Coffee heat rising

Why I Buy Apple Computers

Why do I buy Apple Computers at ridiculous prices when a PC can be had for a fraction of a Mac’s cost? Because of Apple’s customer service.

Apple hires actual, living HUMAN BEINGS to deal with its customers. Not only that, but these unique creatures know what they’re doing! Isn’t that a bizarre concept?

Whenever you have a software problem and often when you have a hardware problem, you can send a message over a Web page and a person — yes, a live person will call you on the phone and talk you through the issue. With your permission, they can hook up with your computer, view what the thing is doing, and instruct you step by step in how to make it work.

This morning I stumbled in to the office at 5:00 for a brief e-mail check whilst regaining enough consciousness to take the dogs for a walk.

Unlike Windows, Mac does not unilaterally update your operating system. Every now and again you’ll get a suggestion that you do so, but I do not do so, because my ancient Wyrd and Excel programs will not run on the latest OS and because I stubbornly decline to do my own and my clients’ work in Microsoft’s cloud.

When I wake up the machine, I find a nag from iTunes saying it tried to update iTunes (huh????) but couldn’t because it needed blattidy-blat and I should sign in to somethingorother to fix that.

[I don’t use iTunes to speak of and am not interested in their updates. Hmmmm????? WTF?]

Now I see that the Word file I was in late last night appears as a postage stamp. I cannot enlarge it, through any of three commands I know, to fit the screen. Holy sh!t.

So I figure the Mac has somehow updated to High Sierra or something worse and has disabled Word.

About to faint dead away, I call up Apple, and within 30 seconds a tech is on the phone.

And what a tech she is!

Rather than giving me the usual story (“We can’t do anything about products that are not Apple products”), she knows exactly what the problem is (cache, cache, and yet another cache…do you KNOW how many places a computer hides away its caches?) and she knows how to fix it.

The fix is not complicated, but it is obscure. These caches are stashed in places the user can’t easily access by accident, so as not to delete something important. By accident. We delete three entire folders full of cached data.

Reboot. And lo! the problem is solved.

Along the way she notices the Brother printer “wanna-turn-me-on” icon pops up, and she suggests I try printing something just to be sure that’s working. I explain that the printer used to work with my old MacBook, but it has never functioned with the present Macbook Pro and no tech of any kind — whether Mac employee, Cox computer guru, or retired Genius Bar types who have gone off to run their own repair shops — has been able to connect it. Hell, not even my son could connect it…which indicates that it can’t be done. 😉 The only way I can print anything is to save the file to Dropbox or email it to myself, go to the aged iMac, re-open it there, and then hit command-P.

She fixed it in under five seconds.

Hot dayum! Now I can print stuff without having to get off my duff and walk around the house to boot up another computer and dork around! Woo HOO!

That, IMHO, is well worth the extra price of the machine.

So…the Fire Prevention Scheme? How’d it work?

Hilariously.

Well, it didn’t seem funny at the time. But after a stone-cold shower and a couple hours of rest, it’s beginning to seem pretty ridiculous.

Tellya one thing, though: I will never buy another product from Home Depot again, not if there’s any way I can help it. After this, I’ll shop local and pay a few bucks extra to get a product that’s not so cheapied down as to be insulting. If push comes to shove: Lowe’s or Amazon.

Here’s the piece of junk I bought — four of them, actually, so as to cover about 120 linear feet of invitingly flammable shrubbery.

I wanted to buy a 100-foot length and a 25-foot length, or, failing that, two 50-footers and one 25 feet. But the 100-foot hose, as it turned out, was not a hose but a contraption: a kit that you had to put together with an array of cheesey plastic connectors by way of laying down a pattern to fit a garden. It had no built-in connector fittings for your garden hose — you had to DIY those along with all the other pieces of ditz.

As usual with Home Depot: back in the car, drive up to the damn store again, get my money back for the 100-foot non-hose. Replace it with four 25-foot hoses.

Notice, once home, that the new hosing is not the same gauge as the old hose I put in around the roots of the pool-side plantings. It’s considerably narrower. And considerably cheesier.

Oh well.

So I run these fine hoses along the top of the cat’s claw mounds, zip-tying them in place and planning to let water dribble on the plants for several hours. Theory: the underlayment will be good and soggy by the time the lads come around this evening to play with their illegal fireworks.

First thing that happened: as soon as I turned on the water, a SHOWER erupted from the connection to that soaker hose. I tried to patch it with duct tape: no dice. And the other hoses? Water would barely run through them, even with the faucet turned way higher than it should be with a soaking hose.

What a fiasco. I screwed around and dorked around and dorked around and screwed around, trying to find some way to make the junk work. Finally ended up dragging a garden hose over to the vines’ worst dry spot, climbing up on a ladder, and zip-tying a lawn sprinkler to the top of the vines. Realized one of the old soaker hoses (we do mean old: I put those in a good 10 years ago) was still viable, even though the other one, which was connected to it, disintegrated in my hands yesterday. Tried to drag that out from behind and around the stems and plants but it was just too damn hot to continue. Removed the hose-oid with the geyser and attached the other garden hose to the next hose in line.

This one at least didn’t release a spray into the stratosphere. But neither did it move much water into the soaker hose. Even with the water pressure turned way higher than you’re supposed to use with a soaker hose, it wouldn’t move water past about halfway down the next, attached hose.

Finally gave up — even jumping into the pool wasn’t cooling me off, the face was beet-red, and I was beginning to feel light-headed. Turned on the water so it would soak (I hoped) at least the vines directly across from Jerkowitz’s trash piles and retreated into the air-conditioning.

It is 112 degrees here as I write this, after 5 in the evening. I’m a tough old bat (so they say), but wrestling with that mess damn near gave me a heat stroke — at one point I considered whether I should call 911. Then remembered that ice water comes out of the refrigerator’s spigot so was able to soak a compress and chill down the head, bringing a stop to the wooziness. A cold shower finally did the complete job.

Man. What is the matter with a retailer that peddles crap like that to the public?

I will never buy ANY product from Home Depot again. If this is the kind of junk they feel free to foist on customers, I will pay a few bucks more to BUY LOCAL (!!!!!) and get a better product.

If Donald Trump somehow, by some God’s miracle, manages to do ONE good thing while he’s running a three-ring circus from the White House, it will, just maybe, be that he lays enough tariffs on shoddy imports from China and waypoints to force U.S. corporations to start making goods in the U.S. again. With the exception of automobiles, our products were not just out-and-out junk.***

Okay. The Fix-Or-Repair-Daily cars were a big exception. But most of our stuff: not guaranteed to be trash.

We need the jobs back. And we need the quality consumer goods back.

***Uh-oh! CTRL-Z: DELETE RANT! MD notes, below, that we can’t blame China for today’s fiasco after all: Miracle-Gro’s shoddy hoses are shoddily made right here in the good old USofA. Tsk. Well…I still blame Home Depot. It’s all Home Depot’s fault. By golly!!!!! {grump!}

Why Didn’t I Think of That Before…

Ever have one of those why didn’t I think of that before moments, borne out of some altogether irrelevant little challenge? It’s like looking at something askance and spotting a detail you’ve been missing every time you stare straight at the thing.

This morning I set out to soak the vines that grow in mounds along the Funny Farm’s back wall, by way of cutting the likelihood — however slim (or not) — of a fire starting in the dry stuff under it when the local yokels take to the alley to set off their illegal fireworks. My twitly neighbors, as you’ll recall, have dumped so much trash out there that Gerardo figured he couldn’t get it all in his (very large) trailer.

And our legislators, who by tradition indulge in stupidity that far surpasses mere twitliness have set things up like this:

• Confused about the difference between firearms and fireworks, they eliminated all laws and regulations limiting the possession and use of DIY fireworks, except the kind that rocket up in the air and create giant shows.

• When several cities stepped into the breach and banned certain types of especially dangerous fireworks within their city limits, our idiot legislators passed another law stating that cities and towns may not tell retailers that they cannot sell these devices, whether or not they’re illegal to use within the city.

• Thus, bang-bang enthusiasts run down to the local Albertson’s (ours has set up a tent in its parking lot for the sale of such toys) and stock up on fireworks of all kinds, including the ones that are illegal here in lovely uptown Phoenix.

• The enthusiasts, of course, know that if they’re caught shooting off a locally illegal firework, they’ll be cited.

• So, by way of avoiding a citation, they sneak into the alleys to set off their most dangerous toys.

And of course, when you have oleanders or vines along your back lot line, or when someone has dumped a lot of dry trash in your alley, what you then have is a fire hazard. Wow! More than you might imagine: 18,500 fires per year, including 1300 structure fires, 300 vehicle fires, and 16,900 outside and other fires.

Personally, I would prefer not to see my home or yard be included in this year’s $43 million of related property damage.

By way of minimizing that hazard, my plan is to get those damn cat’s-claw vines soaking wet, so that by dark this evening they’ll be too soggy to catch fire.

The prospect of dragging the hose and a sprinkler across the pool and up and down 100 feet of back wall on a 113-degree day does not appeal.

Ugh.

But as I get started along about dawn, it occurs to me that one could take the soaker hose that runs along the base of the plants and lay it over the crown of the hedge. Then turn the timer to run as long as it will go — two hours — and let water drip down over the tops of the plants. This would obviate some hose-drag. At least it would allow me to escape having to haul the hose over and through the pool and physically tie the sprinkler to the top of the wall.

So I start to do that: disentangle the thing from the plants’ stems and lay it over the top of the vines. This looks like it’ll work, except…

Yeah. Except…the hose is so old that it crumbles as I handle it!

Fuck.

I manage to pinch off the broken end and get it to run well enough to see how this scheme will work. And yeah. It sure as hell will work. It delivers a load of water to those vines and it dribbles down into the insides of the vine cover. This means the most flammable parts of those vines get really wet. And they get wet with ONE hose-bib turn, not eight or ten hose-drags.

Not only is this working exceptionally well, it now occurs to me that it would be pretty easy to set this up as a permanent thing: instead of running the soaker hose along the ground…duh!!! Run it over the tops of the vines, where water will flow down over the plants and drip onto the ground where rain would normally drip: to the root area where the vines need to get water.

Those vines are looking a bit peakèd these days, partly because the 15-year-old drip system is failing in places, and partly because you can drip-irrigate until you’re blue in the face, but if you don’t get some rain, drip irrigation does not suffice to keep something like that alive forever.

And we haven’t had rain in years.

So…why not add some fake rain?

Needed:

• One short length of regular hose: on hand
• Double-outlet hose bib: on hand
• One 100-foot or two 50-foot lengths of soaker hose: HD is open today
• One hose timer: on hand

Well, hell. Who’d’ve thunk it? Or more to the point, why didn’t I think of it before this?????

So whenever I get around to it, I’m gonna run up to the Depot and pick up the proposed soaker hose.

This is going to be great. It will make watering those damn vines one whole lot easier. Right now it’s a hassle, because I have to climb under eye-poking shrubbery to connect the backyard hose to the soaker that runs around the back of the pool, and that doesn’t reach all the way along the back wall, so a hose-drag is required to reach the whole “hedge” of vines. It’s such a PITA I tend to put it off until it doesn’t get done at all. With the drippers working poorly or not at all, that means the vines are dying back because, lacking any rain, they don’t get enough water.

And with the two-hole hose bib, I can run the short, unused length of hose sitting in the storage shelves over to the soaker hose connection and just leave it there permanently: never have to connect, disconnect, and drag the hose again!

It seems so obvious. Why didn’t I think of this before?

MacBook Is Back!! So…

…sooooo I get to work my pea-brained self to death.

Client has a paper in R&R (revise & resubmit) phase for a journal she’s been targeting. She sent that along late last week, at which point I made yup yup yup putting-off noises, because working at the iMac on the desk in my office causes excruciating hip and back pain.

That was 7600+ words that needed to be re-edited. Argh. It wasn’t completely put off, but the truth is I didn’t make much headway because I couldn’t sit in front of the big computer any length of time.

Apple called yesterday saying to come pick up the refurbished computer. It was late in the afternoon by the time I managed to get there (like I have nothing else to do but drive around the city, Dear Apple?). Meanwhile  Gerardo was underfoot and I had to cook 10 days or two weeks’ worth of dog food and I had to go by the pool store and baby, it’s hot out there and by the time I got back I was pretty whipped.

So by this morning the fatlady was running mighty late on the client’s project. Spent most of the day moving that off the virtual desk.

The new keyboard is MUCH easier to type on. It feels a lot more like the old MacBook’s — and presumably is a lot more like it.

I see they’ve done away with the accursed sliding wacksh!t touchbar blandishment. Had I not hated it with a passion, I would be mightily pissed, because of course I paid more for a machine that had this fine new doo-dad. But given some experience with the damn thing…oh, my. It’s soooo much better to be without it. Now instead of a stupid fussy sliding thing that you have to take your hands off the keyboard to fiddle with, it has a row of buttons with icons, which include the all-important sound buttons, brightness buttons, and a variety of other rarely-used gimmicks.

After finishing the client’s project and shipping that off to her, it was over to Plain & Simple Press Press to update the last of the dedicated web pages for the three FREE books I’ve been publishing there. A PDF for the entire first section of If You’d Asked Me is now online. How exactly one uses a PDF as bathroom reading escapes me. And bathroom reading is what it’s intended for.

Got a message from a reader who kindly passed along her experience reading the PDF for The Complete Writer. She said it looks fine on her PC but is not visible on her iPhone or IPad.

Hmmm… So I’ll have to figure out what the deal is with that. Later.

It’s almost 5 p.m. I forgot to pick up something at Leslie’s yesterday and should go over there right now, since they’re closed tomorrow.

But it’s rush hour.

But it’s non-rush hour: NO one is in town.

Guess I’d better get up and get down there, before it’s too late.

And so, away…

Some Punkins!

How d’you like this mess?

And this one?

And how would you like to hit this chunk of concrete in your car or truck, while you’re tooling up the alley?

Guaranteed to take out your oil pan!

That crap is the dried-out remains of my former neighbor Sally’s backyard landscaping, which the new young owners have hacked out and dumped, higgledy-piggledy, into the alley. It’s actually less of a mess than it was: at first they just dumped it all over the thoroughfare. After a week or so, they (or someone) went out there and stacked it against the kids’ wall. More or less. Except for the chunks of concrete, which they left there to catch an unwary motorist.

See that thing that looks like a shrub somebody yanked out by the roots and threw on the ground? That’s a juniper. Juniper is one of the most flammable plants you can put in your yard. And all that loose debris? It’s been there a good ten days: drying out in 108-degree heat. It is, in a word, a pile of tinder.

The day after tomorrow is the Fourth of July.

Every July 4, people sneak into the alleys — ours included — to shoot off marginally legal and illegal fireworks. Our idiot legislators, who confuse “fireworks” with “firearms” and so must preserve our right to carry them, did away with all state regulation of consumer fireworks. They did allow a few cities to lay down limits…but their workaround for that was to pass another law stating that cities and counties cannot tell retailers not to sell any fireworks they please — whether or not said fireworks are illegal within the city limits;.

Right. Got that?

City to Morons: You can buy these things that will blow off your hand and blast out your eyes but you can’t set them off.

Morons to City: Sure, boss. Yup yup yup!!!

Phbhphbhthphththt!

So now every July 4 and every New Year’s, we have chuckleheads blasting powerful, dangerous fireworks in every neighborhood. And since some of these things are illegal to shoot off inside the Phoenix city limits, they sneak into the alleys to play, where they think they won’t be seen.

Fun, eh?

Well, my back wall is covered with a vine called cat’s claw. Satan and Proserpine planted it there, and I’ve let it grow because I like a whole lot of privacy around my pool. And everywhere in my backyard, for that matter. The building code forbids a backyard fence higher than six feet, but nowhere is there any law that says ornamental plants growing along a back wall can’t be as high as you like. So one way get around this regulation — other than ignoring the law and stacking block eight or ten feet high — is to plant oleanders, vines, and other plants that will block the curious and the criminal from peering into your backyard.

Cat’s claw can pile up on your fence to make a ten- or twelve-foot high barrier. But of course…it’s a plant. Far as I can tell, it’s no more flammable than any other ordinary plant — nothing that I’ve looked up mentions flammability as a problem, in the way that juniper and eucalyptus and cypress are problems. That notwithstanding, Gerardo keeps it trimmed up about four feet off the ground. Still…it is a plant. And there is a lot of it. And people who sneak into alleys to shoot off their illegal fireworks do not give one thin damn about the safety of your property.

Nor, speaking of thin damns, do the neighbors. Their piles of debris are easily three to four feet deep. If that stuff catches fire, the likelihood that it will jump across the alley and set my landscaping plants alight is extremely high. Not just the cat’s claw, but the palm trees (four of them) and the citrus and the devil-pod tree and the paloverde and the olive and the …yeah: and the roof of the house. All it will take is a stiff breeze — like the one we had late this afternoon — to spread sparks from here to Hell.

So this morning I went over and visited the guy who seems to be in charge. Explained the problem. Would he please have that stuff hauled off, it being illegal to dump in the alley?

He refused. By way of blowing me off, he actually said (can you believe this?) that the City’s bulk trash collection was supposed to come by before July 4.

That’s the day after tomorrow. Did I mention that?

Well, anyway: no. Look it up online, where it’s always posted. They won’t even start bulk collection in this area until July 30.

My insurance agent advises that I should call the city and launch a complaint. He thinks everything possible needs to be done to eliminate risk of a house fire.

My son, who also is in insurance, thinks this would cause neighbor trouble, big time. He suggests making a record to the effect that I asked them to get rid of the flammable debris — like sending them a registered letter! My insurance company would then have a paper trail so as to file a claim against their insurance company.

Heee! This is supposed NOT to cause neighbor trouble?

😀

Even if a registered letter could get there by tomorrow(!), that sounds like an exercise in futility. But I do have a record: my camera dates its pictures. And I’ve just described my exchange with the jerk here in WordPress, which also dates content.

Interestingly, it appears that the guy is staying there. His decrepit truck has been parked on the street day and night — all night — for as long as the landscaping exploit has been going on. After I walked away, I heard the woman come outside and ask him what I wanted. So she does know that I asked him to clean up the mess.

I figure he must be a relative or a friend who agreed to help them with their landscaping project.

Whatever he is, he sure ain’t a landscaper!

What a mess they’ve made of Sally’s formerly dull but pleasant enough backyard. They’ve pulled out all the planting except three or four scrawny cape honeysuckle up against the back wall. And they’re spread some sort of dust-like top cover all over the back yard, with no break or planting or anything.

I don’t know what it is, only that it’s not quarter-minus. It’s like a fine dust. Weird.

These are the people who claim to want four children. They’ve already started toward that goal. Maybe they think they’ve made a giant sandbox???? I wouldn’t let a child play in that stuff on a bet: it’s Valley fever waiting to happen. And Other Daughter’s damned cats habitually used Sally’s gravel — real gravel, the heavy stuff — as their catbox.

Ugh! It won’t take long for those animals to saturate that powdery stuff with cat urine and cat shit. What on earth could they possibly be thinking?????

Anyway, absent certified letters, my plan is to go out there along about four or five p.m. on the Fourth, haul the hose with a sprinkler to the far side of the pool, and soak the bejayzus out of those vines. Get them all very, very wet, like totally drenched.

That way if a moron does get a fire started in that debris, sparks that hit the vines probably won’t set them alight. At least, given that cat’s claw supposedly isn’t extraordinarily flammable, there’ll be a fair chance that they’ll resist burning if they’re already good and wet.

If the wind comes up, though, there will be nothing I can do should sparks or embers reach that damn weeping acacia. Those trees are as flammable as eucalyptus — which is very — and the thing is a good 40 or 50 feet high.

Damn, but I’m tired of dealing with other people’s stupidity.

The Miracle of the Costco Budget

Yes, mirabilis! A miracle took place at Costco this morning, when I went over to the store on the fringe of Richistan to buy a $300 cash card with which to buy this month’s collection of goods, as per my latest budget scheme. As you’ll recall: the idea is to get a cash card that probably will cover a month’s worth of needed purchases and then STOP SHOPPING THERE if and when the cash runs out.

Because I had to buy a 50-pound bucket of chlorine pool tablets, I figured this trip would consume the proposed three hundred buckolas, and then some.

But…here’s the miracle: I actually overestimated what this month’s Costco shop would cost. I figured it would run about $230. Actually, knowing the way Life goes, I expected it to go higher than that. In fact, it was $220 — including a year’s worth of chlorine for the pool.

Item after item cost less than expected, starting with the chlorine itself: $80, not $90. The bathroom towels needed to replace the frayed, shredding set I have: less than $20, not $30. Pork loin: $12, not $18. I figured the total would come to around $228; it was actually $208. Well. Plus $11.52 in tax.

That was with the $80 bucket of chlorine plus the 8.6% tax on the stuff!

Without that once-a-year pool chemical purchase, a similar shop would have cost about $135, well under two hundred bucks.

This morning I bought a $300 card for in-store purchases and a $60 card for gasoline. Since I recently bought gas, at most I’ll spend only $30 of that $60…but possibly not even that. Last month the car ran for a full 30 days without a refill.

So. I may be able to get by with a $200/month Costco budget, and maybe even a $30 to $40 budget for gasoline.

Reaching the La-La-Land budget goal of $1375/month is out of the question. Costs on the house plus doctor bills, vet bills, dentist bills, car mechanic bills, and whatnot push average monthly spending to $1750 a month. But even if that’s the case, in theory by sequestering Social Security and staying within that $1750 monthly goal, some 10 grand would be left to rebuild the now vacant Emergency Savings fund. Keeping Costco spending under $200 a month and not buying a lot of groceries elsewhere should go a long way toward making that possible.

I hope.