Tag: technology

The Wake Up Ping

WARNING: It’s ‘nother first world blues rant.

I don’t usually keep my phone near me when I’m in bed. Had a lifetime in the military, along with my time in marketing. People always wanted me immediately available.

Well, no longer! It’s one of the declarations of independence I made when I retired from all that work stuff. The phone stays in the other room.

Except, yesterday, it didn’t. I wasn’t feeling well. My car was in the shop for routine maintenance. I was waiting for them to call or text to tell me it was ready. So I had the phone on my nightstand.

They called about four-ish, asking if they could keep it overnight. No, nothing major found; they were just short-handed and overscheduled.

Shrugging it off, I agreed, sure. “Call me in the morning when it’s ready.”

I went back to sleep, off and on, and forgot about the phone.

Until six AM this morning.

The phone pinged with a message. In irritation, I thought, sisters. That was more a matter of my mood than anything. My sisters have habits of getting up early and sending texts early. They’re on the east coast of the US, so they’re three hours ahead of me. Texts that they’re sending at 8 AM are pinging on my phone at 5 AM.

But it wasn’t my sisters.

Nor was it the car repair shop.

No, it was Google Health, formerly known as Fitbit.

Google Health pinged me awake at 6 AM to tell me that I didn’t have a good night of sleep.

Sure; that made total freaking sense.

As Mom often grumbles, “Those so and so’s.”

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A Bulb Tale

More first world blues!

I barked out a laugh.

My wife absently asked, “What’s so funny?”

We were in the home office, each quietly doing computer things. Sitting back, I turned my chair to face her. “You know how that garage door light bulb went out?”

The background: there’s a light that goes on when you press the button to raise or lower the garage door. It was no longer going on.

She nodded, waiting for me to drop the other shoe.

“Well, when you were out the other day, I replaced the bulb. That didn’t fix it, though.”

“Oh,” my wife said.

“Anyway.” I gestured at the computer. “I figure, must be something else. So I’m researching online. One of the things I came across was that I should use a light bulb specifically made for garage door lifts.”

My wife frowned. “What?”

I laughed. “Exactly. We’ve lived here twenty years. I think I replaced the bulb one before. I replaced our Half Moon Bay garage door light one time. I’ve never bought a special bulb for it.”

“Why would the garage door need a special bulb?” my wife asked.

“It’s supposed to be ‘more rugged’.”

She and I both laughed. “I think that’s crap,” she said.

“I agree,” I replied.

We returned attention to our computers.

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More First World Blues

My wife lost her phone.

So, I’m changing information in online accounts. The procedures were all originally all set up for us do online — technological DIY, if you will — back in the Internet’s infancy. Since then, the net has been terrorized by security threats and thefts.

Anway, the saga begins…

I log into my account. Navigate to my profile. Go to the phone numbers. Try to change the number.

Can’t!

Because I have already added that number.

I attempt to delete that number.

Can’t!  

In order to do that, they want to text me a security code on the number I’m attempting to delete because the number is no longer valid.

Yet, that’s listed as the primary contact. I can’t move the other name up. It has a strange, inexplicable logic to it.

No other options are available online. My only choice is to call them and explain it all.

It’s a technological catch 22.

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First World Blues: The Phone Saga

I entered the house.

My wife looked at me with hope. “Did you find my phone?”

“What?” I asked.

She explained. She’d called and left messages. She’d lost her phone.

My phone never rang.

After cursing that, I examined my settings. The phone should have rung. It’s possible it rang and I didn’t hear it.

Anyway…

My wife lost her phone. She thought it happened at the coffee shop. I called them to ask if they had found it. They looked all over as I called the number.

“No, sorry,” Katie told me.

We drove over to the coffee shop to look for ourselves. No sign of the phone.

Then I got a phone call from her phone. Children were making a prank call.

I tried talking to them. I offered a reward. I texted them with an offer to buy the phone back.

No response.

After two days of trying, my wife accepted, the phone was gone. She needed to cancel the service for that number.

She called the support center.

A bot answered. It explained it was a bot and asked her what her problem was.

My wife explained the situation.

“Hold on,” the bot said. A few minutes later, it came back on the line. “Can you explain your problem again please?”

My wife did.

“Please hold,” the bot said. “I’ll be right back.”

The back came back and suggested, “Turn your phone off and on.”

“No,” my wife replied. She explained again: she did not have her phone. Her phone was lost. She needed to cancel the service.

“Hold on,” the bot replied. It went away. My wife listened to hold music. The bot came back: “Turn your phone off and on.”

“That won’t work,” my wife answered. “Let me speak to a human.”

The human had her sorted in thirty seconds. If she had spoken to the human in the first place, the call would have been under a minute.

Instead, she was forced to endure having a bot tell her, “Turn your phone off and on.”

AI.

Right.

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Friday’s Theme Music

Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, July 24, 2026.

It’s a hot, sunny day. 85 F now, 95 later. But the air is free from smoke.

Fasted last night so I could go get some blood tests done today. So then went off and ate breakfast after that was completed.

Then the morning got a little complicated. My wife lost her cell phone. Children found it and wouldn’t return it. Yes, rewards were offered. She didn’t have the phone locator turned on, a choice she made years ago but now regrets. She also didn’t set up phone security. Fortunately, she used it for nothing except texting, games, and phone calls.

BUT —

It was the primary number for receiving security texts for different accounts. So I’ve been going through the very painful process of changing that number with several companies. It isn’t just ‘log in and fix it’; it’s log in — or, call us. Give us your name, DOB, address, social, UserID. Now, take a photo of both sides of your driver’s license. And a selfie. Now hop on your right leg three times, turn in one complete circle, spit toward the sun, and declare, “New phone number” three times.

Classic first world blues.

It’s pretty apparent these days that Trump’s shallow thinking has exhausted its ability to come up with new ideas. Deeply into repeating himself, Trump is inflicting new tariffs on us (even though the US is projected to refund $85B in tariffs and our customs duties receipts are negative $26B in June) and trying to add his name to another building as part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!

Not surprising, given Trump’s flat ideas and bullying leadership style, Trump is losing staff. Those he chose who were approved by the Senate are escaping while they can. Could be that they know that the mid-terms are looking like another Trump disaster — like:

No worries; he’s not.

We’re becoming the land of the poor, sick, and broken under Trump. According to a Harris Poll, 95% of U.S. adults believe the country is facing a severe affordability crisis.

Still living in a fantasy, Trump thinks the next president will have it great.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

The other way that we can take this quote is that Trump made another Freudian slip. He’s actually acknowledging that he’s doing a shit job, and that anyone after him will look much better in comparison.

Given his declining physical appearance and the way he often babbles, I wonder if he’ll be alive to see the next Oval Office inhabitant.

Maybe Trump will pull a Mitch McConnell. That might be even why the GOP isn’t trying very hard to prove Mitch is still alive; they’re testing the waters to do the same with Trump.

Today’s song came to me as I was driving and thinking, returning home from my lab visit. I had the radio off, thinking about my dreams from last night. With my daily routine shifted, I thought, “Come up for air.” From that, “Miracle Mile” by Cold War Kids began playing in my morning mental music stream.

May the season’s winds carry you to a happy, healthy, and safe future.

Cheers

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The CIA Dream

I was working in marketing again, as I had for several years in real life. I was about the same age as well, early 40s, after retiring from the military.

Just returning from a long trade show, I went to my office and opened my cabinets to put things away. There I found that someone had been delivering food to me! Much of it were three by three inch cubes with Kanji on them. The wrappers were white, with either a red, green, or blue.

They totally mystified me. I questioned others, where did the food come from? Who brought them? No one could say.

I figured out through examination that the colors on the cubes represented fish, beef, or dairy. That amused me but needing my space, I began clearing them out.

Next I found bags of candy. Like WTF? Then cans of soup and containers of melted ice cream.

I couldn’t believe it. Why would someone put that in my cabinet?

A female co-worker came by and explained that the same thing had happened to her. It was part of some lunch program. We didn’t go in to get our food, so they delivered them to us. We weren’t there, so they put them away for us.

“But ice cream?” I protested. “That doesn’t make sense. Also, how much food do they think I need? There must be weeks worth.”

I was amused more than I was angry.

While I was cleaning, basically trying to do with this food, I kept getting summoned to meetings or interrupted by people coming by.

Two of the people who came by were CIA agents. Or so they said.

Male, dressed in suits, with ties. They wanted a favor.

Something was being installed. It was down on the ground floor, outside. They gave me a red and white placard. A white 5 was in the middle.

“Just put this on the cover of what they make. That’s all you need to do.”

Sure. Why not? Made no sense but did I care? Not really. I was too busy with other things to wonder about this strange venture.

Resuming my cleaning, I was almost done when two more men – white, in suits – stopped by. They identified themselves as part of the CIA. These two wore sunglasses.

I wondered, is this a joke?

One explained, “There is new construction being completed downstairs.”

The other held up a white thing. Basically resembled a white tent peg. “We want you to put this about a foot behind the construction, about a foot to the right. That’s all you need to do. We’ll do the rest.”

I repeated all that because it made no sense.

Then I asked, why are you asking me to do this?

“We’ve seen your records,” the first said, as if that explained everything.

I figured he meant my military records, and all those security clearances, and just accepted it.

Later, I did what the two pairs of agents asked. Privately, kind of secretly, ensuring no one was around to witness it.

Then I laughed as I walked away.

Dream end.

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Medical Update

Feeling fine, looking good.

Went through my annual physical on Tuesday, and all seems well. Blood work will be done next week to reveal what’s going on under the skin.

I went through the TURBT procedure for bladder cancer in late June. Next steps are the BCG wash. My urologist first said it would start in July, maybe August.

I mentioned this to my PCP on Tuesday. She was surprised. “Oh, they’re doing them? There was a nationwide shortage.”

Oh.

Forward to today. The BCG wash won’t start until the end of October.

The reason: a nationwide shortage of BCG. The United States has one source, a Merck facility. They’re trying to increase production but that won’t be successful — if it happens — until the end of 2026.

This is only a US issue:

The BCG shortage in the United States has been primarily due to a reliance on a single manufacturer, Merck, which produces the TICE strain of BCG. This dependency became critical after Sanofi Pasteur ceased production of the Connaught strain in 2012, leaving Merck as the sole supplier for the U.S. and many other countries . In contrast, other countries have access to multiple BCG strains produced by various manufacturers . In the U.S., the stringent FDA approval process has limited the availability of foreign-produced BCG strains, contributing to the prolonged shortage.

I’m simultaneously happy that the BCG wash is available and I have the means to have the procedure and frustrated by this continuing trend in the US. We become dependent on one source, and live and die by it.

It’s not just BCG; an article I read the other day recounted the US shortage of 155mm howitzer shells:

Manufacturing woes hamper US 155-mm ammo production

Businesses love to consolidate, buying up competitors, merging to ‘improve production’. Rarely works. Instead, we find ourselves more and more with just one location, putting all our trust and faith in them.

We often won’t modernize infrastructure until it reaches the brink of failure.

And in the US, we tend to wait to earnestly fix things until a crisis is clear. Witness what’s going on with Lake Meade and the growing water shortage. Even there, instead of actively addressing the problem, the Trump administration is paying to reduce consumption.

Something to think about as news and entertainment companies continue to merge.

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Tiny Newcomer

I took a break from writing to walk around outside. As I went, I thought, gosh, I don’t see any deer. In the spring and winter, there’s often five to nine hanging around the cemetery. In the spring, I typically encounter three or four eating in a yard somewhere or crossing a street. Just the other day, when it was cooler, I found three young bucks in a yard, chilling in a plum tree’s shade. Today, nothing.

Then — across the street from the coffee shop is a house. And there, by the front steps, I saw my first deer of the day.

I offered a silent prayer to the world to help this little one have a good, healthy life while wondering where mama was, hoping she was near — which is what I suspect — and would soon return.

It’s a gentle reminder among the streets, politics, and technology, about how basic and beautiful life can be.

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Hilarious Trump News

If you need a little smile, read this piece from the Daily Beast.

Trump, 80, gets roasted by a hologram in pep talk gone wrong

An artificially-generated President Theodore Roosevelt managed to get in a few barbs at Donald Trump on Wednesday as the 80-year-old president sought to appropriate some of the 26th president’s glory.

After traveling to North Dakota alongside that state’s former governor, Interior Secretary Doug Burgum, to open Roosevelt’s presidential library, Trump was filmed interacting with an AI version of his predecessor, who had no choice but to talk to him.

~snip~

These are my favorite paragraphs. Teddy is responding to Trump after Trump talked about Teddy’s greatest achievement:

“The Panama Canal showed what America could achieve if we held steady and acted fast when the world dragged its feet. That said, I measure my greatest work by the lives improved, parks set aside, food and drugs made safe, the Square Deal given to all—not just to a few,” it told Trump, who has made sweeping budget cuts to the National Park Service.

The Trump administration has also made cuts to the Food and Drug Administration, which some critics argue will increase the chances of unsafe products being purchased.

Trump didn’t get it at all. Thinks he’s like Teddy and will go to his grave telling himself he is.

Like so many other nuances, it’s all beyond Trump.

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Sunday’s Theme Music – Alright

Ashland, southern Oregon — Sunday, June 7, 2026.

Terribly deep blue sky is out there, reflecting the front capping the valley. Clear and sunny, the temperatures are hovering in the mid 50s F but are on their way up to 70.

I’ve been running into friends who have ‘heard the news’ about my bladder cancer. They get the look and posture of concern. Ask how I am, offer to do things for me, all those things that we do. I love the support but dislike the attention.

Of course, it’s more than me. Most of my friends have lost friends and family to cancer of different kinds. They carry that weight.

Mom’s house is still being cleaned out. Gina sent a photo of Mom’s empty closet. Mom’s closet was always tight with clothes but impeccably organized. She had a thing with hangers, using different types of hangers for different materials and needs, a process born from years of life, routines, plans.

Habitat for Humanity is closed to donations in that area. Gina is paying Goodwill to come, take the furniture out, haul it away. The sales of some other furniture, purses, Corning Ware, fans, and electronics will cover those costs. The clothes are being given to various area charities. The irony is that the cost is about $600, which is almost as much as Mom paid for that furniture twenty years ago.

To have a life reduced to dollars and cents.

I have thoughts on Trump today, gleaned from new articles, but I’m running late. My wife arose early to continue cleaning the refrigerator. I couldn’t stand by and not help. It’s all done now, and yes, looks great and was worthwhile to do.

The music in today’s morning mental music stream is “I’m Alright”. Kenny Loggins wrote and performed it. The song was used as the theme music for “Caddyshack”, a movie with Bill Murray, Rodney Dangerfield, Michael O’Keefe, Ted Knight, and Chevy Chase that came out in 1980. It also starred a groundhog.

We were stationed in Japan shortly after that. Home video players were just hitting the market. We bought one and would go down and buy bootleg recordings of movies like “Caddyshack”. Then the USO at the base main gate opened a video rental business where we could rent videos for a dollar. Pause to reflect, that was over forty years ago. Where did the time go?

Hope your weekend is going well and is full of more happy peaks than low valleys.

Cheers

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