Today in My History

2001: As the Wheel Turns
2002:  Create a Diversion
2003:  Slow and Steady
2004:  Self Esteem Saturday
Sunday Brunch
2006:  With Me at the Oscars
2007: I Missed the Reunion    
2008:  Good Grief, Charlie Brown
2009:  Kindling a Flame
2010:  Falling Leaves
2011:  A Wake, of Sorts
2012: No Books Today
2013: It Started Last Night
Today at Logos

Bitter Hack
: 3/4
"Sweeney Todd"

Books Read in 2015
 Updated: 2/28
"Adam and Eve and Pinch Me"

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Letters from Venkanna & Theresa

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The Philosophy of Juice & Crackers

The story of Delicate Pooh

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7 March 2015

First, apologies to non-geeks for whom the next few paragraphs will seem like Greek.  I need a geek who knows HTML coding.

I heard from someone today who has not been able to see my index page since mid-February.  Now that I have a new computer, I can't get the index page to update (though it does on my laptop, my iPad, and my cell phone).  Yet, this is not a problem for everyone. But it still is for some and it's driving me nuts.

I wrote to someone I thought would have the expertise to see if he could find a problem in my coding (which has not changed in 15 years) and he never checked the code, just told me he could see it in Firefox, not in Chrome.  Well, I could do that (and it shows up for me just fine in Chrome).

But I need someone who knows how to code to look at the code for the index page to let me know if they can find any orphan code that is throwing some people off sometimes and won't let the latest entry be shown.  Because I sure can't find the mistake, though I haven't had to code anything in a long time and never did know anything beyond the very simple stuff.

Today I took my mother back to Kaiser to have her TB test read (negative, of course).  It was a repeat of Wednesday as far as understanding where we were going and what we were going to do, and the losing, finding and losing again the damn Kaiser card, but I took the long way around to get there and we passed a lot of places where blossoms are exploding. 

Oh, how I wish I could take her to the university arboretum.  It is just gorgeous right now, but her back won't let her walk there, nor will she consider cane, walker, or wheel chair. But she was able to see the tops of the blossoming trees and raved about them.

On the way home I went down F Street, which goes from downtown 15 blocks to where we turn to get to Atria.

Every year, F Street is absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous for about a week, when the trees (I wish I knew what kind of trees they are...I'm sure someone will tell me eventually) burst forth with with a canopy of blossoms, that cover both sides of the street for at least 8 blocks, making a not-quite complete arch over the traffic.

Since I don't go down that street often, it's iffy that I catch the peak of the blossoms, and often I see the tail end, when they are already leafing out, but I thought I would try driving home from Kaiser down F Street and we hit peak (see Photo of the Day).

My mother was actually impressed.  Well, I thought she was impressed.  I stopped to take a picture to include here and when I got back in the car, she was sighing "Oh look at that tree...isn't that gorgeous?"  I thought she was looking at the blossoms, but no, she was looking at an evergreen tree, kind of a grayish green, but green and she seems to be more excited about greenery these days than she does by breathtaking profusions of blossoms.  But I tried.  And she was happy, just not about what I expected her to be happy about.

At night we went into Sacramento to see a new play called Italian Opera, which was a farce parodying all the things that one traditionally finds in an Italian opera.  The author's husband is the world's best publicist.  He kept calling me to come and see it and greeted me enthusiastically when I got there.

And the show was fun, though I decided that it was a weird shaggy dog story.  One of the characters was named Mario and at the end his friend's wife, Vestalina, stands on a small stool, yells "Mario, Mario," and leaps the foot and a half to her death.  Right out of Tosca.  Sort of.



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