Category: Thinking, thinking

DIY Part Infinity

Every other year, it seems like I’m working on my air conditioner. It’s less than twenty years old by a handful of years, so you’d think it’d be fine. But the truth is, pieces on it regularly fail. The first year of failure, a service guy told me what failed and why, and added, “Parts are made to fail anymore. They have a short life.” He didn’t know if companies were cheaping out on materials or making deliberate choices to reduce parts life to generate more business. He and I agreed, it was probably both. Since I was skeptical of his claims, I researched his assertions on the net and found there’s growing supporting evidence for them.

That aside, I began teaching myself DIY stuff via videos and forums. Replacing the garbage disposal, fixing toilets, sinks, and sprinkler systems, repairing the furnace and air conditioner, whatever came up, I sucked up a deep breath and muttered, “Charge.” Fortunately, the net is full of advice and instructions. Some of it is shit, but there are some solid, helpful sites.

It looks like the air conditioner is in the batting box again in 2024. I flicked it on the other day and…nothing. The usual first steps of settings, circuit breakers, and switches were checked. All good.

I went right out, removed the air conditioner’s service panel, and then the little protective cover on the starter, and pushed in the plunger with a screwdriver. The A/C roared on. Good, it’s getting two forty. Good. A multimeter showed, yes, there is 240v coming to it, but hey, no 24 volt power. Ah.

Back to the thermostat. I pulled the cover off and checked the batteries. Then I checked voltage on the red (power) line and yellow (AC). Nothing. Ah. Must be up in the furnace.

The furnace is in the ‘attic’ crawlspace, a vertical unit sitting on its side above the garage. I laddered up there into the heat. 89 F outside, it felt like it was the upper nineties up there. My body turned on my sweat like I was watering a garden

I turned off the furnace at the switch on the wall and pulled the panels. Safety switch looked good. No loose wires. But also, no blinking diagnostic light on the control panel. The control panel didn’t seem to be getting energy. I checked the little five-amp fuse: intact. Okay.

Power was put back on and the panel safety switch was taped down. I used the multimeter to check voltage on the black L1 power line in and a neutral. No power. For grins and giggles, I also checked the 24v power line and found no power, kind of as expected. Tracing the L1, I realized that in my system, it doesn’t come directly in from the safety switch; the line goes to the stepdown transformer.

As it’s a dark, cramped space, I took a photo of the transformer with my phone so I could study it. When I did, I immediately spotted what looked like damage from aging. Deciding WTH, I went down to the computer, found the piece online, and ordered it.

A heat wave is coming. Upper nineties tomorrow, 106 to 112 F here in Ashlandia on the fourth, and like degrees on the fifth and sixth. The part is due in anytime between the third and the eighth. Hope it gets in on the third but…not holding my breath on that.

Also, hope it is the transformer, because it’s an inexpensive part and an easy fix. If it ain’t the transformer, it’s either the wiring going through the house (which really doesn’t make sense) or the controller board. The board is more expensive and more involved to replace. I don’t want to do that but…if I must…

As stated, I so hope it’s the transformer. Fingers. Fucking. Crossed.

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Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

We’re watching “Black Matter” on Apple TV. Don’t confuse it with “Dark Matters”. The plural of matters makes it a completely different matter.

This series is based on the Blake Crouch novel of the same name from 2016. We read the book back when it came out. Now it’s fun, trying to remember the novel’s plot and comparing it to what’s going on in the television job. Like a pop culture memory test.

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Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts

I saw an article about a man in Florida getting bit by a shark while fishing. I wondered, how did it happen? Was he wading? It made more sense that he was fishing in a boat in that area, but that opened the incident to more questions, like, did the shark jump into the boat? But as I began reading, I thought, if the shark jumped into the boat, that would have been the headline: “SHARK JUMPS INTO BOAT, BITES MAN”.

Satisfying myself about what had happened, I went on to other news. A few minutes pass and then my wife says, “Man fishing in Florida gets bit by shark. How did that happen? Did the shark jump into the boat?”

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Sumstalgia

Another lovely summer morning has slide into place. We shall call it, “Rumplestiltskin”. Naw, we’ll stick to the usual boring but useful process and call it Wednesday, June 26, 2024. Like many a newborn, it’ll be marked but what happens during its short life.

It’s 65 F now and the cats are cooling it in favorite cooling-it spots after eating brekkie. 81 F may tempt the temp measuring devices but the weather cards tell us it ain’t s’posed to be too hot today. My breakfast of kumquats, blueberries, passion fruit, almonds, brazil nuts, and a bagel has been consumed, and I’m loading coffee into my system as cool breezes gambol in through the windows.

Two songs are occupying the morning mental music stream (Trademark refreshed). Snippets of one entertain the neurons, and then the other pops in. One song is “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fightin'”, an Elton John song of some repute. It was featured in a dream where I was playin’ the six-stringed instrument and singing it, performing for a packed place. I had strikingly huge arms in this dream, and kept looking at them in mirrors from different angles, thinkin’, “Boy, that looks strange.” With those aspects all that’s remembered of the dream, it deserves a prefix like ‘mini’ or adejctive like ‘brief’ before it.

The other song has some Sting softly songing “I want my MTV,” and then those drums and other things start up and we go full-fledged into the Dire Straits hit, “I Want My MTV”. MTV offered memoriable shows and ideas but now it’s a fading phenom as MTV.com now says ‘that page does not exist.’

Started in 1981, I was on Okinawa during its early years. I was familiar with it because a friend and co-worker had friends recording MTV for him and sending the videos to him so he could watch them on VHS while he rode an exercise bike in his living room. I watched a little but became bored sitting there as they tried to entertain us with music news and music videos. Many videos were interesting but it didn’t induce me into wanting to waste the day watching them.

Of course, MTV gave us Comedy Central, which begat “The Daily Show”, which often saved us when faced with political insanity.

The first music video played on MTV was “Video Killed the Radio Star” by The Buggles. But the second was Pat Benatar with “You Better Run” so that’s our theme music today.

Stay strong and be positive. Let’s freshen the coffee and start rolling this day up the hill. Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music. Cheers

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A Good Question

The Hill has a nice little opinion piece about Donald J. Trump and the Louisiana ten commandments law. That law says that every classroom in the state will display the ten commandments. Many think that Louisiana law violates the separation of church and state establishment clause of our nation’s founding documents.

But The Hill has a great idea: ask Donald Trump if he supports this during the debate, and then, as a first follow up, ask him to name the ten commandments.

Oh, boy what a word salad that would create! We’d hear great a lot. Probably hear, too, that Moses was a great friend of Trump’s, wonderful guy, used to cruise the desert together. We might be regaled by a Trump tale of how Moses wanted Trump to fly him to the flaming bush but Trump talked him out of it.

“Mo,” Trump says, further explaining, “I always called him Mo. All his close friends did, and family, some family, but I believe I’m the one who started calling him Mo. He wasn’t a Moses he was a Mo. Not like the Three Stooges but still. Three Stooges. Funniest comedians ever, so funny, very funny.

“So I told Mo, Mo, think of the optics. I’m very good with optics. I’m great with optics. Some say that I’m the greatest with optics in the world ever. Optics, you know, optics can change people’s impressions of you. It’s true. That’s why, you need to have a brand. Once you have a brand, you protect it. The Trump brand, I established the Trump brand. Very protective of it, very protective, very. Greatest brand in the world, greatest. People voted for me when I ran because they knew the Trump brand.
They knew it. They knew the Trump brand and all the Trump brand stands for. That’s why people trust me. It’s the Trump brand. The Trump brand is one of the most valuable in the world. Ever. I told Lincoln, I didn’t tell him, no, Lincoln was, but if Lincoln had been there, I would have told him, Ab, you need to create a brand. If Ab had created a brand, he’d, they would have never shot him. Democrats shot him. Democrats. Cuz they feared him. Just like they fear me. Because I tell the truth. I tell the truth. Everyone knows I always tell the truth. That’s why I wanted to lock up Hillary. But I never said that. Never said it. Never. I could have locked her up, had every right to, after I won. But I didn’t. That’s why they created the virus, the covfefe virus. The Dems did it. Worked with the Chinese. Secret government. They’re out to take over the world. That’s why they must be stopped. They’re killers. They’ll do anything to stop me. Anything. I receive more threats. If you knew, I’ve been threatened more times than Lincoln. And they killed him. So, you know, that’s a lot of threats. But I’m too tough. Too tough. The generals who worked for me in the White House, they’d tell me every day, sir, you’re so tough. Sir, you’re the toughest son of a bitch we’ve ever seen. Always call me, sir, always call me, sir. Because they respect me for my toughness. I would’ve been a great soldier. Great leader. Natural leader, natural leader. I was a leader when I was a child. People, whenever something went wrong, people would like at me and they would ask, what should we do? You’re a great leader, what should we do? See, they can see that in me. I have an aura of greatness. Also an aura of invisibility. That’s why I know so much. Put on my invisibility aura and people don’t know I’m there. So I eavesdrop on them because they don’t know I’m there because I’m invisible. That’s how I knew the FBI planted documents. I was there but I had my invisibility aura on and they couldn’t see me. They couldn’t see me but I saw. And I heard. So I know what they did.

“Did you know I have an invisibility aura? Let me put it on for you. I’ll put it on right now. See? You can’t see me know, can you? That’s because I’m invisible. But you can see Biden. You can see Joe Biden. He’s standing there, on the other side of the stage. You can see him because he can’t become invisible like I can. That’s why you should vote for me.”

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The Basis for Law

A good friend of mine, Herb, is a retired Yale professor. Hailing from Louisiana, he also has a lifetime of passionate progressive activism behind him. As part of his next act, he’s trying to help establish an online local news, Ashland.news, working with a handful of others. In accordance with that activity, he also publishes opinion pieces.

This week, Herb took on his home state’s misguided efforts to post the ten commandments in every school classroom. Louisiana proponents of that effort claim that the ten commandments are the basis of law in the United States. Without saying, poppycock, Herb points out that isn’t so, focusing on the Supreme Court building to help establish his point. It’s not a long article and I invite you to read it, but these are the gist of Herb’s position.

I would welcome opposition to publicly sponsored display of the Ten Commandments on historical and moral as well as Constitutional grounds. I would (and now will) argue that as a code of justice the Ten Commandments are rudimentary, and they were not especially formative of U.S. law.

In a National Public Radio interview, Dodie Horton, who sponsored the mandatory display bill in the Louisiana senate, contended, “Our laws are based on the Ten Commandments. In fact, without them, a lot of our laws would not exist.” Which laws might she mean (the interviewer didn’t ask)? It needs no voice from a thundercloud to teach us not to murder, steal or bear false witness. No society can tolerate such actions because they destroy social cohesion.

Hebrew society wasn’t even the first to write down these prohibitions. The Code of Ur-Nammu antedates the Book of Exodus by at least a millennium. In it, murder, rape, robbery and adultery are capital crimes. A somewhat later and more famous Mesopotamian code, ascribed to Hammurabi, has 282 laws and regulations addressing a wide range of social and economic interactions. A portrait of Hammurabi in marble relief is included in the frieze on the south wall of the U.S. Supreme Court chamber.

The figures in that frieze and its continuation on the north wall point to the many sources of our laws. Reading the south frieze left to right: Menis (from ancient Egypt), Hammurabi, Moses, Solomon, Lycurgus (ancient Sparta), Solon and Draco (ancient Athens), Confucius and Augustus Caesar. Reading the north frieze from left to right: Justinian, Muhammed, Charlemagne, King John (because he signed the Magna Carta), Louis IX, Hugo Grotius, William Blackstone, John Marshall and Napoleon.

We don’t have legal documents from all these figures, but most of them represent legal developments that were formative for us. Pace Ms. Horton, were there no Ten Commandments, our laws would look no different than they are, but they are unimaginable without the Corpus Juris Civilis (Body of Civil Law), the codification of Roman law under the auspices of the 6th century CE Eastern Roman emperor Justinian I. An even more formative influence was William Blackstone’s “Commentaries on the Laws of England” of the 18th century. It’s the best-known description of the doctrines of the English common law, which developed separately from Roman law.

If Republicans were more interested in facts instead of myths, they would know the facts as Herb laid them out. Unfortunately, they’re too busy suborning the U.S. Constitution and its foundations and forcing their religion on everyone else to bother learning facts.

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The Red Tricycle Dream

I was with some sort of military unit. A bunch of military units wre there, all living side-by-side with their families, including children in this big sort of hanger. It was a sea of chaos to my eyes.

The guy in charge held up a large white envelope. “Someone needs to go around and collect for the charities.”

“I’ll do it,” I said. Otherwise, it seemed like I was doing nothing but waiting.

Directions about what to do were in the envelope, along with a list of the units. My task was to go around and hit them up for money, not just the units, but some individuals in the units. Weirdly, I was to always get eight donations. That struck me because a few years ago, I had a series of dreams in which eight was always significant.

I began my collections, and fumbled my way through, telling others what I was doing and why, getting the required monies. After doing three, I thought, this is ridiculous. I was walking, and with the throngs of milling people and distances, snails would have outraced me. Going back and turning in my collection, I complained, “I need some way to get around faster.”

Someone gave me a little red tricycle to use, the kind of transpo suited to a toddler. I sat on the seat and grabbed the grips on the silver handlebars. The grips were white, with pink and white tassels hanhing off them. Applying my feet to the pedals, I tried to make progress, but it was ridiculous, with my knees rising above the handlebars and sometimes slamming into them.

Getting off the trike, I considered my transportation. “I need to make some changes,” I said, “but how?”

Like heat lightning on a summer evening, the idea came: I will think of the changes I want and make them happen.

First, the three-wheeler needed to be larger to fit my adultness. I picked up the thing and thought that until the trike was sufficiently sized. Next, I thought, I want the front wheel further out, like a chopper. Thought and done. Then, sitting on it again, I thought, I want the seat to be like a chair and reclined. Done.

Next, did I really need to pedal? Flying over this crowd and from unit to unit would make my task deeply easier. So I thought of wings, and then decided, yes, this can fly. Somewhere along that process, I gained a flying helmet with googles and a white scarf.

I took off on a practice run, flying around the hanger, and it was smooth as an icy pond. In quick order, I was flying to the units on my rounds. Some of the unit personnel knew me at one and asked, “How did you get that flying bike?”

I told them, “Someone gave me a red tricycle and I changed it.”

“But how did you change it?”

“I just thought of what I wanted,” I replied. “And that made it happen.”

4

Old History

When the Humans had finally done so much to anger the rest of the Universe’s civilizations, they were relocated. The small solar system which was now home to Humans had few planets and was part of a Forbidden Realm. Magic was cast over it to keep the Humans from leaving the solar system. Magic also kept them from communicating with others.

But worse things were done to Humanity. They were stripped of learning about their heritage. As far as they knew, they’d always existed on the third rock from the sun. Perhaps, though, the most malignant curses put on Humanity gave them a short life span and aged them quickly. Then, finally, they were kept from knowing the truth about death.

So it would be until the Forbidden Realm was breached and another race came to Earth. Unless Why could stop them.

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: upbeat and restless

Today is Saturday, June 22, 2024. Summer had asserted itself with a firm hand. A solidly blue sky gazes down on Ashlandia and bright sunshine blisters our skin and browns the land. Currently 73 F, Ashlandia’s area will experience low to mid 90s for the highs today. The wind has shifted and the smoke has drifted out of our valley to go plague others in another valley, so it’s breathable outside. Take precautions against the heat and outside activities can be pursued. It supposed to get cooler for a few days, with temperatures dipping into the eighties.

It feels like it’s been a long week. Realizing it’s Saturday surprises me. The big Biden-Trump debate looms on the calendar. Personally, I have a physical this week. Slowing down, moderately overweight, I feel like I’m aging by the day — which, yeah, we all are — so I’m not looking forward to the physical.

Mom and I spoke yesterday. She related one of her favorite precautionary tales. Her mother had a thing about smells. She was living alone, in her nineties, as her children discussed putting her into a nursing home or assisted living facility. Those discussions had stalled.

Meanwhile, on a cold December Nebraska night, her mother put on a light jacket and took a banana peel out to put in the outside trash. She slipped and fell, staying on the ground for forty-five minutes before noticed and helped. That was the end of her living alone. She lived for several more years but wasn’t the same.

On her part, Mom’s big fall over a decade ago triggered her long health decline. For my part, when I was immobilized with an obstructed bladder a few years ago, I saw changes quickly emerge. I was suddenly stiffer and less fluid in my movement. My balance felt slightly off. My metabolic rate had changed as I aged, of course, but suddenly I put on weight. Much of my muscle seemed to slack off overnight. Then, boom, my skin all seemed to be sagging.

It’s likely that all those things were happening but I didn’t notice until my routines were changed. Seeing those changes made me more cognizant of my retreating hair line, and the color fleeing my hair and beard. I feel older, slower, and weary. Reading news of the world and its people, and political news, doesn’t seem to help at all. I turn to coffee for energy boosts but I know I shouldn’t be drinking it any longer. Like Grandma and her banana peel, I can’t stop myself.

I read Jill Dennison’s blog as frequently as I can. She and I seem like kindred political spirits, part of the same tribe as many of you who regularly visit my blog and comment. I read one of Jill’s posts and commented yesterday. In her comments back to me, she mentioned that she’s looking for a rainbow.

That was like a set up for The Neurons. As soon as that was read and digested, they began playing Chris Rea’s song, “Looking for A Rainbow” from 1989, in the morning mental music stream (Trademark smoldering). The song starts out slow as it carries forward the album’s theme, The Road to Hell, but becomes jauntier and of course features Rea’s slide guitar work.

Well we come down to the valley
Yea we’re looking for the honey
I see a rainbow
I say that’s the land of milk and honey

Me and my cousin
Me and my brother
My little sister too
Come looking for a rainbow
Yea we’re looking for a rainbow

Well we come down to the valley
Got our babies in our arms
Yea we’re Maggie’s little children
And we’re looking for Maggie’s farm

Me and my cousin
Me and my brother
My little sister too
Come looking for a rainbow
Yea we’re looking for a rainbow

h/t to Genius.com

Yeah, Jill, baby, I think many of us are looking for a rainbow and the land of milk and honey. Some seem to believe the only way there is by holding others back, beating them down, or banishing them. Yes, I’m looking at you, Republicans.

Stay positive – yes, it’s hard – be strong – yes, also hard – and lean forward and Vote Blue in 2024. Maybe we can create a place that attracts rainbows. Here’s the music. Cheers

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The Writing Moment

Finished editing and revising the current novel in progress. It’s either the sixth or seventh iteration. Doesn’t matter.

My vision for it has clarified through the process of writing and then reading and changing it. One storyline was excised as meandering, dull, and convoluted. Firmer insights into relationships, terminology, and setting crystallized, leading to more slices. Explanations and clarifications were thinned. Characters and relationships found sharper evolution.

All good. I enjoy the manuscript and that means something to me. It is lengthy and meaty, and I wonder and worry about its length. But then I shrug, because nothing emerges for me to deliberately remove.

Now I’ll begin editing and revising again. This time I’m pursuing more of the novel’s voice and feel. I suspect — it’s a feeling — that this will be the last go around. And then I’ll begin pursuing publication.

A friend — another writer — asked me what titles I would compare it to. And gosh, I came up with nothing. I have some vague notions. Historic fiction, science fiction, and fantasy all combined in this speculative effort. And it has stories and characters embedded in it whose stories I’d like to pursue. Like Humans. Humans’ are in the book’s forefront and background, as they were moved to isolation in a forbidden zone long before events in this book. They are important to the novel because the primary antagonist is a Martian who loves Humans and conquers others to spread Human cultures. That’s one reason the rest of the civilizations consider her so dangerous. The other is that she’s proven difficult to kill.

There’s also the main character’s stepmother and her complicated story. I’d like to pursue exploring her and how she developed into the person she is. Then, there’s the main character’s relationship to his sister, and what happened to her in parallel to him, and where she is and if she’s still a cat.

But then, there are also so many other projects sitting in the wings, waiting for me to come back to them. And they’re all stories, concepts, ideas, which interest me.

It’s all fun, reading, writing, editing, imagining, thinking, the life of a writer.

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