The California Files

Yes, We Have no Computer!

So here a few weeks back against my better judgment I struggle out of bed of an early morning. While waiting for my turn in the shower, I stumble in here to check e-mail, stock prices, world news.

Wait, that’s not what I did first. First, I made my way out to the kitchen and poured myself that essential first cup of coffee, cream, no suger, courtesy a coffeemaker that turns itself on and brews coffee so that it is available to us as soon as we arise each morning.

So coffee in hand, I come in here, sit down – and spill the entire cup into my computer. This computer. This very one.

It does not take kindly to this kind of anointment. You may not know this – computers don’t like liquids. Not even single-malt Scotch.

It says, in response, “Bzzzt! Bzt!” Plume of smoke arises. Screen goes blank. Odd, too-hot odor fills room. Well, maybe not quite, a bit of hyperbole there; but you get the idea.

Shit. Well, good thing I’ve got everything backed up, right?

Wrong. Can’t seem to figure out how to make the backup drive do its thing, much less determine whether the thing even has my data – many years worth of photos, priceless, unrepeatable information about my ’65 Ducati, recipes, stuff like that – on it.

So I go buy another computer. Bad mistake. I went too cheap. Man, what a piece of crap this thing is. I hate the mousepad, I hate the fact that MSOutlook won’t run properly on it, and I hate – oh, so much else. Grr!

So in frustation I took my old computer down to a technician and told him my sad story. He sez, “Sure, I can fix that.” Revelation! The day looks better.

And he did. For $200 and a new motherboard, it’s working great. I’m a happy camper. My photos are where they’re supposed to be, and so is everything else. Mousepad works great, Outlook works great so I’m back in the e-mail business; keyboard is great, the Cloud connection with my iPhone runs fine, it’s all good.

What to do with the new replacement computer (it's an HP, by the way)? I may just take it out to the driveway, bathe it in lighter fluid and set it on fire.

Maybe that’s too extreme. Or maybe not.

-JFT  

My New Knee

I’ve been staying quiet the last two days. Here’s why:

After about a month of planning, and considerable discomfort over a longer period, yesterday at 6 a.m. I was admitted into Glendale Adventist Medical Center. At 7 a.m., I underwent surgery for what’s called a Makoplasty, which is a partial knee replacement using robotic equipment.

Surgery took about 45 minutes, my doc told me this morning.

It actually went quite well – well enough that when I told him I was coming home today, he said OK to that crazy-assed notion.

Here’s what it looked like just before they kicked me out the door at 1 p.m. today, Tuesday. And yes, if you would like to see it fullsize in all its post-surgical glory, click on the image.

You will see that the incision is about four inches long, and that there are small punctures above it and below it. They were made to accommodate cameras and drains, I think probably.

This incision is much shorter than the one this same doc – a wizard named Philip Merritt, hence those initials there to mark the knee he'd be working on - did on my left knee in 2008. That one is a full 12 inches long, the better to accommodate the significant hardware required for a total replacement.

As you might imagine, I’m really pleased to have gotten away with this less stressful procedure. I’m also pleased that the good people at work are being patient with me. I’ll take today and tomorrow off, and work as usual on Thursday. Well, not exactly as usual – I’ll work from home so that I can minimize stress on that new knee, which is a bit stiff and a little sore. Not bad, though; not bad at all. After many years of struggling with both knees, I should be good to go now until I’m too old to care.

-JFT

Max the Squirrel

Why is this guy's name Max? I have no idea. You might as well ask me why the other squirrel is called Lilly. Laura, of course, knows the answers to these questions. But she apparently isn't sharing them. Anyway, here's Max grabbing a snack in one of the bird feeders we keep in our back garden - this one, a wooden cat, is a treasure given to me by my pal Marilyn Etcheverry a good number of years ago. I'm happy that it's survived.

Ah-hah! It worked! What this means is that I've found the reason I've been unable to upload photos with my blog posts, which you've maybe noticed. So onward and upward!

-JFT

 

I CAN SEE! I CAN SEE: TV and the Rule of Unintended Consequences

It’s all Aragon’s fault. As recounted elsewhere, Laura and I ventured north over the holidays to visit my son Jonathan and his family, and also to spend some time with our pals Paul and Ginger Aragon.

We had a nice visit with the kids, and, as usual, we greatly enjoyed our visit with Paul and Ginger. And, also as usual, we learned something from them.

Like us, they get their TV signal from a satellite. But unlike us, their satellite box contains a DVR. That means it’s one of those TiVo-like thingies.

So while the girls worked on their pastel technique, Paul and I rejoiced over the collection of Australian V-8 Supercar races he’d recorded on his DVR. And during that time, I figured out that I needed one of these things.

I needed one because unlike the dreaded VCR, which so many of us have reluctantly relied upon for so many years, this thing is easy to program.

Actually, it’s even better than that. You program it once, just once, and it captures all the broadcasts under the title you’ve selected. For instance, if you’re a stone race fan like Paul and I are, you can tell it to record every Australian V-8 Super Car race, or every German Touring Car (DTM) race, or every Formula 1 race, and it’ll do it. (I suppose it would also record all the NASCAR “races,” but for the life of me, I don’t know why you’d ask it to do that….)

Now, I’ve wasted lots of energy and effort on trying to capture each and every one of the F1 races each year. Usually I get ‘em, but sometimes I don’t. When I don’t, I’m seriously bummed – usually when I miss a race, it’s a big one with historical significance – the Belgian Grand Prix, maybe, or the Monaco Grand Prix. So I did a bit of research, found that conversion to DVR box (that means Digital Video Recorder) would carry a cost penalty of just six bucks a month. OK, we can afford that. There was a $99 cost involved, but DishNetwork was offering a 100-buck rebate.

So last Saturday, the satellite guy – a high-tech version of the cable guy, I ‘spose – installed a DVR for us.

This thing is bitchin’, not just because I’ve now got the thing preloaded to record every decent roadracing broadcast all year long, but also because there’s a surprising unintended consequence.

The DVR isn’t just a DVR. What it also is, is an HD/DVR.

This is good, because when we bought our current TV about four years ago, we did so because it has a nice, wide screen, a great picture and very high quality. We did not buy it because it happened to be HD-capable, which it is. At the time, there was so little of interest on the HD channels that there was no way in Hell we’d spend the money to add them to our satellite subscription service. In fact, we’ve never even thought about it.

There’s still no way we’d spend the money to add them, but what we’ve learned in the last few days is that the networks, at least, offer HD as part of their regular programming. That means news, my life's blood, will come in HD.

How different is the HD picture quality? Depends. At its best, it is hugely better than the worst non-high-def picture. It’s like looking at a perfectly exposed, tack-sharp enlargement of an image shot on Kodachrome. At its worst – and there are variations in HD picture quality - it’s only slightly better than the best non-high-def picture. But generally, across the board? I’d call it a significant improvement.

So here’s the deal: The Super Bowl is going to be broadcast in HD, so is the Daytona 500, two factoids that gladden my heart. And all the local news shows are in HD. In fact, the DVR is set up so that when you push the button labeled “Guide,” which shows you what’s available and when, it’ll either show you everything, or just the programming that’s in HD. I had no idea there was so much:  A&E, the History Channel, Discovery, the Foot Network and much more, all the good stuff. Some movies, even.

In 1992 Bruce Springsteen recorded a song called, “57 Channels and Nothin’ On.” I’m not suggesting that this new box, this new technology, challenges that statement of fact. What’s clear, though, is that when something decent does come around, it now looks really good.

I’m pretty sure that if there’s a way to screw up when trying to record the Formula 1 races, I’ll find it. But I suspect that screwing up will be much more difficult with the DVR than it was with the VCR. At least I hope so.

-JFT

Wrestling with Windows Vista

So I find myself compelled to obtain a new computer. This is against my better judgement. But Laura needs a computer, and she is (rightfully) loath to deal with the learning curve for pain-in-the-ass Windows Vista, which apparently is what comes on new PCs these days.

What she wants, she says, is my laptop, which works well and has plenty of memory and storage. Also, it’s reliable. This is important, because she needs to use it to deliver a long lecture, complete with PowerPoint slides, at a convention in Atlanta this week. She possesses neither time nor inclination to mess about with a new piece of hardware. Smart, is what she is.

All of this, then, is how I found myself in a wrestling match.

Remember the story, in the book of Genesis, of Jacob wrestling with the angel?  As I recall it, Jacob pulls his Winnebago into the KOA campsight late one evening, warms up a can of Dinty Moore stew and grabs a bottle of beer out of the ’fridge. After dinner, he plays some blues on his old Martin, then settles in for the night. He drops off to sleep, then wakes, only to find himself in the wrestling match of his life. His opponent is, it turns out, an angel.

He and the angel wrestle all night. Dawn arrives without there being a clear winner, the pair call it a draw, fry up some eggs and bacon, do some biscuits in a Dutch oven, make a pot of coffee, then get on with their day.

Right? Something like that.

Anyway, that all-night wrestling match is about what I went through last night with this new laptop I hauled home from Office Depot yesterday. There’s nothing wrong with the hardware, mind you. It’s just that Microsoft has made the process of loading software so difficult and complex that it’s actually more fun to repeatedly whack one’s thumb with a hammer than it is to try to get Windows Vista to recognize and accept some of the programs meant to operate with it.

For instance, Vista supposedly will recognize any printer you plug into the computer’s USB port. I futzed with this one problem for about 40 minutes last night before my printer actually awakened.

Or this: Laura and I both use Windows-enabled SmartPhones. This means that we can plug our phones into our computers, Windows (supposedly) will recognize them, charge them, and allow information to be traded – schedules, contacts, e-mail, the lot. But when I ran the setup last night, I got a message saying that Vista would not operate with the Windows system on my phone – which Microsoft wrote and provided: Go to the Microsoft site and download new software, a message instructed.

Fine. Only problem is, this new computer didn’t want to recognize the wireless signal coming from the modem in the next room – the same wireless signal that my old computer recognizes just fine. So I can’t get onto the Web. OK, call the ATT/Yahoo tech desk, wait on the line for a tech to finish his lunch break. Finally, problem solved.

Now, wireless system working, download the new phone software from Microsoft. Three times. The phone still doesn't communicate with Vista. But I haven't given up on this.

There’s a trial version of MS Office on this computer, which was good, I thought, because the new Office 2007 pack that I bought from Amazon to work with Vista won’t be here for a few days yet. So I tried to wake it up. An authorization number appeared – followed by a message that said that I was trying to use an unauthorized authorization number, that all operations would immediately cease, and that I was a very naughty boy. This was my new computer, and Microsoft’s software, telling me that the number Microsoft generated to activate its own trial software was wrong. You couldn’t make this stuff up!

Could I get my Palm software running – the same stuff that runs beautifully on my old computer, which uses Windows XT? Nope. Of course not. This problem remains to be sorted. Again, I haven't given up.

I did manage, finally, to figure out how to move photos archived on my external drive back onto this new computer’s hard drive. But doing this is, as far as I can tell, is nowhere near as intuitive as it should be.

The thing is, Jacob’s wrestling match finally ended. He cranked up his Winnebago, started the air conditioning, checked his GPS system and then drove off down the Interstate toward – I forget, Yosemite, maybe, or Disney World? I fear that my bout with Windows Vista is just beginning, especially since I still have to load new versions of Office and Photoshop.

So here’s today’s message: Accept that you should never, ever, buy a new computer unless your old one explodes. But yes, unfortunately you will eventually have to gravitate to Windows Vista – there seems no way to avoid it, unless you defect to McIntosh or Linux, which might not be such a bad idea. But put it off for as long as you can.

- JFT