And call me in the morning . . .

Science does not ratify the 5 second rule for dropped food. Dropped is not clean, period. With the possible exception of M&Ms?

M&Ms aside, what does one do with dropped medication? Aspirin or Advil are easy. Toss and take another from the bottle, being more careful. But, what if the dropped pill is prescription medication? What is the protocol for handling dropped, say, antibiotic of which there is a set, finite dosage amount?

Personally, I treat 'em like M&Ms . . .

Our customer service represen . . .

I am a bit spoiled by the tracking systems of UPS and FedEx which state when and where a package is received by an interim facility. Then the systems let you know when the package is shipped forward and where it lands, next. The USPS provides less information: when they have the package and when the recipient does.

I have only lost one package after shipping. It was a knife sent back to Cutco for resharpening. Luckily I had insured the package and asked for delivery confirmation. So it really wasn't the post office who lost the package. Cutco did.

They sent me a brand new replacement . . .

Caesar's sidekick? Coca!

Today's crossword was a learning experience. We discovered that paeon is a real word and not an error. Indri is a lemur in Madagascar and the River Erne is in Ireland. Previously, I had thought that an Erne was a sea eagle, which it is, but knew of no other Erne.

Just incidentally, we knew that the Feast of Esther is Purim but were not sure it fell in the month of Adar. Now we know.

And just so no one has to look it up, paeon is a metrical foot composed of four syllables: one long and three short. Only one of them is stressed.

But, you knew that . . .

We receive the Scouting magazine even though the most recently anointed (so to speak) Eagle Scout in the (extended) family is at a university and soon to graduate. BigEd and S-the-Guru are other Eagles. J is the most interested party here. Being an Eagle himself and a volunteer for most of his adult life, this is understandable.

In this Scouting issue, there is notice of a commemorative coin for BSA which will, incidentally, raise money for the organization. He asked me to pull up the web site which was cited in the magazine article. I have to admit, the silver dollar is beautiful.

It will not be available until the 23rd of this month, at noon sharp. I know what I will be doing then, with him looking over my shoulder and wishing I could type even faster.

Ordering . . .

Where's my hour? Gimme back my hour!

I feel as if the red eye to California was the location of my last night's sleep. Talk about jet lag while not going any place.

Heartily dislike this time change!!!

Exactly so . . .

We used to know a really good window and glass place down off the Dixie. I could take anything there and be sure of bringing home the parts (or even a reglazed window) that we needed. Screens, too, for that matter. But Lee retired and sold the place. The new owners moved the business away, eventually. My good connection was lost.

Most of my errands at Home Depot have involved a guess that what I am considering in the genre of home repair is actually what we need. Ominously, the gear in one of our window closing mechanisms had begun to slip.

After enough annoyance at the situation had built up, I took the window operator along to HD to see if it was still being produced. I did call first and was told that the item (if they had one like mine) would be in the Hardware Department, on aisle eleven, not in the Window Dept. The gentleman sounded mildly annoyed, himself, that I had not known that.

In aisle eleven, there was a multitude of packages of window operating mechanisms. Immediately, I picked up one that had the handle on the wrong side. Aha, this was my first elimination factor. After finding one that looked like ours, I read the back of the package which told me to select by a different criterion. All the Screw Holes had to align with the old one. Good info.

More looking, comparing, and annoyance at myself. Evidently spacial comparision of hole position by eyeball is related to lack of a sense of direction. I am challenged in both categories.

I ended up by holding up the bottom of the packaged mechanisms to the bottom of the old one to see if light came through all the lined up openings. Many were called and one was finally chosen. In this one shining package, even the hole in the arm that attaches to the window was the same size as the one I carried in. I had not even considered that necessary option.

A conversation behind me called attention to a Home Depot employee who was attending another confused customer and this customer was a man. Feeling marginally better about my own situation, I asked the employee if he thought THIS ONE was the replacement for my in-hand sample.

"That is EXACTLY the one." he beamed at me.

Feeling as though he had applied a gold star to my forehead, I took the exact one home.

It was, too . . .

Oops . . .

Yesterday's post was deleted. The sad thing is that o1 Doc's comment was deleted, too. Delete, delete, delete. Dumb duh dum-dum.

That'll teach me not to try and blog with dilated eyes. Note to self: was that dumb? Answer to self: accidents happen but, yes, that that falls into a suspiciously brain-dead category.

Cold Murder . . .

If you like Tony Hillerman's mystery/police procedurals about the Navajo Tribal Police, I have a suggestion for you. (Hi, o1 Doc)

Stan Jones writes in the same genre about the Inupiat (Eskimo) people of Northern Alaska. The first in the series is White Sky, Black Ice. To the people of the far north, black ice on a body of water is the kind that you can fall through. The kind that kills you.

The main character is Nathan Active who is a full blooded Inupiat and also is an Alaska State Trooper stationed near Chukchi. He was raised by step-parents in Anchorage and his birth mother is in Chukchi. Chukchi is the far-backside of the beyond.

Jones and Trooper Active have a new aficionado, here.

Toughing it . . . out

Like a hermit, I really don't want to go outside. Not even stick my nose out the door, considering the wind chill. But, I need to make a routine visit to the pharmacy.

We will just see how tough I can be.

It may amount to a chorus of: not very. I can hear it now.

Withdrawal pangs?

With the Olympics over, why would I pour that first cup of morning coffee with the music of O Canada stuck in my brain? I found I was humming it as I poured.

Strange . . .

Tuesday Morning on Sunday afternoon . . .

This afternoon, I headed over to Tuesday Morning. We had received a flyer about a sale that starts on (wait, now) Tuesday and I wanted to see what kind of place it is before the sale.

It was as disorganized as any antique store in Abbeville, North Carolina. Which pretty much means that if you are looking for anything specific, good luck to ya. It was fun to browse.

My guys might not think so, but it was like treasure hunting. Wouldn't you think the hunter half of a hunter/gatherer duo would relish the challenge. But no.

That's why I went by myself . . .

Numisma - what?

Not being a collector of coins, there is no good reason why I should have noticed that the 2005 nickel had a different scene on the back. Instead of what I thought should be a view of the Capitol building, there was a seascape.

When I tried a magnifying glass on the coin, it did prove to be a seascape. It turned out to be part of a Westward Journey nickel series - information provided by Google.

That domed building on the reverse side of our usual nickel? It is not the Capitol. It is Monticello.

Duh!

Bronze

When I bent down to collect the morning paper, a gust of wind blew my hair inside out like a palm tree. I was looking through it when I stood up. It didn't take me long to hustle back inside. The wind chill was formidable.

A recent local windstorm snapped the trunk of a neighbor's ficus tree across the street and caused a tall schflera behind us to lean dramatically along the fence. I looked out to see if today's wind had toppled it further and it's gone. It either walked away like an Ent or our neighbor took care of it. It was rooted on his side of the fence: probably a present from a fence-sitting bird.

In the women's relay last night, the US Olympic team was so far behind they were out of our picture when the Korean skaters were disqualified. I told J this morning that even though our women won bronze by a fluke, they will brag about it all of their lives. But then, so will the Chinese women who took the gold when Korea DQed. It's all good, unless you are of Korean extraction. Depends on perspective, doesn't it?

Not you, not I . . .

While driving a car do you: Text (OMG)? Talk on the cell phone without a headset (meaning that there is only one hand on the wheel)? Talk to dumb drivers through your closed windows as you motor along? Use non-subtle gestures?

While riding in a car, do you assist the driver operate his/her vehicle from a passenger seat? Is your brake foot frequently pressed to the floor even though the brake pedal is on the opposite side of the car? Do you grab the flimsy handle above the armrest as though it might keep you from flying through the windshield in an emergency?

Do you lane-surf with your cruise control on? Cut off, or out, other vehicles? Make the decision at the last possible instant whether to take an exit, or not? Pull out into traffic and depend on the goodwill (reactions) of other drivers?

Are you driving on the streets of my city? I think so. I seem to see you every where.

No encounters, please . . .

Free coffee, too . . .

Surfacing, here. I've been submerged in the Olympic experience since the beginning. Vicariously, that is.

Yesterday, I did take the car in for it's recall visit. Turns out we were safe all the time. Our accelerator pedal design is not one of the ones recalled. But, an oil hose that can develop a leak was retro-fitted. The oil hose was a recall that only showed up on the computer when the tech entered the car's VIN.

Also, if the floor mats come loose from the fastener, the accelerator is high enough to remain clear. No worries. Yeah, sure.

We never take a vehicle to the dealership and walk away with no charge for the repairs. Funny feeling.

But nice . . .

How to raise and train a rose?

Yesterday, we gathered to celebrate J's birthday. After dinner, we went back to Zeta's and M's where we ate ice cream and cake. J received many thoughtful gifts and we (or at least I) ate too much.

At the restaurant, Adam and Veronica had given each of the ladies three Valentine roses. Last night, when we got back home, I filled an enameled roasting pan with cold tap water and submerged the roses in it. I cut an inch off the stems while they were submerged and weighted them gently so they stayed almost completely under the water.

This morning they are perfectly revived and fresh. I had read about soaking flowers and can testify that it really works. I am not sure whether the trick of not exposing the cut stems to the air is necessary but they are back to life and all three are in a bud vase. I hope everyone has as nice a time, today, as the roses are having.

Happy Valentines' Day.

One more little whine . . .

On the last (I promise) whiney note: I am checking this site every day. I intend to bombard AT&T with requests! That's enough, already.

Canada intends for the Olympics' opening ceremonies to appeal on an emotional level, quoth a representative Canadian on the Today Show. Hah! Good spin on not being able to muster as large a spectacle as China had done.

I am willing to be emotionally appealed to instead of astounded. I just hope they have enough snow. Amazing that the US wishes it could export some of the monster snowfall some states received this month, and Vancouver's is less.

Feast or famine, TV style

The Olympics begin this week. The OLYMPICS begin. The athletes look forward to this with more eager anticipation than we do. Maybe.

The newest Survivor starts on Thursday and the Amazing Race on Sunday. This is too much reality goodness for the DVR to stand. After all, Masterpiece is on Sunday, too. Add in the Heat games and we are in simultaneous-broadcast trouble. I suppose we will have to see if the VCR still works.

I do long for the future when . . . never mind. Enough whining about U-verse.

Y'all come

We (meaning the Camry and I) have an appointment at the Maroone Toyota place in Broward. It will take a while for the recall work and they offered to drop me off at Sawgrass Mills and come back for me later.

I did call the place on Dixie (which shall remain nameless) and they are not making appointments. First come, first served there.

A trip to the outlet mall might make the whole day more expensive than it is supposed to be. I'll have to consider how much I can save by spending.

I never claimed it was logical . . .

Can you hear me now?

Hello internet. I missed you today. You get a big (huuuuggg).

This morning, I called my ISP to inform it that the 'net and I did not connect at all. Network outage in my area, the automated voice told me. Working on the problem, the voice said, implying that I should go away and leave them free to work without interruption.

This afternoon, the automated system relented enough to let me speak with an actual person, named Andre. Andre told me our outage should be tamed by 3:45 p.m.

At 4:30 p.m., I called again and spoke to Marcus who had me plug the ethernet cable from the modem directly into the laptop, bypassing the router. Ah were awn the net.

Marcus told me there was something wrong with my router. I thanked him for the information and said I would contact the person who set up the router.

Then I shut everything down, disconnected the power and the ethernet cable from the router, reset it, powered back up, and guess what? I can talk to you, i*n*t*e*r*n*e*t. *

Hello beautiful . . .
___________________________________
* Asterisks inspired by The Education of Hyman Kaplan