking of cute - check this out (sorry - no longer available) if you like cats and kittens. It's a kitten generator. It's one of those things like the potato chip commercial - bet you can't do just one!

As I said, I've been wandering around checking out some personal sites, and I marvel at the design ability and creativity some people possess. If you visit the Independents Day site, you can find out more about why people make a personal site or keep a Blog. The Independents Day mission is to celebrate "independent content and design from Toledo to Timbuktu." I agree wholeheartedly with them. As someone who has been wandering the web almost from the start (long about April of 1995 - and using the internet since '88), I have always thought that the people to people connection was the true wonder of the web. Yes, I shop online, and I read the news at all the big sites. I check TV programming, the weather and sports scores at the major providers
of such information, but I truly marvel at the number of people who have put themselves and their lives on line.

There is such a huge amount of sharing going on, it amazes me and restores my faith in human nature. The sheer number of sites offering tutorials and advice on any subject is astounding.
You can find free graphics for your web site or wallpaper for your desktop. Search for kindred spirits and find hundreds, perhaps thousands of like-minded people in the far corners of the world. These are people you could never have met in the narrow circle of a normal life. And then the internet evolved from the scientific exchange medium that was its original purpose into the marvelous communication tool it is today.

So here we are at the brink of world bonding. Long after the dust of the dot-com boom and bust has cleared, I'm sure there will still be commercial enterprises conducting business over the internet, but the real value of the web and its true heart and soul can be found by following the line of personal sites from link to link. Stop and say hello. Send an e-mail to the site owner. And possibly find a new friend.

Time, Time Time ...

I keep intending to write stuff here, but I keep running out of time. Time and I do not get along at all - there's never enough of it. There's too much I have to do and too much I want to do and the two are always in conflict. I've been searching for some Blogs that click, that make a connection. There are a so many interesting ones, but I want to be selective. That takes time. I've been working on a web site for our local public access TV production company - Fair Lawn Creative Cable. The first amendment is in serious jeopardy here because the town council wants to control what gets aired. So that takes up time. Guess I should write an essay about time - Eh? And with that I've run out of time

An Essay on Luck

I think a lot about luck. Mostly because I don't seem to have any. Not just good luck - thankfully, I don't have much bad luck either. I guess you could say that I'm stuck in luck neutral.

I look around and I see people who have spectacular luck - whether it be good or bad -and I wonder how that happens. How does it happen that someone is either in the right place at the right time ... or the wrong place at the wrong time?

So many of the stories I read after 9/11 were about people who were not normally in the World Trade Center, but were there on that fateful day. And then there were the people who should have been there but weren't because some circumstance delayed them. A flat tire. A missed train. A lost job. And I wonder why.

Many years ago there was a mid air collision between two planes over New York. My cousin was supposed to be on that plane. He had his ticket to return home from college, but he changed flights over the objections of his friends and family - even the ticket agent - so he could fly home a day earlier. Everyone told him to wait and take the morning flight the next
day. He had an afternoon exam and would really have to rush to make the evening flight, but he was homesick and did not want to stay in Ohio one more night.

Had he listened to everyone else, he would have been on that doomed flight.

Afterward, we all asked him if he had some sort of premonition, but he said, "No." He just wanted to come home.

Luck? Fate? Something else? Who knows.

Who knows why someone buys one "Quick Pick" lottery ticket and wins 10 million dollars, while others buy tickets faithfully and never win more than a few bucks. Some people have even won prizes over a million more than once. How do they do that?

So many actors, artists, writers labor in anonymity for years before they get a break, but some else gets a major movie on their first audition, or their first book is sold to the first editor who reads it, then becomes a best seller. Wrong place; wrong time. Right place; right time.

I hear people talk about hard work paying off. Or they proclaim that you make your own luck. Perhaps this is true in some cases, but I don't think it's true in all cases.

So what happens with luck? Why do some seem to have it in abundance - either good or bad - while others seem to have none?

I've come to the conclusion that luck flows like the jet stream or water, leaving some people in a desert, while others flourish in verdant splendor - or perhaps in a rushing torrent that destorys everything in it's path.
.
And others like me stranded somewhere in the middle.

If you live in a desert, you can move to an area with more rainfall. If the jet stream brings you freezing temperatures and lake effect snow, you can move to Arizona or Florida. But what can you do to change your luck?

Is luck, or lack of it, something we can change at all?

I ponder this question as I head for the convenience store to buy yet another lottery ticket, but at the same time I look over my shoulder warily because I certainly don't want to trade my neutral luck for bad.

Katmudgeon's Korner

I should have the temporary home page up at my web site shortly. It's almost done - just a few finishing touches. I'm renovating and redecorating it, finally, so these pages will be there until I'm done. There are links to my other sites and links to some of the content from Home of Cyber Kat - check it out, if you're so inclined.

Katmudgeon's Korner

I was feeling rather curmudgeony yesterday, so I decided to set this up as a place to express my dissatisfaction with things in general. Every so often my pet peeves get tweaked and I go off on a rant. When you see the Katmudgeon's Korner show up, you'll know there's a rant coming. I went to the stores to get a few things. The trip was mostly unsuccessful, which is probably why I was feeling grumpy. People were cutting me off all over the place - must have been National Cut-Off Day. I hate that.

Why do people who have eons of time to pull out in front of you wait until you are right on top of them before they decide to do so? And they always do it when there is absolutely no one behind you. They could simply wait another minute for you to pass, then pull in behind you. Are they just naturally discourteous? Do they do it on purpose? Are they such poor judges of distance or do they just live in a permanent state of Oblivion? Inquiring minds want to know.

Speaking of a permanent state of Oblivion ... What about those people in the supermarket who just plunk their cart in the middle of the aisle while they stand next to it and read the label on every can and jar. They block the whole aisle so no one can get through, and when you say "Excuse me," so you can pass, they look at you as though you were the one being rude. How dare you interrupt their shopping experience! Sheesh!

And don't you just love those people who ask if they can go ahead of you in line because "I'm
in a hurry" - like you're not? I had a woman do that on a very long line for the ladies room in Macy's Herald Square store at Christmas time a few years ago.

"Can I cut in front of you," she asked. "I really have to go."

I said, "So do I or I wouldn't be waiting in this long line. And I'm quite sure that all these other women," - I waved a hand to indicate all the women on line behind me - "do as well."

"I could just push in front of you," she said getting all huffy because I didn't acquiesce. "Then what would you do?"

I looked her right in the eye and said, "I'll pee on your foot."

The women behind me broke into spontaneous applause and laughter as the interloper stomped off to the back end of the line.

My sister, who was with me at the time, has never forgotten the incident and she has probably told the story to everyone south of Gettysburg, PA and north of Thurmont, MD.

Defining Moments

Okay - I finally got my Reflections on 911 coded and mounted, so you can read it if you are so inclined.

Its one of those defining moments, like when John F Kennedy was shot - you remember for the rest of your life what you were doing at the moment you heard. Thirty-eight years later, I can remember every detail of that day as though it happened yesterday. I can still see the art room, still hear the radio voice that was played over the PA system saying "Three shots were fired." I remember how quiet the halls were as we all walked to our next class in a state of shock and firmly in the grip of disbelief.

So much of that tragedy came rushing back to me as I stood watching smoke stream out of the gaping holes in the Twin Towers.

Starting to Get the Hang of This ...

Okay - I'm starting to get the hang of this now. As usual, I've taken on learning/doing too many things at once. I'm trying my hand at tableless web layout and learning all about doing weblogs and trying to do a massive redesign of my web site at the same time.

This morning I converted my September 11 recollections and reflections into a web page, which you will see here shortly. It's not really an essay, but an account of how things evolved for me that day.

Since it is snowing here in Northern, NJ, I'll post a link to "Reflections on Snow" which I wrote a few years ago.

Three Days Later ...

Well, here I am 3 days later and I'm still trying to get the hang of making this work with my template.

Guess it's going to have to wait a bit longer, because I'm running out of time today. But like everything else on the web it's going to be a work in progress.

Have to give credit where credit is due ... I couldn't have done this three column tableless layout without the help of Eric Costello's CSS tutorials - check it out!

This is My First

Well this is the first post to my new Blog. I've been thinking about setting one up for some time, but events since September 11 have prodded me into publish the series of essays running around in my head.

Stay tuned ...

Note: I add the entry for September 15, 2001 after I started the blog. I had the piece written then, but I didn't have the blog set up at the time.