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.
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts
Bit behind schedule today. Arriving in my office with a fresh cup of coffee this morning, I peered out the window. The sun was highlighting blue skies over green, yellow, gold, and scarlet autumn leaves. Under it all across the street was an enormous, beautiful light brown buck, blacktail, with a large set of antlers. He was standing in the neighbor’s front yard across the street, not stirring much except to flip his tail or to look one way or another.
It’s rutting season, though, so I knew what was up. Expanding my watch (in other words, lowering blinds, leaning forward, and turning my head), I spotted a doe busy eating in dense foliage beneath a giant old oak tree. She was about twenty-two feet from the buck. After a few minutes, she drifted out of her spot and across the yard, sometimes nibbling, passing seven feet from the buck. He paid little attention, so I wondered if he was standing guard against an intruder. I didn’t see one, though.
The doe crossed the driveway and into another blind of bushes and trees. I saw her turn and go between two houses, heading towards the Talent irrigation ditch. Only then did the buck turn and stroll after her.
Show wasn’t over folks, just taken to the next scene. All told, I watched for fifteen minutes, just enjoying nature on a sunny, fall day.
Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts
This morning delivered light serendipity.
Waiting to turn, he was behind a silver third generation Toyota Prius and a current series Dodge Ram pickup, also in silver. Both turned left, and he did the same.
As the three accelerated down the boulevard, he checked the oncoming traffic: a silver third generation Toyota Prius, and a current series silver Dodge Ram pickup. From his angle, the two pairs of vehicles were identical.
He laughed as the cars and trucks passed each other, wondering if their drivers noticed what he was seeing and about the odds for this happening.
It would have been really freaky if a car like mine was behind the other two doppelvehicles coming my way, especially if the driver looked like me.
Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts
Someone said, “I’ve been watching Hallmark Christmas movies. I watched three yesterday.”
Surprise went through me. Had I missed Halloween and Thanksgiving? I replied, “What month is this?”
Another said, “We put up and decorated our first Christmas tree. We usually put up two, one in the living room window, and a larger one in the family room. That’s the one we put up.”
I was staring out at the sunshine and leaves. Many were still on trees, their chlorophyll declining, losing their green colors, letting other colors emerge. Autumn, in other words.
As others continued talking about their Christmas-themed activities, I thought, I’m really out of touch.
I’m still celebrating autumn.
Michael Seidel, writer 