Making Plans

My parents are coming down for my birthday, which is nice, but also anxiety producing. The house is a mess. Something or someone has fleas. Possibly the nasty rug in the living room that we should just replace instead of fighting with it.

And then they’re all “You come up with something for us to do!”

Oh, yeah, because that isn’t the least bit stressful either.

So, fuck it. I decided we’re going to Chattanooga to the National Cemetery to see Uncle David. It’s a curse or a blessing, but you fuck a Phillips, you get to be in the family forever.

David L. Ransom was in the 1st Michigan Engineers, Company I. He died in March 17th, 1864 in Bridgeport, Alabama, of smallpox. Here are some pictures of them, but I’m sure he’s already dead. Still, if he was in Bridgeport, he had to be there literally opening the Cracker Line, right? Or building the infrastructure to keep it open, anyway. The most charming thing about the 1st? Their motto was “We don’t surrender much.” It’s got to be right up there with “The Lord is my rock and my salvation, I shall not be greatly moved.” in terms of my favorite sentiment. You can move us, yes, but not far.

His brothers-in-law didn’t enlist until 1864 and they were both in the reorganized 4th Michigan Infantry, Company G. So, they had no Civil War overlap.

Weirdly enough, in my book, the bad guy attacks that supply line. But I didn’t realize the connection until now.

Banal Complaining about Facebook

Facebook serves two functions for me. 1. It allows me to keep up with relatives and people from high school. 2. It lets me play mindless games at lunch.

I don’t want to chat with people over Facebook on my phone. I want Facebook to stop asking me.

But more than that, I loathe the thing where someone posts an interesting looking article to Facebook and you go to click on it and it wants permission to track what I read and share it on my timeline. Okay, so then did the person sharing the article not actually think it was interesting? I mean, I read lots of crap in any given day. I don’t want Facebook making it look like I’m purposefully sharing something I might actually think is stupid. And why the hell would Facebook think that I want to make it easier for them to track me when I’m not on Facebook?

Honestly, it’s scary to me how much information we unwittingly let private corporations collect about us that, if we found out the government were doing it, we’d have a stroke. And it’s not just a matter of “well, you choose to participate in Facebook.” Yes, I do, but I, an educated person, cannot figure out what my participation entails. I don’t actually know if I’m choosing. Or what I’m choosing.

I always end up surprised by that, later.

It may be legal, but I don’t feel like it’s ethical.

I Find Myself the Weirdo

Yesterday, after lunch, I was falling asleep in my chair and feeling grouchy. I really wanted to go for a walk, but women’s dress shoes are just about the opposite of good walking shoes. Plus, I needed to be able to keep an eye on the office.

So, I slipped off my shoes and walked the long hallway over and over until I felt myself waking up and feeling less grouchy.

It was awesome! I mean, I felt foolish the whole time, just pacing up and down the hall for twenty minutes, and then mortified when some folks at the far end saw me and tried to hold the door for me like I might be going down the stairwell and I had to explain that I was just pacing.

But I felt better.

Like a hamster in a cage, but better.