Carol H Tucker Passionate about knowledge management and organizational development, expert in loan servicing, virtual world denizen and community facilitator, and a DISNEY fan
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beladona Memorial Be warned:in this very rich environment where you can immerse yourself so completely, your emotions will become engaged -- and not everyone is cognizant of that. Among the many excellent features of SL, there is no auto-return on hearts, so be wary of where your's wanders...
I stumbled across an interesting blog post about events like 9.11, describing mega-events like this as rings in a tree for society:
The very center point, or origin, is the event itself.The event is just the series of actions that were taken, nothing more and nothing less. Let’s create a workable metaphor for this event, for example: Jane climbs up a tree in her yard and falls out of the tree. When she lands, she breaks her leg.
The next ring is how this event effected you. What personally happened to you, while that event was running it’s course. This would be the physical pain Jane felt from the broken bones. Who came and helped her to the hospital? Her reaction to pain, hospital and embarrassment of falling.
The final, and the most important, is how was all these series of actions were perceived by you, post event. Did Jane ever climb a tree again? Is she afraid of heights? Because Tommy laughed at her, she is no longer friends with him? Is she afraid of doctors? Doesn’t like hospitals? etc.
You lose the stories of past mega-events as generations move on. Where were my grandparents when they learned that the US was going to WWI? Where were they are Black Monday? I have no idea, although I have heard stories about how they coped with the war and the depression and the aftermath. My mother and father were at the movies on Pearl Harbor Day -- I wasn't there, of course, but heard the stories about it from parents and grandparents -- but although I told my kids those stories, it meant little to them. I was at junior high school when JFK was shot -- and have told the story many times to my kids, but it was just part of history to them and I doubt that they remember that anymore than the stories about my parents and Pearl Harbor Day. Frank and I were in the Animal Kingdom of WDW on 9.11, Gem was at work and Tom was sleeping -- we have shared our stories, of course, but this is the only event that is real to Tom and Gem because they were there and saw not only the event but lived through the aftermath the changes wrought.
Interestingly, all three events loom large in US history, not global history. Each of the three gain notice internationally because the US subsequently and substantially altered the way it behaved, and that has impacted the rest of the world.
Little things that happen when you part ways... Used to have a picture of our handfasting over the fireplace that needed to come down. I don't like these pictures totally, but I will find the right thing eventually....
Separation in SL is simple. Just check a box, pay $25L and it is done.
You and your Second Life Partner have parted ways. Searaven has decided to end the partnership.
Best Regards,
Your Friends at Linden Lab
From Friday, January 9th, 2009 at 9PM EST to Sunday, September 4th, 2011 at 1PM EDT I cherished and relied on the mantra "we are together". We will remain, I hope, dear friends, but something has been irrevocably lost.
Thank you everyone who is following me. But you know what? I only post when I have something to say -- just like I only blog when I have the time and energy [and something to say]. And I only share links when I find them interesting. And I don't usually re-share things. So don't think that just because I am quiet, I am not thinking or reading or paying attention, okay?
oh -- and happy Monday [ye gods I need a vacation! Will someone PLEASE get the Calvinistic attitude out of the US workplace?]
I am sick and tired of hearing the word "entitlement" used for Social Security and Medicare. You know what? I have been paying into it since I was 15 AND I had to pay tax on what I paid in. My employers counted their contributions to FICA as part of my salary and adjusted my gross accordingly. Because there was Social Security, pensions went the way of the dodo bird and were replaced by 401K plans that were tied to the stock market. Because there was Medicare, retirement benefits mandate that you have to go off of their insurance coverage as soon as you are eligible. It isn't an "entitlement", I bloody well paid for it even when I couldn't afford to because that money came out of my paycheck before I got it. Nobody asked me, they just did it.
Congress has been raiding the fund for other purposes since the 80's -- no wonder the till is empty! So now after some 46 years of paying into the system, I get told that it is an "entitlement" and the program has to be cut. You know what, Uncle Sam? You don't want to give me what you promised? Fine with me -- I don't particularly trust you anyway. JUST GIVE ME BACK MY MONEY!
I was vain of my legs. From the hem down I was a knock-out. Even when heavy, when the thighs would get meaty, I never carried much weight on the calves, and the ankles remained shapely. I used to work in 4" heels, standing on my feet for hours at a time. I never kicked off my shoes when dancing -- priding myself on being able to last the entire night. Like Ginger Rogers, I could do everything my partner did in heels and backwards.
Of course there were pants and long skirts in my wardrobe -- but I wore shorter skirts even when dressed casual. And stockings -- I spent a fortune in stockings, sheer dark taupe or black were my favorites
And shoes! Boxes and boxes of shoes! I was no Imelda, but I had over a hundred shoes, all heels, in all colors. I kept them in boxes, sorted by color and season...
The problem started two summers ago when I was getting sicker and sicker from an untreated MRSA infection. At first I thought it was just fluid -- I always had a problem with retaining fluid. The doctor prescribed diaretics but I didn't take them. Years and years ago, a GP I really trusted told me not to take fluid pills if I could keep from doing it because the way that I retained fluid meant that someday I was going to have problems with congestive heart failure and he didn't want my body to get used to the diaretics because they would save my life at some point.
I had a new job, and casual dress was the order of theday. Without noticing it, I stopped wearing the heels -- indeed, I never unpacked them from the move. The next summer came -- I had gained weight and grumbled that some of the sandals didn't fit anymore. I complained to the doctor, and he told me to start taking the fluid pills but the problem kept getting worse. By fall none of my boots fit and I couldn't walk in heels without my ankles hurting. I started wearing support hose -- girdles for my ankles that make my whole leg swell instead of just my feet basically.
Finally I complained enough that the doctor stopped making comments about weight and age and sent me for tests. Turns out that I have Chronic venous insufficiency . Some folks get varicose veins -- I get marshmellow legs and feet.
At the top of the picture we have the hugely bloated ankle
in the middle we have the mark showing where the shoe was
And then there is the rest of the foot -- it has been in a shoe all day and is pretty much normal sized.....
So I I have stopped wearing skirts completely, am down to about a dozen pair of shoes, and hobble like a cripple when I stiffen up. There isn't much I can do except refuse to become immobilized.
There are boxes of shoes and boots in the disaster area that will have to be given away...
It is a hot summer late afternoon -- Thursday, July 29th, 2009 around 4PM. I had taken a couple days off from my new job for the purpose of moving -- when I lost my job and took a new one, I had taken a substantial cut in pay and had to downsize the apartment. Mind you, I was in a three bedroom place because I had originally had my mother moved in with me, and every room was full, so there had been a lot of downsizing.... I had already gotten rid of a couple thousand books, taken things to Goodwill and given away boxes of crafts. I gave away Grandmom Riley's dining room set and my childhood bed and nightstand. The guy from FIOS had just left and my new apartment was cabled at last. I get a phone call from the movers, asking if they could come today rather than tomorrow to move me because it is such an easy move -- only a one-bedroom apartment and some boxes to go from the 19th floor to the 20th floor using an elevator....
They were not happy campers. Apparently my "some boxes" were far more than they expected. I had carefully made arrangements as to where the boxes were to go for storage in the second bedroom, but the guys were exhausted by 10PM and they started stacking the boxes in the middle of the room just to get it over with. I had three more days of emptying closets myself ahead of me and firmly closed the door of the room, thinking I would get to it later....
I was very ill from an untreated MRSA infection that had been ravaging my body for seven months. My daughter finally realized that the doctor I was going to was not recognizing the problem and switched physcians, making sure that I started getting care in September. My mother had to downsize from an apartment to a room in the assisted living home and more boxes arrived in early November. Then the holidays came....
I had boxes sitting in the dining room, in the living room and in the bedroom that had to be unpacked, but everytime I tried, I had no place to put anything in this smaller apartment.... Things just sat. And sat. And sat.
Recently I finally managed to get all of the boxes that were sitting out put away! Flush from a successful office relocation, I decided to tackle the second bedroom that I had derisively labeld the "disaster area" and opened the door....
What is in here? Clothing that I haven't worn in two years -- souvenir Tshirts and sweatshirts and things that are two small for me. Huge boxes of shoes and boots -- western and dress -- that I can't wear anymore because my feet are so swollen and misshapen now. My mother's things and I have no idea what is in those boxes. Knicknacks that used to be on my bookshelves. Pillows. Old office records. A six-foot Christmas tree and several boxes of decorations. My stuff pig collection. Boxes of pictures.
Back in 2009, before Mira and Sahar and Bela Enchanted, I was very pleased that I managed to get this picture in SL -- of course, I didn't notice the "tags" until the pciture was completed....
I have mentioned that I hate moving, right? Our office is doing just that -- and guess who gets to coordinate and arrange? AND at the end of month/quarter....
CEOExpress
showing where the shoe was
