Entries Tagged 'Uncategorized' ↓

Apparently Duke’s blog problems are catching.

We’ll be leaving for Minnesota on Saturday. I’ll be doing the blog roundup tomorrow, so posting will be sparse for a while.

Oh, but I did find a very interesting paper on why phishing works, here. At the very least, read the introduction, it has some great information on web security.

I’d like to apologise to everyone I pelted with e-mails. I was bored, but I shouldn’t force everyone to share in my misery.

Sometimes things just work out. Tim’s been debating selling his motorcycle for a while, now. I’ve been wanting a small catamaran for a long time now. This is a desire that peaks every summer and then settles into a slow burn for the cooler months. We’ve been watching the paper and we found one that wouldn’t break the bank, but I was still very hesitant about actually spending the money.

There was an offer on the bike and a deal was made, for five dollars more than the cost of my new (to me!) boat.

Of course, now I have temptation in my garage and I won’t get to try it out for a couple of weeks. Oh well, the anticipation will be fun.

I’m passing this link along for all my Nashville friends.

One brought tears to my eyes and wouldn’t you know it that’s when the Fed Ex guy showed up.

Thank you for sharing it, Mike.

My South Speaks:: Turner South

It happened again. I was out with my children, minding my own business, and someone “young ladied” me. Now, he only wanted to know the time, but still. Personally, I think I should have graduated to at least “Miss” by now. My mother thinks I’m off my rocker when I try to explain the connotations of “young lady, miss, and ma’am.”

Young lady is what most girls were told to be when they were small. For example, “We’re going out to eat and I want you to act like a young lady.” However, it always remained negative in my mind. Authority figures would use the term when you were in some manner of trouble, “Young lady! Come here.” Finally, “young lady” is how smug restaurant patrons refer to their servers. “Young lady, I wanted hot coffee. Go rinse a mug in hot water, then fill it with boiling coffee, my teeth aren’t melting. You call this hot?”

“Miss” has pleasant undertones. It’s for small children who are familiar with you, but not family. I love being “Miss Heather” to my friend’s children. “Miss” is also for polite strangers and the type of people I enjoyed waiting on, in my restaurant days. “Miss, do you have the time?”

Ma’am is a term of respect. I use it often, regardless of age. I want my boys to use it. It doesn’t bother me if someone uses it to address me. It used to fluster me when I’d be working and suddenly someone would snap, “I’m not a ma’am. Ma’am is my mother.” I don’t know exactly what would happen, but something would short circuit in my brain and I’d be unable to use any other form of address. I finally came to terms with it, one day. What would they do? Call the home office and say I was rude? I can just imagine that conversation?
“Can you explain the incident please?”
“She called me ma’am?”
“Anything else?”
“No, just ma’am.”
“I see, well, we must put a stop to that. We can’t have our employees referring to female customers as ma’am.”

That incredibly long tangent was to explain why I hate being “young ladied.” As I have a couple of children, I would like to pass for their mother and not their sitter. I should probably update my wardrobe. Is there anyone willing to give me a hand? I am utterly clueless. I visit the store, look through the racks and eventually yield to the t-shirts, jeans, and converse. I want to look grown up, but not yuppified, adult but not soccermom. I hate soccer.

Unfortunately, I think I probably fall under that heading. I felt weird about stepping into one of my neighbor’s yards to take some pictures, yesterday. So, I gave her a nice copy of the picture I took and proceeded to babble like a co-ed on amphetamines. A better view can be found here.

I went to Bushy Park to take some photos. I remembered the camera, lenses, tripod(s). I saw the shot, set everything up, and turned the camera on.

Beep

No memory card.

Dammit.

What was your last moment of “brilliance?”

***Update ~7:45am on Sunday***

Another day another moment, somehow they are worse when I haven’t had my coffee.
I started the pot of coffee, but neglected to put the carafe on the hot plate.

I am on a roll.

A couple of these are quite old. Gromit is the darker, daintier one, although they are both supposed to be full basset hounds.

The board also reduced the tax rate, so that property with an assessed value of $100,000 would experience a $20 reduction. Board members said they hope the measure can provide some relief to taxpayers.

After some number crunching, without even breaking out the handy dandy calculator, I found that I’ll have an extra buck a week in the budget. That is until they reassess.

Maybe once a month I’ll take the boys to Once Upon a Child and they can choose a shirt to share. This is just fantastic!

Hooray.

Actually, I’m quite happy they didn’t raise the rates.

This area is growing. The new projects will be funded with alternative financing. While not my first choice, it does make sense. In the next few years, when new developments are completed, there will be pressure on our schools. Unfortunately, I think my kids will still be assigned to Whitesville Elementary and I am not pleased with the prospect.

I guess if I was as concerned as I sometimes think I ought to be, I’d make a better note of when the meetings occur.

If you see me this evening, I’ll probably be wearing a goofy grin. You see, the sun is shining and I have an errand in West Ashley. The husband has to be home early to watch the boys and this means I get to drive my jeep. No car seats and no strollers, no diaper bag and no whining.

I’ll take the top down and tie my hair up. I’ll crank the radio and find my sunglasses. It’s only for an hour or two, but I can’t wait.

I just might round out the evening with an icy Dr. Pepper, a book, and a stolen hour.

We ventured all the way to Marion Square, yesterday. For most of the locals, it’s a quick jaunt, but for us ‘hicks in the sticks,’ it’s quite the haul. We packed a lunch and arrived just as the band was making its appearance. The two year old was interested, but not in dancing. He prefers to stand stone faced glaring at the musicians. Later when asked he commented, “I liked that music.”

Meanwhile, this little girl seemed entranced.