The first space we ever collected rent for was in our basement under the kitchen. The bed was in a loft tucked under the stairs. We got 50 bucks a month I think. About the third person to stay there, Susan (shoes on) Sugai, remained with us for several years. She cared for our son Nat on the morning Beth and I were at the hospital for the birth of our daughter Meredith. She came from her home in Alaska to the weddings of both kids. She was the first, but far from the last, to transition from tenant to friend.
Over the years I have evolved a rental process in which I ask prospective tenants to complete a questionnaire which includes the amount of rent they consider appropriate and affordable. I almost always get responses from several people before making a decision and very frequently the decisions are difficult because there is more than one attractive candidate. I am involved in this process now for the little cottage we own in the University District and I have three couples to choose between.
The first couple is married and have been traveling and living freely for several years and now are ready to settle down and stay in one place. This could be code for "have a baby", but that was not said. They said all the right words about the little house that I like a lot and seem both able and inclined to give it good care. The woman could be a TV newscaster. In addition to being pretty she was dressed in completely conventional wear. The husband however has shoulder length tresses falling from beneath his baseball cap (worn with the bill forward). The second couple was represented only by the female. She seemed like a total long shot when we spoke on the phone, but when I opened the door there she stood, bike helmet in hand. That was just the first small karmic element. She is a graduate of Nat's alma mater, Bastyr University school of alternative medicine where she majored in nutrition and psychology. She inspected the premises thoroughly, the most anyone ever has, corrected my misidentification of a certain herb, spoke of raising some vegetables and of her partner who teaches yoga and is currently on a two month long silent retreat in California. She can't speak to him for another week, but she stayed and talked to me for nearly an hour. Her middle name is Sage, a word that is pleasing as a noun and admirable as an adjectives. She emitted a sense of quiet competence and was just off beat enough (Sage) to be interesting. Her boyfriend bares the hopelessly Republican name Brent. Overcoming that to become a yoga teaching semi-monk is a sound accomplishment in my book. The third person, also a woman representing an absent man, appeared late in the day. She is a curve ball, a poseur. She is a complete fake out. As she stood before me in her flower child clothes with a dredlock hanging from each temple I knew I need not waste time with her. What was she thinking? Had she not seen that the rent would be around a thousand dollars a month. I let her look around on her own. Her inspection was cursory. Quite soon she returned to me and we began to talk. Mostly just to be polite I asked where she is in life, what she is up to. The answer stunned me. She's taking graduate classes in computer-linguistics. Immediately I knew she is not only smarter than I thought, but also smarter than I am. We talked on for some twenty minutes. Eventually I mentioned her appearance and how she had thrown me off. It's just the way she chooses to dress. No further reason. I love it. She has the most sound financial position of the three.
Advice is welcome.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
A Visit To The Doctor
.
“Your biopsy is negative for cancer”
“Huh?”
In a day surgery last week my wife gave up one of her four parathyroids. She didn’t need it. Yesterday while she was waiting to see the doctor for a follow up, a nurse passed by and cheerily said, “Negative for cancer.” What makes this a notable event was not the great relief she felt, but the surprise, or even shock that there was any suspicion of cancer. The misbehaving parathyroid was excised because it was causing her to lose bone density. No one had mentioned anything about cancer. We celebrated last night with a glass of sparkling apple juice. That seemed about right.
The parathyroidectomy got me thinking about losing body parts, how common it is, how many we seem able to do without. In a way you can think of life as a process of bodily erosion. It starts in infancy with your toe and finger nails. Before long somebody is cutting off your hair. (If you cut off half an inch of hair a month and live for 80 years you will have grown and cut off 12 times 40 inches or 40 feet.) Of course your skin has been shedding from the get go, long before you have to pay someone to take it off by the piece. You can lose a digit or even a larger extremity and still carry on. We’re told that one of the kidneys is superfluous. Take that. Teeth, tonsils, gall bladder, spleen, cellulose, appendix. Where does it stop? Apparently somewhere beyond breasts, lymph nodes, and uterus. I venture guys could get by after a nipplectomy. There are four parathyroids. You need only about half of one to survive.
Opps. This is now my second revision or third attempt to get it right. I'm stunned at how wrong is the third sentence of the previous paragraph. The removal process actually starts on about day three with your foreskin, or apparently in some places the labia major. I'm not quite sure about this. Also sometimes taken are the gonads and scrotum. In humans I think this is usually delayed a few years. If you happen to own a prostate gland, you can't be sure of taking it to the grave. Also on the list could be moles, warts, hemangiomas, and hair from legs, eye brows and backs. I now have no confidence at all that my list is complete, but perhaps I have now listed all the really interesting parts.
There are of course always gray areas. Partial part removal such as for biopsy would include just about everything I suppose so let's just say this is a list of whole part removal. There is also the odd situation in which one may lose the use of a part but not the part itself. The colostomy procedure comes to mind. I believe this is the end of this post.
Well there you have both an anecdote and a musing, but is it at all amusing?
“Your biopsy is negative for cancer”
“Huh?”
In a day surgery last week my wife gave up one of her four parathyroids. She didn’t need it. Yesterday while she was waiting to see the doctor for a follow up, a nurse passed by and cheerily said, “Negative for cancer.” What makes this a notable event was not the great relief she felt, but the surprise, or even shock that there was any suspicion of cancer. The misbehaving parathyroid was excised because it was causing her to lose bone density. No one had mentioned anything about cancer. We celebrated last night with a glass of sparkling apple juice. That seemed about right.
The parathyroidectomy got me thinking about losing body parts, how common it is, how many we seem able to do without. In a way you can think of life as a process of bodily erosion. It starts in infancy with your toe and finger nails. Before long somebody is cutting off your hair. (If you cut off half an inch of hair a month and live for 80 years you will have grown and cut off 12 times 40 inches or 40 feet.) Of course your skin has been shedding from the get go, long before you have to pay someone to take it off by the piece. You can lose a digit or even a larger extremity and still carry on. We’re told that one of the kidneys is superfluous. Take that. Teeth, tonsils, gall bladder, spleen, cellulose, appendix. Where does it stop? Apparently somewhere beyond breasts, lymph nodes, and uterus. I venture guys could get by after a nipplectomy. There are four parathyroids. You need only about half of one to survive.
Opps. This is now my second revision or third attempt to get it right. I'm stunned at how wrong is the third sentence of the previous paragraph. The removal process actually starts on about day three with your foreskin, or apparently in some places the labia major. I'm not quite sure about this. Also sometimes taken are the gonads and scrotum. In humans I think this is usually delayed a few years. If you happen to own a prostate gland, you can't be sure of taking it to the grave. Also on the list could be moles, warts, hemangiomas, and hair from legs, eye brows and backs. I now have no confidence at all that my list is complete, but perhaps I have now listed all the really interesting parts.
There are of course always gray areas. Partial part removal such as for biopsy would include just about everything I suppose so let's just say this is a list of whole part removal. There is also the odd situation in which one may lose the use of a part but not the part itself. The colostomy procedure comes to mind. I believe this is the end of this post.
Well there you have both an anecdote and a musing, but is it at all amusing?
Saturday, February 20, 2010
A Tale of Pride and Punishment
.
I went to the Safeway yesterday, to buy some laundry soap. As I neared the check out stand, with soap in hand I saw that a set of self serve check out stations had been installed since my last visit. Though the express lane adjacent to the self serve stations was without a line, I stepped boldly and confidently and I might say even a little smugly past a customer who was getting help from a young Safeway employee to the self serve station beyond. I after all, had done this before, at the Home Depot. You already know the outcome of course. Of the two possible outcomes, success or failure, only one would make a story.
I can’t remember with any precision the individual steps of this particular humiliation. I believe it was at about the fourth screen that the first expletive slipped softly from my lips. I think that was what brought the young lady to my side, she with her lightening fingers, her ever so patient voice and her magic all-purpose plastic card that swipes away the work of the uninitiated and incompetent. I know she was with me for about twice the time it would have taken her to ring up my soap at a check stand. I know there was reversal of the charge for the second, phantom, bottle of detergent that I had somehow recorded. I know she left me with the words, “There, now just blah, blah, blah.” I know the last screen, the one that I turned my back on to make my way to the still empty express lane, said “Continue your transaction at the pin pad.” It wasn’t that I didn't know what a pin pad is, or couldn’t find it. I think I had that. It was that I had no idea whatsoever what I might do in order to continue. I find that in order to continue at a pin pad it is necessary to have at least some vague idea what to do in order to continue.
I went to the Safeway yesterday, to buy some laundry soap. As I neared the check out stand, with soap in hand I saw that a set of self serve check out stations had been installed since my last visit. Though the express lane adjacent to the self serve stations was without a line, I stepped boldly and confidently and I might say even a little smugly past a customer who was getting help from a young Safeway employee to the self serve station beyond. I after all, had done this before, at the Home Depot. You already know the outcome of course. Of the two possible outcomes, success or failure, only one would make a story.
I can’t remember with any precision the individual steps of this particular humiliation. I believe it was at about the fourth screen that the first expletive slipped softly from my lips. I think that was what brought the young lady to my side, she with her lightening fingers, her ever so patient voice and her magic all-purpose plastic card that swipes away the work of the uninitiated and incompetent. I know she was with me for about twice the time it would have taken her to ring up my soap at a check stand. I know there was reversal of the charge for the second, phantom, bottle of detergent that I had somehow recorded. I know she left me with the words, “There, now just blah, blah, blah.” I know the last screen, the one that I turned my back on to make my way to the still empty express lane, said “Continue your transaction at the pin pad.” It wasn’t that I didn't know what a pin pad is, or couldn’t find it. I think I had that. It was that I had no idea whatsoever what I might do in order to continue. I find that in order to continue at a pin pad it is necessary to have at least some vague idea what to do in order to continue.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Dental Floss
.
This morning, when I had finished using it, I measured the length of my dental floss. It was twenty and a half inches. According to the label there are 43.7 yards (40 meters) on the spool. I floss nearly every day, probably 360 times a year. That would take 7,380 inches of floss or 4.7 spools. My father lived to be 96. If I do the same, (Strangely I find that I’ve come to assume I will.) that would be another 24.75 years, or measured in spools of dental floss, 116.3. My life expectancy measured in feet of dental floss is about 15,221¼ . Of course if I live to be 96 I may not floss on the day I die. Why would anyone floss during the last month of life? The whole point of dental hygiene, the brushing, the flossing, the going to the dentist, is to not out live your teeth. I think a person could safely quit flossing at least 2 years before dying.
My current floss is described on its container with 6 words. Isn’t that remarkable? Here they are: Crest, Glide, Deep, Clean, Cool, and Mint. So, two names, two adjectives and some kind of compound grammatical error. I guess what was meant was “deep cleaning”.
I once thought it might be interesting to compose a list of the most boring things I do. The first item on my list was flossing. On a recent visit to my optometrist I was instructed in a certain ritual cleaning of my eye lashes to be carried out each morning. Fat chance I’m going to start that.
This morning, when I had finished using it, I measured the length of my dental floss. It was twenty and a half inches. According to the label there are 43.7 yards (40 meters) on the spool. I floss nearly every day, probably 360 times a year. That would take 7,380 inches of floss or 4.7 spools. My father lived to be 96. If I do the same, (Strangely I find that I’ve come to assume I will.) that would be another 24.75 years, or measured in spools of dental floss, 116.3. My life expectancy measured in feet of dental floss is about 15,221¼ . Of course if I live to be 96 I may not floss on the day I die. Why would anyone floss during the last month of life? The whole point of dental hygiene, the brushing, the flossing, the going to the dentist, is to not out live your teeth. I think a person could safely quit flossing at least 2 years before dying.
My current floss is described on its container with 6 words. Isn’t that remarkable? Here they are: Crest, Glide, Deep, Clean, Cool, and Mint. So, two names, two adjectives and some kind of compound grammatical error. I guess what was meant was “deep cleaning”.
I once thought it might be interesting to compose a list of the most boring things I do. The first item on my list was flossing. On a recent visit to my optometrist I was instructed in a certain ritual cleaning of my eye lashes to be carried out each morning. Fat chance I’m going to start that.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Fear
.
I doubt if there is any human emotion more elemental than fear. Others may be its equal, but none surpass it in defining what we are. Fear of physical harm, fear of loss, fear of shame compel us, often in unflattering directions. Much of our most craven, least humane behavior results from some sort of fear. I can’t recall Timothy McVeigh’s motives, but the Alabama Sunday School bombers were surely afraid of the coming end of their way of life. Fear can strip from us the veneer of civilized life that we wear so comfortably and thoughtlessly in ordinary circumstances.
The survival value of fear is easy to see. I’m not sure if fish have fear or just swim about oblivious to danger, right up to the moment when they meet their end, but surely it was not too long after the creatures that were to become mammals crawled out of the sea, that something like fear began to evolve. Those creatures who had some of it did better than those without it, and that’s why we have it now. I wonder though if the creatures at the top of the food chain today know fear. Is a grizzly ever frightened or do they just go where they want and do what they want without a second thought? Humans, who might be thought of as being at the top of the food chain, (though not by me) of course have fear of their own kind. I don’t think male grizzlies do that. I think maybe a male grizzly just does not know what fear is.
Perhaps the most striking part of a visit to the Galapagos Islands is to walk among wild animals that have no fear of humans. It's really stunning to have one’s presence go rather unnoticed by all manner of bird, reptile and seal. Of course these same creatures may fear something else. The remarkable experience is for the human who is accustomed to being feared to suddenly not inspire fear.
There are those of us who at times appear virtually fearless. Perhaps it is not that the sky diver is fearless, but that he or she does not allow the fear they feel to dominate their actions. Or perhaps some have such confidence in the engineering and physics of the situation that they have no more adrenaline rush than others have when they get into a car.
And finally we come to the politically motivated suicide. What is the fear quotient of a person who is walking around with a load of high explosives taped to his torso? Is this person fearless, or simply in control of his fear? I surely don’t know, but I have a hunch that that Nigerian son of a banker, had something going on that was a lot like FEAR. He sat for hours and hours with explosives strapped to his body. What was he thinking about all that time? We are not programmed to seek death. We are the opposite. After he went to the bathroom and had the greatest bowel movement of his life, what did he do? He was there in that private space with whatever time he needed to insure that all was well with his bomb. In fact he could have detonated it to equal effect right there. I suspect that it was not the bomb that failed, but the bomber and that the failure was due to fear.
I doubt if there is any human emotion more elemental than fear. Others may be its equal, but none surpass it in defining what we are. Fear of physical harm, fear of loss, fear of shame compel us, often in unflattering directions. Much of our most craven, least humane behavior results from some sort of fear. I can’t recall Timothy McVeigh’s motives, but the Alabama Sunday School bombers were surely afraid of the coming end of their way of life. Fear can strip from us the veneer of civilized life that we wear so comfortably and thoughtlessly in ordinary circumstances.
The survival value of fear is easy to see. I’m not sure if fish have fear or just swim about oblivious to danger, right up to the moment when they meet their end, but surely it was not too long after the creatures that were to become mammals crawled out of the sea, that something like fear began to evolve. Those creatures who had some of it did better than those without it, and that’s why we have it now. I wonder though if the creatures at the top of the food chain today know fear. Is a grizzly ever frightened or do they just go where they want and do what they want without a second thought? Humans, who might be thought of as being at the top of the food chain, (though not by me) of course have fear of their own kind. I don’t think male grizzlies do that. I think maybe a male grizzly just does not know what fear is.
Perhaps the most striking part of a visit to the Galapagos Islands is to walk among wild animals that have no fear of humans. It's really stunning to have one’s presence go rather unnoticed by all manner of bird, reptile and seal. Of course these same creatures may fear something else. The remarkable experience is for the human who is accustomed to being feared to suddenly not inspire fear.
There are those of us who at times appear virtually fearless. Perhaps it is not that the sky diver is fearless, but that he or she does not allow the fear they feel to dominate their actions. Or perhaps some have such confidence in the engineering and physics of the situation that they have no more adrenaline rush than others have when they get into a car.
And finally we come to the politically motivated suicide. What is the fear quotient of a person who is walking around with a load of high explosives taped to his torso? Is this person fearless, or simply in control of his fear? I surely don’t know, but I have a hunch that that Nigerian son of a banker, had something going on that was a lot like FEAR. He sat for hours and hours with explosives strapped to his body. What was he thinking about all that time? We are not programmed to seek death. We are the opposite. After he went to the bathroom and had the greatest bowel movement of his life, what did he do? He was there in that private space with whatever time he needed to insure that all was well with his bomb. In fact he could have detonated it to equal effect right there. I suspect that it was not the bomb that failed, but the bomber and that the failure was due to fear.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Annual Report 2009
.
What follows is the text of our annual letter minus certain personal remarks that embellished most of the individual transmittals.
On February 27 Meredith gave birth to Theodore Christopher Reinhart. This certainly swamps all other events of the year. He’s a big boy; currently 95th percentile in height and 75th in weight. He and his mom and dad have been with us for the past 5 days and he’s doing fine, crawling all about, pulling to stand, making faces and guttural noises. He’s generally very jolly except when it comes to sleeping. Somehow in a complete reversal of his genetic make up, he is not such a great sleeper. He’s been sleeping in our bedroom while here in order to give his folks a few full nights of rest. Now we are ready for the same. Meredith has surprised herself and others with a previously unrevealed gift for child care.
The family continues to live a bit in limbo in Arlington VA. They would prefer to be in the Northwest, but both have good employment in the East and this is probably not the time to be walking out on a good job.
Our darling Phoenix (son of Nat) continues to inspire in us all the love a grandparent could possibly feel. We get to see him at least weekly and often more. He loves to laugh and when he does his flashing eyes and dimpled smile light up the room and our hearts. Through the first four years of his life he was virtually never naughty and he certainly never felt the sting of a hand on his backside, (unlike his father). But about a month ago he learned that naughty can be fun. He has been employing this new found wisdom with some regularity for a few weeks, and presenting his paternal grandfather with some philosophical problems.
The poultry population around here is up to 5 chickens and now, due to some caring friends, 2 ducks. As predicted by Meredith several years ago, none has yet called Beth grandma and until they do they continue to live outside. FYI chickens appear to be substantially smarter than ducks. Roosters are not allowed in the city, but one of the ducks is a drake and he and his partner were at it this morning on the pond. Could there be ducklings in the spring?
We are personally in good health and comfortable in all important ways although age continues to nibble away at us and we are aware of the fact. In fact it is in my mind just about all the time. Any substantive thought that may have occurred to me this year is buried within the drivel of this blog. http://www.anecdotesandmusings.blogspot.com
We send our best wishes for the new year to you and yours.
Paul and Beth
What follows is the text of our annual letter minus certain personal remarks that embellished most of the individual transmittals.
On February 27 Meredith gave birth to Theodore Christopher Reinhart. This certainly swamps all other events of the year. He’s a big boy; currently 95th percentile in height and 75th in weight. He and his mom and dad have been with us for the past 5 days and he’s doing fine, crawling all about, pulling to stand, making faces and guttural noises. He’s generally very jolly except when it comes to sleeping. Somehow in a complete reversal of his genetic make up, he is not such a great sleeper. He’s been sleeping in our bedroom while here in order to give his folks a few full nights of rest. Now we are ready for the same. Meredith has surprised herself and others with a previously unrevealed gift for child care.
The family continues to live a bit in limbo in Arlington VA. They would prefer to be in the Northwest, but both have good employment in the East and this is probably not the time to be walking out on a good job.
Our darling Phoenix (son of Nat) continues to inspire in us all the love a grandparent could possibly feel. We get to see him at least weekly and often more. He loves to laugh and when he does his flashing eyes and dimpled smile light up the room and our hearts. Through the first four years of his life he was virtually never naughty and he certainly never felt the sting of a hand on his backside, (unlike his father). But about a month ago he learned that naughty can be fun. He has been employing this new found wisdom with some regularity for a few weeks, and presenting his paternal grandfather with some philosophical problems.
The poultry population around here is up to 5 chickens and now, due to some caring friends, 2 ducks. As predicted by Meredith several years ago, none has yet called Beth grandma and until they do they continue to live outside. FYI chickens appear to be substantially smarter than ducks. Roosters are not allowed in the city, but one of the ducks is a drake and he and his partner were at it this morning on the pond. Could there be ducklings in the spring?
We are personally in good health and comfortable in all important ways although age continues to nibble away at us and we are aware of the fact. In fact it is in my mind just about all the time. Any substantive thought that may have occurred to me this year is buried within the drivel of this blog. http://www.anecdotesandmusings.blogspot.com
We send our best wishes for the new year to you and yours.
Paul and Beth
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Thanksgiving Day
In this land of plenty, where almost everyone gets all they need to eat and a great many get a great deal more than they need to eat, wouldn't it make sense to count our blessings with a day of fasting rather than one more day of gluttony?
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