Saturday, November 21, 2009

And the Big White Question Mark in the lower tray did, indeed, answer THE question. (see yesterdays post)

The results?

Well, remember, I’m using the new Windows 7 program. I know, from casual news reading, that Microsoft is in perennial battle for computer programming market shares and Google is gobbling massive chunks of what is available, Firefox is sucking wind and the others (at least in the US) are starving (In relative terms).

So, it was with some surprise that the Big White Question Mark dealt with my camera problem by saying, paraphrased; this program does not contain Windows Photo Gallery, you will have to find another provider to serve that function.

Micro Soft?? You actually put that statement in the Help And Support Section? Really?

Congratulations.

It is a good thing my sense was to down load Picasa 3.5 the same day I purchased Windows 7. I couldn’t explain why, as I’m not overly fond of Picasa (its greedy). But I did, immediately after finding out how to access the Web on the new install.  

And down loaded the pictures.

This one happens to be from the cash-out counter of the Deli I write about from time to time. The Deli whose owners came in from Buffalo NY.

I believe Buffalo NY is a real place, having some very distant relatives from that area. The folks are somewhat different there. Some where in the extremities of the region the Stop lights have a habit of being shot out if the Green “Go” light in the traffic control lights is on the bottom of the stack.

Highly partisan and suspiciously non-PC.

Having said all of that, and having looked again at the picture, I wonder me, the migration of the owner of the Deli coming to my fine State of Kansas to open a NY Pizza Parlor.

(For those that missed it – the lights are green, the pumpkins are orange. No! I won’t explain. Go read Irish history.)

Typically Deli.

That grill, as tiny as it appears, churn’s out some very good food. The rest of the back bar area consists of ovens (I told the man I didn’t want pictures of those. Watching pizza bake wasn’t inspiring.) and work spaces for processing pizza and take-out orders.

The joint is fairly well organized. Nice eating area’s and an old porch has been reworked to serve as an area for food and beer garden (enclosed, winter proof, two tables only) for the social drinkers. The hard core boys stay at home to drink. Small town ways are slow to change.

**

Some few years back, and the fellow is still among the blogging poker players, a player would wager all of his stack except one chip. He called the play after his screen avatar name sake. He is also,  a decent player. There was developed a “Reverse” play; developed and called the Reverse xx.

Yeah.

Anyhow, Friday morning, between lazy and fretting with the pictures and question marks, I drifted by Poker Stars for a few hands.

A Euro player in the one seat pulled the All-In Except One Chip play.

He won. Doubling.

He tried it again in a hand or so. And won again.

He left several hands later. He lost everything.

Except one chip.

I wished I could remember the blog address of Hoy, if that was the maneuver. Or was it the Hoyesa? Or . . well, the dude left before I could gather my wits.

It was early, after all.

_____

From the reaches,

Ten Mile

Friday, November 20, 2009

Well, gum drops.

Nothing seems to be working as I – Me – assume it should.

Yesterday, after the computer repair man left, I went for a drive to settle my nerves. That and relieve the stress of the close association with another being for too long a duration. Which might be a root cause for my inability to tolerate large gatherings. Any how, I went, and I took some pictures.

This morning in response to an email from http://www.pandora.com I tuned in and tuned out.

Pandora is a dedicated self selected programming site for audio (music, in my case). I’ve selected Hoagy  Carmichael music. Yes, I know. Hopeless. However, the station sent along an email telling me that in response to listeners requests they had added several artists to the programming on my selected “station.”

There is something about the night that begs mood music, so early this morning I entered the realm of mood. Off with the TV; begone FOX, ESPN and the Food Channel. On with Pandora.

Not content with mood, I thought me up-load pictures from yesterday afternoon and get a post on. So, here I am. With major exceptions. The picture below is titled “Hanging On” by the photographer. (By the way the current song through the ear phones is “Up A Lazy River”)

 

I dedicate the picture to Pauly and myself. He that took to pharmies and alcohol, and I that have taken to music. He for getting ripped off and I for having plugged in my camera to my new Windows 7 program and having it refuse to up-load the pictures.

As I said: Gum Drops

I now have a new day, listening to Swing and Big Band Era music, with new problems – if problems they be. (Would you believe Sinatra singing “For Learning The Blues” ?) I also have a large white question mark in the lower tray of the computer dealing with a question from Windows 7 telling me to go to the Help section with the problem (not specified by the question mark).

It’s a dumb program after all, that cannot discern my imperative to separate myself from its question or answer.

As the picture tells me.

I’m “Hanging On”.

_____

From the reaches,

Ten Mile

Thursday, November 19, 2009

I took my locked up computer to the self employed individual, as I have written. There was absolutely nothing incorrect in that action. He saved – somehow, all my pictures, documents and various bits and pieces.

When I returned the computer home, I re-installed sundry programs.

I could not, however, get the speakers to operate. I could not “find” the information he had saved for me. I journeyed to speak with this individual about: 1) the speakers – it is disheartening to activate Windows Media Center and not hear the music, after all. And 2) Where was all my information?

I was assured it was there. I was not told how to get to it. To compound the situation, I didn’t ask. I forget the modern youth will seldom lie, and will seldom tell the whole truth, expand on the obvious, and needlessly volunteer more than is specifically asked.

I have absolutely no heart burn with any of it.

When I returned home to follow the dictates of this youthful person, I still could not get the speakers to work. Even changing various jack positioning and searching through software programs.

Somewhere after the eighth hour of labor re-installing this, that and the other, I realized that I had now lost: All the purchased games; all the favorites list; lost MS Words; lost MS Office; and, finally, my patience.

I was tired.

I erred.

I purchased and installed Windows 7.

The rational for that is flimsy, but goes somewhat thusly – If you’re mucking about like this and have been going bonkers and you have been thinking of going from Vista anyway . . . Well, I did it.

Windows 7 is nothing like anything ever before in this Boy’s experience.

I will be journeying to the repairman's home this day.

We need to speak frankly.

I pray, clearly.

In detail.

ADDENDUM: The young man drove many miles to my house, spent three and a half hours reviewing his previous efforts, my present efforts, agreed that I had done my part correctly and allowed that he had errored in file saving. We agreed that the speakers were bad, that a headset will suffice until trial speakers may be employed some time next week.

I appreciate the long explanation I was given; the step by step and answers to questions general and specific.

This was his first visit with Windows 7.

_____

From the reaches,

Ten Mile

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

The way my week is going:

 

 

On the other hand, I suppose it could be a great deal worse.

_____

From the reaches,

Ten Mile

I

Monday, November 16, 2009

I’m spooked.

Admittedly it takes very little to spook me – like last week when all was going well; Housekeeper was making housekeeping noises, the poker chips clattered in the office and my middle management office chair was comfortable – when Housekeeper let out a shriek and I came un-glued.

I landed in the bathroom.

That was from a standing (sitting) start.

Peering through the half closed door, I demanded of Housekeeper the cause. She indicated she had discovered a mouse.

A mouse?

No! she exclaimed, a DEAD mouse.

Hmm. I can handle a dead mouse. I re-entered the living room and questioned Housekeeper, who was standing, one hand holding the left elbow (the reader is encouraged to reason the right was supporting the left) and the fingers of her left hand shoved two joints deep into her mouth, staring at the plants trailing across the floor.

I asked her, under duress of high heart rate and mental confusion, was she still alive, and she indicated she was afraid of mice.

Dead mice, she continued. I can handle mice, she said, but not dead mice.

Why not, I asked.

Because they are dead, she said. I cannot do dead mice. They scare me.

Well, say I, they don’t scare me! Are you sure it’s not alive?

Dead. Pointing outward and down. There.

Where, there?

Under that plant.

Oh. Show me.

No.

I firmly turned my back on her and approached the plant; eyeing the thing I found the end of the six foot runner and lifted, listening to Housekeepers sharply in-drawn breath. And sure enough, there it was – the mouse. Dead. About four feet up the runner . . well, it was on the floor, under the runner; about four feet along the runner from me.

I’m afraid of dead mice, Housekeeper said.

Yes, yes. I understand; I said, and reached out with thumb and forefinger to nip the tail and carry out last rites for the critter.

Housekeeper wailed a “No, no.” and I jumped again, snatching back my hand.

What? I exclaimed.

Not like that, she said, advancing to my rear, get the dust pan over there. Don’t pick it up with your hand.

Why not?

You might get a disease or something.

Oh. What kind of disease?

I don’t know. Just . . well, something.

Oh. You know, Housekeeper, you’re a wuss.

A what?

Ahh. . . never mind.

So dust pan it was and I gave her a choice – trash bag or toilet?

If you trash bag it, you’re going to remove that bag right now.

The bathroom floor is still wet, I point out, and you’ve given me what for all morning for screwing up your work.

I’ll mop the floor again. Just get rid of it.

Toilet it was.

When I’d finished, I said to her, Housekeeper why is it called toilet and spelled like that and means the same – same as that four letter word, work?

What are you talking about?

Toil – et, I said.

She wouldn’t talk with me the rest of her visit.

I want you to know, though, that I’m not spooked over a dead mouse. No. That is not what’s bothering me.

What’s bothering me is I found myself quoted in another blog.

I cannot remember if the quote came from an entry in this blog or a comment I left on another blog. But the quote was accurate and attributed to me, as author of this blog, as one would expect from the fine writer of the blog carrying the quote.

Even that doesn’t spook me as much as thinking about the quote. Nope. What really spooks me are the many changes I would make to the quote, to make it a better quote, and the many ways I’d say the same thing if I’d known I would be quoted.

To say little of the fact someone found something I’d said worth noting.

That’s spooky.

_____

From the reaches,

Ten Mile

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Computer stuff is fun.

Three consecutive days UB and Absolute tell me I have Error Code xxxxxxxx and deleting them and re-installing have no effect.

That is on top of the Live Writer errors.

Late yesterday Live Writer started working.

This morning UB and Absolute loaded updates, and Live Writer stopped working again.

Life is good.

I’m writing on Live Writer at this time. Don’t ask, I don’t know.

**

I ran good yesterday at the tables.

Watched some very good College Football games Saturday. I saturated myself. I would like to say the games coughed up more injuries and bell ringing than I’ve seen in many years.

My best to those young men. Three were carted off on the Oh-Oh mobile. Only one gave us a thumbs up.

Like I told a Real Estate Agent, who was a defensive back: We (meaning the two of us) wouldn’t stand a chance against present players. They’re faster, smarter, stronger and much more well coached.

Being an self judged Alpha Male, he asked if I was speaking for myself. I laughed. Get back to me when you really look at what your watching, I said. 

He never did. Get back to me.

He did start talking about the present players abilities and less about his own “days.” I must say that both his sons declined a second year football full ride at the JuCo level. They never indicated true feelings, other than to say they thought it was time they found a paying career. But were worried that they wouldn’t find one paying what they felt they were worth.

They both sought Tower/High Tension cable work as entry level.

_____

From the reaches,

Ten Mile

Friday, November 13, 2009

Note that Windows Live Writer refuses my invitations to employment. Note that my ISP is inop. Note I am cool with all this.

Note that I have called my ISP. Note that my ISP told me THEY were having problems and were doing the best they could. Note that as of 0600 hrs I called. Note that my ISP said they thought they would have the problem fixed within two and a half hours.

Note that I wondered what the problem was. Note that the ISP refained from stating the obvious - that if they knew, they wouldn't have a problem.

Note I privately thought, at first blush, my ISP was getting too large to provide services.

Note that Windows Live Writer, an adjunct of Microsoft, still does not work.

Note that I will not give up thinking companies get too large to perform well.

And, finally, Note that I am somewhat ashamed of wondering aloud as to the problem my ISP was searching.

I dislike showing the world I'm much more stupid than I really am.
_____

From the reaches,

Ten Mile