Mrs. Charlotte Armstrong

-photo of the lovely Litwin sisters,Phyllis Rubenstein and Charlotte Armstrong, courtesy of Cincinnati Daily Photo

A really great and classy lady who I was privileged to spend time with over the last 5 years left us Sunday. I don't know what to say yet besides that I am going to miss "my buddy."

Obituary - Charlotte Anne Armstrong

Charlotte Anne Armstrong, 82, formerly of Amberley Village, died Sunday, Oct. 26 at Hospice of Cincinnati. Wife of the late Sanford H. Armstrong, mother of B.J. Foreman (Arthur), late son Stewart (Jan Armstrong Cobb.) Sister Phyllis Rubenstein (Eli). Grandchildren Elizabeth Foreman (Erik Laursen), Jessica, Sanford (Niki), Susan and Leslie Armstrong, Jonathan Krass (Allie), Matt Krass (Orlee.) Great grandchildren Anna Laursen and Micah Krass. Numerous cousins and four nephews. Memorials: Adath Israel Congregation, Dana-Farber Cancer Institute or Jewish Early Learning Center at Hebrew Union College. Funeral Tuesday at 11:30 a.m. at Weil Funeral Home. Shiva will be observed at 7 p.m. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Details at WeilFuneralHome.com.

Curmudgeon Role Model

Woman, 89, arrested for keeping football.

I always have said I wanted to someday grow up to pretty much be Walter Matthau. A grumpy old man. However I now have a new role-model for eventually being a curmudgeon. This local 89-year old woman has told them repeatedly, but the neighbor kids' couldn't keep their ball from going into her yard... so she kept it. She' done it before -she says 3 times, though the parent of the kids said 10 - and said she was going to give it back.

Eventually. After they'd learned their lesson.

When police asked Jester to return the ball to the children, she refused. They
warned her twice she would be charged if she did not cooperate, Schaffer said.
They tried to give her a citation, but she refused to sign for it, he said.

Of course,the police took her in and booked her. Some people think they over-reacted, some people think they didn't. I think we all have to agree to disagree. From one viewpoint, what was once a member of a village helping raise a child is now a petty thief. From another, this crazy old coot's stealing from children and it's about as cruel as building a gingerbread house to get them into one's dinner. The only people who can probably really gauge this situation are the friends and neighbors. Is she a mean old lady? Are the kids little hellions who should be put down now for the good of future society? Are they just kids, placing play over respecting property boundaries they don't even understand?

Evidently the max sentence is six months in jail or and a $1000 fine. Somehow I don't see her paying that. All the great old ladies I know are too strong and proud and stubborn to take that kind of guff...

The football, valued at $15, is being held for evidence, Schaffer
said.

This is make you think...

...and maybe cry a little. You can't read this article about Pakistani brides being burned and blinded with acid by husbands and family members in "shame crimes" and still triumphing against their adversity (in little, yet I think especially profound, ways by becoming beauticians and by just NOT hiding) and not be touched by it.

There's also a stunning slide show to underscore just how terribly. I recommend you check it out, then take it to heart and maybe go donate some money to a battered women's shelter or other such charity. I think I will.

Rushing past the sights I'd want to see...

This weekend has gone by in a flash. The past week went just as speedily.

I've joined a gym - lost 5 1/2 pounds in the last 7 days - which I think is damn good, all things considered. I went 5 out of the last 7 days, and will be in every other day this week. I just kind of eased into a decision I'd been batting around for a long time now. I'm not getting any younger. I've never been the most physically active person in the world. If the body is a temple I tended to treat mine much like the Taliban would, all but blowing it up.

I have always looked at my father as being a healthy, active man. He's constantly seemed more fit than I have ever been. About a year ago, he was diagnosed with diabetes and I learned just how much in runs in the family. Well, when someone who's always been trim and active has to make major modifications at sixty... you realize that your genetic imprint is probably running a speedier course towards the same results.

So here I am, on the elliptical every day and taking a small personal training package to learn how to properly use the circuit and weight training machinery. I'm going to get fit, while there's still time.

I've already made a lot of dietary changes over the last few months. I'd started South Beach and did really well whenever I was in town -- still a believer that vacation calories don't count. Sadly, my first workout proved that you need some carbohydrates in your body if you don't want to wind up laid out on the floor trying with all your will power not to vomit after exercising.

Today, I just spent a good 3 hours prepping a weeks' worth of black beans and rice lunches, along with roasted veggies, 2 days of fish, 2 days of eggs, and I'm about to apportion out a week's worth of salads. I have after work appointments Monday and Wednesday, so I now have to start hauling around 2 meals in my lunch box on those days. I guess this is all going to be about discipline; about habit and repetition. Staying organized at home and on the road. It's going to be big changes and I really hope I make the most of them.

I'm not sure if I'll follow the Nala example and try to start getting up at the crack of dawn to get it in before work... but I do see myself stopping by after. I saw the results he produced the first time he hit the gym and knowing he's going again is inspiring to me. I always think how I need to make these changes -- my health, getting a job; but I'm using either "feeling blue" or "no energy" as an excuse. Well, I won't have those excuses anymore. If I am afraid of results, or change, or testing myself -- tough. It's time to do it.

Let's hope I get motivated and active and soon find a new job that would make getting to these gyms VERY inconvenient! I'll take the new habits with me though... til then I'll be "up in the gym just workin' on my fitness."

(god, I just LOVE an obvious musical cue)

Pet Packaging Peeve

Why am I so skeeved out by the people who were going through everyone's recycling bins as I left the house this morning?

There's been a rash of it over the last few months. You put all your recycling out on the curb at night and when you're leaving the house in the morning it looks as tossed as your trash does when the raccoons get into it.

This morning I set my recycling out and looked up to find the dumpster divers. There were a couple of yuppie-looking types in Tie-Dye T-shirts who hopped out of their SUV and started bin-diving with big trash bags. As they were a cheerful looking bunch in matching shirts I'm tempted to believe they're part of some organization or charity. This however still files them under the heading "just nasty people" for me.

I took my recycling back in. It just bugged me that they were so nakedly riffling through my neighbor's garbage. I'm thinking I must be some kind of a tight ass (just some kind?) but I'm averse to their making money on the back of my empty empty-calorie containers. I know Rumpke does, and I know I'm being irrational, but at least I feel like I'm choosing where it's going, rather than the scavengers taking some sort of perceived "advantage." (After reviewing that sentence, I'm questioning if I don't need some meds, frankly.)

As I was getting into the car the guy called "Didn't want us going through your stuff?" and I really had to fight the urge to turn around and bawl him out for what really is pretty harmless... so here, I guess, is the question: am I offended that they were parasitically making money off of every one's refuse (illuminating that I could be doing it myself if I chose to go through the hassle) or that they were a couple of SUV-driving prats?

Or is it just one more offence piled on top of the random, ever changing junk yard that's being set up at the next door neighbors house? I look at their rusting refrigerators and shopping carts that pop up from time to time and feel powerless and disrespected (especially with all the work I've put into keeping the house in a show-able condition). Then, I get to turn around and find someone else literally "poaching" off of me. Maybe I'm just bucking for some social lice-shampoo...

Worth the wait

I thought this was just about the coolest thing ever. A pair of siblings who survived the Holocaust were reunited after 66 years. Enough to make one to believe in happy - although belated - endings.

Needing a break but taking too much of one

It's hard to admit when you need a break or a change. I'm afraid I need to not only admit it, but shout it from the rooftops.

I've spent a 3-day run completely unstimulated at work and vegging at home. I'm caught up on work, the house however needs work, but a lack of motivation has me planted in front of the boob tube. I even have trouble getting around to logging on here. I'm wistfully longing for the trip to Chicago next week like a kid a expecting Christmas.

This is not good. The brain is going to turn to mush. I'm even feeling guilty about the "Brain Candy" book I'm reading and want to suddenly reach for that damn Howard Zinn that's sitting on the bookshelf, taunting me with it's "I'm educational and interesting, but I'm 800 pages of small type and your lazy ass just can't handle that..."

Also, I'm realizing that I'm not sure how much I should really expound on just how unstimulated I am right now, since, well, when you're resume is out you can never be too sure who's googling you. Actually, I just googled me. You can get to plenty of stories about me and Ken and the lawsuit. There's also linkedin, Facebook, and this little flattering piece of brilliance:



Actually it loops back around and I realize I'm not sure I'd want a prospective employer seeing this... but I wear my heart on my sleeve and I have to be taken as found.

So, okay, I'm not sure what to do about the lack of career satisfaction besides network and regroup. The house has a showing Sunday, so it's gotta get cleaned. I guess it's time to kill the television and break out the Zinn.

Jay does linkies!

Fun with CNN.com

I think this is a dumb-ass question. I'm not a parent - and I'm the first to admit that - but I have amazing respect for anyone who is. It's a tough job regardless of whether your child's a boy or a girl. Boys can have shitty self-esteem just like girls can, and girls can be a handful to discipline. Perhaps the members of the target audience should get together and commiserate on how hard it is, then congratulate themselves on the successes and joys they have with their children.

This goes against everything I represent in life. I do try and do the "smile at the world" suggestion, as it tends to short-circuit my urge to call other drivers in traffic or slow people in lines ahead of me words that could get me thrown off a ship filled with Merchant Marines. That said, even when the glass is half-full, it's usually with a brand I don't like the taste of, anyhow.
(of course that attitude means I'm not being an optimist.)

I'm taking notes... I'm pretty good with these except for number 3. I always blank in an interview if I'm asked if I have any questions for them. Usually I go into this uncharacteristic "happy puppy" mode where I'm so glad I've been asked to be there and get to show off answering their questions that everything I had planned out asking totally goes away. Tabula Rasa.

George Carlin

Shit.
Piss.
Cunt.
Fuck.
Cocksucker.
Motherfucker.
Tits.

(and the also rans: fart, turd, and twat)

Now that that's out of the way, I was thrown and surprisingly upset to hear of the death of George Carlin. Everyone likes a good swearing. Everyone likes observational humor. Everyone likes "angry" humor.

I liked his love of language. I have always admired his comedy and devoured his books. I have a couple CDs of his performances and have both rented and sought out the many, many specials he did on HBO. His willingness to parse language and get to what we mean and how it hides inside what we say was bold and daring. He was willing to call it like he saw it, and point out the bullshit. Even when it's the question of how one boards a plane (you get IN the plane, not ON the plane), he always cleared it up.

He was one of those few people who could swear and be angry and make it feel almost cuddly. He felt like a friend on a good rant.

I like George Carlin. I admired George Carlin. Like many, many people cluttering up the internet pipeline today, I don't have anything original to say about the man... to which I'm sure he'd say "If you don't have anything to say, shut up until you do."

I'm gonna miss George Carlin.

"Feelin' Good" in Sans -Serif

I don't know who TamaraConnelly is, but she's(?) amazingly talented. This song already puts a smile on my face*, but this video is always going to pop into my head now when I hear it...

Check it out!



*you thought I was going to say it made me feel good, didn't you?