Big snowstorm this weekend, the first biggie of the season. I was out in it, experiencing all the hassles it brought, because lo, Saturday is errand day, and if I get off my schedule, the household will grind to a halt. It’s nearly impossible to push a grocery cart through three inches of unplowed snow — did you know this? The freeways were covered and snot-slick. Parking everywhere was a hassle. And yet, I cannot help but sing a merry tune in my heart. Winter is supposed to look like this, and now it does.
Wendy’s not so sold, however. She can’t seem to find the right pooping spot, as virtually anywhere she goes, the snow touches her bottom. Sunday morning she was reduced to using the sidewalk, anathema to every dog I’ve known. Why is that? I’d think, given the communicative value of excrement in dog language, that dropping a load in the middle of a known thoroughfare would be like buying a Super Bowl spot, but not for Wendy. She’s a curb girl, and has been since early on. Riiiight at the curb. I know not why.
After the errands, there was time for a three-beer lunch with a friend, and that was nice, too. This past summer was a pretty terrific one — other than the half-blindness thing — but there’s something to be said for the enforced idleness of a snowy winter afternoon.
This week is the last I’ll work before we go on our holiday break and get some R&R. My goal is to make serious progress in my end-of-year plan to strip as much stuff as possible out of my house, whether through sale, gift or donation. Anything we sell goes into our discretionary fund for an upcoming vacation (New Orleans, February), and anything we give away is karma points.
All of which may be complicated by Wednesday’s cataract surgery. I was asked by the prep team at the hospital if I have an advance directive. I do. I was asked to bring it along.
“Seriously?” I asked. Yes, seriously. I asked the doctor what the worst thing that could happen and he said, “I could drop dead in the middle of your surgery.” I suppose that could happen. The laser would go swinging wildly around the room, slicing off the top of my head or maybe setting something on fire. Won’t Alan be surprised when a grim-faced nurse emerges with the bad news.
Let’s not go there.
So, some bloggage? Not much, but some:
The ADHD racket. I know you will be as shocked as I am to learn that the explosion in ADHD diagnoses followed a concerted effort by two pharmaceutical companies to
sell ADHD drugs make sure every child is properly diagnosed. The story about how Adderall got its name is worth the price of admission. Via NYT.
Would you spend $300 for a Bluetooth speaker that looked like a gramophone horn?
Alternet is generally full of crap, but if you’ve been in a Sears store lately — a once-great American retail institution laid low — it’s hard not to think this story about how the current CEO drove it into the ground doesn’t have at least a germ of truth to it. Yes, Sears’ problems started well before this CEO. But I went there the other day and was shocked by how dingy the place was. If nothing else, the tool department should be spun off and cash-infused. I can live without the slippers and polyester clothes, but not the tools.
Monday! It is here! Let’s embrace it.