I removed yesterday's post, "A Time to Reflect", because it just didn't seem respectful enough so soon after Dad's passing. Not very sentimental, and a little to much digging up things.
Maybe later, I'll post it again.
There was great quote that an anonymous poster posted from Bonfire of Vanities, about sons and fathers, which I would love if he would repost. So true.
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Dad was once a bigger fish in a much smaller pond. When I was 12, he had a heart episode, and it hit the front page of the Bulletin. Chandler and him knew each other, clashed occasionally -- Chandler didn't much like doctors, if I remember rightly.
Anyway, all these years later, Dad is a little fish in a much bigger pond. Even most of the people at the hospital don't know who he was -- I'd mention he was the first pathologist in town, and most of the doctors and nurses would just shrug.
Like goes on. (Until it doesn't.)
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Turns out I'm allergic to bottled Starbucks coffee. I spent two days of the trip tied to the cabin. (Read almost 4 books!) On the third day, I skipped the coffee and was fine. Very inconvenient on trips.
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Actor Mathew Fox is a lucky guy. He won't have his mugshot plastered all over the internet because of his recent D.U.I. in Bend, because the camera at the station was broken. (Of course, his last mugshot was pretty wild, so they'll probably use that, instead.)
I have to say, he was in my store once and seemed like a perfectly nice guy.
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I've given up buying remainder books with the word "zombie" in the title. There are just too many of them.
Also, the term "fantasy" has pretty much lost all meaning, since they now include all Twilight and/or romance novels with supernatural elements under that rubric.
We need some new terminology. I don't much like paranormal romance as a selling description, but it's pretty accurate. (Some women will read romance, but won't buy anything that is branded "romance." Yeah.)
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Senator Lugar loses to Tea Party candidate.
Must be a terrible thing to sell your soul and still lose. The devil had a tricky clause in the contract, apparently. (Orrin Hatch, on the other hand, looks like he signed a much more complete contract with Him.)
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Murder at the Kentucky Derby?
Just goes to show that LUCK was a very unlucky show. Think what they could've done with the publicity...
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Alison Bechdel has written and drawn another graphic novel, ARE YOU MY MOTHER? to go with the book she did about her Dad, FUN HOME.
FUN HOME was the best book I read that year, bar none. The first and last time I've said that about a graphic novel. Amazing book.
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Got a lot accomplished yesterday, gardening. Did half of the backyard. Another few days and I'll have the maintenance part caught up.
I'm going to give it another month or so, and then subdivide some of the surviving plants and fill the holes where the store bought plants didn't survive.
I really need to readjust the sprinklers and even though the installer showed me a couple of times how to do it, it's that mechanical stuff I just can't remember. I may trying Googling it.
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Speaking of Google, I was going through some of my trivia sites, reddit, Flavorwire, etc. etc. and thinking how the internet refers to tons of things I'm don't know anything about. I mean, without the internet, most of this stuff I probably would have never known about.
Or missed.
Anyway, instead of just trying to guess what it all means, the internet has also provided Google, which means I can jump over and ask what "dubstep" means, or look up varieties of deep sea jellyfish to see what creature is on a video, or any number of things.
It's a rabbit hole.
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3 comments:
Chandler liked some doctors. Just didn't like the ones that wouldn't open their wallets for a cause. There were lots of those... still are! He didn't like people that were cheap.
Your dad wasn't cheap.
There was some friction there, I was never sure what it was.
Sherman made the terrible discovery that men make about their fathers sooner or later... that the man before him was not an aging father but a boy, a boy much like himself, a boy who grew up and had a child of his own and, as best he could, out of a sense of duty and, perhaps love, adopted a role called Being a Father so that his child would have something mythical and infinitely important: a Protector, who would keep a lid on all the chaotic and catastrophic possibilities of life. ~Tom Wolfe, The Bonfire of the Vanities
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