Today was an ambitious day in some respects. I spent the morning cleaning the kitchen, making homemade bread and putting dinner in the crock pot. It wasn’t a spectacular day in terms of health but I needed to be on my feet because it hurts like heck to stay in bed. I also tackled some bead-sorting. No, that’s not a euphemism. I’ve got a buttload of beading supplies and while most of them are at least somewhat organized, I inherited a whole bunch of poorly-made lanyards in mighty tiny seed beads. They’re single-strand things, ugly as sin and strung on cheap thread very little stronger than your average sewing thread. Definitely not strong enough to be practical lanyards.
As a result I’ve been pulling them apart and sorting the beads by color. Which is a real challenge because the only places with enough space are the bed and the kitchen table. The kitchen table is pub height and while it looks gorgeous I would kill to trade it for a normal-height table. I can typically make it just barely long enough to eat a meal before I have to move to someplace more comfortable.
Did I mention I’m technically about normal height for a woman, at 5’4″, but that I have stubby legs? Like crazy stubby legs? And that my legs dangling over those damned tall chairs is murder on my back?
G refuses to consider selling the thing until we get the house. His reasoning is that we won’t know what we need until we know what kind of space we’ll have. I’m at the point of saving time and bashing him over the head and just doing whatever the heck I want to. Yes, I know I paid for the set, and all that jazz. And if I wanted to do so I’d just give G a swift kick and do whatever I want to. I haven’t hit that point yet mainly because I haven’t had time to take a good photo of the set to put it on Craigslist. That’s probably coming this week.
Meh, I’ll probably let him live. He did make a sale this week which is enough to actually help us. We’re hundred-aires, if you will. Not hundreds, but hundred anyway. It helps.
Gotta give the man credit for his scavenging abilities when he gets a chance.
I’m in a reasonably good mood, in fact. Poolie is coming in a couple of weeks and bringing her friend from the Netherlands! Yay! If that’s not reason to celebrate I don’t know what is.
I’m also reading this book. (The photo links to its Amazon page.) I was kind of expecting the woo-woo factor, all kinds of new-agey stuff. While I’m okay with the new-age aspects, this book followed a surprising trajectory.
The author takes a scientific approach to the afterlife and to what makes up human consciousness. He reports the results of scientific experiments on out-of-body experiments, including one subject with a “hit” rate of 140 out of 175 attempts. As if that weren’t enough on its own, the experiment put the subject in sealed room A and the controlled information in sealed room B. There was no way to cheat because the subject was recorded on video and hooked to a multi-line electronic umbilical that recorded all his vital signs, etc.
There was also video and other recording instrumentation in the room where the information resided. It was interesting that for every “hit” the motion sensors went off in the sealed room where the information was held, indicating that an out-of-body experience generates some type of physical phenomenon in its process.
That’s just in the first couple of chapters. The next chapter is slightly more esoteric as it begins to recount historic ghostly encounters and how they were recorded and reported. Preference is given to phenomena where there were multiple witnesses, etc.
Like I said, very interesting stuff. My biggest issue with the book is that every time I sit down to read I get interrupted!
Oh yes – they lyre part above? My instrument in high school. I’d played violin for years but when we moved to Arizona there were no orchestras here, just the ubiquitous marching band. The band master decreed I had two choices: I could teach myself to play cello and attach the instrument to a roller skate, or I could play the bell lyre. (Yes, he said that verbatim. And he meant it – he wanted the cello.) I chose the lyre. After violin it was kind of a brainless option. I could read and write music and played piano, and the bars were laid out pretty much like a sideways piano or marimba. There was no finesse to it – you just smacked the heck out of the corresponding metal bars with a mallet.
I banged out a few keys in the intro to “One Tin Soldier” and I was golden.