Closure

First, a commercial interlude. I’ve been watching Hulu late at night, streaming Fargo. Interesting commercials come on, then. One of them is about Peyronie’s Disease. In the commercial, men are holding up carrots, bananas, and cucumbers. The fruit and vegetables look straight, but the men then turn them to reveal sharp curves. A voiceover says something like, “Does your erection have an unusual curve or bump that it didn’t use to have? Your erections shouldn’t hurt.”

It’s eye-opening.

I never thought about what my erection looked like. Naturally, this commercial made me wonder. Also, my erections never hurt. It’s scary, though. Nothing is safe.

The things I learn from commercials. Maybe I should watch less television. (Sure, that’s the answer.) I pulled out my computer (did you think I was going to put another noun there?) and googled PD to confirm it existed.

It does.

Okay, on to the main event.

I’m a Do-It-Yourselfer.

I’m not a very good one.

Whether it’s writing a computer program or a novel, fixing a car or a wall, painting a house or building a computer — which are things I’ve done — I usually achieve decent results, but it’s a messy process.

I have a few reasons that I think is behind all this.

  1. I’m self taught, but I’m not a very good teacher.
  2. I’m an impatient person.
  3. Whenever I asked for help as a child, Mom told me, “Figure it out.” Like most moms, she thought I was smarter and more capable than I really am. I started believing her.

I was painting our kitchen when I broke my arm in July. Painting the kitchen can be violent, can’t it? What transpired is that our kitchen window is five feet wide and four feet tall. The window looks over the front proch.

A blind was installed for privacy, light, and all that. The blind is one of those that can be pulled up by a cord on one end, or let down by a different cord on the other end. I think the official name is something screwy, like two-way blinds. I don’t know. Look it up.

The thing is, when I re-installed the blinds with my wife’s help after painting the kitchen, one end didn’t get correctly placed in the bracket. Whenever you pulled the cord to raise and lower the blind on that end, the blind bent down. That irritated me. Thus, “I will fix!” I decided.

Climbing onto the counter, I removed the blind and discovered that the brackets weren’t properly aligned. Easy fix, yah? Off I went for the appropriate screw driver to loosen and adjust the brackets. Except, I couldn’t turn the damn screws. They…WOULD…NOT…TURN. But I’d reinstalled the brackets. If I screwed them in, I should be strong enough to screw them out.

Damn it. With rising irritation, I turned to jump down off the counter to get a better tool. When I did, I caught my foot on the counter, setting into motion the awkward crash that broke the bones in my arm and twisted my hand up against my arm, sandwiching it between arm and body.

After that it was pain, hospital, splint, recovering, therapy…

Here we are, three months later. That damn blind was still down. It was driving me crazy.

My wife and I had talked about asking someone to put it up or hiring someone. Neither had happened. She was out yesterday, socially responsibly visiting friends (masks-distance-outside on a private deck). I walked into the kitchen and saw that big window and the brackets where the blind should be installed.

Time to fix it, I decided.

First, a pep talk.

One, I had to be careful. If I fell and hurt myself, I should just face up to it and end my life, because my wife would probably end it for me.

Two, I had to be careful, because I didn’t want to get hurt. I was nervous, which didn’t help, because…what if I fell? I’d never live it down. (I imagined going to the Emergency Room. “You again?” they would exclaim. “What did you do THIS time?” It’s weird that I imagined that. I’ve only been there once in the fifteen years that we’ve lived here.)

So, I told myself, BE CAREFUL. Take your time. Stay in the moment. FOCUS, fool.

I did. The brackets were adjusted and the blind reinstalled. It took about fifteen minutes.

I showed it to my wife when she returned home.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

“Just put on my splint, got the tools, climbed up there and did it.”

“Did you use a chair to get up and down?”

“Of course. I’m a professional.”

“Were you nervous?”

I smiled. “What do you think?”

It was very satisfying to fix the blind. I believe they call it closure.

The New Reads

This week’s reading list:

The Dome by Suzanne Craig-Whytock

The Memory Police by Yōko Ogawa

A Death of No Importance by Mariah Fredericks

Golden Son by Pierce Brown

Great to have a new stack of books to occupy me. All are fiction. Now to carve some time to read them! I think I can, as I’ve received my ballot and will voting this week, freeing me from researching issues. (We vote by mail in Oregon; that’s the way it’s done.) Three of the books are from the library books, so the clock is running, but the one that isn’t a library book, The Dome, is calling me. I’ll begin there. Its premise sounds enticing and it’s a smaller book. After the giant Tombland last week (eight hundred pages), I want something smaller.

Tuesday’s Trivia

Politics and books took over my bandwidth last week.

  1. Books are such time thieves. Writing them takes time, energy, and attention. With energy, I’m referring to intellectual, emotional, and physical energy. The effort absorbs everything. Don’t know if that’s true for other writers, but this is how it is for me.
  2. Reading books also sucks away time and energy. I read a C.J. Sanson novel last week, Tombland. Tombland isn’t a small novel, registering at eight hundred packed pages. The latest in the Matthew Shardlake series, like the other novels, I was compelled to read, almost as if I’d been cursed. The mystery is relatively thin but that is incidental to the history, period, and characters. His voice is authentic, and the characters are alive and shifting. You feel it all.
  3. But reading that book meant I was doing almost nothing else. It was that consuming. I was also trying to read it to return it to the library. It was due 10/22, but I had other books on hold. My wife also had library books to return (The Plover, and The House in the Cerulean Sea). (She’d read Tombland before me.) So I was pushing to finish to turn the books in, limiting our library visits and its potential COVID-19 exposure. They do a good job at the library, but exposure is exposure, right? Right. After returning Tombland, I returned home and had an email from the library system: they’d extended Tombland for me. Nice of them but unnecessary.
  4. I recommend Tombland. This particular novel swirled around murders in Norfolk in 1549. Somerset was the Lord Protector for the young king. It being England and that era, politics around rights for the common people the Kett Rebellion, differences in the church (Protestants vs. Catholics), power struggles among lords and ladies (including Edward’s sisters), and enclosures – fencing off common land that set aside for animal crazy. All the sinister and cynical conniving among the wealthy to increase their power and wealth, and their attitude toward the lower classes, and the subservience expected from the upper classes strikes amazing similarities to what’s happening in the United States in this century.
  5. Tombland was a fresh reminder of what England endured and how they prevailed and developed as a democracy. Turmoil and bloodshed are occurring in the U.S., but not at the levels seen in England at that time. I want to add, yet. It may come to that.
  6. The monstrous poverty and homelessness of the era also brought out sharp comparisons to here and now in America. It provided rich fodder for heavy thinking.
  7. Of course, reading a book that I enjoy helps inform the novel that I’m writing. Nothing I read made me want to tear up my manuscript (or delete it) or start anew. It did inspire nuances and new flavors to fold into the blend, and of course, fuel up the need to sit down and write.
  8. The skunk and I (and my wife) continue our non-violent confrontation. I don’t want the skunk to go under the house to live; the skunk wants to. I’m not a violent person, and love animals. Watching the skunk (and studying it through the window as it emerges at night) gives more appreciation to who it is. Yet, I know it’s damaging our foundation, insulation, and weather barrier. I empathize with the little critter, though. It’s a tough life out there, and it’s only trying to exist as I’m trying to exist. It certainly has the same rights as me.
  9. I blame some of my sympathy to the skunk to the Netflix documentary, My Octopus Teacher. A wonderful love story, it revealed standard details the octopus and its tough existence. Naturally, after watching it, I transferred the octopus’ struggles to ‘my’ skunk. There is a difference between the octopus and skunk: the octopus isn’t invading ‘my’ territory. Anyone can argue, the skunks were there first, and that I’m the trespasser. I know; that doesn’t make my job dealing with the skunk any easier.

An Abundance of Caution

  1. In headline news, COVID-19 has mostly been impersonal. There are always anecdotal stories. Some of those are about non-believers who turned out to be carriers or were involved in a superspreader event. They now regret calling the novel coronavirus a hoax and not taking action, as family members and friends actually sickened and died, just as they were warned, or, they experienced serious health problems themselves. That’s what it sometimes takes to open people’s eyes.
  2. Herd immunity was given another boost via the Barrington Project. Interesting idea but when you look at the numbers involved and the impact, it’s a scary idea. Pursue herd immunity and you’ll endure higher hospitalizations, packed ICUs, and higher death rates. In theory, your economy will be better and life will be more ‘normal’.
  3. Want to talk about Sweden? Go ahead. I’ve already checked them out. Their mortality rate is fifth highest in the world, behind Spain, the US, UK, and Italy.
  4. States, of course, are interested in herd immunity, especially those states where COVID-19 is already surging. This includes Idaho and South Dakota. South Dakota was home to several superspreader events and took little to no actions. Now COVID-19 is raging across the state.
  5. Florida, naturally, is also interested in herd immunity. They’re embracing that science after defying all other science.
  6. Meanwhile, we’ve had a few big names contract COVID-19 and die. Now more people in the rich, powerful, and famous circles are testing positive. We’ve already had Donald Trump, his wife, son Barron, and twenty-five other people (or more – I quit counting) associated with a WH event. This doesn’t include the Secret Service agents protecting the POTUS and family; they don’t tell how many of them get sick. But today brings news that Kamala Harris is canceling some events because an aide and another associated with her campaign tested positive. So did Alabama coach Nick Saban, along with Atlanta Falcons staff.
  7. Several U.S. Senators and a few mayors have tested positive. The senators usually make news because they’re Republican and refuse to either notify others, quarantine, or wear a mask. I guess a few of them require their loved ones and family to contract the illness and suffer before they’ll be more serious about it.
  8. The Atlanta Falcons news comes on top of other NFL COVID-19 news. Cam Newton, Patriots QB, has ended his COVID-19 quarantine. The Tenn. Titans won their first game back after being off for sixteen days due to dozens testing positive in the Titans org.
  9. “An abundance of caution” is the NFL’s new tagline this year. Whenever something COVID-19 related is announced, the the press release usually has the phrase “an abundance of caution” in it. That includes two stories today. One that the Falcons have closed their facility after at least one, but maybe four, have tested positive. Two, Odell Beckham, Jr, a Cleveland Browns wide receiver, was sent home with an unspecified illness “out of an abundance of caution”.
  10. COVID-19 is havoc on the NFL’s schedule, of course. After creating and promoting Thursday Night Football, there’s no Thursday Night Football this week. That game was moved to Sunday. Meanwhile, we did have the standard Monday Night Football, along with Tuesday Night Football this week. They’re also talking about adding an eighteenth week to the regular season.
  11. One of the big headlines today is that Europe’s surge of daily new cases are now higher than the United States. The UK and EU are talking lockdown again. Some are speculating this is the second wave. Out of an abundance of caution, we’re stocking up on food and supplies, continuing to wear our masks, and social-distance. Of course, we have that privilege. Too sadly, there are many in society who don’t.

Friday Fragments

  1. People tell me how skinny I’ve become. Interesting, because I weigh just seven pounds less than two years ago. What I’ve pieced together, based on history and what doctors told me, is that my prostrate gland had become severely enlarged. It blocked my bladder, eventually causing a medical emergency because I couldn’t void myself. My little old one- hundred ml bladder had eleven hundred ml of piss in it, according to the staff when I arrived that morning in the ER. According to my doc when he recounted it later, I was grossly distended. So, no, it wasn’t weight; I was full of piss. Once that was all relieved, and my prostate has shrunk some, my organs are no longer displaced, and no longer have an abdomen that sticks out like a car bumper.
  2. You can read about my 2019 troubles in Peckerville here.
  3. My prostate/bladder experience reaffirmed the need to not look at everyone through the same lenses. They may look overweight, but it could be something else completely.
  4. I’m also looking at my food differently. I used to consider sugars, fat, and content whenever I made a food selection. We’ve moved sharply toward organic and natural food in the past fifteen years. I was diagnosed with high blood pressure (hypertension) last year. I’m on meds for it. I now check sodium content in food and keep it down. I’m staggered by how much sodium is used in modern processed food. It’s eye opening, and not in a good way. The Trader Joe’s foods that I used to enjoy are completely unacceptable.
  5. Speaking of looking at things differently, the neighbor’s cat was almost done in by a car the other day, right before my eyes. Mimi, a gorgeous little grey and white kitty, was sitting on the curb across the street. A pedestrian was chatting with her. He later said, though, another cat was distracting Mimi. A car came rushing up the street. Mimi decided then to cross.
  6. Cats don’t view the world as we do. They have a harder time discerning a car forty feet away, traveling at a speed of thirty miles per hour, coming at them.
  7. The car brakes to a halt with a sharp screech of tires. Mimi appears safe. She streaks home. All are concerned. I knock on the neighbor’s door and tell her what happened and where Mimi went. I haven’t seen Mimi or neighbor since. It worries me, but I think if something bad happened, my neighbor would come and tell me. That’s how she is.
  8. We were out shopping Tuesday. Had to renew the car registration in Medford, so we thought we’d shop and gas up the car at the same time. All went well but I realized, I don’t really miss people during this pandemic/stay-at-home era. I miss my routines. Yes, I miss having beers with friends or going dancing, and traveling, but it’s not about missing the people as much as doing things other than what I’m doing. I’ve always known I’m not a social person. I don’t know how much of this to assign to what, personality wise. In other words, how much is due to my genetic makeup, and how much of it is a socialization thingy?
  9. We’re seriously processing moving out of state, probably heading east. Well, come on, we live in Oregon; we can’t go south to California. Going north to Washington has been addressed, but it doesn’t seem feasible.
  10. Looking at house photos online to fill in an idea of what housing would be like, I’m fascinated by the difference in home décor between the Pacific northwest, and Ohio/Pennsylvania, where we’re looking. We’ve always been aware of the differences in clothing fashion between different parts of the country. There are also usually differences attributable to age and economic straits. And, visiting family, yes, I’ve also noticed it when I visit their homes. So much viewing, I suppose, has driven the disparity more deeply into me.
  11. The other thing is about how housing styles have changed through the decades. Back in the forties, fifties, and sixties, (I don’t know about other decades, because I don’t see houses from other times), homes seemed to mostly form follow function. Small box houses. Little character is evidenced outside. The yards are large, the rooms are small, especially bathrooms.
  12. Later, though, the houses grow more and more about exterior style. While the boxes were efficient but less attractive, the newer houses become more inefficient in their interiors, with lots of wasted space or strange spaces. Yards are smaller, though all of the yards on the listings I check are larger than the yards out here. I have several friends who are retired or practicing architects. I’d love to talk to them about evolving house designs. One was on the forefront of tiny houses and sustainable living, so I really want to get her take.
  13. We have three firm rules for our new place, wherever we settle. One, no mortgages. Paying in cash limits our choices (we don’t want to sink all of our cash into a house, right?), but we don’t want a mortgage. Two, no HOAs. They’ve burned us twice; never again. I think they’re one of the more ridiculous modern contrivances. Three, we need a little space. We just don’t like living on top of other people. When we first move back, we will be renting, of course. We’ve done this before. Although we haven’t moved in fourteen years, I was in the military for twenty years, as was my father before me. I’ve moved a lot during my lifetime.
  14. I’m pretty convinced we need to move. Not looking forward to it, but… But years of smoky summers and droughts, water restrictions, and wildfires have worn us down. Sad, because Ashland, Oregon, and the region are beautiful and wonderful in multiple ways. The negatives, though, have just added up. Given the trends of the previous ten years and the forecasts and models, we only see it getting worse.

Have a good day. Wear your masks, please. Be safe. Cheers

Sunday Slivers

  1. The skunks came back.
  2. I’ve installed outside lights in the front to dissuade nocturnal visitors. These lights are solar-charged batteries with motion sensors because skunks aren’t supposed to like lights. What else can be done to stop them? The web suggested mothballs. I deployed them. After doing that, I heard a noise and checked it out. The lights were on. A skunk walked up to the opening, lifted the board, and entered foundation. Damn it. Lights and mothballs had no effect.
  3. I escalated from mothballs to ammonia. “Put some ammonia in a bowl with a cloth to deter skunks,” several sites recommended. I did. The first skunk to show up seemed deterred. Not the second. Skirting the bowl, they headed on in, then left twelve minutes later. So…grrr.
  4. I know they’re different skunks by their tails and stripes. One skunk has white in the tail while the other’s tail is all black. White tail also seems smaller. White tail is the one who ignored the ammonia.
  5. I doused the board with ammonia and set it up again. No visits last night were recorded. I’ll refresh the ammonia tonight. I want to ensure there are no skunks (or other animals) under the house before I permanently fix the space.
  6. Watching television, a Ford commercial often plays. It extols Americans’ belief in speed. Yes, we believe in speed (snark). I’m not certain what they even mean. Are they defining speed as a value for our society? Sure, if you’re into fast food. Highways are limited by speed limits. Ford isn’t encouraging us to haul ass down highways over the speed limit, are they?
  7. That same Ford commercial tells how Americans love the great outdoors. They show a car — well, an SUV, to be technical — rumbling across the land. That’s not being outside, Ford. That’s being in a car. It’s called driving.
  8. Yeah, I know, splitting hairs in modern America and overthinking these things, aren’t I? I’m still simmering about how ‘literally’ is now used, along with ‘decimated’ and ‘obliterated’. They’ve all become weapons of hyperbole.
  9. We didn’t receive a Visa bill this month. Freak-out city. What happened? Why not? Going online to our account, I navigated to statements. No September statement. WTF? Why not? Occam’s razor: we didn’t charge anything on it. Really? But wouldn’t they/shouldn’t they send a statement to tell us they received the last payment and that we don’t owe them anything?
  10. When we told friends about not receiving a Visa bill, their response was astonishment. Like, “Wow, I don’t think that’s ever happened to us.” Yeah, we’re all standard American consumers. Charge it. We always pay it off, though. Every month.
  11. Tucker, our black and white moo-floof, has established a new routine. After using the litter box in the morning, he then steps out. Releasing a little cry, he tears through the house like the devil is after him. After going from his litter box (yeah, weirdly, in the office), to the farthest spot in the house (the master bedroom), he’ll pause for a few seconds. Then the second leg is initiated in reverse direction. Don’t know what’s behind this. I’ve talked to him about it. He says there’s nothing wrong. His urine and feces seem okay, fur and eyes look great, excellent appetite. Seems happy and healthy, and the litter box is clean. Well, you know what I mean.
  12. Tucker’s post-litter box sprints scares the hell out of the other cats. Our home has hardwood floors with rugs in the kitchen, halls, dining room, and foyer, carpeted in the bedrooms, office, and living room, tiled in the utility room and baths. This mixed terrain means that as Tucker takes corners and encounters the hardwood or tile, he’s sliding, scrabbling for traction, and making a lot of damn noise. The other cat’s don’t hold to see what’s going on. They react, “WTF!” and hit the pet door running. At least twice, the other two boys reached the pet door at the same time, which caused another, “Ack!” freakout moment for them.
  13. Cats. They are characters.

Locked Out of Twitter

I found myself locked out of Twitter this morning. They said that one of my posts violated their standards. They showed me the post:

FACT CHECK: VIRAL IMAGE FALSELY CLAIMS TO SHOW UNOPENED 2020 MAIL-IN BALLOTS IN A CALIFORNIA DUMPSTER

Oh, no, Twitter. I’ve offended your sensiblities by sharing an article debunking false information being spread? Shame on me.

Yeah, really, shame on you, Twitter. No, no, calm down, Michael; I know someone could have overzealously and erroneously marked this, that this could be simple human error. I know that on an intellectual basis, but on more primal levels, my mind screams, “You don’t want the truth about false information being spread to be put out there? What’s wrong with you morons?”

Naturally, I declined the opportunity to remove the post Twitter found offensive. I read their guidelines to see how this violated them. It didn’t. Again, either someone misread the article, didn’t read the article and made assumptions about it, or inadvertently blocked.

Now — after ‘proving I wasn’t a bot’ by clicking on a box — the matter has been turned over to the bureaucracy. I’ve always hated the bureaucracy. I became a champion of fighting it in the military and continued it in my civilian life after retirement. Like other bureaucracies encountered in governments, banks, Facebook, Google (and Alphabet), whatever, I’ll probably never hear back. They won’t change and rarely admit error. Even less frequently, they apologize for their behavior. Will my account be unlocked? Don’t know. That’s up to them, isn’t it? The bureaucratic beast holds all the power.

Have a better one. Cheers

t

Most Disturbing

Our local disaster, the Almeda Fire of earlier this month, issues numerous disturbing points for anyone who thinks about cause, effect, and results.

  1. To summarize, ours isn’t the worst disaster of the fire season. Not the largest, nor longest burning. Fast and brutal, it destroyed a few Ashland homes (my town, about two miles from my house). Then, egged on by high winds, it went north and west and destroyed two small neighboring towns, Talent and Phoenix, and terrorized Medford. Thousands of structures were destroyed. Thousands of people are displaced.
  2. While the fire was being fought, water ran out. The fire hydrants literally ran out of water. Multiple and simultaneous demands killed water pressure. That lack of water pressure meant first, no more water to fight fires, and second, potentially contaminated several towns’ drinking water. Boil warnings were issued.
  3. We have sirens and emergency systems set up in Jackson County and Ashland. Neither were used. Why? As the fire spread, evacuation orders were issued for one neighborhood. The entire city (and the county) was put on Level 1 evacuation orders, which means, be ready to go. But the Sheriff didn’t want the emergency warnings used; he didn’t want to cause panic. So instead of using those two systems, they did nothing. We were left in an information vacuum.
  4. Spectrum’s internet (and cable TV and landline systems) went down. A major cable burned through. Those of us still with Internet were able to log on. Facebook, and a local community group, became the most valued source of information. This was basically done by monitoring other cities and towns’ emergency orders to pass on to Ashlanders what was happening. That group, which already did a great job, is now asking, what can we do better? Love the proactive approach.
  5. Cell phone capability was compromised as the fire burned down several regional cell towers.
  6. The unscathed rallied to help the survivors. Money, food, clothing, batteries, telephone chargers, water, etc., were donated.
  7. Most of the money donated through the United Way and the Red Cross remain tied up in bureaucracy. Want help? Go to them. People who’ve lost everything were being directed to go hunt down the Red Cross and United Way and apply for help.
  8. Red Cross did set up at the Expo Center, where other agencies were set up. Here’s a classic tale, though. A man got onto Facebook and told the Red Cross there, hey, we don’t have transportation. We can’t get to you. Their response: call the national hotline. The national hotline’s response: call your local chapter. A local Red Cross worker finally woke up and said, I’ll get you help. It shouldn’t be so damn hard, though.
  9. Meanwhile, FEMA has become a joke. Their guidance is to apply. Then, if you’re turned down, apply again. And if you’re turned down again, keep applying until you’re approved.
  10. How fucking broken is FEMA that their standard operating procedure seems to be to initially reject people but, you know, keep trying. Savage, especially for people who have lost everything, their paperwork, clothing, and the mobile and manufactured homes that they lived in. They were already just hanging on, keeping their heads high enough to avoid being sucked under, and this agency, established to help survivors after a disaster, prove to be inept and bungling. Infuriating.
  11. *snark alert* One noble local business, a storage place, told their renters that everyone needs to come in and clean up their space. By the way, they’re still charging the full amount for the month. Sounds like good fucking people, right?
  12. Should write about the animals, but don’t want to. It’s painful. Many people prize their animals above everything else. Now they’re scrambling to find them. Animals are being found, fed, treated, etc. Communities have been set up online to share photos, sightings, descriptions, etc. It’s a huge, sprawling mess, though. There must be a way to do it better. I end up getting diverted, looking through descriptions of lost pets and thinking, I saw that animal listed on another page, didn’t I? Then I go looking, usually without success.
  13. Some pets have been re-united, and those are noted as success. It’s also noted when animals have crossed the rainbow bridge.
  14. The photos of singed, burnt surviving animals rip your guts, you know?
  15. Think of all the services that you use. Gas, water, trash pickup, electric, banking, credit cards, phone, Internet. All needed to be called to be told, “Hello, my home burned down.” In the case of Internet, gas, and electric, they needed to be told, shut off those services and please don’t charge me. For banking and credit cards, it was sometimes, watch for fraud or send me new cards.
  16. A bright spot emerged from the local restaurants. Many locally owned places in Ashland said, you need a meal, come in and tell us, no charge, no questions asked. We’re here for you. A few made hundreds of meals and went off to the evacuation points and served them. Other businesses, schools, and churches set their parking lots up as socially distanced places where people can park and sleep, opening up their restrooms and showers (when available) for people to use 24/7.

There is more, but you know, that’s enough for one September Saturday. Be safe. Enjoy your day. Take care.

And please wear your damn mask.

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