Adsence on Memorial Day Weekend

  I had not seen any revenue from Google Ads in almost a year before I logged into my Adsence account today. Front and center has an advisory that my "earnings were at risk, you need to fix ads.txt to avoid severe impact to your revenue."

  My site currently doesn't generate the revenue of a small country, but I'm planning one day to have a larger presence. For the time being, I have to modify an text entry to correct an ad.

  That sounds simple.

  No it wasn't.

  I have never worked with html, instead using a copy and paste method to stand up the blog site, that you are reading. So now I have to start modifying code on a copy and paste site?

  Can't stand having to modify adsence ads to correct an entry.

  Good thing I have the entire three day of the Memorial Day weekend and the California Stay at Home Orders to correct this issue. I'll need all that time.

Happy Birthday Chickybabe

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  Happy Birthday Chickybabe

  Today, my eldest daughter turns 31.

  When I was 31 her mother and I had separated, and I went on to my best "role" as the divorced father of two daughters.

  Now, I'm just the alienated father of the same two daughters that I haven't seen in years.

  Perhaps when they read the Book, they will realize that their Dad never left them. 

Day 54 Writting Material

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  Day 54. That was last Friday. I fractured a rib.

  I would love to be able to say that it was a result of some super human rescue effort, but alas, the reality of the rescue is more comical than expected. I fractured a rib reaching for the television remote.

  Over the back of the chair.

  On the floor.

  The sensible thing to do was move the chair and ergonomically collect the remote. No, I had to reach over and the sound of the rib cracking was heard, not only by me, but by another.

  There was no blog entry last week as I tried to establish how much damage was done. I could breathe - that was a plus. I was able to stand and sleep, but the moment I got into the car the following day, that's when it started. The Doctor at the Urgent Care that I eventually got to (the following Wednesday) confirmed the splintering of the rib by X-ray.

  "Nothing we can do to help you," she said.

  Why did I bother to go.

  As an author, this would be my first "writer injury", that which was incurred in the execution of writing duty. I should be awarded a purple ink pen.

  This week, the writing slowed down as the crevice that is inside me bruised up with the fractured rib.

  The only bonus to come from this is that a second work I have written has the protagonist in isolation for almost a year. Now, they too have a fractured rib.

  Writing material from Day 54.

40 Days and 40 Nights

  40 days and 40nights have passed since I personally went into isolation due to the pandemic.

  Accomplishments? Not a lot, other than surviving.

  Did I have to accomplish anything in this time? No.

  Did I need to accomplish anything in this time?  No.

  What happened was during this time, others who were in need turned to me for their safety so that they did not fall to the virus.

  And what did I gain out this?

  Nothing.

  But I wasn't expecting to. I just did my job, as an essential worker to the two people who needed it the most.

  And, I did write a lot more than I expected.

Good Friday and an Easter Remberance

     Easter was a (mostly) enjoyable time for me growing up.

     As a child, it was school break, traveling on the longest weekend of the year, and with the autumnal weather, cool enough during the day and warm enough at night to sleep.  Later, I found myself in the servitude of the Church during the Easter celebrations, the mostly holiest time of the year.

     As a teenager, Easter changed. In 1982 my father, drove north to Laguna Bay where my brother and I sailed in our first major regatta.  We were rank outsiders, two young kids, unknowns. Not surprisingly, we were robbed blind after the final race. We drove home that weekend with a new focus. I would go on to win seven (7) titles, but nothing would ever erase that memory of that Easter.

   What I remember the most of that Easter was the weather. Old enough to remember, it would become the blueprint for all future Easter regattas I attended. Raining, wet, and despite the autumnal weather, cold enough during the day for hypothermia and not warm enough at night to sleep. My father would launch us off the beach, have warm food for us on our return, and relaunch us in the afternoon. He did more for my sailing history than I could ever thank him for.

     Here we are, 38 years later and the weather in Southern California this Easter weekend reminds me so much of what happened at Laguna Bay. The rain, the coldness, the thievery and the subsequent follow through. I am feeding two sick patients, albeit, not at the beach in the elements. However, I am currently on day 28 of isolation from Corona virus with the same emotions back then - there is nothing I can do to change what has occurred, but I will never let this happen again.

     Easter was a (mostly) enjoyable time for me growing up - I hope I have more enjoyment that this.

California...feels like 1974.

  California, during the pandemic, fells like 1974.

  In 1974, my parents were living in the married quarters of the local army base. On a Saturday morning, my mother would drive about 20 minutes away to a large retail center where we would do our grocery shopping. The aisles were packed as trading on a Saturday ceased at either noon or 12:30pm.

  Up and down the aisles we would travel, filling the cart, amid the noise of people chatting. If you weren't in the store when the doors open, by the time you reached some sections, the shelves would be bare and from past experiences, you knew that they would not be restocked before the end of the day, so you moved on without that item.

  At the checkouts there were lines of people seven and eight deep, but there was room to move as each shopper gave a courtesy to the other occupants in the store. The groceries and items were bagged into a light brown paper bag, and placed back in the cart.

  The parking lot was multi level, so on days when you parked on the lowest level, when you exited the store, you couldn't tell what the weather was like. You would look down and see streams of water beginning to run downhill through the parking lot and you knew it was raining. If you were exiting the store at noon, the rush would be over, and you might see the other stores closing up for the weekend. By the time 1:00pm arrived, everything was closed. People were home, no one was on the street, traffic was non existent.

  California feels a bit like those Saturday mornings in 1974. With the health issue across the nation, the eyes that I have 46 years later take in a different perspective, but it still has the same feel about.

  Except that in 1974, those were some of the best memories of my childhood. Not a lot of memories from the Covid crisis that I want to carry for the next 46 years. 

Fifteen Minutes At A Time

  I have established that, at best, while working from home, that I can work for a maximum of fifteen (15) minutes at a time.

  It's not that I lack the concentration or focus to enable me to perform for several hours.  It's the needless distractions that have to be attended to which limit my output, to fifteen minutes at a time.

  Today, I woke and sat down at my desk. Booted up the computer and during the morning email review, checked on the elderly parent that I care for. Thus endeth the first fifteen minutes.

  The dogs barked fifteen minutes later. Check and verify that they are barking at the wind.

  The cat started bitching about something. Get up and verify that the cat is just bitching about nothing.

  The landline telephone rings, it's a scam caller, so naturally, the elderly parent answers it.

  That's the first hour. I've risen four times for outside distractions, broken the train of thought and been distracted from my work.

  The second hour. The dogs again. Fifteen minutes later there's a truck driving by that makes a loud sound; and the dogs go apeshit. The usual swearing and cursing at the dogs hastens their retreat to the elderly parents lap. I no sooner return and the elderly parent is moving about in the kitchen - investigation required. Fifteen minutes later, there's a door slam inside the house - elderly parent has taken to their bathroom.

  While the current health situation has put a lot more people to work in their residency, there are a couple of thoughts about this. If we can work from home during a health issue, why can't we work from home after the health issue? The roads would be freer, the commute time would be reduced, people would still be earning an income.

  And then the dogs bark again, this time at a leaf falling...three miles away.

  And now I know why people go to their corporate office.  It's not so they can accomplish any additional work, it's so they are not working fifteen minutes at a time distracted by ridiculous home matters.  Far better to be distracted at work every fifteen minutes by the phone and loose two hours of your day in the commute back and forth, than to stay at home and complete the same volume distracted by..leaves falling every fifteen minutes.