Small Pleasures

Took my Wonder Woman along with me on a jaunt to my favorite “fell off the back of a truck store,” in part to help me keep my expenditures down. Well, that worked well. *heh* Oh, don’t get me wrong, the butcher’s bill was not that bad, even for a tightwad like me, but. . .

She found a Tramontina combo ( one of Tramontina’s triple-ply stainless, small Dutch ovens and an induction plate) for half what I paid for a 12” Tramontina pan seven years ago. . . on close-out @33% off the regular price. Yeh, that was still more than my tightwad heart had set as a likely outing cost, but at less than 1/3 of the Amazon price for the set, I am able to at least rationalize the purchase, especially since I know I’ll at least be using the pan for years to come.

Used the combo today to make a fritata–potatoes ion bottom, layered with sauteed onion/garlic, corn, broccoli, red pepper, cheese, and egg/heavy cream. Oh, ver’ yummers.

Law Enfarcement in America’s Third World County™

Just another *cough* typical *cough* interaction with putative “law enforcement” in America’s Third World County™. . .

[Phone rings]

Me: Hello.
Caller: This is [some redneck] with the [Third World County™] Sheriff’s Department. What can I do for you?
Me: You called _me_. What do you want?
Caller: Dispatch gave me your name and number and told me you requested a call.
Me: What name?
Caller: Junior [Redacted].
Me: Junior [Redacted] lives two miles from me. What number did dispatch give you?
Caller: [recites my landline number]
Me: That’s not Junior [Redacted]’s number.
Caller: Sorry.
Me: *click*

I should have asked if dispatched was referring to Junior [Redacted] or Junior [Redacted] Junior, his son, although they live (lived? Is Junior [Redacted] still among the “quick”?) in “manufactured homes” catty-cornered from each other. . . (and Junior [Redacted] Junior now runs the family business).

Of Course They Are. . .

Word “on the street” is that Mediacom is making major “improvements” for our area. I already knew that, since the “service” has sucked dead bunnies for the last few days (yes, even suckier than normal).

Notice where the upload “speed” test says, “Connecting”? Yeh, well it stuck there for five minutes before I gave up.

“Mediacom is making improvements” has invariably meant “Mediacom is screwing things up, again” for years now. But, never fear! Meadiacom really is “making improvements,” where “making improvements” = “we’re getting ready to hike you rates, and a compliant government regulatory agency is already greased to issue its approval for further gouging,” no doubt.

One of Those Days. . .

*sigh*

It’s been a mixed bag of a day, so far. Sent a not quite right dessert off with my Wonder Woman for a “potluck-ish” day at work. *meh* Tastes OK, but texture and appearance lacking. So-so, so far.

I’ve gotten a goodly number of tasks marked off today’s list. Plus.

Phone call. Cancel whatever I have on Thursday to be pallbearer at a longstanding client’s funeral. *sigh* Transitioned over the years from strictly business (keeping he and her daughter’s computers and network running well for their home medical transcription work) to real friendship. Five months ago, I attended her daughter’s funeral. Now, her family has asked me to participate in hers. Mixed feelings.

I’ll have to see how much I can get done the rest of today and this evening, so I have the entire afternoon off on Thursday. I know it’ll be hard on her surviving son and his wife (pretty much all that’s left of the family, now, apart from some great-nieces and -nephews.).

On the plus side, shes Home, and her longstanding health issues are over.

Mixed bag all around.

Take Note: It is Always Appropriate to Give Me a Knife. :-)

It’s taken some time, but I’m finally coming to grips with (*heh*) the opening/closing mechanism and finger hole/blade grip on the lil Spyderco Estimable Son-in-Law gifted me. Nice knife. The very nicely-machined jibbing on the finger choils on both the spine and edge sides of the blade have proven to be a nice feature, and it definitely came sharp enough to shave with right outa the box (and has held its edge nicely).

All-in-all, it’s proven to be much more useful than one might expect any knife its size to be. Definitely an “always-carry” lil knife.

Thanks again, Joshua.

It’s Still Just a Phone

So, new phone to replace the one that went through the wash. . . So-called “smart” phone. More phone than I need. Phone calls only. Screen’s still too small for any computing use. Heck, my tablets’ screens are too small for most computing uses, and only marginally usable (for computing stuff, or even web just browsing) with a Bluetooth keyboard. Not even useful for email–and do NOT get m started on texting. “Dislike” button, anyone?

*sigh* Does it ever end?

Ongoing pain in my Wonder Woman’s arm (the one she broke at work in August), but not where the obvious break was. Another round of Xrays Saturday. Hmmm, seems on top of the radius break and the two ulna breaks, there was also a hairline fracture of the humerus. *sigh* Well, at least it was reported as healed. . . now.

Safe Spaces

Elsewhere on the Interwebs, an acquaintance quoted Sir Conan Doyle,

“There are many men in London, you know, who, some from shyness, some from misanthropy, have no wish for the company of their fellows. Yet they are not averse to comfortable chairs and the latest periodicals. It is for the convenience of these that the Diogenes Club was started, and it now contains the most unsociable and unclubable men in town. No member is permitted to take the least notice of any other one. Save in the Stranger’s Room, no talking is, under any circumstances, allowed. and three offences, if brought to the notice of the committee, render the talker liable to expulsion. My brother was one of the founders, and I have myself found it a very soothing atmosphere.” ~ Sherlock Holmes, “The Greek Interpreter”

A sort of 19th Century British “safe space.” *meh* My “safe place” is designed for the safety of others. I’m thoughtful that way.

I have my “Curmudgeon’s Corner” home office for that. Comfy chair. Semi-adequate research capabilities. TONS of books and periodicals. Fine music. Phones NOT allowed. And “Do NOT Disturb” is well-observed by the household. A “Misanthropists’ Club” would probably include some asthmatic wheezer or “irritable bowel gurgler” to harsh my curmudgeonly “mellow.” *heh* No thanks. 😉 (OK, I do allow the dog to share the space, sometimes, even though his presence tends to curdle my curmudgeonry into a genuinely peaceful attitude. Oh, well. The sacrifices I make for his adoration. . . 🙂 )

Islands of Sanity

Elsewhere on the Interwebs, I saw an otherwise nice lil ole lady stating that as divided and rancorous as the public square has become, she expects she’ll have to “duke it out in real life at some point. . . ” in the real world.

Maybe, maybe not. It mostly depends on the venue, methinks. Here in America’s Third World County™, the irrational, emotionally-derived non-arguments (spewing of lying memes, parroting of angry rhetoric) just does not exist for the most part, at least as I am out and about in the county I have never found it so. As a matter of fact, America’s Third World County™ seems to be such a haven of sanity and safety that when nour state’s so-called “Constitutional Carry” law went into effect, I felt no need to take advantage of it as I went about my daily affairs here in America’s Third World County™. Oh, I put a lil revolver in a holster and–legally, now *heh*–carried the thing concealed inside my waistband for a few days, but since so many other folks are doing the same (or carrying in the open, also lawful), and the general conditions of civilized safety and sanity still prevail here, I just set the lil wheelgun aside for plinking.

Seriously, I am THAT comfy with the civilized deportment of ou citizens. LE guys (and gals *sigh*) still have too much swagger and project far, far too much self-importance (unnecessary here, IMO), and there are a few bad actors around, but realy very few, but still, overall this area is the safest and sanest, the most civilized I have ever lived in, well, at least since I was seven years old, nearly 60 years ago. Oh, we lack some of the amenities and pleasures of big city life, but a trek of less than an hour can afford a trip to a world class museum of art, a middlin’ quality orchestral performance, good craft beers, etc., if desired. Fortunately, no professional sports teams are within what I’d call driving range, which pretty much eliminates the hooliganism I associate with that stupidity.

Yeh, unless I stray too far from America’s Third World County™, I don’t think I’ll have a lot of RW “in your face” confrontations with rancorous loonies. I suspect there are more such enclaves of civilization around, islands of sanity in this mad, mad world, havens of civilization contra the Crazy Years.

“Solutions” for all the sturm und drang in the passing scene?

For “the passing scene,” I got nuthin’.

My “solution” to the passing societal scene (politics, media, wacko people all around) is to take care of my own business, and, when interfered with by a “gummint” busybody, do whatever I can to distract, befuddle, redirect, frustrate, bar (yeh, even to relying on a junkyard dog of a lawyer, if necessary, the meanest one around), etc., them from messing in my stuff that’s none of their business. If TEOTWAWKI does come about in my lifetime, I want to have plenty of (well-preserved and protected from marauders) “popcorn and beer” and a (relatively) safe (well, well-defended and as secure as can be effected with my resources) place from which to watch the show.

Of course I’ll do whatever low-key things I can to ameliorate problems on a local and neighborhood level, but I’m pretty much limited to everyday politics and prayer (though that’s unlimited *heh*) when it comes to affecting things further afield than that, so just making as sure as I can that “me ‘n’ mine” are as well-provided for as possible seems. . . prudent.

OTOH, being “a voice in the wilderness” crying out, “Repent sinners! Make way for the return of the Lord!” seems like something to do, too, eh?