Logical Deduction

It's possible to deduce conclusions by observing facts. For example, you can tell which of my neighbors tipped the garbage men for Christmas and which did not.

After the holidays I noticed something: at some homes (like ours) garbage men empty our cans and carefully return them to the driveway with lids neatly on top. At other homes cans are tossed pell-mell down the street with lids strewn in every direction.

Garbage men may not be educated but they're not dumb. And they know how to communicate.

My Pet Rock

I just commented on a friend's post (about the recent craze for Stanley cups) and thought you  might enjoy hearing a piece of my past. You are probably too young to remember this. Here's what I wrote:

In the history of commercial idiocy I plead guilty to spending real money ($4, back when they meant something) to buy a "Pet Rock" in 1975. It was an ordinary rock, like one you'd find on the ground, packaged in a cardboard box with air holes in it for "ventilation." What made the purchase sensible was an included brochure on "How To Care For Your Pet Rock," a funny piece of satire. In my defense I was a high school senior with an eccentric outlook on life. 

The guy who sold pet rocks became a millionaire from the idea.

More info: link and a second link 

Janus/January

Did you know that January is named for the Roman god Janus? 

Two thousand years ago Julius Caesar established the modern calendar and chose the first month of the year to be "the Month of Janus." The reason for this is because Janus, always depicted with two faces, represents transition: the end of an old year and beginning of a new one. Janus's two faces display his ability to view both the past and the future.

The last motorcycle I bought was named Janus. It was custom-built by a small company in Indiana. When my eyes went bad I gave away my two BMW motorcycles but clung to my first and last bikes (Kawasaki Vulcan and Janus Halcyon). I retained these motorcycles for sentimental reasons and hope to display them in a future private museum

You'll note from the picture below that the gas-cap on the motorcycle shows the two faces of Janus. Happy January!

Happy New Year!

Congratulations everyone on reaching a new opportunity for improving life. I hope and predict 2025 will be a banner year for all of us.

I have "brat" dreams for the new year. (If you don't know what brat means, click on it.)

It's valuable to have dreams: they can be targets to aim at. Perhaps we achieve them, perhaps not but their existence helps us orient effort.

Currently I have three dreams in my heart. The extent to which I realize them will depend on several external factors like generosity from the Crypto Gods. The more resources I receive, the stronger my ability to build these environments.

My close friends (like you!) know of my oldest, most precious dream: to create a safe, private space for living authentically. A "home" where I can wear dresses and bright red polish on my fingernails. A space where I can engage in various feminine activities like chatting with girlfriends over hot tea and watching rom-coms. Privacy shields us from ignorant hate (triggered by my mere existence). In public I can, for example, be attacked or even jailed for using the "wrong" bathroom. Life for transgender folk has gotten dramatically worse during the past decade.

A second dream is to build a private art museum. A place to display my growing collection of fine art. I've got the beginning of that assembly: numerous objects of world-class art. I hope to spend over $1 Million rounding out the collection. In addition to the art collection I want to display a group of objects having deep sentimental and personal meaning to me, like the first and last motorcycles I owned. And results of projects I completed, like a handmade 1950s-style cocktail dress designed collaboratively by my seamstress friend Aimee and me. It fits me like a glove, shimmers and excites me in all the right ways. I keep it on a dress-form stand and want to exhibit it like art.

My final dream is odd: a personal drag-race track. My visual impairments prevent me from driving or riding a motorcycle on the street or a racetrack because I can only see forward with narrow view. (My vision is like looking through a dirty submarine periscope.) I realized, however, that I can still operate a race-car or motorcycle in a straight line if there were no intersections or risks coming from outside my view. A drag-race strip! On one I could twist the throttle and let 'er rip. Get my motorcycle up to 140 mph. There are also non-street-legal race-cars that appeal to me which I could hurl down the strip with much enthusiasm. Right next to the track I'll build a large garage both for storing vehicles and hosting parties. Decorated with moto-sports memorabilia the space will house a kitchen, open bar, couches and items for entertaining. Come watch the races at Ally's Garage!

What dreams do you have for 2025 and beyond?

Oh, Crap

Hi everyone. I hope you enjoyed Christmas and are relaxing during this holiday season.

If you have a moment I have some questions for you. I faced a situation last night that never occurred to me before. It flummoxed me and I'm still confused.

I attended a holiday dinner with friends, all of whom are nice people and all of whom are intimately aware of my health struggles. I see these same friends every Christmas. We ate a lovely meal. Afterward instead of chatting someone suggested we play a game. We'd never done that before. Of the 15 people present about 10 expressed eagerness to try a game. I was among them.

We moved to the living room and sat on couches eight feet apart. The game's suggester described how the game works. Every player gets a little plastic card (about 1 inch tall) on which they write a word. Players then show their cards to other players and talk about the words. One rotating player doesn't get to look at the cards and tries to guess what others wrote. The details of aren't important.

I tried to play the game but it became immediately obvious I couldn't due to my visual impairment. My eyesight isn't good enough to read small words displayed eight feet away. After five minutes of frustration I gave up, withdrew from the game and sunk back into the couch. I listened to everyone else talk excitedly, laugh and continue play without me. 

I didn't sulk because that's not my nature but I did feel sour. I felt like my friends abandoned me.

I'm sure nobody wanted to exclude me but the requirements of the game had that effect. When I stopped playing I explained the reason for withdrawing (inadequate vision) but nobody paid attention; they were too excited to continue their fun. 

Afterward I felt trapped: I couldn't find any way to discuss my exclusion without making the situation worse. No matter how I might try to explain things I feared people would get defensive and think I was criticizing them for playing without me. I know nobody was trying to hurt my feelings so I didn't want to give that impression. And I didn't want to ruin everyone else's fun.

Some questions for you. First, if you invite someone into your home, to what extent do you accommodate their physical limitations? Second, in the future is there any way I can avoid this situation repeating? Everyone at the party knew about my limited eyesight so mentioning that won't change anything. Finally, is this just something I need to suck up as another sad consequence of losing eyesight? Am I tilting at a windmill here?

Thanks.

Holiday Greetings

Happy holidays, everyone!

The holiday season is finally here. Time to knock off work, rush to buy presents, and gather with family and friends. Robin and I have several Christmas traditions, starting this weekend with decorating a Christmas tree. And snuggling in a warm home looking out at perfectly-timed snow.

It's fitting time to appreciate the loved ones in our lives. I had several medical challenges arise recently, up to and including major surgery. The only way I can endure these hardships is with support from Robin. She's a skilled Sherpa who guides us to the summit, handling tasks beyond my current ability. As we enjoy the view from our mountaintop I want to gratefully acknowledge that our presence here is due to Robin's quiet quotidian efforts.

We both wish you all a wonderful holiday and Happy New Year!

A Star's Career

There's an old joke in Hollywood, which has been quoted many times, about the five stages of a star's career. For purpose of illustration I'll use my name for the star:

1. Who is Ralph Hummel?

2. Get me Ralph Hummel!

3. We need someone like Ralph Hummel.

4. What we need is a young Ralph Hummel.

5. Who is Ralph Hummel?