You may have new relatives.  They're so close they're more like friends than some of your extended family.  But you have no name for the relationship - like aunt or nephew or cousin - because none seems to fit.  Aunt/uncle-niece/nephew is a blend of sibling and parent-child.  There's the former with the intrigue of learnings from another generation and there's the latter without the angst.  Cousins - at least some - are like siblings, but you're joined by grandparents instead of parents.  There's enough distance where you can feel wider ranges of love than with siblings, but enough closeness where you know you better not.

There are other well-defined relations like great aunt or great nephew - where there's sort of the magic of grandparent/grandchild, but stories from growing up can be told on the sibling (your grandparent), and some perspective can be gained over beyond the traditional reverence that almost got too old.  And your parent is a niece or nephew, so some eye-openers can come from that too.

There is a mix that can be found of cousin and aunt/uncle or niece/nephew that is poorly identified.  You may be lucky enough to have this link in your family, and it might be called second-cousin.  True second cousins are like first cousins, but instead of having the same grandparent, they have the same great grandparent.  Their grandparents are siblings.  Their parents are first cousins.  Like all cousins, they are the same generation. Often a couple cousins are very close, almost like siblings, and one has children who are like nieces and nephews to the other cousin - but they are not.  They are not second cousins because of the generational difference.  Formally - because of one generation difference - they are first cousins, once-removed.  (The following children would be twice-removed.  There can be third cousins three-times removed, etc.)  The once-removed relationship, depending on the closeness of the cousins, can be rather closer than is indicated by the lack of a term such as cousin, niece, etc.

So today come into existence these relationships:  niecin, nephin, auntin, unclin.  The guy that's your parent's cousin you're so close to is your unclin.  Your cousin has a daughter with whom you are so sympatico.  She's your niecin.  Got it?

People who are regarded as overqualified or too old to be hired are the last to be hired - at least by large companies - because the HR people weed them out.  They are not working for their company by doing this, however, but for themselves.

Overqualified people tend to get promoted quickly through several successive positions as their talents are recognized.  These positions could have been filled with new hires, involving HR - or personnel - much more and perhaps a few exit interviews could be thrown in.  Nothing feeds HR like turnover.

With over 15 years to go until retirement, the over-50 set get eliminated as soon as there is a clue in the resume of longevity - a line such as TV repair apprentice would do.  Age discrimination must occur early in the process because once it can be proven, it can be illegal.  This procedure saves HR folks lots of headaches.  Also, preliminary training is often provided by the HR department as a service to the rest of the company.  After a couple years of experience - and training investments - younger employees are ready to find another entry for the resume, providing fresh work for HR.

The big system however is, in part, based on employer-provided health care.  Some people would not even continue to work if that were otherwise affordable.  Passing people into health uncertainty - perhaps as far as Medicaid - for as much as 15 years does the federal budget deficit no good.  More unhealthy people entering Medicare is another result.  Many people are just starting to shine by 50 and could be a greater asset than a micky-d part-timer or a greeter in the wall.  But it just wouldn't make sense for HR.

Jack Bauer really is good at being a team player and plays very well. He's best when he's alone on a limb. Work of art.

I like to stop Kim's heart - but on a temporary basis.

Jack Bauer would spare anyone's life if it advances the mission or aids the country. If it's at all possible, he will kill them.

Jack is where the action is and he deserves the focus everyone gives him - where would CTU be without Jack Bauer?

Jack has been there forever. Jack uses his keen intellect to lay waste to the enemy and to save the day.

Jack has long known Audrey Raines, and since his wife's untimely demise they have discovered their romantic attraction. At work she takes orders from him very well.

Jack is on a slow boat to China.

Jack places enourmous demands on Chloe O'Brien's communication software skills. They always grow as a result. Jack always finds a way to go beyond where Chloe gets him - and regards her as dispensible.

One of my assignments is to distract Kim (see below) by occasionally making her comatose and bringing her back. A dangerous side-effect is that I'm enjoying my assignment, starting to like Kim.

From: Jack Bauer
Date: Jul 20, 2006 2:18 PM
Jack:

File photo:

Docier: Operative is currently immobilized, apparently in the Andes, from the time of year. We think our junior agents should be able to handle the job. But if they blow it, Jack, we'll need to enlist your aid to ADD him to our portfolio for indoctrination. At that point we'll arrange for Kim to take him on.

Enjoy the summer, Jack, making that phone call between busting the President and going to China.

From: Jack Bauer
Date: Jul 27, 2006 12:00 AM

Jack Bauer is a west coast kind of guy who wants to deal with the east coast - on his own terms, of course, certainly not politically. Jack is an all-American guy with natural cosmopolitan skills. He speaks foreign when needed and has no regard for dead languages.

Jack has a ready reserve of enemies that corner him, beat him, and tie him to a pipe or something. He manages to blow the place up and walk out from the conflagration.

Jack is always pissed, but God, he knows how to have fun.

I appreciate a woman's stuffings and I use that to blow her mind away.

A poll of Americans confirms that Jack Bauer and Captain James T. Kirk make an unstoppable team. James Spader adds comic relief.

Paranoia, the destroyer - eh?  Well, being paranoid just isn't enough to keep them from following you. And you thought it was a social disease? Check it out:  1984 passed a long time ago.

It's a good policy to keep in force, but don't imagine for a minute it's enough to keep you safe. For every rat you see, there are a hundred you can't.  For every one that is following you, how many do you think are really good at it?

July 20, 1969

The Day the Earth Grew Up

Only the blandest of text works in these blogs so here it is.

ESVA once generated tons of produce - now the soybeans and tomatoes are all shipped off.  Dulaney, GreenGiant, and Websters used to process food right there.
Way back when the passenger trains tied to the ferries and there were lots of hotels in CC, grocery stores delivered.  Even I remember when there were 5 small grocers (two on Mason) and the 2 supermarkets.
Now you have to go out of town for the one grocery.  I bring stuff 200 miles because either it's not there, or it's rotten - like 4 onions out of a bag, or the occasional dozen eggs.  Meat's different - never get it already ground. Pick the meat and then have it ground.
There seems to be no full-time work there that would support buying a home, etc. but if that should come about, there would still need to be a return of competition in the food industry to make full-time living palatable - along with some serious entertainment and intellectual stimulation:)
As far goes crabs and beer...!  But most everyone there all the time seems bored.
The sunset takes everything. On the east coast it's only available on the gulf coast of Fla. or a Great Lake.  Now it's a wonder if they're going to wall out the whole beach like the south half.  If you can't see the water and sunset when driving "Bay Ave" why would anyone stop if passing through? Although most permanent residents say it's great, or it's god's country and all, it's the same as any other largely empty place if the beach is done away with.  Sure you could get out and walk over the dune if you know it's there, but if all you see is grass you could go to Kansas.  It's a long way from anywhere, and there's not much reason to go all that way if you break the golden goose's eggs.  If history is the draw, the triangle is lots closer to most folks (WmsBurg, Jamestown, Yorktown).

Someone said the black birds with green-sheen feathers on the back were starlings.  I said I didn't know the name, I just talk to them.

I had heard there had been lots of noise in the cellar.  (The next-door neighbor later said her cat sat on a cellar window ledge, pawing, wishing he could get in.)  So I went to check it out.  A CO detector and a curtain, rod and all, had been knocked down.  I walked around and found a black bird by the dry sump pump sump, sedate and tired.  I called for her to come and that there was no food.

I opened the door and propped open the screen.  But it was night, so no big attraction there.  Birds roost at night.  I called again and she walked along the wall, behind the chair, behind the table, into the corner.  You're near the door now, just a little more.  But no, she went under the steps and across to the laundry.  By the water heater and under the stairs to upstairs.  I said that's no good, no place to stay.  She hopped along the back wall with me following back to the sump.  Behind the furnace I had had to go. She passed the door again, with me laying back now.  She flew up to the tool bench and sat on my drill bag.

I walked past,  talking.  I sat on the landing while we appraised each other. I pointed out that another bird had gotten in last year and died. There's no food or water here for you.  He got stuck in a bug glue trap, so tired he was - you have to get out.  Fly to the door.  Watch.  I walked to the closer door to a small room, flapping my wings as I went, calling.  I turned and said the other door, pointing with my wing.

I retraced and she flew toward the open door, but she stopped at an old banana box, conveniently left behind, and entered a hole in the box.  I asked her to stay in while I moved stuff piled on top.  She reluctantly agreed, and then I was able to set the box at the door.  I had gotten the neighbor's cat to leave a little before.  She exited the far side of the box.  I praised her as she hopped through the pale light across the yard to the shed - probably roosting underneath for the night.  I looked around the cellar, in the small room, wondering - where's the other bird?

The next day, Saturday morning, I was in the cellar again. Near the door, I heard a flutter and turned to see a blackbird fly up to a clothes hanger.  I opened the door and propped open the screen again.  The sunlight streamed in, easily showing it was the way outside.

I stepped back so the door was between him and me.  I called and he looked.  I looked.  I said it was time to go.  He was tired, he'd been in all night with nothing to eat and he had to go.  He agreed and flew to the foot of the steps.  Very good, I said.  Go on, up the stairs.  He hopped up one step.  That's it, you're on your way. Go on, you can do it.  Up to the next step he hopped.  He rested and looked.  Then go on I said.  You're nearly there.  He at last hopped up to the walk.  Yes, I said, you're out.

I stepped outside and closed the doors.  I wish you'd show me how y'all get in, I said, but he was too tired, and not in the mood to share that.  We walked around the yard a half hour or so, while he ate bugs and worms.  We said nothing but he occasionally looked, I being only a couple feet away.  We walked side by side as he ate and got his strength.  He walked across the alley to another yard.  I said at last that it wouldn't do.  He had to fly again.  It hadn't been very long since he'd begun calling again, and it was very week at that. I motioned for him to rise, but he only did little more than a hop onto a log.  That won't do it, you have to really fly. You can't stay on the ground.  One more time he looked and I motioned strongly to fly. It was only four feet up and about eight feet over, but he flew into a tree and became himself again.