Thursday, October 15, 2009
Twiddling One's Thumbs Activity
This previous summer, I had a chance to realize one of my long-held dreams, which was to visit Lake Louise and its low-key spectacular hotel. Just in case I win the lottery or come into money from a relative I've never heard of, I decided to apply for the Fairmont Hotel card, so that the next time (I'm considering converting to Hinduism to ensure there's a next time, even if it's not in my current time) we go to Lake Louise, I'll be able to get a special rate.Well, Folks, the application only cost you the amount of time it takes to fill out, so if you feel like doing something that will keep your change in your pocket and yet give you a (perhaps false) sense of grandiosity, I suggest you get yourself one of these cards.
Why bother with another piece of plastic that you may never use?
Well, scroll down about half-way on the application and highlight the category "Title".
I've filled enough card applications in my lifetime such that filling another one is automaton-ish. Same old..same old. Well, Fairmont Hotel's stopped me in my tracks.
Who would have thought that I could title myself Prince, Archbishop, Viscount, Sultan, Prime Minister, Maestro, even Yg Di Pertuan Agung? I settled on "Count" as there's a barely tenuous grip my surname has on a self-annointed royal family back in the Old Country. My father, as a joke and as a term of endearment by his friends was nicknamed "Grof", Croatian for "Count". With his sense of self-inflicted humor, he was laughing somewhere as I hovered my mouse over and then clicked on "Count".
Can't wait to receive the plastic acknowledgement of my royal standing.
"Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise? Yes, please make a reservation for 2 for Count Darko....."
Labels: Life Decisions, Manly Advice, Road Trips, Vacations
Thursday, October 01, 2009
A Luddite - I've Had It With Modern "Conveniences"
I'm getting one of these. Soon. Soon, as in I-wish-I-had-it-2-Days-Ago soon. Call me a Luddite. Go ahead. I welcome the label. I'll go out and buy a t-shirt emblazoned with a large L and I'll wear that t-shirt proudly.I'm not what you'd call a leading edge kind of guy. Slavic sensibilities dictate that I stand on the sidewalk and watch the parade of fearless leading-edgers straggle by, all cut up, bleeding, and limb-less. Let these curious, daring, masochistic types soldier on, I say. Me, I'll wait until the fallout of new products has been cleaned up leaving items proven to work.
So, I thought it was safe a few years back to venture into the electronic memopads, the Palm Pilot world. I've had my Palm Pilot II for about 8 years now, generally pleased with the single purpose I'd used it for, namely replacing a compressed and tattered memo pad wadded up in various backpockets. But, the hiccups with the PP II were getting more unpleasant. The mysterious disappearance of entries, the total disappearance of all entries, the fast battery drain, the screen one couldn't read in any dim light.
Then, 2 days ago, a complete shutdown. Batteries zonked, data disappeared, on/off tab inconsistently working and, horror of horrors, I hadn't backed up the PP II in over 3 months as my barely-1-yr-old Dell, nicknamed Dreck, crashed. I was not a happy camper.
Streadily over the last 3-4 months, I have had it with the galaxy of electronica; I'm setting off into a different universe (how's this astronomy analogy holding up? Inaccurate, right?). I'm tired of backing up data. I'm tired of punching stuff in and than re-punching as my fingers clumsily spell out things differently than what my brain is telling them. I'm tired of loading batteries upon batteries into things that are alleged "life" support devices. What the heck's wrong with a manual operation? My handwriting's gone to hell from disuse. Penmanship was next to Godliness when I was a tyke; now it's totally jumblethwacked.
So, with hopes that my mind does remember some of those passwords, codes, and pseudonyms I've devised for my sites, my charge cards, my bank, my zen chants, I'll be jotting them down into this book. A book, which will be permanently chained to my body so that my manual auxiliary memory will be close to me.
Now, if I could only find a replacement for this, I'd be a smiling fool. Think this may work? I've got spools and spools of string somewhere down in the basement..
Labels: Domestic Burdens, Effluvia, Idiosyncracies, Life Decisions
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Delusional Self-Gazing
Jim, sitting over there in PA at SerotoninRain, open-armed offered a great idea for a post.
Seven Posts About the Same Thing
A great way to relapse into past doings with hopes of reviving interest in one's navel-gazing. I'm all for that navel-gazing, especially these days as it keeps my eyes from tearing up each time I look at any financial news.
So, how about a hop, skip, and a jump down the Croatia memory lane?
A few years back, before financial meltdowns quashed any plans or even dreams of foreign travel, the fam had a chance to visit the Land of Croats.
Getting into the right mood for a trip there was difficult. I know my mojo had been on sabbatical, but my fjaka? Well, I'd become too much of an American, sorry to say and to realize, to possibly ever retrieve it.
Thank goodness, there were distractions to keep me from wallowing in that loss. Frankopanska torta, a hallucinogenic drug disguised as a cake was a welcome reprieve.
The natives, as friendly and non-critical as I remembered them, were also there to uplift one's mood.
My of my many cousins, a raconteur of the highest order, made sure we were parked at various cafes' umbrellaed tables while he regaled us with tales of business and travel.
Once our inhibitions had been loosened with rakija and vino, everything was possible. Even visitations back to the sartorial splendor of Speedos.
And when everything came together? Speedos, rakija, wine, and food? Well, that meant we were in Ston, enjoying a particularly fresh meal.
Ziveli to all and to all a Good Night!
Seven Posts About the Same ThingA great way to relapse into past doings with hopes of reviving interest in one's navel-gazing. I'm all for that navel-gazing, especially these days as it keeps my eyes from tearing up each time I look at any financial news.
So, how about a hop, skip, and a jump down the Croatia memory lane?
A few years back, before financial meltdowns quashed any plans or even dreams of foreign travel, the fam had a chance to visit the Land of Croats.
Getting into the right mood for a trip there was difficult. I know my mojo had been on sabbatical, but my fjaka? Well, I'd become too much of an American, sorry to say and to realize, to possibly ever retrieve it.
Thank goodness, there were distractions to keep me from wallowing in that loss. Frankopanska torta, a hallucinogenic drug disguised as a cake was a welcome reprieve.
The natives, as friendly and non-critical as I remembered them, were also there to uplift one's mood.
My of my many cousins, a raconteur of the highest order, made sure we were parked at various cafes' umbrellaed tables while he regaled us with tales of business and travel.
Once our inhibitions had been loosened with rakija and vino, everything was possible. Even visitations back to the sartorial splendor of Speedos.
And when everything came together? Speedos, rakija, wine, and food? Well, that meant we were in Ston, enjoying a particularly fresh meal.
Ziveli to all and to all a Good Night!
Labels: Croatia, Life Decisions, Links to Posts, Road Trips
Monday, November 03, 2008
Back and Hands
A great NYT article from Sunday, written by Stanley Fish. A lifetime ago, I remember having a memorable meal in the train car restaurant he mentioned in his piece. I'd quibble with the location, though. Unless the train tracks or cars moved, the restaurant is in Carrboro, NC (The Paris of the Piedmont) and not Chapel Hill, N.C. There definitely was something about eating in a rail car, stationary or ripping on the rails, that promotes easy and gradually ratcheting up conversation.
What rings true for me with Mr. Fish's article is the Slavic tone and the concomitant attitude toward politicians. Entwined like rope, this mind-set is what throws, for me at least, the whole RNC "Joe the Plumber" scenario into disbelief and a touch of empathy for the poor guy. Somehow, a guy working with his hands, dealing literally with the muck of humanity, and associating with politicians, of either stripe, throws in doubt his very connection with the working guy. Having laboured during my high school and college summers in various jobs involving back muscle, excessive sweating, and colorful language I graduated college thankful that I had other work possibilities and grateful that I had worked with such great people. There was such a sweet pleasure at the end of a day and particularly at the end of the week, when my hands and back had a chance to recuperate. Callouses were a visible reward for another day's work. The approval of my elders at work, transmitted by their calling me by name rather than by "Kid" or "Punk" stayed withe me longer than any "A" in high school or college. Those summer jobs were probably why I always tended to work for companies after graduating that made something rather than simply serviced something. The tangibility of manufacturing rather than the construction of words was primal, in a way.
Am I happy with the choices we've been provided for tomorrow? Absolutely not. It is a shame that this great country can come down to Mr. Obama and Mr. McCain. Perhaps the Max the Plumbers know what an unfulfilling and dirty job it is to run for president. They would rather deal with the pipes than what runs through them.
But, vote we must. So, I'm sticking with Hope rather than Hate. I'm voting for Obama's plumbing company.
What rings true for me with Mr. Fish's article is the Slavic tone and the concomitant attitude toward politicians. Entwined like rope, this mind-set is what throws, for me at least, the whole RNC "Joe the Plumber" scenario into disbelief and a touch of empathy for the poor guy. Somehow, a guy working with his hands, dealing literally with the muck of humanity, and associating with politicians, of either stripe, throws in doubt his very connection with the working guy. Having laboured during my high school and college summers in various jobs involving back muscle, excessive sweating, and colorful language I graduated college thankful that I had other work possibilities and grateful that I had worked with such great people. There was such a sweet pleasure at the end of a day and particularly at the end of the week, when my hands and back had a chance to recuperate. Callouses were a visible reward for another day's work. The approval of my elders at work, transmitted by their calling me by name rather than by "Kid" or "Punk" stayed withe me longer than any "A" in high school or college. Those summer jobs were probably why I always tended to work for companies after graduating that made something rather than simply serviced something. The tangibility of manufacturing rather than the construction of words was primal, in a way.
Am I happy with the choices we've been provided for tomorrow? Absolutely not. It is a shame that this great country can come down to Mr. Obama and Mr. McCain. Perhaps the Max the Plumbers know what an unfulfilling and dirty job it is to run for president. They would rather deal with the pipes than what runs through them.
But, vote we must. So, I'm sticking with Hope rather than Hate. I'm voting for Obama's plumbing company.
Labels: Life Decisions, Personalities
Monday, April 14, 2008
Why He'll Win in November
Continuing in my totally un-analytical prediction of the 2008 Election results, here's another reason McCain will be our oldest elected president. How do you teflonize yourself against the not-so-distant onslaught of economic woe? Well, just declare us in the Recession zone. If he wins, blame can't be put on him as he already pronounced "Bad Times Ahead". Heck, he may even make it another 2 terms for the 'pubs, since the self-evisceratin' Dems may still be at it in 2012. And, if things don't go well for China in this summer's Olympics, I think it'll be McCain who will benefit the most, irregardless as to the amount of China-bashing Mr. Obama or Ms. Clinton have done recently.
I'll be thinking of a Richardson candidacy in 2012, unless, Mr. Obama cleverly picks him for his VP in this coming election. Then, Mr. McCain may have a struggle on his hands unless Colin Powell comes out of his "former" state of being and validates a broader platform for the Arizona senator.
Now, all of that happening would make November 2008 truly interesting.
I'll be thinking of a Richardson candidacy in 2012, unless, Mr. Obama cleverly picks him for his VP in this coming election. Then, Mr. McCain may have a struggle on his hands unless Colin Powell comes out of his "former" state of being and validates a broader platform for the Arizona senator.
Now, all of that happening would make November 2008 truly interesting.
Labels: Life Decisions, Manly Advice
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
NaBloPoMo'ing
Not sure if Mr. Sgazzetti has signed up. His joining in on the November 2006 version of NaBloPoMo prompted me to sign up before I realized the level of commitment required. I made it through last November with at least one post a day. Unlike Ms. Jag over at Hillbilly, Please, who posts on almost a regular daily basis, moss tends to grow over my entries such that 2 posts a week is doing well for me. I need this commitment to get the posting numbers up. It's not a competitive thing although prizes are available. The tax consequences resulting from such gains is not worth the hassle; all I need is the IRS after my blogging personality to make this year truly special. So, if I win anything (hardly likely), I will not accept as I'd prefer not to have a taxing authority in my blogging domain.
So, my usual suspected readers. Any of you willing to make a month's commitment to the Daily Word?
So, my usual suspected readers. Any of you willing to make a month's commitment to the Daily Word?
Labels: Blogs, Life Decisions
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Elevator to Circle 8.4, Please.
Being set in my ways, most unfortunately, I've tried to make those worn grooves of my life's habits at least a bit interesting. This site has come in handy, as far as the deeply-ingrained need I have to pigeon-hole someone. Let's call it Classic Pigeon-holing, if you don't mind.
I've tried this site and even tried Google-Mapping Hell/Inferno/A Day with Donald Trump with minimal additional useful information. Google-Mapping takes a requested search of Dante's Inferno here. Not necessarily the place you'd want to be pigeon-holed...unless that is the place you want to be pigeon-holed in, but I'm staying away from that topic.
So, I'm sticking with this fine site when it comes time to put someone in their space/slot. Waiting for some creative Dante scholar out there to make an interactive site that takes, as input, your personal proclivity and then lets you know what floor of Dante's Inverted skyscraper you may soon be living on.
Anyone out there familiar with such a fine Internet-based judgemental game?
I've tried this site and even tried Google-Mapping Hell/Inferno/A Day with Donald Trump with minimal additional useful information. Google-Mapping takes a requested search of Dante's Inferno here. Not necessarily the place you'd want to be pigeon-holed...unless that is the place you want to be pigeon-holed in, but I'm staying away from that topic.
So, I'm sticking with this fine site when it comes time to put someone in their space/slot. Waiting for some creative Dante scholar out there to make an interactive site that takes, as input, your personal proclivity and then lets you know what floor of Dante's Inverted skyscraper you may soon be living on.
Anyone out there familiar with such a fine Internet-based judgemental game?
Labels: Life Decisions
