I love a roof as much as the next person. I see their importance – keeping out the elements, protecting people and property. I also see the importance of a well-maintained roof. But I don’t see why that roof has to be repaired while I’m under it.
Roofers pound and grind away at the roof of my office building in the middle of the day. I’m trying to concentrate on the task at hand. But the noise precludes real concentration. One would think that roofers could start at daybreak – before the office is full of people. Or late in the afternoon – we have sunlight until nearly 9 p.m. Or weekends are good too. It seems to me that working in the heat of the day would be dangerous. Not to mention the fact that I could get to a point of wanting to kill one of them.
Not having the authority to stop them (by legal means), I will endure. But oh, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!
Thursday, June 29, 2006
What are you worth?
According to this story a woman is auctioning her Ferrari Enzo and herself with a starting bid of 1.25 million euros ($1.6 million). The Enzo on its own is worth between $600,000 and $1 million, so she’s saying she’s worth about the same. While that is a lot of money, I don’t know that I would sell myself that short.
Even if I only made $30k a year and work for 30 years, I'll earn more than a million dollars. Add to that my companionship, sex, cooking, cleaning, etc.
But can you really put a price on a person's life? Do you really want to auction yourself off to the highest bidder? Then again, would you want to auction your Ferrari to the highest bidder? What a world!
Even if I only made $30k a year and work for 30 years, I'll earn more than a million dollars. Add to that my companionship, sex, cooking, cleaning, etc.
But can you really put a price on a person's life? Do you really want to auction yourself off to the highest bidder? Then again, would you want to auction your Ferrari to the highest bidder? What a world!
Monday, June 26, 2006
June 26 – Good day/bad day
My dad’s dad was born this day in 1888. He lived to be 98 years old. My mom was born this day in 1937. My mom’s brother and sister were born on her ninth birthday, and she lost another younger brother to cancer on this day in 1988, less than two weeks after her father died. When I was growing up we had a family reunion and birthday party every year on or near June 26. We started them about the time Grandpa turned 88 and continued them for 10 more years. They were always happy times with everyone gathering together to celebrate the patriarch of this large family – eight children, 24 grandchildren and even a few great grandchildren before Grandpa died. I love that my grandparents stayed married for over 50 years despite 25 years difference in their ages.
I always associated June 26 as a good day growing up – Mom’s birthday, Grandpa’s birthday and a chance to see my cousins. We continued the reunions for a few years after Grandpa was gone but when Grandma went into a nursing home, they fizzled out.
This year, my dad’s younger brother is dying from brain tumors. So, when my mom called to thank me for the flowers I sent her, I assumed she was calling with bad news. I haven’t seen my uncle since my grandmother’s funeral nearly 10 years ago. I know I’ll be sad when it happens but why? I’m not cold-hearted, but will I miss someone I haven’t seen in years? No. Will I feel sad because he’s still fairly young? Yes. Will I feel bad for my dad? Of course. But I also mourn the loss of my own youth, and I fear the inevitability of my parents deaths and yes, my own.
So, here’s to June 26 with the hope that it will pass without adding another milestone to my family’s life.
I always associated June 26 as a good day growing up – Mom’s birthday, Grandpa’s birthday and a chance to see my cousins. We continued the reunions for a few years after Grandpa was gone but when Grandma went into a nursing home, they fizzled out.
This year, my dad’s younger brother is dying from brain tumors. So, when my mom called to thank me for the flowers I sent her, I assumed she was calling with bad news. I haven’t seen my uncle since my grandmother’s funeral nearly 10 years ago. I know I’ll be sad when it happens but why? I’m not cold-hearted, but will I miss someone I haven’t seen in years? No. Will I feel sad because he’s still fairly young? Yes. Will I feel bad for my dad? Of course. But I also mourn the loss of my own youth, and I fear the inevitability of my parents deaths and yes, my own.
So, here’s to June 26 with the hope that it will pass without adding another milestone to my family’s life.
The land of race car ya yas
I can appreciate fast cars. I really enjoy a car that jumps off the line and pushes you back in your seat. One of my favorite test drives was the Volkswagen GTI. I had a car tailgating me on the interstate. I just pushed the accelerator down (I didn’t even punch it) and next thing I knew I was doing 80. Cool.
I really can’t appreciate the cars that look cheap, sound like crap but are apparently fast – or at the very least are driven by guys who think their cars are fast. Granted, almost anything is going to be faster than my Jeep. But, I’m not impressed with the late model Bonneville with the loud pipes and the busted door handles. I’m not impressed with the fast and furious paint job – that usually just means they painted it fast and furiously. Are they overcompensating for something?
On a recent evening, driving home about 9 p.m., I had a group of three or four of these “hot” cars switching lanes back and forth in front of me. I mostly laughed it off until one of them practically sideswiped me trying to get in my lane. Because (as I’ve said before) I try to watch for other drivers, I saw him and avoided an accident. I know these boys were only trying to impress each other and don’t care what I think. And I know it’s all about who (thinks he) has the bigger cajones but it’s times like these that I want that fast car. I could show them all who really has the biggest ya yas.
I really can’t appreciate the cars that look cheap, sound like crap but are apparently fast – or at the very least are driven by guys who think their cars are fast. Granted, almost anything is going to be faster than my Jeep. But, I’m not impressed with the late model Bonneville with the loud pipes and the busted door handles. I’m not impressed with the fast and furious paint job – that usually just means they painted it fast and furiously. Are they overcompensating for something?
On a recent evening, driving home about 9 p.m., I had a group of three or four of these “hot” cars switching lanes back and forth in front of me. I mostly laughed it off until one of them practically sideswiped me trying to get in my lane. Because (as I’ve said before) I try to watch for other drivers, I saw him and avoided an accident. I know these boys were only trying to impress each other and don’t care what I think. And I know it’s all about who (thinks he) has the bigger cajones but it’s times like these that I want that fast car. I could show them all who really has the biggest ya yas.
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