other

It takes some inspiration for me to actually post here. I used to care; I don't any longer. But the forecast bumped this week's high up nine degrees, so: God does answer prayers. That is all.

A fly ventured in through the open door on a 70-degree day. Now it's trapped behind the shutters, buzzing and getting hungry. Another couple of days should do the trick.

A Mac software site I'd never heard of added my program, boosting my Alexa rank to 192,108th place. I'm in the top million!

Search my name on Google and I'm 2nd place, behind some random person. But I'm 2nd out of 78,800 while he's 1st out of 910. You do the math.

Starving on my way home from being paid $125 to give my opinion on bacon, I grabbed a bottle of wine. The cashier asked if this Pinot Noir tastes like Merlot. "I certainly hope not." That killed the conversation.

There are only two seasons here: Warm and Cold. So I turned a den into a sealed, 75-degree refuge with a big electric heater while the rest of the house freezes. My computers are in here, so I rarely need to leave.

Two weeks on, I'd do the grueling four-day hike again, given the chance, ideally with an extra day to explore the caldera. I overlaid my GPS track logs on Google Earth imagery, and I learned to tape my toes. Lessons learned the hard way.

Back from vacation, I gave my Audi a big hug and confessed I'd spent the week driving a Taurus. It, of course, didn't mean anything. New tires later, I think we're okay now.

Unlike John Denver, I know exactly when I'll be back, and I'm looking forward to leaving. He clearly wasn't talking about Hawaii. A tally of in-flight drinks, while the little people suffered with their snack packs.

A weekend in Destin: Starbucks, a bar, then swimming out into the Gulf at 2am, which in retrospect was probably not brilliant. A four-mile jog mistaken for one or two, friends discussing my possible fates without lifting a finger, and badly burned shoulders. Lots of fun.