I was almost run down by a car.

I was almost hit by a car yesterday. Here is how it happened:

I am currently residing in Chicago while I direct a fabulous play. I am staying with my Favorite Youngest Son, AJ. After a nice lunch at an Ethiopian restaurant with Favorite Youngest Son AJ, we were walking back to his apartment. We were crossing the street ON THE CROSS WALK. We were observing the traffic signals and only crossing WITH OUR WALKING MAN SIGNAL. A man felt it was okay to chat with his girlfriend-- making all important eye contact with her instead of the road-- while he made his left turn.

Almost into me.

Son AJ shouted.

I screamed.

Thank heaven, the shout or the scream caused idiot-driver-lover-boy to slam on the brakes.

The bumper of his car was less than an inch from my knees.

That was my cardio for the day.

Then, I went off to rehearsal and then returned to find SOMEONE PARKED IN MY BOUGHT-AND-PAID-FOR PARKING SPACE.

I was ALL CAPS UNHAPPY.

I am heading out this morning to right the above mentioned wrong.

And go to rehearsal.

Time is gobbled up

I have about two weeks to: * clean my house from top to bottom * shop and prep for Thanksgiving * complete the fantasy novel I am writing Panic much? My house is in disarray in part because I have been directing a play during all of October. The rehearsals (and the show itself) took place an hour or more from my home - depending on traffic. Then I was working most days with my Adventures in Substitute Teaching. Luckily, just got a message from my sister that my nephews are looking to earn some money. Looks like I have a cleaning crew- now I need to schedule them!

Rockin' the Rewards, Rollin' the Rebates

When planning my trip to visit my Dear Daughter in Jackson, Mississippi, she was trying to help me scope out possibilities for flights as opposed to my driving down- solo. The short version of the story is that for the time span I wanted, the flights weren't really cheap.

It's cheaper to drive. Then I have more flexibility, too.

And, I said to my daughter, I don't mind the drive.

Also- I didn't mention, but I will mention now, in this current quarter, I get additional reward points when I use my credit card at gas stations.

I work all the reward and rebate angles I can.

This quarter, my main credit card, in addition to the 1% on all purchases, is awarding 5% on purchases at gas stations.

When I accumulate enough points, I ask them to cut me a reward check for real money.

But that's not the only way I'm accumulating points. Because, during the month of July, if I make purchases on 10 separate days at my usual gas station, and use *their* reward card, I will get 7000 bonus points on my gas station rewards card.

I can't get *cash* back with this card. However, when I accumulate enough points, I redeem these rewards for gift cards. One holiday, I was able to get 3 different $25 gift cards just with reward points.

I have so many reward cards that it's hard to keep track of them all. I have reward cards for gas, office supplies, printer ink, pet supplies, groceries (2 different chains), cinema, restaurants, department stores. I use some cards more than others, but I have a ton.

Plus the credit card reward program.

One of my restaurant cards is a "club". We pay $59 a year for the club; in return, we get $59 credit towards food, 20% discount on food at the restaurant, a free brunch for me on my birthday, and a free brunch for my husband on his birthday, a free brunch on our anniversary AND on the anniversary of the restaurant. AND 20 free passes to the Comedy Club in the basement  of said restaurant. SUCH a deal!

Since we dine out, and enjoy taking friends to the comedy club, it feels like a deal to us. And since we buy drinks- which aren't covered by the discounts or credits- and because when we redeem the free birthday brunch we buy brunch for the one who *isn't* having a birthday, it works out well for the restaurant, too.

I love working the rewards system. This is how I score better wine: I look at what wine is on sale. I see a nice pinot noir, regular price $23.99, on sale when I use my card for $14.99. BUT WAIT! If I  buy 4 or more bottles of any wines, I get an additional 10% of the sale price! Winning!!

AND, with this grocery reward card, every time I use the card, the store donates a percentage of what I spend to the charity of my choice. I have them donate to my theater troupe.

WINNING!

What was I saying? Oh, yeah...

So, I drove to visit Dear Daughter. Next quarter, though, gas stations are done- we are on to Amazon gift cards and department stores for the holidays. So then I could fly.

Litter on the Information Superhighway

The "Information Superhighway" is one of the names we once gave the Internet and World Wide Web.

Lately, I've been thinking about the trash, litter and abandoned rusty vehicles we've been leaving behind.

I need to clean up the old Livejournal, MySpace, and started-then-abandoned blogs, email entities and web pages that I've left behind.

There are links to functions that I no longer have, positions that I no longer have- jobs I have grown out of or out grown.

It's still out there. Litter and clutter.

Why I don't (currently) donate to my universities

I am a graduate of two universities- one for undergrad and one for my graduate work. I have donated to both universities in the past. Sometimes, in spite of appeals, I have not donated, due to lack of funds.

Currently, I am receiving plenty of appeals for donations from both universities. Currently, I could afford to donate something- maybe not the "suggested donation" level, but something. Currently, I am not donating. Here are the reasons:

My undergraduate alma mater cannot spell my name right. This in spite of the fact that on my donations in the past, I either received a correct spelling- or, I corrected the spelling the first time or two I received the mailing with the incorrect spelling. After correcting my name several times, I thought, forget it. Why should I keep making the same correction over and over? No one cares enough to note the correction. Simple follow up would have helped their cause- by a lot. And now, they are mailing to the wrong address. My mom's address. An address at which I have never resided.

So, no. Taking a break from that one.

My graduate alma mater is also mailing to my mom's address. This one I have even corrected IN PERSON because I was (under) employed there at the time. Still, the appeals for donations (AND my W-2 form) keep going to my mom's address. That's not the only reason I'm not donating to this university, though.

For a variety of reasons, I am not currently employed at the university. And though I have some mixed feelings about not working there currrently, my lack of employment is not the reason I don't donate.

Here's the possibly-petty-but-most-galling for-me reason: I worked my butt off to get my PhD from this university. That's how I got on their lists of people-to-ask-for-money.

They do not refer to me as Dr. LHK. Or LHK, PhD. Not in their requests for money. Not in their cheery alumni updates (when they also make clear they'd be happy to receive money).

Not even- most painfully- when I was listed in the theater programs for the season as adjunct professor (finally! after having worked for years!) WITHOUT the title. All the other PhDs were listed as "Dr. So-and-so." But not me.

Really?

So maybe I'm petty. But it bothers me.

Transitions SUCK

I have been teaching as grad assistant, then as adjunct, at "MY University" for almost 10 years. One of the frustrating aspects of this- beyond the fact that adjunct faculty is not really paid a professional wage- is that I have stayed busy, done lots of teaching- but with one thing and another, scholarly writing hasn't been a priority.  AND the department really didn't give much mentoring/advice/support for getting published.

Well, there have been a number of changes over the past few years. The chair of the department, let’s call him Previous Chair (PC), has stepped down as chair. He was my major mentor. I think he has personal issues going on, but whatever.

Anyway: So, theater department chair is gone, with an interim chair working while search committee does its thing. At the same time, the Dean of the College of Fine, Performing and Communications Arts left for a different position. So did the assistant dean. Interims and searches there, too.

Plus, the economy in Michigan was one of the first to suffer and one of the slowest to recover. While it is true that in a down economy many go back to school, they aren't exactly beating down the doors of the theater department.

Also, I've been told/hinted to/read between the lines that *if* there is hiring, it won't be me. Because I haven't published those scholarly articles. I haven't written big time grants. I haven't brought prestige to the university. I've just done an outstanding job of teaching students.

What is particularly painful is that this semester, I was asked at the last minute (really, about 2 and a half weeks before the start of classes) to teach two great classes (because the tenured faculty that taught them quit- I mean, abruptly retired- in a fit of pique because he couldn't get along with the interim chair). I LOVED teaching these two classes, for upperclassmen, theater majors. And the students RAVED about my classes, how great they were, how much they were learning. Other faculty stopped me in the hall and dropped by my office to tell me how much my students loved my classes.

But none of that matters: word on the street is that when faculty is hired, it will be published people with grants to their credit to enhance the prestige of the university.

Add to that, that the PhD program from which I received my degree has been "suspended" because the PhD *faculty* has not been publishing! (No wonder we received no mentoring!)

What this means for me, is that there are fewer opportunities for adjunct faculty such as myself, because now the tenured senior faculty have to teach the lowly undergrads to retain their jobs.

It is bittersweet. I am trying to stay positive- look at this as a blessing in disguise. My University has been my comfort zone, because it was something that I know. Perhaps this is the impetus I need to write more.

Also, with gas in Michigan hovering at $4 / gal, the 110 mile round trip commute is not missed!

For now, I am still technically employed at My U as I am teaching an online class in Intro to Theater. After June 30, we shall see what the universe has to offer.

irony

So, reflecting back on past posts, we all know I am... ambivalent about marriage.

Irony: I have become ordained in order to officiate at friends' weddings. AND I love it and I think I will be extraordinarily good at it.

Go figure.

I can also officiate at funerals and I am also a spiritual advisor.

You know, I have always regarded myself as an advisor/counselor/friend in times of soul searching.

Now I have the ID that proves it.

torture movie

I had a terrible, terrible dream last night. And I think it was inspired at least in part by the movie Funny Games, which I have not seen, and do not intend to see.


Funny Games is a movie that is about torture and that purports to torture the audience with "the fear and violence that, according to [director Michael Haneke], flow like poison behind the fake facades of bourgeois life."

I saw Naomi Watts interviewed on Jay Leno's Tonight Show about this movie and her role in it. Just the description and the brief clip shown on the show was enough to set my stomach churning and give me nightmares.

A whole stable of them.

Why are there such violent, sadistic movies made? Naomi Watts suggested that it was the director's intent to torture the audience for being an audience of such violence, for having a taste, creating a market for violent, horrific movies.

Really.

It seems like this movie is just more pornography of violence. Perhaps artistic, perhaps well constructed.

But the worst kind of pornography, in my book: that of violence.

I don't go to any of the movies which have violence as their raison d'etre.

And I won't see this one.

Yuck.

But I hope I sleep better tonight.

reply

One of the features of the digital info age is that near instantaneous replies are possible. Literally around the world, someone can ask and be answered almost at once.

Live chat sessions to repair your computer. INSTANT messaging.

One of the drawbacks of this feature, it seems to me, is the change in expectations resulting in less patience.

In a bygone era, if you wrote a letter, a speedy response would be in a week to ten days.

Now, if I post a question or a comment, if I don't hear a response before days end, or AT LEAST within 24 hours, I am puzzled, frustrated, nearly offended.

Was my message not received? Is the receiver ignoring me? WHY haven't I heard back?

What do you think?


HEY! Why haven't you answered??? It's been TWO MINUTES!

drugs

I have a friend who has recently had major surgery. He is slowly recovering, and he is on morphine.

I remember morphine.

When I went in for an appendectomy, I was put on morphine post-surgery. This is a lovely drug. Seriously. I knew there was pain, but I truly didn't care.

Even emotional pain: my parents were newly divorced and each had a significant other with them when they came to visit me at the same time in my hospital room.

I knew I should care, but I didn't.

It is a testament to my dedication to being a nursing (that is to say, breastfeeding) mom at the time, that I got myself off of morphine in just a bit over 24 hours.

My friend has the new pusher device so that he can self-medicate. This is new: not something they trusted me with-- probably a good idea.

It's not perfect, but when you are in a lot of pain, morphine certainly helps. In my opinion, it's a good drug.

I am, myself, the child of the sex, drugs and rock-n-roll era. Even so, I am anti-drug. I don't really want pharmeceuticals in my food. Definitely anti-recreational/illegal drugs. And I have longed, how I have longed, to avoid drugs in my own life.

Even antibiotics.

I think we are all over drugged. I think that's why there are drug-resistant super-germs. I am one of those who believes that we should let our immune system do its thing, that our immune system gets stronger by doing its job.

And yet...

Morphine is a lovely drug. It's no wonder it's controlled.

And I cheerfully use my favorite and most frequent drug, caffeine. (In fact, I am not at all cheeful when I am caffeine free.) I am well aware that alcohol is a legal drug with many dangers, to be used carefully-- and I use alcohol. Often I use them both in the same day. Not too long ago, after a night in which I'd had a couple of great cups of coffee-- at midnight-- and then 2 or 3 glasses of wine, I had a sleepless night. I remarked to my friends:

You know how if someone is drunk, and drinks a bunch of coffee to try to sober up, all you get is a wide-awake drunk?

--my friends conceded they were well aware.

Well, I continued, I've discovered that if you have too much coffee late at night, and try to drink some wine so you can sleep, all you get is a really mellow insomniac.

It's not just my drugs-of-choice caffeine and alcohol. My physician has me on two drugs by prescription. One is for my depression, and I hope to wean myself off of this one in the not too distant future. The other is for my cholesterol. According to my latest bloodwork, this one is working. I may be on it for the rest of my life.

Drugs. Maybe the symbol shouldn't be :

But instead, the symbol should be:

STD

Recently released government research states that one in four teen girls has an STD- a sexually transmitted disease.

This is so disturbing on so many levels.

Why is this study on girls? Where is the study on boys? Is it "easier" to study girls? Are girls somehow to blame?

According to the study, while one in four American teen girls has an STD, within the African-American population, the statistic is still more alarming. Almost fifty percent of teen African-American women have an STD.

The study goes on to blame this rise in STDs on the failure of sex education-- and specifically "abstinence only" sex education.

No surprise there-- just telling kids NOT to do what their bodies are screaming to do is DOOMED to failure from the start.

The study also mentions that many teens do not consider it "sex" if it isn't intercourse. Thus oral sex and other sexual activities "don't count" even though these activities also spread disease.

A Law and Order repeat last night was on some of these "it's not sex" parties with teens. AKKHH! How can these kids believe this is not sex? What a different world.

Chicago

We went to visit our son in Chicago. We had a great time guiding each other through the city.

Our son had a gift certificate to RJ Grunts and took us there for lunch. My husband pointed out to our son the exact spot where my husband first caught site of me.

We stayed in our son's apartment. We did some of the ordinary chores of family life-- cooking, grocery shopping. We accompanied him to his work and watched him in action.

We visited with his girlfriend and with her parents.

We went to a movie. It's been a long time since we went to a movie downtown. We forgot about parking. Somehow, we just barely made it into the movie so the opening scene was just beginning.

Timing is everything.

One side benefit of going to the movie: we all discovered the location of Second City. Good to know.

While my husband and I shared some of our personal history in Chicago, our son introduced us to the features of his Chicago: we toured the Art Institute of Chicago, and our son introduced us to the Bean.

We went out and enjoyed some Chicago blues at the Kingston Mines.

We packed a lot into a few days. We enjoyed it all-- enjoyed most of all spending time with a wonderful young man, our son.

snowed in

Everyone could use a day off.

Today was a very rare day. It snowed most of yesterday and into the night last night. So Ken had a snow day-- his school was closed.

And miracle of miracles, Emily called a snow day for our after-school teaching.

There are a thousand and one things I shoulda-coulda done.

But everyone can use a day off... so I read a book just for fun. All the way through.

When luck turns cold

A. I live in Michigan.

B. It is January.

C. My refrigerator stopped working.

A + B should mean that C should not result, at least, in the spoilage of the entire contents of the refrigerator.

However:

D. Coinciding precisely with the breakdown of my refrigerator is a FREAKISHLY WARM SPELL. It was in the mid-sixties today.

My garage is NOT a walk-in cooler, not in January 2008, even though it HAS functioned as a walk-in cooler every other January that I have lived here.

Such is my luck.

Hell via an 800 number

Hell via an 800 number:

OR the Number of the Beast is NO LONGER 666

A friend told me once, and I've heard it repeatedly since, that it is not a question of IF your computer will break down, it is a question of WHEN.

I have found this to be a truism of the current age.

Remember, I was born at the middle of the past century: I grew up with telephones-- one per household unless you were wealthy-- and television-- and I remember when color TV was new and exciting.


I remember my Grandpa Bill AND my Grandpa Ernie each with their new color tvs-- long before my parents got one. They just couldn't leave the color controls alone-- flesh tones were always a little green or a little red...

But I digress.

The point is, even though I can remember what a big deal a FAX machine was when they first showed up, it's hard for me to remember how to get along without my computer.

Especially without my laptop.



Which is what I had to do, for many weeks.



To really appreciate this story, one must go back almost two years ago. When I first bought this current laptop, I chose this particular brand BECAUSE the laptop I had before this one was the same brand, and lasted for five years. In fact, that laptop only died because I accidently spilled coffee on the keyboard.



Apparently, this is something that is terribly upsetting to laptops.



I have learned that the typical lifespan of a laptop is three years, so my laptop pre-coffee was a veritable Methuselah. AND when I had a problem which needed service with the first laptop in the first year (still under warranty) I received said service promptly and with minimal fuss.



So I bought my second laptop from the same brand.



I didn't buy the extended service warranty. My sons (the techno experts in my life) said that most likely anything that might go wrong would go wrong in the first year, and the extended warranty was another $349.99.



Indeed, something DID go wrong within the first year-- I had a problem that needed solving just two weeks until the warranty expired. So I called. And waited, as one always does, "for the next available service representative."



Finally, a voice (with an accent that told me his given name was most likely NOT Sean, as the voice claimed) responded.



First, he said it wasn't under warranty.



I said, oh yes it was, I am holding the receipt.



He said, we do not show your warranty. You will need to fax it to us.

(Apparently, once one INVENTS the fax, one must use it constantly.)

ARGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

So, we faxed our receipt, called again, waited again, finally spoke to a rep, finally discovered that (duh) the problem was not one easily resolved by plugging in the computer or rebooting it (I'm not THAT much of a techno idiot, I did try that!), we finally sent the laptop in and got it repaired.

However, WHILE I was speaking to the rep and resolving the issue, I caved and bought the %^&*&^%^&* extended warranty.

I said: That's 3 years from TODAY December 2006, right? for $349.99?

He said: Yes, correct.

(Now, mind you, he SAID this: he did not type it. So I should not have been surprised when I received the receipt for the warranty which was dated for 3 years FROM DATE OF PURCHASE OF LAPTOP, in other words about 2 years from date of purchase of warranty/date of conversation with "Sean".)

HOWEVER, I have now purchased warranty which means, PEACE OF MIND, right?

Fast forward to December 2007.

Apparently, it needs to be December, when everyone is busy buying new computers/ software/ problems.

Actually, it starts earlier. October. We are having problems with the laptop. It is fading out to WHITE (not black, WHITE).

Sometimes it will start, sometimes not.

Sometimes it will start in safe mode, sometimes not.

I first try to invoke the sacred warranty myself: I start the livechat with my company, but NO ONE SHOWS UP.

(A few days later I get an e-mail: Dear Lisa Kander,
"Thank you for contacting XXX Company Care.
This e-mail is a follow-up to your recent XxX Chat experience. It has come to our attention that you were not able to complete the process or respond to our message. We would like to take this opportunity to apologize for the inconvenience.
Unfortunately, you were non-responsive. According to our XXX policy, we should not wait until more than 6 minutes. So, I request you to contact us. One good news is that you can contact us at any time. we are available 24/7"
Yeah, well, I WAS THERE AND YOU DIDN'T RESPOND!)

Well, I know I will see my son who is one of my techno gurus (you have to have many techno gurus if you are me with a potent Personal Electro Magnetic Force Field and limited techno knowledge)

So when my son gets there I put him onto the problem and he calls the company who say:

We don't show you as under warranty.

Oh, yes, she is under warranty. I have it right here.

You will need to fax it to us.

WE WILL IF WE NEED TO BUT I AM LOOKING RIGHT AT IT THIS IS THE NUMBER AND WE ARE UNDER WARRANTY.

Finally, they admit that we are under warranty.

My son explains the problem.

The tech on the other end says, Your mom's laptop is getting a little old. Might she consider upgrading to a new laptop.

My son (who has a sense of justice, fairness, and common sense that we have instilled in him) says: SHE SPENT $349.99 SO THAT SHE WOULDN'T HAVE TO BUY A NEW LAPTOP!

Eventually, after asking if the laptop is plugged in, if we have tried rebooting, etc, etc, they finally recommend we back up all data, reinstall all programs and see if that fixes our problem of:

FADES TO WHITE

Well, believe it or not, my son, married and well over 21, does not live at home so he actually leaves to go home and I am left to back up my data.

Which takes me awhile.

Because I am not techno savvy, and because I have a life.

So I finally get everything -- or as much as I can-- backed up, and find an island in time when I can actually call in to the 1-800 number.

I wait for the next available service representative.

Finally, I am connected to a voice (whose accent declares that it is extremely unlikely that her name is Barbara, as she claims).

I describe the problem, I give her all the numbers from my phone, my computer, my warranty.

She says, we don't show you as under warranty.

I say, I am looking right at it. I paid THREE HUNDRED FORTY NINE DOLLARS AND NINETY NINE CENTS and I am UNDER WARRANTY.

She says, we don't show you as under warranty.

Using extreme restraint (because I don't want to have to replace the telephone once I rip it out of the wall) I say, I am going to give the phone to my husband and I know he will want to speak to your supervisor because I paid good money to you people so that I would be under warranty and I gave you all the numbers and I AM HOLDING THE WARRANTY IN MY HANDS.

So my husband takes the phone, and apparently, either because he has a penis (and I have a vagina) or because he is a bass (and I am a soprano) they suddenly discover


I AM under warranty!

So they tell me to reboot (which I have done) and re-seat the RAM, and take out and replace the battery and etc etc and low and behold we still

FADE TO WHITE

and so "Barbara" agrees that we need to send it in.

So, a few days later I get the FEDEX box, and box up ye olde laptop and send her off and keep watching the tracking e-mail...

Well, it's DECEMBER in the WESTERN WORLD and there's this little HOLIDAY that affects shipping and ...

ANYWAY, rather than a week it's two, but ultimately I get back my laptop (on which I am now typing) and it is repaired/healed YET

I still ask:

WHY don't they have a record that I am under ((&Y((^&())T%%%$% warranty??

WHY does the service rep insist that his/her name is Sean/Kelly/Barbara/John/Pam when CLEARLY his/her name is Hussein/Issam/Malika/Yaida...?

WHY can't service be SERVICE?

"Your call is important to us..."

Yeah, right.

But, at least I have my laptop back.

cars

At times, I feel old.

I was born near Detroit, Michigan around the middle of the 20th century. I remember cars that were huge and lumbering and no one cared that they got about 9 miles to the gallon.



Above, an example: a 1971 Pontiac Catalina. Cars were big and sprawling. In those days, my dad bought a brand new car every two years or so. People changed cars like seasonal clothes or high fashion: the latest style, the latest color.

Growing up in Michigan, home to the Big Three automakers, everyone was encouraged to buy cars. Buy them often.

In those days, you could claim your car loan interest payments on your itemized deductions on your taxes.

Even today, there is some sentiment that buying a car supports America. At least, here in Michigan, where I have landed once again.

Only, the Big Three aren't so big anymore.

Once, I even fancied a sports car myself. I rather liked the Jaguar. It sounded exotic; and I even spent some time in one in the late 70s.
Of course, in those days, a gallon of gas was about $0.30. Yes, that's right, about thirty CENTS.

Not like today. Gas prices, and the lines outside of the "cheap" stations, are enough to inspire road rage in a Quaker.

Nowadays, my dream transportation has changed.

I want something reliable. I want something that doesn't cost me an arm and a leg to acquire or to drive (see above).

My dad bought a brand new car every couple of years. I, on the other hand, have bought just ONE brand new car in 35 years of driving. I buy my cars used-- excuse me, "previously owned" and drive them until they won't drive no more.

My real dream car these days is a solar powered super silent super fast hovercraft.

That's affordable.

Is that too much to ask?