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Pazootchkie! Sitting here avoiding work on the next installment of “In Their Own Words” by poking my nose into WordPress comment alerts, I happened to glance out my office window. Readers I think, judge I spend too much time looking out that window. You could make a case. I’d be inclined to argue. First, because I’d rather argue than eat ice cream. Second, because that window has written more than one post and contributes regularly to other works in the works.
It is research. Talking to my accountant about enhancing tax write-off.
Recently, the temperature outside was forty-one degrees. That is five degrees Celsius for both of my international readers. Got that? Not time to get the seed packets out, but then not arctic.
Snow! Not itty-bitty snow. Not half-hearted snow. Big blinking flakes coming down like Ste. Neve had a boxful of snow nearing “use before date” she wanted not to waste. Flakes so big, if you walked outside and one struck you a glancing blow to the head, you’d suffer a first-rate concussion.
One might think that snow caused by Glomal Warning. But how can that happen? Like, we have a Democrat in the White House and everything. Ah, yeah. Former President Trump’s fault. I forgot. Things have been that goofy. Even when I try to pay attention, I still end up lost in the fog of
Frequently I’ll joke about “both of my readers” or both of my “international readers.” That is short-side hyperbole, as I actually have five followers.
Fog: come to see that WP stats leave a lot to be desired. Right away, they are not always dependable. Here’s a for instance: how can one have ten views and twelve likes? It’d be kind of slick if I could convince myself I write an occasional piece so durned good folks like it before they’ve read it. Hardly likely. How about this – ten views and fifteen visitors? What did the other five visitors do while they were here? Visit the snack bar? “Yunh, Imogene, the guy kint write fer nothin, but the popcorn here is real good!”
It is a synch issue. Once again probably accused of “black and white” assessments, I ask if statistics are undependable, why have them at all? Compute power and data storage could be put to better use. Oh, no, wait. Undependable facts are the backbone of modern society.
Anyway, I’m always delighted to see a new flag or one I’ve not seen for a while pop-up on the countries breakout. If you’re new, an infrequent visitor, or passing through, glad to see you. (Stop by the snack bar.) Drop a comment. Comments are free and they don’t have to be madly complimentary or even complimentary at all – like “Just stopped by, found your post interesting.” Doesn’t say you liked it, agreed with it, or would be back. Just says you found it interesting. I dunno, like a toothache is interesting.
You could even point out I spelled a word incorecctly or my grammer is bad. I mean if you are quick1 enough to see it wasn’t something I did intentional.
Really, I’ll judge what of what’s here has appeal. Of greater benefit, it may raise my interest in welding class. Might convince me to incorporate translation, though the good “translator plug-in” I see will soon be deprecated. I believe my former profession was and remains home to voodoo practitioners. Not the programmers, the “design” engineers and “marketing” twits.
In something of a fog, dealing with another tacky problem. Mousepad Creep. It’s legit. Do not believe there will be a vaccine for it any time soon. Healthcare priorities and all, you know. Let me explain.
Working away at the keyboard, I notice my mousepad2 tends to creep away, just beyond comfortable reach, no further. Starting out in line with my keyboard, suddenly, the mousepad, holding the mouse captive, has crept eight inches north of the keyboard. That demands I reach to move the cursor to where it is for the moment needed. Lazy by nature, I drag the mousepad back to where it started, which economizes my right arm movement, since it must travel south for my right meathook to resume the keyboard waltz anyway. Maybe not a waltz, more a tango as it rejoins my left hand, which during the mousepad adventure waits impatiently.
Several times during any keyboard session this sneaky migration takes place. Yup, had this mouse balls or technically “a ball” I’d have thought it was sticking to the pad, requiring more effort and more friction, resulting in justified creep. Nope. My mouse is sexless, has a laser sensor. Am I neo-tech or what?
Put up with this for several weeks. Spending more time at the keyboard now, naturally I noticed the aggravating phenomenon more. It reached the point where bold action became necessary.
I nailed the damned mousepad to the desktop. Mine is a wooden desk with an ornate inlay, so nails would suffice. Had it been metal, it would have been necessary to manufacture a steel frame to imprison the pad such that I could weld it to the desktop. My welding classes are not yet underway, so that would have caused yet more agitation. More on “welding class” later. I think.
If you’ve experienced the same mousepad migration, you’re curious about result. Suspect few of you use real keyboards and a real mouse with pad because it’s not tech-trendy, bespeaks old school, and unless you’re a cable-and-adapter-saver, requires additional equipment and commits a port which otherwise would be dispatched to an auxiliary ZoomSnoop camera, or a freestanding speaker system to serenade you with Malicious Max and the Steelheads’ latest download, “I Loved My Cat so I Killed Her.”
It didn’t work. Well, it did kind of. The mousepad remains in-line with the keyboard. My problem now is that my whole damned desk over a period of forty minutes or so, travels north, dragged by the mousepad’s need to escape.
The first time I noticed it, it was because my desk had moved so far, causing me to lean forward to reach the keyboard, I fell out of my chair. This resulted in a cluster of random letters, which spellchuck rearranged into something of a sentence clearly superior to any I’d managed the entire morning. That certainly will be part of a later post.
I am now spending time in the garage, building a trailer hitch of sorts to attach my chair to the desk. I’ll not be defeated by a wandering mousepad.
The heavenly gate gold and pearly,
Saw St. Peter one day a bit surly.
The man with a plan,
Had arrived at the gate three days early.
Unrequited love is obsession.
Proof that women are smarter than men exists in that every woman says so.
Fiction is a pack of lies masquerading as truth.
[Or should that be “Fiction is truth masquerading as a pack of lies”?]
Delving deeper into unrequited love, one-sided love is indeed obsession. If it’s not. It will be. If the unloving party isn’t shot in the patazoochkie3 by Cupid. For love to work, bet your bundle that it must work both directions.
The balance of life’s endeavors would benefit from understanding that. You cannot expect to be worshipped and not worship in return. You cannot expect consistent praise if you’re not willing to praise others before or after receiving the gift of their praise. Unfortunately, there are many out there spending most of their time being takers, seldom givers, or only givers to ‘prime the pump,’ lying about prospects for consistent tit-for-tat or as it were tête-à-tête, emotional or otherwise.
Finding yourself in such a one-sided affair, recognize it, respect that it likely won’t change, suck it up, and move on.
The validity of that sorry truth doesn’t limit itself to emotions. Covers about every aspect of human interaction. Recognize “takers.” Strive not to be one.
I’ve said it to others. Many times before. Bears repeating. There are two ways to profit from a smile.
Smile on a stranger.
You don’t know. That might be exactly what they need, exactly when they need it.
Smile on someone you don’t like.
Or in the unlikely possibility such a person exists, on someone who doesn’t particularly care for you. Derive satisfaction from the thought that you’ll twist their shorts into a breath-denying knot while they try to figure out just what the hell you’re up to.
Either way, you’ll find in smiling you’ve done something to your own outlook. Something good. Not sold on the idea? Consider this: a smile don’t cost you nothing.
I can do that. Ramble. I’ve a license, as indicated by the blog title. This is a ramble, and that, friends, is what ramblers do – they ramble whenever and wherever their feeble little minds take them. And I have a boatload of feeble.
However, I see one, that I’m about to fall out of my chair again, and two, this “ramble” has already reached the point I’ve likely lost my readers to ennui or fatigue.
A bit of too bad. I will break this post, intended for next Wednesday, February 3rd. I’ll post the balance of it then. Kind of a shame as there is a “Claxbury” segment and the promised explanation of “welding class” among other delights. You’ll just have to wait. Until Wednesday.
— Notes –
1 Quick. Not in the sense of fast or rapid. Quick as in nimble-minded or sharp.
2 I do not use the laptop’s integrated keyboard or mousepad. The Devil himself designed laptop keyboards. Many men, and probably a few women, have large hands, thus, large fingers. Miniaturized keycaps have great difficulty realizing which of three or four closely grouped keys are intended when stubby fingers press. The solution juxtaposed keycaps have devised, is a lottery whereby they take turns signaling their character across the bus. Their choice is more often than not incorrect, rarely humorous, and throws spellcheck into a frenzy of feeling loved and needed, and a cacophony of readable nonsense results. (I heard that snicker.)
3 Pazoochkie is an exceptionally complex word; noun, adverb, adjective, or verb depending on context. I’m reasonably sure it can be a preposition, but I’m linguistically rusty right now, addressing myself to mostly English-speaking intellect. If you wait on me to explain conjugation, gender, and meaning, it’s not gonna happen any time soon.