The big thing that happened was that Dudette met Hunky Husband and me at the credit union so that we could get her onto our safety deposit box as a co-owner. Yay! She and Bogie will need to be able to access the stuff in that box, eventually. Unfortunately, despite what I had been told, they would not issue another key for Dudette.
In order to have Dudette put on as a co-owner, she had to provide a photo ID (her driver's license did nicely) and her Social Security card. As happened, Dudette could not find her Social Security card. She, instead, brought her birth certificate and her marriage license (to show her name change), knowing that her original Social Security card is among the papers that we do keep in the safety deposit box. That worked nicely, too. Why we still have Dudette's and Bogie's original Social Security cards is beyond me; but, there they are - and Dudette chose to place hers back into our safety deposit box when the paperwork was all done.
Come to think of it, Dudette also used the opportunity to return the Half-Pint microwave oven that we had loaned the girls. I need to retrieve it from HH's car trunk. [I got it, only to find that Dudette or Wonderful GrandDaughter had slipped a pint container of home made cookies into it. It's a wonder that I opened the door of the microwave. Otherwise, who knows how many years the cookies would have stayed there?]
Similarly, I used the opportunity to take a twig, that is to become an oak tree, that I had potted up a year or two ago - for Dudette & Wichidude or for the girls (Wonderful GrandDaughter and Rachie).
Yard Work:
Slowly, maybe not so surely, I am making progress on yard work. A week ago yesterday, I mowed the good grass. I had actually been checking the status of the mower battery; but, when it proved to be alive and well, I went ahead and used the mower - thinking that Jim's Tire & Auto would be picking it up that day for its 1st annual servicing. As it turned out, Jim's was swamped. They will call us when they have time to do the servicing - in about three or four weeks, they thought.
Trees:
Our crabapple tree that was planted last May is showing some color. The tiny leaves are unfurled.
The weather has provided so much moisture in March (yes, we're supposed to have rain in April) that the nursery has been unable to get their trees out of the ground on their tree farm; thus, the two trees that I bought last fall will not be planted in March - maybe April. The first photo shows, in the foreground, a yellow flag marking the spot in which the new cherry tree is to be planted, eventually replacing the North Star Cherry tree that is enveloped in yellow, in the background. The second photo shows the location at which the new Oklahoma Redbud tree is to be planted, replacing the redbud that had been encroaching on the neighbor's fence.
In my youth (which I consider to extend to a greater age than did it 50 years ago), I transferred schools during my senior year of college. The transfer was from University of Missouri School of Mines & Metallurgy1 (MSM), basically an engineering school, to University of Wichita2 (UW). The strange thing about WU was that, although they had a School of Engineering, as a physics major I matriculated into the School of Liberal Arts & Sciences. Woo hoo! In so doing, I lost most of the hours I had earned in "engineering" courses (10 semester-hours were allowed to transfer), I lost the minor in electrical engineering whose requirements I had completed (no minors allowed outside one's school), a bunch of non-technical (humanities) courses were required to be fulfilled in order to earn a degree in liberal arts & sciences, and a couple of humanities courses that had been accepted as substitutes for over-crowded required basic courses (one in economics, the other in English) at MSM were disallowed and the "required" basic courses were added to my requirements at UW. As I recall, by the time the dust settled, the part of my previous college work that would count toward my degree from WU amounted to but 118 semester hours. Yikes! (Please note that, in order to earn a BS degree at MSM at that time, I had to earn at least 150 semester hours of credited work.
I needed only four physics courses (12 semester hours) to complete my technical requirements for a BS from UW, but I needed to complete four semester hours of physical education (not offered to female students at MSM), introductory courses in public speaking, psychology, sociology, philosophy, and those basic courses in economics and English literature. Actually, I rather enjoyed some of those courses; but, tonight the money I spent taking the required English course - Introduction to American Literature - paid off. I got bragging rights, tonight.
Hunky Husband was watching some old episodes of Law & Order. I walked into the room in time to watch the last couple of minutes of one episode in which a sleazy lawyer was saying (my quote probably isn't exact), "Sometimes a guy has to dare to eat a peach." Ah, yes...from 1962 I recall The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufock by T.S. Eliot. [Yes, the same man who wrote, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats.] Of course, even though I claimed bragging rights for knowing about the poem, that bit of knowledge has come in useful down through the years. In the copy of the poem, below, I have high lighted the appropriate phrase.
The Love-Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
By T.S. Eliot
Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question. . . 10 Oh, do not ask, "What is it?" Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20 And seeing that it was a soft October night Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30 Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions And for a hundred visions and revisions Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40 [They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"] My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin— [They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"] Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all; Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50 I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all— The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60 And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all— Arms that are braceleted and white and bare [But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!] Is it perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? . . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70 And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . .
I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. . . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80 But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet–and here's no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, 90 To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it toward some overwhelming question, To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all" If one, settling a pillow by her head, Should say, "That is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all."
And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, 100 After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor— And this, and so much more?— It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: "That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all." 110 . . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old . . . I grow old . . . 120 I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130 Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
Working in the kitchen, I heard Hunky Husband guffawing in his basement den, so I had to go ask him why he was laughing. He showed me an item in a newsletter that he was reading. It illustrated the different ways in which various people use language - particularly when one of the people is young, the other old. I've changed the lead-in, for personal reasons, but not the quote. It sounds like something that HH would have told his troops 40 years ago.
After an aide answered a question, the questioner shook his head and said, “Pick up your phone, call your mother, read her what you just told me” ... “If she understands, we can keep talking.”
This was a lot funnier than what had happened about an hour, previously. I happened to go downstairs for something and heard beeps and siren noises coming from HH's den. He had somehow come upon a scam: the one that displays and announces messages to the effect that a bad thing on your computer is going to bring down the internet unless you call the given phone number RIGHT NOW! HH was trying to figure out what to do - difficult for anyone to do with all the bells, whistles, and flashing images. While he went into the laundry room to iron his weeks' worth of shirts, I shut down his machine and cleaned it up. Not that it will help, but I did change a couple of his security settings while I was at it.
It can't be our uniqueness that, on rare occasion, we have one of those mornings. Everyone has those. For instance, this morning....
5:45am - I emerge from my basement lair to find the upstairs bedroom hallway light on (above the hallway closets). That's a very unusual occurrence as Hunky Husband uses that light so seldom that he can not remember the location of the switch that controls that light. Do I check in his bedroom to assure that HH is alright, or do I leave to do the grocery shopping and let the light go? I decide to don shoes and hoodie to leave for the groceries.
6:04am - HH opens the doorway into the garage just as I am ready to punch the button on my sun visor to open my overhead door to start my car and back out. HH just wanted to check that everything was OK with me. He had arisen, read my note about my going to get groceries, and checked the garage - surprised that my car was still in. After assuring HH that all is well and opening the overhead door, I drive down the dark driveway noting that, although it has usually been delivered by this time, there is no Wichita Eagle newspaper in our driveway.
6:32am - I return home to find the newspaper still has not arrived, HH has returned to bed, and the hallway light is turned off. After unloading and putting away the groceries, I go back to bed.
8:30am - I arise to find HH in a stew because we still have not received a newspaper, for the second day in a row. He has called about the omission and received the same satisfaction as he had received yesterday - an imperceptible amount. It has been a few years since HH last had to fight this battle - a battle that lasted for two or three weeks at that time.
8:40am - Being a complete klutz, I knock my bottle of water over, spilling 1/2 cup of ice and water over my cluttered computer desk.
8:45am - HH comes up from his den in the basement, handing me his check book and two most recent statements from his credit union, and asking me to figure out whether his $538 check to the Wichita Eagle that he wrote on 10/10/2020 has cleared. (Unfortunately, it has been about 15 years since that particular credit union's online services have been available to me - partly because I tend to procrastinate and partly because they make it difficult to communicate with them.) It takes me a few minutes, but I finally find the appropriate entry that confirms that the check cleared on 10/16/2020.
8:55am - HH readies to visit the nearest convenience store in order to, again, spend over $2 for a replacement newspaper. HH cannot find his wallet. I spot it on the table next to his reading chair - in the spot on that table which is diagonally opposite to where I would have expected he might have laid it, regardless of the fact that he never puts his wallet on that table.
HH and I agree that the rest of the day can only be better.
Monday, 9/21/2020: Having decided to get down to the task of making more/better face coverings for Hunky Husband and me, I was disgusted with myself for having forgotten my lack of elastic for the ear pieces. Gah! I bought three yards of silk for the double inner layer of fabric, but failed to order the elastic. In case there is someone who missed the announcement: Walmart is trying to compete with Amazon as a "go to" online merchandise ordering website. However, there are items for which they have taken time to establish ordering capability. Such was the case with the elastic. It has, since, become available and I have ordered several yards of white and several of black. It is to be delivered during the first week ofOctober. [Added note: The wild bird seed that was ordered at the same time was delivered on the 22nd.]
I still seek a source of two types of light bulbs - and - sanitizing hand wipes.
Tuesday, 9/22/2020: The Wild Turkeys and I are having a contest. They try to see how much of the mulch around our new trees in back they can remove, and how quickly, while I attempt to rake the mulch back into place during my daily outdoor chores. The photo, below, was taken in July; but, it shows some of the turkeys and points out the mulch that they love to scatter.
Wednesday, 9/23/2020: As I stepped outside to gather in this morning's newspaper, there were a couple of bat-like flyers tumbling over our front yard. I could not imagine that we had bats as large as these two appeared to be and, by the time I had taken another step, I realized that there were a number of these tumbling flyers. Aha! It is September. The Common Nighthawks are migrating south with their more-or-less wheeling movement. As happened, it was early enough that it was nearly dark outside, and it was foggy; thus, the birds were flying a bit lower than normally they would have been observed to do. Their tumbling flight was to catch insects around the street light that is near our yard, fueling their long flight to South America. I did not/could not have captured their aerobatic flight; but, YouTube came to my rescue. I recommend full screen for viewing this video (under 2 minutes).
Several times since moving into this house, I've observed migrations of nighthawks - following the same track each year as far as I can tell. Otherwise, seeing nighthawks in our little town is so rare that I cannot, reliably, recall any instances. I do recall (1940s and early 1950s) watching nighthawks dart about in the even smaller town in which my great-grandparents lived. They lived on a relatively busy street, across from a small hotel. As I recall, some of the nighthawks nested atop that hotel - on its flat roof. Their in-flight squawks are unmistakable.
Did I mention it was foggy? Thirty minutes later, as I left for my walk, I found that the "perfectly dry" outdoor surfaces were then "perfectly wet". During my walk, within 0.4 mile of the house, I experienced a "Seattle rain". The rest of my walk was dry.
I continued my fall cleanup in the yard by yanking out another tomato vine (this is the 5th one, so far, this year.) You can see how huge the plant was in the photo, below. It was late producing ripe tomatoes and sparse in production. It's fruit were tasty, however.
The fall yard cleanup continued with my raking cottonwood tree leaves and sticks - for the ninth day in a row. It has been only a couple of hours since I raked and, in the next photo, it is obvious that tomorrow will be another raking day. Unfortunately, I failed to snap a photo "before". The splice of two photos to provide a wide-angle look isn't perfect; but, close enough for government work!
Thursday, 9/24/2020:
On this, my late mother's 106th birthday, News for Nerds led me to a report at The Guardian, concerning the effectivity of impermeable face shields in protecting against aerosol distribution of the novel coronavirus.
Simulation using world’s fastest supercomputer casts doubt on effectiveness in preventing spread of coronavirus
Obviously, my dentist is ahead of the curve since she insists that all staff working on patients wear a surgical mask under the transparent face shield. I would also point out that dentists have used the transparent face shields "forever". I had always understood it to guard them against droplets of spray.
A large garden spideris having her last fling of summer. It's to be in the low 90s (as high temperature of the day) over the weekend, then into the 60s during next week. It was in the mid 60s when I spotted this beauty, below. I never had the opportunity to show her back in a photo - only her front and side.
Friday, 9/25/2020: One of the items at News for Nerds, this morning, concerns helping people become addicted to Facebook. I understand that, just because one uses FB does not imply that they are addicted; but, there are frequently reports in the traditional media that might lead one to conclude that a non-trivial number of users are, indeed, addicted.
Posted by BeauHD from the engaging-analogies dept.
An anonymous reader quotes a report from Ars Technica: Speaking to Congress today, the former Facebook manager first tasked with making the company make money did not mince words about his role. He told lawmakers that the company "took a page from Big Tobacco's playbook, working to make our offering addictive at the outset" and arguing that his former employer has been hugely detrimental to society. His analogy continued: "Tobacco companies initially just sought to make nicotine more potent. But eventually that wasn't enough to grow the business as fast as they wanted. And so they added sugar and menthol to cigarettes so you could hold the smoke in your lungs for longer periods. At Facebook, we added status updates, photo tagging, and likes, which made status and reputation primary and laid the groundwork for a teenage mental health crisis. Allowing for misinformation, conspiracy theories, and fake news to flourish were like Big Tobacco's bronchodilators, which allowed the cigarette smoke to cover more surface area of the lungs. But that incendiary content alone wasn't enough. To continue to grow the user base and in particular, the amount of time and attention users would surrender to Facebook, they needed more."
Tim Kendall, who served as director of monetization for Facebook from 2006 through 2010, spoke to Congress today as part of a House Commerce subcommittee hearing examining how social media platforms contribute to the mainstreaming of extremist and radicalizing content. "The social media services that I and others have built over the past 15 years have served to tear people apart with alarming speed and intensity," Kendall said in his opening testimony (PDF). "At the very least, we have eroded our collective understanding -- at worst, I fear we are pushing ourselves to the brink of a civil war." As director of monetization, he added, "We sought to mine as much attention as humanly possible... We took a page form Big Tobacco's playbook, working to make our offering addictive at the outset."
This item is no longer as timely as usually are my postings from News for Nerds. It got postponed/lost when overcome by other happenings; but, I still think that spying activities in Germany and the US are of interest.
Yeo "would end up using the professional networking website LinkedIn, a fake consulting company and cover as a curious academic to lure in American targets." Some of the targets that Yeo found by trawling through LinkedIn were commissioned to write reports for his "consultancy", which had the same name as an already prominent firm. These were then sent to his Chinese contacts. One of the individuals he contacted worked on the U.S. Air Force's F-35 fighter jet programme and admitted he had money problems. Another was a U.S. army officer assigned to the Pentagon, who was paid at least $2,000 (£1,500) to write a report on how the withdrawal of US forces from Afghanistan would impact China... According to the court documents, his handlers advised him to ask targets if they "were dissatisfied with work" or "were having financial troubles"...
In 2018, Yeo also posted fake online job ads for his consulting company. He told investigators he received more than 400 CVs with 90% of them coming from "US military and government personnel with security clearances". Some were passed to his Chinese handlers... Dickson Yeo does not appear to have got as far with his contacts as his handlers would have liked. But in November 2019, he travelled to the U.S. with instructions to turn the army officer into a "permanent conduit of information", his signed statement says.
He was arrested before he could ask. The 39-year-old now faces up to 10 years in prison for being an "illegal agent of a foreign power" — but the article notes he was "aided by an invisible ally — the LinkedIn algorithm.
"Each time Yeo looked at someone's profile it would suggest a new slate of contacts with similar experience that he might be interested in..."
Posted by EditorDavid from the we-can-rebuild-him dept.
The Telegraph reports: Peter Scott-Morgan stands, wide-eyed and tearful. "Good. Grief." he says quietly. "I was unprepared for the emotion... It's quite extraordinary. It really is." Using an exoskeleton, Scott-Morgan is experiencing what it is like to stand for the first time in months after being diagnosed with motor neurone disease in 2017, the same incurable condition that killed scientist Stephen Hawking.
The remarkable step, however, is just the first in the 62-year-old's bold journey to control his disease by becoming the world's first, full-fledged cyborg. "Think of it as a science experiment," he laughs. "This is cyborg territory, and I intend to be a human guinea pig to see just how far we can turn science fiction into reality." Eventually, Scott-Morgan wants the exoskeleton to encase his upper body, giving him superhuman strength and the ability to tower above "flesh and blood" humans. A mind-reading computer will be plugged directly into his brain, expressing his thoughts almost instantly. Meanwhile, his paralyzed face will be replaced by a hyper-realistic avatar that will move in time with a speech synthesizer...
Scott-Morgan says he isn't deteriorating but becoming a new version of himself — one that will eventually pave the way for a breed of humans that can augment their capabilities using technology... Instead of answering a question by laboriously typing out individual letters using a gaze tracker, in a similar way to Hawking, he will rely on the AI to provide a full and instant response. Eventually, the machine will speak for itself using phrases it has learned from Scott-Morgan — crossing a controversial line in what it means to be human....
Someday, the scientist hopes he can exist completely outside his physical body, with his personality, traits and knowledge downloaded on to a machine.
A commenter at Julie Zickefoose's blog sent her readers to FaceBook to see how a few hundred Amish men moved a barn. Not being on FB, I went to YouTube where I found the above video.
There is an Amish community about an hour's drive north of Wichita (which puts them 1.5 hours' drive from us) where we occasionally (read that as "every several years") dine at their Carriage Crossing Restaurant & Bakery (with gift shop) and/or go to Yoder Furniture Company. Amish are known for their workmanship and the wares at the gift and furniture shops never fail to measure up.
An anonymous reader writes: You really can't make this stuff up, but Americans across the country, out of fear of "murder hornets," have begun killing all kinds of bees en masse. According to Doug Yanega, senior museum scientist for the Department of Entomology at UC Riverside, a national panic has led to the needless slaughter of native wasps and bees, beneficial insects whose populations are already threatened...
"Folks in China, Korea and Japan have lived side by side with these hornets for hundreds of years, and it has not caused the collapse of human society there. My colleagues in Japan, China and Korea are just rolling their eyes in disbelief at what kind of snowflakes we are..."
"I don't want to downplay this — they are logistically dangerous insects. But having people in Tennessee worry about this is just ridiculous. The only people who should be bothering experts with concerns about wasp IDs are living in the northwest quadrant of Washington (state). And really, right now, nobody else in the country should even be thinking about this stuff," he continued. "The facts are, experts said, two dead hornets were found in Washington last December, a lone Canadian live nest was found and wiped out last September and no live hornets have yet been seen this year," reports the Associated Press.
And when they spoke to the Washington Agriculture Department entomologist working on the state's response, he issued an additional correction for all the journalists covering this story. "They are not 'murder hornets.' "They are just hornets."
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