I had a rather onerous task to do today, one that I was not relishing, but that I realized I couldn't put off any longer. Though I haven't written about the entire story, a week or so ago I saw Meg again, at my request. I needed to profess my love to her one more time, and I needed to know that she had heard everything I ever wanted to say to her. I needed to know without a shadow of a doubt that I had risked everything, had been bold in my pursuit of her and had done everything in my power to win her heart. I even went so far as buying her a very nice ring--not an engagement ring, but a ring that was a sign of my love for her.

As I suspected, and as I have alluded to in my blog, she said no again, but I could rest in the fact that I had done all that I could, that I had not cowered in fear, and that I had been bold enough to tell her exactly how I felt. By buying her a ring, I hoped to give her a tangible sign of how much I cherished and valued her. I felt that this was what was needed to truly write the last chapter in our story, and now I can say that the ink is finally dry.

As you can imagine, I didn't really want to go back to the jewelry store to return a diamond ring that I hoped would be residing on Meg's finger. There was a part of me that considered keeping it, but realized that hundreds of dollars were at stake and it made no sense to have a ring that was of no use to me lying around in the bottom of a drawer somewhere. I circled around the store a couple of times, took a deep breath and dove in.

There were three people working there: two women and a man. I was hoping to be able to work with only one person, and I hoped that it would not be the guy. I wanted to be as discreet as possible about the entire affair, but as I walked in, all three turned to me, and the guy happened to be closest to me and asked how he could help me. In my typical manner, I communicated through body language that I was there to regretfully return a ring, sending clear signals to anyone with any empathetic radar at all that this course of action was not desirable to me. The guy looked at me as if I was returning a shirt that had a coffee stain on it, and asked me, "was there anything wrong with the ring?"

Please. I told him no, and then in an exaggerated, verklemptish voice I said, "It's not the ring--apparently it's just that there's something wrong with me."

Awkward laughter all the way around, and it worked as I expected it to and stopped any further questions, allowing the transaction to proceed very quickly from that point on. They didn't even bother to count the diamonds, (of which there were over 30), and I think they just wanted the entire situation to be past them.

I didn't say that comment to them because it's what I believe: that there's something wrong with me. It was a quick response that I instinctively knew would allow me to get through the whole thing as quickly as possible. I am not writing this to communicate the belief that I feel that I'm "damaged goods," or something to that effect. I just needed a way to get through the damn transaction as quick as possible, but even so, as the words came out, they caught in my throat. I know that the very words I said were the very things that I have had to confront as lies in my own thinking for these past two years, and they worked. It helped bring a quick end to a squeamishly awkward situation. Never one to feel very comfortable with silence, and feeling a bit apologetic for making them go through something as uncomfortable as this, I said, "I suppose these are your least favorite transactions--the ones where the guy brings the ring back because it wasn't accepted."

She said, "Well, we're always just sorry to hear the reasons why, that's all." And with that, she handed me the receipt and out the door I went.

Ugh.

Now This is Just Sad

Paul Newman has passed away.

The Debate

I have purposely stayed well clear of the political discourse this year. I've paid attention enough to know how the candidates feel on the issues most important to me, but I've avoided watching any of the campaign coverage. I've hardly seen Obama or McCain speak--most of my news has been through the written media.

Here's my take on the debate tonight (or at least the last portion that I was able to watch because of my concert). I'm more confirmed in my decision than I was before. I agreed with nearly everything McCain said and though I found Obama to be a more gifted orator and a smooth debater, I found that I view the world fundamentally differently than he does. I think he's a naive idealist concerning foreign affairs and I find it bizarre how much he stresses whether we are "liked" on the international scene.

America has always steered an independent course, and though we have had traditional allies throughout history, we have often been viewed less than favorably by other countries. To shape a foreign policy directive based primarily on repairing what some conceive to be a tarnished international image is something that our forefathers would find laughable. If we look at history and how we have been favored or disliked by other nations, one would find that love for America is as cyclical as the seasons. France hated us, then they loved us after the war for saving them, and now they don't like us anymore. I don't care one iota what any Frenchman thinks about the US, and I will never cast a vote for President of the United States based on the belief that we need to repair our image abroad. We do not have a Eurocentric view of the world--we have a decidedly American view of the world and it is irrelevant to this citizen what any other country thinks of us. We do not historically view the world as other nations do. Why should we begin to now?

I could never vote for Obama as Commander in Chief. I see him as an appeaser. I am a voter who would want to see another Reagan in office, a man who was not afraid to attack Qhadafi or to insist to Gorbachev in Berlin, "tear down this wall!" Obama's views are unacceptable to me, and so is this milque toast dovish talk about getting around a campfire with Hugo Chavez and Co. and talking things through.

Before tonight, my vote for McCain was really a vote against Obama. It's even more so a vote against Obama than it was before, but surprisingly, my vote actually is becoming a vote for McCain.

It Truly Is Time to Flush!

After interminable tirades about Macs, and how much I detest them, I'm finally making the switch. It dawned on me as I was helping work on my parents' slide show, using my brother's computer the other day, that the same frustrations that exist on my Mac exist on others as well. I came home after working on that and the simple act of sending pictures via email seemed to be a task that was Herculean for my PowerBook, and I was ready to throw it through the nearest window.

I'm not sure if I will sell it or not. I think I'd rather use my nephew's shotgun and take pleasure in destroying it.

The final straw is that my iPhone refuses to sync with my APPLE computer. When I've gone to the forums, I've seen this solution: "I went ahead and synced it to my PC with no problems and activated it there." It seems that my PowerBook G4 doesn't have USB 2.2 and rather 1.1. One would think that the tech savvy "geniuses" at Apple would have anticipated that many of their customers would still be using the older version and would have built in the logic for their "brilliant" and "plug and play" computers to figure it out.

Today, I'm fantasizing about the thought of this computer facing a very enjoyable demise at my hands, with a shotgun at my shoulder.

I'll be buying a PC within the next month. And oh, how I would love to take a sledgehammer to this thing!!!! Any frustrations I've ever had with PC's are minuscule in comparison to those with my Mac. Mac irritations are LEGION!

Tragedy

I fear I may have lost a favorite tree in my backyard. I can only imagine that the damage it's suffered is the result of a lightning strike. I went into my backyard to mow the lawn during a break in the rain that seems to be falling all the time these days, and I noticed that the storms has produced a lot of debris on the ground that needed to be raked up. That's not unusual, but the amount seemed to be unusual. As I neared the back of my yard, I noticed a huge piece of bark lying in my neighbors backyard and I expected to see the a limb had fallen, which happens from time to time. But then as I scanned his backyard again, I saw more and more evidence of something major that had happened, and then I finally looked up at my tree. This is what I saw today:



The gash in the tree has got to be nearly thirty feet long. I don't think it's going to make it, which means I'll have to have it cut down.

We'll see what the Forestry Forum says about the subject though--they'll give me a wealth of information. If it does need to come down, that puppy's going to be milled into lumber, right in my backyard, since this summer I'm going to be getting my sawmill running again. And if that's the case, there will be a lot of knotty pine furniture in my future. I can't fathom hauling an 80 year old tree off to the land fill. That would make me sick!

I've loved this tree immensely. A neighborhood hawk has perched on it's branches many times, and for the time I lived in my house without a laptop, I always enjoyed looking out at my backyard trees from my office upstairs. I'll be bummed if it's got to go.

Divide and Conquer

My house is a dump right now. I tend to devolve into slovenly ways quite easily. I'm about ready to spring for a cleaning service to spray down my kitchen so I can just start over. The only problem is that they might need to call in the EPA to apply for Superfund Cleanup Site status. When the hazmat unit shows up you know you're in bad shape. I think I'll be alright if just have them first sign a legal disclaimer.

I'm going to leave the kitchen be for now, and start at the top, in my bedroom. I've gotten most of my house into the kind of condition where I really enjoy it. I finally have the kind of furniture I like and actually have pictures on the wall. But if I'm not vigilant, things can go south very quickly. My bedroom can be a nice haven for me, but right now it's a depository for dirty clothes. It shouldn't take too long actually to clean that up, so I'm heading up there, bringing my laptop along so I can have the Splendid Table on in the background. Once I get that done, I'll move downstairs and work on the living room, dining room and my den, all three places I really enjoy spending time.

The kitchen's like Shelob's Lair though. I don't think I can face it just yet. That's what the dining room door's for, right?