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30-Day Challenge -Day 8: Picture of My Room

I can see clearly now…in my room.

Interestingly, the meme doesn’t specify what “my room” is. One can assume it’s the bedroom, of course, but I choose not to, mostly because I’ve never taken a picture of it, to my recollection. and there’s a reason for that; I’m not all that fond of it.

When we first moved into the house in 2000, we really had a choice of two bedrooms. One had whitish wallpaper with red strips on the top half of much of the room, and a nice wood finish on the bottom half, plus around the windows and the storage areas. It was/is a bright room.

The other had this cobalt blue wallpaper, with this representational pattern of tulips, about a fingernail tall, in silver. The wood room had a ceiling fan and sufficient light from the light fixture, while the cobalt room had neither. It was a dark room.

So guess which one became the bedroom? I suspect it was because the cobalt room is in the back of the house, and the wood room, which is the guest room, is in front.

Let me describe the cobalt room. One enters on the south wall, at the southeast corner. On that wall is one of only three electrical plugs, unlike the sufficient number in Woody. Then there’s the armoire, purchased to put all my clothes after The Daughter was born and we removed the walk-in closet from what is now her room. Of course, it’s much smaller, and I never understood why the dresser had to go as well, since keeping my underwear, socks, socks and t-shirts in those slots gave me no options about what t-shirt I might like to wear; it was last in, first out, pretty much. In the southwest corner is a standing lamp.

On the western wall are three bay windows – I like bay windows – with Carol’s dresser in front. On the northern wall is the radiator that essentially serves as Carol’s nightstand, then the headboard to the bed that goes into the room, of course, then, in the northeast corner, my nightstand, with a desk lamp.

Finally, on the eastern wall is MY dresser, which I got about two years ago after I muttered regularly about the inadequacy of the armoire, and a door to Carol’s non-too-large closet.

But things are looking better, literally. Almost a year ago, a ceiling fan was purchased, and it finally got put up a few months ago. But it didn’t have any light bulbs, and a stop at the Home depot proved fruitless. Then a couple of weeks ago, we went back to the HD, and utilizing THREE aides, finally found the right bulbs for the fan. What a difference! I can actually read in that room, whereas I never did anything in that room other than the usual. And the lights make a nifty pattern on the ceiling when the fan is operating, which, this week, is often.
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MY room is probably the office, which, in the process of being cleaned, is messier than it started. So this is a picture of the living room:

Oh, the one good thing about our bedroom: limited number of stuffed animals.

W is for Weird

Steve Silverman was a high school science teacher who wrote a book called Einstein’s Refrigerator and Other Stories from Flip Side Of History. Guess which story shows up as the very first in this book?


I need to tell you about Mike the Headless Chicken. Then I’ll tell you something REALLY weird.

On September 10, 1945, there was a farmer in Fruita, Colorado named Lloyd Olsen who experienced something unusual. Being a farmer, unsurprisingly, from time to time, Lloyd would lop off the head of a chicken, or in this case, a rooster. While the cliche about running around like a chicken with his head cut off is true, this particular poultry was still strutting his stuff the next day. So Lloyd decided to feed the bird, using an eyedropper full of ground-up grain and water, with “little bits of gravel down his throat to help the gizzard grind up the food.”

Mike could hang on high perches without falling, gurgle in a faux crowing style, even attempt to preen his non-existent head.

Sideshow promoter Hope Wade convinced Lloyd to put Miracle Mike on tour, and for a time, he made $4500 per month, from 25-cent viewings, good money even in these days. Mike even made it into LIFE magazine, a hugely popular US periodical in the day.

Guesstimates were that, sadly, Mike died in March 1947, eighteen months after the beheading, from choking on his mucus.

But the legacy of Mike the Headless Chicken lives on. On May 17, 1999, Fruita held its first Mike the Headless Chicken Day, complete with a 5K Run Like a Chicken race. You’ve missed the 2010 event in May, alas, but there’s always next year. Punchline of the festival theme song: “Why did the chicken cross the road? To try to find his head!”

I first became aware of Mike when I watched the October 8, 2000 episode of CBS Sunday Morning, not long after the show aired. Subsequently, I came across a PBS documentary and even a film about Mike.

Now here’s the weird part.

My wife and I have a friend named Kelly. Kelly used to have lots of parties we used to attend before parenthood. At these parties, we met her friend named Steve Silverman. Steve was a high school science teacher who wrote a book, published in 2001, called Einstein’s Refrigerator and Other Stories from Flip Side Of History. Guess which story shows up as the very first in his book? If you guessed Einstein’s refrigerator, you would be wrong.

With the tape from CBS News and the chapter from Steve’s book, my wife put together lesson plans that her junior high students really ate up enjoyed. Read Steve’s chapter about Mike the Headless Chicken here, and other information dubbed by Steve himself as useless here.

ABC Wednesday
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A Solstice Tradition Continues: Ask Roger ANYTHING!


It is once again time for the operator of this blog to hand over the keys, so to speak when you ask him anything you want. And he HAS to answer. Now he may answer with obfuscation, but he cannot outright lie.

Here are some examples:
What is my favorite song performed by one artist, made more popular by a subsequent artist, but the version I prefer is by the former? (Got that?)

The answer: I Heard It Through the Grapevine, a big, #2 hit for Gladys Knight and the Pips, only to be trumped by Marvin Gaye’s much slower, much more successful, take. In part, I felt bad for the Pips when they would go on the road and people would ask them, “Why are you doing that Marvin Gaye song?”, which had to be irritating to GK&P, enough so that they left Motown at their first opportunity. Moreover, the resurrection of Gaye’s version during the Big Chill movie’s popularity made it become actually irritating to me for a time.

(Rather how I feel about the once perfectly fine Brown-Eyed Girl by Van Morrison, and other songs I hear too often.) But tell me: in this version, can YOU only really hear Marvin’s vocal, as I do? THIS is really cool.

Who was I rooting for in the NBA playoffs?

Actually, I don’t really follow the NBA all that much. That said, I started tiring of hearing about the “inevitable” Cleveland/LA Lakers finals, so I ended up rooting for the Boston Celtics, pretty much as a reaction to the pundits.

Post your questions in the comments, or e-mail me. I’ll use your name unless you specifically request otherwise. Of course, if you don’t leave your name, my chances of being snarky are DRAMATICALLY increased. Sooner, rather than later, I’ll answer your questions in this blog.

Oh, yeah, and since a question (of five words or more) is considered a comment, you’ll also get an entry in my GIVEAWAY; see sidebar for details.

Drug Money

It becomes clear to my sister and me that since my mother had the check in hand, and that who knows how long it would take A-Z to reissue a check – and they don’t relish the expense of doing this again…


The good news is that a check came to my parents’ house in North Carolina this week. It was a substantial amount, in the low four figures, in response to some class-action lawsuit settlement; not positive which drug was involved. The company issuing the check is a pharmaceutical company who I won’t name; we’ll just call it A-Z.

The slightly not-so-good news is that the check is made out to Leslie H. Green, my father, who is deceased, has been deceased for nearly ten years. This is quite annoying since my mother filled out paperwork back in April informing A-Z of this fact. At least the check came to my father c/o my mother, but it doesn’t make it any easier to cash.

At my sister’s request, I contacted A-Z. After going through a myriad of telephone menus, I reached a real person, who transferred me to another real person, who expressed her condolences at my father’s passing. “How long ago did he die?” “Ten years.”

I was then transferred to the nurse. This was not for MY benefit, but rather CYA for A-Z since the deceased (i.e., my father) died around the time he was taking their medication. The nurse wants to know when he died – “August 10, 2000” – and from what “prostate cancer”. After she was done, she too expressed her condolences at my father’s passing.

Then she transferred me to someone who was going to transfer me to the person who could address my question. She expressed her condolences at my father’s passing.

I was told I would be on hold for three minutes, then someone would pick up and help me. Instead, I was on hold for two minutes, then I was disconnected.

OK, so I call A-Z back. After eventually getting a real person again, I conveyed to her why I had called, and also that I had already spoken to the nurse. I was transferred to someone who was going to transfer me to someone else when I indicated that was the point I had gotten disconnected the LAST time I called. She stayed on the line the full three minutes (or more – I didn’t time it) that I was waiting, then made the transfer, after expressing her condolences at my father’s passing.

I explain the situation to this guy. He says my mom should deposit the check. I say my mom no longer has an account in my father’s name, so she cannot deposit the check. He said that she could mail back the check, but that she would need to write VOID on it, write a letter explaining the situation, provide his death certificate, provide proof that she is his primary heir, etc.

As I explained this to my sister, it becomes clear to us that since my mother had the check in hand, and that who knows how long it would take A-Z to reissue a check – and they don’t relish the expense of doing this again – they should try to deposit it. If that didn’t work, they (my mother and sister) would set up an estate account for my father and deposit the check; this might require setting up a DBA of some sort, but it would be worth it.

So I spent a half-hour during the week leading up to Father’s Day being reminded that this is the 10th Father’s Day I’ve spent without my father. I knew that already, of course, but I did want to thank A-Z, who COULD have, I’m thinking, written the check to my MOTHER, and keep me from all this rigamarole. Just saying.
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I state this every year, but it is no less true for that: I wish my father had had the opportunity to meet my daughter.

 

Macca Is 68

Paul McCartney hadn’t been that controversial since he recorded Give Ireland Back to the Irish back in 1972.


I figure that I should mention Paul McCartney on his birthday every year, as long as he’s still around. Fortunately, this year, there’s the big news to talk about.

That, of course, would be him being named the third Library of Congress Gershwin Prize winner, after Paul Simon and Stevie Wonder. At an event with President Obama, McCartney created a bit of bluster with the right-wing bloggers when he made a joke at the expense of Obama’s precessor, GW Bush. Horrors! Paul hadn’t been that controversial since he recorded Give Ireland Back to the Irish back in 1972.

The event will be televised on PBS on July 28.

Here’s a live recording of Cosmically Conscious, written back when Paul was in India in 1968. A snippet of this song appeared at the end of his 1993 Off the Ground album

Check the June 17, 2010 episode of Coverville, #683; Brian Ibbott has promised a McCartney cover story.
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It’s also Roger Ebert’s 68th birthday. He just won a Webby award, indeed was named person of the year; he needed just three words in a dead language to express his appreciation of the honor. While he’s still writing his fine movie reviews, it is his journal about American flag T-shirts, racism, alcoholism, death, and how Twitter has empowered him now that he cannot speak that has been the truly amazing part of his narrative.

Ramblin' with Roger
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