What the yard brings

The back yard has dried out from last week's 5+" of rain, letting the ants rebuild their hills in the sandy soil.

From my grandmother's knitted, crocheted, woven, and sewn work, you'd never suspect that she had what she called arthuritis. (My father could, we as might suspect, be a bit of a pain at times.) She couldn't use the spring-loaded clothespins, relying, instead, on the push-on kind. We've inherited those clothespins and use them when we dry towels and such on clothesline in back near the wood pile.

One of my doctors remarked that, while I am out of work, one of his treatment goals for me is to ensure that I do not become a regular viewer of the Jerry Springer show. The only daytime TV that I watch is CNN and then only on days with significant news. Last week, for example, brought the tragedy at Virginia Tech and the Gonzales hearings, along with the ever-increasing death toll in Iraq that's become wallpaper for our news channels. (In another post, I'll collect my thoughts regarding TV, radio, print, and the web, looking at contemporary media through a McLuhan filter.)

So, instead of watching Wolf, I line up tasks that are well-defined, such that I know what to do, know how to do it, and can report on what I've done and how well I did it. My daily task list includes chores such as bring in firewood, make various phone calls, pick up clothes at the dry cleaner's shop, stuff like that. This morning's list includes a task that's more vexing than it might seem. We have a thermometer with a wireless outdoor sensor. The challenge comes when I try to find a spot that has the least exposure to sunlight. It should be a foot above the ground (or snow), open to the sky so that cold or hot air is not trapped around it, and, as mentioned before, away from direct sunlight as much as possible. In the spring and summer, all 360° of the house receives some sunlight; the northeast corner receives the least solar warmth. Unfortunately, the wireless path from that corner to the base station passes through the MacGregors' laundry room. Washing machines are not very transparent for radio signals. This task, then, combines aspects of meteorology, astronomy, and radio science into a bit of fun.

By the way, we can always rely on our favorite three-alarm nutjob to take us down the path of heavenly distraction: "Only one policy has ever been shown to deter mass murder: concealed-carry laws."

We have red-winged blackbirds visiting our feeders, reminding me of the only book that I know of that features a technical writer as a major character: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.