Monday, August 11, 2014

The Anatomy of a Post

The Anatomy of a Post

Start out the day with the Morning Dog Walk. 

Stepping out of the house, I look East toward the ocean.  A little more than two miles away I can see the tops of the hotels and condos at the beach.  A red light glows over the tree line along with the top floor or three of those tower blocks.  They're welcome to it.  The beach can be fun, so can the ocean, but there's a certain something about living on a sandbar with one way out that makes me nervous.  NOAA says we get a tropical storm every two and a half years on average anyway. 

So when do you get a tropical storm on that half year?  Lies and statistics.

Rack has finished watering his favorite rock, and I look up for a friend.   She has been over that way, near the red light guarding the sandbar for most of the year, but she's getting more and more shy as time goes on.  Her name is Venus and she was left alone a while ago by her partner Mars.  He shot off toward the west months back and she's been fading towards the Bahamas and the Atlantic ocean beyond.

We go out looking for our own adventure.   Rack sees someone who he thinks he knows.  I'm never sure whether he sees the dog first or the person, but for no matter, it's merely a distraction.  We're trying to get our walk in.  I'm reminded of a topic and am walking aimlessly at that time of morning.

What was his name all those years back?  Jim's roommate in college?  Joe, I am sure of it.  At least it was the first year only.  He ended up with someone else for the next couple.

We're wandering back to home.  In the full light of the approaching Supermoon, I still can't tell whether he's true to his name, the Yellow Footed Herding Dog, or he's just clean.  We hit the dog wash station on the porch as I wash his feet.  We're plunged into the dark of the approaching dawn and it's time to head in.

More details as I am in the bathroom brushing my teeth.  I'm a lousy housekeeper, the little collection of brass figures on top of the medicine chest need to be cleaned.  Dust gets everywhere, the Sahara ocean leaves its mark on South Florida as everything needs to be washed down frequently.

I get through breakfast, letting the dog wander and water the backyard, and my own morning routine.  It's an early Sunday morning.  I'll be putting up a joke today.  No such thing as a day off, it's merely a slower day.  There are things yet to do.  All the "meta" things we all do, tasks that need to be done in order to do a task.  If you want to make an omelette, you have to break an egg.

I load up the last 80 web pages in tabs on the browser, answer the kettle.  Coffee time.  Settle back in for the mug and the morning.  Finishing all that it's time to check in and see if anything has Gone South, what has exploded.

Nothing.  I may as well go outside.  The internet is broken.  I'm up too early to disturb anyone else in the house, the sun has barely risen.

Pavlov, your dog is drooling.

I get up.  We all have a digital dial tone these days.  The Brrrrr in our ear isn't a wired telephone, too bad as I have a couple that are really quite nice. That has been replaced by the internet.   If that isn't up and running, things grind to a halt.  How do they think they can call themselves a utility if they can't keep the internet running?  Com-crap not withstanding, I hit reset by unplugging the cable modem.  Our internal network is still running.  One of the problems with listening to an internet radio is that when the internet crashes, the music stops.

Or more likely, that's the idea.  Music going means all is well.  Music stops, and we're sunk.  Run in panic like the crazy ants that live in the Mango tree's pot.  Lift that conch shell.  They'll run all over your arm in a panic.  No wifi?  Are you crazy trying to run a business without it these days?

Can I hop on the neighbor's connection?  Not with the Big PC.  I don't have their password any longer.  That machine I fixed for them has been re-imaged, and the password is gone.  Forget using a phone, that's insane trying to look at anything "production" on a browser on an Android phone that is only 2.8 inches across running a 5 year operating system.

Realize that the world hasn't come to an end.  I can write on a notepad.  Or rather Notepad.exe.  My spelling will be checked when I paste it all into Blogger later on.  I could do it live on my internal Website.  I've got Wordpress running here.

I hear stirring from the other room.  I'll pass the ball.  I don't have the phone number for...

"Hey do you know the internet is down?"

Yeah I had a feeling... "Gonna call Comcrap?"

A little bit later, all is right with the world.  I get the posting out.  I think I'll wear That T Shirt "I'm outside today because the internet is down."  Yeah, that's the ticket.  I should probably get that contact info for them.  Yet another magic bullet to the modem.

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