Duncan's Blog

How's THAT for a sexist title? Thought it might be a good attention grabber
When people talk or ask about hydraulic systems, carburetors, combustion engines, plugs and points, rack and pinion (or however it's spelled), I feel as if they might as well be speaking Sicilian. I have never taken an interest in anything under the hood. Some of you gentle readers might not even remember a time when gas stations had servicemen who pumped gas, checked oil, checked water and checked tire pressure. Needless to say, pumping gas and adding oil are about as far up the chain as I go with regards to car repair.
The old '74 VW convertible Super Beetle got a new engine about a month ago and now it's beginning to make some strange noises. At first, in low gear I heard the sound of light metal hitting light metal. It's the sound of a metalic windchime (we used to call them mobiles). But yesterday there was a G*d awful sound and the sensation that I was dragging a redwood tree underneath the car. Not good. There is speculation that the axil might be loose.
"That's not a good thing, is it?" I asked.
"Uh... No. You don't want a car axil to be loose when you're driving."
"No," I replied with assuredness, "I knew that. You want things to be tight. Well, except the steering wheel."
So it's sitting in the shop on my day off. One of them offered me a ride home (guess there must be some guilt factor after having successfully sold me a new motor). In making small talk I asked where he was from (I knew he was Armenian and I know Armenians are from everywhere).
"Iraq," he said. "We are Armenians from Iraq."
I usually have good responses, but couldn't think of a thing to say. You can't say, "Do you miss it?" or "Do you wish you were there?" Woudln't want to ask if you still have family there. And I'm certainly not going to be engaging in conversation about what's going on there now.
Fortunately I am within walking-distance of the shop. I left the car and said that I didn't need it back right away. Fix it, but PLEASE don't make it expensive!

I was in Europe on the 4th of July 1976. I'll never forget that summer because I got to watch America celebrate its birthday big time. I'm not much of a 4th celebrator. It gets too noisy for me and you always hear about the aftermath (burns and eye trauma). Still, I am proud that we have the day and that folks are still reminded of its significance.

I hate being treated like an idiot. The first time I was in need of coffee at work (they don't brew on the wards) I wound up going to the coffee shop in the cafeteria which happens to be a Starbucks. I quickly look through the list and choose the small Caff? macchiato.

First the woman tells me that they don't offer small. I look again and say, "I see three sizes and three prices. I assume that the lower price is the smaller quantity."

"Yes," she says, "but it's not called small."

"Too bad," I reply, "because that's what I call it in America. The smallest quantity is called small. Next size is medium. Biggest one is large. Call it what you like, but I say small and that's NOT going to change."

"Do you know what a Caff? macchiato is?"

Now she's REALLY pissing me off. "Yes," I say with note exasperation, "it's an Italian beverage. An espresso with a tiny dollop of hot, foamed milk on top."

"Don't get angry," she says in the hope of disarming me, "nobody ever orders it."

Oh, so I'm a nobody I'm thinking to myself.

She has to look up how to make it. I take it over to the milk area and add milk to it.

I've returned to this shop three times and each time I get the same drill. The last time I said I was going to Winchell's. I'm never given a third degree there when I asked for a small coffee with room for milk.

When I retire I think I'm going to open up a doughnut shop.

I seldom question the dictionary... actually I don't think I EVER question the dictionary... but this one is wrong because it's not a noun, it's an adjective.

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1) - Cite This Source
pissed off
?noun Slang: Vulgar. angry or annoyed.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
[Origin: 1935?40]
Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1)
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, ? Random House, Inc. 2006.

I remember when I was in Gestalt therapy, the therapist told me that I needed to get in touch with my emotions and that I needed to express my needs. If something made me angry, I needed to let the accused know how I felt. In this way, the perpetrator could adjust and correct his actions accordingly. I thought this was a crazy thing to do; my rationale was that if I told someone what was pissing me off, that person would PURPOSELY or PURPOSEFULLY do the action JUST to piss me off.
Neurotic? Perhaps. Justified? Yes, indeedie! I've beened banned from channels on the IRC. In my mind I was just minding my own P's and Q's. Even here, where freedom is supposed to be King, I tend to be a bit more reserved with my comments. There are age and cultural differences here. My brand of hippie life is quite different from that of my friends. I won't discuss politics with most Americans because my views range from conservative to radical. I've noticed that even with the basic subjects that I find relatively important there is dissent among the ranks.
GAY MARRIAGE
AFFORDABLE HEALTHCARE FOR ALL AMERICANS
AFFORDABLE HOUSING
NORMAL GAS PRICES
A REALISTIC MINIMUM WAGE
I have managed to make myself as invisible as I can. I think of myself as just a pin prick on the planet. I can be found online and if someone is ingenious enough he/she can probably figure out where I physically live. Let's hope the jury duty people don't !

I talk about the era in which I grew up and--depending on what I consider "growing up" to be--the era changes. I was conveniently born in 1959 so I can honestly say there were remnants of the 50s that were slow in dying off. The 60s were my pre- and elementary school years.
So I used to listen to Sinatra, Belafonte, Johnny Mathis and Tony Bennett in the younger years. In my teens I heard the Fab Four (took me awhile to get to like the sound). And every so often I liked to hear the music of Blondie.

"Dreaming"

When I met you in the restaurant
You could tell I was no debutante
You asked me what's my pleasure
A movie or a measure?
I'll have a cup of tea and tell you of my dreaming
Dreaming is free
I don't want to live on charity
Pleasure's real or is it fantasy?
Reel to reel is living rarity
People stop and stare at me
We just walk on by - we just keep on dreaming
Feet feet, walking a two mile
Meet meet, meet me at the turnstile
I never met him, I'll never forget him

Dream dream, even for a little while
Dream dream, filling up an idle hour
Fade away, radiate

I sit by and watch the river flow
I sit by and watch the traffic go
Imagine something of your very own
Something you can have and hold

I'd build a road in gold just to have some dreaming
Dreaming is free
Dreaming
Dreaming is free
Dreaming
Dreaming is free

"I'll have a cup of tea and tell you of my dreaming"
This is pretty much a line that I understand full-well. Only a tea connoiseur can tell you that the dreams change with the different flavors and aromas that are consumed and inhaled. I had a dream that lasted two days. It was a horror. It was about my being rounded up by the Gestapo, put on a train and taken off to a concentration camp. It's strange because I NEVER had that one before. I also speak and understand German, so that didn't go over too well.
Guess that's my punishment for enjoying a 3-day weekend.