...uuuh

Well, where the heck have you been?
You would ask the same of me.

I spent a lot of time at this "blogging" in October and November.
I wrote a few more entries.
Genius and classic stuff.

Like making career choices you'll regret.
Even if you love the work.
Comparisons of well stocked first aid kits.
Tips on how to alienate ex-wives and children.
Bachelor cooking and decorating tips.
Just to name a few.

I also edited some old essays that I felt were significant to these times;
...the 2008 national election and all.
An interesting perspective (to me, at least) from 16 years earlier.
Uncanny parallels.

Campaigns where the word "change" was horribly over used, etc.
"Change" seems to be a change back to more of the same old crap.
Some of the same old faces.
I swear, if there is a blue, stained dress in this next administration, I'll scream.

I was doing all this blogging at my shop.
I only has access to a weak wireless connection.
1, 5, or 11 Mbps most of the time.
It was worse than "surfing the net" today with an old "dial up" connection.
(In fact I'm on dial up this very minute at my Mom's house, WAY out in the 'sticks')
About 7 miles beyond Twain Harte, CA.

It's like sending email by SMOKE SIGNALS, with a small fire and damp blanket.
At the shop, I can't ask for much when I'm poaching some wi fi connection.
It's floating around just waiting to be tapped.
Plugging a phone line into the back of my laptop also seems primitive.
Downloads of something will take a minute for every second of YouTube I wanna watch.
So, I don't watch.
Wanna see a video of the grandkids that's six minutes long?
It will take SIX HOURS to get to the end.
If, everything goes right.
It's "start, stop, start, stop, start..." every few seconds.
When one is suffering from "cabin fever", cooped up somewhere...
Waiting like that causes one to spend time cleaning and loading firearms.
I've developed a nervous 'tic' and I talk to myself.
I answer back.

And therein lies my problem of no activity on my blog.

All that thinking, typing, editing... and then I'd see the on-screen warning,
About having 'lost' the wi fi signal... the 'piece' I was writing could not be saved.
If I could have gotten my printer to work, I could have at least created a hard copy and re-entered it manually.
But, no...
Remember, I am a carpenter, a high school education with fewer fingers than you.
I'm also apparently tech-illiterate.
If it doesn't have a plug-in cord, a trigger AND a sharp blade...
I can screw it up.
If one or two smacks along side the tower or screen won't solve it...
...or wiggling a wire, my created wordpile goes up in smoke...
...or into "outer space" which is what my Mom calls the "Internet".
Lost forever...

I have resorted to venting occasionally via text messaging.
To the regret of friends and family who wish I didn't know their cellphone numbers.
Not many people abuse the text format like I do.

The typical length of an email of the 1990s... one or 2 sentences, or maybe a paragraph is what my text messages look like.

Rachel has stated that I need to get back to my griping in print.
I'll try.