Too long without organizing my thoughts.
Too long without taking notes.
Too long without adding a record.
Too long without writing.
The past few weeks I seem to have noticed fluctuations in the time stream. Heh.
Average calls on one day take longer than average calls on another.
Oh yeah. I'm taking calls now. Professionally.
The thing is, my average talk time does fluctuate. Sure, there will be long calls. But they should average out.
I do feel that there are days, hours and minutes that do not pass by at the same rate. On the whole things are speeding up. But there are varitions from moment to moment.
There are still times when a minute will last as long as they did when I was taking piano lessons in Minneapolis. Forever.
And there are times when a year passes more quickly than an afternoon drive in the country on a sunny bright day with my family.
On the whole things are speeding up.
They have to.
One interpretation of the Mayan calendar system suggests that the calendars demonstrate the measurement of a series of speeding up of time periods. That more and more will get done in less time at an increasing rate until people begin to break because of the pressure and the final end.
One of the corporate slogans these days is: Do more with less.
I am so not corporate.
I can be corporate. I can even uphold policies that I do not agree with. I've done that for years.
I learned a long time ago that I am not a capitalist. That's okay.
I also learned that I can get along in this odd society without stooping to the same dog-eat-dog level.
I can converse and work honestly, maintaining what little integrity I am building and still provide a valuable contribution to my boss and the team.
News flash to me.
I had no integrity before.
It is true: Private actions must be equal to or better than public posture.
Oh sure. There were areas in my life that I did pretty good keeping my private and public actions and words equal.
However, there were areas in my life where I was out of balance. I had to change my private behavior to equal the words I gave lip service to.
Those out-of-balance areas threw my whole being out-of-whack. And caused damage to those around me. Especially her.
The entire being, all thought, intention, speech and action, public and private, need to balance to create integrity.
Better late than never. I do have a lot of catch-up to do.
Thank heavens for repentance.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Sunday, April 01, 2007
My new wiki and Google
It's been almost two months since I set up my new website:
www.biographicalwiki.com
It's a place where anyone can publish a short biography about their deceased relatives for free. I even put a Google Ad on the pages of Biographical Wiki to see if we could make the site self sustaining. The jury's still out on that.
The odd thing that we've be looking for is when the biographies will show up in google search results. So far, the very first biography I posted does come up when your enter the name in quotes on a google search: "Martha Ann Truman". But the Biographical Wiki result has dropped to the last page recently.
As we've checked over the last week or so, other searches that used to bring up results on Google, no longer do. For example, "Clifford Leroy Howse" brought up google results a week ago, but no longer. The same with "Delbert Woolever".
On the other hand, "Charles Robert McCandless" has never had his biography show up on a google search results page.
Weird.
I think that Google does a six week cycle for crawling the web, but that is just hearsay.
We haven't been documenting our Google search results, so we can't really point to specifics at this time. But that is about to change. I like to have a little understanding about my world, even if it's only a vague impression of understanding. Getting Google search results for a few days and then no longer replicating those results only suggests that Google has changed something in the way they are building their indexes. I guess.
Someday I'll have a better, more informed idea how my new website is indexed by Google.
But for now I'm mystified.
www.biographicalwiki.com
It's a place where anyone can publish a short biography about their deceased relatives for free. I even put a Google Ad on the pages of Biographical Wiki to see if we could make the site self sustaining. The jury's still out on that.
The odd thing that we've be looking for is when the biographies will show up in google search results. So far, the very first biography I posted does come up when your enter the name in quotes on a google search: "Martha Ann Truman". But the Biographical Wiki result has dropped to the last page recently.
As we've checked over the last week or so, other searches that used to bring up results on Google, no longer do. For example, "Clifford Leroy Howse" brought up google results a week ago, but no longer. The same with "Delbert Woolever".
On the other hand, "Charles Robert McCandless" has never had his biography show up on a google search results page.
Weird.
I think that Google does a six week cycle for crawling the web, but that is just hearsay.
We haven't been documenting our Google search results, so we can't really point to specifics at this time. But that is about to change. I like to have a little understanding about my world, even if it's only a vague impression of understanding. Getting Google search results for a few days and then no longer replicating those results only suggests that Google has changed something in the way they are building their indexes. I guess.
Someday I'll have a better, more informed idea how my new website is indexed by Google.
But for now I'm mystified.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
10 Days Late
The full moon was setting as we pulled into the parking lot of the Alta View Hospital Women's Center, clearly visible above the Oquirrh Mountians to the west, Monday, March 5, 2007.
We had talked to our daughter on the cell phone as we drove down just after 7 am.
She was completely effaced and dilated to 4 cm. She received her epidural about a half-hour earlier, so she was very relaxed when we got to her labor room, 204. In fact, she nodded off as we visited, the continuing contractions mechanically noted, but not consciously felt.
The nurse stopped in at 8 am to check her vitals, but didn't check her delivery progress. We were getting all settled in for a several hour wait. The doctor had moved her appointments in anticipation of an afternoon delivery.
My daughter's mother-in-law, Jill, made it a point to remind the nurse that they had checked her delivery progress every hour through-out the night, so when the nurse came in at 9 am, she performed her check.
We had just moved in to the waiting room to let the daughter sleep.
Before I even sat down, I saw my wife walking towards us in a hurry.
"She's dilated to a 9 and they've called the doctor back," she breathlessly told us.
I called my parents, who were already on their way, and let them know things might go quicker than we thought.
The doctor, whose office is "only twenty minutes away" arrived at about 9:50 am. The nurses had the daughter push once before the doctor arrived, but the baby's head was "RIGHT THERE", so they told her to stop.
My wife remained in the room with our daughter and her husband, while Jill and I stayed in the hallway, listening at the door.
They tried using the vaccuum first, but it didn't work. After an episiotomy to a 2, the Doctor took things in her own hands, unwrapped the cord encircling Audrey's neck and at 10:06 am, Audrey started to cry.
I was pretty close to that state my own self.
Audrey had a little difficulty breathing to begin with, so the nurse rushed her into the nursery, giving us a quick flash of Audrey's face as she took her across the hall. The put an IV into her as a precaution.
By then, my parents had arrived along with some other in-laws.
Eventually, we all got to meet Audrey.
She complements our extended family marvelously.
I am excited to get to know her better in the days to come.
We had talked to our daughter on the cell phone as we drove down just after 7 am.
She was completely effaced and dilated to 4 cm. She received her epidural about a half-hour earlier, so she was very relaxed when we got to her labor room, 204. In fact, she nodded off as we visited, the continuing contractions mechanically noted, but not consciously felt.
The nurse stopped in at 8 am to check her vitals, but didn't check her delivery progress. We were getting all settled in for a several hour wait. The doctor had moved her appointments in anticipation of an afternoon delivery.
My daughter's mother-in-law, Jill, made it a point to remind the nurse that they had checked her delivery progress every hour through-out the night, so when the nurse came in at 9 am, she performed her check.
We had just moved in to the waiting room to let the daughter sleep.
Before I even sat down, I saw my wife walking towards us in a hurry.
"She's dilated to a 9 and they've called the doctor back," she breathlessly told us.
I called my parents, who were already on their way, and let them know things might go quicker than we thought.
The doctor, whose office is "only twenty minutes away" arrived at about 9:50 am. The nurses had the daughter push once before the doctor arrived, but the baby's head was "RIGHT THERE", so they told her to stop.
My wife remained in the room with our daughter and her husband, while Jill and I stayed in the hallway, listening at the door.
They tried using the vaccuum first, but it didn't work. After an episiotomy to a 2, the Doctor took things in her own hands, unwrapped the cord encircling Audrey's neck and at 10:06 am, Audrey started to cry.
I was pretty close to that state my own self.
Audrey had a little difficulty breathing to begin with, so the nurse rushed her into the nursery, giving us a quick flash of Audrey's face as she took her across the hall. The put an IV into her as a precaution.
By then, my parents had arrived along with some other in-laws.
Eventually, we all got to meet Audrey.
She complements our extended family marvelously.
I am excited to get to know her better in the days to come.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Time and other Seasonings
She turned 45 today.
This morning I lay awake in the small hours, her warmth close-by. I pondered how best to communicate all that she means to me in my life. Thoughts and ideas flowed freely, filling my head.
For the past 26 years I have shared her birthdays, the first as a glorified boyfriend, the next quarter century as a family member. We've spent more than half of our lives together, working through life's challenges as a team.
This birthday seems a little harder for her than the past ones. Her mom died this spring; mortal frailty is making its presence felt. She voices her concerns and insecurities.
This morning as ideas ran through my mind, it occurred to me that she thinks of herself as a rose.
Recently, I had the opportunity, when she was ill, to represent her at my niece's bridal shower. New experience for me.
My daughter was in charge of the rose game: the Guests all estimate the number of petals in a chosen rose bud; the Bride pulls the rose apart, petal by petal, listing one fact she knows about the Groom for each petal; the petals are counted. The Bride did a wonderful job. I was stunned at how many petals are in a rosebud.
It seems to me that my wife thinks she is losing petals; that some of her outer petals are turning brown and discolored; that soon she is going to fall-apart completely.
My wife is not a rose.
Rather, her beauty is that of fine sculpture: the years may be rough on a masterpiece, knocking a finger off here, gouging a spot there, but the value remains. Even missing her arms, the Venus de Milo stands graceful, intriguing, full of beauty and more valuable than any sculpture created in the past two millennia. So, it is with my wife: though knocked about by life's regular trials, she greets all comers with a grin, and carries on, standing tall and unbowed by experience.
Her beauty is that of fine literature: the pages yellow with age; the binding cracks and falls apart; the pages tear, fall-out and are taped or re-glued; the margins are filled with notes. Still the volume is treasured for the wisdom, knowledge and language it contains. No one would cast it aside, rather it is stored carefully and taken out again and again, to drink deep of the truths that it holds.
For years I have realized that my outlook on life would be shallow indeed, but for her. She has regularly dragged me, kicking and complaining, from the box I lived in, with my hands over eyes and ears, out into the light to see the world with new perspectives. She doesn't accept surface explanations, but rather, looks into the meaning of words, and more important, where those meanings lead. She has never been afraid to lift up the corner of a rug to see what might lie underneath, whether a treasure could be hidden there.
Her beauty is that of fine architecture: basking in, absorbing and reflecting the unique characteristics of the light where she is. Her whole life has been dedicated to the light: finding it and making it a part of her.
As a new husband and father, I only thought my wife had women's intuition. She is marvelous judge of character as we move into new towns and situations. With the perspective that a quarter-century brings, I now realize that she has unique gifts that allow her to understand things about people that others don't. The empathy she feels for others is so pervasive that after she has spent a few hours with someone, she'll come back home speaking like that person, not as a form of imitation, flattery or mockery, but rather in a completely unconscious absorption of their speech habits, word choice and dialect.
Life with her has been a wonderful adventure.
I am thankful to be her partner and companion.
Happy Birthday, lady!
This morning I lay awake in the small hours, her warmth close-by. I pondered how best to communicate all that she means to me in my life. Thoughts and ideas flowed freely, filling my head.
For the past 26 years I have shared her birthdays, the first as a glorified boyfriend, the next quarter century as a family member. We've spent more than half of our lives together, working through life's challenges as a team.
This birthday seems a little harder for her than the past ones. Her mom died this spring; mortal frailty is making its presence felt. She voices her concerns and insecurities.
This morning as ideas ran through my mind, it occurred to me that she thinks of herself as a rose.
Recently, I had the opportunity, when she was ill, to represent her at my niece's bridal shower. New experience for me.
My daughter was in charge of the rose game: the Guests all estimate the number of petals in a chosen rose bud; the Bride pulls the rose apart, petal by petal, listing one fact she knows about the Groom for each petal; the petals are counted. The Bride did a wonderful job. I was stunned at how many petals are in a rosebud.
It seems to me that my wife thinks she is losing petals; that some of her outer petals are turning brown and discolored; that soon she is going to fall-apart completely.
My wife is not a rose.
Rather, her beauty is that of fine sculpture: the years may be rough on a masterpiece, knocking a finger off here, gouging a spot there, but the value remains. Even missing her arms, the Venus de Milo stands graceful, intriguing, full of beauty and more valuable than any sculpture created in the past two millennia. So, it is with my wife: though knocked about by life's regular trials, she greets all comers with a grin, and carries on, standing tall and unbowed by experience.Her beauty is that of fine literature: the pages yellow with age; the binding cracks and falls apart; the pages tear, fall-out and are taped or re-glued; the margins are filled with notes. Still the volume is treasured for the wisdom, knowledge and language it contains. No one would cast it aside, rather it is stored carefully and taken out again and again, to drink deep of the truths that it holds.
For years I have realized that my outlook on life would be shallow indeed, but for her. She has regularly dragged me, kicking and complaining, from the box I lived in, with my hands over eyes and ears, out into the light to see the world with new perspectives. She doesn't accept surface explanations, but rather, looks into the meaning of words, and more important, where those meanings lead. She has never been afraid to lift up the corner of a rug to see what might lie underneath, whether a treasure could be hidden there.
Her beauty is that of fine architecture: basking in, absorbing and reflecting the unique characteristics of the light where she is. Her whole life has been dedicated to the light: finding it and making it a part of her.
As a new husband and father, I only thought my wife had women's intuition. She is marvelous judge of character as we move into new towns and situations. With the perspective that a quarter-century brings, I now realize that she has unique gifts that allow her to understand things about people that others don't. The empathy she feels for others is so pervasive that after she has spent a few hours with someone, she'll come back home speaking like that person, not as a form of imitation, flattery or mockery, but rather in a completely unconscious absorption of their speech habits, word choice and dialect.
Life with her has been a wonderful adventure.
I am thankful to be her partner and companion.
Happy Birthday, lady!
Friday, October 27, 2006
Persistence
She wouldn't leave me be.
I was catching up on local obituaries yesterday, looking for people from my county of interest, or people who are related to me. I'd gotten behind and had to go through three weeks of online newspapers.
Well, as I scanned the obits, I noticed her, Joyce Janeen. Her obit was in the paper for several days running, so I saw her a few times.
She wouldn't leave me be.
I noted that she was raised in a town we'd moved away from last year and let it go at that.
She wouldn't leave me be.
I took a look at my database and saw that I had already entered some of her relatives, so after some consideration, I decided to copy her obituary and picture.
This afternoon I added the obituaries to my database. When I got to Joyce's record, I remembered the reticence I had, wasting my time on adding records for a person whose only connection is that she lived in a town I had lived in for a decade.
I finished entering records for her children and grandchildren (it was an amazingly complete obituary...) and took another, closer look.
Her husband is my 4th cousin. Her family is part of my family; for some reason she wanted them added to my database.
Sometimes the spirit has to whisper several times before I listen.
But I'm paying better attention.
I was catching up on local obituaries yesterday, looking for people from my county of interest, or people who are related to me. I'd gotten behind and had to go through three weeks of online newspapers.
Well, as I scanned the obits, I noticed her, Joyce Janeen. Her obit was in the paper for several days running, so I saw her a few times.
She wouldn't leave me be.
I noted that she was raised in a town we'd moved away from last year and let it go at that.
She wouldn't leave me be.
I took a look at my database and saw that I had already entered some of her relatives, so after some consideration, I decided to copy her obituary and picture.
This afternoon I added the obituaries to my database. When I got to Joyce's record, I remembered the reticence I had, wasting my time on adding records for a person whose only connection is that she lived in a town I had lived in for a decade.
I finished entering records for her children and grandchildren (it was an amazingly complete obituary...) and took another, closer look.
Her husband is my 4th cousin. Her family is part of my family; for some reason she wanted them added to my database.
Sometimes the spirit has to whisper several times before I listen.
But I'm paying better attention.
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