Monday, September 28, 2020

Internet down – again!

Another day without Internet. Somehow, by day 26 of 30 of the month, I've used all 30 gigs – despite carefully titrating my use. I’ve experienced the same thing for the last four months: no warning that I’m approaching my monthly capacity – just suddenly no internet. 
It consistently happens on a weekend, too. I’m about done with this.

News blues…

Instead of increasing my level of anxiety about breaking my promise to myself – to post every day of Lockdown – I’ll simply do my best. If I’m late posting a daily pandemic diary, so be it. I’ll post when technology re-establishes my connection to the great wide world.

Healthy futures, anyone?

Review of David Attenborough’s “A Life on Our Planet,” – a stark climate emergency warning 
‘I am David Attenborough and I’m 93. This is my witness statement.” There is a tremendously moving sense of finality about Attenborough’s terrifying new documentary on the climate emergency. It is being marketed as a retrospective, a look back at his life and 60-years-plus career. But make no mistake about its true agenda: Attenborough is here to deliver a stark warning that time is ticking for the planet. It is a personal film – and political, too. There is emotion and urgency in that familiar soothing voice.
[Attenborough warns] …that it’s not too late if we act now. Halt the growth in the world’s population. Create no-fishing zones. Stop eating meat. It’s not about saving the planet, it’s about saving ourselves.
***
Mea culpa. My endless appetite for dark chocolate – and the appetite of millions of others – has bitter environmental consequences 
Cocoa production, catering especially to a wolfish demand for candy in Europe and the U.S. (each American consumes about 9.5 pounds of chocolate a year; in Switzerland, 19.8 pounds) has led to the decimation of forests.
***
RVAT: Packers Fan WRECKS Trump Worse Than Favre Wrecked the Jets  (4:30 mins)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

Prepping to sell the house continues. I’ve uncovered a maternal consumption philosophy that is diametrically opposite my ow. I like nice things but I lack the over-consumption gene. My mother's theory: buy in bulk, have other people manage and monitor consumption and – if someone cannot find a purchased item – buy more.
This means this house is full of duplicate items, or items still in boxes having never been opened or used.
For someone who lives on a houseboat, it is unnerving to find myself surrounded by “stuff”. My instinct it to give it away. 
***
My mother’s relocation to the Care Center is complete (sort of) and her – and Jessica, The Dog’s - settling in proceeds. My mother’s sole focus is Jessica’s happiness – and she appears to believe that my sole focus should be Jessica’s happiness, too. (Displacement theory is alive and well: deny your own anxiety and place it upon someone else/a pet – then focus on that creature’s anxiety.) 
Nevertheless, I regularly drive to the Center with freshly cooked giblets for Jessica, Beeno biscuits for Jessica, a non-slip mat for Jessica. (The non-slip mat was an attempt to secure the plastic crate intended as a step for Jessica to mount my mother’s bed. The first step worked well but was too large for the small room. Alas, the crate slipped and Jessica fell spectacularly. Since then she'd ignored the crate, even opting to sleep on the floor. An unheard of humiliation..) I was instructed to return the too-large step.
***
I cancelled today’s visit today as I’m feeling unwell and, with coronavirus, a visit to an establishment catering to the elderly could spell disaster. My potentially compromised health had me delay picking up Jessica’s organic anti-anxiety-med-impregnated collar from the vet. Miraculously, the vet was heading toward the Care Center anyway and she dropped off the medicated collar.
Jessica’s eating habits, a reprise. While my mother and I agreed that Jessica “must” begin the arduous task of transitioning to canned dog food. Jessica, alas, has other ideas: canned dog food? You expect me to eat canned food? I don’t eat no stinking canned dog food!
My mother explained Jessica “doesn’t want it.” Jessica’s refusal scares my mother. What if… the dog starves? … the dog is insulted by the new dietary direction?
I try to lay the ground for Jessica’s transition to the more practical, Care Center-centered diet - whether she “wants it” or not. “Mix small amounts of canned food into Jessica’s high-end giblets meals to acclimate her.”
“But,” my mother tells me, “She doesn’t like it.”
“She will get used to it,” I urge. “Canned dog food is the practical solution. Your job as leader of the pack is to demonstrate to The Dog how to adjust to change.”
Alas, this goes nowhere.
For me, it’s back to carry freshly cooked giblets to the Care Center.



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