Ironic and a waste of money

Remember those old TV commercials telling you that you could get all sorts of information for free by requesting the Consumer Information Catalog from Pueblo, Colorado? They still print it. I picked one up from outside a Sam’s Club. My favorite offering is for an 8 page booklet, titled Apply Online for Social Security Benefits. You can avoid the $2 service fee if you order it online. Is the Social Security Web site really so bad that you need 8 pages of instructions? They only offer a single screen (maybe  400 words) of instructions on their site, so maybe you get a better deal in print. You probably get instructions for applying for retirement, medicare, and disability benefits, how to apply if you’re blind, and other options you might miss on their site since they are hidden right smack in the middle of their home page.

Then there’s the Advance Fee Business Scams booklet from the Department of State. They charge you a $1.50 in advance for that. But it’s available for free online.

Don’t think this agency is in the dark ages. This place understands Web 2.0. They have a free publication all about it. It looks like all the stuff in the catalog is available online. You can even go to the Federal Citizen Information Center site and “
Sign up to get e-mail notices of each new Catalog.” You don’t have to be bothered to use Google like the rest of the world to learn how to attract birds, learn about ID theft, or get the facts about cholesterol. You can receive convenient emails reminding you that these facts are out there.

They have their own blog, too. It’s called Gov Gab and it’s at http://blog.usa.gov/roller/. Maybe at one time they were going to name it Roller? There are even more free publications to be found here. But no links to the contents of the publications. You’ll have to order them online and have them mailed to you.

But if you want to know how to contact President Obama and didn’t want to type “contact Obama” into a search engine or go to the Contact Us section of the whitehouse.gov site, you could learn how to do it from the Jan. 26 blog entry.

I don’t understand why they replicate on their site the exact same data as on the publishing organization’s site. You’ll see that the Federal Reserve Board and the GSA have the same brochure on their sites:  http://www.federalreserve.gov/pubs/bounce/ and http://www.pueblo.gsa.gov/cic_text/money/protect_overdraft/bounce.htm. The only difference is that the Fed logo isn’t a link back to the Fed on the GSA site.

I’m not against print. This catalog is probably still serving a purpose. My mother and others don’t have Internet connections and print is sometimes easier to use. I resented having to make up a non-existent e-mail address for my mother when I went online to change the addresses for all her magazine subscriptions. But I’m not sure the GSA Federal Citizen Information Center really needs its own blog or social media releases.

The cell phone, the universal remote, and the spider plant

Another retelling of a Grimm’s tale–just for Peggyj. This time it’s of The Mouse, the Bird, and the Sausage.

The cell phone, the universal remote, and the spider plant

Once upon a time a cell phone, a universal remote, and a spider plant shared an apartment in perfect peace and prosperity. It was the job of the cell phone to order pizza. The universal remote provided them with daily entertainment, and the spider plant kept the air in their apartment clean and fresh.

But no one is ever content and everyone judges their prosperity against their neighbor’s. One day the cell phone overheard another making reservations at an exclusive night club and resolved that he and his friends should have more than simple pizza and bread sticks.

The cell phone spoke to his friends about how, in the apartment down the hall, the occupants lived in a much grander scale. The neighbors were going out that very evening to a French restaurant, followed by drinks and dancing, while they were going to spend a night at home watching reality TV. Weren’t they just as deserving of a fine evening on the town? Was if fair for his talents to be wasted on calling only Domino’s and Papa Johns?

The universal remote and the spider plant had felt content with their lives, but were persuaded by the cell phone’s continuous arguments. Let us see what happens to these friends.

The cell phone made reservations for three at downtown’s finest restaurant. The three of them put on their finest clothes and took a cab into town. The cell phone complained that he’d had to take care of both the reservations and getting the cab. His roommates reminded him that he was best suited for the task, but the phone still felt taken advantage of and the end of the trip was taken in silence.

After their evening out, during which they mostly spoke of the TV shows they were missing, the plant offered to go outside and hail a cab so the cell phone wouldn’t have to do it again. His friends paid the bill. (They wouldn’t be able to afford bread sticks for over a month.) And then they walked outside expecting to find the spider plant and a waiting taxi. But the plant was nowhere to be found.

The universal remote eventually found a cook who was outside smoking and had seen a squad car pull up and take off with the spider plant. The cell phone called the station and found out the spider plant was being held for questioning. The phone and remote pooled the rest of their money and took a cab to the station to try and learn more and to help out their friend. But the spider plant had not been able to prove citizenship and his green card had expired months before. So he was being deported.

The cell phone and universal remote were considerably upset and began walking home together. They no longer had enough money to even pay for a bus, plus they were not familiar with this part of the city. The cell phone was mugged and critically injured. The remote ran off to save his own life, but in his haste he ran across the light rail and was hit by a train.

===

If you’d like to read another tale see Grimm’s The Turnip: My version, or a good tale at “Uncle Chortle” by Robert Gray.

Random thoughts II

Mother-in-laws say the cutest things: My mother-in-law received a couple of iTunes gift cards last year and was talking about how many “iPod minutes” she had left.

There’s now a manga version of the Bible. It had to happen, but I was hoping I wouldn’t notice. HabMoo spotted one at Barnes and Noble. If you look online there’s more than just this one. From a New York Times review of an edition published by Doubleday: “The Sermon on the Mount did not make the book, though, because there was not enough action to it.”

From the Chronicle of Higher Education article “Ordinary Ugliness“:
“according to data collected by the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery, 30 percent of cosmetic surgery is performed on people who earn less than $30,000 a year, and 71 percent on those who earn less than $60,000 a year.” Well I guess I should get me some. But I’d really prefer to take a loan out for some land. It’ll last longer than my face and probably pay out better, too.

I had breakfast with a friend and we were talking about our mothers. I realized that when speaking to them we both addressed them as “Mama.” We realized that we started calling them that once we started taking on more responsibility for them. We both went from Mommy to Mother (in adolescence) to Mom to Mama.

Grimm’s The Turnip: My version

Sometimes Hab Moo will read to me at night. I love it. It’s hard when he reads Grimm’s Fairy Tales, because they always set him off into fits of laughter and confusion. Really there are some rather odd stories out there. So far our favorite is The Mouse, the Bird, and the Sausage. You can probably guess which one gets it in the end. Here’s my modern telling of The Turnip.

The Facebook Application

There once were two brothers who both worked as tax advisers, and one was rich and one was poor. The poor one, wishing to better himself, left his practice and played on his Facebook site. He posted items, became a fan of many odd things, and tried his hand at creating an application to create a virtual bakery.

The virtual bakery became wildly popular in his network. People were leveling up their ingredients and adding their own recipes. They were gifting each other cakes for weddings and cupcakes for virtual parties. The Facebook fanatic could not imagine what would come of this, whether it would bring good luck or bad.

At last he said to himself, if I sell it what shall I gain? The best thing will be to show it to the venture capitalist and offer it to him. So that’s what he did.

“This is extraordinary!” exclaimed the venture capitalist. “Did you create this marvel? Does it belong to you?”

“Oh no,” said the Facebook fanatic. “It was an idea only. I am but an unfortunate tax adviser who could barely earn a living. I have a brother who is rich and well known to you. But I have nothing. Not even a blog. Just a Facebook page.”

The venture capitalist pitied him and said, “Your poverty shall be at an end and you shall receive from me such rich presents that your wealth will equal you brother’s.”

Thereupon the Facebook fanatic received an iPhone, Wii, large flat screen TV, stocks and bonds, a house on the beach, and a yacht.

Now the rich brother heard what his brother with a single Facebook application had acquired; he envied his brother and pondered how he might gain a like treasure for himself. But he wanted to show himself much more clever, so he took Flash games and widgets and photo sharing applications and presented them to the venture capitalist, feeling certain that he would receive an even finer gift.

The venture capitalist accepted the presents, saying that he had something wonderful to give the brother in exchange. There was nothing in his opinion greater than the Facebook virtual bakery application. So the rich brother had to download the application.

Frustration and evil thoughts came to him and he decided that his brother should die. He hired gang members from a neighborhood several miles away, had them make ready an ambush, and went to his brother. “Dear brother, I know where we can buy the next Powerball lottery ticket.”

The poorer brother set off with his brother without suspicion, but when they reached the seedy gas station the gang members sprang upon him, gagged him, and threw him in the trunk of their car.

While they were so occupied they heard a siren which frightened them and they ran off. The brother lay in the trunk until he heard voices. He banged hard against the trunk and moaned and gasped. The voice he had heard turned out to not be a police officer, but rather a young man in baggy pants.

He worked his way out of his hastily tied bounds and called out, “You’ve come in the nick of time. May you be as lucky as I.”

The young man looked around and asked “Did you say something to me? Where are you?”

A voice from the trunk answered, “I am here in the trunk and believe me it’s the best experience I’ve ever had in my life. You know auto-erotic asphixia? It’s so much better than that. I’m exhausted from the last ten orgasms I’ve had. I don’t think I can survive another. If you were in my place you’d know what I mean.”

The young man grew excited. “Can I try it? How do I get in there? How does it work?”

The other answered, “I will let you try it because of your youth, and for the price of that Starbucks in your hand for I have grown thirsty. But wait just a few minutes. I think I’ve recovered enough to experience just one more or two more.”

The young man waited a bit but grew impatient. The man in the trunk pretended to give in and said, “Release the trunk latch and then you can get in.”

So the young man released the latch, helped the man out, and put a foot into the trunk. “Stop. That’s not quite the way,” said the other and bound him, gagged him, and tossed him inside. Closing the trunk he said, “How are you feeling? You will soon feel sensations you’ve never before experienced.”

Thereupon he drank from the youth’s coffee cup and walked away. But he called the station an hour or so later and told the attendant to check for an abandoned car in his lot.

Thinking about my mom

It’s inauguration day and the world’s attention is focused on DC, but mostly I’m thinking about my mom. I took her to the doctor today to have blood drawn. I’m not sure if she needed it. She thought she was supposed to make an appointment back in November and never did. So I scheduled this lab visit for her. The nurses weren’t sure why she was in the office. There weren’t any doctor orders for lab work. But they were kind and drew blood. So we’ll get her cholesterol numbers updated whether it was necessary or not.

I also took her to the pharmacy. She’s sure that she picked up a prescription last week or so and then lost it before she got home. The pharmacist had no records of filling a prescription lately. So we got it filled (for the first or second time this month) and I know she made it to her front door with it. Who knows what will happen to it from there. The may be a second Bermuda Triangle — a Bullwinkle Trapezoid, perhaps — in her apartment. Many things are lost and some reappear in odd locations. (But that’s always been true. Dad once woke up to the automatic coffee pot spewing coffee across the counter and into the drawers. Mom had put the coffee pot in the oven. The Trapezoid may just be following her around.)

It’s hard to know how involved to get. For example, she doesn’t seem to like me going through her mail and papers. She always valued privacy. For example, she always insisted that a half closed door should always be knocked on. (Although we always just walked into the houses of family and friends. I guess we did yell a “Yoohoo” on the way in to announce ourselves. And most people had dogs so the appearance of guests wasn’t really a surprise.) I never even opened my mother’s purse until just a couple of years ago. And I’d still never do it without her permission. But today I went through stacks of mail and scraps of paper looking for her missing phone card. I found phone numbers for friends and family no longer living, but no phone card. (She’s of an age where a seance might be a better choice than the phone anyway.) I felt nosy and invasive.

Is it time to take over buying and picking up her prescriptions? I already pay most of her bills. She still takes care of sending out the five, eight, or sometimes ten dollar checks to all her charities. I don’t want to take away any of her sense of being able to care for herself. But I also don’t want her worrying, confused, or not taking her medications.

I really enjoy my mother even as she’s aging and requiring more care. She’s got a great sense of humor. For example, when we stopped in to pick her up at Xmas and get her presents and overnight bag, she turned to my young husband and commanded, “Boy, go bring the car around.” It could be that she just forgot his name and was trying to find a way to cover her embarrassment. But I found it funny.

She’s wonderfully superstitious at times. I’m wearing her mother’s opal today because Mom refused to wear it. Opals bring tears if they aren’t your birthstone, she believes. So far I’m not crying. But I have had dry eyes and thought it was worth a try.

She also refuses to begin any project on a Friday. If you start something on a Friday and don’t finish it, you never will. She never thought it was worth the chance. I agree. Best to put anything important off until Saturday. Or Monday. Or next month.

But putting off an evaluation of Mom’s memory can’t be put off. It’s scheduled for later this month.

Random thoughts

Why don’t redbreasted woodpeckers have red breasts? Maybe they’re just too shy to show them? See what I mean.

I’m ashamed that I couldn’t name the nine most popular Web sites. I hadn’t even heard of live.com. Or it I had, I dismissed it because of their cashback offers.

I’m wondering about the things we become beholden to. This week for me it is the cats. I opened the front and side doors for them a half dozen times yesterday to prove that it was too cold to go outside. I yell at them and warn them about the windchill. I claim to have no control over the weather. Then I open the door. I started on the routine again today before breakfast. OK, I confess, I’m always beholden to my pets.
     For my mother its everyone who spends money on postage to send her something. She feels like she must read ever piece of mail that comes to her. It looks like she’s hoarding junk mail because she won’t just toss anything with printing on it. I confess to stealing her mail when I’m there. Just so she won’t have to read it all.

Did you know there are only 56 reasons to have sex? Number 23 won’t do it for me. And it’s harder if you’re gay or lesbian. And I’m not built for number 49. Or maybe I’m just too noisy. Either way it’s not going to happen.

My wanton act of optimism

I quit my job. It paid well and the economy is tanking. Why did I do it?

1. We are the stories we tell, aren’t we? The stories we tell others and the stories we tell ourselves. When people asked me how things were at work I was unable to create an honest and interesting story. I was bored with same stories of conflict I had told the year before. They were even the same stories people in the next office were telling. In general stories of conflict are good ones. But not when the plot doesn’t advance. I want the story of my life to be one worth reading. The characters should be bold and at least a little eccentric. And I should be worthy of being the protagonist.

2. Feedback from friends and colleagues I respected. If people are telling you that you aren’t fun any longer you should listen to them. If people are telling you that your job is making you crazy, you should listen to them. If they are telling you that you’re talented and ethical and bright, you should listen to them.

3. Feedback my from subconscious. If you aren’t going to listen to the voices that wake you up at 3 a.m. when no one else is talking, do you know how to listen?

4. Taking an active role in one’s own life is the best kind of change. I like change. I’ve been a fundamentalist Christian, a radical lesbian feminist, and now I’m married to a soldier boy. Even in the midst of all the apparent change going on in the workplace, there wasn’t any real change.
I just read “most people are not the architects of their own change.” I don’t want that to be true of me.

5. Self-care is sometimes a radical operation. I’m not one who is good at self-care. I’m good at worrying about others. I do the distasteful tasks first and seldom get around to the reward I’m supposed to get for doing so. It’s like writing for me. It feels great, but it’s hell getting started. I tried various way to taking care of myself at work and they didn’t work. I can’t not care about quality. I can’t not care about my clients. I have responsibilities. And one of them is to myself.

I found that lowering your standards, just doing what’s asked of you, and other coping skills don’t just mean that you’ve given up on the job, it means you’ve given up on yourself. To re-word the Sunday School song, if you know you could shine elsewhere, why keep yourself under the bushel?

6. If you don’t act in accordance with your own values, you do injury to yourself. Being authentic is a value. Doing work where I’m encouraged and I can encourage others to be creative and play with new ideas is a value. Personal and professional growth is a value. Being relevant and having an impact is a value. My first clue that I wasn’t acting according to my own values was when I argued with a colleague/friend over the most stupid of disagreements. That was few years ago. I can be a slow learner.

7. Optimism in the face of despair is a visionary act. I’m an Aquarius. My sun, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn are all in Aquarius. I was nurtured by pragmatism, but my nature is more exuberant and risk-taking. It’s more independent and perverse. And it gets more attention.

8. Taking risks is good for the soul. Soul food is created from what’s at hand–what others might have discarded. It’s about placing value on the these ingredients. Risk is a strong and flavorful spice. It takes practice to use it well. I think it adds to your lifespan. And it makes for a better story.

If this post has you thinking about your own life, you might want to read a better author on some similar themes. See “What Should I Do with My Life, Now?.”

Silent Night

“Silent Night! Holy Night!” with apologies to Joseph Mohr

Lyrics if written for a Web page:

Night

The night was

• silent,
• holy,
• calm, and
• bright.

The virgin mother sleeps with her holy, tender and mild infant.

Lyrics if written for Twitter:

Xmas carol: Night = Silent + Holy, http://tinyurl.com/735djh

Lyrics if written by an academic:

The Period Between Sunset and Sunrise Traditionally Associated with the Christian Holiday of Christmas: Reflections on Maternal and Infant Sleep Patterns