Tag: just goofing around

Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

Rain showers the street and sidewalks outside the coffee shop windows. Between the clouds and rain, gray smothers the day like swaths of gray flannel.

The coffee shop is cold. It’s always cold when the sun ain’t cracking through to brighten and warm us. Despite wearing a fleece jacket, I’m shivering, and my hands are cold. My wife, who suffers Renaud’s disease, would be in misery.

And I had to pee again. I finally decided to seek the answer about why I pee more often when I’m cold and did a search.

“Cold-induced diuresis,” thenakedscientists.com on the net informed me, basically an increase in urine due to more blood being filtered due to vasoconstriction to conserve heat, more or less.

At least I know the reason now. At least my laptop’s keyboard warms my fingertips a little. How we artists must suffer.

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Grim Task

It was a grim task set before me. I, not a fan of tasks and less enamored of those tasks of the grim variety, didn’t relish taking it up. But duty, right.

All were assembled around the table. Leaning forward so they could see me, looking around, I loudly said, “I have a question for you.” I waited for silence, which came fast and cast another check on their attention; all were regarding me. “Do you wear socks in the shower?” I asked.

Staring followed, then questions. What, what are you talking about, and say that again was heard among the ten facing me, along with some sputtering, uncertain laughing.

“Do you wear socks in the shower?” I repeated.

“No,” several responded, and then a few inquired, “Why are you asking that?”

“Well, my wife read an article about bizarre things people from different states do, and she read that people in Oregon like to shower with their socks on. Then she asked me, ‘Have you ever heard of this?’ No, I told her. She said, ‘I’ve never showered with my socks on, but I don’t shower.’ I told her, ‘I shower, but I don’t wear my socks.'” Then we talked more and realized, maybe people do this but don’t talk about it because it’s a normal routine for them, so they see no need to speak about it. So, I said that I’d ask you guys, my beer group.”

“No,” all chorused, fully laughing now. “None of us wear our socks in the shower.”

Satisfied that the grim task was done, I sat back and sampled my ale. It was very good.

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Wednesday’s Wandering Whimsies

Do you ever imagine that invisibile beings surround you, watching what you’re doing when you’re in your home alone, commenting on it to each other?

They seem to come in three flavors: aliens from space, time travelers from the future, and deceased individuals — especially family — returned as spirits. What they say and how they watch varies, depending upon which group they’re in, and their intentions.

So, for example, aliens crowd around you in the kitchen as you clean up, remarking upon the cultural significance of your routine, applauding your efficiency (or lack of it), comparing it to their own processes and habits.

No? You never have this happen?

Yeah, neither do I.

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Sunday’s Wandering Thought

I awoke feeling tired and realized I’d gotten about six hours of sleep. Wasn’t real concerned as that’s been my norm for years. But I usually don’t feel tired, and I wondered if it had to do with aging, as I’m now sniffing on the border of being 68. So I thought, yes, this is probably the case.

When I went into the office, cranked up the ‘puter and turned to the NYTimes this morning after breakfast, the first story spotted was, “Why Does Sleep Become More Elusive As We Age” in Salon. I don’t think sleep is my issue per se, but rest. Still, it made me feel like they were spying on my private thoughts.

I wouldn’t be surprised if another story emerges soon, “Why Do We Get More Paranoid About Being Spied On When We Age” soon.

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Sunday’s Wandering Thought

I like being proactive and getting ahead of things for the holidays, so I went ahead and gained my holiday weight.

That’s just one less thing for me to worry about.

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Saturday’s Wandering Thought

When people talk about computers and advances in computing, Moore’s Law often comes up. If you don’t recall what I’m talking about, here’s a reminder:

The observation that the number of transistors on computer chips doubles approximately every two years is known as Moore’s Law.

Moore’s Law is not a law of nature, but an observation of a long-term trend in how technology is changing.

The law was first described by Gordon E. Moore, the co-founder of Intel, in 1965.

h/t to OurWorldInData.org

Well, I have a corollary to Moore’s Law, called Michael’s Law. It goes, “The more in a hurry you are, the slower your computer and the Internet will be.”

Maybe my law only applies to me. Perhaps there’s some computer god assistants somewhere watching me. Seeing me hastily scramble to the computer to search for information and then flee because I’m running late, the assistants notify the God in charge. “Michael is in a hurry. He should have left three minutes ago but he needs to look up the address on his computer.”

“You know what to do.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Just like that, my computer is bogged down, no reason given, leading me to curse the machine and the internet and my service provider, and the app being used or the website I’m trying to reach. It isn’t their fault, of course.

It’s just Michael’s Law.

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Little Updates

I previously wrote about a couple of coffee-shop regulars who disappeared. These were Austin and Ross. Now both are sort of back.

A reminder, Austin was a tall, fair man with red hair and hiking gear. When I first saw him in the coffee shop in late spring of this year, I assumed that he was off the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). Several trailheads are right by Ashland, and we’re use to hikers coming into town for supplies, mail, or a break.

But he hung around through the summer and into autumn, stopping by the coffee house several times a day. And then, he just stopped, but I also didn’t see him elsewhere in town. I wondered and worried: where in the world was Austin.

Well, he just walked in one day recently like nothing had changed. Something has changed, though; I see him walking around town now, but he doesn’t come to the coffee house as he used to do. Good to see him and know he’s well, but questions remain about that disappearance and why his habits have shifted. Not any of my business, of course; I’m just nosy.

Likewise, Ross turned up in the coffee house yesterday. He’d been banned for comments he was making to the staff and for disturbing other patrons with his economic and religious ideas. No other details are available.

I saw him come in yesterday and head to a table. Then he went up and ordered. A few minutes later, the shift manager went over and reminded him that he’d banned. Ross went albeit not without shouting, “At least say it with a smile, you fascists.”

So, he’s still banned but at least I now know he’s still alive and in the area. Like Austin, though, there’s a mysterious gap over the last few months, which is always fodder for a fiction writer.

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Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

I ended up talking to the baristas about my hair this morning. The conversation launched off their casual question, “What do you have going on today?” I mentioned that I needed to have my hair cut.

Showing sympathy and politeness, they talked about their own hair woes. Then one barista mentioned that he has one part of his hair that always flips up. Drives him crazy.

“A cowlick,” I answered, adding, “I have one, too.”

The young baristas stared at me. “A cowlick?” one repeated for the group.

I laughed hard from the blank look accompanying the question, and then explained the expression, learned from Mom when I was a young boy.

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