I really love my Google Desktop Sidebar. It has a slew of gadgets to choose from and I've even gotten used to the look of it while I'm on the web. And if I don't, I can minimize it to my taskbar. My favorite feature is the Live-RSS notifyer. As soon as one of you upload a new blog entry, you appear! What a time-saver that is. The customizable slide show isn't bad either.I don't mean this to be a plug, I'm just really jazzed about this thing.
Since I moved this blog back to my domain my visitor count has decreased by at least 50%. Hm. What to do. Most "Increase Your Blog Traffic" articles list the following ploys:
The thing is, I don't keep a blog to harvest hit counts. I keep a blog to communicate. And is a large readership really all that important? I'd rather have a small readership of people who actually like to read my stuff than a huge one of people who are just trying to drive up their blog traffic. That just seems like so much mutual stroking off. All of this has made me wonder lately if blogging isn't simply a way of nabbing a little attention. Back when I was young and chasing down the fame demon (or he was chasing me), I wasn't really after the money, attention, or groupies. I just didn't want to be obscure. I wanted to make a mark, let people know that I existed. Now that I can blog, post pictures and promote my projects, that hunger has sunsided considerably.
So what do you think? Is garnering a large readership important to you? (And now we'll see if this post attracts any attention.)
Honestly, I haven't seen this much rain since I lived in England. Checking the weather channel this morning, I saw that rain is predicted for every single day this week, but then, that screen has looked like this for weeks now. In southern California there is a condition known by us natives as the "June Gloom". Looks like it has moved east this summer. I don't mind, really. I like rain, but this is so unusual.
Throughout my life, I have been given mountains of predictions from adults. From my grandmother to Frank Salazar, many people have graced me with little pearls of wisdom about what it's like to get older. While I appreciated this for the most part, I always filed them away in a directory called, "The Distant Future", but more and more I find myself referring back to them.It's almost as if there is a fame demon who took possession of me at the age of 13. We played a game of cat-and-mouse for 43 years that was fun, exciting, frightening, exhilarating and heartbreaking... sometimes simultaneousy. In recent years, however, I began to feel like Don Quixote just slashing at windmills, and I've at last arrived at a place where I've dropped my sword and wondered, "WTF?"
My mother accurately predicted that someday I wouldn't be able to wear my beloved signature black turtlenecks because the feeling of tightness around my neck would irritate me. My grandmother said that all the dressing up would get old and comfortable clothes with no makeup or jewelry would win out. Frank told me that we come to place in life where we just have to eliminate the clutter, both internally and in our personal environment. My father philosophed about the simple joy of puttering around the home and garden stores.Where, for many, many years, I dreamt of a life of premiers, awards, parties and red carpet media attention, I'm now dreaming of sitting at my favorite sidewalk table enjoying a coffee and people-watching. Instead of stepping over my star on the Walk of Fame, I now look forward to walking my dog through the Stadtpark. While I once imagined being asked for autographs by strangers, I'm happy with private dinner parties with a few close friends who understand and care about me.
Perhaps the fame demon ages as we do, or maybe he just leaves to find someone else. Whichever it is, I am happy to be rid of his grip and I finally understand my father's words, "When you're older, being content isn't such a terrible thing."I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round,
I really love to watch them roll;
No longer riding on the merry-go-round,
I just had to let it go.
(John Lennon)
My dad's baby sister was about 21 years old when I was born. She was a newlywed to boot and she adored me. For the first 4 years of my life she took me with her everywhere she went. She even had me come stay at her and my Uncle Don's house in Reseda on many weekends after they moved to the Valley. When she was 8-months pregnant with their first child, she took me to the community pool, where a kid pushed me into the deep end. Although she was as far along as she was, she dove in and rescued me. She actually saved my life because I very nearly drowned. She told me silly stories; she was the most fun and imaginative adult I knew, and when my life at home was so bad that I had a nervous breakdown as a small child, she was always there. She didn't know what was going on, she always took my side against the other adults.
Understandably, we lost some of our closeness as she and my uncle set into raising their 4 kids, but when Joel was born, she was there for us. She took care of him for me when I needed a break, and she bought him baby clothes. She adored him and she adored me. We both adored her. The last time I saw her, we sat around drinking boxed wine together, talking about the family that was once so close, but had splintered after Grandmother (her mother) died.
Since my father's death in 1993, my aunt and I have corresponded only occasionally. She and my uncle retired to Lady Lake, Florida but I kept tabs on their well-being (via email) during hurricane season. She likewise kept tabs on us during tornado season. Our last communication was on the 6th of last month and everything was fine. Just a few moments ago, however, I received a phone call from Uncle Don, who told me that she passed away this morning. Now, there is more of my family on the Other Side than there is here.
My uncle also told me that he has been diagnosed with cancer and that he begins his chemotherapy tomorrow. My family could never boast happy marriages, but my aunt and uncle were true soulmates. Whenever I have needed role models in parenting, I have always looked at them.I'll see you soon, Aunt Pat. Until then, enjoy your reunion with our family: Grandmother and Grandad, Mom, Dad, Uncle Bob and Aunt Rena, Uncle Dickie, and especially your son, Kenny.
This is the hole that broke my elbow. This is me holding the grass back to show only part of the hole.
This is how the hole looks when I'm not holding the grass back. Any questions?
The gardeners are using two rider-mowers and the workmen on the street are using a jackhammer. Notice that to get this job done, it takes one guy to actually use the jackhammer and three others to watch. No wonder this job has been going on for nearly two years. Here are the jackhammers. Now, just allow your imagination to add the mowers. WTF!
Here is one of the best transformations I've seen. I wouldn't mind doing this to my old HP Pavilion. Seriously.
A couple of months ago I was disappointed to find that the pond had been drained. I was especially sad because this is the pond into which I'd previously dumped my two Plecysauruses (Plecysauri?) a while back. My 
This bird house stands on a pole that I judged to be about 8-feet tall. What intrigued me is the debris line that was left on it after last weekend's flash flood. If you can't see it in the enlarged view, it's up to the 4-feet point, where the middle bolt is.
This table had obviously been entirely covered by the water, judging from the debris on it. I sat here for a while yesterday. Next time, I'm bringing my journal, a book, and some lunch. Oh yes, and some "Off!" Sure wish I had a laptop!
I need some new reads. Don't get me wrong, I L-O-V-E my current favorite blogs, but I need exposure to more ideas and opinions. I enjoy blogs about everyday life and personal observations. I also enjoy travel blogs (if they're current). I don't like political or so-called pundit blogs. I like humor, some introspection, and honesty. And of course, I appreciate eccentricity if it's genuine. What two blogs do you suggest, and why?
So I went for a walk and was out for about an hour. Really, I can't believe that I've lived here this long and I haven't taken advantage of the beauty in my neighborhood. Except for this. This construction is what we've been living with for nearly two years. I've never seen it take this long to widen and repave a 1-mile stretch of country road.I have decided that I want to get a bicycle. I used to love riding the 8 miles from Camarillo to the beach with book, journal, water and sunscreen in the basket. There are so many pretty places to ride here, especially since we're kind of out in the country.
This little lake is only one block from our house. There was a time in my life when I would have spent full afternoons at a spot like this. What happens to us as we get older? We isolate ourselves in our homes and only go out when we have to run an errand. No wonder we're all overweight and sickly.
Wow, it feels like summer. I love it!
Thanks to a friend’s journal entry that I read back in the mid-1980s, I pretty much gave up lobster. He wrote about the “screams” emitting from the boiling pots and I have been traumatized ever since. These days, I can order lobster from a menu, but I could never prepare it myself, and every time I walk by the lobster tank at the supermarket I feel so badly for them. It doesn’t help that their claws are rubber banded shut, either. Well, all that has changed as of Thursday morning when I read that lobsters don’t feel pain.“According to the International Association for the Study of Pain (IASP), when considering the concept of pain, it's the "subjective, emotional response that's considered important" and not the "activation of pain sensors in the body."All right, fine, but it’s that “something different” that now has me worrying. Maybe it's as bad as, or worse than what we feel. Probably not. Still, I feel a little silly for this relative sense of relief and lack of guilt that I’m experiencing. This study also confirms a theory of mine. Like most tree-huggers of the 1960s and 70s, I read The Secret Life of Plants by Peter Tompkins and The Findhorn Garden by the Findhorn Community, and for years I felt guilty every time I had to prune back one of my houseplants.
"Only animals that can experience emotions such as fear, anxiety, distress, and terror can feel what we think of as pain."
This article from ABC News seems to back up these findings. When asked whether lobsters feel pain after being placed in boiling water, Tony Yaksh, a professor of anesthesiology, responded that because they lack the emotional component, lobsters feel something different than pain as we know it. Additionally, an independent study funded by the Norwegian government found that the nervous systems of lobsters are too simple to process pain.”
