Abraham and Alternate Side of the Street Parking

I don't understand why I don't hear more about the widely held Islamic belief that Abraham was told by God to sacrifice his son Ishmael, not Isaac. I'm embarrassed to say how late in life I learned of this (or maybe I learned it early and forgot). Regardless, once again, I can thank Alternate Side of the Street Parking, because it brought it to light for me. You see, it's suspended on Idul-Adha, the feast that commemorates the event. When I saw it on the parking calendar, I looked it up.

And maybe if I was a Muslim I might wonder why I don't hear more about how Abraham was told to sacrifice Isaac in Judaism. Now I know very little about Islam, and my minor Wikipedia investigation on this subject has lead me to believe that there is some question in Islam about which one was to be sacrificed, but I'm also reminded of the story of Cain and Abel.  Sibling rivalry has apparently been around for a very long time. And I'm pretty sure it wouldn't come as a shock to anybody who knows about the two different accounts of the event that to the casual observer it looks as if the roots of the discrepancy might reside in jealousy. The jealousy resulting from the question of who God loves more, the Muslims, or the Jews (and by extension Christians).

Normally people look at things in the context of their own religion. In that context either story may make sense, but could it make sense in the larger context of a particular group of people wanting to be God's favorite? And isn't it odd that we seem to determine how much God loves us by whether or not God asked Abraham for our ancestor to be sacrificed? I'm not trying to belittle any religion here, but I can't help but wonder sometimes if God isn't trying to tell us something.

On the Would-be Proudness and Girth of My Knee

The girth of my right knee is 368 mm, which is about the same as that of my left knee. I consider this an accomplishment, because it was swollen for a year or two after my patella tendon rupture surgery. What remains is a very pronounced lengthwise scar about 6 inches long on the face of the knee. People are prone to think I had a knee replacement, which makes me feel even older than I am, but such is not the case.

I've been burdened with kneecaps of an uncommon heighth all my life, but after the surgery my right kneecap has come to exhibit a singular proudness. Those who've born witness seem duly impressed as it has rose up a good deal. The patella, or kneecap, is a bone distinguished from most other bones, in that it floats in a tendon, the one that connects the quadriceps muscles to the tip of the shinbone, or tibia. I've learned this simple fact the hard way, and I think it's given me the right to speak with some authority on the subject. When my tendon's connection was severed from the shinbone my kneecap could be found a good distance up the front of my thigh. After the tendon was reattached, and the swelling went down enough to find the kneecap, it still displayed a clear, though not nearly as strong, preference for the thigh. Whether I flexed the knee so hard during the recovery period that the tendon was stretched inordinately and/or the doctor's kneecap placement was less than ideal, I don't know. Anyway, all things considered, I'm reasonably sanguine of the result.

Items on the Front Porch

This is from my black and white period. Here we have an oriental lamp and the colonial version of the Campbell soup kids, circa 1988. The wall is dark green.

Slicing Pickle Spears for Hamburgers

A lot of times I will get a pickle spear with my hamburger, not slices. If a knife is provided I will often slice it crosswise, and put the resulting slices on the burger. I find though that they are a bit too thick and they fall off of it. I've been thinking the past few days, especially in light of my recent purchase of frozen hamburger patties and pickle spears (that was all that they had at Duane Reade) that I might want to consider slicing them lengthwise. We will see where this goes.

Update (as of 3-24-13): The lengthwise slices of pickle spears still slipped off the burger. When I put them underneath the burger they didn't slip out as much. I'm not sure I'll have the presence of mind to continue that practice in the future. Also, I have a sharp knife at home, but when I eat out I often don't and it really requires a sharp knife.

Froth and the Routine

I used to feel that the actions I make by route gave my life the feeling of absurdity because they were not conscious actions. As I grow older I've come to find solace in those actions. Routine makes things easier, and it seems to me that most of my actions are completely unconscious, and I'm fine with that. For example, if I had to think about every turn of the steering wheel when I'm driving I'd go insane. Once you learn how to do something, you generally don't have to think about it anymore when you do it, and that's really a gift. I usually pay my bills in the morning before I go to work. This seems contradictory to me because I have the least energy to do things like that then, but it makes sense because, as I put things off, I learned to pay my bills just before I had to, which was in the morning when I had to put them in the mail on time. There are countless examples of this, you get the idea. 

Then, how does my mind raise an action to consciousness? There seems to be some threshold, above which I become aware of the actions I'm doing, and have to use a different faculty because the actions required aren't clear and/or haven't been ingrained enough, or maybe are to complex. Of course, much of my conscious life is filled with inaction, and things I can't find clear solutions for regardless of how much I think about them. It seems like consciousness is like the bubbles on top of a pot of boiling water. It has frothy, effervescent quality. One bubble after another wafting into nothingness, but most of my life it seems to me is completely unconscious. It's only when an issue rises to a certain level that consciousness is required. I really need to look back at my life and see where I've gone to judge the character of the froth, and not look so much on the present state of the froth to gain any confidence.

A Bird and a Beer

 A bird I know seems to have gotten out of the house. Here he can be seen flying towards the east.

One in a series of pictures of beer on a bar. This is a baby glass.

The Benefits of a Long Commute

For the past 8 years or so, I've lived 60 miles from where I work. I won't torture you with the boring details, but my calculations show that because of that I'm now approximately 65 nanoseconds younger than I would have been, with respect to my workplace, than if I had lived close to work. I think my co-workers may notice the difference, but they haven't said anything. Also, a tenth of a nanometer can be subtracted from the miles I've accumulated on my car's odometer.