Petsitting Ellie

It happens that the other day my neighbor Bill needed to have his apartment bug bombed.

Since his dog Ellie and my dog Rack are friends, I got to play petsitter.

You'd think it would go well but by the end of the day I remembered the old Bill Cosby sketch about the woman on a cross country flight with a child.  The kid was hyperactive and trying to meet and talk with absolutely everyone on the plane.  By the end of the flight the kid who managed to annoy just about everyone it met was asleep.  So everyone who passed by knocked the chair.  When the woman got off to meet her husband she knocked him out with a punch from the frustration.

It wasn't that frustrating.  Besides, you can get through most situations like this.  After all it's only one day.

The original plan was to leave Ellie in the backyard.  You see, Original Plans never are what end up happening.

It's summer here in South Florida.  The high yesterday was forecast to be above 90.  You can't leave a dog outside in that heat in clear conscience. 

I was getting all sorts of helpful hints from people who didn't realize that I was going to do what I thought was right for everyone involved.

Once the house was empty of extraneous personnel, I did what I thought was right.

First step.  Make sure the dog proof house was "strange dog proof".   I gave the place a once over.  Picked up the recycling from the floor.  Got that stray cheezy poof out of the corner, ran the vacuum, and closed off extra rooms.   That made life easier for me limiting where the two dogs could go.

Rack was going to be in the house as well.

Second step.  Ellie was in the backyard, tied to a long tether to the support beam to the Lanai.  She got here fairly early, and it was still what passed for cool here.  Low 80s in the shade.

I let Ellie in.   Rather, Ellie guilted me into letting her in.  She got lonely in a strange yard.   She really didn't understand this nonsense of being tide up for any length of time and was impatient.  I started hearing paws tapping on my back door.  It's glass.  I had visions of an 8 foot tall glass slab breaking and falling into the house. 

Ok so I exaggerate.

I parked myself at the desk next to the door so she could see me.  That just made her more insistent about coming in.

Third step.  The two dogs are now in the house.

She walked over to the parrot cage.  Knew something was going on but didn't see it.  Her nose told her what was up.  She just didn't look there.   Oscar, being a prey animal, didn't like the intruder so he barked at Ellie and flapped his wings.  That clued Ellie in.  The entire afternoon, every time she would pass Oscar's cage, Ellie would look up and sniff.

Oscar, you're not getting out time this afternoon.

If you have a dog, think back to the first day you had them.  The first day, the new dog will walk around and sniff everything.  Absolutely everything.  Then they will eventually mark territory.  Expect it.

What I didn't expect was how Ellie would do all of that.

Rack hid in his corner.  Ellie came over, sniffed him, moved on sniffing the house.  It would be about 3 hours before Rack would come out for that visit.  You see, Ellie is clearly an Alpha Dog.  That's fine, I rule this pack, I'm the Pack Leader.  I've got the chest for that T Shirt anyway!

Ellie having realized that Rack was happy being stuffed in the corner found me.  What I thought was friendly greetings of paw on my arm was a conversation.  By the time she stopped talking, I had a sore spot on my left arm from all that talking.  Gabby little woman, you are!

She got tired of talking and wandered off looking hungrily at Oscar on the way by.

You know that saying that parents have about the house being "Too Quiet"?  It was.

I walked into the main room.  There was a 10 foot stripe of recycled water going from one end of the house to the other.  My house was marked in the way that an elephant may use it's trunk. 

Rack still hid in the corner.

Grabbing mop, floor cleaner, bucket, and 130F Water I found that I got a clean spot in the grout after I was done.  I'll remember that for later!

Not a happy camper but I did expect it.  So THAT was what you meant by the paw on the foot.  No more water for you, Ellie.  She seems not to have an off switch with that.

I pried Rack loose of the corner, and left the empty Ellie to have free reign of the house.  When I went in for my shower, she didn't want to be left alone so she parked herself on the bath mat.  Awww, sweet, but in the way when I went to step onto the bathroom floor.

I'm lucky.  Having been a long distance inline skater, that's Rollerblades to you, I slid across the wet floor and into the hallway, careening into the door at around 10MPH. 

I'll leave the door closed next time.

Lunch time eventually arrived.  I told Bill what was up.  He filled me in on the whole Paw on the Arm signal.  Thanks Pal!  You could have told me earlier! 

Ellie was finally empty having been cut off from the water bowl after drinking and losing about a quart in the morning.  Really that's a new breed of dog called the sponge.  Soaks and leaks water where you least expect it.

I'll get that floor scrubber out later...

After Bill went back to his workplace, I had the two dogs free in the house.  Rack had stopped being so fearful and decided to come out to sniff around.  Ellie was bored.  Every 30 minutes she was in and out.  Rack wanted the yard too.

"In or out you two!"

I didn't expect to get anything productive done this day anyway.

Eventually it got so they started to play.  I had two hyperactive midsized dogs.  What were they going to do?

The Alpha dog trying to dominate the Beta Dog.  The Beta Dog doesn't know he's a dog and doesn't speak that language well so he would try to herd the Alpha.  My coffee table got circled about 40 times.  Herding instincts kick in.  Rack starts to nip at Ellie's heels.  Ellie didn't care for that.  Ellie would stop and try to coax Oscar's cage open just by using Eye Magic.  Oscar's wings were wide open, he was lunging at the cage bars and barking.

TIME OUT!

Rack goes into the bedroom.  I drag Ellie outside one more time.  Perimeter search, no wet spots!  Paws on two doors at once.  Rack hears UPS truck and starts to grumble.  Ellie wants to play.

We have arrived at Bedlam, population: 3.

Kevin gets home.  Two jumping dogs.  Rack backs down when commanded, Ellie tries to charge at the door.

Nope.  Her feet scrabble on the Florida Tiles in the dining room like a windup toy trying to get a purchase.  The ritual of getting Kevin indoors takes 5 solid minutes.   I finally just let go of Ellie.  I was safe in my chair and Kevin was down a dog.  

She runs across the room in a fawn colored dash sliding into the door at full force.

THUMP-jump-bark-jump-BARK!

I guess she likes you. 

15 minutes later I had enough.  Time out again.  I took Ellie outside.  It was now 6pm.  Bill would be home in about 15 minutes.  She'd have the last half hour outside.  Temperature was down to 83 in the shade.

Even Ellie had had enough, she just collapsed on the cool grass under the bougainvillea.

The big black pickup truck was rumbling home from a block away.  Bill got in.  As soon as I knew I could hear that large inline six cylinder engine, I noticed that Ellie was out back at the door rattling around sounding excited.  

The visit was ending.  It was time for normal again.

This Ends the Great Coffee-Out of 2014

I never believed in fasting.  That whole issue of taking off an arbitrary day from food for some arbitrary reason felt rather arbitrary.

I noticed, though, that I was having trouble sleeping.

No, that's not good.

So Why Not Cut Back on Caffeine?   Easier said than done.

I looked through the refrigerator and finished up all the "regular" sodas, drank my fill of that Iced Tea that I made up, and considered cutting out chocolate.

Nope.  Not Gonna Do It.

Then I stopped making everything.  No Iced Tea.  No Coffee.  No Espresso.

The next morning I felt it.  The whole day I went through caffeine withdrawal.  Not a happy place, really, it felt like I had a cold for some reason.  I guess coffee has a nasal dilator in it, I just don't know.  Miserable the entire day like someone just dampened everything. 

Take Two Aleve and call me in the morning.  Now "Buck Up" and Deal.

Deal I did.  I knew what was going on.  It was the Great Coffee-Out of 2014.

This was a lot for me.  I truly enjoy coffee.  I enjoy the ritual of making it.  The scents of the kitchen after you grind the fresh beans, pour the hot water into the grounds, stir it with sweetener and some cream.

Yes, I generally use those pink packets since they dissolve more fully.
Yes, I generally use creamer powder but I do keep real honest to goodness cream on hand.  That actually tastes too heavy to me but your mileage may vary.

I'm that guy who got tired of "bitter commercial coffee house mass market coffee" that tasted like battery acid or was over roasted, or whatever negative connotations you can possibly come up with in your first-world-problems mindset. 

... and I learned how to roast my own beans.  It really is easier than it sounds, gives an amazing "product" and can be markedly cheaper than even the worst rot-gut you can get in the supermarket.  I paid $2 a pound for beans once which worked out to about $2.66 a pound after roasting.

Home roasted beans that had a complexity I can only describe as hearing a CD the first time after only ever listening to an AM radio station that is about 50 miles away.

Hear that static crash?  Is it going to rain or is it just Starbucks with their crappy over-roasted "Burnt Beans".

Don't judge me, I didn't make that term up!

So the morning I write this I broke down.  It was a week, I wasn't trying to prove anything.  I wanted coffee.

I ground up 27 grams of beans, boiled the water, and poured it over the espresso grind coffee grounds for four solid minutes.  Stir in two packets of Sweet N Low and two teaspoons measured of creamer.  When time hit, I shocked it with four ice cubes to give me 20 ounces of savory, steamy, rich, complex coffee.

Great.  Take a Sip and...  OH HOLY CRAP!

What happened was my taste buds reset, and my body no longer craved the caffeine.  Now, addiction to a substance is partially or even mostly psychological.  I'm possibly having the coffee buzz because I *think* I should, but I am thinking of maybe having a run.  You know, a run from my house in Wilton Manors, two miles North of Downtown Fort Lauderdale ... to Key West.

Heck that's only 190 miles away!  YEAH!  Lets do it!  WOO!  GO TEAM!

Well maybe not quite that much.   I only had a few sips.  But WOW.

The flavor that was rich and complex before from the same batch I roasted now tastes intense.   I'd say the difference between a strong coffee and an espresso.

I'm feeling the coffee.  A little twitchy perhaps.   But you went through that too last time you had your first cup of coffee, you just don't remember it.

True to form, my heart rate jumped to 100BPM where when I write, it's usually around mid 70s.

Interesting stuff.  No matter what, I think I'll have a productive day.  At least the morning.  No second cup.  This tankard thing is a French Press that I drink from since it's also a double walled beer stein sized mug.

(sip)  Wonderful.  Come to Papa. 

We're going to have a great morning.  How about you?

Next time I get a deal though, I'll consider making my own blend of part decaf.  That's how I usually drink it anyway, I just ran out of the decaf beans.

Yeah, that's the story.  I ran out...

Raspberry Pi and Getting Raspbian Installed

Believe it or not, this little clear box sitting on a "bar mat" for a beer company is a computer.

The larger box to the right is only a USB hub.

That might have been more surprising five or so years ago, but I bring my own Big Computing Iron bias to the table. 

That little box is about equivalent to my own cellphone, an ARM based computer with an A7 single core processor.

It turns out that it is just enough to do some real computing.

While I have a tablet computer that is twice as fast, and a netbook that is probably a little faster, this little critter will be put to use, creatively.  I'm thinking it will make a great file server and web server.  Since it uses the same environment that I am used to, Linux, all the software will be familiar to me.

No, it won't run Windows.
No, it won't run Mac OSX or iOS.

It doesn't have to.  It runs Linux.

Ok, it does it a bit slowly but it runs it.  That itself surprises me in a credit card sized box but hey, I'll adapt.

My good friend in Atlanta, Craig had a spare since he upgraded himself to a Beagleboard and is considering a BananaPi once it comes out, so he dropped it in a box and sent it to me with some goodies.

So far, it's kept me engaged in trying to figure it out.

First thing first, you have to get an operating system onto it.  The RaspberryPi foundation says right out that they support Linux, and the flavor they support is a version of Linux called Debian, specifically "Raspbian".

Great!  I know that!  It works well, and I could set up a home computer with Linux that would make most people quite happy.  But how to get it running?

Download Raspbian to your computer.  The Raspbian distribution points you back to the download page at RaspberryPi.org where you can find a zip file of the operating system.

Inside the zip file you will find a ".img" file.  That's your whole operating system.  All of 806 Megs.  Everything about this computer is small.  Small is good. 

Unzip the file you downloaded and place the .img file somewhere you can remember.  You will need the tool to write it out to the Class 10 SDHC card later.

For windows, you need a program to write that to the chip.  Easy.  Download Win32DiskImager and install it.  Unzip the download of the file somewhere you can remember, and run the installer .exe file.  This is done by right clicking it and selecting "Run as Administrator".

Now that it is installed, you can run the Win32DiskImager. 

You need a Class 10 SDHC chip, at least 4gb, but 8 will do nicely.  Make sure that you find the mark on the chip that says it is a Class 10 - the mark is a number 10 inside of a letter C that I almost always mistake for a circle. 

Place the chip in your chip reader on your computer and wait for windows to find it.

In Win32DiskImager, select the correct drive letter for the SDHC chip.  This will vary per computer.  I have a built in reader that puts the chip at F: and I was using an external reader that put the one I really wanted at G: so be careful.  If you format the wrong chip, your data is gone forever.  Really.  Be careful.

At this point all you have to do is click on Write button at the bottom of the Win32DiskImager and the program will write the entire operating system to your chip.  Yes, it really is that easy.  The chip then becomes the hard drive for the RaspberryPi.

When Win32DiskImager is finished, safely remove the SDHC chip from the reader and place it in the chip slot in the back of the Pi.  The slot is next to the power connector which is a Mini USB plug.

You must have the RaspberryPi connected to a network to receive updates, and you will also need to plug the computer into a TV in order to see what you are doing. 

Connect the RaspberryPi to your wired Ethernet cable.  The jack looks like a wired phone jack. 

Plug the HDMI cable into a modern TV and the side of the Pi.  Turn on the TV and plug in the Raspberry Pi.  Find the correct HDMI channel on the TV set and you will see Debian begin to boot with a list of messages and a RaspberryPi logo at the top left of your TV screen.

The first time you run a computer, you usually see some sort of splash screen welcoming you to the computer.  With the RaspberryPi, the welcome is a bit more basic.  It brings up a menu that asks you to set up some basic things.  Don't worry if you mess that up, you can always run the welcome screen called "raspi-config" from a terminal window in Raspbian.

You will want to do the following steps:

Expand filesystem - this will let you use your entire chip.  Don't worry, it's simple, I took all the default settings.

Change User Password - It currently is "password".  Change it.  Your user is currently "Pi", and you can later research how to add "your user" on there, but Pi will work for now.

Enable Boot To Desktop/Scratch - You really will want to do things graphically if you are a beginner.  Select "Desktop Log In As User 'pi' at graphical desktop".   This is how you would expect things to run.

Internationalisation options.  Remember, it is a British computer, so it is set up for British English and Keyboard.  It also is confused as to where You live, so you need to reset that. 

I configured mine for "en_US.UTF-8.UTF-8" which is standard for US and worked with my old school IBM Model M clicky Keyboard.   

Time zone is US Eastern Time Zone and I used "America" and "New York" even though NYC is 1200 miles away. 

I know it's the same time zone, cut me a break!

There is also an advanced menu that you will want to visit. 

Advanced menu items I set were:

A3 Memory Split - I set 64MB for Video memory.
A7 Update - this is why you need Ethernet connected.  The Raspi will go out and grab the latest update for "this" program.  It's like the BIOS in your Windows computer.  It is stored on the SDHC Chip and will give you some changes here and there.  For example, the time set up dialogue changed to allow me to select a city instead of a specific time zone. 

At this point you can Finish and you will be sent on your way to the Raspbian desktop.

An Admiral and his Fleet are Out to Sea at War

An Admiral and his Fleet Are Out At Sea At War

An admiral at the head of his fleet is scanning the horizon for the enemy ships he's looking to destroy.
Seeing them crest the horizon, he tells his first mate, "Bring me my red shirt."

"Why, Sir?"

"If I am wounded in the fight, and the men see me bleeding, they may lose heart.
If I wear my red shirt into battle, that cannot happen. Now, bring me my red shirt!"

"Yes, sir!"

The Admiral continues to scan the horizon, and sees there are in fact ten times as many enemy ships as his own fleet has.
The first mate returns with the red shirt.

The Admiral turns to him and says,
"Bring me my brown pants."

Even More Mommy, Mommy!

Mommy, Mommy! I don't wanna visit grandma!
Shut up and keep digging.

Mommy, Mommy! Can I lick the bowl?
Shut up and flush.

Mommy, Mommy! I'm sick of learning how to swim!
Shut up or I'll flush it again!

Mommy, Mommy! It's cold and dark and damp down here.
Shut up or I'll flush it again.

Mommy, Mommy! I don't want hamburgs for supper!
Shut up or I'll grind your other hand.

Mommy, Mommy! I HATE tomato juice!
Shut up and drink it before it clots.

Mommy, Mommy! What's a vampire?
Shut up and eat your soup before it clots.

Mommy, Mommy! I don't like tomato soup!
Shut up, we only have it once a month.

Mommy, Mommy! I HATE spaghetti!
Shut up or I'll pull the veins out of your other arm.

Mommy, Mommy! There's something in daddy's eye!
Shut up and eat around it.

Trash Day Equals Weed Day

I'll admit it.  I'm an indifferent gardener. 

Bending over for hours at a time is difficult for most people, it's doubly different when you are taller than about 90 percent or more than the rest of the population.

So it's going to be done regardless of lazy grumbling or knees or something else that you can't quite put your fingers at.

Eventually that collection of rocks in front of the house that defines a parking space gets filled with random weeds that demands attention.  Seeds get caught on the winds from the neighbor's yard on the East side and land there.  They'll take root and you'll have to deal with them. 

It is usually the East side since there's a constant breeze coming from that side.  If the winds shift, duck and cover, Mom, there's a storm's a comin'!

As a chore, it's not my favorite.  That Florida Sun that you folks come down here for in February is a lot more intense in August.  While it's cooler here on average than in the big cities of the Northeast in the summer, it's not by much.

About three times a year, or more, it gets to the point where it's time for Chemical Warfare.  Fill a spray bottle with a toxic syrup and water mix, pump it full of air to pressurize it, and pollute the water table for the next generation to get rid of those weeds.  RoundUp.  Kills weeds, and we're not really sure how long it remains in the environment, are we?

I've come to terms with these weeds.  They pop up in the middle of the lawn, and under the hedges.  I'll usually take some time to go after them on twice weekly trash day, early in the morning.

Well it's early for you, I'm up an hour before sunrise anyway, may as well make it productive, right?

A good trash day is defined by how many trips I make it back to the trash cans.  Pull the weeds starting at the can on the swale, and work outwards.  That means that those areas in the back get the weedeater treatment.

Now mind you a weedeater can be a fun piece of equipment to use.  If you can get it started, that is.  Mine takes about a solid half hour of pulling on a cord to get the thing to start.  Tune-up you say?  Probably.

Once it's started, a snarling two-cycle motor sputters to life.  Churning through the weeds that have grown thickly under the Jasmine hedges and under the bottoms of the large fruit plant pots in the back yard, I'll attack.

By this time all sorts of critters that belong there, lizards, snakes, and frogs, have headed elsewhere.  My dog inside the house has retreated to a cozy corner to hide from the din, and flocks of birds have launched noisily to get away from the madness. 

It's clearcut time in the forest!  Run, Bambi! Run!  Down to the dirt.  Except...

There's irrigation lines down there.  Stop what you're doing.  Time to unwind the rubber tube from the bottom of the weed eater's string head.  The machine is stopped anyway, wrapping itself in a double helix of water delivery.   Mutter a few words at the appliance and your own forgetfulness since you could have picked that water line up couldn't you?

It's about now that your friends come to visit.  Insects stirred up from the noise and vibration of the harvesting of the weeds are rising to greet you.  Your pet Mosquitoes have come by for a meal at the diner of you.  It's easier to just walk around the yard while you're trying to get the weedeater started again.  At least it's warmed up.

But eventually it's all done and settled.  There's just one last white flower with a yellow head in the middle.  Pull those gently.  There's a root on those that looks like one of those thick ginger roots you see at the supermarket and can't quite figure how much of that to add to your meal to give it a little extra tang.  If the root snaps off, you'll have flowers back in a month.

Snap.

One month later, it's time to get the weedeater out.  Start over again.  After all, it's trash day isn't it?  What's a little weeding between friends? 

It's the cycle of gardening.  You pull, we'll make more!

Sometimes a Victory Can Be Found in a Trashbag

Stepping outside into the pre-dawn gloom, we check to make sure everything is in its place.

I look over my shoulder, see Venus in the skies over the neighbor's palm tree.  Mercury, or at least what should be Mercury, is lower, closer to the yet to rise sun, and slightly to the North.  Nobody is around except the stars in the skies.   You can always spot Orion's belt.

What I can't spot is anyone.  It's too early for anyone sane to be awake.  That's why we're out.

Rack sniffs and then waters the post in front of the house, then his rock, and we're on our way.

For some reason, he's wound up.  It won't be an off the leash day for us.  That youthful puppy energy has tempered somewhat, but it is still there.

We finally spot a car off in the distance, but it disappears quickly. 

Strange how that can be.  When you are used to the sound of the far off train whistle, the air compressors, that box truck that passes by every morning delivering snack cakes from the plant, their absence is like silencing a key on a piano and then trying to play a song.  It's not quite right.  It's different.

We pass the bars and the shops.  Nobody is out.  The gym was open, but nobody was home.

Rack isn't interested in anything here.  He's pulling to get off the Drive.  The trauma of the 50 bus wasn't happening this morning, you're out of order.  But he doesn't realize it so I keep him on his leash.

The last thing I would want to do is have him wander off.   If I drop his leash these days, he immediately comes back, gluing himself to my legs.  Loyal little guy, if a bit uneven in his performance.

There's the travel agency, but even that is empty.  Strange to say, but I look forward to walking past that place.  There's a friendly person in there who is working the same hours as my dog walk, early.  We usually wave to each other but not today.

Even the radio was turned off at the pizza shop.  I have a feeling that whoever cleans the place up at night is a sports fan.  No sports today leaking incongruously from the windows where food was served hours before.  It should be time to start warming up that oven.  Pizza likes a hot oven with no cold spots.

Rounding the corner, it's time to finally leave the Drive.  Into the bowels of the big apartment building's space, I drop Rack's leash.  I get a smile and wag as he looks back at me.

Happy dog, finally off leash where it is safe.  Or so he thought.

There is a round open room that serves as a plaza and entry to the space bounded by the buildings and some parking for residents and shops.  We pass through there most mornings.  It's a convenient way for us to walk the distance and be away from other distractions.  I can work a little more with Rack, get him more accustomed to the ballet of the walk without the leash.  It helps when we're out on the leash.

He looked around the corner as he was trotting out of the little plaza and froze.  Solid.  I looked around the corner and saw nothing worth mentioning.  So much for the off leash training.  Better to pick it up when he's seeing something he thinks is important.

Come on, let's go. 

Falling behind me, Rack was fixated on that evil that had been left there.  I smelled it before I should have.  Reeking of stale cigarettes, the white trash bag had been abandoned near the door to the elevator entryway. 

We got closer, and Rack was certain that this bag was going to come to life, thereby embracing him with the stench of a thousand cigarette butts.  Forget the old banana peels, even I could smell the thing. 

We were still a good 50 feet away, I guess the wind was just right. 

Passing a little cut through so the tenants could walk to the parking area, Rack gave the Universal Canine Signal for "Nope".   He tried to veer off the sidewalk and as far away from the object as possible.

At that point we were getting quite close to the bag.  Rack's normal nature of a fearful dog was showing its muzzle.  Each step, Rack would hide on the far side of me.  I had to coax him closer with each step.  We were about 3 feet plus a leash away from the bag.

I sidled next to it.  Rack was leaning as far as he could away from it.  I wasn't yielding any ground.  This was a bit more irrational than his normal.

Whatever that is.

Come on Rack!  It's oh-kayyyy!

4 feet.

You're doing fine!  It's not going to bite!

3 feet.

Good boy, you can do it!

2 feet.

He was no longer leaning away but getting closer.  Curiosity may have killed a cat, but a herding dog always will investigate if they think it is safe.

1 foot.

It's alright, Rack, what is it?  It's just a trash bag.

Success!  Rack had taken the initiative to sniff the trash bag.  With a wag of the tail that most others wouldn't have noticed, we trotted off into the morning.

So why was that important?  Conquering fears is always important.  A fearful dog may never otherwise get past that sort of fear.  People can get caught up in their on phobias, so much so that "living in mom's basement" is a nice way of describing a catch-all of social skills that aren't quite honed. 

You have to introduce the fearful to the same thing that will otherwise paralyze them and done correctly, success will be seen. 

Even if it is just a fearful dog sniffing a trashbag, a victory can sometimes be found there.

Frogs at Dawn

When I was a wee brat in the prairies of South Jersey, we used to explore the nearby woodlands.  I lived near a small river, or "Crick" in our way of speaking, and there was a pond that fed it.  There was a spring that fed the pond and we had lots of things to explore. 

Nothing like telling a kid that if you toss a rock at some Skunk Cabbage, it will smell bad so don't do it.

We did it.  All the time.  Ew.

We would go out in the wrong kinds of shoes, get covered with a thick layer of mud, root around looking for the Salamanders we were promised we would find there and never did.  Turtles were everywhere, and of course, frogs.

Green Leopard skinned creatures.  Completely harmless.  Kids would practice catch and release because once we got them, we really couldn't think of anything else to do with them.  The turtles were a bit more exciting because they could snap and bite so "Don't get your fingers too close to that mouth or else!".

One time Icky and Mark caught a snapper turtle that was as big as a hubcap.  Ornery critter that wanted to tear some of us apart.

I was not thinking about any of that this morning.  I was sitting in the chair debating breakfast.  It was an hour still before sunrise when I heard some rattling around out the back window.  I'm used to that.  We have lizards that crawl into the mounts for the hurricane shutters and think it's their home.  You'll hear some scrabbling around when they wake up in the morning, and some more scrabbling when they return at night for shelter.   I'm fine with lizards.  The ones we have here are harmless.

Right in a lull of the music I was playing I heard a sound that was like what you hear when you drop a steak on a counter.  Like someone slapped some meat on my window. 

Looking over my left shoulder I looked and didn't see the culprit and went back to opening and closing web pages and mulling over whether I should have strawberry or pineapple jam in my yogurt.  All the important things in life, right?

When I heard it the second time, I spotted something on the window.  A distant relative of an old childhood friend.  You guessed it, there was a frog stuck to the glass on the outside of the window.  The sun was starting to think about rising.  There was a purple gloom in the skies that backlit that creature.

So why not, lets go out with the camera and see if we can annoy a frog!

The little thing didn't like my own bulk approaching it.  As I got too close, it started to move on the window away from me.  It was on the glass, and the screen was on the other side.  It was stuck to the window as Frogs would do. 

I got the second shot and it started walking away.  Who would really want a strobe light flash at just before sunrise? 

The camera wasn't smart enough to see the frog in the light, it was telling me that it was a low light so I shifted around and got the final picture when it realized it could focus.

At that point the frog was gone out of my life just as quickly as it came into it.  It had had enough.  I heard the bougainvillea arbor rustle and it left.  I had my pictures and I didn't have to worry about sliding into the mud by the pond on the little creek. 

Walking into the house, it was time for breakfast.  I think Strawberry jam will do the trick.

Yes, the View Really Is Different Up Here

I found out that my high school class was having a reunion in a couple months. 

I won't be there.  It's just not in the cards.  The trip is too far, and so forth.  Wouldn't mind, but it's just not going to happen. 

It got me thinking about those things, reunions.  They're great for getting caught up with what happened, but someone said that after a while they become a party for finding out who had just died in the last five years.  After all, you keep in touch with those who mean the most for you, and while you have good intentions, those connections fray after not seeing people.  The Prom Queen and King may have been the most important friends you had ever had when you were in those hallowed halls, but move away, and they fade to black.

Cue the picture of the old school tv set with a dark screen and a white dot fading into the past.

There were some friends I had in high school that I did keep up with for years after graduation.  Some even made it into college with me and into later life.  Jim was one of those people.  He was probably one of the most gentle people I had ever had the pleasure to meet.  When I made it to Drexel University, his room was about three floors below me in the same dorm, Kelly Hall.

Kelly Hall was this concrete block slab that overlooked the campus from a high point on a hill.  If you were lucky enough to have the right window, you had a panoramic view over the train yards, past Fairmount Park, and Center City Philadelphia beyond.

I can't say I remember my view being all that spectacular, and neither was Jim's.

Since many of our classes were the same, we'd hit the books together when his roommate wasn't there.  The little 12 by 8 room made out of highly painted concrete blocks wasn't made for comfort, but utility.  Late Teenage Boys can be incredibly destructive.

It did help to have him there, studying on Chemistry, Calculus, and various Computing courses, so we spent a lot of time there.  Eventually our classes diverged, but our visits didn't. 

He did have a roommate there, Joe.  Joe didn't have any classes or common interests there so he was not in the room too much.  Nice enough sort, he eventually became a Resident Advisor for a while.  Not really sure what that gave him other than being the guy in the hallway that they paid somehow to listen to guys complaints. 

But he did have the patience for that sort of thing.  Listen to complaints, act on them, and generally be involved.

One of those days toward the end of a term, he stopped me.  He said that he could always tell when I was in the room that day.

"How on Earth can you tell?"

Now Joe was a full foot shorter than my own 6' 4".  Not that there is anything wrong with that, mind you.  But Joe had something of a valid complaint.

"Every time you are here, everything is moved out of reach!"

We all had a chuckle out of that, but I had to explain "It's part of the territory, it's a tall guy thing.".

I realized he wasn't getting it so I noticed a chair.  When I told him to stand on it, he did so reluctantly.   We stood eye to eye for once.

"Now, look around the room.  What do you see?"
"Wow, it really is different up here"
"You're right, it is.  I'll try to make it a point not to move things, I'm not doing it to annoy you".

From that point on we became a bit closer friends.  I stopped putting the snacks out of reach, he didn't have a complaint.

The crowd moved apart after that.  We all went on Co-Op and when we came back, Jim moved back to his family home in Medford, NJ.  We didn't see each other in school all that much more.  With a changed major, and the discovery that the dorms really weren't as good as the basement of the library for cram sessions, things became more focused for the eventual graduation.

This story came to mind with the coda that Jim's gone.  He passed a couple years back.  A good friend who died in a car crash on an icy South Jersey road in Winter.  Another good reason not to like Winter, it takes good people away.

Even if they do put things on the high shelf.

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.