One of the drawbacks of being paid way less than I used to be is that there's no possible way I can justify paying someone else to mow my lawn. I've been letting it get a little ragged, and not doing the whole thing all at once, but I'm keeping at least the front pretty presentable.

While I cleared some fallen branches last night before mowing, I discovered a pretty large anthill in the front yard. I'd already noticed several small ones on the driveway.

I asked on Twitter if anyone had suggestions for doing away with the anthills without risking scattering the ants such that they'd end up in my house, and I got a couple of responses each of pouring boiling water into the anthill, and sprinkling some diatomaceous earth over it.

Anyone else care to weigh in with suggestions before I do something?

Every once in a while I discover a fantastic piece of writing from the 14850 Magazine archives, and today a conversation with keeyoo reminded me that cmpriest let us republish her excellent collection of trespassing tips and tricks for urban explorers.

This weekend, my boyfriend and I went on a little jaunt through an old power plant substation (est. circa 1905). After writing about it in my blog, I've gotten a fistful of email wanting to hear a few practical specifics on the art of urban exploration.  So, herewith some accumulated wisdom on the subject.

There is a vast chasm of difference between Trespassing and Breaking & Entering. Remember this. If you have to break a window, bust a lock, or pry a door -- you don't need to be there.  Sometimes places are heavily boarded and sealed for very good reasons; they may not be structurally sound.

( Read more... )

Months ago, I started coming home to find the front door of my mailbox lying on the ground nearly every day. Sure, the hinge was on the loose side, but I never had trouble opening the door without ripping it off, so I figured the letter carrier could manage if he really wanted to. I just kept putting it back on, and more often than not, soon it would be back on the ground. Eventually, I stopped picking it up.

It's been on the ground for at least a good few months, since one of the snowstorms buried it. Today? It's back attached to the mailbox. I went to grab yesterday's mail when I got home a little while ago (I hadn't gotten around to it last night) and the door's just reattached. Did the letter carrier pick it up? Is it a new letter carrier? Did a neighbor do it? Who knows?

Yesterday started on a high note. I've known for a couple of weeks that it was the day the fences were going to start coming down on the bridges over the area gorges, and I took some time to go take pictures. It wasn't until I saw students snapping pictures on their phones that I realized nearly all of Cornell's current students have never known the bridges without the fences.

Work was uneventful, then I helped a friend celebrate the start of her birthday weekend with dinner at Simeon's in downtown Ithaca. She also wanted to see "Star Trek Into Darkness," and I figured there were worse ways to continue the evening.

Today has been pretty quiet. I watched Cornell trounce Ohio State in the NCAA lacrosse quarterfinals, and caught up on a few of the other shows piling up on the TiVo. Tomorrow I might do some laundry. Exciting, I know. :-)

Yes, I liked "Star Trek Into Darkness." More on that soon.

On the way back to Ithaca from a delightful Mother's Day jaunt, I stopped to visit an old friend from camp who lives with his family near Middletown, and so only about 15 minutes off my usual route home. I spent about an hour chatting with him and his wife, and got to meet their three kids, too.

Facebook already had me aware that Andrew has hardly changed in the years since I last saw him. He said beeeej and I are instantly recognizable, too. I'm sure if we dug up pictures from the camp days, it would be more obvious how much we've all aged, but he really does pretty much look just as I remembered him.

We've been "in touch" through Facebook for years, but Mark's sudden death last month was a sharp reminder that we should do more. I think I've convinced Andrew and Lisa that they should visit Ithaca once in a while (Andrew's an IC alum, and I last saw him when we were still college students, I guess) if for no other reason than to hit the wine trail, breweries, and distilleries in the area. Of course, before long they'll be on the college road trip circuit with their oldest.

Perhaps craziest of all is the knowledge that Andrew, who's been an EMT and instructor for FDNY for pretty much his whole professional life, is due to retire in about three years. I can't even conceive of retirement yet. I suppose I'd be happy to not have to work, but there's no way I'm ready for the golf course.

There are so many opinions out there about what's safe for carrying water. Will leaving a plastic water bottle in the car poison my water with dioxins? Will using an aluminum bottle give me Alzheimer's, just like antiperspirants containing aluminum are supposed to? Are "reusable" plastic water bottles safer than the ones you buy by the case already full of water?

I love the tip to freeze a half-full water bottle and then fill the other half on the way out the door so you'll have cold water for hours, but is that dangerous, too, as one oft-spread warning suggests?

Mostly, I refill old water bottles again and again. I love the tiny ones that I typically get at blood drives, since in most cases I can put one in a jacket pocket and always have it with me. (In the summer, I go to cons and concerts with cargo shorts. Water bottle in one side pocket, lens in the other.) Am I slowly killing myself?

After a week with the ankle brace on, I decided to try today without it. I think the faint pains in my feet and right knee are probably related to walking funny for several days, so I'm making more of an effort to walk normally.

I've been walking as normally as possible all along, since I know that makes the ankle heal faster, but I know I've been standing on it less, putting less weight on it, etc. That can't help but make for extra strain on the other leg.

The walk to and from the Ag Quad without the brace today may have been pushing it, but it doesn't hurt too much. Unfortunately, it was also pointless; by the time I got there, the farmers market vendor whose food I wanted had sold out, packed up, and left. :-( At least I got to stop at Martha's on the way back to take a picture of the frozen coffee drinks I've been trying to capture so we could market them.

I definitely haven't talked about it here, and it only came up in passing on Facebook, but I know I mentioned on Twitter that I twisted the hell out of my ankle on Saturday morning on the way out the door to make breakfast at a friend's and watch "Army Wives." I was just casually walking out the front door to the garage and must've set my left foot down "wrong." I felt (if not heard) a pop, and enjoyed the searing pain of my tendons being suddenly in the wrong place.

Conveniently, I was on my way to an EMT's house, and she helped me ice and wrap it. I was hoping it would just feel better after a day or so, but no such luck. Ibuprofen keeps the pain manageable, but it was still unpleasant.

Monday morning, I tried to get the transportation office to give me a permit that would let me park closer to my office than A Lot, which is a six-minute walk in normal conditions, but they (not unreasonably) require a note from a doctor. I sucked it up and figured it would get better in another day or so, and did the painful walk. My boss very thoughtfully offered rides to my car.

Wednesday morning, I decided enough was enough, and in any event, had promised my boss and others I'd get to the doctor. Guthrie didn't have an open appointment until mid-afternoon, so I tried going to Gannett Health Center on campus. I got there right as they opened, and conveniently got one of the parking spaces right outside. Unfortunately, the intake nurse decided (apparently all on her own) that they don't treat staff except for work-related injuries, despite the clear statements to the contrary on their web site, which I'd consulted before going.

I ended up at Guthrie, where I saw a random doctor since George retired in December. He essentially said "Yeah, that looks like it hurts!" and suggested I get an ankle air cast to stabilize it. He feels strongly that it will get better quickly, and gave me a note suggesting a closer parking space just through this week.

I was skeptical, but the ankle brace really does make it much easier and much less painful to walk. I'm willing to believe that I'll be OK walking to and from A Lot by Monday, and if not, I can always go ask for another note.

With that note in hand, though, the transportation office's tune was very different. They gave me a permit that essentially lets me park wherever the hell I want. The lady started running down the list of exceptions, like "Don't park in a space with a sign that says it's reserved for a particular license plate, don't park in front of a fire hydrant or in a fire lane, don't park in the access aisle between two handicap spaces..." and I interrupted to say "So, don't park anywhere stupid?" She laughed. But otherwise, I really can park in any space on campus, including handicap spaces. Pretty slick. Oh, and if I use a metered space, duh, I have to put money in the meter.

I guess Mark was a year younger than me, not a couple of weeks older than me.

The funeral is tomorrow afternoon, a few miles north of my parents' house. I'm vaguely tempted to go, but there are a couple of things I need to be at early tomorrow evening in Ithaca, not even counting Pixel Trivia. (I'd skip that without thinking twice.)

I'd probably be more likely to back out of tomorrow evening's commitments, inconvenient as that would be for others, if I could then spend the night at my parents' place before driving back. Unfortunately, they're away this week. I'm sure I could stay with my cousins if I asked. I'll probably make a decision tonight.

Got a text from Beeeej this morning to let me know that an old friend from camp died this weekend of a heart attack. Thanks to Facebook, I've confirmed my vague memory that we were virtually the same age. He was two weeks older than me.

I haven't stayed as constantly in touch with Mark as with a few other camp friends, but he was a good friend back in the day. I feel bad for his family, whom I've never met. (Not counting his brother and sister, both of whom were also at camp with us.)

Of course, this also inspires me to keep up my efforts to stay reasonably healthy. People our age aren't supposed to have heart attacks, and I'm hoping my efforts to eat fairly healthily, along with my cholesterol meds, will keep me relatively safe from that kind of surprise ending.