It is Pi day.
For all of – us who are not math-geeks, in the American date system today is March 14 aka 3.14 which is the start of Pi. Geometry? Circles?
Or, as it better to think of – Dani provided the alternative photo from Pi Day at work –
eight options for Pi Day
And, while tasting – you can go to BandCamp and listen to PDX Broadsides – here
Gwen
Waiting on her people to come home.
In what is reputed to be an annual affair, there were literally thousands of school children at today’s Cal Women’s Basketball Game. Schools from San Jose south of us to Fairfield on the north (plus several Richmond primary schools), all the Berkeley Elementary Schools, a number from Oakland and (surprisingly to me) a number from both San Francisco and the peninsula. Since they announced all the schools, accompanied by lots more screaming, it was easy to determine who was missing (Albany, Marin, and about 1/2 the private schools).
As is there wasn’t enough noise, it was also Fire Prevention Education Day. Yes, Smokey walking around large as life was a real hit. I didn’t mind all the hints, but demonstrating sirens and fire alarms? That was a bit much.
Did I mention that the game started at 1130 which obviously put it at an excellent time for schools. It wasn’t a great time for the Straw Hat Band. They were out on their annual ski trip. As far as their usual alumni taking over, well, most had to work. I was really impressed that they managed to field about 20 with a bit of rearrangement as to who played what so that the important instruments (percussion & brass) were covered.
For a change, the referring was even handed and quite good. Very few questionable calls, and refs who were strict, The Cal Women’s managed to pull off a win over Washington State. Interesting to note, the Cougars didn’t have one native Washington State player on the team (Portugal, Australia, Israel, Eastern Europe – kind of like the University of Utah).
Timed it perfectly to catch the #65 up the hill to home. George spent the day doing various assorted meetings in San Francisco so he wasn’t home till late. My last missing textbook finally showed up. I thought about studying….
This year, as apposed to previous years, I have been trying to write fairly early in the day. There was a time when writing at the end of the day was just routine. But that is something that is far easier to accomplish when one is deployed (see 1998, 2003-04, 2005, 2010-2011 – months within those dates) and there are limited demands on time other than those which are work related. Come to think of it, I should probably add in the mind numbing time (2009-2010) in the UK where, if I hadn’t made some excellent friends, I might have spent my entire off duty time holed up with knitting. – Oh, wait a minute, that is largely what I did!
Anyway – I was in no shape to write this morning. In fact, I am not even sure that I recognized when morning occurred. Remember me mentioning the second Costco run – the one where I picked up a Fast-Trak for Dani? Did I also mention that they had cherries? Normally I only buy cherries in the spring when they are fresh. But Costco had 1 kg containers on sale. They appeared to be the same as all the other cherries I had purchased last spring.
So I bought them.
And ate them yesterday evening. After all, no one in this house expects me to share cherries. They know better. Nothing about them was strange, nothing tasted off. But those self-same cherries revisited me multiple times starting at 0 dark whenever. Since there was absolutely nothing else that I ate, I am blaming the cherries.
I think the last time I felt that awful was ~ 1995 after a trip to Taszar (Hungary) during IFOR. That particular episode was accompanied by fever and chills. (T*40C) and turned out to be a major salmonella outbreak. It was also the last time I ever ate scrambled eggs in a deployed environment. And since then I have been meticulous about food and drink. Other members of my family have gotten food borne illness since then, but not me. Not norovirus, not anything, not me.
So why was I lucky enough to get sandbagged in my own house? To the tune of ill enough that I actually thought about going into SFVA for hydration?
No clue, but by not sharing my cherries, at least no one else became ill.
Nothing like looking at the forecast and seeing rain.
Or, for that matter, looking out the window which just confirms what you already know – it is quite wet out there. There is a strong temptation just to curl up in front of the fireplace with a nice book, blanket. Or audiobook and knitting if I believed for even a minute that it would be possible to knit a complicated lace pattern and do anything else at the same time.
So instead I ran errands, replenished my bead supply (see knitting mentioned above and Wild Swan from a couple of days ago). By the end of the day I had made it to row 69.
The highlight (or not) of the afternoon was getting soaked on my way to the Cal Basketball game (which they managed to not lose).
from the opposite bleachers
and then it was home followed by a late in the dark run to OAK to pick up Noah.
At least that is what I am telling myself. So far I have reviewed five pages of outlines, several misc. documents, read through my notes, played computer games and skimmed some junk genre fiction.
So much for good intentions.
And there was also the Cal’s Women’s Basketball game this afternoon (they pulled off a win, but their % from the floor left a bit to be desired. Had the opponent been one of the PAC-12, it would not have turned out so well). But the Straw Hat Band was there, tho not in numbers. I gifted out the first batch of pins made from Miriam’s design
thought about studying some more, but had dinner instead and going to sleep relatively early.
with blue skies and balmy temperatures. It was shirtsleeves in normally cool San Francisco with t-shirts and shorts in the East Bay.
The weather in much of the rest of the world hasn’t been as kind. But then, it would take a flaming sword, a burning bush and forty days of rain to make certain people believe that humans have an impact on their world beyond that of other creatures. Certainly science has not been successful, no matter how solid in convincing someone with fingers in their ears singing la-la-la-la that the world is not how they perceive it. That just because they believe does not make it so.
This is not Star Trek. The Captain can’t just say “make it so” and all the action then proceeds along the path best ordained to finish the story in the 60 minutes (minus commercials) that have been set aside for our entertainment.
My long sleeves and fuzzy vest which had been a comfort in the morning was now much more than I needed to be wearing. Those around me gave me those sideways looks which clearly could be interpreted as “you are an idiot and over dressed.” It was uncomfortable in San Francisco, it was well beyond insanity once I exited the BART in Berkeley and faced the several block dash to catch the 65 Bus up the hill.
Did I mention the earlier conversation with my well loved husband? The one where he said he was at an appointment in Oakland followed by a meeting in Berkeley? The one with the implication that he was going from one to the other. So there I am, hot, tired and whining as I stump up the driveway to find that he is home.
What!?!!!
I came home.
Why didn’t you tell me you could have picked me up.
Ummmmm.
Don’t you just love married communications? I am glad it was a beautiful day with a great sunset. It meant it wasn’t worth really getting upset.
This birthday is passing quietly with no fanfare, announcements or celebration. It isn’t a major milestone (other than the fact that I have survived yet another year).
In Germany, you really celebrate the decade birthdays. In the US, well there are milestone years – 21, 40, 65… which most people seem to think are of import. The first because it is now the “age of adulthood” as far as drinking in the US. Never mind you can marry, join the military or sign contracts at 18 – ETOH seems to be what most people equate with adulthood. 40 is a magic number. It has been traditionally that year in which you really have to acknowledge that you are an adult. You are supposed to be firmly ensconced in job/family and all the other accoutrements of settled responsibility. And, let us not forget, you might just be over half way through with your life. 65? That one used to be obvious. It was the standard retirement age recognized by the US government as being both eligible to collect your social security AND being on the Medicare rolls.
Now, let me reflect for a moment. At 21 I was through undergraduate and looking at medical school. Drinking? I did ‘t have the money for that. Besides, legal drinking age in Minnesota at that time was 18. Meaning, of course that just about everyone who wanted to drink in high school was able to do so. The average family size in my area was 5.6 children (hello? high school stats class). Just about everyone had an older brother/sister/cousin etc who didn’t mind buying and supplying a six-pack or some of what was considered the height of sophistication – Boon’s Farm Apple or MadDog 20/20.
At 40 I was stationed at Ft Drum busy being a division surgeon. This was about nine years into my military career. Interesting events including hatching Noah (being pregnant at 40 was less fun than at earlier ages), Hurricane Andrew, relocating to the Army Surgeon General’s Office for an “interesting 2 year tour.” (think Gilligan’s Island). Did I think ½ my life was gone? No clue, I hardly had time to think. Did I think I was an adult? Well, I masqueraded as one. Had to as I was in a couple of positions “of significant responsibility” as the phrase goes. Being a parent of an infant and toddler at that age really balances the scales in the direction of claiming, at least superficially, to be an adult. The Eldest was spared the worst of provincial Ft Drum.
At 65? I was out to sea. Literally. I made sure after getting invited to retire in 2011 that I was never, ever anywhere that someone would feel obligated to call me out or make a fuss. I was an adult as far as the military went. In fact, I was considered well “past my prime” as they had the too many years of service and, BTW, you are “old too” point of view. As far as Medicare went? I figured out that the VA qualified and spared myself the hunk that everyone else gets taken out of their retirement paycheck every month. Unlike Medicare – the VA will actually pay for emergency care (service related which everything is for me) anywhere in the world as long as I notify them promptly.
So here I am, waving goodby to another year while relaxing in Rome. Interesting meeting, good knowledge. Safe and secure in the knowledge that no one knows and or cares about my age.
Does that sound more impressive than 40 years? Not sure but that is how long I have been married. The advantage to using the above tag on the post is that the software doesn’t seem to be able to handle a number as the first word in the title.
Go figure, I can’t. And spelling out forty is just dumb. Especially since I can’t spell and depend on word correct for the presence/absence of “u.”
We were married 10 Sept 1978 on a lovely Sunday afternoon that was unseasonably hot. I think I have shared pictures in the past. I had long hair, George’s was auburn and to his shoulders with a seriously matching beard. Since I changed computers, I don’t have the pictures at hand.
Looking back over the years just since I have had this blog – it is rare that we have both been in the same city on our anniversary. For example, ten years ago I was in York (UK), he was in Tel Aviv.
Looking back, I figure I was lucky. Found someone who could make a commitment, had a kind heart, and could put up with me even when there were really bad days.
Married for better, worse, house renovations and even a return to the education system!
After serious consideration – well, all three minutes of it – I made the decision this morning not to head over to UCHasting for the class I am auditing. Actually I probably made the decision last night when I didn’t finish drafting everything for today’s class. In all, it made me more comfortable to hang out in the Kaiser Oakland waiting room with George than it would have to be BART across the Bay and unable to get back should there have been a problem. It is not like the Eldest hasn’t been this route before – we were hoping that her surgery in April would have permanently have solved her problem – but her pain came back so here we were again.
There was also the fact that she was first up in the surgical queue today rather than the last case of the day. The only thing positive about having to be anywhere at 0600 in the morning one can say is that traffic isn’t anywhere near as bad as it could be.
Her surgery went well; she looked awake in the recovery room and we just about managed to get her back to her house before the block wore off. The cats, of course, were delighted to have her back if only to snuggle before using her/her bed once again as a trampoline. Daughter #2 and I will be alternating time here along with George for some daytime coverage so that we don’t leave her undefended for the next couple of weeks just in case.
I have an exam tomorrow, so will head to the city, hit part of the afternoon game then hurry back. After tomorrow – no class till the 20th.
In the 19th Century when everyone traveled across oceans by ships you took your worldly goods with you in a steamer truck. Or seaman’s trunk. I have heard both terms used,
wood with metal bands
This particular old truck is rumored to have traveled from Europe to Minnesota (~1880s-1890s). It passed from my grandmother to my mother to me. It became mine in 2014. Colin moved it from Arkansas to Minnesota ~ 2007. In in he placed anything that he thought I might want. One of my purposes on this trip was to sort out all those things that really should be re-homed.
As it turned out, there were a lot of those. A few old cook-books will be kept. Some dishtowel that my grandmother hand embroidered. Several pieces of art my mother created in the 1950s. But mostly, I wanted the trunk. It is heavy planks and is iron banded. The shipping may wind up costing me more than it is worth, but that is also alright.
It has been a long time since I learned to drive. Shall we just leave it at having had a license for well over a half century? Or learning to drive on a tractor which means that I grew up assuming that driving and standard transmissions were the norm.
This is obviously not the case for either those who grow up in US inner cities where both cars and driving are out of reach. The same goes, but for different reasons for those who grow up in Europe. Germany, where my offspring spent most of their years increased the driving age from 16 to 18 more than two decades ago. Not that this was an issue for the average German teenager since the price of mandatory drivers education, much less the ownership of a car was out of economic reach for just about all of them. The secondary affect was that DoDDs schools stopped offering Driver’s Ed as part of the school curriculum since Status of Forces Agreement would prohibit the testing and licensure of any US family members below the age of 18. A compromise, which enabled those who already had a US Stateside license to continue driving as long as they could pass the mandatory written test enabled a few drivers at age 16. Not seeing any need for any of mine to drive, I didn’t see the need to send kids to the US over a summer just so that they could learn to drive.
The end result of all of this is that the Eldest got her license (stateside) at age 26 but really didn’t do any significant driving till around age 30. None of the younger three have ever gotten a license.
All of which goes to explain why, at 0600 on a Sunday morning I was at the North Berkeley BART Station as a passenger to Daughter #2 while we did the Bunny Hop around the parking lot. The two choices for early on a weekend morning fall into public lots and mall lots. Since the BART station was closer, that is where we went.
I did mention that our small VW hatch back has a standard transmission?
It makes for a much steeper learning curve than I remembered. But then, a tractor which creeps along towing the hay flatbed for days on end is not exactly a high pressure environment and one can stay in first gear for a long long time. A parking lot which turns out, as much of the land here does, to have a slight slant means using clutch, break and gas peddle from the beginning. A parking lot also doesn’t require extensive use of turn signals, a real advantage.
We are sitting in the brand new United Lounge at SFO. It is honestly amazing. Lovely comfortable modern furniture in neutral colors. Plug-ins at each and every location. WiFi available without a lot of login fuss. The food has markedly improved (hot, cold, sushi, seaweed salad and pickled ginger!).
Which translates to individual work stations, two locations of single person gender neutral accessible bathrooms (~9 in each) a meeting area with views of the airTrain and a comfortable two person seating area with lots of power points
We are on TK80 from SFO to IST (Istanbul for all those normal people who don’t carry a plethora of airport codes in their heads). It is a 13 hour flight plus we have at least 9 hours of time change. End result is that we leave at 1815 today and arrive at 1715 on the 1st. Right. After hanging out in the Turkish Airlines lounge (think olives, wonderful olives) till 0140 (which is now the 2nd of June) we board TK160 for Antananarivo after another 12-13 hours.
(Flight update, the plane is somewhere. Departure delayed now to 2015)
The kids are around so the house is not empty or an invitation to thieves. I packed last night, then had to redo a few things this morning (craft supplies, camera batteries, cables, new insoles for my shoes and sunblock). Last but not least, I could NOT find the passport photos I printed yesterday after searching just about everyplace I could think of. Gave up, went to the UPS/DHL place and in 10 minutes had new ones. It is not that I need another passport, but Madagascar requires a Visa on entry. Payable in crisp cash, exact amount recommended. Which seems to be more than is what on the website so who knows what it will be at the time.
Meanwhile, I finally have solved the USB-C that Apple thought was brilliant to install on their new laptops (in lieu of a normal USB 2/3). One of the stands in the airport had them. Oh – did I mention that I went to Apple this morning and the dude sold me the wrong thing?
Final comment – Daughter #2 variously referred to over the years as Ms Soprano or Daughter #2 took and passed her drivers permit exam this afternoon. So I might actually wind up with 2/4 able to legally drive a car.
I have set up some prescheduled posts for the next couple of weeks so that you will know “where in the world is …..” My plan, should I be able to get on line will be to update and post photos. I suggest you check the blog since there is no guarantee that I will be able to email photos on a daily basis.
Which I think was longer for my friend having surgery than me.
I haven’t been an inpatient for a while and certainly not one facing major surgery since 1995. I don’t count a shoulder scope as major surgery. Rehab yes, but nothing major as far as recover on the surgical side. So anyway – Adventist Hospital with staff and patients coming in all sizes and shapes. Visitor parking that is free. Yes, free parking which is unheard of in most major metropolitan areas. Except for the SFVA which offers free parking but has extremely little actually available.
Back to the present – surgical waiting room for hours where I had a chance to talk to a myriad of interesting people: a gentleman in his early fifties who was there supporting his sister-in-law while his brother faced yet another in what seems to be an endless number of surgeries, a guy who fits the classic “long haired looking hippy” of my era who is probably mid40s worrying both about his family member in surgery and their 9 month old family pooch who has just had a leg amputated secondary to a tumor and an elderly man waiting on his partner hoping for good news but not really expecting it. Everyone gets a case number when they come in. Visitors have it written down along with a sticker saying they are a visitor. The electronic board on one wall lists location of patients by their case number by pre-op, in procedure or pacu. (Post anesthetic care unit for those not of US medical background).
I found the cafe/cafeteria. Their coffee is quite decent and a lot cheaper than Peets or Starbucks. They don’t offer completely healthy choices, but each and every item lists caloric load as well as distribution and amounts of protein, fat, carbs and sodium. I could easily live without knowing how many calories in each item come from fat, but that is just me….
Followed by transfer to the ward and settling in before I headed out in the rain.
And before you think I am totally and completely out of it, please remember that I spent most of the years between 1981-2015 living outside the US. Outside of occasional brief stints, I have had no contact with US based primary/secondary school eduction with my children. In fact, other than my own experience as a student aged 17 and under, DoDDs schools provide my only window into US based schools. I have no experience with Parent/Teacher Associations or whatever the current nomenclature for what I remember as the PTA. Certainly I know nothing about them or their fundraising outside of what I have read in fiction.
For those reading this and living outside the US (Australia, New Zealand, Canada, UK for English speaking plus the salting of French and German speakers) I effectively am as naive about such organizations as you.
How was I to know that PTAs have added “evenings out at a family restaurant” to their fundraising repertoire? Carmen knew about such things and explained it to me, but I hadn’t a clue. It did explain why our chosen location for dinner – The Silver Diner was packed with children and their families. Kindergarten through Second as it seemed to be. According to our poor waitress, the group had made a reservation for “about 25” which turned out to be a gross underestimation.
How does this work? The group makes an arrangement for a time when the restaurant normally is not that busy and in return gets an amount per head or % of sales from the group. It obviously made the kids happy, there were cheerful youngsters everywhere excited about seeing their friends. Kids coloring, parents and grandparents looking poleaxed and the waitstaff dodging the waist high crew as they attempted to take orders and deliver meals.
The young lady in line behind us as we entered explained that she could see kids from her class and was ever so excited. When one of the kids informed her that her teacher was having diner, I thought she would wiggle out of her skin. With rare exception, the kids were actually well behaved. As a group, it was almost as diverse as the Bay Area without the breakdown along ethnic lines that is all too often seen in San Francisco.
The menu was great, featuring burgers and other US people friendly food in varieties from buffalo through salmon to vegetarian (I didn’t want to ask if they had a separate grill) with a pick list for adding additional condiments. Veggies were offered in lieu of fries. The water was cold and served with lemon. In other words, nice comfort food, it the place wasn’t so filled with cheer, kids and noise that you couldn’t carry on a normal conversation.
The location faintly reminded me of the 5 & Diner that Noah and I ate at once in Scottsdale. With a major exception – the Silver Diner chain does as much as they can to be part of the “farm to table” movement and locally source their comestibles whenever possible.
Lou is progressing – and other than that – it is raining. Again.
16 May 2018
I am still trying to identify why particular colors of embroidery floss seem to vanish just as I really would like to add that particular number to the canvas. I suppose I could accuse Shana’s two cats of stealing skeins, but that wouldn’t be the truth. Although they love string and would pounce in a heart beat I don’t see them as going on the offensive. I have some DMC floss-holders, I have a few baggies-on-a-ring and then there are the bits and bobs hiding in the bottom of whatever box, envelope or container I could swear I just emptied. In between being frustrated by the cross-stitch I did a bit of ironing for Shana as quilts go together much more easily when the blocks get ironed.
Yes, there was cat help for that as well
snopervision
In between I listened to the NYY vs As game. Or watched the box on my iPad when it finally got underway over 2.5 hours late. Something about rain. Not an issue for the East Bay…
None of us thought about Mother’s Day or brunch till about Thursday at which time it was impossible to get a reservation anywhere.
At least anywhere that wasn’t fast food.
We agreed that there was nothing magic about Sunday vs Saturday and headed to the Royal Cafe on San Pablo to enjoy a lovely breakfast on a sunny and clear morning.
After we dropped Alex and Noah back at the house, Dani, Shana and I headed off on a round of errands. The end result of the day was that Shana and I ended back in Richmond to the vocal scolding of two cats who felt they had not received their proper due of petting this day.
Back to cross-stitch, some sewing and perhaps an audiobook.
Lost again tonight. This will make tge third time zone change in six nights. Add to that the three hours I lost somewhere over the US on my way to Tampa and yiu start to see the extent of my confusion. Not helped by this particular ship’s captain who seens to like pushing ahead in the middle of the night. Personally, I like east bound changes in the middle of tge day. 1200 becomes instantly 1300. When wvening comes, the night is the same length. Getting shorted an hour of activities to me is better than losing one of my rare hours of sleep.
The house in California is still standing as reported by family there. Others teaveling seem to be doing ok. All four legged members are ok and Dani’s two seem to be adjusting to their new (renovated) digs.
downstairs yet this month.
a few things moved into the living room
The kids are working diligently on sorting out their stuff and figuring out what needs to be stored (seasonal), what needs to get relocated downstairs and what just might go the way of the recycling.
and a few more into the bedroom
Their furniture is mostly in, there is stuff on the wall.
Is it evil of me to say that I am looking forward to them, and most especially the dogs, having their own space?
Not managing to crawl out of bed for the first “family taxi” run of the day I picked up the slack from there on out.
I will just give you the summary:
George to BART, San Pablo Ave (personal trip), Acme Bakery, Berkeley lighting for the last fixture, pick up Dani & Gwen, drop off Alex, pick up & drop off George, pick up Dani & go to Costco, drop off stuff to Shana, drop off rest at home, stop at Sprouts, drive back to Shana’s, drive home.
By this time it was close to 2030 and the last load was ready to toss in the laundry.
So that only left packing.
Believe it or not, there still was fuel in the car!