Sunday, December 20, 2015

When You Don't Want to Talk to the Computer, Say Agent

After a tough day and a long drive home, I had exactly one hour to relax before heading out for my evening obligation. Clyde was out of town and I had the house to myself. I fed the cats and settled down with my laptop and the TV remote. I keyed in the URL for Facebook. Nothing happened. then a message came up saying, "Web page not available." I checked another couple of sites. Nothing. Nada.

Ok, so the wifi was out. Sometimes it happens. I'd just reset the modem - and nothing. Didn't work. I only had 45 minutes left.

So I'd worry about it later. I clicked on the television to watch a Seinfeld rerun.

Again, nothing. I unplugged the DVR/cable box, counted to 10, and plugged it back in. A message appeared saying that there must be some sort of problem. No signal was available.

35 minutes left.

"Can't I just relax for a few minutes?," I said to one of the cats. "Why does this always happen?" In fact, it's never happened before. I was just frustrated.

A half hour before I had to leave, I called the cable company which provided both our cable TV and wifi. Comcast's computer operated IVR (interactive voice response system) answered right away.

Now, I used to design IVR call flows. I know a good one when I hear it. Comcast does not have a good IVR flow.

It's creepy that it knows my address before I do anything, presumably from my incoming phone number. I had to provide the last four digits of Clyde's social security number (the account is in his name). Then I had to tell it what the problem was.

I said: "Wifi and cable are out."

"Is your problem related to the television or wifi?" asked the IVR. "Please say television or wifi."

"Argh...." I said, feeling a hole burning into my stomach lining. "Both!"

Comcast's computer said: "I understand you have a billing issue. You can go to our website and try to resolve the problem there."

"No," I screamed. "I cannot go to your website. My wifi is out." I punched 0 several times in hopes of being transferred to a customer service agent. It didn't work.

"Please tell me the nature of your call," the computer repeated.

"I want to speak to a customer service representative," I yelled, reminding myself that since I was talking to a computer, I wasn't hurting anyone's feelings by being angry.

20 minutes left.

I finally hit on the right command by saying, "Agent! Agent! Agent!" I was put on hold to wait for the next available agent.

Marie was very nice. I told her as patiently as I could what the problem was. Marie was, in fact, a real person and I didn't want to blame her for all of Comcast's IVR ineptitude. Remotely, she reset my modem and had me unplug the DVR. Like I'd done already. Nothing happened.

15 minutes.

Marie got to a point where she didn't know what to do. She would have to refer the problem to someone else and call me back in 10-15 minutes.

I don't think I have to tell you how I felt about that. The clock was ticking.

I watch a lot of television. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe it's not good for me. But I don't smoke or do drugs. I don't drink alcohol. When I come home after a hard day I want to watch TV.  When TV is not available, I break into a cold sweat. My insides turn to jelly. My heart rate goes up. Quick, I think, go online to relax. Look at Facebook or Youtube or check email. But in this case I couldn't because the wifi was out too. Why not have all of the electricity go out then? What's the point of even being home? I needed a screen to look at, damn it!

I was putting my shoes on to go out the door when Marie called back. They were unable to identify the problem remotely and there were no known problems in my area. Could a technician come out the next day?

"Well yes," I said sarcastically, "except I"m going to be at work."

I did consider that I was lucky to get someone the next day, not several weeks from now. But we pay a lot of money for Comcast. I shouldn't have to miss even a day of television or Internet.

I left for my evening activity. When I returned, the TV still blinked a message that there must be some sort of problem. I desperately faced the question of how to cope with the rest of my evening. Without watching one of my shows, how would I wind down enough to go to  sleep?

Hands shaking as if I had the DTs, I leaned against the counter and wondered, "What did the pioneers do without screens to interact with?" I reflected that they were exhausted from working all the time and probably just went to sleep.

Defeated, I looked around for some sort of technology with which to occupy my mind. My eyes fell upon an iPad sized object with a shiny covering. Inside, words appeared. When you came to the last words, you flipped a piece of the object over and a whole new set of words appeared. I didn't see a power source or an on/off button. It didn't beep or flash. There was no "Like" button. Something deep in my mind recognized this object. I'd seen these before. I used to have a lot of them, in fact. It was called, "book."

I carried the book to bed, arranged myself between two cats, and fell asleep.

Sunday, November 29, 2015

Post Blog from Rio: U.S. Americans are Clumsy, But We Show Up on Time

The entire gondola full of tourists gasped as I carelessly fell into the gap between the door and the platform outside; this after repeated warnings in multiple languages to "mind the gap." I sustained minor scratches on my wrist, knee, and stomach, but my pride was most hurt. Especially when a big American jerk told me after I'd been fished out of the bottomless space to "Mind that gap." I was truly embarrassed, especially as we walked around on top of Sugarloaf mountain and people kept asking me if I was all right. Nice to know they care, I suppose.

Other than death defying accidents, it was a lovely visit to the world-famous symbol of Brazil, Sugarloaf mountain. The view of the city was fantastic, and you really get a sense of how absolutely huge metro Rio is. We were tagging along with our friends Chris and Cintia and many members of Cintia's Brazilian family. Without understanding their language, it was interesting to see a large family in action: teenaged boys giggling and pushing each other around; teen girls hanging close together, fashionable and self-conscious; organizing an unruly group of cousins, aunts, and uncles; smiling through the language barrier with Cintia's brother and niece, especially when asking us what kind of ice cream we wanted.

Spending time with Cintia's family also provided the opportunity to witness cultural differences. For example, dinner was planned for 7:00. The four U.S. Americans showed up at 6:55. The South Americans trickled in between 7:45 and 9:00. Whenever we met up with the family, we got there at the designated time and waited a half hour or longer for the locals to show. You just have to go with the flow. No one in Brazil really cares when dinner starts and it doesn't really matter when you think about it.

Clyde and I have enjoyed being here over the Thanksgiving break. Of course, here, Thanksgiving is just another day. We wouldn't even have thought of it except for an obnoxious U.S. American lady at the hotel who loudly wished everyone, Brazilians included, a happy Thanksgiving. Sometimes I'm tempted to tell people I'm from Canada.

Another mass shooting in Colorado was on the news here.

Watching the TV, I noticed the snow flurrying around a bundled up reporter. It's quite a bit warmer here: 30 degrees Celsius. The humidity is high and the city smells like people sweating. It's as if Colorado were a different world. And Denver feels much smaller by comparison.

We were not mugged or kidnapped, and in fact, judging from the TV, the United States is a much more violent place.

Rio's beaches are beautiful and the people are friendly - and very tolerant of visitors who don't speak Portuguese. Fortunately, Clyde speaks Portuguese and managed to communicate with waiters and taxi drivers.

All the same,we are ready to go home and see our cats and put up our Christmas tree. Clyde is already talking about our next trip, perhaps Nicaragua. I need to wait a couple of months. Actually I think our next trip might be to the large and independent nation of Texas to see his family.


Wednesday, November 25, 2015

New City, New Country, New Continent, New Hemisphere

On first impression, it's just like every other crowded, old coastal city. It has that humid, urban smell that New York gets in the heat of summer. There are people everywhere, with little retail establishments all crammed together on every block.

This is my first time to be south of the equator. It seems like it should feel different than it does. The water in our toilet doesn't go the other way around, it just goes straight down.

It does feel different being in South America. The birds are different. The trees are different. It's very green and lush.

And here we are in Rio de Janeiro. I'll bet there are few other places where extreme wealth and utter poverty coexist so visibly.

Clyde and I arrived in Brazil after an overnight flight from the U.S. The taxi ride to the J.W. Marriott was probably the most of the real city that we'll probably see. From the freeway, we saw slums (favelas) literally abutting luxury high rise apartments. Most of the apartment buildings that aren't slums still look a little run down. All residences, rich and poor, seem to have a satellite dish attached to the outside wall. There is graffiti everywhere.  The only perfectly pristine buildings are the churches.

Our hotel is just across the street from the beach. No favilas are visible from here. Our room overlooks the Atlantic Ocean, and of course, has every comfort. It's almost easy to forget the nearby poverty when you're on the roof, 17 stories up, looking down at the coastline and all the incredible green mountains that pop out of the ocean.

We took a walk down the street to take a look at the  90 year old Copacabana Palace. After just a couple of blocks, we were so soaked that we needed a shower. Some Coloradoans have trouble adjusting to high humidity.

Tomorrow we meet up with our friends.Greetings from Brazil!

By the way, this is my 200th BillsWeek post. Wow, I've had a lot to say!

Thursday, November 5, 2015

You Will Find Me on the Space-Time Continuum

I am writing curriculum which will be used by employees in India. It's a challenging project which, among other things, requires a degree of cultural sensitivity. The person I'm working with on this project is based in New Jersey. That is also a different culture.

Meanwhile, I have a weekly conference call with people in Melbourne (Australia), Montreal, and Boston. This call is scheduled for 8:00 a.m. Australian time (AU Eastern), which is 4:00 p.m. U.S. Eastern Time, and for me in the Rocky Mountain region, 2:00 p.m. Oh yes, in Australia, it's the next day. So my meeting is Thursday but the same meeting in Melbourne is on Friday. Just to keep it interesting, last week, while not fully paying attention to this world-wide conference call, I was texting Clyde who was in Tel Aviv, Israel.

It's hard to be centered when you have to spend your day zipping (virtually) around the world and back again. Keeping track of the time zones alone is dizzying.

Even when I don't leave metro Denver, I'm conscious of times and places which exist in exhausting 24 hour simultaneousness.

I doubt if even Albert Einstein could map my existence on the space-time continuum without really getting confused. Did he ever have a conference call with someone who is already living in tomorrow morning?

No wonder people feel lost these days.

I have coworkers in Tempe, Arizona. Twice a year, I have to change my clocks forward or backward for daylight savings time, while in Arizona, the time stays the same. For this reason, scheduling a phone meeting with someone in Arizona is extra tricky.

I can barely sleep at night knowing that my curriculum might be used on the other side of the world at that very minute.

If it can't be done on the phone, I can physically be almost anywhere on Earth in less than 24 hours.  As a matter of fact, Clyde and I will be visiting Rio de Janeiro, Brazil this month. It's quite a contrast from people who 300 years ago could easily go their whole lives without leaving a 10 mile radius of where they were born. You could send a letter to, say, India, but it would take months to get there.

Just to confuse things more, usually when I travel to another continent, like Europe or Asia, I have to adjust to opposing time zones. Day at home is usually night where I'm going and vice-versa. But going to Brazil doesn't present much more of a time change than travelling to the U.S. east coast. It's still confusing, however, because the seasons are opposite. While we're cooling down here, their summer is heating up. I may not have jet lag in Rio, but I won't know what month it is.

I know. This fits into the category of "first world problems." Everyone should have to suffer my trials.

It's really quite amazing when you think about it. Technology opens our world in many ways. What a remarkable time we live in. But I can't help but think that maybe 300 years ago, people slept a little better.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Marriage Equality and the Wedding-Industrial Complex

Often rejected by our families and denied the opportunity to have children, LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) people have historically formed relationships, friendships, and families in alternative ways, making our own rules. Being queer is doing things differently.

So now we have marriage equality. Because of a recent U.S. Supreme Court ruling, our marriages can be exactly the same, legally, as everyone else's. Having always carried the alternative lifestyle banner, where does this new legitimized status leave us? Do our relationships have to be the same as everyone else's now too? Do our weddings suddenly have to look like those of the straight majority?

This is a pertinent question for Clyde and me. We have decided to get married. Yes, we are officially engaged (thank you - please hold all applause until the end). This is a happy occasion that frankly, 20 years ago, I wouldn't have believed possible. Our loved ones are as excited as we are. One friend got goosebumps when we told her.

While we know we're going to get married, we are still thinking about what kind of wedding to have.

No doubt some queer people want to enjoy marriage equality to the fullest and celebrate with exactly the same kind of traditional wedding that everyone else has always been able to have. This would include a church full of flowers, a long lineup of formally dressed best men and women, a first class catered reception dinner, and of course, a honeymoon in the Caribbean. It would be extravagant and yet tasteful, combining tradition with that expected gay aesthetic.

But hold on. Maybe I don't want to automatically conform to the hetero-normative model. I know that saying "hetero-normative" makes me sound "old school gay," but just because we can do it now, does that mean we have to participate in the wedding-industrial complex? Must we spend tens of thousands of dollars on a wedding consultant, obsessing over center pieces, and getting a good band?

Like straight people, we have the option to just go to the city-county building and have a quick civil ceremony.  In Colorado, you don't have to be married by a judge or minister. As long as you have a marriage license, anyone can officiate. We could just do a private ritual in the mountains by ourselves and declare to the world that we are now married.

The more stereotypically LGBT options are also still available to us, of course. We could have a politically correct nondenominational ceremony, a gluten free vegan reception, and a honeymoon marching on Washington.

We could also dress up like fairies and dance around a Maypole.

But I would like to celebrate our legal union in a more modest way. Ok, to be honest, as Clyde says, I'd rather spend the money on another fabulous National Geographic expedition vacation.

Being L,G,B, or T means always questioning the status quo, considering alternatives, and doing what's best for us. Legal marriage doesn't have to change that. It just gives us more choices than we had before.

Sunday, July 26, 2015

POSTBLOG FROM SITKA ALASKA: Goodbye Wilderness!

It seemed like every time we tried to nap, we would be called on deck to observe yet another whale or a bear walking along the shoreline.  I’m not saying I’m tired of seeing wildlife, I’m just tired.

This was not a restful vacation.

The final day in the wilderness, Clyde and I did some kayaking around a little bay whereupon we saw a stream with salmon jumping up the falls, just like on TV. We watched a young brown bear catch a fish and run into the forest with it. The naturalist who was standing on the nearby shore said it was probably nervous about other bears taking his catch.

The expedition ended in Sitka, population 9,000. It is the most civilization we’ve seen in over a week. It’s very picturesque with the rain forest and Pacific Ocean surrounding. One of the hotel employees indicated that it was much smaller than that big city of Juneau.

In Sitka we paid a visit to Saint Michaels Russian Orthodox Cathedral and toured the local raptor rehabilitation center. There were lots of eagles and owls recovering from injuries, most of whom will eventually be released back into the wild.

They apparently aren’t used to “homosexuals” here.  The clerk who checked us into the Super 8 didn’t think Clyde and I should share one queen sized bed.  She finally figured it out and was ok with it in the end.

The best thing about the Super 8 is the wifi, so I can post some photos and one last postblog.

Tomorrow we fly to Seattle and the next day, home to Denver.

It was sad to leave the ship. We made some new friends and shared a lot of experiences together. Some of us continued to have that rocking rolling sensation after we stood on dry land.

I have to say that I love being in Alaska. Though we only saw a little part of it, the unspoiled beauty and all the wildlife, made me feel like the world isn’t necessarily doomed. It seems like at least in Southeast Alaska, they are figuring out how to live with nature without destroying it, giving me hope that it can be done elsewhere as well.
  
It was also wonderful to share the experience with sister Sue and bro-in-law Jerry.  We will remember this trip together for a long time to come.


Now, it’s back to civilization. At least here in Sitka we have a nice big hotel room where the shower and the toilet don’t fill the same space.

Saturday, July 25, 2015

POSTBLOG FROM GLACIER BAY NATIONAL PARK: Stories of Whales and Woes

The 44 year old humpback was known to everyone in the national park so it was a tragic day when her lifeless body was discovered floating in the bay, the victim of a cruise ship hit and run.

After providing many meals for bears and wolves, Snow’s skeleton was cleaned and reassembled and put on display at the Glacier Bay National Park visitor’s center in order to help educate visitors about humpback whales. Needless to say, it is a large skeleton.

Today we traversed the length of Glacier Bay, the most pristine place I’ve ever seen.  There is no development at all. Just miles and miles and miles of turquoise water, glaciers, icebergs, mountains up to 15,000 feet, and forest. The only way to get in and around the park, which is the size of Rhode Island, is by boat. Unfortunately the mystique of the wilderness is compromised when one of those gigantic cruise ships races by.

From the ship’s deck, we saw mountain goats, a family of bears  (a sow and three cubs), and most exciting of all: a pod of Orcas. They were wonderful to watch, their dorsals bobbing up and down in glassy water.  

The whole day was narrated by a couple of guests: a park ranger and a representative of the Tlinket people, both who told stories and educational facts about everything we were observing. I’m sure those hoards on the big cruise liners don’t have a fraction of the experience we are getting.


Just another day in Alaska on the National Geographic Sea Lion. 

Friday, July 24, 2015

POSTBLOG FROM ALASKA: Up Close and Personal with Sea Lions

If you wave your arms, claimed the naturalist on our Zodiac, the sea lions might follow us.

We did, and they did.

Today we took the Zodiacs out to a narrow channel where the open ocean meets the inland passage. The tide moves very fast, and the water is teaming with salmon on their way to spawn. The salmon, in turn, attract the sea lions. Hundreds of them.

I’ve watched sea lions awkwardly lumber on the beach or rocks before, but today we were out in the open ocean watching them swim gracefully and playfully. Occasionally we’d see one catch a fish and slam it against the water in order to break it so they could swallow its pieces.

Even though the wind threatened to blow my hat off, and the rain stung my face, I didn't care. It was so very amazing.

We also saw sea otters floating on their backs in the channel eating sea urchins, using rocks to break them open. And, of course (yawn), we observed more humpback whales. Tonight we saw three humpbacks sleeping at the surface. I actually never tire of seeing humpbacks. I do hope we’ll get to see an orca.


Wednesday, July 22, 2015

POSTBLOG FROM THE RAINFOREST: Are there any Sasquatch in here?

The scientist leading the hike didn’t know whether I was serious when I asked him if Bigfoot resided nearby. His answer was, “Not that I know of.”

One of today’s highlights was a hike in the SE Alaska rainforest. A green carpet of moss covered everything, especially fallen trees. We went way inland enough to see old growth forest which was left alone by loggers in the 20th century because it was too far from shore. So we got the pleasure of seeing trees that were 500 to 1,000 years old.

Also on that hike, we watched salmon swimming and jumping their way upstream to spawn and then to die. Very cool!

Today’s lecture from a naturalist (I keep trying to say naturist, but that’s something else) was about whales. Whales are really smart. Much to the chagrin of whoever’s in charge, some whales have learned that if they hang out near the hatchery, they can capture the newborn fish as they are released. It really messes up the restocking of Pacific salmon. 

Right before lunch, we stood on the bow watching humpbacks do bubble netting. They exhale under water creating a wall of bubbles which herds the krill into a tight, dense wall of food that the giant animals gobble right up.  

I will have a million pictures for Facebook when we get home. Unfortunately the satellite link to the internet can only transmit text, and it costs $.70 per minute or something like that. So for now, anyone who’s interested in our travels will just have to read about it here.


POSTBLOG FROM PETERSBURG ALASKA: Flight Seeing Like Site Seeing Only From a Plane

Seeing the ice fields from a few thousand feet high distracted me from worrying that the little single engine pontoon plane would crash. It was worth the extra $200 to get the aerial perspective – these glaciers are freakin’ huge.

From the air, we saw vast snow fields producing the magnificent glaciers which like frozen rivers, powerfully carve out valleys, smooth over peaks, and calf icebergs which melt in the inlets and turn the water green.  Climate change, which is real by the way, is most evident here in Southeast  Alaska  when you learn how rapidly the ice is retreating.

Just another day of thrills as we tour Southeast Alaska’s Inland Passage on the National Geographic Sea Lion.

This afternoon, we stopped in the town of Petersburg, population 3,000, for a bit of shore leave. While my sister Sue and I opted to take the flight tour over the glaciers, others leisurely explored the town and admired the fishing boats docked nearby. It’s amazing how there is no way to drive out of these little towns, including Juneau, so you have to either fly, boat, or ferry to get away. 

This might be a good time to describe the ship. It is Calypso-sized (of Jaques Cousteau fame) with outdoor decks in the front and the back. Clyde and I are in a little cabin, the size of a small dorm room with twin beds and a toilet-shower combination.

We spend a lot of our downtime hanging out in the lounge which consists of tables and chairs, a bar, and coffee and tea all day. The lounge is also where we hear lectures. Before  lunch, one of the experienced naturalists taught us all about bears (there are only three species of bear in North America: black, brown, and polar). Late in the afternoon, a local fisherwoman told us about the fishing industries including the seasonal nature of the work, and how invested these locals are in making sure the stock remains sustainable.  Much learning was had by all.

The dining room, on the same level as the lounge, is where we take our meals. And the food is wonderful. Dinner always features options of seafood, beef, or vegetarian. Tonight we ate crabs which were caught near Petersburg  just hours before. So good!


As of this writing, a general announcement has been made. There are humpback whales off the bow. Ho hum, whales again …

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

POSTBLOG FROM ALASKA: If You Touch Your Tongue to a Glacier, Will It Stick? And Here Whaley Whaley!

With a crack and a rumble, the gigantic curtains of ice broke suddenly from the mountain sized glacier and crashed into the water below, creating a mini-tsunami that forced the Zodiac raft to face into the waves as they spread out into the fjord.

What a spectacular day!

In the morning we hiked into the rain forest, observing a large brown bear and her three cubs ambling quickly along the shoreline.

The afternoon took us from the ship in Zodiacs to observe a huge deep blue crystal glacier up close, dodging ice burgs inhabited by seals who were just finishing their pupping season.

As we observed an incredible late sunset and prepared to make our way to our cabins, a pod of humpback whales appeared off the bow of the ship. We shivered and waited between each animal’s plume of breath, watching  the creatures’ backs and tails arch and dive amid the clicking of many cameras on deck.

Each event was accompanied by expert commentary from excellent naturalists, interpreting what we were seeing and answering our questions.

The answer is no, by the way. If you lick a glacier, your tongue will not stick. But you don’t dare get close enough to find out.

I can’t even begin to convey this extraordinary day except to say that if it ended now, we would have gotten our money’s worth.

But tomorrow, new adventures will be had as we cruise Alaska’s Inside Passage on the National Geographic Sea Lion. 

Sunday, July 19, 2015

POSTBLOG FROM JUNEAU: Aboard the Sea Lion, Jumping Fish, Practicing with Life Preservers

 At last, we are aboard are home for the next seven days, the National Geographic Sea Lion. It's a tiny vessel, with just 60 people aboard, comparedIt's a tiny vessel, with just 60 people aboard, compared to the giant  cruise ships docked next to us that hold 6000. It reminds me of the S.S. Minnow of Gilligan's Island fame.

 We have received our emergency and abandon ship training, mastering the putting on of life preservers, and we've had our first meal on board. Now, Clyde and I are settling down into our small but comfy cabin awaiting the midnight launch.  Tomorrow we will wake up in a fjord somewhere.

 But the wildlife experiences have already started.  Right next to the ship, fish are jumping. Some of them multiple times, like skipping rocks. I don't know what kind of fish they are or why they are jumping. We will have to ask one of the naturalists aboard.

 If you are following our travels on Facebook, I'm afraid I have bad news. Because of the slowness and expense of the Internet connection on board, I won't be posting anymore pictures until the end of the trip.   I will, however, try to keep up the daily post blogs.

For now, bon voyage.


Saturday, July 18, 2015

POSTBLOG FROM JUNEAU: City of Dogs

There are a lot of dogs here in Juneau. The hotel where we are staying has a limit to the number of pets you can have. Five. No more than five dogs can be in your hotel room.

Yelp reviews talked about a dog at the front desk. I pictured a big Alaskan husky or something. Turns out it's a little miniature poodle type puppy.

Everywhere you go there are dogs.

As we walked downtown we saw people with dogs.  As we walked by giant cruise ships which are not like the one we sail on tomorrow, we saw people with dogs.

As we hiked around the magnificent Mendenhall Glacier, yep, people with dogs.

I thought Boulder was dog crazy.

Juneau is very big and very small. Land area wise, it's one of the biggest in the U.S. Population wise, however, it's only 30,000 or so. I don't know how many dogs live here, but I'll bet it's a lot.

It rains a lot in Juneau, thus the many waterfalls in the surrounding mountains.

Tomorrow our cruise starts. I don't know if there will be dogs on board.

Friday, July 17, 2015

POSTBLOG FROM SEATTLE: Credit Card Fraud to Start the Trip

No sooner did we land in Seattle this morning than my credit card stopped working. A call to the customer service line revealed that someone has been using my card number to charge hundreds of dollars at Best Buy. So they are cancelling the card.

Oh but not to worry, they'll send it overnight to my home address, where I won't be for two weeks.

Could the timing be any worse? I need that card to pay for everything, from my baggage check tomorrow on Alaska Airlines to hotels to meals to wifi on the ship.

Argh!

After Clyde calmed me down, I realized that I have a debit card for use in just such a situation. I don't think the trip is ruined after all. Just a little excitement to start the vacation off.

It was a fun day anyway.

We spent the afternoon wandering around Seattle where I finally got to see Pike's Place Market. Last time we were here it was a Sunday night and the place was empty. This afternoon it was very crowded but I did get to see some dead fish.



And just to make the afternoon really great, the 7-Eleven near the hotel had sugar free slurpees. Yeah!

Tomorrow we head for Juneau, one step closer to our National Geographic cruise. Assuming I get some internet access, I'll try to post reports on BillsWeek.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Splurging on Electronic Books

I'm finally taking a big step into the 21st century. I'm reading books electronically on my iPad.

This momentous change is coming about as I pack for a nearly two week vacation. After counting out shirts and underwear, and making room for the laptop and all my prescriptions, there is no room for books in my one checked bag and backpack carry on. The iPad, however, takes up very little space. So instead of cramming in two or three paper volumes, I'm downloading enough reading to keep me occupied for several months.

I can't travel without something to read. If I don't have enough to read, I get very anxious. I have to keep my mind occupied. God forbid I should be alone with my thoughts. You never know when you'll be stuck in some airport terminal for hours or waiting for your companion to be seen in the emergency room. Reading a big fat novel can make that time more bearable.

Why did I wait so long to take advantage of electronic literature?

I'm not a Luddite. I enjoy technology. I depend on a computer and a smart phone, and I love my DVR.

Some people claim to prefer the smell of paper and the feel of a turning page, the holding of a solid book in their hand. I'm not one of those.

I've also long objected to the collecting of thousands of volumes that take up space, gather dust, and are read once (if that) and never used again. I purged my outsized book collection long ago.

Don't get me wrong. I love books. I read them all the time. But most of the time, I borrow them from the public library.

I'm a big fan of the public library. If you want something that they don't have, they will borrow it from another library. And the library is free to everyone.

Free.

Even though they are less expensive than hardcover, electronic books still cost money, generally speaking.

And I am cheap. I am so cheap that I have read mostly only library books for years. I've read mysteries, fiction, non-fiction, biographies, and best sellers without spending a dime.

I understand the library even has a way for ,me to borrow electronic books. I don't know how that works, but it's worth looking into.

Thursday, July 2, 2015

One Nation UNDER God

I hate singing patriotic songs in church. Confusing patriotism with worshiping God is blasphemy. The flag, a symbol of our country, is too often an idolatrous object, worshiped like the golden calf in Exodus. Revered and saluted, the stars and stripes are respected more than many of the people it represents.

A typical liberal, I'm so appalled by others' blind, hysterical flag waving, I sometimes forget that I am also a proud citizen.

July 4 has always been an important holiday for me.

  • The summer before second or third grade, I sustained an eye injury and was hospitalized. I was discharged on July 4. Blind in one eye, I still wanted to see fireworks. My dad drove me over to Omaha's Peony Park and from the inside of the car, I watched with the good eye. 
  • In 1992 I got married on the fourth.  It wasn't a legal wedding. At that time, few of us sincerely thought legal gay marriage would be possible in our lifetimes. But celebrate we did as friends and family came from all over. It was a blast. The relationship didn't last, but that year, the fourth was great.
  • One of my favorite July 4 memories is of a square dance convention in Baltimore in the year 2000. And yes, I square danced as a card carrying member of the Rocky Mountain Rainbeaus. We took a dinner cruise out on the harbor to watch fireworks. As we passed the point where Francis Scott Key was inspired to write the Star Spangled Banner, the huge crowd of mostly gay men and lesbians suddenly began singing, God Bless America. It was a goosebump moment. I thought that if all these people who have been told over and over again that they don't deserve equal rights, the right to marry, the opportunity to serve in the military, the freedom to love whomever they choose - that their citizenship is "less than," if they can still love this country, there must be something worth loving. 

This year, as we celebrate the nation's birthday, our citizenship is reaffirmed by the Supreme Court's ruling on LGBT marriage equality. I feel a little more like a proud American than I did last year.

I'm not a flag waver. I don't place country with God above all else. But I am a patriot. I believe the U.S.A. is a basically good place which requires constant tinkering and vigilance to stay that way. When I criticize the U.S. and protest some of the things it does, I'm not only exercising my patriotic duty to make things better, I am participating in the freedom of speech guaranteed so clearly by the Constitution.

This doesn't mean I think other nations are inferior. One of my favorite songs, rooted in a national song of Finland, allows for love of God and country without chauvinistic nationalism:

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
a song of peace for lands afar and mine;
this is my home, the country where my heart is;
here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine:
but other hearts in other lands are beating
with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country's skies are bluer than the ocean,
and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;
but other lands have sunlight too, and clover,
and skies are everywhere as blue as mine:
O hear my song, thou God of all the nations,
a song of peace for their land and for mine.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Obnoxiousness Not Limited to Religious Fundamentalists

The only thing as obnoxious as a judgmental religious fundamentalist is an obnoxious, judgmental atheist.

I'm not talking about those with sincerely held beliefs who make a personal choice to live a certain way.  I'm talking about people who think their way is the only way and that those who are different are evil. Crusades to change everyone else run the continuum from Bible-thumping Christian to evangelical vegan. If you don't conform, you are wrong.

While we're at it, let's include self-righteous vegetarians in this list.

Not all atheists and vegans are obnoxious, of course. And some of my best friends are vegetarian. But they accept the fact that I eat meat and I respect their right not to.

I, in fact, am strongly Christian, but I do everything I can to not be confused with the self-righteous evangelical fundamentalists which so dominate the media these days. I just hate it when the "Christian perspective" is represented by individuals who's values contrast so sharply with mine.

Case in point: the media coverage of Caitlyn Jenner, which has been overwhelmingly positive and supportive of her gender transition, often goes to "Christians" for the alternative point of view. Naturally, twits like Mike Huckabee are quoted with their idiotic references to Jenner's sinful motives (as if one would become a trans woman just to see naked girls in the shower) and so on, with the underlying assumption that all other Christians share that point of view.

I couldn't disagree more. In my mind, and in the faith communities with whom I associate, the only acceptable Christian response to gender transition is compassion and acceptance. If the Christian gospels were set in the 21st century, I'm quite sure that Jesus would be hanging out with transgendered individuals as well as others who are estranged from the current religious establishment.

My vegan, atheist, and spiritual  friends and I share common values of justice, tolerance, and global awareness. We share a belief in science and the scientific method. There are more similarities than differences between us.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Phone Number Roots Go Deep

When I gave up my land line, I moved the number to my cell phone so I could keep it.

I've had the same phone number for over 25 years.

It's a good phone number, a constant in my life no matter how many times I've changed homes (and jobs and boyfriends and cars ...).

The fact that my number starts with area code 303 is a particular point of pride. It means I've lived in Denver longer than someone with a 720 area code. 720 was introduced a few years back when they ran out of 303 phone numbers.

So I'm not a newbie to the area, as illustrated by my vintage area code. This is important to me. I don't know why.

I think it has something to do with needing to belong someplace.

In Virginia, where I had an 804 area code in the 1980s, you had to have roots multiple generations deep to be considered a Virginian. Coming from Nebraska (erroneously referred in the Old Dominion as a "yankee" state), I never stood a chance. If I'd stayed there the rest of my life, I'd still die an outsider, no matter what my phone number was.

When I lived in New York City, also in the 1980s, my phone number started with 212, the traditional area code of Manhattan. While I didn't reside in a trendy Village apartment or a fabulous penthouse overlooking Central Park (indeed, I lived way up town in a  dormitory room with only a bed, a desk, and a rented push button touch-tone phone), anyone who called me knew I was in the most important borough and that reflected on my own importance.

It used to be that a phone number went with a place. You called a number, and you got the home or office where that phone resided, no matter who was there. Now, phones are as portable as their users. Our house doesn't have a phone. Both of us living there have our own phone which goes where we go.

These days, you can't always tell where someone lives by their area code. More and more people keep their phone numbers even when moving to another state. You could be travelling anywhere in the world and still answer your phone, so the phone number is no indication of where you are currently located.

I don't judge other people by their phone numbers. Actually, I don't know anyone's number except mine. Most everyone I call is programmed into my iPhone. I don't even need to punch a button. I can simply say, "Siri, call so and so,." With blue tooth,, I can even do this while driving. Actually, I haven't yet figured out how to use blue tooth, but I know it can be done.

I really should learn someone else's number.  I imagine myself in the emergency room, bleeding profusely. Someone asks who they should call. I give them Clyde's name and they ask for his number. Alas, though I know many details about Clyde including his middle name, I don't know his phone number. I only know mine.

I hope the hospital personnel are impressed by my area code.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Flu Forces Extended Stay at Home

Forced by the B strain of this year's influenza virus to stay home for several days and do nothing, I'm here to tell you that missing work and watching TV all day is not all it's cracked up to be. For one thing, I was miserable most of that time, sporting a fever that averaged 101, coughing so much I thought I broke a rib, and shivering with chills so severe that every blanket in the house couldn't keep me warm.

I know you're wondering, and yes, I did get a flu shot back in October. Lot of good that did.

My boss wants to know why I keep telling people it was the B strain. I don't know, but that's what my doctor told me. It seems more official than when people get a stomachache and say they have "the flu."

During those moments when I felt slightly better, say, having just mastered sucking on an ice cube, or when my temp dipped to 99 and my head didn't pound as much, I perused Facebook and posted what I thought through my feverish stupor were clever little gems of wisdom. When I look at them now through the clarity of 98.6, I see that among other things, I ranted at an ice cream truck's endless looping music,  and complained that my actual hair hurt. I generally don't put intimate and personal information on Facebook, but I did keep the entire webosphere appraised of my temperature. Fortunately I did not report on the ongoing consistency of my nose mucus.

And I had my phone to play with. I think I exchanged some foggy texts with my sister and brother but I'm not sure. I must have alarmed my sister because she checked in every couple hours for a couple days. It kept me from climbing the walls.

I learned that Alfalfa's in Boulder has great chicken soup. Clyde brought it to me.

I also learned that taking Clyde to urgent care after being cooped up for so long was like going on a vacation. He also got the bug, but having gone on tamaflu the day I was diagnosed, his encounter with the virus wasn't quite as bad as mine.

Like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window, I kept a close eye on my neighbors. I didn't have the strength to rage at them through the window like I usually do, but I managed to quietly judge their actions, particularly during those walks of shame that occur just before dawn. It was also fun judging the man who wore VERY comfortable shorts on his deck while talking on the phone all day long. Kind of made me miss licra shorts guy who lived there before.

A building down the block was getting a new roof. I watched the workers up there for half a day before I realized I wasn't hallucinating them. No wonder they never started flying.

Now recovered, I'm still a little weak and I'm coughing a lot. I have to go back to work. I wish I could just stay home a few more days and really enjoy some TV.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Car Finally Fits in the Garage (and other ways I'm finally making peace with my house)

The new car is a 2015 Nissan Versa with all the extras. As Rafael, the auto salesperson, tried to impress me with facts about the engine which I didn't understand, I marveled at the satellite radio and obsessed about the color. And I wondered what it would be like to give up my Altima for a smaller car.

The Altima was bigger and had a smoother ride. But it was scratched and dented because I kept scraping the sides as I drove into my ancient, narrow garage.

I also drove it pretty hard, back and forth to Highlands Ranch every day, so after 120,000 miles, it was time to let go.

As I emptied the old car of personal items for the final time, I thought about getting all teary and sentimental. We had some good times, that car and I. I'll never forget the big road trip to Kentucky, Indiana, and other points east (see blogs of same) in the summer of 2010. There were lots of trips to Nebraska and Wyoming, and scenic drives to state parks all over Colorado.

Lots of good memories.

But as I moved the tire pressure checker thing from the old car to the new, and the can of stuff you spray into a flat tire in an emergency, and the plastic dust pan I use as a shovel when stuck in the snow, I decided that cars are only machines. They don't have souls. They aren't living things.

Unlike my house. which is very much alive and evil and out to get me.

Ok, just to be accurate, I live in one of a bunch of old 1950s multi-unit ranch style condominiums. Mine has a nice patio and garden, but don't let that fool you. It came from Hell to torture me.

I had trouble the minute I moved in (see blogs from the summer of 2013). The furnace kicked on for no reason in the middle of summer. I was inundated with ants. I found out there were people living in the basement that the previous owner failed to disclose. Every time I turned the bedroom light and the TV on at the same time, the power went off. When I removed the window air conditioner unit, swarms of wasps living inside it filled the room.

And speaking of insect life, I sure have learned more than I ever wanted to know about bedbugs.

There was a long, long list of problems that first year. In addition, though I was in the luxurious new position of having an actual garage, it was too narrow for my car. To add insult to injury, there was a bump in the concrete floor which scrapped loudly against the bottom of the vehicle as I drove in and out.

Things with the house have gradually improved. I have a new portable air conditioner. I've adjusted to the odd circumstance of not having any drawers in the kitchen. The furnace now limits itself to winter only, though we regularly have to open the windows while it's snowing because it gets so hot in the living room. And we are bedbug free for over a year.

Best of all, Clyde moved in, making it feel so much more like home. He likes it there. He doesn't think the house is evil.

He also discovered and removed  a huge colony of ants in a planter outside the front door which was the source of the infestation that first summer.

I've made my peace with most of the problems and I'm gradually fixing things up so I can resell my house someday. Some of the little flaws actually add a touch of character. So the front door sticks sometimes and actually makes me worried we'll be trapped in a fire some day. HA HA! Character.

At least now, I can park my car in the garage. It's lighter too, so I don't scrape the bottom any more (unless Clyde is in the passenger seat - he has to get out before I pull in).

I actually almost think I like living in my old house now. Our house, I mean.

Darn it, I think I left all my reusable grocery bags in the old car.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Huffington Post Adds Years

I realized things were changing recently when reading the Huffington Post. Instead of automatically clicking the Gay Voices section like I've always done, I started with the Huff/Post 50 section - you know, the one directed at old people.

This is nothing less than a seismic shift in my interests. I now relate much more to contemplating retirement than millennial celebrities getting drag queen style makeovers. Also, I'm really not interested in the different ways gay men are using dating apps. What's a dating app anyway? Is this that "Grindr" I've heard about?  In my day, you walked up to a guy in a bar and asked him to dance. What ever happened to that?

Reading about why women should date men in their 50s is much more interesting to me than James Franco's constant toying with us about his sexual orientation. Is he or isn't he? I don't care, James! Just take your shirt off and shut up.

Aging is inevitable, and it turns out, I'm kind of enjoying it.

For example, there are opportunities to save money. It hasn't happened very often yet, but occasionally a store clerk or ticket taker asks Clyde and me if we'd like to take advantage of the senior discount. Rather than standing there insulted, I calculate the savings and ask what age qualifies us. I'm usually not quite old enough (I won't speak for Clyde), but I'm looking forward to the day when I can save a dollar on museum admission.

And there is retirement to look forward to. Thanks to a couple of good investments here and there, it looks like I'll be able to do it.

The next decade and a half will probably fly by so some plans need to be made now. Like, if I want the mortgage paid off before I retire, I'd better plan ahead. How many new cars will I buy between now and age 65?

When the time comes and our fuzzy loved ones are no longer with us, should we adopt a new kitten who might tie us down 15-20 years from now when we want to travel? Ok, on that  topic, I have been informed in no uncertain terms, that yes, we will always have cats, no matter what.

In some ways, we're already plenty old. I'm a card carrying member of AARP. And Clyde and I are regular early bird diners. We like to get to Black Eyed Pea about 4:30, before it gets crowded.

Saturday, March 7, 2015

Still Recovering from Old Yeller

I don't care for violence on TV or in the movies. Just ask Clyde - it doesn't matter how many Oscars it's won, I refuse to watch if there's any blood or killing.  If, for example, we see a gruesome death while  watching the X Files, something that we do occasionally thanks to Netflix,  I'll close my eyes until it's over. On the medical shows, I'll close my eyes when surgery is portrayed. If the bleeding character is a human adult, I don't like it.

But I absolutely come unglued if a fictional child or animal is threatened or harmed in any way.

I know it's all just make believe.  As you might explain to a child, no one is really hurt in the TV show, it's just actors pretending.

I take them at their word when they say no animals were harmed during production. I know no actual actor of any species or any age is hurt when something pretend happens on the screen.

Yet, I just can't stand to think of even a fictional child or animal getting hurt. I teared up just researching web sites for movies where the dog dies.

I trace my sensitivity back to Old Yeller, a Disney movie from 1957. Featuring a boy and his dog on the frontier of Texas, Yeller is the boy's best friend and protector of the family. As a very young child, I watched enraptured by the whole movie, identifying with the boy (I too had a dog best friend), following the ups and downs of their lives.

Until the part where the boy has to shoot Old Yeller.

I was so shocked and upset that I never really got over it.

In all fairness, Yeller had rabies and in the context of the story, shooting him was the right thing to do. But I never got over it. I wouldn't have cared, in fact I would have cheered, if the overly strict father had been shot instead.

It seems like every Disney movie from that era involved animals that died. One need not look beyond the classic Bambi, to know what I'm talking about. Everyone who's seen it remembers vividly the moment when Bambi's mother is shot by a hunter. It was enough to put me off Disney, which severely limited the movies I was able to watch as a child.

If I had children, I wouldn't let them watch Old Yeller until they were well into adulthood. Even then, not without warning them.

Marley and Me? Forget it. Never saw it.

The only exception I'll make is The Lion King. Even though Mufasa dies, it's such a great story that I'll overlook it this one time.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Language Snobbery Ensures Superiority

I try to keep things upbeat and positive in Billsweek. The hope is that my naturally cheerful disposition will bring some pleasure into your otherwise humdrum day.

But there are times when I am pushed to the limit and can take it no longer. My sunny outlook is transformed into teeth-grinding frustration.

At the moment, I hate it when those who set an example for the rest of us  (journalists, teachers, writers, and just people who should know better) misuse the English language.

I am especially annoyed by use of the word, "Nother."

As in, "If you think I'm going to say that, you have a whole nother thing coming."

In fact, "nother" is not a word. What the speaker means to say is, "You have another whole thing coming."

I'm sure that if you listen to me speak in ordinary conversation, you'll hear a number of grammatical errors. I'm not perfect.

When someone asks me how I'm doing, for example, I usually reply, "Good!" I should say I'm doing "well." So I obviously don't practice what I preach. At least not always. But that doesn't excuse other people.

Another one that bugs me is when someone says, "... whether or not ..."

It is not necessary to say, "or not" after whether. "Or not" is implied.

Whether you agree with me, I think we can all get behind the idea that no one should ever say, "Irregardless," which, like nother, is not a real word. Usually, "Regardless" will suffice, as in, "I refuse to speak incorrectly, regardless of the ignorance of those around me. "

It drives me crazy when individuals take it upon themselves to be the language police, correcting everything that is said to the point where friends don't feel comfortable speaking at all. But it's just so hard to not be that person!

There's a reason why we speak with certain rules: so we can understand each other. If you use a lot of slang in your speech, for example, you may not be understood by someone from another country or region, or someone for whom English is a second language.

In class-conscious societies, and ours is, the level of adherence to standard language identifies an individual's socio-economic status. In other words, speaking well makes you look more sophisticated and less ignorant. As demonstrated in the play, Pygmalion, by George Bernard Shaw, and in its later incarnation as the musical, My Fair Lady, one might overcome one's low class background by bumping their language usage up a notch.

In other words, you can probably get more opportunities in life if you "talk good."

Next time I feel like being the language police, I'll write about the proper way to use commas. That's not controversial at all ...