2014 — 8 February: Saturday
For the second time, some random cosmic ray has blitzed the ability of my usually dependable TextPad editor to play nice with my usually equally dependable WinSCP webserver access program this morning. Could it simply be too early for the electrons? Do they need a push from the sun's photons, perhaps? And to think these things are supposed to be Finite State Machines (which I still [naively] choose to interpret to mean "predictable").1
Still, as you can see...
... there's more than one way to skin that particular feline. Doesn't bode well for my appointment later this morning to see what's up with Iris and her HP all-in-one new toy. Or, at least, the scanner section of same. She can already print and copy with it, but scans are disappearing into the great blue bit bucket up in the sky somewhere. Or 'Cloud' if my cursory skim of the reviews is any guide.
Meanwhile, there's breakfast to be made, another cuppa to be enjoyed, and a "Klicken Sie hier" invitation to be followed on an overnight email from the Teutonic branch of the Amazon. They may or may not be more successful than yesterday evening's phone call from Ms Toyota. She was gently probing to see whether I've made my mind up (yeah, right!) about my expressed wish to venture into the 'hybrid' technology now available for the Yaris. I do wish to, but there are many items competing for my limited widower's / pensioner's mite and a new car is pretty far down that list.
Besides, my present Yaris was Christa's last-ever birthday present to me and for that reason alone I'm in no hurry to trade it in. Bite me, Toyota!
I've remained...
... until today blissfully unaware of the doctrine of presuppositionalism. When Princeton theologian Cornelius Van Til (of whose existence I was equally blissfully ignorant) got hold of it he ended up insisting that the human mind can comprehend reality only by proceeding from the truth of biblical revelation. While I freely admit there are many, many things I do not know, I don't intend to start over from that particular 'truth'. God help me! (Link.)
It's six years to the day since I bought my trusty little electric crockpot. Brilliant idea... And, from the sound of it, it's now pouring with hail out there. How lovely.
Back from lunch...
... paid for by Iris, whose PC now scans beautifully and is also generally a bit tidier and slightly more secure than before my visit. Sadly, the weather put any post-lunch strolling out of the question so we settled for a nice chat in the Brambridge garden centre. While I was out, Mr Postie deposited a warning of the upcoming invitation for my second round of FOB testing. I must say, "faecal occult blood" sounds a lot less fun than guvmint-sponsored poo sticks, don't you agree?
I have a...
... reader who 'sees' my presuppositionalism, and 'raises me' to the dizzy heights of — I kid you not — Premillennial Dispensationalism. As he says, while the graphic timeline is amusing, "Read the rest at peril of your sanity". (Link.)
Nurse! Is it time for my pills yet? Better make it a double dose.