Wednesday, December 12, 2018
Earthquake? Tremor?
At exactly 5 a.m. today, I walked into my kitchen and there right in the middle of the floor was a white disc, about a foot in diameter. Kind of like a flying saucer, or a frisbee. I had no idea what it was or how it got there. A little eerie, since no one else had been in the house, that I knew of anyway. Not until I happened to look up did I see it was the light fixture that had fallen off. Also a little mysterious as that bulb rarely burns out and it's been a number of years since that light cover has been removed.
Tuesday, December 11, 2018
More Oil
I'm living "Groundhog's Day." It seems I should expect a change, but back we go to the past. I changed fuel oil suppliers this season because John Ray's prices were much higher than any of their competitors.
Last March I called and told them to stop delivery, and hired Polsinello / Mirabito, who made their first delivery this fall at $3.11 per gal.
On 11-26-18, John Ray delivered---unordered---49 gal. at $4.299 per gal. I called and I finally offered to pay them what I was paying now. The rep gratefully accepted, and said she'd send a revised bill for that amount.
On Dec. 12, I received the same bill with price as before, which is $210.65 for 49 gal.
Today the Polsinello truck made delivery. The driver said "it didn't take much." The delivery was for 42 gal at $2.979 per gal. totaling $125.71.
I offered the explanation to the driver,who said, "Oh, Free Oil!" He sees their trucks, doesn't know how they can do business.
I think my kind and generous offer to John Ray has just lowered. If they want to dispute it, they can just take back their "unordered goods."
Last March I called and told them to stop delivery, and hired Polsinello / Mirabito, who made their first delivery this fall at $3.11 per gal.
On 11-26-18, John Ray delivered---unordered---49 gal. at $4.299 per gal. I called and I finally offered to pay them what I was paying now. The rep gratefully accepted, and said she'd send a revised bill for that amount.
On Dec. 12, I received the same bill with price as before, which is $210.65 for 49 gal.
Today the Polsinello truck made delivery. The driver said "it didn't take much." The delivery was for 42 gal at $2.979 per gal. totaling $125.71.
I offered the explanation to the driver,who said, "Oh, Free Oil!" He sees their trucks, doesn't know how they can do business.
I think my kind and generous offer to John Ray has just lowered. If they want to dispute it, they can just take back their "unordered goods."
Sunday, December 9, 2018
Kinda funny, I guess
Today while paying for a prescription at Rite Aid, the pharmacist there, new to me, accused me of having a fake ID. I didn't have to show my license, but he must have peered in while I was removing my credit card. I don't know what he thought, but this is what he saw, nothing different from the last several years:
Oh, the Humility!
I renewed my subscription to the Troy Record, unable to resist the incentives offered as enticement. As is general policy in much of business lately, the old loyal customers are asked to help pay the price of reeling in new customers.
Anyway, the Record was delivered yesterday. I already get the Times Union, and while their Crossword is mind-numbingly easy, and the Jumble is, well, the Jumble, I have begun to actually look forward to the Cryptoquip, and pride myself on how skilled I have become at solving it --to read a whole sentence or two with the hint of only one letter.
With time still on my hands, I perused the puzzle page of the Record, and found the crossword to be of a higher level than that of the TU. I actually had to use both Across and Down clues instead of just reading and filling in one or the other. So, that done, I looked at their Cryptoquote: 4 lines and not a single letter for a clue. Egad, how can that be possible? I dismissed it as an impossible exercise, but then had the thought that it appeared regularly. The newspaper paid the syndicate, so there must be a demand for it. Those readers can't all be geniuses, so I decided to give it a try. Applying both the elements of skill and common sense, I came up with: NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF JEALOUSY AND THE POWER OF ENVY TO DESTROY----OLIVER STONE
So now, to fill the moments of the day, I have 2 Cryptic exercises to solve---simple work for simple people.
Anyway, the Record was delivered yesterday. I already get the Times Union, and while their Crossword is mind-numbingly easy, and the Jumble is, well, the Jumble, I have begun to actually look forward to the Cryptoquip, and pride myself on how skilled I have become at solving it --to read a whole sentence or two with the hint of only one letter.
With time still on my hands, I perused the puzzle page of the Record, and found the crossword to be of a higher level than that of the TU. I actually had to use both Across and Down clues instead of just reading and filling in one or the other. So, that done, I looked at their Cryptoquote: 4 lines and not a single letter for a clue. Egad, how can that be possible? I dismissed it as an impossible exercise, but then had the thought that it appeared regularly. The newspaper paid the syndicate, so there must be a demand for it. Those readers can't all be geniuses, so I decided to give it a try. Applying both the elements of skill and common sense, I came up with: NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF JEALOUSY AND THE POWER OF ENVY TO DESTROY----OLIVER STONE
So now, to fill the moments of the day, I have 2 Cryptic exercises to solve---simple work for simple people.
Little Wars Major Victories
Life is always full of challenges, and mine has been no exception. For most of the setbacks and problematic situations, I've either accepted them or regrouped and worked around them. But I chose to engage in at least 3 major battles and victory, of one sort or another, has been mine.
My memory of details about the first is a little vague, having occurred a long time ago, and before I took the copious notes which I learned are integral to waging a successful battle.
When I graduated from college and began my teaching career, we had a limited time period to earn a master's degree, to keep valid our teaching certification. I think then it was 5 years instead of the 10 which it much later became. I was well on my way to fulfilling that requirement with the time limit fast approaching when I received a letter from the college saying there had been some sort of miscalculation, and I would not be eligible for certification. Back then, leniency was rare indeed, and I think it meant that I would have had to start over. College had not been easy, and I'd had my share of negative happenings, which I had come to accept as part of my fate. But this was too important.I looked for a way to disagree with the decision, and found the sole recourse was to arrange an in-person interview with the Dean of Misery or such and plead my case. His name, I think, was Dr. Llewellyn Jones.
I found myself in the anteroom to his office one afternoon, contemplating my chances. The door opened and a young woman came out. She was crying, real tears streaming down her face.Tears of sadness or relief, I couldn't determine. I entered to meet Dr. Jones, who seemed amiable enough. I presented the scant paperwork that I had, including their admission of error. He skimmed over the pages and said I was fine. He amended the decision. All was well. But I learned that, sometimes at least, one person has the power to transcend all the bureaucratic red tape, and grant your request. That was the lesson learned, and the path I would pursue.
Battle #2 took much more time and was much more crucial: the struggle to obtain health insurance through my employment. Dave's insurance had expired and we had no viable route to any other policies. I'll spare the details of this struggle, but with newly available access to the internet, hours and days of research ensued, plus waiting for some hard-headed guardian of finances in the business office to either retire or die, both of which events eventually transpired. Again, it meant contacting the right person or persons, the decision makers. After 5 long years, we were finally enrolled in a health plan. Victory was sweet, if you can call it that.
My latest, maybe last, battle has come, almost, to a favorable, and life-changing conclusion. Only a matter of time until a person, or group of people, will add the final touches to what has been a 2-year odyssey into the heretofore unknown.
My memory of details about the first is a little vague, having occurred a long time ago, and before I took the copious notes which I learned are integral to waging a successful battle.
When I graduated from college and began my teaching career, we had a limited time period to earn a master's degree, to keep valid our teaching certification. I think then it was 5 years instead of the 10 which it much later became. I was well on my way to fulfilling that requirement with the time limit fast approaching when I received a letter from the college saying there had been some sort of miscalculation, and I would not be eligible for certification. Back then, leniency was rare indeed, and I think it meant that I would have had to start over. College had not been easy, and I'd had my share of negative happenings, which I had come to accept as part of my fate. But this was too important.I looked for a way to disagree with the decision, and found the sole recourse was to arrange an in-person interview with the Dean of Misery or such and plead my case. His name, I think, was Dr. Llewellyn Jones.
I found myself in the anteroom to his office one afternoon, contemplating my chances. The door opened and a young woman came out. She was crying, real tears streaming down her face.Tears of sadness or relief, I couldn't determine. I entered to meet Dr. Jones, who seemed amiable enough. I presented the scant paperwork that I had, including their admission of error. He skimmed over the pages and said I was fine. He amended the decision. All was well. But I learned that, sometimes at least, one person has the power to transcend all the bureaucratic red tape, and grant your request. That was the lesson learned, and the path I would pursue.
Battle #2 took much more time and was much more crucial: the struggle to obtain health insurance through my employment. Dave's insurance had expired and we had no viable route to any other policies. I'll spare the details of this struggle, but with newly available access to the internet, hours and days of research ensued, plus waiting for some hard-headed guardian of finances in the business office to either retire or die, both of which events eventually transpired. Again, it meant contacting the right person or persons, the decision makers. After 5 long years, we were finally enrolled in a health plan. Victory was sweet, if you can call it that.
My latest, maybe last, battle has come, almost, to a favorable, and life-changing conclusion. Only a matter of time until a person, or group of people, will add the final touches to what has been a 2-year odyssey into the heretofore unknown.
Saturday, December 8, 2018
The Traveling My Pillow
All these exotic places, most of which I've never heard. All but the last through Fed Ex:
11/27 Osseo, MN
11/29 Shabbona, Il
11/30 Cicero, IL
12/02 Swatara, PA
12/03 East Hanover, PA
12/04 Macungie, PA
12/04 Windsor, CT
12/07 Valley Falls Post Office
12/08 Out for Delivery
Arrived evening of 12/08---Stuffed in mailbox.
I perceive there may be a return trip for the little fella.
11/27 Osseo, MN
11/29 Shabbona, Il
11/30 Cicero, IL
12/02 Swatara, PA
12/03 East Hanover, PA
12/04 Macungie, PA
12/04 Windsor, CT
12/07 Valley Falls Post Office
12/08 Out for Delivery
Arrived evening of 12/08---Stuffed in mailbox.
I perceive there may be a return trip for the little fella.
Call in the Night
It's an older TV commercial, old enough to be before cell phones. The young couple is awake, in the late hours, evidently. He is on the phone talking to his mother and she is holding a baby, awakened no doubt by the sound of the ringing telephone.
He is gently and calmly reassuring his mother, and his wife is smiling as she holds the baby. I can't remember what problem the mother had called with, or what product was being advertised. And I can't even hazard a guess as to what market was being sought, but it must have been somewhere in the land of sheer fantasy.
He is gently and calmly reassuring his mother, and his wife is smiling as she holds the baby. I can't remember what problem the mother had called with, or what product was being advertised. And I can't even hazard a guess as to what market was being sought, but it must have been somewhere in the land of sheer fantasy.
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