Imposssible!

My phone worked this morning. I talked to three people. All social calls, people close to me. Important in their own ways. Just not business.

This afternoon and ever since, it hasn't worked. I needed to make several business calls. Important calls. I set up the call, tell my phone to make the call, it shows it's doing so... for just over a second before it goes back to just displaying the number I wish to reach. 

Sometimes our house runs interference, being concrete block,  so when I had to run Richard somewhere in the car, while he was busy there I tried again. Same result. 

HEY THANKS, T-MOBILE !

Richard has the same problem. But he can change how his phone is set up to downgrade to 2G. It seemed to work for him, thou it may not be cause & effect. I can't. Never figured I'd ever want/need to. For that matter, not sure why I need the 4G my new flip phone is equipped with. All I ever do on it is talk to people. It's a phone, dang it. It's all I want. But today it isn't a phone. It's a temptation, something I'm debating throwing hard and far. Except it's not the phone's fault. It's T-Mobile.

So I decided to log in to their website and email customer disservice that way. They of course wanted me to change my password. They consider using it for over a few months makes it weak. It's weak, all right, a very polite way of swearing at them , telling them to stuff their constant insistence that I change the password. I could swear much less weakly. (Note, those of you with a hacking bent, none of those words are actually part of that password.) They still let me in, so I perused their website. Nearly every bit of is is financial stuff. How's my bill? What's my usage? Do I want to upgrade in ridiculous ways? Add people? 

Where's customer support?

Well, it's exactly where it's been for the last 23 years or so I've been their customer, well before they were even T-Mobile. It's ON MY PHONE! Using my phone I can dial 611 and get ahold of them. Otherwise there's an 800 number I can call, already programmed into my phone before I purchase it.

You get the irony, right?

IT'S FRIGGIN' IMPOSSIBLE !!!!!!

I dunno, can I shoot somebody? I mean, I'd have to go  get a gun first and way things are going I'd need to use my phone to do so. But... Can I? But for now, anyway, those offices I needed to contact are closed, so I've got overnight to hope nobody needs a 911 call or something, and try something different tomorrow.

*     *     *     *

Richard offered to help by checking out my phone. Even though we have 5G in the neighborhood right now, he's had to downgrade his in order to use it around the house. (Weird!) That was last year. He looked at mine, tried to figure how to get my dumb-phone to try a lower "G" in case that made a difference, and informed me that the 4G I was told the phone came with was really only a choice between 2G and 3G. (In case you were wondering, they're not additive. If they were,  I'd have 5G already. Silly thought. What would I need with that?)

I did note to him later that 4G was part of the opening screen in tiny letters, but unmistakable as a 4. He just shrugged, sticking to the ideas that 1: I was lied to and 2: my phone innards didn't match the screen.

Eventually he decided my phone wasn't going to give an answer, and lent me his, along with a special power source to keep it running while I used the 800 number to contact tech support. Since any time I touch a smart phone something weird happens, it was set on the counter in the kitchen. I decided to make my long hold times useful by doing dishes. Wiping more counters. Cleaning the stove. Washing the floor including kitchen, front entry, and hall down to the bathroom. And finally, washing the front door frame where "everybody" touches it without washing their hands first so it accumulates a lot of black on the white paint.

Yeah, the call lasted that long. I didn't get to the inside of the refrigerator though. Another day's job.

For the final 20 minutes or so, the first person I was talking to managed to connect my problem to a second person who actually called me on my own phone. Note that first person never hung up. So there were times when both of them, obviously unconnected to each other, were trying to talk to me at the same time. I stuck with the second one, the one who got my phone actually working, by somehow connecting to it from their end. Eventually Rich stepped in and talked to #1 to let her know why I wasn't answering her.

I took advantage of the situation to point out to both women that their website really should have some way to reach tech support via email or chat room or something for circumstances like mine. One agreed to pass it on.  The other acknowledged the issue without offering to kick it upstairs. Oh well.

Once my phone started working, woman #2 told me to shut it down, wait 60 seconds, and turn it on again. We needed to check that their ability to reach me wasn't some kind of fluke. OK so far. I was then instructed by woman #1 - the first indication of any kind of communication between them - that I was now to try to call somebody. OK, I called Rich. Since that phone was in use, I could hear it ringing right on the counter in front of me (totally weird: nobody's phone rings when you're on the line with somebody else!)  but obviously I didn't answer or break the connection in any way - as if I knew how.  Then woman #1 suggested I call somebody else. I called Steve, waking him up, but it worked.

Now woman #2 got back in the picture and informed me that they would be mailing me a new, free, SIM card. I should have it in 24 - 48 hours. Replace my current card with the new one. Did that mean I'd lose my directory? There's a whole lot of numbers on it that are nowhere else without a whole lot of work, and some I've forgotten I even need until I need them. Like the local post office, one of the calls I was trying to make that afternoon. Why the heck isn't my mail coming when I sent in the change of address card almost two weeks ago? Anyway, she insisted all my numbers would stay in my phone. I guess we'll find out. If needed, I can always switch between cards to locate all those existing numbers to find out what might not have transferred, because, ya know, I'm retired and have nothing else to do. Or something.

Woman #2 also informed me she was going to call my phone on Saturday to confirm it was still working. Nice! Thus started the discussion of time availability and time zones and Arizona not being on daylight savings time. Because, you know, I'm sure she wasn't anywhere in this country and needed that information. While she spoke lovely English, that accent was really thick and I'd had to slow her down several times to understand her. (I let her think that I thought it was because I'm a geezer and it had nothing to do with her. Like that happens all the time, right?)

*     *     *     *

But hey, phone is working. They'll send stuff, and call back to verify all's well around 5 PM tonight. Guess I don't need to shoot anybody after all, eh? Gonna head off to Walmart this morning for an hour's shopping before my car turns to a puddle in the sun. Or I do. 

Say, I wonder if e.e.cummings meant living in Arizona when he wrote that the world is puddle-wonderful. Too late to ask.

Grumpy - Day 3 Returning Home

I was just getting to sleep when I woke up with one of those "Linda Blair” leg cramps. It hits at the ankle and tries to twist your foot off. (Go watch "The Exorcist".) I’ve learned that it means there’s too little calcium in my diet - too late to fix that now. But sitting up and rubbing it for a while usually takes away the need to twist itself, so long as I’m careful not to stretch the muscles getting back into bed.

The noise levels outside were relentless. The walls here are paper thin. I heard everything outside, next door in either direction, and across the back wall since the rooms all join with no center isle, just outside doors. The upstairs residents were stomping around so late and started again so early I wondered if they might be vampires, a silly train of thought that led to other more realistic worries about possible safety issues.

I woke again at 2:30. Not because I was refreshed and the time zone change gave me an extra hour, but I was freezing. So was the dog! I decided to do two things. First, add a whole second layer of clothes and flip the two scratchy bath towels over the sheet - yes, seriously, no blanket in the room - so I could huddle under it, but before that I decided to see if I could nudge any heat from the wall unit. Somewhere all the words or symbols or whatever it started out with had been rubbed off or peeled off or…. When I'd arrived in the room, the temperature was comfortable so I hadn't bothered to mess with their system. There'd been other issues.

If there is a heat setting on the thing, I couldn’t find it even with the lights on. As soon as I crawled under the sheets/towels, Heather Too joined me, snuggling down around my shins, the one place I had no clothing in my room to cover. No, I wasn’t going to head back out to the car where the warm stuff was packed. Why not? By the time I figured out where the good stuff was I’d be wide awake, and the third day of the trip is always the tiredest. That’s why I plan for it to be the shortest.

As I tried to drift off, somebody had loud music going outside. Does nobody in management in this place supervise the guests at all? Then by 4:30 the pipes started making somebody’s-taking-a-bath noises. But by then I was in full cranky stubborn mode. I refused to get up until all the different noises combined together at… let’s see… 5:17. OK, surrender. Maybe an actual nap down the road today, eh?

Oh Gawd! Now I have to repack the whole danged suitcase, don’t I? I pack with jammies and toiletries as the first things I reach. It didn’t help last night (technically this morning) when I ransacked it for any possible warmer, loose second layer. At least there’s still enough warm water to freshen up a bit, make my hair controllable again. I checked out that tub last night and no safety bar, no non-slick bottom, no trust in my safety. Spits and spots it is then, as Mom would say.

But where did all these flies come from? 

Once I finally hit the road again, just a hair too early for McDonald's and not willing to wait for it, things started to get better. Put on the motel-doesn't-have-this-either list a coffee pot. The office would have coffee in another hour plus, but I damn sure wasn't waiting around for that. I had light, some classical music on the radio (for what only turned out to be the next 20 miles) and I was getting outta there ASAP! Who knows? A nap later? More caffeine? Just anywhere else but here! I poured my coffee fixins in a bottle of water, shook it, loaded the car, emptied the dog, and fled.

By the way, here's another "hack" I like when traveling. I save those paper coffee cups after the coffee is gone. Their next use is pouring gorp in, setting in the center cup folder, making it easily reachable to tip some into my mouth and put back without taking my eyes off the road. If something drops, pick it up later. Somewhere in the day there will be an accumulated napkin, or just a whole collection of such in the door pocket. One goes into the now empty cup and its lid goes back on. It's final use is to be in my hand when I'm walking the dog. Should she leave the kind of mess that needs picking up, off the lid goes, napkin surrounds the turds, they go into the cup, and cup with lid goes into any waste receptacle.

As soon as I hit Arizona there were lit signboards along the freeway, regularly warning of very heavy and slow traffic at mile #205. Expect long delays. After comparing those signs with standard signs giving miles to (insert next two towns here) and Flagstaff, I figured mile 205 must be just this side of Flag. I can navigate parts of the area, but I'd be stuck in the long lineup with everybody else. It was time for that alternate route we'd talked about several times but never taken. It cuts off at Winslow and angles southwest to Camp Verde. Consulting a map, I figured out what to look for and approximately how far between road changes, and exited.

After a bit, I was in beautiful country! I'd gone from blah to juniper forest to tall pines and high elevation. Sure, some places it was twisty mountain driving, but almost no traffic the whole way, just exquisite scenery and peace. I can see why parts of this are the go-to summer heat getaway for a lot of Phoenix folk. Unfortunately, much as I'd love to show Steve all of this, and regret not taking it on any earlier trip, it's bumpy as hell in places, and each bump reminded me of an opportunity lost. And no, very few places where it might have been possible to pull off the road safely for a shot or 85 so I could show him later.

I arrived home at 2:30, finding the expected and the unexpected. Rich was there as requested to help unload the car, turn back on the electricity (tricky breaker box cover) and assist with whatever. His spider bites are ugly as hell but he insists they are healing. He also showed me the two newest ones. 

You know how we say "it's a dry heat"? Yeah, not right now. There's finally a real  monsoon season after two years without, so humidity is up.  Yes, I packed one of those bandanas I've been wearing on my head up north while working. It would sure be useful now. I expect it will turn up somewhere by the time I've done the unpacking and all the other work. And there is a ton of other work. Little spills that were ignored because they might have been fairly clear or at least blended in with the surface when made have oxidized. Brown and black spots, splats, and splashes everywhere you look, a trail from kitchen to living room where somebody carries in food and beverage, somehow oxidized black instead of brown. All the predictable spots cover the kitchen floor, but unexpectedly cover the sink and new countertops as well. Fortunately, the new counters are new enough that nothing sticks, just wipes off easily. 

HOWEVER....

The sinks' bottoms are covered in black goo, not just a film but solid goo. It gets worse when Rich informs me that somebody was doing a sewer project in the neighborhood and "stuff" backed up in the plumbing. This includes the kitchen sinks, and one bathroom's sink and toilet. In addition, the pipes so "blessed" are somewhat plugged up. Three flushes later removes all but what's coating the inside of the toilet bowl and needs bleach and a  brush to clean. Rich managed to unplug the bathroom sink pipe so it finally drains. Somehow the black goo didn't quite reach the inside of that sink, unlike the kitchen. Not sure I'm ready to try the shower! Numerous paper towels remove the worst from the kitchen, followed by soap and scrubbing pads, soap and rinsing, followed by a final hands wash. Of course this gets done without my glasses because so much salt sweat has dripped on them that they're useless till cleaned themselves.

I'm relieved that there is enough travel food left that I can postpone much more kitchen cleaning. It turns out we left without cleaning the inside of the refrigerator. Besides, I promised Rich I'd treat him to supper at the fast food joint of his choice tonight. The microwave will have to do for anything else getting cooked because I still can't get through to the gas company to order getting that turned on again.  I'm OK with that. I'm finally ready to wait the 40 minutes or whatever it will be this time I start the call to get it scheduled. Something about unusually high call volume. Can't do it on the road. My phone is on the charger as I type. The weather keeps showers comfortable enough since ground temperature these days is hot and the pipes are shallow - or running through the attic. There is no such thing as cold water, unless it comes out of the fridge/freezer. So, gas can wait.

There were other unpleasant things to return home to. A couple of pictures fell off the wall. The tape holding them didn't survive the heat, as Rich insisted it would, and we don't use nails in a house not built with standard current building specifications, like 16" vertical stud centers. Or just all vertical studs!!!  Or even 2x4 studs! Apparently they weren't needed to space between concrete block walls and whatever board was used on the interior back in 1961. Arizona, doncha know.  One picture left glass in shards over a fairly wide area. The AC seems to be taking its own sweet time in cooling down the house. Of course, we made that even more difficult for it when we aired out the house after pulling out the 8 no-pest strips set out to kill multi-legged intruders. Before opening it up, inside was significantly cooler than outside. Outside was 106. Soon inside was as well. Adding ceiling fans helped for comfort. So did remembering to (blush) close that final window an hour after turning the AC on! At least we really got the house aired out, eh?

Then there was getting TV again. First, replace batteries in the remote. Try to remember how this remote works because it's different from Paul's Dish remote.  Then encourage the Hopper to do a start-up self check by again disconnecting power for 30 seconds. Then call Dish because all sorts of weird things are happening that I won't take 20 more column inches to describe (you're welcome) that even the tech on the line took 25 minutes to fix. After that, put in an extra timer request to record programs that are finally showing in the program guide half an hour ahead of when they start but with no "I'm going to be recorded" red dot. If you don't tell it to record tonight's showing, it won't, not till tomorrow when it all somehow magically straightens itself out and all the timers are again working. Welcome home!

Batteries also need to be replaced in the living room clock - done - and in one of the smoke alarms down the hall chirping cheerfully every thirty seconds. That battery needs to go on the shopping list. Other clocks get reset, stuff here and there plugged back in.

While we lost a few plants in the yard while we were gone, there were nice surprises as well. The rains have been enough to prompt the desert willow to bloom again! I never thought it bloomed more than once in spring. My San Marcos hibiscus is loaded with blooms, the Mexican bird of paradise likewise, and the ocotillos  are positively bushy-looking with all the leaves. I'll have to spend more time out there checking things out, but I'll wait till it's cooler. 

Like November.

I'm sure I'll be ready to go outside again by November.

Whimsy - Day 2 Returning Home

My evening didn’t stop being a challenge after I quit writing my post last night. I have a particular way of dealing with pills when I travel. Experience has shown me that those plastic pry-up case lids on a week's supply of pills don’t always need my help to open. The resulting chaos is not to be repeated. So what I do is lay out piles of pills morning pills on the table, then put each day's worth in a little zip lock bag. Those are available online, usually under jewelry supplies, though drug dealers know them well too. That’s one reason I go the extra cost to get them in 4 mil weight. Plus, they hold up to using them multiple times with no problems. PM pills get the same treatment, and magic markers label each for time of day. Than all the AM pills go in one standard sandwich baggie and the PM ones get their own. So easy to use and they take up so little space that way.

Obviously they are among the last things packed before I head out the door. But while in my room last night, a quick hunt didn’t produce them where I thought I should have packed them. I even called Steve, asking did I leave them behind? (Not a total tragedy, but then I’d have to go dig the box of all the bottles of pills out of the car and do the routine twice every day! There were enough of everything in that box of bottles to last me until Steve flew down if I had to do it that way.) Should I give up or just look harder? Steve checked, and no, I hadn’t left them behind. Time to rack the brain. Once calmer, I recalled putting them somewhere I was sure would be taken into the motel at the end of every day. Since they weren’t in my suitcase….

I had it! They were in the bottom of the bag of dog supplies! Whew!  Hey, go ahead and laugh. It worked! All the plan needed was a brain. All the brain needed was less stress. Possible some sleep, but the pills had to come before sleep, so....

We left the motel just a little later in the morning than yesterday. I’d expected it to be drier, but it was just as muggy, though even warmer, than the morning before.

I knew which way to turn out of the motel parking lot to hit the turnipke. Unfortunately, the signs gave me a choice of lanes to pick, totally divergent, to get to Wichita. One said take the right lane to go eastbound to Wichita. The other lane was bore a sign to use it to go westbound  to Wichita. Need I mention that Wichita was south from there? (Is it just me or is there something about Kansas?) Good there was nearly no traffic that early because I had to stop dead in my lane to decide which wrong direction I wanted to take! Eenie, meenie, miney... I just took the firwst turn and it was the only one actually leading to the turnpike. After I approached the tollbooth to grab my ticket, the lane divided in two and this time the signs simply said “Wichita” and “Kansas City”. I guess somebody finally figured out that east and west weren’t helpful.

It can get weird when you’re out driving in the wee hours. It starts with only being able to see lane stripes, lit road signs and the occasional set of head or taillights. Eventually you get two different levels of black to chose between for some idea of what’s happening around you, one for the road and sky, the other for the deep shadows along the road which gradually identify themselves as trees or whatever. Occasionally your lights manage to elicit a pair of glows from the eyes of a roadside deer, but that was yesterday! They don’t seem to occupy spaces along the Kansas turnpike. Skyward, this morning there was a bright planet just over both the east and west horizon, and a full moon now low in the west.

Vision is even more complicated when the jacked-up pickup pulls in behind you with four high beams, two over two, all bouncing off your rearview mirror into your eyes. At that point everything else disappears. I always react by slowing down. It’s my reaction to all tailgaters, day or night. They never get me speeding up. Eventually they find an opportunity, however unsafe, to pull out and go bother some other motorist.

Two shades of black eventually resolved to a hint of a glow on the horizon. Surely that’s not dawn breaking, right? It’s the wrong direction. Hey, Ii’s Wichita! By the time I’m actually in the city, the sky overhead has resolved into a deep blue, and continued lightening from there.

Between Emporia and the end of the turnpike there are three zones to pull in to without exiting where you can get gas, food, and use the facilities.They are between the two sets of lanes of the turnpike, where you can enter and exit from either direction. Just don't get confused! The final one, and only one left after El Dorado,  shows a bright pair of golden arches. Breakfast! In the short time between pulling in and parking with my sandwich, I noticed a particular cloud, formerly invisible as it had been totally dark when I'd passed under it. Most of it still was dark grey and flat as if it were a budding thunderhead. One spot rose straight up from the top in a column, high enough it was lit up by a sun not yet over my horizon.

I think some times that wind currents must have a sense of humor, a whimsy if you will. In the moment I first noticed the clouds, the lit top was a perfect rendition of a scruffy dog head. No imagination needed. After unwrapping my sandwich and taking my first bite, it had changed.  Still the only part lit, the top part had morphed into a man’s head. From the bottom up, there was a jutting chin with a pointed beard, a smiling mouth as if reveling in the first rays of the sun, a bulbous nose in front of a high cheekbone, a heavy brow over a deep-set eye, and hair that was pulled off the forehead into a knot on the top of the head. Before I finished my sandwich, it was just another messy cloud again.

Whimsy!

By the time I rolled across the border to Oklahoma around 7, the sun was fully up. The wispy clouds in front of me were now white, having first been noticeable as pink, then later yellow,  the pink in turn gracing the low western clouds.

The rest of my day was pretty much same-old, same-old. Only now the roads were much bumpier. It continues through Oklahoma and the Texas panhandle. Apparently New Mexico has had some recent road construction, as there is a noticeable smoothing of the pavement. Steve will be happy to hear that flying down is by far the best choice for his worsening back! I, on the other hand, am enjoying myself, even though well aware of the bumps. But my back is fine. It's just that Steve has gotten me aware of what each bump would cost him in pain. Personally, I don't worry about a bump unless it threatens to break an axle, something that's never happened to me. There was a pothole years ago that bent my tire rim and cost me a flat, but....

I took the “mandatory” stop at the Cherokee Trading Post, and made a few small purchases after finding out that what really caught my eye was not coming along with me at its $300 price tag. Regardless, it was a quick stop since the heat was rising and the dog had to stay in the car.

I did manage finally to find a few public radio stations on the way, lightening the miles. As the freeway descended Sandia Mountain into Albuquerque, I was glad I wasn’t heading uphill, aka out of downtown in rush hour. A few sets of flashing lights indicated the start of what looked like about 8 miles of stop and… yep, just sit. We all drove by them heading towards the city center at a steady 65.

Before hitting the motel I stopped for a supper sandwich a couple blocks away. Drive through, of course, since that’s the only way I didn’t have to wear a mask. New Mexico is requiring them everywhere inside again, and people are respecting it. As I exited, traffic on the street was stopped for a light. As it changed, cars started moving again, except the guy in the grey truck just back from where I was. He sat. So, figuring he meant to, I pulled out, drove the three car lengths to the corner for a right turn to head back to the motel. As soon as I entered the street, he honked steadily at  me until past where I turned off.

I didn’t think more of it. I just figured it was mistaken communication. Staying put a few extra seconds is no big deal and it’s what I’ve both done and seen done when letting another car out into traffic. At the motel, I donned my mask, went in and registered, and came back out… just to find the same grey truck in their parking lot behind my car, front window rolled down, and the driver yelling at me. 

“You pulled out in front of me.” Really, he’s inconvenienced for two seconds and he follows me around the 4 blocks it took to get back to the motel, then waited in the parking lot while I checked in, just to accost me?

“Wow, you followed me all this way to tell  me that?”

“You pulled out in front of me.”

“You were stopped.”

“No I wasn’t. You pulled out in front of me.”

"Yes you were."

"You pulled out in front of me."

Well... I’m glad you were paying attention.”

He gave up on me then and backed out of the parking lot. I could have meant my last comment different ways, including a sarcastic comment on his not paying attention when the light changed and starting up with the other traffic, but, hey, why push it with a nasty tone? As I was still wearing my mask, having just left the office, he couldn't see facial expressions, so who knew what he thought he was reacting to?

The motel gets one thing right. The bed is a normal low height. I can sit in it rather than climb up. Somehow there must be a secret motel code that requires that they make up for beds you have to climb up into by adding extra pillows you can’t possibly need. This one only has two of them! Of course the sheet and blanket are pulled tight and tucked in so hard I need a shovel to dig my way under them!

Wait! What blanket?

Incidentally, this post will also be put online later after I get home. After getting the wi-fi code at this motel, I was offered a choice between paying $6 for the privilege (stop by with your card), or… well, the free option wasn’t clickable. If you happened to send an important email, we’re both SOL for another 24 hours. But hey, don’t bother trying to figure it out. The fact that you’re reading this means I connected with wi-fi again. At home. Safe.

Bittersweet - Day 1 Returning Home

 Nature called and woke me at 3.  That’s AM. Lately I wake up at 4 am, so I just figured I’d go back to sleep after. Of course Heather Too needed to go outside as well. And equally of course, she got as far as the first blades of grass, verified that they were indeed wet and cold, and turned right around and came back in. I wasn’t going to bother to argue with her, just climbed back in bed.

Did I sleep? Of course not. While the car was mostly packed, it still needed our last bits of stuff  still in use before we left.Toothbrush, dog dishes once emptied, a bag of dirty clothes from the night before, etc. It was al organized, but those final touches were just enough to keep me awake. I know better than to argue with my awakened self.

We’d had company the day before, final bonfire of the summer, at least for me. Steve may have more until his plane leaves. One expected guest couldn’t make it, and I had a sizable box of videos - yes, VHS - that now needed to be dropped off with her on the way down.  I’d checked out the map already so I knew the way to her house, and we’d discussed my timing before she’d need to leave for work. I decided to be just a bit later, while still on time, so I could collect a farewell hug from my son before he slipped out the door to go to work. Steve of course stayed up, not just from his sleep patterns but to make sure I didn’t sleep past 4 and give me his hug too.

Tricky me, once time to get in the car, I put a leash on Heather Too and dragged her into the (cold, wet) grass in the front yard along the driveway and she was finally persuaded she might as well make the most of the opportunity. At last! I firmly believe in the saying "an empty dog is a good dog!"

5 AM is still full on dark, but the full moon was still up and the streetlights on. We were rolling! That good mood lasted about 4 miles down the road. I suddenly realized I wanted to say bye-for-now emotionally to the area as I drove through, but it was still to dark to see more than a couple feet past the shoulder, so I pretty much had to imagine what I was driving past. That was the part which made it bittersweet. That plus heading down earlier than I wanted, before my self-assigned tasks were complete, fully aware of the regrowth in many of the places I’d worked on that I’d have to tackle again next year. I hope the stump killer, used after the process started, would be successful in killing where it was used, and could complete the job next year.

While I was mulling all this over, pretty much wallowing for the first 4 miles down the road, I did manage to see a doe start out into my lane from the shoulder and suddenly turn around and head back into the grass and bushes. Now that’s a good way to start a trip! Forget the dismals and just drive, girl. Only something like 675 miles to go today.

The sun was up, drifting between clouds, when I arrived at my first stop, dropping off the videos. There I got my best hug of the day, and that’s after the first two pretty good ones at home. Just for good  measure, we made it two nice long ones before we both had to be on our way for our different days.

By the time I left the cities behind and was out in the country again, rolling on cruise control down I 35, it had warmed up enough I could stop defogging the windshield. Very humid start to the day.

It only took me twelve hours to clear the Kansas turnpike at El Dorado. There were a couple gas stops, a coffee (2nd cup) stop, and a few rest stops with dog walking and re-watering. Oh yeah, one McDonalds ice cream cone mid afternoon as a pick-me-up. Didn’t need a nap, so I’ll probably hit the hay early. This means it doesn’t really matter that the only TV control that works is the on/off, and what’s on possibly appeals to fairly slow teenagers. Possibly. Not only that but the wifi comes with a warning that I have to agree to all their terms and conditions and even after that it’s still just not secure. So I’m not going online to check weather, emails, and what not. I can write this on my internal word processing software rather than the blogs, and paste it in tomorrow.  (Note: delays until after home and unpacked.)

These were not the first of the frustrations. My car decided to wait until I was on the turnpike and had just passed the last possible place to get gas before lighting up the symbol that says “Feed me or else!” The exit to town was still a ways off but as soon as I saw the El Dorado exit I took it.  However…

My map search of the day before showed a heavy commercial zone immediately after getting off and paying your toll. This road led through  lots of countryside. Eventually there was a school. A few houses. Another school. Wooded lots and fields. Finally, now that I’m trying not to panic, there’s a Caseys up ahead. Cool - kill two birds. Gas up and get info. Turns out what the map didn’t show, and the signs didn’t make clear, possibly because I was busy changing lanes and speeds with construction zones several times, is that there are actually two exits for El Dorado. I needed the second one. So I follow directions through town to my turn and another two miles further to the motel. I know, because it was on the map (how trusting!) that I’ll pass a Burger King just before I reach the motel, and there’s a McDonalds on the other side of the street if I’ve gone too far. So first thing I pass is the Micky D’s on my side just before the motel, and the Burger King is up and across where the McDonald's is supposed to be.

Sigh….

Good thing I brought a book. Not the kindle, but a real, hard copy paperback book. The dog is already bored enough that after sleeping all but about an hour of the ride down, and then only to look out the window or take a brief walk, she’s curled up on the footstool that comes with the chair I’m sitting in to write this. When you first enter the room, it looks cozy, tucked back in the corner with a cushion in the back. Of course the cushion is so deep there’s only enough seat left to perch on, so that had to go away. The the footstool is a bit too high and too flat, nothing like a comfy recliner, so my feet instead are on the floor. The dog gets the footstool.

I’m pretty sure she can hop up on the always-too-high-platform bed in the room that seems to be an inescapable fad in the motel industry these days.  I’m willing to bet even at that height it’s still not enough to discourage any, say, bedbugs that might inhabit the room. After all, I’ve seen them crawling across the ceiling when we were infested back when! But it’s enough to discourage me. I can't wait to get back home to a properly low bed again.

There was a recent walkabout with the dog. It produced even better results than the expected ones. First, I ran into the lady from the front desk, and she fixed the TV! There’s a little lump of a doohickey on the end of a tiny wire that is the  connection to Cox. It had fallen behind the desk the TV sits on. Now that it’s on said desk, I can watch something different than whatever that awful program was.

Oh, and we had musical accompaniment on our walkabout. Cicadas. The grassy dog area is huge. and as we had a long walk, I pinpointed where the sound came from. It’s across the grassy area, over the trucker’s parking lot, across the street and other field and in a thick line of trees! Even with the wind coming from behind me and toward them, they were L.O.U.D!

But hey, I was up early, so forget the TV. Snooze time, early start tomorrow.

Waiting For Somebody Else To Die...

...So You Can Get Your Turn At An ICU Bed. So you can likely die there too. Taking somebody else's spot, somebody who's waiting for you to die also. 

You might think of this as a moral dilemma. But you'd have to be a certain kind of moral person in the first place. Maybe there's a tightrope you can mentally walk, where it's OK to wait for somebody else to die so you can get your turn, so long as you sort of hope that they don't die. 

Sort of. Because of course  you really really  hope you can get your own turn for the best care and treatment, and you know the only way a bed clears up for you is by somebody dying. The ones who don't quite die don't count. They are going to be taking up their ICU bed for weeks or months, and even after they improve are likely going to go on for months or longer of half-living, their bodies ravaged by all the effects of long covid, the blood clots, the mental fog, the gasping for oxygen that there's never quite enough of. 

So you gotta hope somebody dies quickly. No prolonging agony because that wouldn't be merciful - for them or for you. Because  by this time, for you, there's going to be a much-too-long time where you can wonder, as you search for each breath,  why your supreme diety left you - yes, wonderful, faithful, observant you - in this struggling state, when obviously you deserve that bed, where you're not sure that anonymous stranger does. Were they as wonderful as you? As faithful to your deity? As observant of the holy laws? As trusting in your earned place at the head of whatever line you need to be head of? Why, such a long wait might even lead to doubt, and why would your deity tempt you that way?

Speaking of mercy, how much are you showing to all those medical people who have to tend those unending lines of people who are showing up, waiting for the next bed to open for their turn in it, knowing most of them are going to die also, those medical personnel who have to go home night after night unable to save lives as they were trained, burnt out and still facing the endless streams of you coming through their doors? They daily have to face the process of triage, a terrible burden on those whose only wish is to heal. You could have chosen not to be here!

You've been scared. First, all those wicked people trying to get you to believe that there's some horrible new disease out there, created just to kill you, but it's only a hoax because those awful people have  for sure some evil purpose either to scare you in order to somehow control you, or perhaps even kill you if - just maybe if - it's not all a hoax.

Then there's some demoniacal vaccine developed almost miraculously, but you know that's not safe. You can wait and make sure it's OK first, but you're sure it'll sterilize your men, abort your babies, embed microchips in your body because somehow your cell phones aren't already tracking your movements to whatever extent somebody might want to do that because... you are somehow more important than your 300 million fellows are to be tracked and monitored? Besides, needles are scary.

You watch as people around you get sick - or so they're told - and yet they're just not that sick. A sniffle, an ache, even nothing at all, and they're told to stay home, miss work, miss out on fun, and all for nothing much at all. Why should you be bothered with something that little? You've had colds before. Everybody gets them. No biggie. Only the old and week die off, and they do that anyway from the flu, so it's just their time, right? Some people who've been hiding other illnesses get sick to, some of those die, and isn't that just culling the herd? You hear that those people get sicker than your people, and doesn't that just mean they are a weaker kind of person and that means your people are better?

The news keeps changing. Facts and truth should always be a stable thing, unchanging, for anything else is a pack of lies. Masks? First they say no, then they try to make you wear them. Which is the lie? They can be uncomfortable so why lose that freedom to go without them because it's your deity-given right to do whatever you please and this nation was founded under (your choice of favorite deity here), so just another reason to avoid wearing a mask. You won't get sick anyway, because it's still just a cold except for those weaker folks.

You haven't gotten to the point of thinking about how you can spread it to all those others without even realizing you're sick. You haven't accepted that it's changing, getting worse, because, remember now, truth doesn't change. Even if you're "forced" to wear a token mask because some bully wants to take away your freedom, you can't breathe "enough" so it's pulled off your nose. Surely that doesn't do any harm? Surely if you can be safe being six feet away from the next person, doesn't that really mean just 3 feet? And only if they're coughing? And never never ever do they mean your good friends, your fellow church-going buddies, your family who needs to attend that wedding, funeral, party, rally, concert....

Now after all that, now that you're really truly "likely", as they say, and really truly need that already filled ICU bed, all you can do is wait and hope it opens up soon. For you. Because it's "your turn" now. You deserve it and that means yesterday.

I am willing to bet that, when you and  hundreds of thousands of your fellows are lined up waiting for "your" bed to open up, your thoughts are not going to be centered on how you could have avoided getting here. Or how you could have avoided assisting all these others in getting here with you. And I bet you also won't understand just why it is, with so many patients waiting and so few staffed beds available, that the people jumping to the head of the line aren't going to be those who chose to be here, but those who tried to do all they could to avoid getting here. Because that's where we're heading. Judgement calls are going to have to be made. Lines are going to have to be drawn. Rulings are already being made. That person in a terrible accident might be chosen ahead of you and you won't understand how we got to this place. That child who, for a little while yet, still isn't eligible  to be vaccinated and hasn't made the choice to be here as you have, might get pushed to the head of the line.

And you just won't understand it. This was your "Freedumb." But....

Bye bye.

A Difference Of Perspective

Afganistan's news has brought back a memory from a few months back. The prompting visual is of an Afganistan parent passing a baby over a wall at the Kabul airport to a Marine who accepted the child. No clue what happened after, and that's the triggering part.

The conversation in memory harkens back to our southern border, another news shot of a couple of young children being dropped over the wall onto American soil. The woman I was speaking to saw it as a horrible thing to do, proof of the lack of caring by the parent(s) of the children, proof that these were people whom we didn't want to have in our country.

After reflecting for a minute, not having formed an opinion yet, I came at it another way. Parents pretty universally do love their children and want what is best for them. I recognized how traumatizing the event could be for the children, being separated from family that way. But I suggested that the woman I was speaking with, while fully recognizing the tragedy of that act, try to imagine how awful their lives must be in order for that to seem like a good idea. Not knowing what's happening to your young children is terrible. What in their lives is so much worse that this is better? What would it take for her to resort to the same action?

A Game For The Grandkids

We had two granddaughters visit  us Sunday. At 5 and 7, they have abundant energy. Since we're into our 70s, that can become wearing. There are no toys here for kids, and adult conversations don't really appeal to them. While we had a great chat with their Mom (Daddy had to work), they needed something to keep them busy for a bit. There would be a bonfire and weenie roast shortly, but there was still time to kill.

With all the yard work I've been doing this summer, there are things still very much not getting done. At least one of those things is much better for short bodies stooping over than for mine. I came up with a plan. I could let them do a chore that - hopefully - would be fun for them, and they could have a chance to earn some spending money. I happened to have a whole bunch of quarters I'd saved for the laundromat when I still thought the basement steps would be too much for me. Turns out I can navigate the stairs down to Paul's washer and dryer, and the quarters have been untouched.

We also had a pair of plastic ice cream buckets with handles, just a perfect size for small arms and hands to fill and carry around. There is also an apple tree that has been dropping buggy apples all over since it hadn't gotten sprayed in time to prevent the infestation... for the last several years. In fact, the decision has been made to take the tree down since there is no interest in continuing to prune and spray as needed in order to get a harvestable crop.

I took the girls outside, gave each a bucket, pointed out the apples and the compost pile (our former fish pond) where they needed to be tossed or dumped. Find your fun however you like so long as they go in. For each bucket that is filled, with me as the decider on how full is full, and emptied into the old pond, I would pay $2.00.

Both girls were interested. The older one took great pride in filling her bucket quickly, over and over. She also had enough arithmetic skill to keep a correct count, both in buckets and dollars. The younger one had a few reservations about rotten apples, not to mention the occasional bug, but fortunately there were only a very few of each. She also had interesting ideas about how full her bucket needed to be to be declared full. Her big sister helped insist the level needed to be higher than halfway. Then higher than 3/4 way. Eventually I stepped in and "discovered" a subtly collected pile of apples to be picked up by the younger one, and big sister was happy enough with her own skill and ability to spot them to accept her sister getting an occasional assist.

By the time the job was over, older sister dumped 7 buckets and her sister 3. Good thing I'd counted my quarter collection the day before and checked for a few dollar bills as well! It lasted just as long as the apples did, plus 3 bills. Older sister thinks she wants to buy another doll in a particular brand that offers several to collect. Mom says their prices start within her new budget. Younger sister had no idea how to spend hers, but was happy with just having some money of her own to spend. Fortunately she was also hazy on how much more her sister earned than she had, just happy that she hadn't had to work as hard as big sister. Each got their proceeds in a ziploc bag which went to Mommy's purse for safekeeping until it was time to spend it.

Now the question is: with the tree coming down, what are we going to do next year? What have I started?

Oh, and as I passed the apple tree this morning on my way to finishing yard cleanup from last week's yard work, I noticed we'd had a wind yesterday. While there are still several bushels worth on the tree, the ground was again littered with windfall buggy apples. Guess they'll stay there. I'm out of quarters and no more grandkids are due who might like to pick them up. I might see if a certain 3-year-old great-grand kid wants to practice throwing them pondwards this weekend. Hmm? After she gets over being shy around us again, of course. I'm pretty sure she can't hit any windows.... Well, not hard anyway.