It’s a good thing I didn’t brag about my networking abilities. I just spent 5-1/2 hours in Ft. Lauderdale over that Netgear from last week and it still does not work. The people in India are becoming like old friends, waiting for my calls. It is not far-fetched to say that I’m popular over there. They still can’t figure out how I know so much about Delhi and Connaught Place.
The problem is that the entire router setup works fine, including detecting the wireless broadcast but there seems to be some switch, probably software, that locks out reception and I cannot find it. Mike was not answering his phone, so it looks like I’ll be making another trip out there some time soon. Mike had better come up with some better serial numbers before the warranty people catch on. However, it is plain they do not have the capability to track the actual router, just the date it was sold.
JP went to his dad’s birthday party, that would be his 87th or so. It was on the blustery side so I sat in the arm chair with “The Bonfire of the Vanities” and promptly fell asleep for half the afternoon. When will I learn not to read in that chair, it is just too comfortable.
For that reason, I walked over to Dunkin Donuts. Whenever noisy people see somebody reading a book, they will sit right at the next table in an otherwise empty café so they can share their conversation with you. No chance of a nap in public in Florida. Earlier, I had gone to Borders and read a chapter on CSS. Is it something worthwhile pursuing? It is hard to tell if it is worth it because I cannot find out what it pays.
The book is another murder mystery. It has that strange “Eastern” tendency toward over-description. Eastern means New York, a place I’ve only flown over. The characters are believable but the author (Wolf) floods the work with unnecessary depictions, plainly shooting for movie rights. This book will greatly benefit from a Reader’s Digest chop.
The author has that annoying bent of presenting ordinary events as somehow being classier when they happen to the rich. He is also mildly guilty of trying to impress the reader with his knowledge of things expensive. Very ho-hum. It takes him three paragraphs to describe a raincoat and goes on about shoe brands, elements of no consequence whatsoever to the plot so far.
Ah, but the pineapple is starting to grow, at least I think so. The green leaves are making a good start in the outdoor pot. I’ll have to email Wallace again to find out the record height. I am sure it is over a foot so I’ll make sure I remind him that he had to keep his indoors. Mine is in the outdoor window planter.
If you look closely, you can see the dry outer leaves, then the pale green leaves that are turning brittle. Then, smack in the center, new green growth. Wallace’s tree grew a tall, spindly stem. I was not sure at that time that pineapples grew into a tree.
