Saturday, June 23, 2007

Man, I Miss Shakesville

It's only been a couple of days, but the denial of service attack on one of my favorite blogs is really getting on my nerves.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "So much so that it's driven you to post at your own blog for once, apparently."\\

Monday, June 11, 2007

Thank You, Hwy 34 Towing



My thanks to Highway 34 Towing for getting our poor van back to Corvallis. In honor of the occasion: my first-ever picture post (which would make more sense if you had met the driver, who really did look like Dreadstar in his hoodie, honest). Doubtless I'll be cat-blogging in no time (or will once I get a cat).

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Sometimes enthusiasm is excusable."\\

Saturday, June 09, 2007

Well, Good For Them

"Hi, John. Your former classmates are graduating, and having a party tomorrow. We'd like to see you there."

"Gee. I'd like to. On the other hand, I feel kind of as though I've finally healed up after the hysterectomy, and now I've been invited to a baby shower."

"That's understandable. But when are we ever going to be together again?"


"I'm over forty and my kids are grown, I suppose I don't have to do anything I really don't want to do. But maybe I really do want to go to this."

"Besides, Corporal R.N. is being sent back for a second tour in Iraq right after graduation."


"Oh, dear. He deserves a kind word at the very least. It's a disgrace on all of us that all that nonsense is still going on."

"Okay, see you there."


//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "It's remarkable the things people really do want to do."\\

Saturday, June 02, 2007

A Little Here, A Little There

I make a living (or close to one) by a variety of things: I'm an in-home caregiver, serving the needs of people who can't take care of everything themselves, but don't want to move into a care facility. I work occasionally at a daytime center for adults (mostly old people) who need some degree of assistance. I'm a writer, when I can force myself to do it (and can force myself to submit it to editors), and on rare occasions I get paid for it.

I like to think of myself as a massage therapist, but I don't make much of my income from it. Still, massage is something I do, and I make some money at it when I can. I have a studio at home, and I work from a clinic downtown, and I also make house calls.

The other day I was offered a rather unusual house call: to a house in the country, near Toledo. That's nearly an hour's drive, normally outside my range, but the client was someone I'd seen before, and she offered to pay extra for the mileage,and Kathe liked the idea of using the house call as an excuse for a quick trip to the coast.

We figured we'd go to the client's house together and she'd read int he car while I did the massage, and then we'd go past Toledo and on to Newport, then head home in time for me to work a night shift at a client's house in Corvallis.

What actually happened was that after my appointment, we drove into Toledo and tootled around a few blocks, enjoying glimpses of its unique character (creative architectural use of the hilly terrain, sculpture made from old industrial components). We were about to get back onto the highway and continue to Newport when the van started shaking horribly and parts literally fell off it.

We went into one of the only businesses open in Toledo on Saturday, a tavern called Holy Toledo!, where a very kind and helpful woman named Jackie helped us get our bearings and let us use her phone (no cellular service in Toledo).

Since there was no tow truck available, I drove with great care (Kathe following on foot, picking up bearings and nuts that fell off the left front axle) to the only auto shop in town that was open on Saturday. Incredibly, they were able to diagnose the problem as a damaged CV shaft and install a new one, all in time for us to drive back to Corvallis for my night shift. I called the home-care agency just to be on the safe side, so they could start trying to find someone who could work the shift for me, in case I couldn't get back in time.

We went and had lunch at one of the only restaurants open on Saturday, and came back to new bad news: as soon as the mechanic had tried to drive the van on its new CV shaft, the van tore it apart as it had the last one. Apparently the fault is actually in the transmission. Oy.

So, back to Holy Toledo!, where I called the agency and told them I probably couldn't make the shift after all, and Kathe and I tried to find a bus or car rental agency that could get us back over the Coast Range, and failing that (which we did), to find a friend who would come all the way to Toledo and drive us home. Incredibly, we did. Thanks, Dinaz!

We got back just about when my shift would have started, but the agency had already replaced me for the night, and I was just as glad I didn't have to work tonight.

On the way home, a migraine crept up on me and did me a world of hurt. I was in pretty bad shape by the time we got home, but at this point I feel pretty good, and look forward to a good night's sleep.

What crept up on Kathe during the ride was something less amenable to treatment. All along the way, she made observations like, "This is where the Pig Lady's house used to be" or "The road used to run up there, and down where we're driving was a lovely little hollow", or "There was a garage over there, that had been a blacksmith's shop, it was really charming". By the time she'd seen the straightened and sanitized highway a second time, she was depressed. The new Highway 20 to the coast may be faster and safer, but a great deal has been lost in the process.

So: a different day from most, but it had its good points. We have decided that we'll definitely go back to Toledo in order to intentionally explore it.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Go on a weekday."\\

Friday, June 01, 2007

From Pandagon, I followed a link to a guy who compares online cartoonist Chris Muir with Bill Mauldin.

Chris Muir? Bill Mauldin? Hoo boy.

Leaving aside the ability to draw worth a darn, or the ability to combine words and images to create an impact (maybe even a laugh)...

This guy really has no clue who Bill Mauldin was or what he believed in, does he?


This is as bad as that clown who tried to claim Johnny Cash as a conservative.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "No, it's worse."\\