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Behold the big fat grubs in my compost pile no one can identify:
The ones in the last picture were moving around. BLECH.
There seem to be a fair number of them deep in the wetter, denser depths of the pile.
Any ideas? I’m counting on you!
Radio Shack Guy is my new boyfriend. He does not know he is my boyfriend. He just thinks he helped me with a little cable problem but he is definitely my new boyfriend.
THE PROBLEM
This is the back of my teeny, tiny 13” TV. I was going to describe it as the crap kind you can carry around from room to room but that isn’t really fair. It has no handle.
Do you see the problem? No? Let me call your attention to the Audio input on the right. Audio input, singular. Still not seeing it? Here, maybe this will help:
Note the TWO leads at each end of this standard Audio cable. You begin to see my conundrum.
All I want to do is hook up my TiVo box to the tiny TV I keep on the corner of my desk in my home office.
The TV picture isn’t really all that bad, especially up that close, so I just need a couple of cables to connect the TiVo to my cable box and my cable box to my TV. I haven’t read the instructions at this point so I’m not really sure but I’ve hooked up a million of these things so how hard can it be?
THE FRUSTRATION
I determine I need two Audio/Video cables (like the audio cable above but with a third lead coded yellow for video) and one reducer. I don’t know if it is called a reducer, but it is about six inches long with two receptors on one end into which I can plug the red and white audio lines from the A/V cable but only one output on the other to be plugged into the single audio input on the TV. Seems simple enough.
When I lived with my sister Kate, we always a big bin full of various cables. Alas, I am still building my stash so it was off to Best Buy for me, where I discovered the least expensive A/V cable is $20.
Remember I need two.
For my crap TV.
That I only watch when I work from home during tax season and occasionally on Saturday when I pay my bills online.
I don’t think the TV itself cost much more than $40 so no thank you, Best Buy. Next stop: Radio Shack on the Mall. (How do they stay in business, I often wonder?) Their least expensive A/V cable is still about $17…and they only have one.
THE SOLUTION
Enter my new boyfriend, whom I adore so much I didn’t even get his name, though I believe he wore it on a cute little pin on his Radio Shack polo shirt. New Boyfriend told me a secret: the color coding on cables means nothing. NOTHING. It is only there so complete morons can hook up equipment without having to understand (or even read) directions: plug the yellow one into the yellow hole, etc.
I was shocked. SHOCKED. The cables themselves all transmit the same thing so you can plug any color you want into any hole you want as long as it is the same size and shape. It was a revelation.
He further revealed I did not, in fact, need to reduce my two audio cables (the red and the white) to one just because I only had one audio input on my TV. Since the cables all transmit the same thing and I am not worried about getting great sound on external speakers or anything like that, I can simply plug the red plug into the yellow video hole and the white plug into the white audio hole. I wouldn’t even need a 3-line A/V cable. I would only need a 2-line audio cable.
Wha…?
Do you see why I am in love?
I was pretty sure I already had an audio cable at home – remember, I had to shop because I thought need an A/V cable with that third yellow doo-dad – but I bought two audio cables just in case for $7 each: so much better than $20 a piece.
Of course wouldn’t you know as I continue through the onscreen TiVo setup instructions – the “you could be brain dead and still set up your TiVo correctly” on screen setup instructions – it turns out I only need one audio cable and it doesn’t even connect to the TV, just runs between the TiVo box and the cable box. Here is what the final configuration looks like:
It turns out I DID already have an audio cable at home in my bin-o’-cables so I am off to the Mall to break up with Radio Shack Guy and get my $15 back.
Techlove: so fickle.
I have been growing my hair out for quite some time now in a vain effort to recapture my youth, but now that it is ponytail length? THAT’S ALL I DO WITH IT.
Hair hanging in my face? PONYTAIL!
Too lazy to blow dry it in the morning? PONYTAIL!
Don’t feel like washing my hair for a week? PONYTAIL!
A wise woman once said, “Women of a certain age have no business wearing long hair.”
That wise woman is my hairdresser, Rosalie. Had she been young and perky, I would have smacked her, but she is also “of a certain age” so we had a party with my hair instead.
Pretend not to notice my hair’s Sahara Desert quality. Rosalie chastised me (“How long have you been coming to me now and you are still using Suave?”) into investing in a super-hydrating shampoo and conditioner so I will soon have a glossy and fetching mane.
(Don’t tell, but I opted for Biotera, the fake Biolage, because the beauty supply didn’t carry any of the recommended brands and the sales girl assured me generic shampoo is JUST LIKE generic drugs at the pharmacy. If all my hair falls out, I’ll take pictures.)
My hair looks like a big ole bird’s nest above because I am experimenting with my natural curls, also known as “goddammed wavy hair.” Until I master my new ‘do, I shall enjoy not having hair hanging down the back of my neck and the ease of a wash-and-go style.
I predict many wet-look hair days in my future.
Jury Duty 1: Preliminary Thoughts
Happy birthday to me: I turned 45 on Monday. Yippee! I’m excited I’m not dead. It’s good to be above ground.
As a special present this year, the State gave me jury duty. And by jury duty, I mean the kind where you actually have to stay for the trail, as opposed to the kind where you show up and sit around all day bored out of your mind, only to be sent home before ever making it into the jury box for voir dire.
That was my last experience about 20 years ago and I haven’t been called since. I find that odd. Actually that’s not quite true. I did receive a summons when I lived in Fremont but opted for the 3 month deferral knowing I was moving the next month and it would take them a while to catch up with me at my new address.
I know! So shameful.
Now it’s just like airport security at the courthouse entrance, only they don’t make you take off your shoes: purse on conveyor belt, walk through metal detector, confirm that yes, you are wearing an underwire bra, then go on your merry way.
(Oh wait, that last part happened at the Calgary airport but not at any of the U.S. ones nor at the County courthouse. Canada overachieves once again.)
So guess which judge presides over the trial for which I am a juror? Go on, guess…
Thaaaat’s right, the target of the knife-wielding mental health patient. The judge has since moved to a courtroom on the second floor so any crazy person who manages to get past security still has to navigate stairs to get to him. Very sensible of him.
Obviously I cannot talk about the trial until it’s all over but I can discuss things unrelated to the trial but very much related to serving as a juror. I will put that in a separate post I hope to get up in the next day or so.
In the meantime, are you dressing up for Halloween? What is your costume? Do provide a link to pictures in the comments here, won’t you?
Photo source: Courthouses of California on The Well
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