March 2006

March 27, 2006 22:32 hrs

Gosh, seems like forever since I talked to you. And I really don't have much to say today since I have to go to bed since I have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn to do some file maintenance before everybody and his brother signs on to the server tomorrow. I guess it's good practice for the fact that after this weekend I'm going to spend the next six months missing an entire hour of sleep due to the federally mandated time change. Maybe if I was a farmer, I would see more benefit and less loss in this change...I know, shoulda moved to Arizona instead of Kansas, right?

Apologies for the short entry, but there are new things in random photos and randomness and absurdities. Oh, and there's actually some March posting over at my fotopages site, cowboyjunkies. I went to Saint Louis. I pinched the Arch. Take my word, ya gotta see it. I'll post the rest of the StLo pics here when time allows.

March 14, 2006 21:59 hrs

So what I have recently deemed my 'favorite' shoes went on sale and yesterday after "the meeting" I went to JC Penney to score a couple of pairs. See now that I've decided they're my favorite you can bet the manufacturer will discontinue the style. They got the Elmo seal of approval and he didn't even throw up on them. Funny thing happened at "the meeting". One of our members is moving away. She wanted everyone to gather together for a group picture before we all scattered to the wind. What part of the word anonymous does she not get? Speaking of photos, the one of Elmo inspecting my shoes was submitted to DPChallenge in the footwear category so get your clicker over there and vote for me.

I got my first cease and desist today. Never thought it would happen considering I've yet to have to take off my shoes to count my readership. Seems someone's business manager stumbled across last years version of the blog and objected to the fact that I had posted some of someone's copyrighted product, which they are well within their rights to do. Since they were well within their rights, I don't know why I felt pissy about it other than the fact that I believe that someone already makes a fortune off the product without some small time operator like myself having to contribute to the coffers. I also have a private suspicion that what they objected to was not the use of the content per se, but the placement of the content.

Warning: geek stuff ahead...Our weeks of hell on the server migration are winding down and all that's left to do is mop up some blood and change a bandage here and there. Some parts will need to be amputated, but new bionics will appear to take their places. As a result of all this changing of operating systems and moving of data, some folks desktop short-cuts are broken and need to be remapped. At the end of a long day today, I went to one workstation to fix a broken link and dissolved into laughter at what the shortcut was actually doing. It was supposed to run a program when clicked so you would expect the underlying property to be something like f:\net-folder\program-name\program.exe. Instead it was pointing to  f:\net-folder\program-name\program.ico so when clicked, all it did was open up a picture of the program in a graphics manipulation program...

March 11, 2006 20:15 hrs

If pets bring such joy to our lives, how come they're such a pain in the ass? My dog. Sometimes she's the coolest thing since sliced bread and other times I want to cut her up in little pieces and feed her to the cats (not that they'd eat her, mind you). Yesterday I was home for my long lunch and I like to let the dogs out as much as possible now that I am a card carrying member of the working class. They aren't used to being cooped up indoors. But the turkeys have been really active lately and you know what that means. Time for Maverick to find a nice fresh turkey scat and roll in it. Roll, roll, roll. Well by the time I discover this, it's time for me to go back to work. I did a quick clean and confined her to the kitchen until someone—anyone—could come home and give her a bath. Judi's been gone a long time so I left some hints that perhaps she could bath the dog and she did! I am so grateful. Especially since Maverick had to get another bath today...No, she did not roll in turkey shit again, but she did get the scare of her life while giving us the scare of our lives.

Dallas has some hip dysplasia on one side and the knee on that side is wearing faster due to the looseness of the hip joint. We're going to start Adequan treatments which is a series of 8 shots given over four weeks. It's supposed to not only relieve the pain of the hip and knee, but also promote tissue re-growth so that the joint wears on cartilage again instead of bone-on-bone. In preparation for having to subject her to twice weekly car trips to the Vet, we are trying to get her to see that we go fun places when we throw her in the car, not just to see the mean man who sticks needles in her. And to be fair my Vet realizes that this is an extraordinary imposition on the animal and will be coming out to the parking lot to give the injections rather that forcing her to trot inside to an exam room each and every time—I love my country vet.

So we've been piling both dogs into the car as often as possible and going somewhere, anywhere. Sometimes it's to the park, sometimes the river. Sometimes we just go to a field 1/2 mile down the road. The point is to not always have the car ride equate to pain. So today we went to the river. It was a beautiful day. Mild temperature, sunny with a scattering of high clouds. We went to the boat landing in St. George, one of the few public places where you can access the Kansas River. There were lots of smells for the dogs to enjoy and a small stream joins the Kansas there creating a sandbar that juts out into the river. Maverick, who likes water more than a retriever, was ripping back and forth the length of the sandbar. Then she discovered that where the stream flowed across the sandbar, it was still nicely packed sand and quite good for running and kicking up water. Then she got exited and started prancing and pouncing. Then she pounced right over the drop off where the water rapidly goes from three inches to three feet, four feet, heaven knows how deep! She sank in the sand so that she was stuck. She was terrified and crying and we were terrified too. Lucky for us the drought continues so the the current is mild and her head was still above water. Both Judi and I got a good soaking as we waded in to free her from the clutches of the evil sand monster. We all got baths when we came home. I don't know what's in that water, but my neighbor with the state health department said we probably should not drink it...

March 05, 2006 09:45 hrs

What's in a name? Good question. Let's talk about mine. First, middle and last. Only one of the ones that appears on my Driver's License also appears on my birth certificate and that would be the middle one. I was born Jill Arleen Guttormson. Guttormson for my father's family, Arleen for my father's mother and Jill because my parents thought with a mouthful like Guttormson, they should give me something short to go in front of it. Sound and logical thinking on their part.

My parents had no idea how much I would come to hate the name Jill. It was a popular name the year I was born and there was a pack of four of us named Jill that moved up through the grades in school. In junior high the Jack & Jill rhymes were unbearable and my skin was much thinner than it is today. In retrospect, I can also say that I did not like myself very much and thought that if I changed my name, I would be someone else. (Sadly, it took me almost 30 years to realize the wrongness in that way of thinking.) Somewhere along the line, the point where your business class has you apply for a Social Security Card, I decided I was no longer Jill, I was Julie. And that was what went on my application. And that was what was on the card that I received in the mail.

The social security card was the ticket to the Driver's License that said Julie. Every job I've ever applied for: Julie; every document I've ever signed: Julie; every line of credit I've ever had: Julie; every piece of real estate I've ever bought and sold: Julie. It was good enough for city hall in Las Vegas, Nevada in 1982 when I got married and it was good enough for a court in Los Angeles, California in 1992 when I got divorced (although I did legally keep his last name). I can count on one hand the people in my life that know me as Jill, gotta take off the shoes for the ones that know me as Julie.

The only time the name on my Driver's License was not sufficient identification was when I had to get a passport. And I was informed that regardless of the mountain of evidence that points to the conclusion that I am Julie, I am in fact still Jill. (I'm also quite sure that if I'd applied for this passport pre 9/11, it would have been issued with Julie on it.) Since a simple phone call changed the name I was to travel under on the ship's manifest, I conclude that first names just aren't really all that important. Or are they?

So why am I pondering this now? Well, mainly because I do ponder it on occasion. But I'm publicly pondering it because the question came up recently in relation to my role as executrix of someone's trust and estate. It's a legal document, what do they put for my first name? I've never set foot in a court of law to change Jill into Julie. I have two documents identifying me as Jill, whereas the license, social security & credit cards, even every single tax return I've ever filed identify me as Julie. I can prove I'm either one. Call me anything but late for dinner...

(Editor's note: the spelling affectation I've adopted on the internet, Juli with no "e" at the end does not even figure in this debate.)

March 04, 2006 16:44 hrs

This guy's blog has got me thinking. A treatise on diversity in which he compares Nazism to leafy spurge. Diversity good, purity bad; and what the heck is in your soil I may very well ask. Since I've been working in the garden compliments of the rather unusual weather we've been gifted with, I can tell you that mine smells closer to Prairyerth than Ortho manicured. I think it's because I leave the dead growth to over-winter on the plants and I mulch the leaves where they fall on the lawn instead of my early back-breaking, trash bag wasting attempts to rake and dispose. This over-wintering serves two purposes: the dead/mulched vegetation protects the plants and soil from the cold, rain & wind; and the dead/mulched vegetation releases important nutrients back into the soil from which it came. Many of you know that I also discovered fire last year. I surely wish I could do some burning this year. Lots of dead branches to dispose of from the winter and the leaves grow deep once you leave the semi-manicured confines of the lawn, but a distinct lack of water in the landscape makes such endeavors highly dangerous. Witness the burn bans enacted for most of NE KS counties.

For those of you who think the prairie states are the plain vanilla states, the fly-over states, the "there's no there there" states—keep thinking that way. Lord knows that's what I thought before I moved here. We'll be here long after your cities have turned to dust for we have diversity on our side. We're a land of farmers and office workers; sinners and saints; poets and cowboys; laborers and dreamers; philosophers and realists. We're independent yet inter-dependent. And we do just fine without you.

Speaking of diversity, I like the way Senator Robert F. Hagan thinks.

Maybe the GLBT community is going about this all wrong. Instead of demanding a policy of inclusion, perhaps we should be looking at more policies of exclusion. Want to see a screening of Brokeback Mountain? You must bring a same-sex date or come alone. Going to hit the gay karaoke bar because they have the best back-up singers? A letter from your psychiatrist detailing all your years of angst over your sexual orientation is required for admittance. Whites are hereby banned from dance clubs because they have no rhythm. Blacks are banned from public speaking unless they can demonstrate the ability to say the word "ask" without an X in it. Indians are forbidden to apply for jobs at computer help centers, only clear and concise English speaking  persons need apply. Asians shall be ineligible to enroll at UCLA. Latinos, don't even think about rising above washing my dishes and cutting my lawn. Are you getting the picture here? Have I sufficiently spotlighted the absurdity in the policy of exclusion? Are you starting to feel corrupted by The Gay Agenda?

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