Mother's Little Ways.

Zach Neal

Mothers have their little ways.

With my mom, when we were little kids, it was desserts.

She would make pudding.

She had these beautiful champagne glasses, ground crystal with etching on them. She’d put the pudding in there, with a dollop of whipped cream and a maraschino cherry on top.

She had her ways all right.

If we were being bad, she would just look at us.

“You guys had better smarten up—or you won’t get any dessert.”

Yeah, she knew what she was doing.

What sticks out all these years later was the dinner table scene. God, we used to have some awful fights around the dinner table. My brother, my sister, mom and dad, it was all we could do to get through it. It was like everybody hated something different, but all at once. My brother hated squash, and my sister wouldn’t eat her meat. My old man wanted milk and we didn’t have any, I thought the chicken rather over-boiled and could really use some salt. It took forever for the five of us to eat dinner, when all us kids wanted to do was to get back outside and play.

Then came that moment.

The moment we had all been waiting for. The plates went in the sink, this took some time. Then mom went to the fridge.

First my dad would get his pudding, and then my sister. Mom would put the next one in front of her plate. 

That day I must have been good.

I got a pudding.

Oh, yes.

We all looked at my brother.

He sat there glowering at the rest of us. He was not being a good boy that day.

My mom tried psychology.

“Maybe if you apologized, nicely, and said you’re sorry. What do you think, Frank?” And she would look at my dad.

“Uh, humn.” No problem there.

But my younger brother was the stubborn sort.

What really sucked was when one or the other gave in, and the son of a gun got his stupid pudding after all.

I suppose I figured we could split it—between the four of us, or maybe Mom would recall that I had been an extra-good little blighter for much of the preceding afternoon, and who knew?

I might even get that thing all to myself, if I did the dishes and promised to do my homework.

But it was not to be.

My brother got his pudding. We would fight this battle another day…

Here’s a funny thing.

One day we were having ice-cream.

But we were also having steak that night, and there was a piece left over. Mom said I could have it.

I really hadn’t been such a good boy that day. I was also getting wise to the act.

I guess you could say I could see what was coming next.

“Oh, hey, everybody. Guess what?” That’s my Mom. “Who’s been good today?”

Ah, yes.

The Question.

Always so bright and cheerful. Possibly there was some defiance in there as well.

“We have ice-cream for dessert.”

And she looked me dead in the eye.

“That’s okay.” I was a study in calm. “I think I’ll just go up and do my homework.”

There was a lengthy quiet spell, as she moved around, and I could see her thinking it over. 

Finally she said it.

"Okay." She wasn't real happy with it, but she said it.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it?

If you don’t want the ice cream, they no longer have any power over you.

Mom was a bit stunned, I think. That one must have came right out of left field.

Dad, I think, was impressed. Which was a rare thing, for him.

But, he kept his head down in his bowl and kept on eating his ice cream. There was a bit of white around the rims of his eyes, but he seemed okay with it.

That ice cream looked pretty darned good, too.

Vanilla, all covered in butterscotch sauce, and with a few crushed peanuts on there just to make it look interesting. A little bit of salt goes good with the sweet, doesn’t it?

I have no real regrets. I got enough to eat and I learned a valuable lesson that day.

What more could a man ask for?

END

Here is my story Switch-Play, free on iTunes.

Sedges, and more stuff.

Dincher, Wiki.

Zach Neal

“Dad. What’s a sedge?”

Oh, boy, here we go again.

“Where did you get that word?’

“In a book…”

Oh. Well. So. That’s good, then.

“Well, son…that’s really very simple, and kind of a long story.”

The other one is nowhere to be seen, (or heard,) but the kid crawls into my lap, and we are off. We sit there and look at the pictures on the screen.

God, how I love Wikipedia.

“Sedges, cyperaceae, kind of look like this: only daddy’s not an expert.” Even though he took you camping last summer and we go for walks in the woods all the time.

“So they look like grass then?”

“Well, yes and no. They look like weeds. They look like all kinds of crazy, uh, stuff. The stalks are triangular—that’s why the Egyptians, when they used short reeds of papyrus to write with, had that triangular cuneiform script…or something like that. Remember? They wrote on clay, on wax tablets.”

“Why?”

“People weren’t very smart back then.”

That one got a smile.

“Did they use it to draw with?”

“Yup. And they made hieroglyphics with ‘em, too.”

“High-are-oh whats?”

“Hieroglyphics. They look like birds and eyes and cats and that’s what people used back then. They put all kinds of crazy stuff on the walls when they buried the Pharoah.”

He’s seen all of this before, but one wonders if they listen or even see the TV at all sometimes. It’s like they have a mysterious inner world all of their own. It’s where they go when they’re being quiet…

“Why would they want to do that?’

“Ah, because he was dead. But we’ll get into that another time. Anyhow, sedges grow in wetlands.”

“Oh, yeah.”

He likes rivers.

“This is a blackwater river…and this is a whitewater river…”

“…and this is a bog….where sedges grow…”

Holy crap, dads know everything, don’t we?

“Can we go there next year?”

Lysy, Wiki.

“Meh…maybe when you’re a little older.” It’s a long drive to spend five minutes and then everyone gets bored and we go for ice cream…

“I’m frickin’ eleven, dad.”

“Ah, yes, so you are.”

“How about this one?”

“Maybe in a few years.”

His mind drifts a little, which is good as he’s sitting on my keys and they’re digging a hole in my hip-bone. You would think he’s a bit old for this. His attention is wandering. He’ll be off in a minute.

“You said you saw a mouse the other day.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Did he look like this?

“Yep.” The little blighter gets off me finally, and no doubt it’s time to whine for another chocolate milk even though he’s had three already.

Either that or a can of pop. Of which he’s had two already…

“Well, then, you saw a mouse. Or a vole—whatever you prefer to call it.” If I’m not careful, we’ll end up doing a science fair project on the damned things…

Soebe, Wiki.

He saw it swimming across the ditch or something. 

It was all very exciting at the time, but at that age what happened in yesterday stays in yesterday.

“All right?”

“Yeah. Dad.”

“What?”

“Can I have a chocolate milk?”

And now we are getting to the bottom of things. So that’s what this is all about…

Ah, what the hell.

“Sure—and then you get to go up and clean your room.”

Even I laughed at that one.

I really ought to know better.

“Can you get that yourself? Dad’s working.”

A sly grin crosses his face.

“You’ll have to wash yourself a really big glass…”

The smile fades, but he ain’t stupid.

“No…you do it for me.”

Oh, yes. That’s right. You’re just a little kid, and completely helpless…which is sweet as long as it lasts.

Sigh.       

Ah, what the hell.

The little bastards have got you every time.

END

Here's my short western mystery Switch-Play on iTunes.

Wildlife Notes.

Photo by Greg Hume.

Zach Neal

In the last few days the boys and I have been fortunate to see quite a bit of wildlife.

The other day, we spotted an owl. He must have been sitting on the opposite side of a big tree trunk when we came along the trail. He dropped off the branch and flew fifty metres, and found himself another perch. Their heads really do bob around and he was clearly taking a look.

When we moved on again, he flew off, going across in front of us and we had a chance to take a good look. The head is massive in side-view, and the bird in flight, certainly up close, is unmistakable for anything else. The wings are deeply curved on the beats, which are moderately fast. It’s an extremely quiet bird in flight, and impressively large down amongst the limbs and branches of a mixed evergreen/hardwood forest.

Photo by Fish Cop.

Not too much further along, we broke off to the right from the trail, which was angling towards a creek. As we approached the brow of the bank, the wind was on our right, or at our backs coming in. A deer must have been down at the creek drinking. So, a white-tail deer finally heard us, (he must not have smelled us coming) and off he went, bolting up the far bank and then dashing through the woods in a zig-zag, bounding lope, cocking his eye back once or twice to watch for pursuit.

Photo by Linda Tanner.

It’s actually a fairly impressive list.

In the last few days we’ve seen a scarlet tanager, cormorants, blue herons, mergansers, painted or box turtles, a weasel or a small ermine, something like that. We saw vultures, garter snakes, kingfishers, coots, and some sort of black and white ducks that I can’t immediately identify. If you know the name, it’s pretty easy to Google a specific animal. But for this kind of job a good old-fashioned bird book is handy. Unfortunately, mine’s put away somewhere. 

We saw quite a number of the green-backed, white-bellied swallows, those are tree swallows, as the barn swallows are sort of iridescent blue or purplish with more deeply forked tails.

We saw a few jackrabbits, wild turkeys, and any number of very small songbirds. Many of those look a lot alike and it takes a real expert.

The number of sparrow species is impressive.

Photo by Bear Golden Retriever.

When in doubt, I just call it ‘some kind of sparrow’ and move on.

What else did we see?

Oh, yeah. We saw a guy land a trout, a big one about two feet long. That must have been five or ten pounds of fish on the line.

Muskrat. We saw a few of them too.

All in all, it’s been a pretty good start to our spring.

So far, this has all been within ten or fifteen kilometres of our own home.

I guess that's why they call it Canada.

END

Minor System Failure.

Proper ergonomic design of personal computer workplace is necessary to prevent
repetitive strain injuries, which can develop over time and can lead to long-term disability.

Zach Neal

We had a minor systems failure here the other day at Long Cool One Books.

What happened was that when we fired up the PC for our evening work session, the machine went though a normal start-up. Then we came to the screen where there is a button with an administrator’s name on it.

And the cursor wouldn’t move on the screen. Without being able to move the cursor, you can’t click on the button to open the desktop and get to work.

Look, we’re no tech guy.

Also, we’ve known for some time that we need a new machine.

But the real panic came from the thought of being isolated, from being unable to work and having nothing to do. We do a fair bit of online reading, watch videos and listen to music, check out the feebs on FB and everything else people have found essential for living in the 21^st century.

Checking our emails has become a soothing habit.

So we nipped out and charged up a pack of AA batteries on the old company credit card—screw the Evil 

Dr. Schmitt-Rottluff. (The company founder, ladies and gentlemen. –ed.).  If he don’t like it, that’s too bad, and he’s never around when you need him anyways.

He’s off playing golf in the Caymans or something.

Someone had to make a decision, right? Turns out it ain’t the batteries. So we called Mom, our usual fall-back position, and asked her advice. By some bizarre quirk of fate, she had just bought a brand-new wireless mouse. When she showed it to us, the little green light was on and there was clearly power in there already.

In terms of default positions, we had already tried a few things with the machine. One of the things is to try shutting it off and on again, unplugging all leads to the modem, trying to go in through safe mode, trouble-shooting at its most basic.

The really strange this is, when we got back, we fired up the computer. It lit up. Mom’s new mouse was still in the bag.

On an impulse, we pulled the wireless receiver out of its home USB port, and stuck it in another one.

When we shook the mouse the cursor moved about on the screen…all them new batteries, don’t you know. 

Maybe. Or something like that.

So what the hell happened? It’s hard to say.

Did it fix itself?

Did we fix it?

Were we just brain-fried, all perceptions distorted by one too many lattes and a pinch in our Rave 

puttees just where we don’t need it most?

What if it was just a bad USB port?

Why would it go out just then?

What happens when I change it back…???

You have to admit, this is semi-interesting stuff.

But if you get enough glitches, it makes you think. I’ve (he means we’ve – ed.) had to save this baby more than once, for example by going back a week and using system restore.

But the time to get a new machine is while the old one is still working. Yeah, it’s a pain to transfer files. But it must be done some day.

Virtually everything we have produced lately is backed up in the cloud. Putting things on a disc is old-fashioned and time-consuming by modern standards.

Where is the money coming from?

Credit card.

After doing some quick rounds of The Source and Future Shop, we have determined that a 1 TB desktop PC with 8 GB of RAM is $359.00. This model was not on display, but the gentleman said he had one in the back. That’s just under $400.00 after tax.

Our present system has a 40 GB HD and 768 MB of RAM. It’s a Pentium II that is puny in this era of 

rapid-fire gaming and wonderfully-rendered video. A one-TB HD is more than twenty times bigger than 40 GB in terms of storage.

One of the problems with this machine/set-up is the dinky 18.5” (diagonal) screen. We’re sitting four feet back, after all.

It turns out a 24” 1080 px screen with 1 MS response time is about $214.00 including 13 % HST (a sales tax here in Canada.)

A lifetime, single-user version of Windows 8 would be about $135.00 incl. tax. The fellow turned the demo model on and showed me the start-up menu. He also showed me an update or version where you can get to a proper desktop. This is what everyone is used to, and what everybody seems to like.

We could get a real good wireless mouse, and a wireless keyboard, and an honest-to-goodness office chair while we’re at it, as sitting on the kitchen chair causes some old editing injuries to flare up pretty persistently.

That’s a hell of a lot of money all in one go, zapped onto the old debt-load.

What if we break it down?

A new screen would bring immediate benefit, and we could pay that off over two or three months. We could pick up the new Windows 8 and then let it sit while we pay off our debt.

We could pick up the actual machine last, and worry about meeses and keyboard-thingies and all that sort of thing later. We don’t have to jack our credit by seven hundred or a thousand bucks.

Something like a mouse; we might even be able to pay for with actual money, which is often a good thing.

Because we’re all carrying enough of a debt-load these days.

We haven’t done anything yet, and there is still plenty of time to chicken out.

(Why don’t we just buy a $20.00 mouse and carry on? –ed.)

Because when this thing finally crashes, and all computers must crash at some point, we would be in crisis mode and have nothing to do except panic, and wait, and try to recover our files by paying good money over to our tech buddy so that he can try and salvage something from the mess.

And it would be a nice treat for the staff as well.

You know, as in Keeping up Morale.

If we get this done in a timely manner, we get to keep all of our old equipment, and then we have a backup in case of emergency. We don't even have to transfer all files. We would just transfer the current ones.

And, maybe we get a little peace of mind.

END

Notes.

Future Shop had nice little base units at around $400. They were one-third the size of a regular tower and had some impressive specs. That being said, the accessories, e.g. the screen, can be used with any unit.