It's been a long week. Actually, it's been a long three weeks. This week I've been dealing with a "family emergency". That's how I've been describing it to all those clients and potential clients I've had to reschedule. Last week I was in Boston, attending a three-day conference. Week before that I was in Toronto, ostensibly for work, but mostly looking out for the Yarn Harlot.
So the details. Not that you need them, but I need to write them.
Just about a week ago my Dad was admitted to the hospital with a serious case of pneumonia. He's 72 and diabetic - a man who loves to eat and does not follow his doctor's instructions well at all. It's been a week where I've learned just how broken our U.S. health care system is. (Who can help? McCain, Obama, anyone??)
I spent two days spent working out the details of signing his health care proxy form, designating me as his health care agent. A time during which not one hospital nurse, physicians' assistant, or even orderly would give me the time of day. Apparently HIPAA regulations do not allow daughters to be informed of their parents' health situations. I was fuming. Oddly, the HIPAA restrictions magically disappear when a patient is discharged. Days of no information culminated in reams of paperwork and chaotic instructions for care, upon my Dad's release from the hospital.
This was soon followed by the pharmacy battle, wherein the daughter delivers prescriptions, Medicare refuses to pay, the patient's primary care doctor disagrees with the hospital's instructions, (at 4 PM on Halloween no less) and the daughter is left standing at CVS, confused, befuddled, and then ready to kill.
In the end, most of the prescription issues were resolved, and Dad is settled in his apartment happily eating sugar-free Jello with pineapple while watching Bargain Hunt on BBC America. Daughter is finally home, sipping red wine from a balloon sized glass, finally catching up on blogs and reading about knitting. A long week indeed.
Showing posts with label Just my opinion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Just my opinion. Show all posts
Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Sorry Dude, You're Still a Rookie
Paps is on Letterman tonight, along with David Spade and Penn & Teller.
Manny is on Leno Friday, with the Backstreet Boys.
Big Papi is on Conan Friday, with Jerry Seinfeld.
Dustin was signing autograph's at Modell's in Medford today at 3 PM.
Personally, I think Dustin and Backstreet Boys should have done a switch-a-roo.
Manny is on Leno Friday, with the Backstreet Boys.
Big Papi is on Conan Friday, with Jerry Seinfeld.
Dustin was signing autograph's at Modell's in Medford today at 3 PM.
Personally, I think Dustin and Backstreet Boys should have done a switch-a-roo.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Big Box Blues
My jacket is missing a button. With a vacation trip just a day away, I need a jacket with all its buttons. I hopped in my car and drove to the local Jo-Anne's, which had recently moved from a small shop down the street to a much larger store a few more miles away, in a new shopping plaza next to Lowe's and Circuit City and Bed, Bath and Beyond. I parked and headed through the big automatic doors.
The doors opened and I squinted. The walls, floors, and ceilings went on forever and were all painted stark white. I wished I had sunglasses. I gazed down the long aisles in front of me, trying to find my way to the buttons. One black button with four holes. That was all I needed.
In front of me were Christmas decorations. Bins and bins of green and red, glittery, shiny, sparkly, plastic and nylon junk went on forever. Fake plastic reindeer with blinking red noses, singing Santa's with white fuzzy beards and red plastic boots, bright while angels with fuzzy silver wings and sparkling gold halos, piled up high and hanging from the rafters. Christmas was everywhere.
To my right was the Scrapbooking section. Aisles and aisles of stickers and tape, markers and papers. Silver and gold trinkets and charms, frames, and glue and glitter. Neon pens and pencils. Pink and yellow dinosaur stencils and garden fairy stamps. Plastic crimpers and rollers and scissors, in every color of the rainbow.
In the far right corner of the store, was the yarn. "Okay, this is my world", I thought. I was wrong. Synthetic fluff and fur and glitter and metallics were overflowing from white wire bins. The colors were bright and loud and garish. I was reminded of a big raucous New Year's Eve party, with sparkles and confetti spread on tables, where the band plays too loud and you have to yell to talk to your date. Where was the sock yarn? Where were the solid colors? Where were the tweeds? I longed for the local yarn shop, with wooden shelves full of natural fibers.
Then for a moment, I was excited. Hanging on a pegboard at the furthest end of the section was a display of bamboo needles. Ahhh! I thought, I need a pair of 16 inch circs, #5. Hopeful, I approached the wall of familiar green packages, only to find sizes 10, 10.5, and 13. The perfect size for a fun fur scarf, but not what I needed. The button search resumed.
Finally, after walking past silver frames, black bordered mirrors, holiday scented potpourri candles, bright red and gold silk geraniums, purple polka dot fabric lined baskets, covered bridge puzzles and neon bright play-doh, I spied the buttons. After walking through two aisles of crystals, beads, rhinestones, bells, and assorted novelties of every shape and size, I saw a single rack of black buttons.
I picked up a package of two buttons, held them close against my jacket and compared. The color was right. Black around the edges, with a swirl of black and grey in the center and four little holes. But the size wasn't right, a little too small. I reached for the next largest size. Too big. They looked like dinner plates compared to what I was wearing. Sigh. I reached to put these back, when I realized that between the big and small, there was an empty hook. A million buttons, but the size I needed was sold out.
Determined to have a wearable jacket, I thought I could use the smaller size, if I replaced all the buttons. Only three buttons. That was possible. I contemplated my two choices again, and decided that, yes, the smaller buttons would do the trick. I grabbed two strips from the rack and headed back to the front of the store to the cashier.
Where was the checkout area?? I scanned the horizon and finally spotted the lighted numbers 1 through 7 overhead, that indicated seven registers lined up in a row. I headed off to the right, but then realized that the only route to the counter was a long twisting aisle, surrounded on both sides by candy. A tunnel of candy. There was no exit, except through this never-ending tunnel of candy.
At that moment, my senses overwhelmed and my patience worn thin, I cursed all the executives of the Jo-Anne's corporation. Evil, every last one of them. I imagined the poor tired Mom, who, with little time to spare in her busy day browses the aisles of the local Jo-Anne's with Junior strapped into the carriage. She is hoping to find a simple craft, something to relax her in those few quiet moments at night, after the dishes are washed and the kids are asleep. Maybe a rug-hooking kit or a scrapbook page full of jack o' lanterns to dress up the photos of Junior taken on Halloween. And after pushing that damn cart through every manner of plastic junk and synthetic sparkle, all of which is ultimately destined for a landfill somewhere, she comes upon this evil sugar tunnel. Perfectly positioned within toddler reach. Pure evil. I scowled, paid my $2 for four buttons and headed out through the automatic doors.
As I sat in my little car, and started up the engine, I took a deep breath, placed the four wrong-sized buttons in my purse, and eagerly anticipated the quiet of my little house.
The doors opened and I squinted. The walls, floors, and ceilings went on forever and were all painted stark white. I wished I had sunglasses. I gazed down the long aisles in front of me, trying to find my way to the buttons. One black button with four holes. That was all I needed.
In front of me were Christmas decorations. Bins and bins of green and red, glittery, shiny, sparkly, plastic and nylon junk went on forever. Fake plastic reindeer with blinking red noses, singing Santa's with white fuzzy beards and red plastic boots, bright while angels with fuzzy silver wings and sparkling gold halos, piled up high and hanging from the rafters. Christmas was everywhere.
To my right was the Scrapbooking section. Aisles and aisles of stickers and tape, markers and papers. Silver and gold trinkets and charms, frames, and glue and glitter. Neon pens and pencils. Pink and yellow dinosaur stencils and garden fairy stamps. Plastic crimpers and rollers and scissors, in every color of the rainbow.
In the far right corner of the store, was the yarn. "Okay, this is my world", I thought. I was wrong. Synthetic fluff and fur and glitter and metallics were overflowing from white wire bins. The colors were bright and loud and garish. I was reminded of a big raucous New Year's Eve party, with sparkles and confetti spread on tables, where the band plays too loud and you have to yell to talk to your date. Where was the sock yarn? Where were the solid colors? Where were the tweeds? I longed for the local yarn shop, with wooden shelves full of natural fibers.
Then for a moment, I was excited. Hanging on a pegboard at the furthest end of the section was a display of bamboo needles. Ahhh! I thought, I need a pair of 16 inch circs, #5. Hopeful, I approached the wall of familiar green packages, only to find sizes 10, 10.5, and 13. The perfect size for a fun fur scarf, but not what I needed. The button search resumed.
Finally, after walking past silver frames, black bordered mirrors, holiday scented potpourri candles, bright red and gold silk geraniums, purple polka dot fabric lined baskets, covered bridge puzzles and neon bright play-doh, I spied the buttons. After walking through two aisles of crystals, beads, rhinestones, bells, and assorted novelties of every shape and size, I saw a single rack of black buttons.
I picked up a package of two buttons, held them close against my jacket and compared. The color was right. Black around the edges, with a swirl of black and grey in the center and four little holes. But the size wasn't right, a little too small. I reached for the next largest size. Too big. They looked like dinner plates compared to what I was wearing. Sigh. I reached to put these back, when I realized that between the big and small, there was an empty hook. A million buttons, but the size I needed was sold out.
Determined to have a wearable jacket, I thought I could use the smaller size, if I replaced all the buttons. Only three buttons. That was possible. I contemplated my two choices again, and decided that, yes, the smaller buttons would do the trick. I grabbed two strips from the rack and headed back to the front of the store to the cashier.
Where was the checkout area?? I scanned the horizon and finally spotted the lighted numbers 1 through 7 overhead, that indicated seven registers lined up in a row. I headed off to the right, but then realized that the only route to the counter was a long twisting aisle, surrounded on both sides by candy. A tunnel of candy. There was no exit, except through this never-ending tunnel of candy.
At that moment, my senses overwhelmed and my patience worn thin, I cursed all the executives of the Jo-Anne's corporation. Evil, every last one of them. I imagined the poor tired Mom, who, with little time to spare in her busy day browses the aisles of the local Jo-Anne's with Junior strapped into the carriage. She is hoping to find a simple craft, something to relax her in those few quiet moments at night, after the dishes are washed and the kids are asleep. Maybe a rug-hooking kit or a scrapbook page full of jack o' lanterns to dress up the photos of Junior taken on Halloween. And after pushing that damn cart through every manner of plastic junk and synthetic sparkle, all of which is ultimately destined for a landfill somewhere, she comes upon this evil sugar tunnel. Perfectly positioned within toddler reach. Pure evil. I scowled, paid my $2 for four buttons and headed out through the automatic doors.
As I sat in my little car, and started up the engine, I took a deep breath, placed the four wrong-sized buttons in my purse, and eagerly anticipated the quiet of my little house.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Blogging Book Tours - What Do You Think?
I'm sure you've noticed over the last couple of weeks that many of the stars in the knitblogging universe are writing about their experiences with the new book, Fix Knit by Interweave Press. Author Lisa Kartus has been traveling the virtual world on a blogging book tour to introduce her work.
Being a marketer, I was intrigued by the this novel form of advertising. It wasn't the obvious tile ad on the sidebar. It was stuck right in the heart of the writing. Crazy Aunt Purl and Grumperina gave us Q&A, both in their own distinctive voices and personalities. Wendy of Knit and Tonic told us a story.
I will admit, when I first encountered Lisa's blog tour,I initially felt a bit put-off. It felt contrived, and as a result my guard went up. The day before Wendy's post, she told us that she'd recently gotten the book and learned that you don't count the loops on the needle as a row. I never knew that, and based on that one bit of info, I considered buying the book. The next day, when I realized she was part of the book/blog tour, I felt differently. Maybe she was just trying to sell me the book, now I wasn't so sure. Did the blog tour participants receive a free copy of the book? Would they have purchased the book on their own? Were their recommendations genuine?
For me, it is always a little unsettling when advertising sneaks its way into my world. Obviously, I know it's always there, but its like when you see a big PEPSI billboard in the middle of a great movie - for a moment you are pulled away from the pure enjoyment of the art form to think about who is profiting.
At the same time I was pondering all this, I happened upon BrooklynTweed and admired his post on the EZ seamless hybrid sweater. His photos are gorgeous, his knitting is exquisite. In this post he links directly to the Amazon page for Knitting Without Tears. In a rush of admiration, desire, and realization that this classic book should be in my knitting library, I clicked and purchased. No Q&A, no stories, nothing other than a real photo and a post by a knitter I admire. A marketer's dream, to be sure, but I'm fairly certain that BrooklynTweed is receiving no compensation from either Amazon or the Zimmerman estate.
I read blogs to enjoy the unique personalities of all the writers, to see lovely photos of real knitting, and to learn about real people. And a big draw is the opportunity to learn from other knitters. If I want to shop there are plenty of sites to visit, but if I want to enjoy the company of a world of knitters, and maybe learn a thing or two along the way, I read blogs.
I understand the Knit Fix book tour. The next time I see Lisa Kartus' work at my LYS, I'll pick it up to see if it's really something I could use. Maybe that was Lisa's goal all along, but I'm still not sure how I feel about the approach. Am I being too cynical? Am I giving this too much thought? What do you think?
Being a marketer, I was intrigued by the this novel form of advertising. It wasn't the obvious tile ad on the sidebar. It was stuck right in the heart of the writing. Crazy Aunt Purl and Grumperina gave us Q&A, both in their own distinctive voices and personalities. Wendy of Knit and Tonic told us a story.
I will admit, when I first encountered Lisa's blog tour,I initially felt a bit put-off. It felt contrived, and as a result my guard went up. The day before Wendy's post, she told us that she'd recently gotten the book and learned that you don't count the loops on the needle as a row. I never knew that, and based on that one bit of info, I considered buying the book. The next day, when I realized she was part of the book/blog tour, I felt differently. Maybe she was just trying to sell me the book, now I wasn't so sure. Did the blog tour participants receive a free copy of the book? Would they have purchased the book on their own? Were their recommendations genuine?
For me, it is always a little unsettling when advertising sneaks its way into my world. Obviously, I know it's always there, but its like when you see a big PEPSI billboard in the middle of a great movie - for a moment you are pulled away from the pure enjoyment of the art form to think about who is profiting.
At the same time I was pondering all this, I happened upon BrooklynTweed and admired his post on the EZ seamless hybrid sweater. His photos are gorgeous, his knitting is exquisite. In this post he links directly to the Amazon page for Knitting Without Tears. In a rush of admiration, desire, and realization that this classic book should be in my knitting library, I clicked and purchased. No Q&A, no stories, nothing other than a real photo and a post by a knitter I admire. A marketer's dream, to be sure, but I'm fairly certain that BrooklynTweed is receiving no compensation from either Amazon or the Zimmerman estate.
I read blogs to enjoy the unique personalities of all the writers, to see lovely photos of real knitting, and to learn about real people. And a big draw is the opportunity to learn from other knitters. If I want to shop there are plenty of sites to visit, but if I want to enjoy the company of a world of knitters, and maybe learn a thing or two along the way, I read blogs.
I understand the Knit Fix book tour. The next time I see Lisa Kartus' work at my LYS, I'll pick it up to see if it's really something I could use. Maybe that was Lisa's goal all along, but I'm still not sure how I feel about the approach. Am I being too cynical? Am I giving this too much thought? What do you think?
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