Bird Bed and Breakfast

We rearranged the lives of our flying pigs this morning

Now there are three feeders in the oak tree

and the two wren houses.

Left to right, the brown wren cabin,

the squirrel foiling feeder, 

a lovely buffet of nuts and fruits,

the white cabin wren house,

and the finch log o'niger seed.

The feeders are hanging from long hooks (yea, Hamilton!)

and low enough for Emily and Laura to reach down to fill.

A week's careful consideration and I decided

better in the oak tree, and all that flung seed sprouting 

in the lawn than in our lovely flower beds!

A finch, wishing I would leave.

Never mind her, fellows, let's eat.

A tufted titmouse.

Another finch.

Another titmouse.

The pictures are not first rate, but my pleasure in seeing these little fellows around is.

Next time I may have the tripod!

I am not over my recent computer debacle snit 

But it is the weekend.

And I may take off next week, after I file the tax budget with the county.

Another technical term

I was not interested in going to work this morning, but I did. Not early.

There sat that shiny new computer, in all its Windows 7 glory.

I wandered over to the road department.  The men on mowers were gone.

I filled my water and went back to the computer.  Pushed the button. It fired up, just like that.

I tried email.  A prompt to register Microsoft programs.  But it crashed in a second, for want of an internet connection.  Oh, well, I would add that to my list for the technicians.

I tried to open a document. The same prompt, the same result.

I called tech support.  I spent the next five hours watching techs remotely shove around my cursor. Once I said, “Ed, I’m putting this phone on the desk to go to the washroom.”

“Sure, no problem.”

Ed gave up and turned it over to Gregorio.  Gregorio resolved the inability to register my programs on line. I’d have to do it by phone, then text him to start on the other problems.  Three hours!

I got that done in a New York minute and texted him, “I’m going to lunch.” He replied “Me, too, back in 30.” I replied I’d be back in an hour and went home for a leisurely apple with peanut butter and no stress.

One o’clock, back at it. I explained the missing folders that George said were on the golden transfer disc. Gregorio was not hopeful.  In fact, he bluntly said “No, they were on your old computer, which was wiped yesterday.”

But, he humored me.  I  put the disc in the drive and he sent those files whirring up and down the screen. I recognized many of them.  My old friends in the documents folder. My old friends in the accounting program.  But the lovely names I’d given the folders in my old email program did not go by.

Gregorio pressed me.  Did you save them as instructed.  Of course they were saved.  To be absolutely sure, I gave the instruction sheet to Darius.

What name did he put in the first line?

My name.

Long silence.  The penny crashed. The transfer program was not looking for me, it was looking for the auditor of state file.  And now retrievable me is irretrievable; the old computer wiped clean before I tested the new one.

“Well, “ I said to Gregorio, “shit happens.”

“Yes,” he replied, “Sheet happens. Eef you need any more help, you call me.”

Up is the only direction left.  I’ll be back, after several long days of construction, as there is nothing to reconstruct.

Distraught and downhearted, but not defeated

I hustled this morning; ate my breakfast, skipped emails and blogs. I was out the door and in front of my township computer by 9 a.m., to greet the technician engaged by the great State of Ohio to install my new government accounting computer.

He arrived at 10:30.  Traffic. As I live in the middle of a large area currently untrafficed as a result of the shut down of the national government, I was inclined to put it down to lying abed.  But I was gracious and carried on; I finally had the technician to install the computer that was delivered August 31^st.

There is a protocol for saving all the data on the old computer and installing it on the new. Two hours were required to run my old computer through the protocol.  It was a completely hands off affair; the State of Ohio provided the program to gather the data and reinstall it. 

While that happened the young man (named Darius, can you believe), unpacked the new one. Then we chatted and I told him some features I knew locally of our federal park, which might reopen for his pleasure some day. He is a great bicycle enthusiast, and it’s not like we don’t have hundreds and hundreds of miles of bicycle trails, starting just outside the town hall door.

He’s from the central part of the state, and had no idea we even exist, up here.

Then the transfer was over and I noodled around to see what is going on. 

First, we have been migrated from XP to Windows 7.  Although I am used to it at home, it’s a new shock at work. I’ll get used to it.  I checked the all important government accounting program. It’s there.  I checked My Documents. It’s there. I can’t find the scanner image manager, but I will.

I checked email. No addresses. No folders and folders of public records. I checked for bookmarks on the internet, like the site I use to pay federal withholdings.  Nothing.

Darius direct dialed a super secret help line number. I sat in mute silence.

Darius and George (I know George; I’ve been in big enough computer trouble in the past to be connected to him) exchanged technical banalities. All systems can fail. No code is perfect. The protocol was complete. This was unforeseen.

The sentence of death: “Yes, I’ll relay that to the customer.”

Bottom line:  Darius did nothing wrong.  Underscore line: the customer will have to call the Ohio Auditor of State, who is assuming responsibility, to see if their technicians can devise a solution to find the missing bits and pieces on the disc of gold, the one used to gather the data.

Darius went on his way at 2:30, late for his second installation of the day. I came home. I’ll think about it tomorrow.

Pumpkin Protection Program

You remember this little fellow from only two weeks ago.

Leaps and bounds.

Great strides.

I don't know if Beggars' Night will be

October 26th, a Saturday, or

October 31st, but it will happen.

The little pumpkin that could may become orange, yet.

In the meantime, I am assured the other two are safe.

Pumpkin Protection Program

                                                       

For ten years I've watched the road super

Lay in his Beggars' Night goods.

And thought little of it, except he does it,

Sitting on the end of the township drive,

Treating all the spooks and goblins who come by.

Think I'll go by this year and check on the pumpkins.

We will always have yuccas

 (Apologies to Bogart and Bergman)

We dug out several yucca plants from near their point of origin,

nestled there in the curve of the side walk,

and planted them in front of the pampas grass, 

where the girls are weeding.

If we need to replace a transplant

we know where to find one.

They just keep growing.

Things are still growing.  A new raspberry plant.

Flowers long past their prime are still blooming.

And making me smile.

Then we went to the bird seed store

and came back with replacements for our hanging baskets.

I still can't part with this basket, so pictures will follow another day.

Finch feeder.

At the end, out of sight, bluebird feeder. Or orioles. Or robins.

I can't imagine what they see in meal worms.

The piece de resistance!

A squirrel assault closes the seed holes. How cool is that!

A very good day.

Thanks to Hamilton for taking the picture.

Laura is curled in the chair reading the bird book.