I Ask You

Where can a person buy a good peach?

Who is growing these beautiful-on-the-outside-dry-flavorless-on-the-inside (where it counts) peaches?

What are they doing to them to make them so nasty?

For two years I bought no peaches. Even the nectarines were nasty. This year I bought one nectarine--chancy--and it was a miracle. Good, juicy, full of flavor. Hallelujah, I thought. So I bought more nectarines, all just wonderful.

I should have left it there. But no.

I went to Utah. Too late to enjoy the peaches from my sister's tree, I was recipient of her neighbor's peaches. So delicious.

I came home and bought three peaches. They were big and peach-colored and promising. They looked a lot like the ones I ate in Utah. Oh boy! I thought.

BUT NO!

I ask you, What is the deal?

huh? resolved

It took 27+ minutes this morning on the phone with CableOne, but my email migration and the subsequent problems associated with it (like, I got no emails) have been fixed.

He walked me through it, step by step. And I'm not stupid, after all. He even said it was complicated. Yes, I know, that could have been to make me feel better. So? I do feel better.

I asked him, "Now, why did I need to migrate?" The new format or setup, or whatever he called it, (and I guess Google is managing it) allows me to send and receive many more messages than the old plan.

See, I don't know everything about it, in fact, not very much. But I know my email is now functioning the way I need it to. That is sufficient.

I thanked him, whatever his name was. He told me his name at the outset, but, you know, they say their names as if you already know them, but you don't. Another subject. Sorry.

huh?

I have completed my email migration process.

I have read the tutorial. Well, sort of.

I have a new long password.

I don't know if I know what it all means.

All my emails now go to gmail? No, I checked. They used to, but now they don't and I can't find the page that I saw when I was migrating. They still show up on my cableone email page. So what does migration really mean?

Is this something good? Did I need it? It seemed to be mandatory. Right?

It's partly because I don't want to sit here all morning and memorize the tutorial. I mean, I read it really fast. What I come away with is the little gear symbol is important. With it I can do stuff. Do I want to? Do I need to?

Okay, so maybe technology is passing me by.

Oh well.

At least T-Mobile has nothing to do with it. Or Salt Lake airport TSA.

Everything makes me nervous these days.

And my ribs hurt today.

Misc.

• Aunt, gaunt. These words should rhyme. In parts of the country, particularly the South, they do rhyme. But out here in the west, where I live, aunt rhymes with can't.

• The young couple across the street went out for a walk this morning. I'm glad to see it. His right arm had no sling today, but he held it close to his body with his left hand.

• If someone gives you home-grown tomatoes, you have to buy bacon. Right?

• Sign on a local business: Why is abbreviation such a long word?

• Watch out for your ribs. They can hurt you.

In the Night Last Night

I've just come from my neighbors' house, the young couple across the street. I went over to see if I could help her in any way. Just to lend neighborly support.

He answered the door. Surprised me, because he was the one on the stretcher, wrapped and strapped and loaded into the ambulance. After that, the fire engine left. After that, she came out of the house with a bag, got into their car, and followed the ambulance.

When I saw him--with his right arm in a sling--I said, "Oh." Then he told me he's fine. Sleep laundering at midnight, fell down the stairs, broke his arm, staples in his head, concussion. And he felt none of it. Remembers going to bed. Next thing he knows he is surrounded by firemen. Never walked in his sleep before.

They're fine, and thanks for my concern.

See. It's easy to tell. And it sounds pretty simple.

But when you're up at 1:30 in the morning and the lights from the fire engine and the ambulance are flashing on the walls inside your house, and it's dark, and it takes about half an hour for them to emerge from the house and another 10 minutes before the neighborhood is just dark again with no flashing lights, and you don't know what has happened in that house, and the world you live in makes you think many wild things--besides, it is the middle of the night--well, then you spend the rest of the night praying for your neighbors and feeling you need to go over and offer help.

So I did.

I'll get over it

Much of last night I spent thinking about the degrading, insulting experience of going through Salt Lake airport security yesterday. I composed many-a letter in my head about the whole thing, especially about Gary Derbitch or Durbich or however it is spelled. He is TSA manager at the airport, at least in terminal 1. He had to be called in on the case. Yes, I refused to be patted down.

Gary is about 6'5" and every inch (and every one of his 280 pounds) rude. He was probably a classroom bully in his younger years.

His purpose is to intimidate and threaten. I do not know if he has the power to do what he threatened to do--put me out of the airport and make me find another way home. I believe my worst offense in his eyes was that I was not intimidated or frightened.

A few things:
1. I heard that little voice early this morning telling me not to send the letter, email, actually. They already took down every bit of information on my driver's license and boarding pass so they could "write up the case."
2. Ultimately, of course, I did comply and submit to a total body pat down--which he decided I should have because he hadn't scared me sufficiently. I submitted because he might have been able to put me out of the airport, and I couldn't take a chance.
3. I believe the scanning machine puts up images of possible explosive sites on a person's body randomly. I say it because the woman before me insisted on being scanned twice and passed the second time. I should have done that.
4. I am 71, white-haired, no doubt a terrorist.
5. A patriotic American--I love my country--one who has always voted, paid taxes, and pledged my allegiance to America, I have no rights in an airport.

At one point I said to Gary. "You know I am not carrying explosives." He replied, "That's what they said on 9/11."

Enough. You know I could go on.