Seems as if this is the Year of the Crane Accidents. Just a couple days ago, August 28, 2008, this one occurred in Dallas, Texas. Click here or here to read more about it. If I'm counting correctly (and I think I am) this is the third accident to happen in Dallas this year.
I've mentioned the seemingly numerous crane accidents before. And since those posts, there have been a couple others in the news that I have not mentioned here.
Some genius out there could make a fortune by designing and producing a computerized module incoporated into the crane itself that would figure in all the factors involved in a given crane effort, a module that would immediately ring alarm if any one factor gets out of whack...if the item being moved is too heavy, if the wind is too forceful, if the angle of lift is way offfff in regards to safety. And surely, it might be a good idea if all persons non-essential to the task were outside of the radius of a potential fall.
But then again, perhaps a committee is already in place to avert or prevent further accidents. Surely??? Somewhere???? Someone?????
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Sunday, August 31, 2008
How Fast Can You Type?
I worked 33 years as a secretary. I guess I could say typing is my forte. I took this little test and found that I can still type 90 words per minute. How about you? 90 words
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Farewell, Trusty Friend
I'm in a dilemma. I have to make a decision. Some decisions are easy but this one means I will have to let go of sentimentality.
It's my cell phone. I've had my old simple, basic cell phone for several years. It's the one that I accidentally dumped into the ocean while visiting Maui almost three years ago. I grabbed it out of the shallow water as quickly as I could and it began buzzing frantically due to the salt water shorting out its circuits. Fortunately I was smart enough to hastily remove the battery. Then I went online and googled (Ah! Another rescue by Google!) how to salvage my cell phone.
Here is a quick synopsis of how to save your cell phone if you drop it in water...just in case you are ever on the beaches of Maui and careless with your phone. (Or if you are elsewhere and drop your cell phone in the toilet -- or the kitchen sink -- or wherever)
And now I'm going to read the instruction book on the RAZR. After all, I'm a woman, and women always do that. Read instructions. Don't they? Or am I the only one???
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It's my cell phone. I've had my old simple, basic cell phone for several years. It's the one that I accidentally dumped into the ocean while visiting Maui almost three years ago. I grabbed it out of the shallow water as quickly as I could and it began buzzing frantically due to the salt water shorting out its circuits. Fortunately I was smart enough to hastily remove the battery. Then I went online and googled (Ah! Another rescue by Google!) how to salvage my cell phone.
Here is a quick synopsis of how to save your cell phone if you drop it in water...just in case you are ever on the beaches of Maui and careless with your phone. (Or if you are elsewhere and drop your cell phone in the toilet -- or the kitchen sink -- or wherever)
- Briefly rinse phone and battery under the kitchen faucet to remove any salt (or other crud). The idea is to remove salt but not to soak it further. This baby is already wet. Rinse it only long enough to remove the bad stuff. Be brief but thorough. Swish it quickly and go to Step Two. (If your phone has a memory card, remove and rinse it as well. And if you dropped it in plain, non-salty, CLEAN water, disregard this step.)
- Dry with a kitchen towel. As thoroughly as possible, including any crevices and ports. Wick that moisture out with a corner of the fabric or a Q-tip!
- Find a warm dry spot. (I turned on my oven for a short 30 seconds to warm it...the rack should be warm but not hot to the touch. Then I turned on the oven light to keep it warm. Warning! Do Not use a Hot Oven and Do Not Leave the Oven ON!) I've heard of people placing their phones on the dash of their car and letting solar energy provide the warmth to dry it but it would seem that might get a bit hot if you live in Death Valley or some such place...use some sense here.
- Place the phone and its battery in this warm spot AT LEAST 24 hours before re-connecting the battery. Forty-eight is even better...if you can stand the suspense that long. If you re-connect while your phone still holds moisture you run the risk of shorting it out completely and your end result will be a dead phone.
- In my case, I waited about 36 hours before placing the battery back on the phone and it worked fine.
And now I'm going to read the instruction book on the RAZR. After all, I'm a woman, and women always do that. Read instructions. Don't they? Or am I the only one???
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Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Mother's Jewels Home for Orphans in York, Nebraska
According to this website Mothers' Jewels Home was established in York, Nebraska, in 1889 by the Women's Home Missionary Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church. The intent was to provide care for orphaned and abandoned children in the central United States. Over the years the home provided care for thousands of homeless children.
My grandmother lived there for some time. I've been playing with genealogy and found her listed in the 1910 census as an "inmate" at the orphanage along with 74 other "inmates".
During my childhood I loved talking to my grandmother. She was a bouncy, cheerful soul. She loved chatting and laughing with me. It was Grandma who taught me how to knit and crochet. She could whip out a knit shawl in record time.
Grandma made the niftiest crocheted fly-swatter covers. She stitched a three-dimensional flower to one side of the swatter. Perhaps you don't know what a fly-swatter is. Perhaps you don't have flies. Perhaps you're too young to remember hot sweltering days in the kitchen (before air-conditioning) when an open screen door was an open invitation to 20 million flies. Believe me, 20 million flies in the kitchen with the cook meant someone had to DO something. And so whichever one of us was not directly working toward the meal was assigned the fly-swatter routine.
Several fly-swatters hung on a nail on the kitchen wall. One was 'decorated' with Grandma's crocheted flower. It was for decoration only and hence, unused. Whoever was assigned the task of reducing the fly population would grab one of the 'working' swatters and go to work, counting success out loud -- one, two, three. To hit two flies with one swat was a real hoot! But back to Grandma.
Her mother and her twin sister died when Grandma was born. I don't know if the twin was ever named but Grandma was given the middle name of "Late", indicating that she was the second of the two girls. She had at least two older siblings. (There may have also been a previous wife and half-siblings...I'm still researching that.) Their father remarried after Grandma was born and she told me that their stepmother was kind to them and life was good.
Life took a turn for the worse when Grandma was seven years old. Her father became ill at the railroad roundhouse where he worked. His supervisor sent him home and he died some hours later. He was 48 years old. Someone walked to the school and brought Grandma and her sisters home to hear the news. Th
ey were orphans. And even though they had a stepmother, the girls were sent elsewhere to live. Gramma ended up at Mother's Jewels Home as an orphan-inmate. You can click on the 1910 census image for a close-up and see that the children were classified as Inmates therein.
I don't know much about Grandma's life during those next few years. She did speak of leaving the home at some point and working as a "mother's helper" in a home where she was ill-treated. I don't know the story of how she met and married my grandfather. But I have visited the homestead where they raised their family of five. Standing in front of the now-abandoned home I think this must have been a good place to raise a family.
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My grandmother lived there for some time. I've been playing with genealogy and found her listed in the 1910 census as an "inmate" at the orphanage along with 74 other "inmates".
During my childhood I loved talking to my grandmother. She was a bouncy, cheerful soul. She loved chatting and laughing with me. It was Grandma who taught me how to knit and crochet. She could whip out a knit shawl in record time.
Grandma made the niftiest crocheted fly-swatter covers. She stitched a three-dimensional flower to one side of the swatter. Perhaps you don't know what a fly-swatter is. Perhaps you don't have flies. Perhaps you're too young to remember hot sweltering days in the kitchen (before air-conditioning) when an open screen door was an open invitation to 20 million flies. Believe me, 20 million flies in the kitchen with the cook meant someone had to DO something. And so whichever one of us was not directly working toward the meal was assigned the fly-swatter routine.
Several fly-swatters hung on a nail on the kitchen wall. One was 'decorated' with Grandma's crocheted flower. It was for decoration only and hence, unused. Whoever was assigned the task of reducing the fly population would grab one of the 'working' swatters and go to work, counting success out loud -- one, two, three. To hit two flies with one swat was a real hoot! But back to Grandma.
Her mother and her twin sister died when Grandma was born. I don't know if the twin was ever named but Grandma was given the middle name of "Late", indicating that she was the second of the two girls. She had at least two older siblings. (There may have also been a previous wife and half-siblings...I'm still researching that.) Their father remarried after Grandma was born and she told me that their stepmother was kind to them and life was good.
Life took a turn for the worse when Grandma was seven years old. Her father became ill at the railroad roundhouse where he worked. His supervisor sent him home and he died some hours later. He was 48 years old. Someone walked to the school and brought Grandma and her sisters home to hear the news. Th
ey were orphans. And even though they had a stepmother, the girls were sent elsewhere to live. Gramma ended up at Mother's Jewels Home as an orphan-inmate. You can click on the 1910 census image for a close-up and see that the children were classified as Inmates therein.I don't know much about Grandma's life during those next few years. She did speak of leaving the home at some point and working as a "mother's helper" in a home where she was ill-treated. I don't know the story of how she met and married my grandfather. But I have visited the homestead where they raised their family of five. Standing in front of the now-abandoned home I think this must have been a good place to raise a family.
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Tuesday, August 26, 2008
There are a Lot of People Wanting Your Money!
Seems like it's just one crook after another. Or perhaps it is just the way today's business world does business. For my previous rants about debit and credit card fraud and unauthorized withdrawals from checking accounts read here.
Today I'm looking at another possible scam. A family member called and said she had received a bill in the mail for a subscription to Fitness Magazine. The funny thing is, this person never ordered the magazine. So she went online to find out if others were being scammed in a similar way. Sure enough, she found similar complaints here. (Isn't Google a lifesaver!) By the way you can find a toll-free number at that same site in case you, too, have been a victim.
It's so convenient these days to use 'automatic bill pay' or to go online to pay bills or to use debit and credit cards for purchases. These all make it easier to navigate through our days without carrying cash or writing checks. However, it also makes it easier to be scammed by crooks who know how to cheat the systems and how to steal your identity. Whether you are young or old, the crooks want YOUR money! Be Wise!
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Today I'm looking at another possible scam. A family member called and said she had received a bill in the mail for a subscription to Fitness Magazine. The funny thing is, this person never ordered the magazine. So she went online to find out if others were being scammed in a similar way. Sure enough, she found similar complaints here. (Isn't Google a lifesaver!) By the way you can find a toll-free number at that same site in case you, too, have been a victim.
It's so convenient these days to use 'automatic bill pay' or to go online to pay bills or to use debit and credit cards for purchases. These all make it easier to navigate through our days without carrying cash or writing checks. However, it also makes it easier to be scammed by crooks who know how to cheat the systems and how to steal your identity. Whether you are young or old, the crooks want YOUR money! Be Wise!
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Monday, August 25, 2008
It's So Impersonal!
We live 45 minutes from a large city and sometimes when I am up there for other business I stop at the Wally Mart to pick up items that I cannot find in our small town.
Recently I'm beginning to think it's not worth the effort. Frankly, Mr. Wally, I detest your self-checkout lines. The machines are slow, the instructions confusing, and the bagging system stinks. Worse, your people clerks are slow as well! Still...if I have my druthers I'd rather deal with them than the self-checkout. At least I feel that by doing so I'm helping someone else maintain a job for whatever that is worth.
Somehow I'm offended by your self-checkout. It's so impersonal. It's offensive. It's as if my good-will is not important enough for you to 'wait on me' as I exit your store.
It's offensive enough that I'm already approaching my hometown business asking them to stock the items I need. My home town gets my $$$, I save walking the length of a football field to pick up a carton of soymilk and I don't have to deal with your self-checkout.
Oh, Please, Mr. Mike of Hometown Business, PLEASE do not install self-checkouts! PUH-LEEZE!!!
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Recently I'm beginning to think it's not worth the effort. Frankly, Mr. Wally, I detest your self-checkout lines. The machines are slow, the instructions confusing, and the bagging system stinks. Worse, your people clerks are slow as well! Still...if I have my druthers I'd rather deal with them than the self-checkout. At least I feel that by doing so I'm helping someone else maintain a job for whatever that is worth.
Somehow I'm offended by your self-checkout. It's so impersonal. It's offensive. It's as if my good-will is not important enough for you to 'wait on me' as I exit your store.
It's offensive enough that I'm already approaching my hometown business asking them to stock the items I need. My home town gets my $$$, I save walking the length of a football field to pick up a carton of soymilk and I don't have to deal with your self-checkout.
Oh, Please, Mr. Mike of Hometown Business, PLEASE do not install self-checkouts! PUH-LEEZE!!!
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Saturday, August 23, 2008
It Looked Like a Major Disaster Scene!!
Last week I had an assortment of things to take to a local thrift shop where proceeds benefit the hospital auxiliary. In the pile was a red wool jacket, and I sez to myself, "Why not felt this wool and use it for some crafty project?" I think I'm pretty crafty (as in clever) to come up with this nifty recycling idea.
So I read instructions on how to felt wool fabric and tossed the coat into the washing machine, turned on the hot water, and headed upstairs. I returned to the basement some time later. I reached into the machine to pull out the jacket to toss it into the dryer. It was Sopping Wet! The machine must have become unbalanced during the spin cycle and shut itself down.
Well! When I pulled that jacket up out of the machine I splashed water all over the place (thankfully, not on me!). This was not just plain, ordinary water. No, Sirree! This was Blood Red water. I felt as if I was in the midst of the First Plague in Exodus! Blood-red water splashed everywhere making my washroom look like the scene of a major homicide! Anyone else might have called 911 but I'm a cool-thinker and managed to avoid pushing the panic button.
I've prewashed fabrics for my quilting ventures. I've prewashed RED fabrics before and have had to toss only one or two pieces that simply would not stop bleeding. There are some red fabrics that will never be safe to wash with other fabrics. No matter how many rinses. No matter how many attempts to use vinegar or some commercial product that is supposed to bind the dye.
Nope. Wasn't going to even THINK about re-washing! Nope. Tossed that little red jacket (it was little now...the idea of felting is that the wool shrinks!) into the trash. Minus three black buttons which I salvaged for my button jar.
Maybe I can use the buttons to teach the grandkids how to make a Button on a String.
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So I read instructions on how to felt wool fabric and tossed the coat into the washing machine, turned on the hot water, and headed upstairs. I returned to the basement some time later. I reached into the machine to pull out the jacket to toss it into the dryer. It was Sopping Wet! The machine must have become unbalanced during the spin cycle and shut itself down.
Well! When I pulled that jacket up out of the machine I splashed water all over the place (thankfully, not on me!). This was not just plain, ordinary water. No, Sirree! This was Blood Red water. I felt as if I was in the midst of the First Plague in Exodus! Blood-red water splashed everywhere making my washroom look like the scene of a major homicide! Anyone else might have called 911 but I'm a cool-thinker and managed to avoid pushing the panic button.
I've prewashed fabrics for my quilting ventures. I've prewashed RED fabrics before and have had to toss only one or two pieces that simply would not stop bleeding. There are some red fabrics that will never be safe to wash with other fabrics. No matter how many rinses. No matter how many attempts to use vinegar or some commercial product that is supposed to bind the dye.
Nope. Wasn't going to even THINK about re-washing! Nope. Tossed that little red jacket (it was little now...the idea of felting is that the wool shrinks!) into the trash. Minus three black buttons which I salvaged for my button jar.
Maybe I can use the buttons to teach the grandkids how to make a Button on a String.
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