Mr. Technology

Mr. Technology here, battling my router manufacturer, upgrading old machines, converting operating systems, and wishing for fewer blackouts. My router technology outdated ten years ago, and while my neighbors are probably too stoned to figure out how to hack my network, it was time to upgrade. I bought a Belkin N600 Play HD because it had all of the features of the Linksys I was considering, at $30 less. I am almost ready to consider that the extra $30 for a Linksys may be worth it, as the Belkin does not work with my static IP address. I have spent hours doing everything short of beating this thing and it will not do static. Perhaps not a big deal for most people, but I need that static IP to get into my work machines.

The Amish have it easy. If I did not work in the webby world, I would join them in their no-tech world. This might throw a wrench into the lamb videos I want to start posting, but would totally be worth it. I am sure I could learn to get up at 5 a.m. to milk the bulls, or whatever it is that you do at that ridiculous hour.

When I have not been battling new routing technology, the wife-person has been making me fix computers for her work. I have managed to extend her wireless network nicely, as well as increase the wired locations. I have also figured out how to get what will be Linux machines integrated into her network. That last bit should ease a few of my headaches. The majority of her computers are from 2001-2003, and incredibly slow. With a little Linux, they suddenly become tolerable again.

And what do I do when I am not filling my spare time mucking with computers? Walk. Today I walked to Moonstone for the first time in what feels like ages. It was overcast, misty and occasionally rainy, and altogether wonderful. The surf was brown, sand thrown swirling in the waves, thanks to the storm. I watched someone throwing balls for his dogs. And when he left, abandoning his little terrier thing, I walked with her up to the Westhaven Community Center, then called the number on her collar. Poor Charlie. The woman who answered sent her man over to pick up the poor abandoned Charlie, and I continued home, reeking of saltwater, sand and wet terrier.

Had I time tonight, I would have walked into Trinidad. I need out of this house, away from myself. Maybe then I would not smell so much of wet dog.

(pssst– If I get a break at lunch tomorrow, I’ll throw up something video-y and lamb-y . . . )

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