Wouldn't you know it? Here I was all rested and ready to tackle a new work week, but as soon as I backed out of the garage, and cracked the window open, I heard the muffled flapping sound of death. Sure enough, I had a flat tire. Must have been something I drove over on Friday, because I didn't even run any errands over the weekend.

Tried calling the Shell in Summit; they were open, but I just got the answering machine. Called DeFalco in Chatham next, and got their dispatcher. She at least thought to ask what kind of car I drive. Said someone would be over within 45 minutes, but it's been well over an hour by now. They're only half a mile up the road from me. Hopefully, I didn't get a nail through the sidewall. That happened once before, and these Michelins go for ~$325 each. That's what I get for having a car that can go 150 mph.

The worst part is that it looks really suspicious to my employer that this would happen on a Monday. "Excuses, excuses . . . we know you just wanted the day off." Steve's away on business, otherwise he could have given me a ride to the train station.

At least I have full office connectivity from home. Logged onto my office computer from here to send out the email from my office account, explaining the situation. Already got hold of Gary, my assistant, via IM this morning. He raced cars in college--still does--and had a part-time job at one point, repairing tires, among other grease monkey tasks. Oddly enough, he blew out his own car's engine Thursday night on the Belt Parkway. I don't know much about Long Island, but apparently, that particular highway has no place whatsoever to pull over, so he had to limp all the way home to Queens with his engine smoking. Poor kid. Now that's going to be an expensive repair!

Image borrowed from PacioneTracker

Horrid Writer has been on the warpath again, making baseless accusations against a number of members of the Horror Writer's Association. This time around, he accused Angeline Hawkes, her husband Chris Fulbright, Brian Keene, and Mary Sangiovanni of e-pirating his fiction, thus ruining his book sales. These people have all been quite nice to me at one time or another, and I have the utmost respect for them both as writers, and as people. Frankly, I don't think they give a rat's patoot about Horrid Writer, and anything he writes. Mary actually graduated from the university from which I got my Master's degree--and she's the biggest sweetie.

They are all real writers, who can outsell his aggregate sales from the past 14 years with a single novel. No doubt being permanently banned from the HWA recently has something to do with his ire, yet he dredges up old grievances. His second most recent rant brought up a comment that someone left him over a year ago suggesting that he needed to work on his writing and get an editor. Hoo boy, did that piss off the Horrid Writer! It was perfectly true, but truth is beside the point with this particular guy.

I was introduced to a story of his called Insect about a year and a half ago. I thought it was poorly written, and said as much. Among my complaints with all of his writing are:

• Incorrect spelling (such as a favorite he misuses in more than one story--"dosing off" instead of "dozing off.") He obviously doesn't think the spelling is incorrect, since he won't correct it, even after it's been pointed out to him.

• He slaughters all rules of English grammar, changing tenses repeatedly within the same sentence.

• Poor sentence construction that's convoluted to the point of being extremely difficult to read.

• Pretentiously worded sentences, as if he were incorporating new vocabulary words he just learned. It's a distraction, and the convoluted descriptions add nothing to the story.

Here's a sample of the Horrid Writer's work, called Sober.

Horrid Writer is self-published at Lulu.com. It's not even a publisher; it's merely a POD vanity printer. If I wanted to throw together a book of family photos, and design a cover for it, Lulu.com would print it, if anyone ordered it. Horrid Writer doesn't even spring for an ISBN. POD isn't necessarily a bad option for a writer just getting started, but Lulu.com isn't the way to go to be taken seriously.

He's been writing for 14 years, yet he can't get a real publisher to take on his work. LiveJournal doesn't consider him a real writer, because he self publishes. His usual m.o. is to write a short story or two, then solicit contest entries from unsuspecting college students who know nothing about publishing. He charges a fee to even read their stories, then selects a few for publication in an anthology. Since the anthologies don't sell, he can't even afford to pay his writers for their work. When the contributors don't get paid, they refuse to work with him again, so he goes off to recruit more unsuspecting college students for his next anthology.

He badly needs an editor. Of course, he ignores all the red and green squigglies in MS Word--and my god, his stuff must look like a Christmas tree unless he's disabled the default spelling and grammar feature.

Here's a review of Sober from Carolyn8 at FictionPress:

"did you...take down my review? you know, i think you did! so...i'm the 'lesbo whore' (once again, btw, i'm not a lesbian), and you're the one taking down perfectly legitimate reviews to your work...right then. glad we got that straightened out. so i'll post it here again, as people have every right to know what i think of your work and the side of yourself you choose to present to fp.n. you shouldn't be here if you can't take some well-deserved criticism. can't take the heat, get out of the goddamned kitchen. so here it is again:

"okay, first i need to say this:you. CANNOT. write. effectively.

i'm sorry, would you mind explaining to me what the HELL the first sentence was intended to be?! i'll perhaps read the rest after i can wade through the mess of...whatever the hell you call that crap. un-fucking-believable. and yes, i swear. deal. i'll try to read some of your other stuff...though i just read 'the fanfic writer' (never been more insulted in my life, btw) and absolutely could not stand the writing. you need a beta-reader rather badly. better yet, you need to learn how to write.

ok...now to comment on your bio. my general impression is this: GOOD GOD, MAN! where/who/what the hell do you think you are?? fp.n is NOT a place where people come to brag, it is not a place to talk endlessly about yourself, it is not a place to insult others as if you are better than them...let me assure you, you're not. i mean, my god, a PICTURE of yourself!! you're probably (read: hopefully) the only one to EVER have sunk that low! and a bio is NOT MEANT TO BE SO GODDAMNED LONG!! you should not be here to brag about what you've been paid for or which clubs you have undeserving memberships of. nobody gives a shit. you say you've been compared to all those writers...again, who gives?? you're only displaying your overblown ego here. and i didn't know there were so many OTHER published writers who sucked so badly! they'd have to, if they were like you...

oh god...i just visited your website. i can't believe you've been writing for over 14 years...and you're still writing like a 5-year-old. are you one of those people that thinks they're smart, simply because they have large vocabularies? big fucking deal. so you can parrot, except for the fact that you have no sense of grammar. and your site is unbelievably poorly formatted. i could do a better job, and i barely know how a computer works.

you also need an ego deflation. i'll perform it now, for free, considering the desperate need. so you write...so fucking what? guess what...SO DO I!! and i'm fifteen years old, and i'm part of a writing group of other 14-to-16-year-olds, and WE ALL WRITE BETTER THAN YOU DO! so does the majority of the child-and-teenage population! tolerance can do a great deal to improve someone's writing, you know. you should try it. the punctuation errors...GODS, THE PUNCTUATION ERRORS!! SAVE ME!

i must, however, thank you from the bottom of my heart, for you have never (at least, not that i saw) referred to what you do as 'art'. thank you ever so much for proving that there is sanity left in the world.

so with that said, i am off to r&r your other works, if i can bear it! funfun! note the sarcasm...i shall be sure to add you to my author alerts and favourite authors, as well as emailing your link to all my friends, and we shall dance and laugh and flame, and you shall burn in your own personal, self-constructed hell!

with as much love as you deserve,she-who-is-half-your-age-and-has-infinitely-more-talent

p.s. please feel free to email me with any comments at all, there's plenty more ranting to be done...i just can't remember it all right now, as the insipid drivel you insist on referring to as 'literature' has seeped into my brain and is slowly corroding it from the inside. you know, you really have a 'knack' for first sentences of a piece! they leave an impression, alright...who the hell uses the word 'vast' TWICE in the same sentence?"

and there is my review. no need to thank me, just doing my job. and i'll KEEP doing it as long as you see fit to take it down. i worked hard on that review, and i do NOT take kindly to being snubbed in such a manner.

but hey, at least i got a chance to fix my spelling mistakes!

ta!"

Amen, Carolyn. Horrid Writer has a history of deleting any reviews of his work that don't fawn all over him. He also has a history of harrassing people who leave negative comments. So that you have an idea, based solely on my remarks about Insect, which I made on my own Xanga blog in May 2005, he's told me to:

• get "nut cancer"

• drink bleach

• get hit by a car

• die "you cunt"

Every once in awhile, he tries on a new phrase for size, and uses it like a verbal nervous tic. Lately, he's been accusing people of being unprofessional when they suggest he get an editor. He got kicked out of the HWA permanently for going on a rampage on its forum, dissing a number of well respected authors in his blind jealous rage. Pot, may I introduce Kettle? Kettle--Pot.

If anyone's being unprofessional, it's Horrid Writer, not any member of the HWA. How professional is to call people cunts, and hope they get nut cancer? How many hermaphrodites are there, anyway? This guy would have you believe that all his detractors are either gay, lesbian, bi, trannies, or hermaphrodites. Please. He obviously has issues with his own sexuality. Grow up, Horrid. Dropping out of two year community college doesn't make you brilliant. And you've got to be the only person out there who brags about his 79 IQ as if it were the equivalent of a B- or C+. Unless it's well over 100, it's probably best not made known.

I just wanted to extend a welcome to Peaches from The Peach Pit. I've been a lurker on her blog for a few months now, but perhaps only commented once before this week. Peaches writes one of the more interesting blogs I peruse--with the added bonus that she updates it often.

Lately, I've been going through my links on this blog and updating them. Peaches has been linked for some time, although I don't think she knew it. But a number of my old faves seem to have dropped off the face of the earth, either too bored or too busy to post an entry for 4+ months.

I've cut out a few old links, but need to add other links that I've just had "bookmarked." Since this is my personal blog, not a political one, I won't bother with links to Captain's Quarters, LGF, Powerline, etc., but there are some interesting personal blogs out there run by people who aren't bleeding heart liberals.

Thanks for the mutual link, Peaches! I've already gotten a referral hit from your blog.

NJMVC Rocks

It used to be called NJDMV. In the old days, the lines and paperwork were absurd, and the employees surly. The last time I had to visit in person was 15 years ago. It took nearly four hours--for a title transfer. Today was for a driver's license renewal, after the state law changed to require digital photo licenses. My previous four-year analog non-photo license renewal was grandfathered because I renewed mere months before the state law was changed.

I was in and out of the joint two towns and two counties away within half an hour. Round-trip, it took about an hour, but that includes the 15 minute drive each way. You could knock me over with a (choose your colorful phrase).

How many times have you ever said "Wow, you're efficient! Thank you so much. Have a nice afternoon." to a DMV employee? In NJ, it never used to happen. "The times, they are a changin'," to quote Bob Dylan.

I'm very impressed.

From an article in the L.A Times:

"With less than three weeks before an election that will decide control of Congress, the Democrats are within tantalizing reach of a House win that would almost certainly make Pelosi the first female speaker of the House — second in line to the presidency — and the first from California."

Whoop de freakin' do.

"Yet Pelosi is not necessarily the public face most Democrats would have chosen to represent a party struggling to look strong in these unsettled times — a 66-year-old liberal congresswoman from war-protesting San Francisco who looks too demure to stand up for national security and isn't great on TV."

Gee, ya think?

"Look, if I weren't effective, I don't think they would try to take me down. You're in the arena, you're in the ring. That's what happens," Pelosi says on the way to another fundraiser as she crisscrosses the country, her cellphone affixed to her ear in the car, at breakfast and in the beauty salon, where she recently dropped it into a pedicure bowl.

What in the eff are you doing getting a pedicure if you're so busy? Nobody's going to see your toes anyway, honey, unless you wear flip-flops or Birkenstocks. Can't you get someone to trowel on your makeup a little better instead? You know--to shave off five years, so you actually look 66.

"While the children were small, Pelosi served as California state party chair and learned the art of raising money. People would ask how she managed to do so much with so many kids. "I told them I couldn't have done it without the children," Pelosi says now.

Each one had a job addressing envelopes, stuffing, sealing and stamping. Their hard work at the Democratic Party office earned them a bowl of French onion soup across the street at the old Liberty House department store in San Francisco. Not to mention occasional recognition at church, where they belted out: "He's got the stuffers and the sealers, in his hands … "

Slave labor, eh? "You lick and stick, then go across the street to cadge dinner, 'cause I ain't gonna make you any."

Here's a little commentary on the dynamics of e-piracy. An editor whom I generally respect at WCP posted a couple of blog entries in a row about how e-piracy hurts writers who only e-publish their works. I do sympathize with people who lose revenue over such issues, yet her argument is so over the top that it really holds no water, and in fact makes her argument a joke.

The example she cited was 100 people buy the e-book legally, then email it to 100 others, and those 10,000 each mail it to another 100, etc. I'm sorry, but there is no exponential expansion at work in e-piracy. She knows it, as do the other editors there. It's patently absurd. No statistical frequency distribution based on real-ife observations will bear our her basic assumption--possion, binomial, or otherwise. I commented as much, as a person who makes a living doing math. I think the editor knows it, because she didn't refute my comments other than to say twenty people claimed to have read one copy legally sold. Hardly an exponential expansion, even if they have read it, which I doubt.

But her editorial director tried to shred my logic with emotional claims, and back it up with a little math. The latter's argument ran along the lines of: say one person passes it along to 10 others, then one of them passes it along to 10 others, etc. She got really whiny about it. Lady's got a stick up her butt. Stick-butt lady was trying to take the tactic: forget about the numbers, bitch--it's the concept here.

Sorry, but that won't wash, either. Even that scenario is unrealistic. Statistically speaking, the average reader won't pass it along at all, and the one who does won't pass it along to 10 others either--perhaps one or two.

Thus even if one legal copy initially becomes 10, then 10 become 12, and eventually 13. If the initial copy becomes three, then it peters out even faster. Stick-butt lady's numbers don't add up any better than the editor's who made the complaint.

Don't try to tell me that all copies sold are automatically e-pirated, then back down and say some are, but it's all about lost revenue, if you can't back up the lost revenue claims with time-series facts about those theoretical lost revenues. Until you can, you might as well count sheep as dollars.

I don't buy the bit about 20 people claiming to have read the one copy she sold, either. Claimed readership isn't readership. Go ask them some questions about content, and see if they can answer the questions correctly. I'll bet they can't.

None of this is to denigrate the author's skill, nor to imply that e-piracy doesn't hurt authors who are just trying to make a buck. Yet, if e-piracy really was as rampant as originally implied by the exponential expansion example cited, my advice would be to go to print with it. Some publishing house is bound to pick it up, at least for a paperback, if that many pirated copies can be documented. Obviously, that means the audience is there.

Carole Lombard You scored 21% grit, 14% wit, 42% flair, and 35% class!

You're a little bit of a fruitcake, but you always act out in style. You have a good sense of humor, are game for almost anything, but you like to have nice things about you and are attracted to the high life. You're stylish and modern, but you've got a few rough edges that keep you from attaining true sophistication. Your leading men include William Powell, Fredric March, and Clark Gable. Watch out for small planes. Find out what kind of classic leading man you'd make by taking the Classic Leading Man Test.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 99% on grit You scored higher than 99% on wit You scored higher than 99% on flair You scored higher than 99% on class

Link: The Classic Dames Test written by gidgetgoes on OkCupid, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Hahahaha! I got word this morning from a fellow Xangan in a mutual blogring that the evil horrible horror author got permanently booted from the Horror Writer's Association yesterday. One member of the HWA dropped me a comment to the effect, which was later confirmed by my editor, who is also a member.

For those of you not in the loop, Google "Pacione Insect" and try reading it--it's typical. His writing is horrible (grammar, misspellings, typos, and numerous tense changes within a single sentence, to name a few), his megalomania knows no bounds, and he thinks it's perfectly acceptable to threaten people's lives via phone and email if they don't worship his genius. Never mind that the life-threatening part is a federal offense, since it crosses state lines. He has personally sent me death threats. I'm far from the only one to receive them from this jerk.

I'm not a member of HWA. My Amish murder story will not be published for real, so I won't become a member within the next few months. The upside is that my editor has asked me for another story, with the theme of poison. My undergrad chemical engineering training could come in useful for that theme, so I'm up for it.

No deadline as of yet, since publication date would be at least a year away. So, I spent some spare time last night tossing together a short scene featuring a fictional horror writer battling writer's block. It was mostly an exercise in developing my dialogue skills, but it is rather humorous. You can read it here, but be forewarned: it contains some sexual innuendo.

This picture is extremely typical of Ukraine. It's a decorated egg that Steve brought back for me. Actually, he brought three back, but I got first pick. As if you couldn't tell, I like blue, so I snagged the one that had the most blue on it. Ukraine's national colors are a sort of dark pastel blue and bright red, both of which are evident on the egg. It's a pretty little knick-knack to have around the house.

The next picture is Lockhartia imbricata, a species orchid I bought a few years ago from Orquideas del Valle, based in Cali, Colombia. The outfit was in NYC for the annual GNYOS (Greater New York Orchid Society) show at Rockefeller Center. It's bloomed for me before. That's what the straw-like stuff above the current flower and two buds is; I just never bothered to pick off the dead remains. The flower itself is a little over 0.25" top to bottom. It's a cute little thing, and not at all picky about growing conditions, as far as orchids go.

Rub a dub dub . . .! SJ is back from Ukraine. We needed to run a few errands today. With my usual efficiency, I planned my route well. First stop was the gas station, for $2.19 a gallon. After that, it was the butcher. Yes, we have a USDA certified meatpacker in town. It's basically a butcher that sells a lot of wholesale to restaurants, but also sells to the public. It's on a dead-end on the outskirts of town, near the horse farms. It's essentially a barn with a front room that has a counter.

We also took some sourdough starter out of the fridge, and set a batch to bubble away to bake this evening. Butcher and baker--covered, in a manner of speaking. No candlestick maker, but there's no shortage of candles here.

Then we hit the grocery store on the way back for a few bags of things. Now that SJ signed us up for courtesy cards, I wrote a check. The cards were new, so the cashier had to get customer service to clear the check and get it into the system, so that won't happen again. The woman behind us was thankfully patient.

Lastly, a new discount liquor store opened up in town where a storage facility used to be. Still smells like a warehouse. It's easily $5 cheaper than any other place around for a case of beer. All in all, I probably put 12 miles on my car for the round trip.

The butcher was the real find of the day: 1 lb. of bacon they sliced on the spot for us, two rather large pork chops, and a good sized london broil for $15.08. This is easily half the price for the same stuff at my regular grocery store, Kings. I wouldn't buy meat at Shop Rite, unless it was a frozen bird, burger, or some tough cut for pot roast or stew. Kings is still it for fish. But this butcher's been there all along, and I never knew it. I've lived here for over 20 years. Perhaps it's because they're a family-run operation tucked away on a residential street, don't have a website, and don't rely on word-of-mouth retail.

Like Deni Bonet, I can't seem to manage to get arrested. No, I don't have pictures from Canadian immigration or U.S. customs in Toronto. Maybe if I'd tried to "declare" half a pound of cannabis, I could have gotten arrested for a false customs declaration, and gotten to skip a day of work. The truth is that I only bought a beer on the flight back to Newark, and by then we were over U.S. airspace.

Hmm, Blogger is tagging my posts on West Coast time, because they are all three hours behind. I'll have to look into fixing that.

Regarding the trip, however: "Victory!" "Tricky Dick" does it! My trip to Toronto wasn't for naught. The industry association's research committee to which we presented, discussed our methodology after we left, and approved it. Now our stat model and SQL database are into the loop for the computer programmers. My analytics department will need to fill in a few holes in the database, with surrogate regressions for similar demos/regionality, etc., but that won't hold up the programming aspect, because the majority of the database is already there, and its structure won't change with any additional data to plug holes.

Actually, I didn't provide any false answers to questions I got during my portion of the presentation, so I'm not really a Nixon-type, lying then stating: "I am not a crook!" But I'd rather be called "Tricky Dick" than "Slick Willie," when it comes right down to lying U.S. presidents. "Tricky Dick" has a better ring to it.

Do I sound cynical? I am. I'm a tail-end baby boomer. We haven't seen it all, but we've seen enough, and we still have 15-20 years to retirement, assuming we can retire at roughly the age our parents did, which I think unlikely. I pretty much have approached retirement with the attitude that Social Security will no longer be around when it comes my time to collect it, even though I've already paid heftily into it for 25+ years, and even if it is still around when I retire, it might pay the grocery bill for a week.

Alright, enough on that tangential topic. I need to stay awake enough to pick up Steve when he calls to say he's gotten back. Hope his cell phone hasn't lost all charge by now, and if it does, he has the change or credit card to use a pay phone to call me. There still are pay phones at train stations.

Must stay awake . . . dunno how, but must do it for another few hours until I pick up my guy and get him home safely.

Made it back from Toronto around 8pm today. Just as well mom insisted that dad give me a ride to the airport this morning. There wasn't much traffic at 4:30 am, but if I had driven myself, and parked in the daily lot, I would have had to drive home in gridlock in the pouring rain after dark, which I would have found totally nervewracking.

I had to wait on line for a cab for about 45 minutes, and then the usual 25 minute drive took an extra twenty minutes because of the rain, the time of day, and the express lanes on I-78 were closed for a portion of the way. Then, there was a 0.5 mile section of the local lanes where the water was a good 6" deep. The fixed-rate cab fare to my town was $37. I felt bad for the cabbie, so I gave him an $8 tip.

Three of us from my company showed up. Torpedo Tits, who picked me up at the airport after I got through customs and called her, and the sales person assigned to the client's account. Our timing driving into Toronto was good, and we managed to get on-street parking right across from the client's office. We arrived five minutes before we were due to go on, and met the sales account exec there. The client let us go over about five minutes. TT started off by doing the first 15 slides, I did the next 15, then sales exec wrapped it up with the last 18.

My section was the technical one about the statistical modeling and I didn't really speak to each slide individually, but would show the first of three similar ones, go into some detail, then breeze through the next two, onto the next section, etc. As I was looking around, I could tell that perhaps two or three people really understood it, and some of it zoomed right over many of their heads. But I guess I sounded authoritative enough that the few questions that were asked were intelligent ones.

My answers were truthful, and in the case of seasonality, and seasonal bias, I said that yes, if there is a seasonal bias to it, it would be Spring, because that's when the fieldwork was conducted for the custom studies upon which we based our model. Good answer. Correct answer. And the guy who asked the question turned out to be the guy who developed the algorithm for our Canadian Outdoor model a few years ago. I didn't know at the time it was he, but he knows his statistics shit better than I do, so when I got into the kind of frequency distribution algorithm we used and why we chose beta binomial over gamma poisson for indoor vs. outdoor, he completely "got it."

Some eyes glazed over, but that probably prevented them from asking stupid questions, so it might actually have been a good thing. The people to whom they look amongst themselves as the brain trust on that front weren't poking holes in what we did to develop the model. At worst, they were talking about ideas they had for improving/expanding the data behind the model in the future in conjunction with one of the syndicated research companies' databases, rather than relying on custom research as was done for this.

As far as customs goes, it was a little bizarre. I went through Canadian customs and immigration in Canada, as expected, but on the way back, anyone bound for the U.S. went through U.S. customs in Canada. God only knows what was done about immigration for Canadians landing in the U.S., because any of them could have followed me straight out the door without going through immigration. It was completely different coming back from London. I went through immigration in the U.S. with a U.S. passport, but there was nobody manning customs for us at all. When I came back from Costa Rica, I had to get grilled at Miami at both customs and immigration, before transfering to a NY flight.

I was instructed to lie to Canadian customs about the nature of my visit, and just said it was for meetings at my company's Toronto office. It was partially true. Got away with it, and I managed not to get arrested. Coming back home, the U.S. customs guy grilled me a bit then told me "You look beat." I refrained from telling him "Thanks, buddy!" and replied "Yeah, I had to set my alarm for 3:00 this morning to catch my flight up here." Good enough. "Next."

Seldom does my company send me on business trips. I'm not in sales or client support. But I did notice today that 2/3 of my business trips over the past 5+ years have been international. Why can't they send me to our Salt Lake City office during ski season, or Tampa in January? I've never been to either of those offices--ever. Chicago, yes, in Winter. Bleh!

I need to catch up on my sleep this evening, because I'll probably have to pick up Steve around 1 am on Friday when he gets back from his Ukraine trip. He may get in really late Thursday, but who knows?

Enough babble. I'm only good for about another half hour this evening, before I have to crash. And I have to be in the NYC office tomorrow, pretty much on time.

Twenty-four hours from now, I'll be on a plane to Toronto. If it's on time, we'll probably be starting our descent for a landing. I don't want to go to Toronto. It's supposed to be in the low 50s and rainy all day. Last time I went to Canada, all a U.S. citizen needed to get across the border was a driver's license or a birth certificate. Not any more.

I dread this trip, and having to stay up all night rather than risk oversleeping trying to catch two or three hours, but at least I should be home by dinner time. I have a round trip ticket, but since I'll be there and back in a single day, can you imagine the red flags it's going to set off with airport security, having no luggage besides a laptop computer, and staying for only about eight hours?

Why in the hell does my company insist on sending me on international, rather than domestic trips? Fuck this job. I really hate it.

What do you think? Did I nail the correct intersection in Denny's contest? His picture is not identical, but very similar, right down to being able to identify the same buildings and median. I don't know about you, but I can easily tell the difference between Japanese, Chinese, and Korean characters on billboards and jumbotrons. I can read Cyrillic, but not really understand it. I can read most Scandanavian languages and get the gist of it. I'm awful with reading anything Asian, and understanding it, but at least Korean uses phonetic characters.

Here's the pic that Denny posted. Look familiar?

Dad wanted me to come over today to test whether my cell phone works in his house by going around to various rooms upstairs and downstairs to call his land lines number. My phone worked just fine. Dad's is an older analog model. He uses Cingular, which apparently doesn't have great coverage in his area. Steve and I settled on Verizon about a year ago when we first got our cell phone service. The family plan pricing was similar among operators at the time, but Verizon had by far the best coverage--works fine pretty much anywhere in the U.S. but parts of Montana and the Dakotas. Since I don't do business there, it's a coverage area I don't really need to worry about.

Mom's birthday was Thursday, so I baked an apple pie for her this afternoon. The pie was still in the oven about the time I should have left for my parents' place, so I called to let them know I'd be a bit later than originally planned. Steve had gotten a 5 lb. bag of granny smith apples last weekend, and made apple crisp with a few of them. They were awfully tart, even for granny smiths, so I used an entire half a cup of sugar with the cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, and allspice. I don't normally use that much sugar, but these babies needed it. Actually, the only thing I really measured carefully was the shortening. I just eyeball everything else.

Mom sent me home with half the pie. Typical mom. I haven't had a piece yet, but I will later. She called to tell me how great it was. She really loves my apple pie. I made the pie crust with Crisco instead of butter. I never eat the crust anyway, so to me it doesn't matter whether it's butter, lard, shortening or even corn oil that's used (although oil can make the crust mealy instead of flaky). Crisco may become banned in NYC restaurants, because of some hare-brained law about banning man-made trans-fats. Under the proposed law, butter would not be banned, but margarine would, and so would shortening. I don't believe in legislating what people can and cannot eat, especially when it's hypocritical to not ban butter as a trans-fat.

It looks like Steve and I will be bringing them Thanksgiving dinner again this year. Steve likes the idea of taking over their kitchen and making it there. I'm not so sure about getting their oven all filthy. Last year, we made the turkey and fixings here, then brought them over in containers. I was terrified that the turkey would be dry since I'd never roasted one before (duck is my specialty, but we do that for New Year's). The turkey turned out just fine--nice and juicy. Mom hasn't been up to making holiday dinners since perhaps the 1980s, and now, with her MS acting up, she's not up to even going out for them, either. We don't mind catering for my parents. Even a 10 lb. turkey's way too much for two people and a cat! Why not share it?

Thank you, Kevin, for commenting about my Amish story not being published. If you read on, you'll understand why I asked that it not be published. My editor agreed with my reasoning.

Regarding my murder mystery short story set in a real Amish town in Illinois, I requested that my editor not publish it with her anthology, along with my explanation of why. The story is probably pretty solid, inasmuch as I really nailed the way the Amish in Nickel Mines, PA, reacted in real life to their own murder tragedy. I nailed the characterization, and many details of daily life. In my story, however, it wasn't an outsider who murdered the girls--it was a severely retarded young Amish boy. There are inbreeding issues within the Amish community that lead to mental retardation, so that part is realistic.

I felt horrible about the way the media was crawling all over the town in PA, instead of just leaving the community alone, but these school shootings ever since Columbine are front page news. At least the cops in PA managed to keep the media away from the actual funerals. I went to college about an hour north of Harrisburg, which wasn't the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country, but there were plenty of Anabaptists in surrounding towns, both Amish and Mennonite. Far be it from me to intrude on them, other than doing business, buying a pie at a farmers' market on a Wednesday, or some cheese and jam, or a nice cut of meat from a store they run.

Yes, I'm "English," a term the Amish generically use for all outsiders. My last name is indeed English, which traces back to a town in Derbyshire called Tissington, where my namesake is buried at a Catholic church, along with her husband, who happens to be my brother's namesake. That bit of background aside, the Amish and Mennonites never had a problem interacting with me, when it came to doing business, or as a "Hi neighbor," as Jerry Seinfeld put it. A "Hi neighbor" is one to whom you wave and acknowledge, saying "Hi!" as you pass on the street or in the hall, even if you don't know their name.

I've been to many funerals, Catholic, Jewish, Methodist and Presbyterian, but never an Amish one. I would never be invited to one, nor would I want to crash one. There is something just so wrong about doing that. I'm glad the media were kept away.

On another topic, the Mets won, and the Yankees lost! Whee! The Giants game is going to start soon, and I promised dad I wouldn't stop by until it's over. Well, 4:15 in case it runs overtime. He wants to test drive my Verizon cell phone service against his Cingular service, since his is up for renewal. "Can you hear me now?"

His house was built in 1930, so the walls are plaster/lathe construction. Radio waves don't go through those very well, so he's got limited ability to use his cell phone inside his house, as well as a wireless router for his computer. My walls are sheetrock, so I don't have the same issue. I don't think Verizon will do any better in his house, unless its signal is stronger. With either service, I suspect he'll have to go out the back door or onto his patio to use it.

None of us use our cell phones as a matter of habit. Land lines rule for clarity, and are much cheaper to use. But in this day and age, if you don't have a cell phone, it's tough to do business with clients. It's there, but I almost never use it, and it's the same with my dad. Steve uses it, but mostly because his clients call him on it, not vice-versa. Our highest usage so far was 180 minutes in August, when Yury was calling Steve. That's nowhere near our 700 family minutes, so there's no reason to upgrade our plan.

I managed to get my Amish story yanked from the anthology. It probably wasn't ready for primetime anyway, but "Phew!" It would have been so wrong on so many levels to publish it now.

My editor agreed and asked me if I had any other ideas for stories. My answer was "Maybe, but not at the moment." I just don't have an overactive imagination. When in doubt, show a banana, and look forward to ice hockey season.

In the meantime, GO METS!

The Peter Principle in Practice

Before I get to my real entry, I'd like to welcome Michael Manning to my blog. Today was the first time he commented. We have a number of mutual friends in the blogosphere--Deni, Denny, LisaB, Bud, etc. Welcome, Michael! Thanks for stopping by and commenting. I've returned your link favor, and linked to your blog.

(And now we return you to your regularly scheduled programming . . .)

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Our company had a big powwow this morning with my CEO's boss in corporate making an announcement about personnel changes. Our CEO has been promoted to a corporate job, with details to be announced next week. Torpedo Tits really, really, wanted the CEO job. She didn't get it. The CEO of two sister companies was handed the CEO job at ours as well, making him CEO of three companies within the same corporate division.

This is the Peter Principle at work. Our former CEO was fairly competent as the head of a company with less than 200 employees globally, but probably will be incompetent at his job in the huge parent corporation. I suspect Torpedo Tits has already been promoted to her own level of incompetence, and thus will rise no further within the organization. She was fine when she was the GM of the dinky Toronto office, but is seriously dangerous in her current position as the head of North American sales.

The new CEO was flown in from Chicago for this meeting, and was trotted around afterward to meet all of us who rank high enough to have window offices--i.e. anyone VP and higher. I like the guy. He apologized in advance if he forgets my name. Hell, if he remembers me as "the lady with all those plants on her windowsill," or "the lady in the Western fringe jacket at the meeting," I'm doing well. He's based in Schaumburg, so he has met very few of us before today. Told him I'd answer to "Hey-- you!" as long as he didn't look like he was talking into a cell phone. He laughed.

Enough drivel for one evening. Have a great weekend, everyone!

Seems Steve got off to Ukraine okay. I have to go to Toronto next week, but will be back before he returns. In his absence, mom's making my poor dad pick me up next week at an ungodly hour of the morning to drive me to the airport, because she fears for my safety driving myself and parking there in the daily lot way before the sun rises. My parents are both in their upper 70s. Let's face it--Newark isn't the safest place to be walking around in the dark, even at the airport.

I'll grab a cab home, then pick up Steve the next day. It'll work out fine. I do feel sorry for dad, though. He gets up early, as most older folks do, but not 4:00 am early! He's scheduled to pick me up at 4:30 am. It's both a blessing and a curse that my parents live only a couple of towns away from us.

Today was mom's birthday. It's midweek, so I didn't have time to bake her an apple pie, but I sent her a funny e-card, which she saw, and spoke with her over the phone. "You know what you'll be getting for your birthday . . . click here to see it! Older. Oh, yeah, I forgot the wiser part!"

I will be visiting them this coming weekend, so she will have her beloved apple pie a few days late. Forget cake--mom loves my apple pie, and raves about my flaky made-from-scratch crust. I prefer blueberry, and won't even eat my own pie crust, no matter how flaky it is, because I just don't like pie crust, period. But hey, it's apple season! Mom gets what she likes. I don't like cake either, so I can understand her pie deal.

Next up in quick succession are Steve's and my dad's birthdays. Dad gets food--perhaps a glazed pear tart. Steve badly needs a new piece of guy-like soft-sided luggage that isn't falling apart, to hold his business clothes and toiletries. I just use a compactable canvas bag that's at most 1/5 of my size. When I see a woman with a wheelie-dealie half her size, I think "I can fit two weeks worth of clothes into that, unless I'm headed for a ski resort, and you were here for what, three days, in the summer?"

The last time I went to Canada was well before 9/11, so all an American needed was either a birth certificate or a driver's license. It's way different now. At least my passport doesn't expire until December, and I can get it renewed at a post office.

Enough drivel for one night--have a good evening, everyone.

Cool. I've test driven Blogger Beta, and really like it. Can't yet use it here, according to the Blogger gods, but will at some point be able to merge the accounts. It's got much of the functionality of WordPress, in terms of click-n-drag to rearrange your sidebar elements, etc, and add elements to whatever template you choose to use. But you can use Java script which WP does not allow.

You can also do onscreen editing while viewing your blog, instead of having to dig through the HTML/CSS code, modify it, and republish the entire puppy. There are some cool little tool icons that pop up next to each blog element/widget--just click on them without having to go back to your dashboard.

I'm rarely enthusiastic about blog software, in terms of ease of use for setup and looks/style/customization for templates/skins, but I am very enthusiastic about Blogger Beta. Give it a try if you have the time and inclination.

On another note, I have yet to hear back from my editor about my re-submission. I didn't really expect to, yet. It's a waiting game. One thing in the news today really freaked me out, though. My story was set in an Amish town and involved a couple of murders that tore apart the town. Today's news was that a gunman, an "outsider," burst into a one room schoolhouse in PA, and left a bunch of carnage before killing himself. I don't pretend to be prescient, but it's a bit freaky.