#56 Why Still "JayKolb"?

People have asked me why I am still using "JayKolb" as my primary email id.  I have acquired many of my new friends in just the last few years, and, having never met Jay, they don't associate that name with me, especially since I had always retained my premarital last name.

When I was settling Jay's estate, the lawyer told me that I would have to change all the utility, credit card, and subscription accounts - everything that wanted money - from his name to mine.  She said it was illegal to leave things that depended on creditworthiness in his name.  Apparently, companies don't like to find out they're trying to collect past-due accounts from someone who isn't available to sue.

So, one day I called the telephone company to have the billing changed to my name.  I wanted to leave Jay's name on the numbers in the phone book, though.  So many friends had left the area, and I wanted them to be able to find me if they returned to visit, so I didn't want the numbers unlisted, but I didn't want my name in the phone book, either, especially not now that we have actual house numbers.   The phone lady said they couldn't do that.  The listing would now be in my name or it would be unlisted, but they couldn't use another name.  I tried "Oops - here he is - my mistake - he's ok - change it back to his name", but she wasn't buying it.  So Jay's name was removed from the telephone book.

I had an unexpectedly bad reaction.  I felt like I was erasing all traces of him. I went into a three-month depression, and I didn't take his name off anything else.  So bills and renewals still arrive addressed to him, and I pay them, same as since the day we were married, and unless something happens that the bills don't get paid, no one will know any different.

Odd.  It was two years ago that I removed him from the phone book, and I still choke up thinking about it.

===================

What got me onto this topic was thinking about a friend whose husband died a few months ago.  She's about my age, he was quite a bit older, he'd been one of her college professors, and they'd married shortly after her graduation.  She'd never been alone.  They had no children, and she is estranged from most of what's left of her siblings. Within days of his death, she started throwing things out, giving things to charity, and getting appraisals on everything else, not just things personal to him, but her things too, even things like (her) family heirlooms.  She is more than comfortable financially, there's no need to sell anything.

We, her friends, watched this and worried.  We asked if she was thinking of moving, and all she said was "this house is too big...", but she didn't seem to have anything else in mind.  We know she loves that house - she designed it.  We suggested that maybe she should get a dog, or a cat (she had loved a cat that had died several years before), but she won't consider it.  She doesn't seem deeply depressed, she has us over for lunch occasionally, and she still enjoys cooking (Thursday we got homemade pizza as opposed to sandwiches, for example), but we are worried.  It's almost like she's not planning to be around much longer.

She firmly believes that when you die, you are gone, done, finished, so it's not like she's planning to join him or anything.   NJKC and I are determined to get her to go to dinner at the Red Onion with us next Thursday.  It's always been hard to get her out of the house - she and he were both pretty much stay-at-home - but we feel like we have to show her that there is still a world out there. 

I'm worried that at some point she's going to come out of whatever funk she's in and realize what she has thrown out, and go into a tail spin, sort of like I did when I felt that I was erasing Jay.  I kept his down jacket when I donated all his suits and coats, because the down jacket was so much a part of him, and I loved to see him in it.  His favorite beat-up sneakers are under the bed, his old jeans will become a quilt, and I had some links taken out of his watch and I wear it occasionally.  I don't think she has kept much of anything.

#55 Friday's Storm

Congratulate me.  I am warm and nothing has exploded (see previous entry).  However, once I got down to the basement, I realized I haven't cleaned the furnace filter yet this year.  You're supposed to spray it with a hose every summer, but my water pressure isn't high enough to do a good job, so I take it to one of those do-it-yourself car wash places, lean it against the wall, and hit it with the high pressure sprayer.  (Every time I do that, everyone there says "Oooo, what a good idea!")  I'll try to get that done during those 80 degree days we're supposed to have next week.   

I forgot to tell you, Daughter, about Friday night.  As predicted, it started raining early that evening.  At about midnight, I realized I hadn't picked up the day's mail yet.  I opened the front door to check whether I needed an umbrella, and I couldn't figure out what was going on.  It was pitch black out, even though we were only two or three days off a full moon, so I couldn't see anything at all. The air was still, but the sound was absolutely incredible.  It sounded like Niagara Falls out there.  All three porch lights are, as usual, burned out (yeah, it's on the to-do list, I picked up replacement bulbs last week), but through the blackness I could (barely) see that there was no overflow downpour from the gutters.  Strange.  I grabbed an umbrella anyway.

I don't walk down the driveway at night anymore - every little sound from the woods scares me, and I figure if there are any rabid raccoons or foxes around a flashlight will drive them to attack (not outlandish - people hereabouts have been trapped in their cars by rabid beasties - shades of Cujo! (or however that's spelled)) so at night I drive down for the mail. 

I stepped off the porch, and there was no rain!  No wind!  What was causing the Niagara Falls roar was the very tops of the trees whipping back and forth.   Apparently there was wind up there, but not down here.  Very strange, especially since we're so high.

I almost couldn't see the driveway surface for wild cherries.  The wind had stripped the trees lining the drive.  The cherries are mostly pits - tiny, hard, and perfectly round - I depend on foraging birds and rodents to keep the drive safe for walking.  But Friday night, the van started sliding on the little ball bearings, and I couldn't stop it.  I was afraid I would slide right through the curve and over the bank at the bottom.  The van didn't stop sliding until it hit the grass sideways, and the tires finally caught hold. 

I didn't go out again until today, to the PO and drug store, and there are huge trees and branches down everywhere, in the LOW areas.  But not up here.  Very strange. 

I worry a lot about wind.  The black locust trees are all sick.  Cornell Extension says it's some virus or fungus or something, but once the trees get weakened by that, the leaf miners, twig miners, and trunk borers all move in.  I'm afraid all my locusts are dying, and I've got probably 70 or more of them, at least 15 of which must be removed if they die because they'd likely endanger the house, street, or driveway.  Another dozen could fall on the lawn. 

A lot of the old mansions and farms around here have huge old black locusts lining the drives and fields, for an interesting reason:  black locust is resistant to rot, so was often used for fence posts, and believe it or not, even when cut, and split, and used as fence posts, it will actually take root and grow!  So there are lines of perfectly spaced black locusts where there used to be fence lines.

I really don't want to think about it.  I wish there were something we could do.

PS - AOL News had a headline that went something like: "Ivan Spawns Killer Tornados".  I read that four times, because the first three times, I got "Ivan Spawns Killer Tomatoes", and it sort of did and didn't make sense. 

#54 So Cold!

It's about 67 degrees in the house now, midafternoon, and I'm sooooo cold.  Don't tell me sweaters.  Sweaters don't keep my nose and cheeks and fingers warm.  I didn't sleep well last night because my nose was cold, and I can't sleep when my nose is cold. 

I was hoping there'd be enough sun today that the house would warm up, but it doesn't seem to be happening.  It's supposed to get into the 80s in another few days, so I've been trying to put off switching to the furnace as long as possible, because once I go to heat, there's no more air conditioning. 

The A/C is a ground-water heat pump, and the heat is an oil furnace, and they share the ducts.  Switching from one to the other involves swapping baffles in the ducts (not easy), figuring which faucet handle to turn which way to cut off the heat pump water (every time I face it, I think "I should mark this thing", and then after doing it, I think "Oh, I'll remember that next time...", and then the next time I think "I should mark...".  Not too smart.  This time, I will mark it after I trace all the pipes!  I promise!), flipping switches in the electric box, opening the oil line, switching thermostats, and reprogramming the heat thermostat.  Then I spend the next two days worrying that I got it wrong, and the basement will flood or the furnace will blow up.   Or both. 

I have decided I'd rather be too warm next week than too cold now.  I am going downstairs to switch to the furnace.  Wish me luck.

(What shall I tie on the pipe to mark it?  Hmmm.  I think I'll eat some chocolate* first while I think about this.)

*comfort food.

#53 Miss Thunderfoot

Jay and I acquired Miss Thunderfoot about a year before his diagnosis, probably late 1997. 

She had been found by a friend outside the grocery store, starving, and begging people going in and out of the store to take her home.  He said she was trying so hard, and people were just kicking her aside, so he took her home.  Unfortunately, it didn't work out with his other cats, so Jay and I adopted her.

She had blue eyes and long soft gray and white fur, and she fell instantly and madly in love with Jay.  I was just the food-disher-outer and litterbox cleaner.  If I tried to touch her, she would duck out from under my hand.  I suspect that she had been badly mistreated by a former female owner, because I'd never seen a cat before who was so obviously afraid to get on furniture.  Jay put her on the bed one time, and she totally freaked.  She asked for food by scratching on cardboard, like "See?  I'm good.  Can I eat now, please?".  (It took us a short while to figure out that the only thing she would scratch was cardboard.)

When Jay was home, she was never more than two feet from his ankles.  It took him some time to convince her that it was ok to sit on his lap while he was at the computer, and once she got comfortable with that, she was always on his lap - but only when he was wearing jeans.  If he had anything else on, she wouldn't stay no matter how many times he lifted her up. 

The friend had been calling her "Lady", but to us, that's a collie.  Jay wanted a regal feminine name, so he tried "Princess" and "Duchess", but they didn't feel right.  I told him that if we just waited a week or two, she'd name herself.  Her food dish was in the back bathroom to protect it from the dogs, and at mealtimes she'd race me from the kitchen through the livingroom and down the hall.  The floors were covered with a dense pile carpeting over thick padding, but when she was running for dinner, she sounded like a bowling ball on hardwood.  So that's how she became Miss Thunderfoot.  The name fit also because her gray fur was like a thundercloud, and both dogs were afraid of Thunder (both kinds). 

The last eight months of Jay's illness, when he was in the hospital bed in our bedroom, I tried several times to persuade her that it was ok to get on the bed with him (I'd chance claws on the air mattress).  I thought it would be good for Jay to have her there, but she wouldn't stay.  I even tried spreading out a pair of Jay's jeans for her.  ("Look!  Jay's jeans-lap!")  It may have been her early training, or it may have been that the tubes in the air mattress were constantly changing pressure (to prevent bed sores).  Instead, she virtually lived under his bed.  She slept right under his head.  I'd tell him she was there, and he'd say yes, he could hear her breathing. 

After Jay was gone, it was a good three months before she would allow me to touch her, a year before she would allow me to pick her up and hold her briefly.  I had a pile of Jay's old jeans in a corner, saved to be made into a quilt, and she slept every night curled next to the jeans.  The funeral director had told me that the newspapers wouldn't list pets as survivors in an obituary, so I had sneaked her in as "his ward, Miss Kit Thunderfoot".  Let the world wonder.  After such devotion, it was only fitting.  

After two years and ten and a half months, she now sleeps on the foot of my bed.  She follows me around, and if she loses me, she'll "Murrow?" until I answer.  She allows me to pet her (at first just the top of her head, but we have gradually worked around to everywhere but her belly), and when I crawl into bed, she'll come up and ask for a good forehead scratch before going to sleep.  She has stopped struggling when I pick her up, and last week she actually settled into my arms, tucked her head under my chin, and purred! 

She still won't sit on my lap, jeans or no.   

#52 More Personality Tests

I just took two personality tests.  One was "What Movie Are You?", and the other was "What World Leader Are You?".   The web site was selling preemployment and job counseling type tests, and I think these freebie tests are sort of like a lure.  I opted for high accuracy (the most questions) and I answered the questions as honestly as I could.  Many of the same questions appeared in both tests, and I answered them the same. 

I got "Apocalypse Now" and Mother Theresa. 

More stuff I don't understand. 

And I'm supposed to be smart!

#51 Can't Afford to Get Married?

Being a little old lady, I can get away with asking young couples, "So.  You've been together six years.  You have two kids.  Why aren't you married?"  The answer I almost always get is, "We can't afford to get married yet."  I won't accept that, because especially with children, there are so many financial and social advantages and safety nets with marriage that you can't afford not to be married.   Things happen.  Catastrophe is always just around the corner.

A marriage license costs maybe $20.  Blood tests, if required, cost maybe $50 total, less if you have insurance.  The state-sanctioned official costs only a gift in a discreet white envelope.  So within days of a decision, for probably less than $100 (six pizzas), and in the company of two friends, you can be standing in front of a JP or judge or pastor of your choice, and walk out married.  Jay and I were married by the town judge.  We both wore jeans.  Daughter presented me with a wildflower bouquet.  What's not to afford?  If your friends and relatives have been content not to attend a wedding thus far, they may be a bit disappointed, but if they aren't happy for you now, they didn't deserve to be invited to a fancy reception anyway.  So, what can't you afford?  If you really feel that you have to have a huge wedding, fine.  Renew your vows when you can afford it.  

Being a little old lady, I can poke and prod and scold and get away with it.  When I talk with the males, when it starts out with "can't afford", it ends up with an admission that they are afraid of "being taken for everything I have."  It's not the cost of a wedding that concerns them, it's the cost of a divorce!  They also often express concern that once married, "she will change, she doesn't have to be nice anymore" (implication being no more sex on demand), which will lead to unhappiness and eventual divorce. 

When I talk with the females, it's a lot harder to get beyond "can't afford".  Some of them act like not having a huge wedding is somehow getting cheated, and by darn they're going to hold out for it!  These are usually the same ones who also insist on a huge bank-busting engagement ring.  If they can't get past that, I can see why their men don't trust them.  Others insist that his dedication to thechildren is enough, they themselves  prefer to remain independent, they don't want to be "owned" or "controlled".  Apparently, they don't trust him with their persons, and the possibility of catastrophe has never concerned them.

You shouldn't marry someone you don't love, and who doesn't love you back equally.  You can't marry someone you don't trust.  I see a lack of trust.  They're having babies, but they're not talking to each other about the things that matter to them. 

Of course, this isn't the only reason some couples don't marry.  Sometimes it's just stupidity, like the couple on TV this morning.  He had been in a very bad fire, had been burned over 90% of his body.  Very badly scarred and melted.  No fingers.  Practically no face.  On permanent disability.  She had met him during his physical therapy.  They had been together five years, and had one child together.  They were obviously in love and in trust.  They wanted to get married, but "couldn't" because they "couldn't afford it", and because her family didn't accept him.  Her mother had said she "could do better", and her extended family didn't want him at family functions (perhaps because he was hard to look at and he scared the children?).  So that's why they hadn't gotten married. 

Huh?  "Can't afford" in this case didn't appear to be covering any relationship deficiencies.  Must be a lack of imagination.  And the family's not accepting him didn't prevent them from living together for five years and having a baby.  Seems like that would have been the hard part.  They got married when the TV show paid for the critically important white dress and tux, flower bower, reception hall, dinner, and dance band, and persuaded the mother to go to the wedding (which wasn't hard.  They just said "why not go to the wedding?" and she said "Ok.").

Sigh.  There's so much I don't understand. 

Apparently there's some confusion between the formalization of a commitment, and the throwing of a big party.  Maybe it goes back to a time when a marriage was not a personal commitment between individuals, but was a political joining of families.  The families came together to join the two.  But hey!  That's when brides were SOLD! (For all intents and purposes....that's where the "giving away of the bride" came from.)

#50 Eeek-a-mouse! Part 1

I just spent some time writing an entry about the local village festivals, and how they are marred by parking and traffic problems and trash nonlocal sidewalk vendors, and how it would be so simple to make them much better.  Then I realized I wasn't really writing about the festivals, but about my frustration at seeing things that could be better, but being unable to do anything about it.  There's a lot more traffic and a lot more people than even 10 years ago, when I first moved here, but the format hasn't changed at all.   The same people run these things every year, and they've done it the same way every year, and if you dare to suggest any change they get all pissed off.  The reaction to any criticism is "Look, I volunteered for this, and I'm doing the best I can, and if you don't like it, YOU do it! (slamming the folder on the table.)"  I'm not paranoid.  That's from the newspaper.   Sigh.

The Hardscrabble Day festival was 9/11.  I wonder if there was anyone on the committee who wondered if maybe another date might be better, and what the reaction to that suggestion was.

So anyway, I deleted that whole entry, and now I'm writing about what my REAL frustration is.

Part of my frustration stems from some conversations I had recently.  I was frustrated by some things happening (or more accurately NOT happening) in the local Mensa chapter, and brought them to the attention of one of the officers.  (One of my concerns was that the activities calendar on the official website hadn't been updated in two months.  I discovered it when my copy of the newsletter was late again, and I went to the website to find out what was on the schedule.)  His response was "the same thing we tell people at work", that if I wasn't willing to step forward and do it myself, I shouldn't complain that it's not getting done.  Huh?  I do not think that was an appropriate response.

He works for the "large computer manufacturer" I used to work for.  That response was typical of lower level managers in that company.  You were not allowed to point out problems unless you also provided a solution.  If you don't have a solution, shut up.  We don't want to hear it, no matter how serious the problem.  People who warned of dangers without a solution in hand were accused of "Eeek-a-mouse".  You didn't want to be branded an eeek-a-mouse.

One of my friends used to be my umpteenth-level manager in said company (before we knew each other personally).  She "owned" our product, one of the big-iron software systems, and is now retired.  I mentioned to her the response I had got from the Mensa officer, and that it was so typical of  the reaction you got in the Company.  She asked for examples, and I gave her several. 

The most frustrating for me was the time we were working on three releases all at once.  Usually, we worked on one release.  We'd use the prior release of the system as a base, and add "line items" (new functions) to that base.  Line items were tested individually as they were developed successively, and when they passed all their functional tests, they were not specifically tested again until eventually, toward the end of the schedule, all the line items were retested together on the completed integrated system.  Sometimes during the integration test, the new line items interfered with each other, and tests that had worked fine against the earlier individual line items choked when run again with later-developed items added in.  Example - a later line item changed a control block (think "specific location in storage") which an earlier line item used.  Conflict.  Thud. 

For some reason I forget (probably having to do with hardware availability dates) we found ourselves with three separate releases all in development and test at the same time (well, in rapid succession).  We'd never done that before. 

To explain what was happening, let's call the base (old) version "O", and each of the new releases "1", "2", and "3".  All the releases in development were being built on a Release O base.  Let's say there were 10 new line items in each release.  As each line item completed its individual functional testing successfully, it would be "promoted" to the next release base(s).  Remember that additional line items were being simultaneously developed on all three releases.  So when line items A, B, and C from Rel 1 finish testing, they would be "slipped in under" items M and N on Rel 2, which themselves have already completed functional test, and Rel 1 items A, B, and C and Rel 2 items M and N would be slipped in under Rel 3 item X, which has also completed functional test.  And so on, as items are developed and tested.  Sort of like shuffling one deck of cards into another deck.  Note that item A has never been tested with B installed, let alone with M, N, or X.   But (bell goes off in head) line item X has never been functionally tested with A, B, M, or N installed.  Only the last item to complete functional testing on any one release has been tested with all the previous line items installed.   

Now, I'll bet anyone reading this can tell me already what the problem is.  You may have had a growing sense of horror reading it.   If you still don't know, go back up to the paragraph that begins "The most frustrating..." and reread from "Sometimes during the integration test...".  Now think about the integration test for Rel 3. 

Normally, all the line items in a release are functionally tested on a solid base.  Rel 2 and 3 line items were functionally tested on a fluid base!  Worse, there was no procedure in place to ensure that on-the-fly fixes to earlier line items got "bubbled up"!   I was absolutely horrified to discover that the functional tests for A would not be rerun on Rel 2 or Rel 3 until the end of their respective schedules.  By then, Rel 1 would be already headed out the door. 

That was due to oversight, lack of manpower, and adherence to old one-release procedures.  Also, there was a different manager for each release, and they all had tunnel vision (as in "Not My Problem"). 

At the time, I was a lowly Senior Associate Programmer in a test department.  I started with my own manager, and eventually went to every development, design, test, and planning first-line manager.  They all said "Holy @#$%!!"  They each agreed that this was BIG trouble.  Without additional people to run additional functional testing, there was NO WAY Releases 2 and 3 could make their schedules, and there was no way they were going to get additional people.  Not one of them took it up the management line.  I think they all planned to just blame it on someone else.  They kept looking to me to come up with a solution.  "Whadda we gonna do!  Whadda we gonna do!"  I said we could head off some of the problem by ensuring that fixes got bubbledup, by perhaps building bases dynamically.  So a department was scraped together to do just that.  (Later, the guys who implemented it got awards.  I didn't.  I was blamed for the necessity.  Sigh.) 

The danger to the schedule was never "taken up the line" probably because no one had a solution, so they knew there was no point.  "Eeek-a-mouse!"  Maybe they hoped it would all be a false alarm.  So upper management was taken completely by surprise when Rel 2 slipped the schedule badly, and Rel 3 completely blew it, badly.  Bad scene all around.  Everybody blamed everybody else, and they all blamed me.  Kill the messenger.

__________________________

Each entry in the AOL journals is limited to 25,000 characters, including HTML, and they don't bother to give a running count, so rather than chance losing anything, I'm going to break here and continue in the next entry.

#49 Eeek-a-mouse! Part 2.

So, when I told my friend, the retired product-manager, this story (she had moved on to a corporate job before this incident, but said she had heard about it), she showed why she had been a decent manager.  She asked "Why do you think that is?  The eeek-a-mouse thing?"  I said that I thought it was the corporate culture.  You are not allowed to notice or report any problems unless you know how to fix it.  Perhaps it's that if you don't know enough about it to know how to fix it, then you don't know enough about it to judge its importance, or to justify diverting resources to it.   So you have to find out enough about it to know how to fix it before you know enough about it to report it.   But that's an attempt to apply a logical explanation to something that defies logic.  That may be how it started out, but it has been continued and ingrained beyond logic.   It pervades all levels.  You are simply not allowed to bring a problem without also bringing a solution.  She said that the corporate culture had changed a lot in the past few years.  She didn't think that was still true.  I pointed out that I had just heard it from a current high-level employee.  It's still there.

She then asked why, in my opinion, the managers back then didn't warn upper-level management about the looming problems with those releases.   Well, it was the eeek-a-mouse thing - plus there was still a slim chance they'd make the schedules.  If they didn't, they could all point the fingers of blame around the circle.  And another bit of corporate culture - although the Company talks big about product quality being most important, or usability being critical, or customer service being our goal, or whatever, everything else will be sacrificed to the schedules.  Always!  All the pretty words go right out the window when the schedule is threatened.  Compared to the release schedules, everything else is so much fluff.  It is more important to put out a piece of crap on schedule (you can fix it with updates later) than to put out quality when it's ready. 

It was kind of funny.  She wanted desperately to deny that, to insist that quality was primary, but after some defensive blustering, she pointed out that the release schedules were dictated from above.  That a product manager couldprotest that it would take at least 80,000 man-hours to do something, and the word would come down that even though you have 100 people available to work on it, thou shalt have it ready by ...600... hours away.  Or else!  She said that software schedules were set by hardware schedules.  She didn't know why the hardware schedules were so inflexible.  At this point, our conversation was interrupted by life.  (Actually, death.  The batteries in her phone died.)

I know why hardware schedules are inflexible.  I'm surprised she didn't know, although she probably figured it out later.  Hardware schedules are dictated by the marketing people.  The hardware development people are under the same schedule pressure as the software people.  Hardware heads will roll if the hardware isn't available when marketing says they need it, same as software heads will roll if the software support for the device isn't ready when hardware says they need it.  It all comes down to the marketing people, the salesmen.  The salesmen think it's more important to have the FIRST frazzmo out there than to have the BEST frazzmo later, because no one's going to replace a working frazzmo with another, even if it's supposed to be better.  If it's a piece of crap, you can fix it later on the customer floor, but you've got to get it onto that floor, first!  Get the contract signed! 

I don't know if they're right or not.  Seems like a consistent reputation for quality ought to figure in there somewhere.  It certainly does for my personal purchases.  But having spent some time in the field, working with the salesmen, I know that is how they think.  It's not surprising that the Company started to run into big trouble when they began to cut back on customer service.   It was the customer service that made good on the salesmen's overblown promises and their forced hardware/software schedules.  Without on-site service, the lack of inherent quality became painfully obvious.

How does the gazillion-dollar salaried management allow this to happen?  Snort!  Salesmen think THEY are the ones who make money for the company.  In their opinion, hardware folks are the deliverymen, software folks are the chambermaids, and customer service are the garbagemen.  Upper management is all ex-salesmen.  Salesmen who impressed other salesmen.

Of course, I'm speaking from the big-iron days.  Maybe some things have changed.  But I doubt it.  Not after being told by a current employee who should know better that if I wasn't willing to step forward and do something myself, I shouldn't complain that it's not getting done. 

     

#48 Choice is not always a choice.

In general, things I say are often taken in a way I don't at all mean them to be taken.  I think maybe because listeners interpret what I say in the context of what they are thinking at the moment.  They think I am headed the same direction they're heading -but I'm often looking at things from a slightly different angle.  I don't say what they expect, but they hear (or read) what they expect.  So that's why one of the things I like about Mensa is that my comments are not (well, not quite as often) misunderstood.  Therefore I was surprised when I said something at lunch recently that was not immediately understood. 

The conversation had veered into general politics, in particular into the influence of the religious right on conservative thinking, and the role of religion in decision-making, and eventually into Roe v Wade.  My comment was, "The thinking is obvious.  It's not ok to kill an unborn baby.  You have to wait until they're old enough to put on a uniform, then you can kill as many as you want to."   I was surprised when it took a minute.  No, I was not saying that it's ok to kill young men in uniform.  Sheesh!

By the way, to reiterate my personal opinion, abortion is a BAD THING.  I hate that there are people who treat it casually.  I hate that it exists as an option.  On the other hand, women MUST have the right to control their own lives, to determine the uses to which their bodies are put.  (The old saw about keeping women barefoot and pregnant wasn't a joke.  Pregnancy was not so very long ago one of many powers that men exercised over women.)  Therefore, we must keep abortion legal until we have eliminated all the reasons that some women feel an abortion is necessary.  It's unfair to do otherwise!  

So don't work against abortion - not yet, anyway - work for inexpensive and convenient daycare at hours that suit the job, equal pay, safe birth control, cheap prenatal care, paid maternity leave, guaranteed jobs and continued seniority over the leave, gentle deliveries, paid paternal leave, etc.  Work to find out why women turn to abortion, how did they get into such a desperate position, and work to eliminate those conditions. 

The antiabortion folks terrorize women with stories about bad dreams for years afterward - but women who give babies up for adoption have bad dreams, too.  Don't forget that for every picture of a dead fetus, there is a picture of an abused, broken, unloved toddler.  Equally as bad as abortion is having and keeping a baby you don't want, can't afford, and aren't mature or committed enough to raise.  Instead of outlawing abortion, we need to eliminate male (sorry guys, but it's still true) physical, emotional, and financial control over women's destinies, and make it easier for a woman to be a mother, and only by conscious choice. 

Having been a single mother, I know whereof  I speak.  Daycare was my biggest problem.  The "large computer manufacturer" didn't feel at all guilty about assigning huge amounts of overtime and requiring third shift lab time on short notice, and yet refusing to provide 24-hour company-sponsored daycare.  They made it very difficult to be both a good parent and a good employee.  Extremely high-stress.  And if  I'd had a minimum wage at-will job, it would have been impossible.  In that situation, you can't even complain.  When you live paycheck to paycheck, a parent can't just quit and look for a more accomodating job.  There's no cushion, and no leeway.

I am annoyed that so many people think children are of utmost importance, until they are asked to help take care of them.   Then, it's your problem, not theirs.  I don't think anyone should speak out against abortion until they have adopted several unloved babies, and have taken desperate pregnant women into their homes, and have given material help to establish decent daycare.   Otherwise, they are just looking down their noses, and sneering "Well, if you lived like I do, you wouldn't have gotten into that position in the first place."  First, make it possible for them to live like you do.  Then you can complain when they don't. 

#47 Comments

I had to remove permission to leave comments on this journal - they were getting too big, and at least one used my real name!  These journals are available to everyone on AOL, so I prefer to stay relatively anonymous.   Plus, anyone on AOL can mine comments to get information on YOU! 

Since most posters already send me email anyway, I figured ending comments would be easier than explaining the rules, and since I don't read comments right away, email is more timely (and safer).    

What I didn't realize was that removing future ability also automatically removed all past comments.  (There were only two that I had planned to delete.)  Bleck!  So anyway, from now on, if there's something you want to remark on, send me comments via email.  (And don't ask what I planned to delete - I won't tell.)

#46 I Like Nerds

I urge everyone who has ever known a nerd to read http://www.udel.edu/bkirby/asperger/  Click on "Related Disorders" on the left, then select "Kids Called Nerds: Challenge and Hope For Children With Mild Pervasive Developmental Disorders".

Nerds (the pocket-protector types) make the best lovers.  One-on-one, they tend to be funny, intelligent, honest, faithful, sensitive, thoughtful, considerate, and best of all, grateful.

Jay was a very sweet nerd.

#45 Wanted for Crimes of ... Drooling?

I went to the county fair (maybe two weeks ago?  I forget exactly when.)  It was kind of  a surprise.  I'm way behind in reading the newspaper again, and I'd been passing the billboard at the end of the bridge for weeks without reading it and then one day I read it, and the fair was already half over.  So I went the next day, a Thursday.  It was ending on Sunday, and I didn't want to go Friday or over the weekend because it would be so crowded.   It was crowded anyway.  Where on Earth did all those people come from?  On a Thursday!     

There was a booth on the midway where you could get a sepia toned photo taken, in costume.  The theme was "Wanted for Crimes of Passion", and you'd be posed with a pistol in one hand and a bottle of Johnny Walker Black in the other, and "NO SMILING!"  After watching a while, I decided I wanted one.  I envisioned me mean and a little sexy - sorta "Come up and see me sometime ... but ya better wear a cup".  They put an off-the-shoulder dress on me, and a big feathered hat, a feathered boa, long gloves, and the required pistol in one hand and the bottle in the other.  I wanted a cigar between my teeth, but they didn't have any.  The photographer kept saying "NO SMILING!", but I was having too much fun, and I couldn't stop smiling, so finally I had to do my relaxation thing, to shake off the giggles.  I let my head fall back, my spine slump, my arms drop, my chin and eyelids droop - and that's when he snapped the picture (of course), before I could pull all the strings to get me back together.   It's awful.  My mouth is practically drooling, my eyes look like I'm about to pass out, my body is a shapeless mound, and the gun is hanging listlessly.  I look drunk out of my gourd!     Sigh.   I really wanted a nice picture. 

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I've noticed it in my entries and in other AOL journals, too - sometimes this program runs two words together.  Seems to be arbitrary.  Not at the end of a line - in the middle somewhere.  I'll store the entry, then notice the problem, edit the entry and put in a blank, and store again, and they are still schmushed together.  Sometimes if I stick two or three blanks between the words, one blank will stick, but not always.  Very strange.

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More peeves:  It annoys me when someone uses a word or phrase when they obviously have no idea what they are saying, or what it means.   Like the woman in the grocery store, commenting that it didn't matter which line she chose, "It's six-half of one, six-half of the other."   Huh?  She apparently either never heard the correct aphorism, or having heard it didn't think about it.  Or maybe she meant "they are one in the same" (huh?), as I read recently.   There was a woman on "Judge Judy" today who spoke of a man who "went to the ER room".  It wasn't nervousness - she said it five times!  She has obviously never wondered what the "R" stood for.  And the young lady rhapsodizing about a new boyfriend, "He's my dream-come-true come true."   Apparently a dream that hasn't come true yet is merely a dream-come-true.  And then there's the handcream, the makers of which claim "It absorbs fast!"  That's downright scary!  If I put it on my hand, will it eat my skin?  What does it absorb?  (Oh, you mean it is absorbed quickly?  That's entirely different.  So why not say that?)  And last (for tonight, anyway) all the people who end a list with "ect".  It's easy to remember how to spell it if   a) you know it's an abbreviation, and   b) you know it's short for "et cetera" - therefore, "etc."  (The period on the end is part of it.  That's the "-etera".)

#44 The Trailer is Gone.

I sold the utility trailer last week.  I'm having an unexpected emotional reaction.  I think it's because the sale of the Ford, the Chevy, and now finally the trailer is putting a period to the end of one of the happiest times of my life.  Like it's all behind me now, and I won't ever get it back.

I bought the Ford Taurus when Jay and I were dating, and I bought it because it would be comfortable for both me at 4'10" and Jay at 6'3".  In other words, I bought it for us.   It was the first thing that said we were seriously a couple.  The Cavalier was Jay's commuting car, for when he was driving 100 miles a day to East Fishkill.  At 40+ mpg, it was very economical.  I used to love to see him coming up the driveway in it.  He was so huge, he filled almost the whole windshield, especially when he was wearing the down coat.  The trailer was purchased when Daughter went off to college and when I knew I'd be moving in with Jay, to help transporting stuff to and from Penn State, and to here from my old home.  All three vehicles were connected with good times, a good life.

Now all I have left is the wheelchair van.  Don't get me wrong - I love it.  All that open space, the 5' vertical, the electric ramp, the low floor and kneel, the built-in tiedowns - it's very handy, and I can do and transport a lot alone that I otherwise wouldn't be able to handle at all - bicycles, lawnmowers, snowthrowers, furniture, everything just zips right up the ramp.  But it was bought at a very bad time, for a very sad reason, and now I'm keeping it to help me through the alone time.

I miss the Ford, the Chevy, and the trailer.  Their being gone makes me miss Jay even more.

#43 Flirting, Gunshot Wounds, and Other Stuff

I read something very interesting somewhere lately, can't remember where, but it stuck with me, about differences in degrees of flirting.   That if you are in a committed relationship, there's nothing wrong with looking at and appreciating beauty whenever it passes by.  And if it comes within eyelash-fluttering range, there's nothing wrong with fluttering an eyelash or two, or even engaging in a little coy conversation.  But it has to happen by chance.  When it goes over the line is when you purposely put yourself in the way of a particular other person, or when you go looking for the opportunity, or when you do it for attention, to get attention for yourself, rather than for paying attention to the other person, or especially when you imply an availability that does not exist. 

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The last building I worked in was under triple lockdown at night, so we had to have the cleaning lady in during the day, while we were still there.  The cleaning service finally had to replace her because even after several warnings, she persisted in asking us to lend her money (ah, that reminds me - another peeve - lend vs. loan).  Anyway, the last time she asked me to lend her money it was to go to North Carolina to take care of her sister's children while her sister was in the hospital.  "She's ill?"  "No, she got shot."  (Shot?! She said it so casually....) "Shot?  Drive-by?  Robbery?"  "No, she pissed off the wrong people."  She went on to say that almost everyone in her family over the age of 15 had been shot or stabbed at least once, a few fatally.  Totally blew my mind.  Very far from my culture and that of everyone else with whom I associate.  But to her, this was a normal everyday fact of life.  Sometimes you get shot.

I was reminded of her by an incident on a daytime talk show.  A woman's boyfriend was in jail, she had spent some time in jail, her son was in jail, her daughter's boyfriend was in jail, ad infinitum, and when the audience expressed disgust, she said angrily, "Look, we ain't no jail family.  Things happen.  How many of you ain't never been in jail?"  She seemed surprised and disbelieving when almost 100% of the audience raised their hands.  Again I was thinking that her life is so very far from mine - when I was brought  up short by the realization that a fair portion of my siblings have either been behind bars or were saved only by my mother's money and influence.  Oops.  Sometimes, things happen.

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There was a woman on a late night talk show - the host in fact - who said that she almost never says "I love you" to her husband.  She thought it was unnecessary to say it, "He knows how I feel", and that saying it too often dilutes it.  Today I read an advice column in which two women (both married, with children) offered their opinions. One said that people who end every phone call to their spouse or children with "I love you" are just hedging their bets - that if the other were to drop dead suddenly they could feel good that the last thing they said was "I love you".  The other woman claimed that people who say it a lot say it as a reflexive action, without feeling or meaning.  It's just a habit.

I was SHOCKED!  That's so cynical!  So cold!

I told Jay I loved him, in exactly those words ("I love you, Sweetheart" as he left the house, or "Love you, Baby Boy" in passing, or if he'd said something funny or done something cute or sweet "And you wonder why I love you?") at least five times a day, every day, maybe more.  Probably more.  Jay was the same way.  We never passed each other in the house without a big hug or a little touch.  I absolutely meant it every time.  Saying it often came naturally to Jay, and he taught me.  Friends used to say that when he and I made eye contact in public, they could see a whole silent conversation pass between us in an instant.  But really, all it was, was "I love you", practiced to perfection.

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What's with young men shaving their entire bodies?  Arms, chest, legs, back, even sometimes, ahem, "there".  It seems to be the thing to do these days.  And young women seem to expect it of them.  I've heard that teeny-boppers (Oooo did I just date myself?) prefer androgynous male singers because they find them less threatening.   Are the young men afraid to grow up?  Do the young women want their men to not look TOO male?   I can't figure it out. 

I've always preferred furry men.  I love beards.  There's a scene in "Dances with Wolves" where the native American maiden indicates to her causasian lover (in pantomime, they didn't share a language yet) that she wants him to shave his beard because it hurts her face when he kisses her.  I howled, right out loud in the theater!  No beard ever hurts your face!  Stubble hurts!  You don't ever get whisker burn from a fully grown beard!   Who the heck wrote that scene?  I can't imagine anyone getting it so wrong.  Which leads to a speculation - with these guys who shave all over, do you get full-body whisker burn? 

(My "made it up myself" joke:  "I love beards because I hate whisker burn.  ---Pause two beats---  Yeah.  It's hard to walk with whisker burn."  And then you have to turn around and walk away, so when it sinks in, you're gone.) 

After my mother's funeral, my sisters and I were at the bar in the restaurant where we all had gone for dinner, leaving the men and children downstairs.  Somehow the conversation got to man-fur, I think my younger sister was bemoaning the fact that her husband either didn't have chest hair, or did, I forget, and I mentioned that Jay had silky black hair on the back of his shoulders and his upper back, and both my sisters reared back and said "Eeeeyooouuh!"  Huh?  It's not like it crawled out of his shirt!  All his body fur was longish, straightish, very fine and soft.  He had curves around the top and inside edges of his shoulder blades, and a triangle on his lower back.  His lower arms and legs were thickly furred, with a swirled point of fur that extended out onto the top of his feet and the back of his hands.  That curving point of dark silk on the backs of his long-fingered artist's hands only emphasized their masculine sensitivity.  Without that fur they might have looked too feminine.  He had a lighter baby-down on his behind that I absolutely loved.  Petting his behind was like petting a kitten.  All of his fur grew in a direction - it wasn't random - it swirled to the right or left, or swooped down or around.  It was beautiful.  How could any real woman not delight in that?

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Pictures of all those folks in blocks-long lines outside Floridian lumber stores, waiting to buy plywood tocover their windows.  Why don't they have shutters?  Everywhere we stayed in France, there were working shutters on the windows, and every night, you'd lean out the window and pull the shutters closed.  In the morning, you'd open them.  I don't know what they were there for, it's not like they have a lot of storms.  I suppose they do foil burglars.  Jay loved them.  He loved the ceremony of them.  The closing from and opening to the world.  He wanted to put working shutters on our windows, or at least on the bedroom windows, but we'd have to replace the crank windows with double-hung, and then there's the SGDs, so it didn't happen.

Anyway, wouldn't shutters be a good idea in Florida?  I know a lot of the more expensive houses have metal shutters that roll up and down in a track.  But for the less expensive digs, permanently installed hinged wooden shutters have to be less expensive in the long run than all those sheets of plywood, they'd offer better protection, be faster and simpler to deploy, and less damaging to the window frames and exterior walls.  So why aren't they more common?  Hmmmm.  I think I smell a business opportunity.

#42 Congratulations to the Channel 10 News Crew!

I wish I had bought a bottle of one of those fancy champagnes last night at the auction, so I could sent it to the Channel ten (WTEN, Albany or Schenectady) news writers.  The reporter was talking about a Florida woman who had been visiting this area, and has been trying to get back home for the past two weeks.  But all her flights had been cancelled or filled up because of the hurricanes, or, if she got to Florida, she wouldn't have been allowed to get to her home anyway.  He finished with (paraphrased) "Because of the third hurricane forming off the coast, her return home remains problematic."

(Cheers!  Woo woo!  Foot stomping!  They got it right!)

While I'm on the subject of newcasters and hurricanes, I pure-dee would 'preciate it if, when they talked about storm damage, they could like show us a map, sorta like the thunderstorm maps with rainfall amounts?  You, know, where they show red where there's powerful damage, orange where trailers didn't get blowed around too much, and yellow where it's just mostly tree and shingle damage?  

They give us maps of red in-danger-to-be-evacuated areas before the storm, but after, all we get is spot-pictures of the worst damage from here and there and who-knows-where.  Those of us with relatives in hurricane areas would like to know the degree of  worry we should devote.  Might cut down on the unnecessary phone calls: "Oh, no, it bypassed us by 50 miles.  Just awful muddy here...."  

#41 Penthouse Auction

I went to a local auction last night.  It was the contents of Robert (Penthouse Magazine) Guccione's Hudson River mansion.  The crowd was not the usual auction folks.  The bidding was very strange - this bunch wanted to start every bid very low, and then go very high in very small increments - which meant that every item took longer.  George-the-auctioneer at first let these 'new' bidders dictate where the bid started and allowed them to cut his increments.   Long after the "usual folks" were muttering, George finally decided to retake control.  But it still went way past midnight, a seven hour marathon.

There was one particular group of bidders who apparently came together, and who would insist on $25 increments on $7,000 items, when the bid was only at like $2,000, when George was asking for $200 increments.  We all wanted to strangle them!   I made a comment on a cigarette break that bidder number 'xyz' was driving me crazy, slowing everything down, and the guy standing next to me said "Hey!  That's us!"   I explained what my problem was, and he said that it was a business, and "why should I pay $200 more than the next lowest bidder if I can get it for only $25 more?"   Because when the increments are small, everybody keeps going, and it's STILL going to sell at the same price, or even higher because it's easier to justify a nibble than a bite - that's why!   George can judge very well how the bidding is going to go, he knows when to cut the increments and how to keep things moving, so let him do his job.   

Guccione's personal assistant was there, and "The Girlfriend", and they both smoked, so I got to talk with them during periodic addiction breaks.   I was very amused when bidder 'xyz' said that he'd paid $13,000 for the Italian walnut canopy bed because it had been used in some Penthouse photos, and the assistant said no, that bed had never been used in photos, in fact it had never even been slept in, it was another that was used, with a tapestry headboard.  I'm afraid I giggled.  

Most of the furniture and smalls didn't interest me at all.  Imagine what dark heavy gothic mixed with baroque and a lot of gilded wood would look like, and that's pretty much it.  Mostly 18th century.  A lot of Flemish and Italian.  But there were a few mid-eastern copper and bronze ewers that I liked (I did get some).  Besides, I was curious.  And auctions can be very social.  You have safe ready-made topics for conversation with strangers.  

I also ran into an ex-coworker, now the biggest realtor in the area, whom I hadn't seen in a decade at least.  He said he was friends with Guccione, had been in that mansion, (I gather he sold it to him in the first place), but he had "never seen any of this stuff!"  Back when we worked together, I practically had to beat this guy off with a stick.  But last night I gave him my number and we are going to get together for lunch some time soon.  He's now married, seemed to be happy at her side, I got no bad vibes from him, so I think lunch will be safe.  

I wore a long peach sleeveless cotton knit dress to the auction.  I'm a little self-conscious about my upper arms, so as I was going out the door, I grabbed a peach and gray tie-dye triangular silk scarf for over my shoulders.   All three edges had crocheted trim with gold beads and dangly gold coins and the three corners had longer bead and coin tassels.  The points hung to the top of my hips, and it all jingled so prettily when I moved.  I got a LOT of compliments on "my outfit", especially from the gay decorator crew.  "The Girlfriend" was the only one I told - that it's really a belly dance hip scarf.  So if we pretty soon see everyone wearing BD hip scarves as shawls - I STARTED THE FASHION!!!

#40 Patrick's Saturday Six

Never heard of the Saturday Six?  Want to play?  Click here and look for the link to the latest version in Patrick's sidebar.

1. What's your favorite thing to do while indoors?  

If I didn't ever have to do anything else, I'd do some kind of needlework all the time.  I like seeing something take shape in my hands.  Unfortunately, I rarely find the time.

2. What's your favorite thing to do while outdoors?

Walking alone in the woods or along the river.  Or driving on roads I've never been on before.

3. Do you wear any jewelry regularly?  If so, what and where?

Back when I couldn't afford nice jewelry, I developed a taste for unusual but inexpensive jewelry.  If it can't be "good", it can at least be interesting.  I bought most of my things in import or resale stores, or yard sales.  So I've got a gazillion unique-looking necklaces that always garner compliments, and I have to almost force myself to wear them to justify their staying in my closet.   

4. You have the choice of spending time alone, with a few close friends, with many friends and aquaintances, or in a large crowd consisting of people you do and don't know.  Which one would make you the most comfortable?

Alone.  Or with one dear one.  If I have to be with more than one or two, then let it be a very large group.  I tend to listen more than I talk, and the more people there are, the more interesting things I'm likely to hear.

5. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

I just counted.  Approximately 114, including bedroom slippers, and high heels from when I was working.  Some of them are 30 or more years old. My hoarding may have something to do with the fact that when I was young I didn't have more than two or three pairs of shoes at a time, and half of them were hand-me-downs from my Gramma, for Pete's Sake!   Yeah, it's on my To-Do list to sort and toss.  A lot of them hurt my feet, so they rarely get worn.  I wore one very old pair a while ago, and they literally disintegrated while I was walking through a museum.  I was asked to leave because bare feet were not allowed.

6. READER'S CHOICE QUESTION #21 from Jeanno43 and Cherie:   If a fire or other circumstances forced you to leave your home with all of your loved ones and pets -- but only time to rescue one single item, what would you choose to take with you and why?

It's a tossup between the folder containing the receipts for all the rest of the crap, and my favorite photo of Jay. 

#39 The English Language is Dead

I read an editorial in the local paper recently (or maybe it was a letter to the editor?  I forget.) about the lack of educating in American education.  Kids are graduating from high school with no math or writing skills, no sense of history, no reasoning abilities, and the writer complained that it is has gotten worse over the past 20 years, and seems to be snowballing. 

Based on my own experiences, I have to agree.  Not all the kids are ignorant of the most basic skills, but the proportion of those who are seems to be increasing.   It's not just the kids.  I occasionally get a newsletter from the school district, and I amuse myself by correcting all the spelling, grammar, vocabulary, and factual errors with a red pen.  I usually find at least 20 errors in a four page flyer.  Simple, basic errors, nothing fancy.  Then I stick it in an envelope and mail it back anonymously.  The  educationally handicapped are teaching the educationally deprived, so it's no wonder it's getting worse exponentially.   

My personal peeve is the misuse of words.  Andy Rooney has complained that people are misusing words, and nobody corrects them because it isn't polite to correct them (not "PC"), "besides, you know what they mean....", so that the meaning of words gets diluted, to the point where we really don't know what they mean.  And if you aren't sure how your listener is going to interpret a word, you can't use it any more.  So the misuse of words has decreased Andy's own vocabulary!  He can't use many perfectly good and very precise words any more.   

My own favorite example:   "Problematic" does not mean "is a difficulty" (in a negative sense).  It means "is a question to which we do not know the answer, but want to know" (nothing bad about it).  So if someone asks if John is coming to the party, and I answer, "John's attendance is problematic", all I'm saying is that we don't know whether John will be there or not, and I would really like to know.  But since there's a very good chance someone will run to John and tell him I don't want him to attend, I can't use a perfectly good word any more.  A word, by the way, which in 11 letters expresses what otherwise takes 11+  words.   Newscasters are the worst assassins of "problematic".  

I get very annoyed at people who say that the language is not  static, it's living, therefore meanings can change.  I'll agree we can add and delete words, but I don't agree that we can change the meaning of a word to its near opposite, to where it loses all meaning!     The word is then no longer living - it's dead!   Jay and I used to politely snarl at each other about our choice of dictionaries.  He loved his Webster's.  I despise Webster's.  The Oxford is the only real dictionary.  (Jay said the Oxford is elitist.  How is that bad?)  The problem I have with Webster's is that it documents actual lowest-common-denominator usage, which is often incorrect.  (Ok, now I understand "elitist", but I still don't see how it's bad.)   Webster's legitimizes common errors.  You will often find two contradictory definitions for the same word in Webster's.  Problematic, for example, is defined in Webster's as both an open question and a difficulty.  WRONG!  

Two days worth of reading/listening has yielded the following: 

Sight vs. site

Your vs. you're

Then vs. than

Advise vs. advice

Lose vs. loose

Formerly vs. formally  (as in "she was formally a resident of...." in an obituary)

Illiterate vs. illegitimate (believe it or not) 

Envelop vs. envelope  

Fewer vs. less

Died vs. dyed

Lie vs. lay (and tenses thereof)

Its vs. it's  (Please, teachers out there, explain that the possessive "its" is like "his" and "hers".  No apostrophe.)

Different from vs. different than ("than" is always incorrect)

Enormity has nothing to do with measuring tapes.  You can speak of "the enormity of his crime", but not about "the enormity of the elephant".

The past tense of "bid" is not "bidded".

The one that makes me howl in anguish:  Incident vs. incidence.  Especially "incidences".  (Making "incidence" plural makes my typing fingers hurt.)   I think people put "instance" and "incident" together, and that's how they get "incidences".

When Daughter was young, I insisted on correct pronunciation, on the theory that if you pronounce it correctly, you have a better chance of spelling it correctly.  I am vindicated by people who can't spell "liberry" or "athaletic".

We used to be able to improve ourselves by listening to educated people speak, and by reading, and then by paying attention to and imitating what we heard and read.   No longer.  That can be downright dangerous.  Newscasters, commercials, educators, newspaper reporters and editors - none of them want to admit that they have a responsibility to use language responsibly.  So we get sentences like "The police say that Oak Street is problematic, after several incidences of purse-snatching."    Yeah, I know what they mean, but would they know what I mean if I used the words correctly?  It would not be a problem if they didn't know.  The problem is that they would THINK they DO know.