Today

Today is Friday the 13th.

I probably should not even start writing anything, because Friday the 13th actually came on Friday this month, and that's always worse than the months when it comes on Wednesday or Tuesday.

For anyone old enough to remember Pogo, well, you'll have an idea where that got started.

I finally got permission to move back down to the fourth floor at work.  The move will be a major PITA - but it will be kinda nice to get back to a place where everyone who comes through the door does not have to walk past me and look over my shoulder before doing anything else.

It'll also be nice to move my speakers downstairs where I can play the music LOUD if I want to.

I have not been sleeping enough, and it has been too cold to go motorcycling.  I love the Volvo, but there is something about December that brings out all the folk whose heads seem to explode the minute they put a key into the ignition lock and start the car.  I promise I'm not gonna start a traffic rant - but commuting is suddenly a trip into hell every morning.

But it could be worse - I could be riding many buses to get to work, and taking at least twice as long as it takes to drive there.  So I am going to shut up about that lest I get T-boned and have to resort to the train and the bus....

And before anyone asks, I'm not ready for the holidays - there's still more money I have to spend.  But I'm working on it in my spare time.

Anyone who knows me knows I like to read.  I discovered BookBub which is a web site that takes your email address and daily sends a list of inexpensive (and usually FREE) e-books.  I have amassed quite a collection that will take years to read, but I am enjoying rereading many things I haven't read for years and have not been able to find.  Amazon has some real treasures (and daily Kindle ebook giveaways) available that are worth a look.  I don't have a Kindle - but my Android Phone, Android tablet(s) and windows computers have kindle apps - and Google's Chrome browser has a Kindle plug-in that connects seamlessly with Amazon's Kindle cloud.

I've talked about the Kindle readers before, so I won't bore anyone now - if someone wants more info, leave me a note with an email address and I'll gather all the mutterings up and send them to you as links.

I got Phyllis a new toy - a Keurig coffee maker - and it was worth every penny it cost.  It is a complex device, but it makes great coffee and while the per-cup cost may be a little higher than what we were doing before, the svings comes in the form of cups of coffee that we just throw away.  I'm not seeing all that much benefit since I am supposed to be off coffee, at least until I get scoped again for the doctor to look and see if I still have ulcers, but of course I will do what I will do - and damn it makes great coffee!  If I am ever allowed to drink coffee again, I may have to get one for the office!

Tomorrow and one day this weekend I'll be moving, and it will be a hell of a job, but it will be nice when it is done.  Some computers will come with me, as well as lots of books and miscellaneous stuff that has accumulated over the years - and my supply of small parts, screwdrivers and sockets, pocket knives, hammers, cables and various USB gadgets.  Kinda makes me wanna just go back to bed, but it has to be done.

I almost forgot - I finally have collected all of Greywolf's Roswell stories.  If you don';t know what that's about, it's OK, but if you do know and want any, I can tell you how to find them. Getting them together was a PITA, but they are all in Google Docs format, and easily available.


I gotta go to bed.  Be well, y'all.

Wednesday, when I was reminded how old I am....

I recall expressing a hope that not too much pain would accrue to my last misadventure, in which I managed to get a new (to me) motorcycle over once on each side. I ended the day hoping that I wouldn't be in any pain when I awoke.

Well, it worked - partly.  I didn't start to hurt until I got to work - and by the time I left work, I knew that I was hurting - so I went to choir rehearsal, and then came home and really hurt.

Took some Tylenol, logged in at work and started a process that will run almost all night, but will give me a head start on tomorrow and some data I need to get ready for a project. After yesterday I drove the old Volvo to work today, and will do so tomorrow and Friday and hope to have a battery for the Guzzi by Saturday, when I intend to take a ride with the Ramblers.

Meanwhile, life goes on, the politicians in Washington make spoiled 2-year-olds look positively reasonable - and I have to see a doctor Friday morning to be told that I need to lose weight and get more exercise.

I think I'm gonna go to bed - that last wore me out!

I might have to start up Big Suzi tomorrow to feed my motorcycling monkey.

G'nite all.

Tuesday. It sucked.

This has been a Tuesday that was a Monday in all normal respects.

It started out decently - I rode the Guzzi to work, and enjoyed every minute of the trip.  I had quite forgot how good it felt to ride a motorcycle that is so much a part of you that you almost put it on and wear it rather than do something so mundane as to get on its back and tell it what to do.

I left late for work and got there a little bit early - a perfect trip in.

It turned to poo when it was time to go home.

I went out on the roof to my motorcycle and out the key in, unlocked the steering, got out my jacket and gloves and put them on and stowed my tablet bag, climbed on, and started it up.

That is, I turned the key and pushed the button.

No lights.  No noise.  Deader than last year's news.

I said a word, then remembered it won't start with the sidestand down, so I put the sidestand up.  Wouldn't start with it up, either, dammit!

I rolled it down into the garage, and started to think about getting it a hotshot - we have hotshot boxes all over the place.  The battery is under the seat.  Bear in mind, the motorcycle is Italian, so anything you thought you knew about where things are normally located will only confuse you.

But the battery, as I knew, was under the seat, so I started to take the seat off. I started to look around and see what I had to make loose to get the seat off. I took off some side covers that didn't need to come off. I found nothing pertaining to the seat under the covers, so I put them back on. The seat still won't come off.  I look in the user manual, and can find nothing about removing the seat.  I look some more - still nothing.  I look all over the motorcycle - and find nothing.  The seat won't budge, there are no bolts - nothing to be seen.

I read the manual end to end, and under helmet lock there is the information I need.  Effing Italians, hiding the seat lock by combining it with the helmet lock - where's the logic in that?  Now the seat's off, and a couple of guys bring me a hotshot box, and it starts.  I shut it down, put the seat back on, and start it up again.

Or try to start it up again.  No go.  Hotshot box, seat off, apply and restart.  This time block at high idle for about 8 minutes while I find helmet, gloves, leather jacket, get dressed, and head for home.  About ten minutes later, the get gas light comes on. Bear in mind I haven't had this so long that I know how far it will go with that little light on, and I have this feeling tonight ain't the night to risk it - so I get off the highway to a gas station, fill it back up, and start it again.  Or try - the damn thing just clicks at me and won't turn....

Push it out of the way, set the sidestand, and call the motor club for a hotshot.  They say in 35 minutes - the guy actually shows in 20, and I'm so happy, I get on the bike to set the center stand, and promptly fall over on the left side.  Allstate Guy helps me pick it up and get it on the center stand, and it starts right up - with a hotshot box.  I start  heading home the rest of the way, secure in the knowledge that I have enough gas.  The rest of the trip is a dream.  I really do love the Guzzi.

So I get home, ride up into the carport and set up to park next to the big Suzuki - and promptly fall over onto the other side from the side I fell over onto when the Allstate guy come. While I'm laying there on the ground, my cell phone rings - it is my lovely wife, wondering if I am home yet. She detects that I am not really thrilled and asks me what has happened.  I tell her I just dropped the damned motorcycle and can't pick it up and probably mumble some profanities just to spice it up.

She offers to call someone to help me pick it up, and I thank her and then hang up so maybe I can breathe again and get my BP under control.

Damon shows up and helps me (actually does most of the work) pick it up, and I scurry around and set the sidestand.  Then Phyllis shows up, and I decide to move the bike to where it should be parked, so I pop the sidestand up and start it - or at least try to start it.  It won't start. By this time, I am beyond pissed! I push it into place and resolve to get a replacement battery - and drive the Volvo tomorrow, on what will be a wonderful motorycle day. The rest of the week, of course, after I have a chance to get a battery, will be rain - including the Saturday that I had planned to go on a ride with the club.

See what I mean about imperfect Tuesdays?

I came inside, got something to eat, and fired up the Toshiba laptop intending to read email and go to bed. Instead I wrote this.

Tomorrow will be better.

Tomorrow will be better.

Tomorrow will dammit be better!

I think it is time to get some sleep, and hope I don't hurt in the morning.

I surely hope that this isn't a Sign that I am supposed to get a toy with more wheels....

G'night, y'all.

Syria

I've been thinking about Syria lately, and wondering what kind of a shitstorm we're getting into this time.

I understand that the use of chemical weapons is not a nice thing.  I also understand that this is not the first time.  Further, I believe that it is not certain whether there actually was an attack, or some numbskull on one side or the other just mishandled the stuff and it went off.

However, I do know this - in Syria they are fighting a civil war, which means Syrians are fighting Syrians. Since they look alike, I don't know how to tell who is on what side, or even whether there are only two sides, or even what they are fighting about (although I am sure someone doesn't like someone else is at the core of it.)

So let's think about it.  Syria has Syrians fighting Syrians.  No interlopers, no outsiders - just the folks that would be there anyhow.

The Current Occupant of the place called the White House thinks that the Syrians should be taught a lesson to reinforce that the use of chemical weapons is Not Nice. He thinks we should throw some ordnance at them, probably a couple of cruise missiles. Now, as far as I know, a cruise missile cannot tell a Syrian from a Syrian - come to think of it, neither can I.  How are we to tell these cruise missiles which Syrians it should spank and which it should not?

Interestingly, most of our European allies are not at all interested in helping us in this foolishness, with the exception of France.  That alone should make one wonder - nothing all that great has come from France in many years, and they are busily ceding much of France to Shariah Law - maybe they need to distract their folks from that, just as our current Occupant would distract us from Benghazi.

In any event, I can see nothing good coming out of our indiscriminate bombing of Syrians when we've no means to tell if the bombs will be falling on the Syrians we do not like or on the Syrians we do like. I have to believe that bombing the hell out of the folks we do like will not leave them kindly disposed to us, and will give the folks we don't like more reason to not like us.

Sounds to me like a no-win. The Current Occupant assures us none of our people will have to actually Go Into Syria - but if we do not have boots on the ground there, how will we tell the effectiveness of those expensive cruise missiles?

I think we ought to let Allah sort it out, and when it get quiet in Syria again, see who won (it will be the Syrians of course) then make nice ((or not)) with the folks who appear to have come out on top, knowing full well that, at least in appearance, they won't look a damn bit different from those who came out on the bottom.

I would still like to know how to tell a Syrian we like from one whom we do not like.  Anyone out there have any ideas?