Kate’s Window

Atomic clocks, atoms, axis, and microwaves – huh?

November 1, 2009 · 3 Comments

A few years ago,  my wonderful Uncle Jim, (as opposed to my crazy Uncle Charlie), gave us an atomic clock for Christmas.   Actually, Uncle Jim gave everyone atomic clocks for Christmas that year -  round, wood trimmed, plate-sized mysterious atomic clocks.  It’s hanging in the hall, doing its thing, and with no problems. 

It’s fascinating really;  changing from daylight saving time and back again effortlessly.  We’ve never seen it change, you just wake up, and when you turn on the TV for the morning news and the correct time, you realize that Uncle Jim’s clock is the only accurate clock in the house.  

Except for this morning.  I caught a glimpse of this self-regulating clock before I hit the bathroom, kitchen, or living room and it had stopped at 3:47am or thereabouts, as its analog, not digital.  (I hate digital clocks -  I do not want, nor do I need to know, preciously when I get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night!)

But because I’ve seen  Uncle Jim’s clock first and haven’t turned on the TV yet, and I completely forgot about the spring ahead-fall back rule last night, my mind veered of course - it went to the isle of  jamais vu.

Don’t worry - you’ve been there too.  It’s the opposite of déjà vu – that fleeting feeling you’ve been/seen/heard it before ???    Well,  jamais vu is the feeling that you’ve never been/seen/heard it before, yet you know instinctively you have. 

Now, I find myself frozen in front of this mesmerizing clock and my mind is racing through all the absurd reasons why it isn’t working ~  there’s been an electrical power surge, an atomic  power surge, the world has stopped spinning, God has stopped thinking about us.  Well, I said absurd.

When just as quickly,  I return to reason, and remember that this atomic clock runs on batteries, not atoms in my house or in the air.  It actually runs on radio waves – but since I still don’t understand microwaves, batteries are as close to the source as I’m going to get.

I let out a sigh of relief,  continue on to the bathroom, not quite knowing the time but not worried about atoms, the axis of the earth, or God – at least not for Uncle Jim’s clock.

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Obama’s Nobel Peace Prize

October 12, 2009 · 3 Comments

Obama received the Nobel Peace prize “for his extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples.”

I like to think he received the award for HOPE !

HOPE  for the future of peace, not only in the US but for the world; that when visiting countries way off the map he doesn’t sound like a pompous, “I’m the best one in the house” jackass;

HOPE  in the belief of the normal American life and home; afterall his mother-in-law lives with him;

HOPE  in not being afraid to step up and out of the hole we’ve been in for the past dozen or so years;

HOPE  in the black face of America – when we elected him, we practiced what we’ve been preaching since Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation and LBJ signed the Voting Rights Bill !

HOPE – what better extraordinary effort is there.

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Antiquing ~ the ultimate recyling experience.

September 27, 2009 · 1 Comment

As I got into the car  with friends Patsy and Lena, I told hubby we’d be gone all day, “antiquing.”  “Painting furniture?” he said, squinting at me in concentration.   Closing the car door and buckling up, I sighed back, “No, I only wish it were that easy.”

I’ve never been a saver  – but as I’ve gotten older, I’m pretty sure I’m catching the antiquing bug since my friends no longer have to twist my arm to go along on these all day excursions.  Then, when I realized I was also being ecologically and politically correct, I justified the whole thing,  also considering that sooner or later, we’d have to stop to eat.

Poking around  antique stores and malls, hitting the flea markets and yard sales has to be the ultimate recycling experience.  Whether it’s primitive, Victorian, or art deco, why buy something new, when the almost new will do? You can find something you’ve always wanted, never wanted, always needed or never needed, or skip to the end and resell it for a profit on eBay. 

We drove  to one of the towns that have morphed themselves into an antique village , avenues of storefronts; some are individual Anti-Qute Shoppes, some  have become mazes of unique home-made booths; others are forsaken Sears and J. C. Penny stores, re-habbed into rabbit warrens of trash and treasures, from the basement up to the second and third floors. 

Patsy was thrilled  to find some Swanky Swigs   in the first shop we hit.  She remembers these little glasses from the ‘50’s holding Kraft cheese spread, then recycling them into juice glasses – see, nothing’s really new.  Is it too late to start hoarding aerosol cheese cans?

I can’t tell the difference  between cut, pressed, Fenton, or Fostoria, but Lena quickly spotted her collectible Marigold  Carnival  glass three aisles over. 

Lena keeps this stuff  in an eight-sided glass curio cabinet under halogen lights in her living room,  where I’m sure it doubles as a night-light / security system for her entire house.  Keep reading →

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The squeaky wheel does get the …

September 20, 2009 · 4 Comments

I’m a complainer  - so what.

So – a few years ago  I decided to stop complaining and start praising.

Every time  that something good occurred, I made the effort, (a real effort on my part, ’cause I’m basically either too busy or too lazy), to compliment someone on it.  I even took to writing the company, the manager, the boss – whomever, to tell them of my experience and to give someone a pat on the back.

Well – that was futile!

I found  that when I complained, I was rewarded and when I praised I got nothing! 

Complaining  got me coupons, a free drink, maybe a free meal.  If I wrote to complain about a product, I’d get refund checks in the mail, recipes, calendars – all kinds of good stuff: once even a tee shirt.

But, when I praised  someone or something, I’d be lucky to get a thanks, and I was never rewarded – nothing – nada – zip – zilch!

I’m not  speaking of altruism here, but maybe just a reciprocal pat on the back for the one taking the time to thank someone or praise something, would be nice too. 

I wonder if   rewarding praise, with just a teeny-tiny material acknowledgement, would help change the culture of rudeness, self-centeredness, entitlement, self-absorption, self-aggrandizement, self-importance, selfishness  - oh wait – now, we should be talkin’ altruism! 

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Civility is …

September 15, 2009 · Leave a Comment

One of the  best books I’ve ever read!

By Stephen L. Carter  ~ Civility: Manners, Morals, and the Etiquette of Democracy, 1998.

Quoting Carter,  “Civility is the sum of the many sacrifices we are called to make for the sake of living together.”

OK – coming home tonight,  a car was so close, (how close was it,  you ask?), so close that the driver was almost in my passenger seat, trying to pull in front of me, effectively cutting me off. 

I was civil  in that I only held the horn down for a three count!

Didn’t anyone teach  her to be a courteous and a cautious driver?

Opening a door  the other day, entering an office building, a woman w/a phone plastered to her ear, and a mouth moving a million miles a minute, walked toward me and squeezed right through the opening between me and the door jamb, then kept on walking – never saying thanks.

I was civil  in that I only yelled out once – say thanks girlie!  I think it was the “girlie” that got her attention.

These people  were adults, so who didn’t teach them manners as children? 

New Yorkers  interrupt each other regularly – without a moment’s hesitation.  It’s like that Canadian “eh?” thing – “So – we’ll go to the Mall right after work- eh?” 

New Yorkers  will help you finish your sentence, so they can move along to better things – what they want to talk about. 

The civil part  is they will listen to everything you say expecting that you will do the same.   And to maintain civility – I suggest you do.

Where were  the parents, the family, the teachers, the clergy when these uncivil people were growing up?

Out here  in the Midwest, civility means saying yes ma’am and no sir, while all along they are thinking that you’re an airhead.

Being civil  is not telling them that that thought is written in neon flashing letters across their forehead.

Didn’t anyone  punish these people, point out to them when they were rude, offensive, or disrespectful ?  (Not “diss” – that’s a fightin’ word.) 

They were  probably trying to be civil by not giving them a head-smack every ten seconds. 

That’s why I LOVE NCIS  that Gibbs/Harmon fella’.   That’s someone I could roll over and be real civil to.

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