June 11, 2020

Yesteryear
One year ago today: June 11, 2019, Lebanon, TN
Five years ago today: June 11, 2015, an Arduino afternoon.
Nine years ago today: June 11, 2011, no blu-ray yet.
Random years ago today: June 11, 2017, beware of “application” forms.

           Today, read fast. I’m hungry, famished actually, and there is no place to eat. Here’s the day. Up early and into the clinic for my shots. You don’t need to know this but the permanent meds I take for blood pressure—very common in America, have always made my veins hard to find. It was an hour, but I don’t mind and you know why? Because we have to go downstairs and when done, they always get me the greatest cup of coffee in town. Or it could be that is my first cup often in over a day of fasting. By now you’ve met son of son of Pete the Cactus. Not a typo. This photo from Harbor Heights, where Alaine reports the successful transplant of the “friendly cactus”. Mine all failed. It is easy to see the new growth.

           Yes, there is a problem with my eyes, not serious, but not to remain untreated. After extensive bright light beams and questioning, mostly about whether I get headaches, an MIR is planned. You see, my co-pay on eye stuff is 20% and these scans have a reputation for being drastically over-priced.
           Alas, they will not give me a copy of the pictures that show the raised optic nerve. We are talking just a few cells deep but it can be a harbinger for diabetes. I do not want to develop that, I know people who have died from it. Chances are I’ll pay up and proceed. The answer is no, I so rarely get headaches that I treat each one with extreme concern.

           The scooter has been spotted. Twice actually, and you have to decide if this is a drone picture, hovering just outside the property line. Yeppers, that is the perp’s truck, but as usual, the police have trouble arresting the real criminals. They say there is “not enough evidence” to charge anybody. Proving once again it is much easier to throw your ass in jail for some speeding ticket than some actual crime. All I know for now is they are looking into it. The outcome is predictable. They’ll recover it and send me the bill, letting the criminals off with a warning. Welcome to America.

           [Author's note: it is illegal to recover your own property from anybody who steals it. That right was once part of the the frontier spirit that made America great. They hung horse thieves. Like they should looters and progressives, for theft. Nobody says it cures the problem, but there are no repeat offenders.]

Picture of the day.
Steve, the King of Cool.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           In another spot of good news, the missing money orders have turned up. I knew they would. Does everyone recall this from a month or so back? The letter arrived the blind folded, but no money orders. I have a system around here, so I knew they had been mailed. Want the explanation? Say yes, there is nothing else going on around here. Okay, the other end was not yet familiar with my standard practice of never putting more than one item in an envelope. Can you figure out this security measure? The money orders went in separate envelopes. Thus, I got up and did the final check before sealing (letters are only sealed moments before mailing, again, security). I saw two slips of paper in each.
           You got it. She opened the one containing the blind, and only later found the second letter with both items. Why the blind? TMOR readers, a blind is a folded up piece of paper that makes it difficult for the authorities to oil the letter. This is a spray they use that turns the envelope paper clear so they can read the contents until the oil evaporates. And you thought America was a free country? Only by comparison.

           The call went out Tuesday for everybody to show up at the old clubhouse on this day at 6:30PM. Except for Trent who had to babysit, everybody was there including associate and honorary members. As usual, the club dominates the place when present and the staff love the excitement. Not to mention a variety of new products were produced for testing. My offering was tops, one of those hand-held infra-red thermometers.
           We decided if your forehead is less than 94°F, you don’t have Covid-19. If it is less than 75°F, you work for the police department. The hilarity went on for three hours, the spread of topics left many of the regulars stunned. I doubt many of them [the barflies] even followed the vocabulary. The major topic was drones. It turns out the trailer court’s idiot 2D virtual reality helmet I tried back in 2016 is the only hands-on in the club. Two months later we disbanded, so it remains a unique flight.
           I picked up the tab for the whole meeting. That includes a demo of my ability to read the crowd with the juke box. I told all the women that came over it was JZ so they were all over him like a herd of turtles. He was still there when I left at 9:30PM. So what does he do? He took after the barmaid, who was the best-looking but also the most married. Duh, there JZ.

           The [above] photo? I dunno. If anybody can identify this plant, leave me a comment.

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