Don’t watch this if you have any fear of heights. Seriously.
Category: Uncategorized
Designer Luke Clark Tyler takes us on a short guided tour of his tiny 78 square foot apartment in Manhattan. Tyler lives and works in the apartment while forgoing such luxuries as a bathroom and kitchen. The video was produced by SPACES.
National Geographic photo of Parrandas festival fireworks in Cuba by photographer Paolo Pellegrin.
Most people do not know how to properly adjust their car’s side-view mirrors. Folks tend to like to keep them positioned so that they can see the rear end of the car. Unfortunately, this creates a terrible blind spot, forcing people to crane their necks around to see if someone is there. It also effectively turns the side-view mirrors into rear-view mirrors. Since you already have a rear-view mirror in the center of the windshield, this is superfluous.
Set your side-view mirrors as follows:
- For the passenger-side mirror, set it so that you cannot see the rear end of the car until your head is in the center of the cabin.
- For the driver-side mirror, set it so that you cannot see the rear end of the car until your head is touching the window.
Now, go take a test drive. It will seem weird at first. Best way is on the freeway. Drive slower than traffic so that people are passing you on both sides.
As a car approaches you from behind, you’ll see it in your rear-view mirror. As it gets closer, you’ll see it disappear from the rear-view mirror, and at the same time you’ll see it appear in your side-view mirror. There will be an overlap, where for a moment you’ll see it in both mirrors. As the car passes you, you’ll see it disappear from your side-view mirror just as it enters your peripheral vision to your side. Again, there will be some overlap, where for a moment you’ll simultaneously see it in your side mirror and perceive its presence in your peripheral vision.
Do this, and you will never again need to look over your shoulder before changing lanes. Of course, you can still double-check if you want, but you’ll never have a blind spot again. Just check those mirrors!
Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everyone!
Well, it’s been two weeks today since we got my MIL out of that horrible nursing home and back at Grossmont Gardens. She’s actually been slowing improving. They have gotten her to get out of bed and into a wheelchair every day. They are giving her some physical therapy. She claims she could get around if she really had to, but just doesn’t care to. She thinks she’ll be going back to her old room any time now. We keep trying to tell her she has to be ambulatory before that can happen. But her spirits are good, she seems chipper and happy. It makes my day when I can make her laugh.
Meanwhile, we have to keep paying the rent on her old room, just in case. Rich will be prying some real answers out of the doctor next week, come hell or high water.
I defy you all to watch this with your mouths shut. This is the best slacklining I’ve ever seen. Better even than the guy who did it over a canyon abyss. Those dudes only had to walk across. Pussies.
Click here to watch. Don’t forget your mouths.
Two weeks ago, we got a call from the assisted living place MIL lives in, Grossmont Gardens. She (likely) had the flu, and as a result, couldn’t get out of bed, and soiled her bed. She’s also not bathing or setting out clothes to be washed. Rich agreed to upgrade her service to include adult diapers and (sort of enforced) laundry.
Then Thursday last week, she landed in the hospital again. This has happened twice before. She’d stay for two or three days and go back home. Mostly dehydration and joint pain.
This time, however, it was a week. Then she couldn’t go straight home; she had to be “evaluated” first. The hospital wanted her out, NOW!!! So she went to a “rehabilitation center,” which is a nursing home. It was HORRIBLE, just like all nursing homes. The first morning, they tried to get her out of bed. It took two nurses to just lift her into a sitting position on the side of her bed. She was screaming and crying. They rated her pain as an 8 on a scale of 10. She kept saying she just wanted to go back home. It breaks my heart.
It was clear to everyone, including her doctor, that she is not going to be running on a treadmill. She’ll probably never walk again.
She has congestive heart failure, her kidneys are failing, and so are her lungs. The arthritis in her knees is getting unbearable, and it’s spreading to her other joints. She’s not eating anymore. Could barely force down four tiny bits of pudding, maybe a teaspoon in all. She is still drinking, though.
Towards the end of the first day, Rich busted her out of there.
Since Grossmont Gardens has rehab in their own facility, we’re not sure why she had to go to the nursing home in the first place. It’s so damn confusing. No one will give you a straight answer about anything. No one is in charge; no one is responsible or accountable. Confusion and apathy reign as you get sucked into the system.
Anyway, the lady he spoke to was quite indignant. “We have PROTOCOLS, you know.”
Rich: “Well, I’m telling you what her protocol is going to be. I’m withdrawing my consent for her to be there.”
Lady: “This is HIGHLY unusual.”
Rich: “And that affects me how?”
Lady: “Do you know what TIME it is?”
It was 4:30 on a Friday afternoon. She probably had a local bar in her immediate future. I sure would have if I worked in that shithole.
Long story short, we got her out of the nursing home and back home to GG, but in their Health Care Center, which is skilled nursing for the bad cases. Still, it’s a night-and-day difference.
The nursing home is dingy, dark, and noisy, there’s constant TV noise blasting from your neighbor, who’s only 3 feet away behind a curtain. No window. Roommates die every other day. The P.A. system blasts scratchy orders all the time: “Nurse. To. Room. Three. One. Eight.” Comatose-looking people parked in wheelchairs in the hallways. No one speaks decent English. The food is nauseating.
In contrast, GG’s Health Care Center is quiet, spacious, airy, peaceful. Her room is huge. There are TV’s, but little personal-sized ones that swing over to the bed on an arm. She has her own room and a window. The staff there already knows and loves her. We are SO relieved.
Now it’s basically hospice time. She’ll be kept comfortable. Dementia is starting to set in. She asks everyone who comes in what time it is. When they answer, she says, “Oh my. I really should be getting up. I need to clean upstairs.” Rich says the last house they had with an upstairs was when he was a baby. Since she stopped eating, it probably won’t be more than a couple of weeks.
Saying goodbyes.
Not to leave anyone out, here’s a little equal opportunity:
Okay ladies, this one’s for you!
