Horizons

25^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

Among the many things my mother could claim to be one was a science teacher and she spent her summers teaching at the Youth Science Center. The class that I remember best was anatomy as my mother had me help with a lecture or two.

   

That memory resonates for no good reason, but I still recall my mother preparing for her lecture. We had fried chicken the night before, and from that my mother would take a piece of cartilage to show the class. I was so thin as a child that you could see my bones well, and she had me stand in front of the class and show them the skin of my back and point out where the cartilage was in my spine.

   

She would then show them the bit of chicken and explain that it was much like the human nose. It was not for decades after that I would learn that bone is matrix tissue not composed entirely of cells but, well, more like coral to me. The bone is secreted by cells that make their homes in it like a tiny version of coral.

   

My mother loved science with a passion that I have never been able to emulate but the truth be told for the whole of my life she knew she was dying so she lived every moment as best she could. Nothing brought her more joy than expanding the horizons of others.

   

Love to know, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Breaking Up - Jerry Seinfeld

 

My Pool

24^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

You would never think it by looking at me now but there was a time in my life that the skin stretched hard over my frame. This manifestation of myself was due to an aboveground pool my mother had installed. As a youth this was my greatest joy to get in the water even if I did little swimming.

   

That was youth for me in its purest nature as I would come home, strip to my briefs, and jump in the water. Rain or shine I would pace the pool feeling the weightlessness of buoyancy and getting so great a workout that I was thin as a rail.

   

The pool was also a learning experience for my family as my mother would collect any interesting thing that found its way into the water. We found a few water bugs that braved the chlorine that my mother took to show her science classes.

   

Then, as these pools are flimsy things, the side rusted out and the pool exploded into the yard. We came home one day to find the back yard full of ankle deep water and bugs of all kinds floating in the swamp.

   

As wondrous as this apparition was it got old fast and after a few days it became the household’s major complaint. This was noted by my neighbors who suggested that the water be used to water the plants on their side of the wall.

   

I took that as a cue and took a pen to one of the irrigation holes in the wall. This flooded the neighbor’s driveway and complaints abounded. Well, be careful what you wish for because you can get more of it than you wanted.

Stay dry, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Conjure Me a Boat, Son

23^rd February 2012

Dear Cassi,

Sometimes the bull in my life is a big deal and sometimes it’s just a little thing. I’ve learned in life that small things are add up. If we don’t look after the bits then the big things get bumbled.

   

The case came to mind the other day when I was clearing out the garage and ran into the old boxes of acrylic tile that Alan had left over from replacing my good carpets with cheap crap floors. No, I will never forgive the man for lowering the living standard of his children. He was my parental guardian in the loosest sense of the word.

   

The tile had come into play one day when, for science class, I had to make a small boat. This was to be something I could carry to school so toy boat size. It had to be water worthy and would be loaded with weights until it sank.

   

When I took this assignment to my parental guardian he referred me to a piece of acrylic tile and said it was the right shape. How a flat square translated to a boat keel I still have yet to understand. “You just have to look for something that shape” he said and bent the tile so that it was an arch. Again, what would have fashioned this into a small floating object I still cannot tell you.

   

I imagine that I could have fashioned a boat out of a few tiles had I a means to cut them which he had failed to provide. Had I the tools and know how I have today I could have made a rather nice boat out of those tiles with enough work. However, I was a ten year old without a knife to cut the tiles with or an edge to keep them in line.

   

I made a boat at of a old foam meat tray and got plus points for making it look like a river barge. I asked for help and got none.

Story of my life

Richard Leland Neal  
Also updating today!

Jonny American a webcomic

http://jonnyamerican.blogspot.com/

Random Street Theater a Comic

http://randomstreet.blogspot.com/

Follow a Path - Ellen DeGeneres

 

Leaky

22^nd February 2012

Dear Cassi,

Today was one of those days when I just feel unappreciated. One of the washrooms at work had flooded the floor and made a mess. People ran about looking for water damage thinking that it might have been like the last time this happened on the second floor when a shower valve had broken.

   

After the commotion and phone calls I was finally permitted to take my patrol and have a look at the problem myself. It was a toilet running at full blast so that water sprayed about. Someone had plugged it because it was making noise, but now that it had been cleared the running water was more a nuisance than anything else.

   

I pulled out my needle nose pliers and a penny; I had no screwdriver, and got off the valve cap then tried to close the valve with the penny. As I moved it about little shreds of red mettle came off the coin, and it became clear that it was too soft to do the job. I tried with the end of the pliers and that worked so I closed off the valve so that the sound of running water no longer rang through the halls.

   

In the end the supervisor placed it in the report that I had closed the valve and had me show her where it was so she could close it if needed. Still I was offered no thanks in this regard. One would think that the amount of water I saved would have warranted a thank you email from management.

   

Then, in all the reason I had to deal with the problem thanks was not among them. First off it cost my work money to let that water run, and that money could go to better things for the clients. Second, think of the environment and how much water I saved. Third, my clients need a good night sleep. I could add a few on there but in the end I was helping everyone. 

I work in an office but I still get dirt on my hands for a living. I am an honest man and few folks will ever know our value.

Stay strong, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Down the Gofer’s Hole

21^st February 2012

Dear Cassi,

When I was in grade school gofers were a common thing in the schoolyard. They could have been moles and as I’m not sure as to the difference I will call them gofers.

   

As it happened the rule was that we, the children, were not allowed to dig or put our hands in the sand on the school ground. This, they told us, was because cats pooped in the sand and they didn’t want children playing with poop. I guess in the world of six to eight year olds playing with poop is something that was done.

   

In any case, I was walking to the jungle gym one day and got my foot stuck in a hole made by one of those pesky gophers and tripped. It didn’t hurt much and I was more fascinated by the whole that wasn’t there a moment ago.

   

I pulled my foot out and looked in wondering if I could see a tunnel and moving the dirt around with my hands. This was when I heard a teacher call me and looked up.

   

I don’t remember what teacher or even of teacher is the right word to describe this person. She accused me of digging in the sand, and I said that I had tripped on a gopher hole. She didn’t believe me and said if “it was a gopher hole then there wouldn’t be grass in it.”

   

“The ground gave out from under me,” I replied, “why wouldn’t there be grass in the hole?”

   

“If it was a gopher hole how did you get dirt on your hands?”

   

“I reached down to see what the hole was.”

   

In the end I think I got in trouble for it but in the case I have to agree with the teacher. Better safe than sorry when it comes to kids playing with cat poop.

Keep your hands clean, little sister

Richard Leland Neal 

Wrecked on the Roadway

20^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

This morning I came across a wrecked car on the roadway and stopped to investigate. I had a feeling that something was wrong as the lights were out on the street and making my way down I could tell they were out for some distance. I turned a corner onto Santa Anita road and saw the sparkle of glass in my headlights.

   

I could tell there was a car in the distance the moonlight. I dark twisted shape loomed on the side of the road like a dead beast. By this derelict was a telephone pole hanging by its lines. The downed pole had to be the cause of the power outage. I passed the car in the darkness and pulled over. The driver could have still been in there for all I knew.

   

With my hazard lights blinking I approached the wrecked car on foot. The front end was torn away so the car could not have driven off, but I could see the cabin was still in one piece. Wishing I had my work flashlight I looked in to see only darkness. No blood stained the interior, and there was no sign that injury had taken place.

   

I walked back to my own car when I was approached by a local. She said that the car had been there for a spell but she had no phone to call the police. I had to ask her where I was and on her answer I called 911 and reported the incident.

   

Trouble came with that as there was dispute over what police agency was to look after this problem. I was referred from one operator to another then back again. During this interlude I noted a car approaching slowly with lights that searched the gloom. I waved them over and found that this was a sheriff’s cruiser. I told 911 and they hung up on me.

   

The deputies thanked me for doing my civic duty and sent me on my way. The whole excursion took a half hour longer than expected, but at least I know that in a world folks who drive on by I am one who stops.

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal
Also updating today!

Random Street Theater a Comic

http://randomstreet.blogspot.com/

Insomnia and Math Skills - Anonymous

 

Fluoxetine, Prozac, Grapefruit, and 5-HTP

Okay, let me clarify that this is what a pharmacist wrote me but that I do not stand behind these statements in anyway. If you are taking medication it is your responsibility to talk to your doctor about it and you should not use this to treat or diagnose any condition.

Some tome in May of 2012

Dear Mr. NEAL,

Thank you for using (Our) on-line pharmacist question service.

Based on my most up-to-date references, there is no significant drug interaction listed between Prozac (brand name for fluoxetine) and grapefruit so you should be able to have grapefruit while taking Prozac.

As for 5-HTP, taking 5-HTP with Prozac may potentially increase serotonin levels and cause a condition called serotonin syndrome as well as a brain condition called as Call-Fleming syndrome. Serotonin syndrome is an uncomfortable and potentially serious reaction whose symptoms include fever, uncontrolled muscle movements, digestive symptoms, and others.

Therefore, this combination is not recommended.

In general, I don't recommend taking dietary supplements in the hopes of getting medical benefits from them, without first checking with your own clinician.

Many people are not aware that, in the U.S., products sold as dietary supplements (including herbs, glucosamine, chondroitin, SAM-e, enzymes, and even some hormones) are not standardized or regulated to the same extent, or in the same ways, that prescription medications, non-prescription (over-the-counter or 'OTC') medications, or even foods are.

Unless there is a USP (United States Pharmacopeia) standard (which exists for many vitamin and mineral products, but not for herbs, etc.), there is no assurance of :
identity (what the label says is in the bottle);
purity (lack of unwanted or even harmful contaminants);
or potency (the dose the label says is in the bottle);
and the manufacturer does not have to perform valid studies of safety or effectiveness.

Further, there is very little information on possible interactions among dietary supplements, or between dietary supplements and prescription or non-prescription medications.

Even if an up-to-date reference doesn't warn about interactions between a specific dietary supplement and another medication, this doesn't mean that an interaction isn't possible. It may be that interactions have occurred, but have not yet been recognized, reported, published, and integrated into the medical references.

If you haven't already, please discuss your use or interest in the use of dietary supplements with your regular clinician. Good medical care is based in large part on open communication!

Please read over any written information on your medications that you may have received from your doctor, nurse practitioner, or pharmacist if you haven't already done so. I also recommend reading the information on your medications in the drug encyclopedia on our Web site. This will help you familiarize yourself with the side effects, warnings, and other precautions relevant to your medications, and will help make your treatment as safe and effective as possible.

I hope this information is helpful. If you have any additional questions or concerns about your medications, please feel free to contact your clinician or pharmacist.

Thanks again for your question. Sincerely,
(A pharmacist ) 

Prozac vs. Marijuana - Bill Maher

Our Little War

14^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

On my list of foolish things I did as a young man is an event that took place over about three days during the first Gulf War. I was ten or eleven and we the children had our own little war without real sides or fighting but more the buildup of arms.

   

In our own little war we collected rocks and separated them by size and gave the sizes names. I recall that we had scuds and patriots, but what other names we may have used I have long lost in my fading memory.

   

I recall the largest rocks as being softball sized bits of concrete. We could have killed with them had we ever thrown them. What they were doing in the school yard was a good question.

   

I do recall that they had been the byproduct of some construction. An apparatus that had been built with adults sizes in mind and had no use on a child’s play ground then it made little difference because it was torn apart by the local gangs.

           

There were no battles in our little war but who needs battles when you have a buildup of arms. The nature of children and our glorification of war is an odd thing given the horror of reality.

   

Then I do recall having rocks thrown at me as a child. The first time I ran away, the second I stood my ground, the third I ran after the attacker making it clear that there activity would be met with force. Sometimes aggression is the answer, but what I would have done had I caught my attacker is anyone’s guess.

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Depression is Not a Gift

13^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

   

Depression is not a gift no matter what they say about it or how you deal with the problem. Depression is the side effect of some malefactor in your life. It is the body shutting itself down to live through the bad times. Depression is the human equivalent to a computer going into stand by.

   

It is true, if hard to see, that every situation that can be managed can be seen as an opportunity. My losing my job was a bad thing but you can look at it as an opportunity to change, to make my life better, and that is what I did in that case. However, not losing it would have been better in most situations.

   

It is even possible to see my falling out with my family as a gift of some kind. The situation let me let go of them and gave me interesting material for stories. Still, I guaranty that there are easier ways to come up with stories than to live them or have your soul put in a blender.

   

To some extant life is only what you make of it but we still have to understand that depression is not a gift. If it was a gift I would be the most gifted man on earth. No, depression is not a gift, but we can great it with the will to go on and the strength to overcome.

Stay safe, little sister

        

Richard Leland Neal

Also updating today!

Random Street Theater a Comic

http://randomstreet.blogspot.com/

Like Everything is Fine - Anonymous

 

Dances with Dishwasher

12^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

I’m writing to you rather than finishing my homework for Life and Human Development. Then, I would have been done by now if I hadn’t had to watch my dishwasher’s instillation. I was there to help hand my neighbor tools as he put the thing in but you would think Paul could have done the job. After all how much brain power does it take? However, every time I tried to leave the situation to him in a moment I would be called back to deal with something or other.  

   

On the up side the job was done right. My dishwasher was a mess and problems had to be attended. The old machine had been hardwired, and hardwiring is dangerous as it’s much harder to ensure that the power is off. Paul would have let it slide, but I made the point that with the thing open it was time to get the work done.

   

Then we found a leak in the cold water valve. I asked for its replacement, and Paul had a look on his face like he wanted to kill me. I know it was a few more dollars, but the leak would only do more damage if it was left to run.

   

It took leverage wrenches to get the valve free, but the nipple behind it was rusted and crushed under the wrench. It had to come out. My neighbor tried and tried to wrench it, but all that would happen is the pipe would bend. I suggested magnetic solvent, but he said that it would only work if we wanted to leave the pipe for a few minutes. I made the point that we had been trying for at least a quarter of an hour to get the nipple free and it had failed. He could move on to another repair and let the solvent sit.

   

He did as I said and the bit of old rusted pipe came away easily. Within was a garden of brown and red that I would have found charming had it not been a part of my kitchen sink.

Well, off to my homework

                                   

Richard Leland Neal

Drummer's Twins

 

Trespass

10^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

   

One of the events that rather put a stick in my side was the trespassing of a homeless couple on the shelter grounds. Understand that I have been hired to prevent trespassers and these folks had been told before but came back the next night and refused to leave. Reluctantly, we called the police but they never came.

   

The next night I received a report of a girl crying in the parking lot and as I could not be relieved someone else came to this girl and asked if she required help. The second half of the couple came and they were given option of coming in and sleeping in the shelter or taking themselves elsewhere.

   

I went out there in the cold on my patrol and found them sleeping in an awning. The man had all the blankets and the woman was curled up like a dog. I know he was an angry man because the first time I asked him to leave he curst at me and screamed “We’re just trying to survive!” We had offered him good conditions, a clean bed, and hot food. How sleeping on the street was a better way of surviving I cannot say.

   

In the end the police came and cuffed them, but let them go, and they moved off. I have never seen them again. Still, I have to question what they think of as surviving. I think that what they mean by surviving is living by their own rules, doing as they please, and sleeping on the street.

I talked to the police for a spell and they said that most of the homeless they come across are mentally ill. How to get folks who are so bad off mentally off the streets and into a program and even then eventually living own their own is beyond me. It’s all I can do to help the wayward come home.

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Tyson on Baseball

 

Feeling Well

8^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

I’m sure you will be glad to hear that I am feeling well. The coughing has not departed but it has lessened and I no longer feel as if I will faint when I have a fit. This comes with the daunting task of catching up on my homework, the dishes, and my laundry, so I greet it with little enthusiasm. 

    

I was ill for more than a month and so the things I have neglected are numerous and deep into the decay of dereliction. My dirty clothes have made a continuous carpet from my shower to my bed, and I don’t even want to tell you about my car.

    

Worst of the lot is my grad school posts which I should have had something in the range of ten a week but now only have had about two. I was asked by one of my two professors to go back and add these responses. So I have five weeks of work to catch up on and where I will get the time I have no idea. For every one day I was ill I am now two days behind.

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Mozart and the Chickens

 

Cat Beats Black Bear

 

The Dishwasher I Never Wanted

5^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

So yesterday I told you of my dishwasher woes today I will tell you of how the washer came into my home. I have little recall if this was 2003, 2004, or some time before that, but its arrival brought no joy. I recall that I was having money problems and working myself half to death to get out of them.

At the time my completely unloving family made a token effort to hold up their end of things. One of the points of contention was the fact that it was one of Paul’s responsibilities was to wash the dishes.

The man was never very responsible. Dishes sat in the sink for weeks until they rotted. Even when the dishes got done the caked on grime was never washed away. I would take a glass from the cabinet only to place it back in the sink. It got to the point that I just started washing dishes on my own.

   

In order to get Paul to wash the dishes my grandmother, who is on a fixed income, bought him a dishwasher. I was furious. Rewarding him for refusing to wash dishes was one thing but this raised the bills I had to pay by three hours wages a month at the time. To top things off the dishes still got back in the cabinet dirty.

   

When my grandmother asked I told her that all she had done was make my life harder. I recall her screaming “That is so stupid I don’t know what to say,” and slamming the phone down in my ear. Folks never did get the idea on talking things out before doing and so the idea of preplanning is lost of my genetic similars.

   

With the dishwasher broken I’m back to doing dishes on my own. You tell me, did this help in any way?

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Dentist Award

 

The Day the Dishwasher Died

4^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

Today my dishwasher died. You would think that this would be of no consequence to me as I rarely use the device. However, my illness over the past month has made washing dishes hard for me, and what good would it do to wash dishes when you will simply get them dirty with coughing? 

   

In any case, I roused today to have my Paul complain about the machine running without stop for the last six hours. I opened the device to see water standing in the bottom and the heating element sizzling away. As clumps of lime the size of large mice have been a commonplace find in this device I added lime solvent. This did no good so I added bleach. I never knew what a bad idea this was until the fumes burnt my eyes and I nearly collapsed from coughing.

   

More than once I had to run outside to let the green goo of my illness out of my lungs, and even with the fans on the house was uninhabitable for an hour and a half. We sat out on the back lawn waiting for the smell to abate. Paul commented that even as I had failed to repair the machine I had succeeded in making teargas.

   

He had ordered a new dishwasher even before I put the liquids in the old one. The machine was a Kenmore and he refuses to do business with Sears ever again. They have a tendency to kick washing machines until they start running again and call them fixed. In a week or two I’ll have a new dishwasher. I didn’t want the old one, but what can you do?

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Old Tabby and a Fire

 

Cloud Underwear

 

Camp Cherry Valley Silver Mine

2^nd February 2012

Dear Cassi,

   

One story that has stayed with me over the years is that of the Camp Cherry Valley silver mine. Cherry Valley was a place that had been taken up by the boy scouts after the silver had long run dry.

Most vivid in my memory is the ferry that took us to the island the camp was on and the clear blue water of the surrounding sea. That was the first time I saw a live flying fish but the fish only sat on the top of the water without flying for us.

I recall the tidal pools where two boys hunted for crabs. At high tide the pools were living gardens, but when the tide was low the sea anemones would curl up covered in rocks. If you touched one of these bundles of stone they would let out a bit of water.

On the first day of this camp the care taker took us all down to the mine and told us the story of its collapse. Two men had ownership of the land and they had followed the wealth down into the earth. Then one day one of them men was working down in the mine and the other through a stick of dynamite down the shaft and killed him.

This was a life taken in greed but then one must ask if some gas seeping from the bedrock had played a part. The air in those manmade caves has always been a problem so long as men have cut into the earth. With this in mind it is clear that excavations can have bad effects on mental health. If this fellow had a set of lungs full of gas he may have made a bad decision. Still it ended poorly for the man as he was so guilty over his homicide that he jumped off a cliff. Is it justice?

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Three Parts of Age - Sir Norman Wisdom

 

I Woke from Illness

28^th January 2012

Dear Cassi,

         

I woke from illness today with my tongue swollen and my skin dry and crusted. My body had done some work over the night and I was feeling the drain of its labor. I noted also soreness in my mouth and a white spot on the left side of my tongue that looked something like a pimple.

         

The next surprise of the day was that I had difficulty talking. It was in no way an inability, but clearly the soreness and swelling changed the sound of my voice.

         

Feeling down in the dumps over this lasted manifestation of my illness I turn to my usual form of comfort: fast food. To my surprise my mouth objected. The salt made my mouth sting in parts and I could hardly chew.

         

As the day dragged on I was more and more perturbed by the pain in my mouth and took to bighting and scratching at the white spot on my tongue. This did nothing so I stood in front of the mirror with a knife and cut the lump by running the blade along my tongue. I could see a small amount of puss run into my saliva.

         

I pressed on with this hoping to clear the wound, but got no more than a line of blood. This had taken some of the pain away. Still there is more but my homework is calling, so I must bid you adieu.

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Waldo's Stripes

 

The Anatomy of a Lie: Interruption

24^th January 2012

Dear Cassi,

Have I ever discussed with you the anatomy of a lie that is interruption? The nature of lies have lain heavily upon me in these last few years and so I have looked at them with greater interest. How have lies hurt us both? Well, there is no question as to their sting, but the interruption of truth is the most devious lie one can tell.

         

When I went into the office at my old work and had to talk to Rusty what did he do? Yelled, screamed, and never let me talk. Why? If I cannot speak then I cannot defend myself. It is so easy to win an argument against the voiceless.

         

This was a tactic of your ex-husband, that Turtle Nose freak, when he finally broke the silence after a year and a half of lying to others to get at me. I recall that part of the conversation so well.

         

“If you won’t talk to me,” he said.

         

“I told you to call…” and he cut me off mid sentence.

         

“I called you three times, and I didn’t know you where upset until my grandmother…” he lied. He stopped at that point trailing off and digging for sympathy.   

         

His best friend had passed the last three weeks without a word to him and he was unaware the man was upset. Even he must have known how bad a lie this was and still I had told him I would be absent from his company unless he called and left a message informing me of his plans. If he had forgotten why did he not enquire as to my absence, because he felt my presence in his life was unimportant?

         

No, the truth is that I had asked him for something, and he made it a point to never do as I asked. It was the cornerstone of his lie that I was always saying no to him. That, however, is a topic for another day.

Live true, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Also updating today!

Jonny American a webcomic

http://jonnyamerican.blogspot.com/

Random Street Theater a Comic

http://randomstreet.blogspot.com/

Booby Trap

 

After Day

 

Teacher is not Watching

15^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

Every now and then I come across an odd thought about my younger life. I don’t know why I write about then but then perhaps I have need for something to write on in the humdrum of my basic life. I know I need to get more going but to be honest I have always failed to thrive in that regard.

       

The incident that came to me the other day was something that took place while I was giving a presentation in front of my third grade class. The class wouldn’t stop talking over me and I made mention of this stopping my report.

       

The teacher said “just give me a name,” and I cannot recall what would befall the person so unfortunate to be named. Then, had the teacher not so many ears and eyes as I? Only now do I ponder if my report was so bland that the teacher’s attention had wondered off.

       

One of the more basic points of teacher hood is that they are there to look after their students. The teacher should have been in command of the situation and shown us all how one looks after children. I found it frustrating at the time but mildly so.

       

This event is no major sticking point with me but just something that came up in thought. It is one of those reminders that the world is rarely as it should be and that we can’t always rely on those who are there to look after us.

       

These are important life lessons illustrated by so small an event. Then, if there is one thing we both know it is that we cannot always rely on those who are there to look after us.

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Also updating today!

Random Street Theater a Comic

http://randomstreet.blogspot.com/