Archive for November 2006

Why I’m Not Churbuck, V. 1

November 26, 2006

I always feel so guilty that I’m not a blogging monster like my pal and erstwhile boss Churbuck — he must blog in his sleep. So, I’m trying to figure out why I’m not a blogging monster.

So, like fer instance, today: First I had to do my yoga, cause my back’s all tight and I can’t bend in half like I used to.  Then I started feeling guilty because every year I come up with some damned excuse not to clean the vegetable garden of debris. (Of course, one gardening book says, “Clean it: otherwise icky bugs overwinter,” and another says, “Good bugs like to overwinter in garden debris, so don’t clean up.” Ai-yi-yi.) The cussed cutworms have gotten so bad, that maybe a good cleaning was in order this year, so I had to tackle this:


And I did — I double dug the whole garden, ‘cept the chard, arugula and broccoli. Exhausted, I stood back and yelled: “Come on, birdies, get your nice tasty cutworms!”

Then, Husbando and I had to put the Xmas lights on the blue spruce, which is now about 20 feet high, so round and round the tree we went.

Okay, then I had to admire the work on my new playhouse….
Shed 2

No, I’m not doing the work, but I have to oversee everything, right?

Then I had to roast the 19 peanuts I harvested from the great Growing-Peanuts Experiment. We ate one at 15 minutes at 350 degrees, then another one escaped when I took the baking sheet out of the oven after another 15 minutes. So hors d’oeuvres tonight will be 17 home-grown, oven-roasted peanuts. Husbando’s already wondering who gets the ninth one.

And if you had any idea how long it takes me to get pictures in my blog….

Well, you can see where the day goes.


Journalist as Brand

November 20, 2006

and who better to adopt this idea than me?

Well, I can think of a few friends and associates. Jeff Jarvis on “Independent journalist as brand” — if you’re worried about your future, read this.

Janice’s Folly

November 19, 2006

My new potting shed (work in progress):


Cute or what?

Rats. Clouds.

November 19, 2006

We had every intention of getting up for the Leonids (see below), but the clouds skunked us. Anyone anywhere get a view?

Where I’ll Be Saturday Night

November 17, 2006

Sitting out on the lawn ’round midnight trying to catch the Leonid meteor showers. See, Skytour, and .

According to one of the above, “Some years ago, when the teams of David Asher and Robert McNaught were making their groundbreaking predictions of Leonid storms and outbursts for the years 1999-2002, they also noted a possible outburst for 2006.”

Warning: It could be the most spectacular shower of all time, but, guaranteed, I’ll miss most of it. I have a knack for looking in the wrong direction at just the wrong precise moment. It’s a habit I’m sure I carry over to birdwatching. I always imagine that painted bunting hopping about by my heels while I’m desperately scanning the skies for some damned sparrow. And fishing? I’m sure I trod on more fishies than I ever get my fly out for.

Anyway, undaunted, I’ll be out there Saturday night.

I Have Seen the Future

November 15, 2006

And it’s…old.

Spent most of the day shepherding 94-yr-old Mum through the medical system. I am, I have to say, incredibly lucky. She’s cogent, mobile and shake-free. Unlike everyone else in the waiting room (and, boy, do you wait).  Once the doctor realizes she has to speak up, because, duh, a 94-year-old is hard of hearing, she did a good job of asking lots of questions anyway. Which Mum answers with answers that were probably correct about 5 years ago, but how’s the doctor to know that? Then drag Mum off to chat with the social worker so maybe we can come up with a plan to get her out and mentally & socially stimulated more. Mum assures her there are lots of lectures she’d go to, etc.  Which I know she has no intention of doing, but again, how’s the sw to know that?

In other words, without attendant kids or someone who really knows us, how’s the doc to know what’s really up?

Last time I was in town, we visited an assisted living facility, which Mum will probably never agree to move to. Must say, after waiting endlessly for elevators, then squeezing in among all the walkers and wheelchairs, I wouldn’t either. Not that the residents didn’t seem pretty with it (with the exception of the ones in the wheelchairs in the front room where we waited for the tour guide. Which was okay, because Mum loudly announced as we sat down, “I’m glad I’m not in a wheelchair.” And our Borat-moment, when Mum asked the tour guide: “Is everyone here white?”).

Maybe all you can/should do is laugh. The show that managed this was the BBC’s  1990 Waiting for God (I identify with Diana — and come to think of it, Husbando is pretty much Tom). I do not plan, btw, to watch the Frontline show on aging, because with the genes I got, I’m pretty much going to be around for awhile. Or, as the doctor attending to my 89-year-old, post-triple-bypass father said: “You better start referring to your husband as your first.”


November 15, 2006

Recent discoveries:

1. It’s finally happened — men in New York City have become more attractive than the women. True. I see a great head of wavy hair bouncing down the street but then realize it’s on top of a guy. A good looking guy. There are just more and more of them.

2. This is a breakthrough. I’ve finally figured out why male anchors on TV network news are conservatively dressed like they’re going to a business meeting and female anchors look like sluts about to be paraded at a sleazy cocktail party. And here’s the answer, discovered while I’m at the gym at weird daytime hours: Those female news anchors are dolled up just like the floozies on the soaps. Same bizarro teased-up hair, gobs of makeup, mandatory decolletage. Weird.