Outskirts of Hell

Tuesday we cruised to Eldridge Park. It's a good place to lead a dog on leash.

We walked the bicycle path that issues east from the park proper. The bike path looked lovely at first, but we decided to hang a left onto a dirt road.

Uh, oh. Mistake.

First clue: piles of abandoned construction materials.
Second clue: stagnant, dirty runoff ditches.

It was a long, depressing trudge through muck and trash.

Even in Hell there was beauty enough. Tangled vines and branches hid wildlife, and dirty water came alive with muskrats.

Ellie was busy smelling everything, and we both got plenty of exercise.

But honestly, I felt as if I’d escaped Purgatory by the time we were safely back at Eldridge.

We lost the leash along the path, but no way would we return for it.

Josephine Begins Anew

So marital bliss wasn't quite.

Quite what, she still doesn't know. Only thing she does know is that she can't face the others after being played for a fool.

No matter.

There's a whole Planet out there for consolation and a Road Trip for amusement.

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Little Pond

I dyed yesterday.

Update: The black, done with RIT dye, was wonderful, five pieces colored to perfection. The indigo, done with some stupid stuff from Spain, was not the right blue for denim today, was really thick on the first item, blotchy on the second and nonexistent on the third. The second item will need to be redyed with a liquid dye. I give up on the third, no big deal. Guys, I recommend that only RIT (or maybe some other American dye) be used. Quality control is apparently lacking elsewhere.

And I will dye again today.

Yup. Dye. As in cloth. Not hair: too allergic.

But yesterday I had a successful stint with deep black for my husband's work jeans, a silk camisole and my "dragon lady" undershirt.

Today it's indigo, as in denim. A straight-leg pair of men's cut, my everyday work
"uniform," and his "lookin' good" jeans.

Total spent: less than $10.00 for all the dye. A few hours work over a hot stove, followed by gentle, warmwater laundering and cold rinse. Usually extends the life of my things a year or more. We'll see how long it affects his.

Good work for a rainy day, too.

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Little Pond

New post to RiverDogging

This new post is simply a set of photos recording some work done on the Chemung River to upgrade sewer pipes.

Turns out they may be the only ones available.

I was asked to retrieve them for a local government agency.

But I have some pretty ones coming soon, I promise.

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Little Pond

The Layoff Denouement

Not only are we not laid off, but we can expect a raise!

New policy dictates that the positions be posted, and we must vie for them, but we've personally defined them over the last decade. In fact, our counterparts at the other papers mostly come from our department right here!

Of course, a promise of a raise, coming from some sort of district manager, means little until it shows up in a paycheck. But there is hope of more help. Before, we were expecting layoffs, until we lost three people, all of whom jumped in the face of layoffs.

Losing the jumpers left us in position to hire, but that would have been for Advertising Graphics, not for us Paginators (soon to become Production Service Specialists). We had been "granted" a part-time person, but his loyalties were to the AG side.

When they learned that I was working 7.5 hours overtime to fill in the weekends, everything changed. (Never mind that my immediate boss has been essentially donating his time and gasoline to work the other weekend night!)

The district manager was very surprised to hear it, and suggested we needed another full-timer. That means that whoever works the weekends will be receiving the commensurate night-time differential, i.e., raise. The AG people are now scrambling to see if they can cash in, only without working the weekends.

Fortunately, we have been assured that we get will get a weekend-specific worker. It's a wonderful entry-level position that essentially comprises less than a half-day's work, and the rest of the time just facilitating page flow.

Good thing the manager understands that. It will be nice to have more help around here.

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Little Pond

Ready for a Road Trip?

There's just no Calming the Angry Planet.

Vincent and Josey cut short the honeymoon.

Right about now, she's thinking, "Maybe it's me..."

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Little Pond

New Brakes

Lesson of the week in Little Pond: Brakes are good. Almost no brakes, bad.

Because I had guests coming to town over the weekend, I scheduled the repair for Monday.

Wrong move. Not only did I not have a car to use for my guests, but I also drove around on pins and needles, waiting for the darned things to fail.

My guests had to provide the transportation, and my nerves were shot by Sunday night. I can feel my neck tightening even as I type.

After diagnostics and a new brake line to the back drums, I had the pleasure of speaking with the mechanic on the Yellow Team (Don't you have a team color? Oh, you must get one...) who discussed how they felt to him. We compared notes and chatted a while, and I left feeling a little smarter and completely relieved.

And about $250.00 lighter. Geos are cheap to run, but expensive to repair in these parts.

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Little Pond

Ellie may not be the whole story,

But she's the long,











and short of it...



Sorry. Couldn't resist.

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Little Pond

M my name is Mary

Middle name, that is. Been tagged by Granny J of Walking Prescott.

"...list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your middle name. If you don't have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have. At the end of your blog post you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag."

Wouldn't I love to pick a different middle name? Can anyone guess what it would be? But let's use my real one: Mary.

Manly

I've often thought I should have been born a male. Growing up, I was held to many of the same standards as my five brothers. Someone asked me recently why I don't cry. That's why.

Besides, there're always antidepressants to take up the slack.

Action-oriented

Can't stand to just sit around. I have to be making things, fixing things, or planning things.

riter

Well, wRiter, anyway. May not yet be a good one, but I sure am prolific.

Yin/Yang

Yin and Yang. Somewhat of a dualist. Especially with people, I've learned to look for the flip side of just about anything. Life just seems to be like that.

Ahh, Granny J, while you're welcome to tag me, I decline to pass it on.

Readers (hope you're plural...) you are welcome to grab the baton yourself.

Nibelheim in the Mists

When the clouds rise from the Chemung River and meet the hills, it's time to haul the HuggaMutt to the strand where we can look for photos appropriate to early September.

It's cool and quiet. We find a few fishermen, human and otherwise, and some fellow dog walkers. This shot is going into my fantasy-romance when I post this weekend. Nibelheim is the town where all the action is currently based. It shouldn't be any surprise that most of my inspiration for the setting comes from the Southern Tier of Upstate New York, USA.

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Little Pond

I had a dream last night. Oh boy.

Ever have one of these?

I dreamed it Monday Night. It was vivid and depressing.

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Little Pond

What I remember most.

9/11/01 was further punctuated at the Star Gazette by a series of phone calls alerting us to the coincidental death of a coworker. Carolyn was returning from Atlantic City when she was overcome by asthma.

We could have used her that awful day; she would have shared the burden of the Extra Edition. The younger workers were in too much shock to work. They whined and cried, and generally were useless. Who could blame them?

For years, not a day would go by when we didn't miss Carolyn. Lately, it's more like weeks, but we still miss her terribly. New employees work even less. I don't know if it's an age thing, or something more insidious, like culture.

When you lose an Old School workchum, things are never the same. Last night, my boss raised the question of whether or not we are victims of ageism. Left to work nights, the toughest shift of all, while the younger folk pass the day (I wouldn't much call it working) carrying less than half the load. You see, it's easier to let things slide when not on deadline. It's easy to go home, leaving unsolved problems, when the central office isn't yet demanding an immediate solution.

We would find the solutions: Carolyn, GF, and me. We were once called the ATeam. I remember. But memories don't count for anything today. They are just sad.

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Little Pond

Note to self:

Open my blog-BIL's site first on Fridays.

I play the podcast in popup. When I can't take the time in the morning, then I open it at work, with earbuds...

My favorite was the tribute to The King.


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Little Poond

I am sick to death of the whole Iraq thing,

but that has never changed my opinion of our need to be there. Husband RJ constantly tells me that IRAQ is keeping us from being prepared for other places.

Bullcrap! I say.

So let's just pull out and prepare for the next one? The height of idiocy! There will be no next one: we are in the next one, with all others radiating from the same.

Look, we removed the stability of Saddam? Oh, I agree wholeheartedly, but his kind of stability was not better than the current slaughter. We were just able to overlook it soooo much easier. With all the sanctimonious "Tsk, tsk" we could muster over his victims.

While there are times I'm ready to let the Islamicists have all the people who refuse to fight them, there is never any doubt in my mind we will (absolutely will!) be next.

That's why I signed the petition for us to properly wage this (not THAT) war in Iraq.

Read it. You should sign it, too.

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Little Pond

Not an Eagle

For some weeks I have been trying to get a shot of what looked like a pair of Golden Eagles over the Chemung River, right in the city.

Not likely. This morning I saw the large wingspan, golden brown and white banded, mottled or checkered (whatever) wings of this bird.

Couldn't for the life of me identify it, so I figured that once again I've spotted some immature hawk.

Still looking for that pair of ospreys or eagles or whatever, though.

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Little Pond