Nom de Plume

Don’t understand CDOs? Here you go …

It’s really time for me to make that last post NOT my last post, wouldn’t you agree? Thank you to everyone who sent me a message or left a comment. I honestly didn’t know I had so many readers! And that everyone is so caring! Thank you. I really am doing fine now. It was hard going for a couple of weeks, but now–more than a month and a half later–the hormones have subsided and I am perfectly okay. Just been busy. So here’s an update:

1. I am out of the shack. Thank heavens. Aside from the obvious (shootings, theft), the shack didn’t really work out that well. I had thought I wanted more of a work/life separation, but in truth, it doesn’t work that way. I tend to work for a while, run a couple of errands, work some more, do chores, and so on. So I bought myself a nice rolltop desk and put it in the rearranged living room.

2. Lot of house stuff. The big bedroom (previously my office) is done. Well, except for trim. Steve put in a bunch of new windows, new drywall, new lights, new closet, new nook. It’s nice. Pics to come. Steve finally bought the leather furniture he’s wanted for so long for the living room. Of course, the kitchen STILL isn’t done, but we are trying to be grateful for what we have.

3. Crushing dryer disappointments. My neighbors hate me because I’ve been mooching dryer time. Ours died a month ago–bad heating element. I thought I could fix it but came to my senses rather quickly. We finally bought one, and it was delivered yesterday. And it didn’t work. So who knows?

4. Cute dogs. I love Harry. He’s such little furry pumpkin.

5. Bellydancing. Have I mentioned this? I started taking bellydancing about six months ago, and I LOOOOOOOOVE it.

I think that’s it. For now.

It’s been a rough week.

Tuesday night, I had really bad cramping, but still not a lot of blood. Wednesday night, I officially miscarried. I had no idea it would be so bad. You read online that a miscarriage usually consists of “cramping worse than your period.” What they don’t say is that you have full-on contractions and that they are probably the worst pain you’ve ever had in your life. So between the hours of 10 p.m. and 5 a.m., I had contractions that increased in severity and duration, with respites that decreased until they were about a minute apart and I passed the gestational sac and god know what else. I thought it was over, but my cramping all yesterday and all through the night have been almost as bad.

The dreams haven’t helped. Perhaps it’s all the murder mysteries that I’ve been reading, but when I finally fell asleep at 5 in the morning yesterday, I dreamed that I killed someone in the Mafia and was being tortured as a payback. I woke up at the point they were about to gouge my eyes out. This morning, I woke in a cold sweat after having dreamed that my wallet was stolen, and my bank accounts drained and I owed several million dollars. Economic crisis anyone?

I didn’t expect this to be so hard. I thought, when it was first certain that a miscarriage was imminent, that it would happen and I would be sad for a couple of days and that it would be over. Intellectually, one knows that this is for the best–an nonviable fetus, the body’s way of making sure that the kid is healthy, blah blah. I wasn’t prepared that the loss of what is essentially a clump of cells at this point would make me feel so grief-stricken. There runs through all our lives a thread of wanting something, of yearning for something more than we have, of being something more than we are. And in some strange, fundamental way, I think that losing a fetus represents a loss of hope.

My doctor had said that I should think about having some sort of ceremony for closure, whether it’s burying the tissue or writing a letter, or doing something that would be meaningful to me. I didn’t scoff, precisely, but I didn’t think I needed it either. I was wrong. Gross as it sounds, I wish I had saved the tissue to bury, but frankly, at 2, 3, and 4 in the morning, bleary with pain and fatigue, it was the last thing on my mind. So I write this now, not as a bid for sympathy, or a woe-is-me post, but as a public declaration of sorrow. We don’t talk about these things except in clinical terms, even though so many of us go through it. It’s a loss of what might have been, and to you, Steve’s and my what-might-have-been, I say goodbye.

is what happens when you’re not knocked up anymore.

Yes, dear reader, I have miscarried. Or rather, I’m still in the process of miscarrying. It seems to be an incredibly drawn out. process for me. I’ve been spotting on and off since Saturday–not much, but enough. My hcg levels are down from 8500 to 100 and something, and my progesterone from 8.2 to 5 based on blood drawn yesterday. This morning, I woke up and just knew–I’ve lost that bloated, pregnant feeling. Actually, I pretty much knew yesterday, but didn’t really want to admit it.

It’s hard. On the one hand, there’s really nothing you can do about it–and if the fetus isn’t viable, it’s not viable. On the other, I was getting excited. It was finally starting to seem real. And perhaps this sounds silly, but what upsets me more than anything right now (in my admittedly still hormonal stage) is that I have the incredible fatigue of the past month and a half ahead of me. Well, that and the fact that in a strange way I feel lonely–not in the sense of lacking support or people around me, but that there was this other life in me and now it’s gone. It’s just me, and after the past two months, just me feels weird.

Still, we’ll go for it again. One out of three pregnancies ends this way according to my doctor–who, by the way, is a complete love and went well out of her way this morning to make sure that I was doing okay emotionally and to reassure me that there’s no reason to think that another pregnancy won’t be completely normal.

So there we are.

Does this woman have any clue what she’s talking about?

But this is AWESOME.

None of this has seemed quite real to Steve because I didn’t have the doctor’s word that I’m pregnant–but I went in last Thursday, and it’s now official. I am about 8 weeks, not 10; the online calculators count from the date of your last period rather than the date of conception. The only worrying thing is that my progesterone levels are low. Progesterone is the hormone that makes you “stay” pregnant, and normal levels for the first trimester range widely from 9 to 45, with many saying that 10 is the minimum level you should have at this stage. I’m at 7.8. We all know that I worry, and as low progesterone levels can result in miscarriage (or signal an ectopic pregnancy), I’m fretting. Google searches don’t help either. I am to pick up a prescription for progesterone pills today from the pharmacy.

Dear Friends:

We may have thought we wanted a woman on a national political ticket, but the joke has really been on us, hasn’t it? Are you as sick in your stomach as I am at the thought of Sarah Palin as Vice President of the United States?

Since Palin gave her speech accepting the Republican nomination for the Vice Presidency, Barack Obama’s campaign has raised over $10 million dollars. Some of you may already be supporting the Obama campaign financially; others of you may still be a little honked off over the primaries. None of you, however, can be happy with Palin’s selection, especially on her positions on women’s issues. So, if you feel you can’t support the Obama campaign financially, may I suggest the following fiendishly brilliant alternative?

Make a donation to Planned Parenthood. In Sarah Palin’s name. And here’s the good part: when you make a donation to PP in her name, they’ll send her a card telling her that the donation has been made in her honor. Here’s the link to the Planned Parenthood website:

http://www.plannedparenthood.org/

You’ll need to fill in the address to let PP know where to send the “in Sarah Palin’s honor” card. I suggest you use the address for the McCain campaign headquarters, which is:

McCain for President
1235 S. Clark Street
1st Floor
Arlington, VA 22202

Feel free to send this along to all your women friends and urge them to do the same.

Relaxing social strictures and therapy are doing wonders for us as a society–but I sometimes wonder if they’re ruining the contemporary novel. I mean, what is there to fight about these days? What provides the tension? Nothing. Instead, the focus turns inward; the protagonist fights against himself (or discovers something, or whatever). And if it’s not really well done, then all the reader (well, this reader anyway) can think is, “God, this person needs a shrink.”

Which is what was running through my head as I read the soap opera-like Free Food for Millionaires, the story of Korean-American Casey (along with her friends), who graduates from Princeton, fights with her family, goes 24k in debt on mainly clothes, takes a secretarial job because she only applied to one investment banking house, goes back to school, takes out massive student loans to go back to business school, gets an internship, works her ass off, and then ends the novel giving up on business school because she “just can’t.” I guess it was supposed to be that hopeful note at the end of the novel speaking of personal redemption through self-discovery. But I found it tragic because it just all seemed so stupid.

And this is the thing. I am down with the tragic heroine. Madame Bovary? I’d have an aperitif with her any day. Lily Bart? She is my PEEP, man. But while Madame B and Lily B do stupid things, we still understand, our hearts rip apart as we read, hoping that this time–finally–things will turn out better. With Casey? I just want to shake her. So is it 1. the writing (I confess, this was a riveting read with Casey and all her friends)?; 2. the fact that I never really LIKE Casey; or 3. that we have completely different expectations from the modern novel? I suspect there’s a little of 2 in there, but perhaps a whole lot of 3. And maybe it’s why I’ve really been into mysteries lately. (Just worked my way through all of Donna Leon and Martha Grimes.)

Particularly one who is ready to use her pregnant teenage daughter as a puck? As a feminist, Sarah Palin’s nomination is an insult.

Oh my gosh, it’s fast. Much faster than IE7. Don’t know about IE8, haven’t downloaded it yet.

Where has this stuff been? I’m not a milk drinker, but oh my god, I can’t get enough of it.

“So,” my mother said with a goofy grin on her face when she learned I was pregnant, “are you and Steve finally going to get married?”

“Probably not,” I said, blithely dashing her hopes to the ground. “There’s really no point.”

She was silent for a moment and then started trotting out various arguments about why we should, most notably that it’s a social contract that people recognize and it’s a good thing to make one’s relationship in the eyes of the world.

I’m not convinced. I mean, growing up as I did with divorced parents and friends with divorced parents, the institution doesn’t really mean all that much. What’s the divorce rate these days? I think that the fact that S and I have been together for seven years means more than a piece of paper.
The fact that we decided to procreatesays a heck of lot more than a trip to City Hall. And when push comes to shove, I don’t think the world gives a darn whether we’re married or not either.

But of course, we’ve talked about it. Should we? Shouldn’t we? Steve says he doesn’t care one way or the other. “Whatever you think best,” he says.

As far as I can tell, there’s not much reason to do it. I have my own health insurance policy. If Steve’s name is on the birth certificate, he’s legally recognized as the father. It doesn’t make one whit of difference tax-wise. There is inheritence and medical next-of-kin stuff, but that can be sorted out easily with wills and powers of attorney. Really, it seems like most of the benefits that marriage confers are the legal protections conferred when one ceases to be married. Which just makes it all seem like a farce.

The other night when I was walking the dog, I listened to a podcast about how the rates of children being born out of wedlock (and if you wonder why I object to marriage, just look at that word) are growing and it’s a problem. Do a google search and you’ll find the same thing. But these are all women with little education, few skills, and virtually no means of economic independence. What about people like us–middle-class equal earners who have just decided not to get shackled? There’s virtually no information about couples like us out there–or at least information I can find. Anyone? Know anything? Just to satisfy my curiosity ….

It’s early days yet–I’m only about 8 weeks pregnant, but I’m not very good about not telling anyone, so why not just tell the world? (Helloooo …..) I never thought I wanted kids, but back in April had a chemical pregnancy–and then we decided why not? From then to now, I’ve been ambivalent about it, but now that it’s real, I’m happy about it. Steve, in his quiet, undemonstrative way, is over the moon. (To wit: I called him at work to tell him; that night he walked in the door and when Harry ran up to him, cackled, “Mommy’s getting a doggy replacement, Harry–you’re out on your own now!”)

It’s funny because I can’t say that my biological clock ever started really ticking. Steve and I have talked about having a kid, and the best reason we could come up with for having one was that we might regret not having one. Which didn’t seem like a very good reason. Then all of a sudden, it seemed like as good a reason as any. And the fact is, I’ll be 35 this year so it’s not like there’s this huge amount of time left. (Well, I guess you could argue that if you wanted.)

So here we are.

It used to be that you closed the cover on an issue of the New Yorker and felt like you just got a mini liberal arts education. There was some science, some sociology, some law, some literature–all dosed with a goodly amount of philosophy and analysis in long, thoughtful, well-written articles.

I stopped taking it a few years ago because I was bored, bored, bored; I hated the themed issues (especially the advertisement-stuffed fashion one), I was tired of the fact that all their articles were about Iraq; and their articles had somehow lost their sprightly analysis. I didn’t miss it. But in the past year, I got one of those 1 year for $25 deals, and so resubscribed.

What a disappointment.

Is it just me? Am I imagining this? Because I want to like the articles I find–I really do. But really, they just put me to sleep. They’re boring. If the topics aren’t boring (which most of the time they are), the way it’s put together is boring. Any real analysis is missing. And the writing-oh my god, the writing. It’s almost as though someone has written a “Write like a New Yorker essayist from days of yore” software program and everything gets churned through it. Except that the long, dense reporting that used to illuminate has turned into run-on sentences one has to read mutiple times to understand.

So I’m curious–is it just me? Because when push comes to shove, I think the New Yorker hasn’t just gotten worse, it’s gotten downright bad.

I need to renew my subscription to the Atlantic.

Blog? What blog? Yes, I’m still alive. Just lazy. But I liked this meme, lifted from A Was Alarmed.

1. My uncle once: marketed an artifical sweetener called called “Sweet and Lite” in India. It came in a pink package and was noxious.
2. Never in my life: have I distilled alcohol. I have, however, distilled three batches of hydrosols in my brand new copper alembic still: peppermint, rosemary, and lavender. Next up: cistus. Of which we have a ton, and which is supposed to be great for wrinkles.
3. When I was five: I rebelled against my mother’s gender-neutral toys (read Mac trucks) and insisted on a Barbie doll.
4. High School was: horrid. That’s okay. I can honestly say that I’ve never met an interesting person who actually liked high school. (Anyone?)
5. I will never forget:There are lots of things I’ll never forget, most of them humiliating.
6. I once met: a woman in Safeway with “Bud’s Bitch” tattooed on her chest. I was riveted.
7. There’s this girl I know who: Hmm. Do I even know any girls?
8. Once, at a bar: and when I was very drunk, I actually won a game of pool.
9. By noon, I’m usually: finally getting around to eating breakfast and wired from way too much coffee, which I’ve been swilling since 7 or 8.
10. Last night: I worked for a couple of hours and then put on Arabic music and practised my shimmy. Because I’ve been taking bellydance classes for a few months now and I am HOOKED.
10. If I only had: put a stop to the insane single man demolition team a couple of years ago, I would not be living in this construction zone we call a house.
12. Next time I go to church: it’ll probably be a funeral.
13. What worries me most: Are you kidding me?? I’m always worried about something with my hypochondriacal tendencies.
14. When I turn my head left, I see: Willie, whom I am dogsitting, sitting with Harry in the next yard over, gazing at me mournfully. I was going to walk them, but it started raining.
15. When I turn my head right, I see: A lot of dog hair on the floor.
16. You know I’m lying when: I have my safety glasses and gloves on (sorry, soapmaker’s joke)
17. What I miss most about the eighties: having a crush on John Taylor of Duran Duran and not being laughed at.
18. If I were a character in Shakespeare, I’d be: Doubtless one of the witches hunched over a simmering cauldron of potion.
19. By this time next year: We might have an anklebiter. No, nothing burbling away in there yet, but we decided to let whatever happens happen. THERE’S an updating bomb after lo these many moons, huh?
20. A better name for me would be: Zoe Marshenberger, which is the name of my alter ego I put in any web registration forms I have to fill out for whatever reason. Same initials, same unpronounciability.
21. I have a hard time understanding: any type of math that’s not a tip.
22. If I ever go back to school, I’ll: shamelessly copy Helen and appreciate the experience more.
23. I return your calls.
24. If I ever won an award, the first person I’d thank would be: my mom and Steve.
25. Take my advice, never: take my advice.
26. My ideal breakfast is: A very cheesy omelet.
27. A song I love, but do not have is: You know, it’s funny, but I haven’t listened to much music for the past few years. Now I am again, but it’s all bellydance music. Steve walks in the door now and groans, “Oh God, not THAT again … ” Usually I swish out in my hip scarf and he shuts up.
28: If you visit my hometown, I suggest: UNFAIR. I don’t really have a hometown.
29. Why won’t people: Use their flipping turn signals?
31. If you spend the night at my house: you will need a strong constitution and the ability to withstand sleeping in a room with no walls. (Still.) Alternatively, you can sleep in the shack.
31. I’d stop my wedding for: Another unfair question because it assumes that a wedding is important … not to get all philisophically smarmy or anything, but I’m not sure I believe in the institution. I say civil unions for everyone.
32. The world could do without: er, I dont know …
33. I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: eat any of the kimchee Steve has four jars of in the fridge.
34. My favorite blonde is: Harry. Well, he’s kind of blond.
35. Paper clips are more useful than: not much.
36. If I do anything well, it’s: being snotty.
37. And by the way: I have so much stuff I need to get done before we head back to Steve’s family reunion on Thursday.

Not nearly as heartwrenching as Henry Hoover’s but interesting because it conjures up an era. I have NO idea who this is.

Addressed to:
Mrs. Sarah Hunt
Springfield
Clark County
State of Ohio
Cincinatti August 17th 1829
My Dear Sister
I am just getting so that I can enjoy a little comfort in breathing & move about, yet I am in some pain all the time_I hope it will not be long ere I am well though I fear I may never be entirely free from the effects of my fall_last wednesday I came to the Silvers’ house for fifty cents they owed me and as I stepd out the door, I was in haste & gave a smart [can’t read] on the step_it turned and threw me with violence on the edge_ I fell with my side against it—just above my hip—my ribs are very sore, hou the Doctors Slayback and Woodward, both agree they are not broken. Mr, James Loder (?) helpd me into the house and others sent for help and the above Drs both came they dare not bleed me—my pulse was so low—but gave me a dose of laudanum, ordering camphor & c (?)after U had taken about three times of laudanum I was more easy & the bathe I had applyd relieved me that on Saturday I could stand on my feet—sabbath I was in [can’t read]—today I am better, tho now I must be ery careful how I turn—or [can’t read]—It has unnerved and debilitated me like a severe spell of sickness! I was nursing Mrs [something] & only came out for an hour to two to meet such a disappointment with suffering required all my fortitude.
I cannot tell you when I wrote to you last or what I told you for fear you had not receivd I will tell you I had a letter from Mother write the 12th of May—said in both friends were well—Daniel was in Millville on business but has married in McKean [?] a wife had a son called Julius Hermon-was Justice of the Peace two years past in that County. Edwin was married they had learnd and lives in Philadelphia but none of my family has seen him since—Mother wrote me very tenderly of you and yours spoke of her children’s children with love and desiring to see them—Jerem.I. [?] has very delicate health his son is in Millville at school—E.B. has relinquished his business there & settling up accounts he states—his mind unsettled as to where, or what he next shall enter into—I have answered their respective letters and shall look for another communication from them soon – Mr. Bateman has been gone to Jersey about five weeks when he returns I shall expect he has seen our beloved Mother & can tell me of her as he said he would call and see her himself—Moses Burt and wife I saw at Ogdens a little while since they have moved to this state Mrs B is very portly that I should have scarcely known her—I want to hear from you very much and Lydia Ann I hope you are all well—oh do not neglect writing an account of my situation—I hope I have no [something] as sure of your to Greave me for it—rest assured I shall esteem it one of the Greatest comforts [something]regards this [world? Word?] to receive from your hand written communications and too often they can never be–! to be wellcome to my heart! I still have much cause for Gratitude and Love to God for His mercy and Grace to me—a convincing proof I have had at this time of His Heavenly care and Kind protection! in providing friends and preserving power! had I fell with the small of my back instead my side—I think I never should breathed now I have been sadly hurt, as it was my vitals that received so heavy a shock—my Liver Dr Woodward said was so Jarred that it would be sometimes before I should Get entirely over my fall! The kind attention and care of my friends has been all to me that could be done—I have not seen any of Ogden’s family –as I was so far them. Isaac Frame (?) next morning so yesterday to see me I am at Mr Loders—hall to go the Mr Kreamers soon as I can, they sent for me every day to enquire, or request me to come there—I have not seen Eveline for three weeks—she does not know where I am I expect so she could come to see me soon as able I shall see her—there is a Great commotion about the Blacks in this place at present. We none of us know where it will end—I must say to you my love to all—don’t forget Mrs Fishers—both. (list of names) Yours your Amy Foster

I went to visit my mother about a month ago. She handed over a whole pile of old letters she had found–dating from about 1825 to 1870–which I am slowly transcribing. Alas, some are just tiny scraps of papers, but there are some real gems in there. This is really exciting for me, because it’s from the Hoovers in Hennepin, IL (my grandmother’s mother’s family) and I had hit dead genealogical ends with both Henry Hoover (my great-great-great grandfather) and his wife Sally.

Henry Hoover apparently went out to California to make his fortune. There are three letters from him back to his family. I have transcribed them exactly as they appear–spelling, capitalizations, and all–but I have added punctuation, which he omitted entirely. I did this so the letters are easier to read.

The first letter:

Addressed to:
Sally Hoover
Hennepin
Putnam Co. Ill

St Joseph April 12 1840

Dear wife I take this opportunity to let you know I am well and I hope you are the same. We have had worry cold and wet for the last ten days. We got here the 11. I have been down in town all the time since looking for Sam but I don’t find him. I saw Joseph Stephens to day. He says he saw Bart in Iowa all well and now is Sam a going to come with how or note. How’s team will be in to morrow, we will load up and [something] the river and wait about a week before we start. I have wrote three times to your before this. I have been Develing [ the Post master all the time I have been here for a letter but don’t find any. Brook is well and high treaded. Otterson was well last Friday we parted company they have not got in yet. I have no news to write it is tolerable healthy in St Joseph. There has been some cholera here but not so bad as we heard. My health so far has been better than common and I am going to keep in so it is rather lonesome here. There is about one thousand [something] for California but still I lack one thing [something] from home. Now wife and children are you all well and doing well. What I don’t write you must think for I cannot think of everything to write so I will wait and see if I don’t see Sara or get a letter before I leave fore the plains. I will let you know if sam comes and what we are a going to Do so I will stop for the present
H. Hoover to S.W. Hoover

April 13
Well Sally here we are in St Joseph but no sam yet. We have got all ready for starting over the river but we won’t start over the plains for ten Days yet so I will wait for a letter. This is a solemn Day with us here for we have buried Leny Zerek [?] this afternoon. He died on the Boat Elpasso yesterday about forty miles below here. He died with the inflammation on the bowels. James Simson and Louis Purley was with him but Lou has not come yet. We are looking for him and sam with him. We are all well so far and in good spirits. Tomorrow we cross the river and camp for a spell. Now Sally you must keep your courage and take good care of the blesed little children for I will be back. I need not tell you what to do but do the best you can. Take good care of your self and stay til I come back their. I will tell you more than I dare write now. Sally you must write about the first of June and July and August and direct it to Sacramento City uper California. Now Melissa, how are you, I hope you are well and a good girl, then I will bring you something nice I will yes. Well George John Miles Martin David Julius all be good boys and help your mother and be good to her then I will bring you something fine. Now mind well. Bart has not come yet. I have Nothing to write now but if I get a letter before we start I will write again before we leave. I saw Mr. Donald he got here to day. He says he saw you and he lost the letter you sent. Give my respects to all and every body so fare you well Sally Dear.
Henry Hoover

Jane I will say a word to you. I am well and full of fun and I hope you are. I have not seen Bart yet but am looking for him to night and then I will tell you how he likes Calafornia. I would like to know how you get a long with selling wood. Jane be a good girl and help sally this summer and keep good courage and then I want you to write to me about the first of June. Direct it to Sacramento City uper California. Jane if you go east give my love to Abiah and Merry and all that will enquire for poor me. Dont forget to write for it will be lonesome so far you well at present. Now dont forget.
Henry Hoover to Jane Dellen? Deln?

Here–after a period of eleven years–is the second letter:

Dear Sally and more,
I will try to write a few lines to let you know that I am alive and enjoying first rate health but I feel very uneasy about home for I have not heard from you since Mrs Lyn brought me letter tara[?] at work. At present on the south fork of the American reiver. I have bought a claim and paid five hundred Dollars for it and the river has raised so we cannot work it this fall so I will have to give it up this season. I was in hopes I could come home this fall but things has taken such a turn. I shal have to try the mining one more year all though it is a hard life to live but Don’t you be discouraged for I think I shall soon be home with plenty of Gold to cheer up. Dear Sally I want to hear if you got that money I sent to you by P Durly for I have not heard from you or those since the 13th of March last saw[?]. I wish you would write to me for I fear you are not happy but Sally don’t worry your self about me for I will try to do well and I think I can but I do get home-sick some times. You must take good care of your dear self and the children all. Bless them. As for the B Allen and the rest of the Hennepin boys I have not heard from them since last fall. I suppose some of them has gone home. I wish you would write and let me know who has got home and what luck they have had +[?] the two Mr Barbers in particular as they was of B Nervels Company. I understand they started home last winter with but very little money & I should like to hear how they have made it with Mr Nervel as they did not stay their time out.

Dear Daughters Charlotte I must write a few lines to you and I thank you for the few lines you wrote to me. You said you had kept your promise. Well I want you to keep it one year longer and take care of your dear ma and the little boys and I will be back and you shall be rewarded for all your trouble. Be a good girl and write to me often for I want to hear from you for Jane Larsen [?]
No more at Present from your old Dear Henry Hoover

Now Sally Dear I want to know how you get along with our large family of boys and if you want more money I have about enough to take me home but I want to try the mines one more winter and see if I can make my pile. I think I can. You must not mind the bad storys you hear from Califronia all though they do hang a great many men here but I have got along so far verry well with out difficulty. Well Sally next Sunday I am a going to start to the north run mines in ??? with five men and expect to remain there until some time in the spring and then if I can sell my claim here I will come home if I have money to beare my expense and well little Boys George John Daniel James David and little Julius you must all be good boys and be kind to your Dear mother and help her and I wil soon be back with you and there we will take comfort to pay for all this hardship. Dear wife and Children take good care of our selves and [can’t read] you take comfort while I am nicking about in the mountains.
No More at Present But I Still Remain Your Henry Hoover to Sally W hoover and Childern

And this is the the third letter. I confess that I got tired of transcribing all the “take care of your mothers” so I omitted them. Also, I couldn’t read the date. However, this is my very favorite letter:

Vichel?? April 14, 51?? 57??

To Sally W Hoover and the Boys
I have jest received a letter from you stating that you have Moved. Well I am glad to hear it for I have thought of you a great many times. I rote you a letter the day before I got yours and directed it Bureau Junction but I can tell you what is in. It it’s filled up with my hard luck. James has sold that 40 acres that I bought for him last fall so that taks 125 dollars. I have 250 dollars in debs a comming to me that I expect to loose and we have had to by a span of horses this spring. It will leave me behind a bout 400 I dar not no how I will git a long I did think that I [something] you soon this spring. But do not depend on me and if it is possible I will due something our girl Hannah has left us and Mother and the 2 Hellents has to do the work. Mother’s Helth is very good this spring and we are all able to eat our Pankake. Mother want to [something] Charlott is a going on the Ca nall?? this summer all well is your friends you must exersizing short letters for I want to rite a line to Bart. I want to congratulate him because he has got a BABY and the first that I git to a tavern I will take a snort of jingjaw on his expense and when I se any of Larris friends I will tell them that she has got twins.

Yesterday, I ran up to the house for 20 minutes. Came back, door had been broken into and laptops stolen.

Yes, these are adventures in shackitude.

I am deleting my Facebook account.

There’s been a lot lot of noise about privacy and what have you on the Web, and I really don’t feel the need to add anything to what anyone else says. They’re a company; they sell information–and that’s life in the 21st century. The myth of privacy at this point is just that: a myth. To be really honest, I don’t know how much that bothers me. What does bother me, however, is that I’ve noticed a huge surge in spam since I signed up for the service. Stupid me for not using a junk e-mail address. Now I’m not saying that they are the reason my e-mail address has been released into the hands of spammers–but I have noticed that in their Privacy Policy , they do not, at any point, ever, nowhere, nohow state, “We do not sell your e-mail addresses.” What they say is:

Facebook is about sharing information with others — friends and people in your networks — while providing you with privacy settings that restrict other users from accessing your information. We allow you to choose the information you provide to friends and networks through Facebook. Our network architecture and your privacy settings allow you to make informed choices about who has access to your information. We do not provide contact information to third party marketers without your permission.

What that says to me is that you have to jump through hoops to make sure your e-mail address isn’t sold. And I’m pretty sure I set my privacy settings at a high enough level–though it was long enough ago that I don’t remember.

And here’s the thing: I don’t like Facebook enough to deal with it. As I mentioned a few posts ago, I have, like, zero interest in being a werewolf or a vampire, I don’t want to fly some fighter jet, and I think writing on someone’s wall is a complete and utter waste of time. And trust me when I say that I’m really good at wasting time without someone else’s help.

it may seem like I’m a naysayer, but that’s not it at all. I love technology as much as the next person. Here I am, after all, blogging. I write about technology (granted for pay). And maybe that’s the point: I’m freelance, which means that I spend the majority of my workdays sitting alone in the shack in front of a computer. 90 percent of my communication during the average day is by e-mail. I work with people I’ve never talked to on the phone, much less met in person. I don’t complain–indeed, it’s a-okay with me. But free time? Well, I don’t want to write on someone’s wall.

Facebook puzzles me because it doesn’t have a clear purpose. I mean, linkedin connects business people; youtube lets you post videos; flickr is for photos. Facebook rolls a whole bunch of functions into one uber site, and while yeah, it’s the natural progression technologically-speaking, I think in some ways social networking has become a concrete example of the way technology has fractured interpersonal relationships. It’s bad enough when I tell Steve to e-mail me his racing schedule when he lives in the same house. It’s worse when the only time I hear from people that I’d like to hear from is when they invite me to plant a peapatch. Or whatever. The point is that yes, I’m now in contact with friends I haven’t heard from in a long time–but when it comes down to it, I’m not really in touch at all. Instead, I’m still sitting in front of my computer without any real connection to who they are as people.

I got cocky.

For a couple of months, it’s seemed like the area over my eyebrows is a little lighter again, and I have studiously been avoiding it–but dreading getting tan in the summer all the same. Now it looks like it may be getting worse, and to make matters even more distressing, there’s some hyperpigmentation above the lighter areas. It doesn’t look all that bad to anyone but me. With my hyphochondriac tendencies, however, I am stressed over it.

It’s also interesting because I’ve been very stressed and overworked for the past couple of months, and it seems like some of the spots (under my left arm, one spot in an unmentionable space) that were closing in have expanded again. Again, it’s not that big a deal, but I do wonder about the role of stress. I also have not been consistent with taking my supplements every day; I probably average about 3 or 4 times a week. So I need to be better about that.

I hate this thing. I keep telling myself that what I have is minor–and it’s true–but I still feel as though my body has betrayed me. I have always been a little bit of a hypochondriac, but I find that I’m really stressing out over pretty much anything that seems out of the ordinary. I wonder how much of the vit anxiety I’ve transferred to other things, and I need to redirect all this energy that I spend on fretting to something more productive. I just don’t know how.