Fixing the Internet (or call Al Gore)

Sunday evening and the daughter was indignant, “The internet isn’t working,” she called down from the corner upstairs bedroom.  The whole internet or just ours?  I wondered if Al Gore would be available on short notice.  I mean who better to call to fix the internet than the guy who (apocryphally) invented the damn thing.  It had been a long, hard day of moving.  The house was a mess.  There wasn’t one room in the place save the bathrooms that wasn’t piled with boxes and bags.  I’d just been on the internet earlier in the day so I tried to ignore her and hoped the whole issue would go away.  I don’t like fixing electronic things.  Then again I don’t like fixing plumbing things, metal things, wooden things, mechanical things or automotive things.  Yeah, I’m not the DIY guy.  If I ever win the lottery I’m going to put a DIY person on retainer.

What Exactly Did You Meme By That?

“How about you turn in your guns,” President Obama said, pointing a threatening finger.  Well there it was; right there on the internet, right there on Facebook.  I could see it in my mind as if it were really happening.  The President of the United States is knocking on my door, flanked by two U.S Marshalls and trailed by those suited guys who sport shades and earpieces.   And then he says, “How about you turn in your guns.  Boys", he says to the marshals, “do your duty.”  And so they push me aside and march into my home like SS storm troopers and ransack the place until they find the two black powder Civil War replicas that I’ve used in reenactments.  And then The President of the United States and his minions go on to pillage the next house, leaving me to sweep up the shattered bric –a- brac and right the overturned furniture.  Sure as hell it’s going to happen.  It has to because I saw it on Facebook, on the internet and in a meme.  Because if it’s in a meme it must be true. 

Sodden Holiday Thoughts

We’re approaching that holiday time of the year once again.  Actually if you believe corporate it’s been holiday season since sometime around Labor Day.  Time to buy the little woman a Lexus or a Mercedes to go with the thousand dollar bauble from Zale’s.  Break out the camping gear because Black Friday is a-comin’ and you gotta blow off a couple weeks of PTO so that you can save a hundred bucks on a TV.  Every year about this time I try to come up with some holiday theme.  It gets a little harder every year and I was despairing a bit until Starbucks dropped a big present under the tree and a self-styled evangelist put a giant bow on it.

A Night in the Emergency Room

“The very first requirement in a hospital is that it should do the sick no harm.” ~ Florence Nightingale

“A hospital bed is a parked taxi with the meter running.” ~ Groucho Marks

“I joke, but only half joke, that if you show up in an American hospital missing a finger, no one will believe you until they get a CAT scan, MRI and orthopedic consult.”  ~ Abraham Verghese

As firsts go it wasn’t exactly my idea of a memorable milestone.  But there I was strapped to a gurney, taking a ride in an ambulance.  And this one came complete with a paramedic in training.  “Do you mind if our trainee treats you today?” one of the paramedics asked?  “No it’s alright; go for it.”

It all started when I came home from the gym and sat down to watch sports.  I felt a crappiness that I'd never felt before.  The wife and I debated what to do and I decided that maybe we just ought to drive down to emergency.  We’d just about got out of town when feeling crappy turned to feeling like ten pounds of shit in a five pound sack.  “You know I’m not feeling at all good.  Let’s just swing around and go back to the fire station.”  

Three firefighters greeted us and led us into the garage where they hooked me up to a cardiogram.  My racing pulse had slowed down and the irregular heartbeat was back to normal.  I was actually feeling a bit better than when we pulled in.  That’s the way it always works isn’t it?  That toothache that felt like a cattle prod in your mouth all day long turns benign the minute the dentist walks in and you end up feeling like a dumb ass.  I tried to beg off of the ambulance ride but I was talked out of it by all three firefighters and the wife. 

Mountain Musings

“I believe that a man gets closer to God out there in the big, free West,”  ~  William F. (Buffalo Bill) Cody.

There’s something both invigorating and spiritual in sitting on a porch in the warmth of the late afternoon sun, listening to the gurgle of a creek not 10 yards away. Aside from that creek the only sounds are the wind and the occasional screech of a circling hawk.  I’m alternately reading and glancing up from my book at the red cliffs that overlook the cabin.  Bighorn sheep clamor on those cliffs.  Downstream the green, yellow and orange leaves on young aspens shiver in the cooling autumn wind.  They shine and shimmer like colored coins. 

Wow I guess I didn’t fully appreciate the quiet until I got back home to the San Francisco Bay Area and went to my gym a week later.  The noise was like getting whacked in the face with a baseball bat; clanging steel, grunting and shouting and of course the dreck and cacophony that the tone deaf call music.  Walking in I hunched over from the sheer weight of the din.

             Ante Up! Yap that fool!

Ante Up! Kidnap that fool!

It's the perfect timing, you see the man shining

Get up off them god damn diamonds! Huh!

Ante Up! Yap that fool!

Ante Up! Kidnap that fool!

In the locker room I got ready for my work out and said to myself in disgust that “I could eat alphabet soup and shit better lyrics.”  Maybe a little too loud as the guy a few lockers down shot me a look.

High mountain valley

Gridlock

                                                            

Jackson Hole - Horse Thieves and Celebrities; Cheap Beer and Overpriced Pretzels

We’d pulled into Jackson late on a Saturday night a bit disoriented, very hungry and too dog tired to worry about food.  Well the wife didn’t worry about food but I opted for some overpriced room service; but I repeat myself because room service is culinary grand larceny.  What we found in the morning when we headed into town was not the Jackson that I remembered from childhood when we visited on a family vacation.  Understand that I don’t have the faintest recollection of my childhood Jackson but I can state with positive certainty that my childhood Jackson was not this Jackson. I couldn't imagine that the Jackson that my parents brought me to was a haven for the 1 percent. 

The Little Cabin in the Woods

“My God, this place is at the end of the world,” worried the wife.  It did seem like a long ride up the mountain from the main highway.  It was unpaved and pocked with ruts and holes but it wasn’t horrible.  Hell, highway 880 in Oakland has worse stretches and deeper holes with the added hazards of drivers texting, putting on makeup and fussing about the morning coffee that just sloshed onto the console.  The rain was a bit worrisome.  How bad would this thing be if this light shower turned into a gully washer?