books with feet

I am working on my booksite. That is to say, an author web page on which I can put links to eBooks, hard copies, and (the only deal that I can really recommend) free online editions, by the chapter.

Still, I don’t care what they say about WordPress being “easy to use.” They are assuming a level of familiarity with FTP clients, cloud hosting, CSS, and RSS, and I don’t know what all, that I for one lacked.

But now I have WordPress for Dummies, and a little vacation time. The only danger is that all Dummies books look approximately the same, which means that the risk of my book walking off with Jeff, who is always on the lookout for his misplaced Accounting for Dummies is at about code orange.

Rotorooter for humans?

If I put patio furniture on the patio will we want to use it? I doubt. Not just because of mosquitoes though, or the lack of a focus such as a pool (I don’t want one) or a pleasant vista. If I could somehow get my heart into wanting to serve as an anchor home in the family circle, I could probably summon the momentum and imagination required to pep up the backyard atmosphere with plants (we’d still kill them,) and maybe an attractive if slightly tacky garden ornament or several. Then, instead of thinking: I’d sure like patio furniture. Too bad all “discretionary” funds have been used for car repair, educational consultants and tuition, I’d instead think: [the same thing], but hey, it’s worth it, right? But I could put a little fire chimney thingy out there for Fall. But I could put a little fence around the muddy spot by the tree where the sump pump outlets with a sign that says: Warning--Hog Waller. But nope. My gumption, apparently, is wallering with the hogs.

On the brighter side, I have evidently successfully patched two copper hot water pipe leaks with rubber and hose clamps. And I will call the junkmen. Soon. Jeff’ll just have to watch. No way around it. It is possible that in a world where my basement no longer feels in need of a high colonic, I will feel a lifted spirit about the yard. I have ideas. Mosquito-repelling scary torch-like apparatuses jabbed about in the ground, the aforementioned freestanding chimney deal, a grill for the first time in roughly 20 years, and places to sit. I can dig it. I just can’t do it yet.

Speaking of “can’t do it,” and (I hope) “yet,” I was going to apply the word “lumpen” to Gabe. As in What do we do with a lumpen Gabester? But it turned out that the actual definition of “lumpen” does not support that usage at all. Here it is:

Lumpen: of or pertaining to disfranchised and uprooted individuals or groups, esp. those who have lost status: the lumpen bourgeoisie.

He is not disfranchised (I so want to put an “en” in there though,) and he is most definitely not uprooted, except with extreme effort. Then he reroots quite easily. Usually to the chair in the computer room. If he lacks the status normally appertaining to a youth of 17, it is no fault of mine, except perhaps in terms of genetics. I’m probably feeling especially disappointed today because I spotted, in the Fourth of July parade this morning, a couple of former preschool/kindergarten classmates of Gabe’s, both showing signs of being living human boys. One was fancy-footing a soccer ball in a cluster of his school team-mates, and the other (cooler) was playing bass guitar on a float. I had also spotted the latter in front of Safeway, grilling and selling hotdogs as part of some promotion or other. A chappie who participates in life, I thought, as I recognized him. I asked Rachel if she thought Gabe is even smart enough to become a functioning human, and she shrugged. Because you can’t tell. Because until a person actually does actions that indicate a spark of thought, or a whiff of initiative, you simply cannot tell. Hence, I am still open to back-up plans for boys who need to somehow be airdropped into life.

Shock and awe...

I was almost about to say that I have a confession to make. But I think I’ll change my phraseology since I have come, after all, not to see the act as confessable. So I will simple state it as an interesting fact: I participated in dumpster-diving a few days ago. Actually, I merely drove the get away car, and this was after Rachel and I had actually done veritable shopping at the store in question--Trader Joe’s.

I remain both appalled and amazed by the vast quantity of perfectly serviceable food that is tossed in the interest of fresh turnover. Rachel has told me about it. She and her band of college and grad students, doing their best to live on a shoestring with minimal impact, have a habit of making use of surplus which would otherwise be landfill-bound.

Trader Joe’s is particularly attractive as a source of cast off food. Their turnover is quick, and their produce is ridiculously packaged in plastic cartons which are then--at discard--placed in plastic garbage bags, tied at the top. The net result is that, however you feel about dumpsters, don’t fret--the goods didn’t touch it.

As of the night of the haul we had scads of stuff waiting for processing in the kitchen. As of now, there are multiple ziplocs in the freezer of bananas, strawberries, nectarines...and we’ve pretty much downed a couple of pies and a peach cobbler made from the fruit + a cake mix. Tomorrow Rachel will return to her compound with the frozen stuff plus a passel of instant oatmeal, banana bread mix, assorted muffins, potatoes, onions...and oh, we ate the perfect avocados already. They were perfect. I’m not kidding. And personally I’m only about 35% hippie.

The foremost question I am left with: How screwed up is a system where the supply available in affluent groceries must be replaced at a rate that causes at least half to be tossed? Is there a way to rewrite the rules by which we do things such that all of this excess can go where it’s most needed? Rachel says that the problem is that while there are organizations which distribute grocery excess to food banks and shelters, there are not enough of them. And the shelters and banks themselves cannot always handle the amount of perishables which may be available at a given moment.

I am thinking this one through. I do not have the solution, nor could I rubber-stamp it into existence if I did--but it surely bears thought.