Tag: Information

DIY Update

I realized that I never issued a DIY update on my HVAC.

Background, the AC had ceased. I checked the usual issues and found nada. The A/C capacitator worked. 240 was reaching the unit. Nothing was coming from the thermostat.

After replacing the furnace’s stepdown transformer for the furnace and the furnace control panel and seeing no success, I tested the furnace cover’s safety switch. No power there. I tested the power into the junction box. No power.

The switch for the furnace is mounted on the wall not far from the furnace, right above the entrance into the space as you climb up the ladder from the garage. Not an easy access space. To check that box, I’d need to throw the circuit breaker for the furnace. That would kill any useful light in the attic space.

I mounted my trouble light up there on a rafter. Connecting it with an extension cord, I plugged it into a garage wall socket below. Light was restored. My largest concern was that my right ankle would roll on me while I was standing on the ladder. Although I wore a brace on it, it weighed on my mind. I imagined it rolling and toppling off the ladder. Such an imagination. I should write fiction.

Pulling the cover off the switch, I discovered the quick connects in it fried. Replacing the unit was short work after purchasing a new one.

Job done. Just in time for cold nights and morning. Really satisfying to hear that furnace start and run.

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Floof Generis

Floof Generis (floofinition) – One of a kind sort of animal, which can be decided by personality, appearance, or actions. Origin: early 1900s, middle Floofinus influences.

In Use: “Camilla was a floof generis, understanding her human’s needs before a word was said, silently rushing off to bring Colleen her cell phone before it rang, opening the refrigerator to bring back a beer, fetching newspapers and books, and of course, slippers and blankets.”

In Use: “The relationship between the child, crow, cat, and dog was so floof generis that videos of it stormed through social media.”

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Sunday’s Wandering Thought

I was walking down street when a silver Hyundai Santa Fe pulled out of their drive and turned my way. As they came on, I realized that a can was resting on top of the car on the passenger side.

“Hey,” I called. Gesturing, I tried playing charades with the driver: something. Car. Roof. Meanwhile, I hollered at him, “There’s a can on your car’s roof.”

Beaming, he gave me a big, friendly wave.

“No, no,” I cried out. “There’s something on your car’s roof.”

He drove on around the corner and was gone.

C’est le vie.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: Exsundaypated

Another autumn day has been sprung on us in Ashlandia. We shouldn’t be surprised; it is October 13, 2024. Yet, here we are. Facing a blue sky and unimpeded sunshine, we’re braving 54 F right now. 77 F is on the way. All those gorgeous sunshine highlights the unabashedly fall foliage. It’s a good day for leaf peeping — leafping — if you’re into that. Even if not, it can be a pleasurable way to ease through this October Sunday. Our air quality is good.

I spent last night drilling through emails, blog posts, and articles as the Oregon Ducks defeated the Ohio State Buckeyes on national television turned on in my background. Most of the news can be categorized as ‘dumb shit Trump said or did’. Exasperating. But going through Crooks & Liars, I listened to Lennie Kravitz with Slash from GNR playing “Always on the Run” from 1991 on Jon Amato’s Late Night feature. Haven’t heard the song for a few election cycles and it simmered and stewed overnight. The Neurons put it on play in the morning mental music stream (Trademark running) this morning.

Just 23 days until November 5, 2024. It’s getting raw out there. Most pushback against Harris claiming victory comes as ‘reasoning’ masquerading as racism, sexism, fear, or bullshit. Like the folks whining, “I don’t now if she’s up to being President.” Doesn’t stop them from voting for a convict and failed President, though. They apparently think he’s up to being President even after many of his former staff declare that he isn’t. And that was when he was years younger. Now on the short end of his late seventies, he’s demonstrating many of the same issues that had people wringing their hands over President Biden returning to the White House.

I will say that AARP’s little political foray pissed me off in their mailer. They claim, ‘Oh, we’re non-partisan. We’re just giving both sides of the issues. Here’s what the candidates said.’ Paraphrasing for them.

Like, what a crock. Like Trump isn’t carrying the baggage of being a felon, on record for lying, lying, lying, and more lying. Like he didn’t take classified documents, lie about taking them, and refused to give them up, and then lied about that. Like Trump isn’t an ignorant blowhard who makes unfounded claims and accusations with every speech. Like Trump didn’t incite an insurrection and lie about it. Like Trump has any principles or values beyond how he can wring more money out of others for himself. Like Trump cares for anyone except himself.

Like Kamala Harris isn’t an accomplished individual. Like she wasn’t the Attorney General in California. Like she wasn’t a U.S. Senator. Like she hasn’t been Vice President for almost four years. Like she hasn’t articulated and written about her positions.

Hopefully, the people going through AARP’s piece will read and think about what Trump said, as most of it is vague promises and claims about how great he’s gonna make everything, just as he vaguely claims every year, every day, without changing much for the good.

Of course, I despair that anyone voting in this election is depending on AARP guidance after all the news being blared across the ether 24/7. But we know what kind of world it is and how some folks function. That’s why there’s a vein of undecided voters causing tremors about how the election will play out.

Be strong and positive. Vote blue in 2024. Vote for Kamala Harris for President. I’ve had some coffee, so I’m ready to go. Here’s the music video. Cheers.

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Winday’s Wandering Thoughts

The Starbucks lobby was locked. A sign said, “Sorry, lobby closed for maintenance.”

I considered Remix across the street. It was already busy and its seating had never suited me.

Back in the car, I headed to Noble’s on 4th, my other go-to place. I mostly mix it up between those two these months. My spouse has been campaigning for RoCo lately, so I veered over to East Main to hit it up.

I used to regularly visit RoCo. Named the Roasting Company back then I haven’t visited since BC; Before COVID. A small converted home, it was frequently packed. Outlets were limited and that’s needed for my power hungry laptop.

But my wife claimed it had changed. I trust my wife so I found parking and headed in.

She was right. Much lighter than it used to be inside, they’d added power strips screwed to the benches so outlets were plentiful. Not very crowded this day, either.

Classic rock played. Who can argue with Bowie, Pat Benatar, the Animals, the Mysterios, Stray Cats, and Pink Floyd providing background music?

A productive writing session was won. Of course, this is Saturday. Things change on weekdays. But it worked out today and I liked it, so I’ll try Monday. See if I have another good coffee writing session.

That’s what’s important.

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Winday’s Political Thoughts

I read a disturbing Slate article today.

Remember that thing we used to learn about some truths being self-evident?

Under the GOP, that’s no longer directionally correct.

“The Wrong-Direction Election” by Ben Mathis-Lilley delineates exactly why the GOP has become so half-assed. It’s about being ‘directionally correct’.

Not familiar to you? ‘Directionally correct’ is a way of covering the GOP’s collective ass about Trump and Republican lying. Orwell is likely shaking his head in amazement. From the article:

“And being directionally correct—or sometimes directionally accurate—is, according to many of Donald Trump’s supporters, something that Donald Trump is very good at. His claims about trans athletes, immigrants, and the 2020 election might not be strictly true, these advocates say, but they are directionally so, because he’s talking about a real problem, or at least a feeling that there’s a real problem.”

Isn’t that precious?

The Republicans have become masters of bullshit. If I get the gist of it right, my saying that that the GOP are all unprincipled hypocritical, gun-loving, women-hating sexist, greedy, anti-democracy lying racist bigots, I’m directionally correct, because there’s at least a feeling that’s there’s a real problem with them and their lying campaigns in response to every critical moment in the nation’s recent history.

Take fer’instance if you will, their claim ‘Harris controls the weather’ and are ‘aiming it at red areas’. Or their bullshit (yes, let’s just call their lies and misinformation for what it is) that FEMA is being ordered not to help Republicans.

Or maybe I’m just directionally accurate.

Vote blue in 2024 so we can start cutting the heads of this monster.

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Floofcronym

Floofcronym (floofinition) – Another name given to an animal based on the initials of words being used to describe their looks, personality, or behavior. Origins: 1940, first noted in Greece.

In Use: “The kitten was formerly known as Princess Go-Lucky, but soon became referred to more often as SAFT — Small and Fast Thief — with a penchant for stealing chips, cheese, and doughnuts whenever someone turned their back on their food.”

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Two Dreams of Helping

The first dream found me and my wife living in an apartment. A nice place, well lit, spacious, and quiet, it had some problems with ventilation and water, but I’d fixed them. However, one window gave me some trouble, so I went to adjust it.

I was surprised when I pulled back the window’s sheer curtains; another window, to another’s apartment was directly opposite, about a foot away. A man was over there. I easily looked into their pleasingly furnished place of overstuffed furniture (it was their living room) and then, as I thought was right, apologized to the man and made haste to shut the curtains and pretend they weren’t there.

But the woman, short, with thick, dark hair, was hurrying forward, calling, “Wait, wait.” So I did. She rushed up and asked, “How did you fix your ventilation?”

I had no real answer, explaining that I’d just kept tinkering with it. Impatiently, she interrupted, “Well, can you fix ours?”

Weirdly, there were then two other windows I could see in other people’s apartments. A woman was at each, a man behind them asking, “Can you also fix ours?”

I was taken back. I hadn’t done anything special that I could explain. I’d just kept addressing it. But I couldn’t tell them no; they wouldn’t let me. So I agreed to fix their places.

Dream end.

The next dream found me in a small square waiting room, darkish with heavy wood paneling. I’m not sure where people were waiting to go. I wasn’t waiting but just passing through. A woman escorted me through the room. I came across one individual, a man on the floor. Bearded with curly brown hair, he seemed almost lifeless.

“Oh, that’s Reardon,” the woman said when I asked about him. “He’s a lost cause. He doesn’t have a reason to go on.”

That upset me. Though the woman and I continued on through the room, Reardon stayed on my mind. I finally said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t just leave him like that,” and went back.

Getting to him, I just gave him a long hug and talked to him, telling him that he was special, and that he shouldn’t give up. Then I went on.

I next came back into the room. Much lighter than it was before, a door was open on the other end. People were filing out. Most were already gone. Looking around, I asked about Reardon. I was told that he had recovered and that he was about to go through the door. She said he was very happy with what I’d done and kept talking about me.

I hurried over, calling him as I did. I didn’t want him to have the wrong idea, which to me, was that I was in love with him. I don’t know why I was suddenly worried that this is what he’d believe.

I called his name when I saw him. He turned and greeted me. At least a foot taller than me, I was forced to look up at him. In his right hand was a thick fan of money, mostly $100 bills.

Seeing me, he grinned. “I know what you’re going to say. I know what you’re thinking. You think that I think I’m in love with you, but I’m not. I understand what you did. Honestly, it saved me.”

He offered me money as a gift. I declined, saying something else that I don’t remember. We hugged, my face to his chest. A woman at the open door said it was time for him to go. They were waiting on him. Reardon released me and went through the doorway.

Dream end.

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Snoozaflooflooza

Snoozaflooflooza (floofinition) – An ongoing celebration of sleep which many animals participate in. Origins: unknown, believed by floofologist to predate human history.

In Use: “Not knowing that her cats had decided to join snoozaflooflooza this year, Judi worried over how much the trio was sleeping, fearful that they had an illness.”

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The Can’t-Wake-Up Dream

I’d been working. In the military, it seemed like from clues, but it was never clearly presented. Staying in some manner of mixed work, play, sleep compound. Very modern. Enormously wide hallways. Well lit.

I’d been going to and fro, doing work and receiving instructions, sometimes passing guidance along, when suddenly, I was asleep. Yep, asleep in my dream. And I couldn’t wake up. And I knew this. I new that I wanted and needed to wake up. But my head was heavy with exhaustion and my eyes felt glued shut.

Someone came by and spoke with me. Don’t know what they said. I replied, “I need to wake up but I can’t. I must get up.”

Somehow, I did manage to get up. “Water,” I told myself. “Drink some water. That will help.”

Feeling my way about, I came to a sink and turned on the water. Using my hand to catch water, I guzzled a bit.

It wasn’t working. “Put water on your face,” I told myself. “Splash your eyes.”

Right; yes. That worked enough that at last I could open my eyes. “Food and coffee will help,” I said to myself. “Go find some.”

Dream end. Early sunlight was petering in around the closed blinds. The dream felt so real that I went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water and then went to a mirror to see if my eyes were open. Very strange.

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