Wow. I’ve been doing a piss-poor job of updating the blog here.
Yeah, yeah, all the normal reasons. Job really stressful. Busy with stuff at home. But ultimately it really is about prioritization: I’ve doing plenty of stuff with my quotations blog, and even my gaming blog has been getting some love.
What I usually do here has traditionally been “my life” (boring), “my pop culture stuff” (uninspiring of late), and “my politics”.
Aha.
Politics has been — a wildly stressful hot mess. Trump & Co. are simultaneously terrifying and fury-inducing in their smug proto-fascism and very direct threat to people I love (and, hell, to me under certain not-necessarily-the-worst-case scenarios). Biden’s problems filled me with existential dread (since somewhat alleviated by Harris — but that’s a whole other set of posts). And, with everything else going on, it’s just hard to write about and face that terror and dread and fury in a way that isn’t just incoherent keyboard smashing.
Sigh.
(And, yes, feel free to mutter “Trump derangement syndrome” … and keep walking on.)
Can’t promise I’ll be more active here, but it’s bubbled to the top of my attention again, so … let’s hope for the best.
I collect and research quotations, to a degree that some might deem obsessive. The fruits of my amateur labor are stashed at my Wish I’d Said That (wist.info) website.
The other day I was doing a deep dive into quotations by Judith Martin, a one-time journalist who shifted into a columnist and bookwriting career as “Miss Manners.” Martin’s etiquette work is witty, thought-provoking, grounded, and delightful to read.
I’d pulled together a (large) number of quotations by her, grouped by books she’d written, and decided to find URLs to those books online so that I could provided proper, linked citations for them. A quote without citation is nearly useless; a citation without a link to prove it exists is merely problematic.
While I’m a longtime fan of Google Books, I’ve of late become an even bigger fan, as a researcher, of the Internet Archive. Among its many other invaluable resources, its online collection of scanned eBooks is invaluable in finding or confirming the existence of quoted text, in a way that access to the biggest research library would find challenging.
So I searched at IA for books by “Martin, Judith,”, and amidst the various Miss Manners books (and books by other people with that name), I ran across a volume that made me do a double-take:
An oddly familiar cover
Huh, I said, looking at it. That reminds me of a play I was in back in … 2nd grade, I think.
And it was, in fact, my stage debut. Not that I have an extensive theater career, but I did a lot of plays in school, and in college, and even a couple of things since then, and this, this reminded me of that very first play.
I didn’t remember the title, but I remembered cardboard cutout trees that looked like that.
And I opened the book — and, by golly, this was in fact the book (and script) for that play. The Tree Angel, published in 1962.
It’s a frothy bit of children’s theater silliness, about a trio of trees chopped down by a woodcutter, rescued by an angel who gives them legs, letting them out-run the woodcutter who comes back to drag them off.
While written for three kids (as trees) and a couple more as the angel and woodcutter (which can actually be performed by a single person), it can also be expanded to fit a full class, with three speaking trees, a bunch of relatively silent trees, and (in the case of Mrs. Bogosian’s class) two woodcutters.
I was Woodcutter #2. And I had one line. And here it is, as illustrated by Remy Charlip:
“Trees can’t run!”
“Trees can’t run!”
Of such lines are great theater careers made. Or not, but it stuck with me all these years, so we’ll say great memories of theater careers, instead.
We woodcutters didn’t have actual axes, of course, but painted, corrugated cardboard cutouts (I had the green-handled axe, much less exciting than the red-handled axe, but I was, after all, only Woodcutter #2.)
Fortunately, given the fragility of corrugated cardboard, and the propensity of 2nd grade boys to want to chop at things with a prop like that, it was a one-night show, suitable for parents. I have to wonder if there are pictures lurking in my Mom’s photo albums somewhere.
As it turns out, the author of the play was not Judith “Miss Manners” Martin, but a child theater artist named Judith Martin who passed away a decade ago. She co-founded the Paper Bag Theater in 1960, focused on contemporary theater for children using everyday themes and props. It looks like she had a marvelous career.
I was a bit disappointed to learn in the end that a seminal literary and theatrical experience for me wasn’t actually crafted by “Miss Manners,” providing some sort of subliminal influence over me all these years — but it was still amazing running across the book unexpectedly, and the backpaths of memory it took me along.
I got word today that my online friend, Les Jenkins, passed away. He was suffering from too-late-diagnosed pancreatic, et al. cancer, knew he was dying soon, and, after a few weeks of hospice care, did.
Dammit.
Les started his “Stupid Evil Bastard” blog a little bit after I started this one. We crossed path fairly early on, ended up being fairly regular commenters back and forth in different social media, and eventually developed one of those weird Internet friendships that the 21st Century has wrought. We never met in person, I regret to say, but we discussed things online, we chatted online back and forth, we actually talked on the telephone multiple times (as we older folk do), and we even did, over the last decade, several podcasts/vlogs where we just nattered on about politics and pop culture and philosophy and life.
And now, as they say, he’s gone.
Les was smart and clever. He was a deft hand at PC technology, that being his career path. He had a dry sense of humor, and a deep devotion to the people and causes he held dear. He no pretenses to personal virtue (thus the name of his blog), but never became utterly cynical about human nature (thus the subtitle to his blog, “What the fuck is wrong with you people?”
Les was a firm atheist. He’d reached that conclusion through consideration and logic and reasoning. He could be merciless in dealing with theists (usually fundies) who would come to his site to debate him or, worse, preach at him. Yet even though I’m not of that persuasion, he never subjected me to his razor tongue, probably because I wasn’t interested in debating him on the subject. We’ll all eventually learn the truth (or not be in a position to care about it), and both of us were willing to play that long game.
Which turned out to be far shorter for Les than it should have been.
So on the one hand, it would be presumptuous of me to consider him in any sort of afterlife, looking down with that crooked smirk at the world. But my own belief, or weakness, as someone who believes in such an afterlife (though clueless as to how it’s constituted), is to hope that someday I’ll get a chance to sit down with him, in “person” this time, and chat over what he’s learned. He’s definitely the sort of company I’d want in such a state.
And, of course, if he was right, neither of us will know otherwise. So either way, it’s all fine.
I’ve lost family members over the years. I was there when my dad passed. But Les — a peer, a friend, someone who went from “Oh, hey, another tweet” to “he’s gone” in a seeming heartbeat — that’s a wake-up call to the transitory nature of life, a reminder of the mortality of anyone (self included).
Discussions of death should be about the subject who’s gone, but inevitably are about the person writing about them.
Anyway …
… thanks, Les. You helped me through some PC tech issues, sure. You engaged me in interesting conversation and consideration of my own beliefs. You were a friendly presence in my life, and my life was better for you being in it. Even without an afterlife, your impact on others around you lives on. Rest in peace, sir.
In which I wax lyrical over a kitchen appliance, which turns out to be pretty special.
When I was growing up, I was jealous of the toasters other people had. Because when the toast was done, they went SPROING and flew the toast up practically into the air. Or actually into the air, if you were on TV.
I thought this was sooooo cool.
(It’s such a popular gag that you can find at leastthreeother scenes from I Love Lucy using it.)
Our toaster, however, didn’t do that fun thing. It went “Click,” and the toast slowly, slowly rose. How boring.
Over the years, I came to value our family toaster for its clean, classy look (and, at the same time, stopped actually wanting to use my toaster as a projectile weapon). And at some point in my life, after I was on my own, I bought one.
Which wasn’t easy, because it was, y’know, vintage in some fashion. They didn’t make them any more. So I ended up buying one on (if I recall correctly) eBay. And, when it arrived, mirabile dictu, it actually worked.
And Margie got used to my peculiar toaster, and it looked pretty on the counter, and that was the end of the story.
Except … it wasn’t. Because it’s not just any toaster, it turns out. It’s a Sunbeam Radiant Control Toaster, first invented in 1949, and according to this article, it’s the Bestest Toaster Ever.
Advertisement from 1952
Or, heck, watch this video, that talks about not just how it’s the Bestest Toaster Ever, but how all the really cool stuff works:
Sunbeam Radiant Control Toaster T-20C, on our clearly crowded kitchen counter.
I believe my parents had a T-35, which had the yellow Sunbeam logo on the front, and the darkness dial on the side, but no etching. It was made 1958-1967, which would line up neatly with being a wedding present.
A T-35 like I grew up with (photo via automaticbeyondbelief.org)
Sunbeam stopped making these beauties in the late 1980s, as they were simply more complex and expensive to manufacture than those ones that were so popular on TV.
And, unlike normal toasters, mine isn’t scary, either. Unless you start poking a knife into it WHICH YOU SHOULD NEVER DO OR YOU WILL DIE.
All of this was a lot of time to write about a toaster, even if it’s the Bestest Toaster Ever (or even “Automatic Beyond Belief!”). But it is pretty spiffy, and evocative of my childhood (and adulthood), so … perfect for today.
Not a lot of theater-going, but an MCU rewatch helped the numbers
While I managed to get back into the theaters for part of 2020, overall film watching still took a hit from normal. This was the year that we got much more into streaming, though we still maintain a healthy DVD/Blu-Ray collection. For 2021, I recorded in Letterboxd:
44 movies watched.
14 movies watched for the first time.
3 movies watched in a movie theater.
30 movies rewatched.
40 movies liked. ❤
24 movies (re)watched from the Marvel Cinematic Universe
So MCU flicks made up over half the movies watched, both rewatches and new releases.
Highest Ranking movies watched:
5.0 – Fellowship of the Ring
4.5 – Howl’s Moving Castle
4.5 – The Avengers
4.5 – Captain America: Winter Soldier
4.5 – The Death of Stalin
4.5 – Sneakers
4.5 – Black Panther
4.5 – Ant-Man and the Wasp
4.5 – Ice Station Zebra
Lowest Ranking:
3.0 – Iron Man 3
3.0 – Thunder Force
3.0 – Aquaman
3.0 – Conan the Barbarian
Month with the Most Movies Seen: April (8)
Months without Movies: February, August
I read a fair amount this year, though less than usual.
The good news is, I keep track of the books I read at Goodreads.com.
The bad news is, I don’t always do a good job of it, though, especially when it comes to graphic novels, because those read so relatively quickly. So I know when Goodreads says I read 56 books this year, that’s arguably inaccurate.
The overall numbers are down from the past — I get into the non-fiction books below, but from a fiction standpoint, not being in the office, I didn’t as regularly take my lunchtime walk as I have previously. My bad.
Much of the year was spent re-reading / catching up on favorite book series. Two new (disappointing) installments were added to Cole & Bunch’s Sten series. I caught completely up with Gail Carriger’s various steampunk romances, as well as Jack Campbell’s Lost Fleet space opera multi-series. I also caught up with the latest Charles Stross Laundry titles, and read some more Terry Pratchett (though not as much as he deserves).
From a new series standpoint, not much beyond discovering Seanan McGuire’s InCryptid series, an urban fantasy (even when in the countryside) about a family of Buffy the Vampire Slayers who are also conservationists and cryptozoologists. It’s pretty cheap fun, nice world building, and I’ll be plowing through many more of them in the New Year.
Goodreads (and my Kindle) rank things from 1-5 stars. Only three books earned that rating from me this year (with links to my reviews):
(I didn’t review HtMaW beyond the rating — I think it just hit all the notes right for what it was.)
Most of what I read-read was fiction. Non-fiction works completed were few on the ground, largely because the COVID Pandemic continued to impact both my commuting to work and longer-range driving during which I usually listen to such things.
The problem with providing bios of people say cool things is realizing when people tend to die.
So I run a (much more active) side blog, focused on quotations: WIST.info (WIST = “Wish I’d Said That”). Quotations have been a labor of love for me for a lot of years, the close thing I have to a pure personal hobby.
A sample quotation … about quotations
I have about 3,000-odd people who I quote there, and for each I track name, birth/death date, a few words of biography, and an image. Because knowing who said something, when, and what their background is can be useful in understanding what was said. Also, I’m a history geek, so there’s that.
For the last month or so I’ve been slowly crawling through that list of quoted folk to confirm, for those of the contemporary era, if they are still alive. It’s kind of embarrassing (as an history geek) to cite someone who died five years ago with just his birth date. Unprofessional, you know.
Anyway, updating biography snippets to include death dates has been kind of disturbing, emotionally. I have to check everyone where I just have a birth date, no matter what it is. But I can, actuarially, make a few preliminary assumptions.
Folk born in the 1910s are almost certainly dead.
Folk born in the 1920s-30s are probably dead, but not necessarily. And not jumping to that conclusion is important, because I have a parent and a couple of in-laws that fall into that category and they are not dead and I do not want them to be, so I keep rooting (and keep wincing).
On the other hand, folk born in the 1990s (and later) are probably not dead … but they need to be checked any, because accidents, disease, drug abuse, etc. may very well have taken such people.
And then there are people in-between. Like, oh, say, myself, born in the 1960s. A majority are not dead (yet), but a disturbingly large minority are, again due to accidents, disease, abuse, or just an “early” death.
Remember, Man, that dust thou art and to dust thou shall return.
I have not reached my Biblical three-score-years-and-ten, and an still enough below the US average (esp. given my economic bracket) that it’s not too worrisome. But being reminded by research that Things Happen, and there are famous people born later than me who have gone to join the Choir Invisible is … not reassuring.
And that I have loved ones who are on the far side of those numbers, even less so.
Memento Mori – “Vanitas” by Philippe de Champaigne
One would think collecting quotations would be, like collecting stamps, an very cool and unemotional and non-risky passtime.
For the record (and since I’ve been so lax at blogging here this year):
Well, that was sure a year.
COVID-19 dominated our lives in a dozen different ways, as it did everyone else’s. In our case, we went from Empty Nesters to a Fully Full House. First James came home from school for Spring Break … and never went back, as the school went all-remote for the rest of the semester and this fall. And, of course, all those cool summer archaeology programs and internships were canceled, so he did some remote learning classes.
Then, once he was home, Dave’s mom, Gloria’s retirement community went on indefinite lockdown, so we had her move in with us. Dave’s office closed, sending him off to Work from Home. So all four of us got to rattle around together for months until it was safer and easier for Gloria to move back to her place.
On that work front, Dave’s still busy doing chief-of-staff and program management work at [REDACTED], albeit from a laptop and spare monitor on the breakfast room table. He hit two years tenure there this December, and is quite happy about it. Margie continues as the Human Resources Data Governance & Management Lead for [REDACTED], and has been recognized for her achievements by being handed even more big high-visibility projects. She was already full-time Work from Home; the biggest difference for her has been no trips out to the corporate HQ in [REDACTED].
James’ college career at Scripps has been turned into endless Zoom sessions. Fortunately, in our connected world, he’s stayed in touch with his friends. He’s completed the first half of his junior year, and plans a semester abroad in Sweden, focusing on Viking studies. Our cats, Kunoichi and Neko, at least, have enjoyed all the extra company.
Aside from that, things have been quiet. No live theater, no restaurant visits, no vacation travel. We did fly out to Scripps for Parents Day in February, and Margie and James made an isolated drive out there in the summer to donate James’ car (which was just accumulating dust and car insurance bills in a college parking building).
Aside from that it’s been sitting at home, cutting our own hair, ordering delivery from local restaurants to help them stay afloat, having video happy hours with friends and family, and staying safe for ourselves and our loved ones. We miss traveling, having folk over for game parties, and we’ll miss our Twelfth Night party this year, but we’ve been blessed in not having anyone in our immediate circle die or face permanent health damage from COVID-19, and we intend to keep it that way.
So, all in all, not the best of years, but a memorable one — and one we lived through. As always, being together makes both the occasional bumps survivable and the good times even better. So a very Merry Christmas (and other seasonal holidays and celebrations) to you all, and a Happy New Year, too.
For all that TV seems to be on, there are a lot of things we don’t watch.
This one is inspired by Les, who posted his version over here.
You never realize how much/little TV you watch until you fill this out. Put a ✔ by the shows you have watched more than 10 episodes of. How about you?
1. Grey’s Anatomy:
2. Stranger Things:
3. The Vampire Diaries:
4. The Walking Dead:
5. Fear The Walking Dead:
6. Dexter:
7. American Horror Story:
8. Orange is the New Black:
9. A Million Little Things:
10. This is Us:
11. The Simpsons: ✔ – I’ve never been a regular viewer, but have certainly watched more than 10 over the years.
12. New Amsterdam:
13. Manifest:
14. How To Get Away With Murder:
15. Breaking Bad:
16. Sons of Anarchy:
17. Scandal:
18. Riverdale:
19. The Good Doctor:
20. House of Cards:
21. Once Upon a Time:
22. House: ✔
23. True Detective:
24. Dr. Pimple Popper:
25. Power:
26. Empire:
27. One Tree Hill:
28. Supernatural:
29. Family Guy:
30. Santa Clarita Diet:
31. Shameless:
32. Pretty Little Liars:
33. Secret Life of an American Teenager:
34. Bones:
35. Criminal Minds:
36. The 100:
37. Chicago Fire:
38. Chicago Med:
39. The Resident:
40. Game of Thrones:
41. The Big Bang Theory: ✔ – we watched multiple seasons on DVD, but eventually stopped long before it ended.
42. It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia:
43. Lost:
44. The Sopranos:
45. NCIS:
46. NCIS Los Angeles:
47. NCIS New Orleans:
48. Law & Order SVU:
49. Gossip Girl:
50. How I Met Your Mother:
51. Blue Bloods:
52. Two Broke Girls:
53. The Office:
54. Blacklist:
55. Full House:
56. Fuller House:
57. Downton Abbey:
58. Hawaii Five-O: ✔ – this was only ever me, not Margie. Dropped after 3 seasons or so.
59. Big Mouth:
60. Last Man Standing:
61. Six Feet Under:
62. Wentworth:
63. Friends:
64. That 70s Show:
65. Girlfriends Guide to Divorce:
66. Heartland:
67. All-American:
68. Greek:
69. Yellowstone:
70. Better Call Saul:
71. You:
72. Rescue Me:
73. Scrubs:
74. Community:
75. Letter Kenney :
76. Kitchen Nightmares : ✔
77. The Masked Singer:
78. Robot Chicken:
79. Vikings:
80. Mind Hunters:
81. New Girl:
82. The Good Place:
83. Black Mirror:
83. Lucifer: ✔
84. Peaky Blinders:
85. iZombie: ✔ – we dropped this after a couple of seasons.
86. Parks and Rec:
87. Brooklyn 99:
88. Handmaid’s Tale:
89. Modern Family:
90. Smallville: ✔ – probably at least 10 in aggregate over the course of the series.
91. Seinfeld:
92. Gilmore Girls:
93. Charmed:
94. Private Practice:
95. Lost Girl:
96. True Blood:
97. Roswell:
98. Haven:
99. Mad Men:
100. Arrow: ✔ – and most of the CW Berlantiverse shows at one point or another, though the only one we still actively watch is Legends of Tomorrow.
A few comments:
That is a very weird list. Some of the shows are new, some old, some I’ve never heard of before. There are a number of them I watched an ep or two of before deciding it wasn’t my (or Margie’s) cuppa.
I watch even fewer mainstream-pop (or however you would categorize the above list) shows Les does, evidently.
Things we do pretty regularly watch, beyond what’s listed above: Rachel Maddow Show, Late Show with Stephen Colbert, Full Frontal with Samantha Bee, Whose Line Is It Anyway?, Supermarket Stakeout, The Profit, Miracle Workers, Forged in Fire, The Rookie, LEGO Masters, Legends of Tomorrow, Worst Cooks in America, Doctor Who (when it returns), Columbo (reruns). Occasionally we’ll run American Ninja Warrior, Shark Tank, or Beat Bobby Flay. That’s the current, rather sad, list, and it contains a lot more “reality” TV than I’d expected.
I don’t know that I read more or less this year than last, but the overall tally looks pretty impressive. Here’s my tally, courtesy of GoodReads (and a lot of work of my own putting the information in).
That shows up (currently) as 100 books read; that includes 50 graphic novels, along with 42 text novels (22 of them re-reads) and 8 audiobooks (non-fiction). Notable series I dove into the first time this year: Novik’s Temeraire series (in progress) and a good chunk of Lee’s Liaden books. Also reread all of Peters’ Cadfael mysteries and Zelazy’s Amber works.
There were also 2-3 virtual longboxes worth of comic books.
On the decorating of trees and how such decoration needs to be just so. If you ask me.
My family gets a great deal of amusement over my finicky nature about the Christmas tree, and that, even after the tree is decorated, I can still sometimes be found in the living room, rearranging ornaments.
(This is actually something I do during phone calls; it’s a way to occupy parts of my brain that don’t get engaged in aural communication. And, yes, there’s probably a bit of CDO involved, too.)
Contrary to popular belief, I do actually have some internal aesthetic rules I follow in this process; it’s not rearranging for the sake of rearranging.
(And, as a baseline, we have an artificial tree, because live trees don’t work well in Colorado and cut trees don’t last long enough for how long we keep the three up. Your mileage may vary. Ours has integrated lights on it, too. And I’m not a garland guy, but I can understand the appeal.)
Rule the First: Ornaments Hang
It hangs
Okay, that sounds pretty simple, but you’d be amazed how many ornaments end up draped over lower branches. Or sitting on branches.
One of the reasons to get an artificial tree is that you have some control over the tree branches, so you can get things out of the way, so that ornaments can hang.
Rule the Second: Ornaments face outward
This doesn’t apply to balls and other geometric solids as ornaments, but to figurines, disks, and other things that have a front and back.
You’d be amazed how many ornaments get hung and then, as the hanger turns away, twist and turn (because they are hanging) so that you end up staring at the back of the ornament. Which is probably not the idea.
Fortunately, ornament hangers are usually twistable, so you can adjust them at the branch or the ornament to make the ornament face outward and appeal to the viewer of the tree (who is, after all, probably not climbing up its trunk, unless it’s your cat).
Rule the Third: Be aware of similar ornaments
Very pretty (hanging) ornaments. Do you want to hang them right next to each other?
If you have three blown glass dragons, consider their position to each other. Maybe you put them all together, because you want to compare and contrast. Maybe you want them evenly separated around the tree so that wherever one stands one is visible. You probably don’t want them glommed on wherever.
Ditto for any other potential groupings (balls vs icicles, candy cane ornaments, etc.). The rule here is not specific, but just awareness.
Rule the Fourth: Think in three dimensions
Particularly with an artificial tree, ornaments can be hung toward the center of the tree, to create a depth of decoration. This also helps obscure giant tags to help you plug the electric lights together.
Rule the Fifth: Ornaments and lights interact
Have a transparent or translucent ornament? Consider positioning it (or the lights) so that there’s a light behind the ornament. (A window can be a light as well.) Alternately, with an opaque ornament, having a light in front of it can illuminate it nicely.
Rule the Sixth: Proportionality is pleasing
There should be some level of consistency of ornament density from top to bottom and around the tree (you can probably get away with fewer ornaments at the back of the tree, sure). Big clumps of ornaments and big gaps are probably not a good idea, unless they are, themselves, an intentional artistic arrangement.
Rule the Seventh: You can have too much of a good thing
Harold Lloyd really liked ornaments
This one is very subjective, but, basically, just because you have six crates of ornaments doesn’t mean you need to put all of them on the tree. Feel free to be picky — put your favorites up first, whether because they are particularly pretty or particularly sentimental.
(If you like really crowded trees, more power to you. But do it thoughtfully, not because By God I will put up ALL the ornaments!)
If you have ornaments you never get to, donate them to a local charitable thrift store; they really like ornaments, and someone may get a lot of joy from them.
Rule the Eighth: Nothing is ever perfect, so don’t get hung up on it
After all of the above, this one is kind of anti-climactic, but true. That’s why I fiddle with ornaments afterward; because I haven’t (completely) obsessed about getting it right the first time, and looking at something with fresh eyes, in different light, etc., can reveal opportunities for improvement. But …
Christmas tree decor is an iterative process
… it’s a never-ending series of tweaks. If that brings you happiness, as it does me, then go for it. If that’s not your bag, then just slam that stuff up there. I won’t judge.
Well, I will. But I’ll try to do so silently.
(But I won’t rearrange stuff on other people’s trees. That’d just be silly. And, more importantly, rude.)
* * *
Yeah, the above is all a little silly, an attempt to codify my personal aesthetic as a way of explaining why I keep shifting ornaments around. Take it with a grain of salt as hard and fast rules (as is true with any aesthetic judgment); if you find any of it useful advice, then that’s all I could hope for.
Being without a mobile phone for a week-plus sucks
So every year or so I see an eyerolling article on “I lived for a week without Google” or “I got rid of my Gameboy” or “I turned off my mobile phone and here’s how my life changed.”
Having been without a mobile phone for 9 days, I can tell you … it sucked.
(And, since I have a blog, I can kvetch about it at length. Feel free to ignore it.)
* * *
On Sunday the 9th, I found my phone — a Pixel 1 — was dead. Press a button, get a battery-and-lightning-bolt icon for a few moments. Plug it in, get the logo full-time, but no sign of charging.
Dammit.
Not my Pixel, but you get the idea
It took me a few days to go through all the diagnostics I could on my own. As it seemed to be a power problem, a lot of the recommendations for diagnosis and/or correction had to do with letting things fully discharge, letting things fully recharge (leave it on the charger for some hours), trying something, and, if that fails, try a full (dis)charge again.
By Tuesday, I had tried what I could, had scoured the Google for things to try, and starting to run into real problems with having a dead phone. So Tuesday night, I took it down to the local UBreakIFix where I had gotten a new battery installed back in May (which had been wonderful). The guy there assured me he could take a look at it that evening and have some answers.
Fast forward a couple of days, and multiple calls to the shop to get a status (which was mostly prefaced with “Oh, I was just working on it, I need to do this one more thing”). By Thursday evening, they had given up hope and said the only thing left was a motherboard problem.
Now … I’ve had this phone some years (a 1st Gen Pixel, as I noted, which was introed in 2016, which is like forever ago in phone years). So I wasn’t completely outraged that it had given up the ghost with some mysterious ailment. And I’d done some research in the meantime, and decided I wanted to continue on with a Pixel 4.
The one I (eventually) got was black, not orange
(Yes, I’ve read about the problems with the Pixel 4, most of which have to do with battery life. I’ve also read some post-release review saying, hey, y’know, if you’re not running movies and playing chip-burning games 24×7, the battery life is actually perfectly reasonable. Which, since I’m not in that heavy use category, sounded good to me.)
So Thursday evening we picked up my brick, and went over to the Verizon store. We get good discounts through Margie’s employer (who has been working with Verizon so long the company agreement number is a preposterously low value compared to where they are now).
I wanted a Pixel 4XL. And I wanted the 128Gb version.
Oooh, sorry, we are all out of 128s in the 4 and the 4XL. But we can order it and have it shipped to you.
I have been without a mobile for five days, with various dire results. Okay, fine.
Okay, that will be 3-5 business days.
Dammit.
Or, for $13, you can get it delivered at home tomorrow night by 8pm.
Sold.
Until the next day, when we hadn’t gotten any shipping info on the phone (just a receipt for the bill). And, when I contacted Verizon, I was told the order went in too late on Thursday evening, so it would be another business day.
Monday, by 8pm.
Dammit.
I did get them to reverse the damned $13, so that was … mildly less infuriating.
Monday rolls around. FedEx notes it will be delivered by 8pm, but has no more details. Oh, wait, maybe I can get more details, but I have to create a FedEx account which …
… gets validated by a code texted to my mobile. Which I don’t have.
Margie has to take Mom off to the doctor on Monday morning, but, hey, phone is due that night, right?
Well, apparently FedEx believes that “by 8pm” also includes “or eight hours earlier than that,” as we get notification that they tried, really-truly they did, at 11:59 am, but nobody was there.
Dammit.
So I can either accept delivery “by 8pm” on Tuesday (someone stay home and don’t even dare go to the bathroom, by gad!), or go by the FedEx facility after 6:15pm, but no later than 7pm when they close.
Well, it’s been a long day for me, and a longer one for Margie, but we tromp to FedEx because, dammit, I want my phone.
We’re delayed a few minutes in dealing with the fact that the email FedEx sent us with the address of the facility, when the address is clicked, points to (in retrospect) the geographical center of the city it belongs to (complete with turn-by-turn directions), rather than, as Google kept trying to tell us, a facility over near the airport.
Fortunately, we listened to Google, otherwise there would have been violence.
As there almost was when we showed up at 6:30pm at the FedEx facility, and were told by the guy behind the counter that, oh, sorry, that truck isn’t back yet.
Don’t peeve off my wife on customer service matters. She gets frightening.
The guy behind the counter quickly scrambled off into the warehouse and, lo and behold!, the truck was there, it just hadn’t checked in yet. He returned with.
My Phone.
Which I got up and running over the course of the rest of the evening, despite some really annoying aspects to Googles two-factor-authentication which almost kept me from doing the restore because it really, truly, certainly wanted me to confirm my identity logging into the phone by sending a text … to the phone … which it wouldn’t accept … because I wasn’t logged in.
The one advantage to the delays in getting the phone was that it meant the accessories (case, etc.) had plenty of time to arrive.
Anyway, I have my phone and, aside from weirdness on the company security side of things (which took up waaaaay too much of my time today), it is so nice to have my mobile back.
And, yes, this is a classic #FirstWorldProblem, but personally aggravating, regardless.
* * *
So, what were the problems of being without mobile phone?
Here were a few I noted:
All the security mavins recommend two-factor authentication for good security. I.e., not just a userid/password combo, but some physical thing you have that proves you are you, and not just some guy who stole a userid/password combo.
Most of these involved either some fancy code generator like Google Authenticator, or else, more simply, “We’re going to text you with a code, so plug the code into this screen to prove you are you.”
That’s all really awesome. Until the device that does all of that — the one you’ve installed an Authenticator on, or the one that has your pre-entered mobile number as the thing to text to — is kaput. Then all that happens is that you can’t get to the Authenticator, and you can’t receive texts …
… and various services who want to prove you are really you, can’t. So they declare you an electronic non-person.
This happened with some of my office application needs (where we use Okta authentication), but I also got picked up in a random check on reality by Twitter. Some applications allow for alternatives (“text you? call you? email you?”), but Twitter just have that one phone number it wants to text you at.
You can change that phone number, of course, but they need to text you to confirm it …
So that’s why I wasn’t on Twitter.
It’s also why I went radio silent on texting. Which is the main way I chat in passing with my Mom, but is also how some folk tried to reach me over those nine days.
Oh, yeah, no casual (or possibly life-saving) phone calls when not near a land line.
No Google Maps when driving places. No Audible books while driving places, either. The latter is annoying. The former is … weirdly 1980ish, and surprisingly disconcerting. Not just “I don’t know how to get there, how do I do it,” but even, “Well, I remember how to get there, but WTF is the traffic like and should I go this way or that?”
Okay, and, yes, a part of it was not being able to just look up stuff on the Internet, or check the news on the Internet, or take a photograph, or pull out data at will from my calendar or my contacts or my secure notes. This was annoying, but also made for weird times when it was, like, “Okay I am bored standing here waiting for the coffee to brew and what do I do aside from staring at the coffee as it brews?”
Which is all the more awkward when there are five other people on the elevator, or huddled around the coffee machine, and all of them are on their phones.
None of this turned turned out to be horrible. No tales of being stuck in the wilderness or attacked by zombies without my mobile. No never-to-be-seen-again photos of my baby’s first steps lost because I didn’t have my mobile working.
But it was annoying, and cropped up as a further annoyance on an ongoing random basis. Way too many moments of, “Oh, let me grab my phone and–” cut short. Way too many “Oh, if we can’t text you a code for us to use to validate your authenticity, we are going to close your account and destroy your life” moments (or what felt like them).
Again, yes, I know, First World Problem.
It was illuminating the degree to which we (I, at least) are dependent on mobile phone access, without serious preparation to work around the inconveniences (e.g., when vacationing somewhere with extortionate roaming charges). There are probably some profound lessons there about reliance on technology, and how our tools shape us as much as we use them, and perhaps even a nostalgic call out to a simpler time.
I don’t know about that. I just know that being without a mobile phone for nine days really sucked.
When I was unemployed for so long, the idea of even getting a job, let alone celebrating a six month anniversary, seemed like such a far way away.
Today I celebrated six months in the New Job, which means, I guess, that it’s no longer new (as I encounter people now who have been around a shorter time than I have). In answer to the standard question, yes, I’m largely happy in it — there are aspects I care for less than others, but overall I’m satisfied to be working there, feel like I’m contributing, am learning more every day, am getting positive feedback from senior management, feel like the company is a good company that overall adds more to the world than it takes from it, and I once again have career hopes for the future that don’t end in living in an alley in a damp refrigerator box. So that’s all good!
Oh, and the commute is about 15 minutes by surface streets, at rush hour, which is very nice.
Not much more I can say. Gainfully employed, future prospects seem decent, feel good about what I do. Lots of people have a lot less.
Picked up The Boy at the airport, home from college. Thoughtfully wore MOM and DAD name tags, and held up a SON placard, just in case he didn't recognize us. pic.twitter.com/UrrF7EKnJO
Picked up The Boy at the airport, home from college. Thoughtfully wore MOM and DAD name tags, and held up a SON placard, just in case he didn’t recognize us. https://t.co/UrrF7EKnJO
Remarkably enough, he was willing to actually acknowledge recognizing us.
We also drew a lot of smiles from folk arriving in the main terminal from the concourses (including one guy who yelled out, “Dad!”).
It’s an odd confluence of events and commemorations.
Three things of note.
It is, of course, Star Wars Day. “May the Fourth be with you,” as they say. James messaged me that, and when I mentioned it to Mom, who’d never heard it, it drew a chuckle. So totally worth it.
Yes, an awful joke, but it still always draws a chuckle from me.
This is the fifth anniversary of Dad’s passing. I don’t talk about it much, even now, though I still think of him often — what he would think of something, how he would enjoy a joke, music he would enjoy, all that kind of thing. I miss him.
Dad, with Mom, on a visit to the Denver Botanic Garden
This is the fiftieth (!) anniversary of my First Communion. Which I only remember because the gift I got for it, a St. Christopher medal I wore for many years, had the date engraved on the back: 5-9-69.
It’s not something that means quite as much theologically to me as it once did, but it was a huge milestone in my childhood, and that it’s hit that kind of anniversary is … well, once in a lifetime.
Ah, the joys of old school photos.
It was a nice day — sleeping in, running errands with Margie, texting with the boy, dinner out with Mom. Pleasantly domestic and familiar. An odd confluence of anniversaries and events, with an otherwise pleasantly ordinary day, but, then, ever.
