March 29, 2005

• Addiction Update

  scottishfyre
  got me hooked on something new that will probably be taking up some of
  the time I had been spending on Xanga.  On her recommendation, I
  tried stumbleupon,
  and from my initial exploration, it seems to be a fun and useful
  tool.  Google works great for me when I know where I want to go or
  what I’m looking for.  At times, when I feel a desire for some
  random novelty, I click the “random” button on Xanga’s homepage or on
  one of my blogrings.  Now when I want something different and
  perhaps unexpected but not entirely random, I have a new button to
  click.

  Doug was immediately and emphatically unimpressed, saying, “Oh, more
  adware.”  But the site says it doesn’t do adware or spyware. 
  I explained what I knew about stumbleupon to Doug and he changed his
  judgement to, “more spam.”  His next criticism was that the
  toolbar further compresses our available display space.  He can
  fix that by closing that toolbar when he’s on here.  I just hope
  he doesn’t get into using it and skew my preferences with his
  reviews.  It’s the sort of thing he has been known to do in the
  past:  altering color schemes and changing my wallpaper, etc.

  He stood behind me for a while as I stumbled around on the net. 
  My initial set of stated preferences took me to several sites he was
  familiar with and I wasn’t.  Some of them I liked and approved to
  return to.   We also found a few sites that were new and
  interesting to both of us.  At one point I heard some sorta soft
  popping sounds coming from behind me.  Then Doug said, “OW! 
  Don’t sharpen your claws on my crotch.”  I just had to share
  that:  Hillary the new kitten in action.  On a more-or-less
  tangentially related topic, one of the new-to-us sites I stumbled upon,
  idiomsite (did you already know about this one, wixer?), supplied this origin for the phrase, “brass monkey.”

  In the heyday of sailing ships, all war ships
  and many freighters carried iron cannons. Those cannon fired round iron
  cannon balls. It was necessary to keep a good supply near the cannon.
  But how to prevent them from rolling about the deck? The best storage
  method devised was a square based pyramid with one ball on top, resting
  on four, resting on nine, which rested on sixteen. Thus, a supply of 30
  cannon balls could be stacked in a small area right next to the cannon.
  There was only one problem — how to prevent the bottom layer from sliding/rolling
  from under the others. The solution was a metal plate called a “Monkey”
  with 16 round indentations. But if this plate were made of iron, the iron
  balls would quickly rust to it in the salt air environment. The solution
  to the rusting problem was to cast the monkey out of brass. Thus the “Brass
  Monkey.” Few landlubbers realize that brass contracts much more and
  much faster than iron when chilled. Consequently, when the temperature
  at sea dropped too far, the spacing between the indentations and the indentations
  themselves would shrink so much that the iron cannon balls would come
  right off the monkey. Thus, it was quite literally, “Cold enough
  to freeze the balls off a brass monkey!”

  Since this is an addiction update, I might as well give
  you a progress report on my sucralose addiction.  Five days clean,
  I quit the same day I blogged about the addiction.  Behold the
  power of the blog!

  Once again, my recent additions to the memoirs have elicited a few
  comments to the effect that I recall a surprising amount of detail
  about my youth.  Once again, I’m going to say that it doesn’t seem
  so to me.  I recall high points, memorable events and
  people.  I forget a lot, too.  I have forgotten more than I
  remembered.  Maybe everything I ever focused my attention on is
  stored in here somewhere, but my recall is spotty.

  Yesterday, for example, I had to work at remembering Lucky Maddox’s
  name.  I could see his freckled face and crooked grin, and knew
  just how the much-laundered fabric of his plaid flannel shirt felt when
  he boosted me up to the supply closet window, but for hours I couldn’t
  recall his name.  Likewise with “Stardust”, the song that always
  ended the FAD Club dances.  Eventually, a bit of the melody came
  to mind, I hummed it and then heard the lyrics, and when I came to the
  line, “that Stardust melody, the memory of love’s refrain,” I had the
  title.

  I’ve mentioned this memory trick before, and for the benefit of you who
  have thus far only envied my recall without trying to emulate it, and
  for my new readers who haven’t read this, here it is again. 

  Raise
  one or both hands to your head, thumbs at temples and your two middle
  fingers resting over your third eye in the center of your brow. 
  This sends a flow of chi energy through your memory centers.  It
  also happens to be a universal gesture signaling an attempt to remember
  something.

  I may or
  may not be back later today with a new memoir segment.  Mercury
  retrograde seems to facilitate this effort, but it also appears to be
  contributing to some big lapses.  Somewhere in the last three
  segments, I should have mentioned that I changed my name when I was ten
  years old.  During the summer we moved to Wichita, I stopped
  answering when my mother called me Kathy.  I would only answer to
  my middle name Lynn. 

  What I really wanted was to be Elaine, a name I’d heard in a movie and
  liked.  It sounded so much more euphonious than Kathy, and
  wouldn’t always elicit the questions, “Is that short for Katherine or
  Kathleen?”  It wasn’t quite so common, either.  In my age
  cohort, there are more women named Kathy, Cathie, or something similar,
  than any other name. 

  When it was explained to me that changing my name involved legal
  formalities, I decided that Lynn was close enough.  I introduced
  myself as Lynn and filled out forms as K. Lynn, right up until my first
  husband joined the Army.  The U.S. government would not make out
  my allotment checks or issue me an ID card as K. Lynn.  It had to
  be Kathy L., not even, as I now prefer, Kathy Lynn.

  Larry, the love of my life, and I had a bit of explaining to do when we
  were reunited in 1962.  He had always known me as Lynn, and I’d
  known him by his stepfather’s last name, Ensley.  By the time we
  got together again, he was using his legal last name, Turner.

  Part of me wants to blog some more memoirs, but the necessity of tying
  it all together and aiming at some semblance of chronological order is
  an inhibiting factor.  Another part of me wants to go back to
  stumbling around the web.  I could always go back to reading a
  book.  Last night I happened to pick one up that I later
  discovered had been published in 1955, the same year I’ve reached in
  the memoirs.  It is full of quotable passages.  Here’s one:

  It is a talent of the weak to persuade
  themselves that they suffer for something when they suffer from
  something; that they are showing the way when they are running away;
  that they see the light when they feel the heat; that they are chosen
  when they are shunned.

  
  You are Form 2, Angel: The Pure.“And The Angel rose as holy protector for
  all that was created.  She fought with honor
  and valor to serve the good of the world.  But
  the coming of the mankind was her downfall; and
  end to purity.”Some examples of the Angel Form are Michael
  (Christian) and Hercules (Greek).The Angel is associated with the concept of virtue,
  the number 2, and the element of wind.Her sign is the zenith sun.As a member of Form 2, you are a person of your
  word.  You generally keep your promises and
  give everything you do your best.  Although
  some people see you as overbearing sometimes,
  you know that you have to stay true to yourself
  and do what’s right.  Angels are the best
  friends to have because they are brutally
  honest.

  Which Mythological Form Are You?
  brought to you by Quizilla

  
  

  62.5 %

  
  My weblog owns 62.5 % of me.
  Does your weblog own you?

  
  What Famous Leader
  Are You?
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  • 3:00 pm
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