NEVER Mix Mosaics and The Cable Guy

OK, so.

I am finally moving into the world of Hi Speed and Wi Fi and other things that are only two letters long. I am ditching the Dial-Up. There is a little problem caused by The Un-Named Monopoly Phone Company, which installed incompatible (oops!) Fiber-Optics, which is not a breakfast cereal to promote good vision. Making it impossible to continue to use my Internet Carrier that I have had for a bazillion years. Since MainFrames. Unless I want to keep Dialing Up, which I do not. Because the converse of Dialing Up is being Dropped. Which I am sick of.

So I have succumbed to the Cable Come-Ons. I bought a Bundle. TV, Hi Speed Internet, phone. Everything on one bill. Great price! (for 6 months, then actual charges revert, retroactively. Substantial surcharge for indoor plumbing, people who take non-generic prescription drugs, and homes of more than 1200 square feet. Prices subject to change. Not available to households in flood zones, or those with more than 6 cats.)

And today was the Day My Phone Number Could be Ported.

Which means, I think, that I will get a big bill from the Phone Company for Exportation of my phone number. And a big bill from the cable company for Importation of my phone number. But I'm no expert on Immigration Law.

So, anyway, I was given a "Window" of time in which to expect the Cable Guy to show. Generally, if you have a 3 hour "window", the technician will show up at exactly 2 hours and 59 minutes into your window. Unless you go to the post office. Which is when he will show up.

My Guy showed up 23 minutes before the "Window" expired. I was feeling lucky. And I was well-prepared. I had a lot of projects that I could finish at the kitchen table, while Cable Guy did his thing, and asked me VERY important questions. Like, "Where is the cable box we issued to you in 1993? It is showing up on your account."

Uh, we haven't used a cable box since 1994. All the important stuff comes straight through the wall, into that cord. And then into the TV.

"Yes ma'am. But I have to pick up your old analog box. Where is it?"

Perhaps I used it as a doorstop in the playroom? Gave it to the Salvation Army? Sold it in a yard sale? I have no idea.

Cable Guy calls in, "She doesn't have the box." Then he rattles off a VIN for a NEW box, which now sits on top of the TV. So much for all that technoprattle about "boxless" cable.

As usual, I digress.

I had Projects. Very Important Projects, to keep me busy; yet available to Cable Guy. One of them was Millefiori Collage. That is, quite simply, the use of veryveryvery tiny pieces of exquisite millefiori glass, arranged into pleasing patterns, creating unique pieces of art that one can wear. You can see them in my Etsy shop, and on 1000 Markets.

"Millefiori" means manymanymany flowers. Hundreds, thousands, millions. Lots and lots. And the mosaic artists create the TINIEST flowers, to use in the TINIEST spaces.

I had my Millefiori, 3 or 4 pounds of them, at my disposal. Ready to create, while the Cable Guy created a streamlined Web Presence for me.

The only problem is that I also have

Foster. The Geek Cat.

I made things, the Cable Guy made connections (with absolutely no need for the old analog box, I might add.) And then the Cable Guy left. And I carried some supplies back down to the studio, where I heard a noise; unlike any noise I had ever heard. But if I HAD ever heard three or four pounds of mosaic pieces, the size of 1/3 a grain of rice each, raining down on the hardwood floors and then rolling as far across the living room, bedroom, kitchen and dining room as they could before encountering a permanent obstacle like a wall; well, I would have bet it sounded something like that.

According to Foster, it was a test of something like force times velocity. But I was not interested in explanations, no matter how noble the cause.

Everything Old is New Again

I have always been rather proud of my cleverness. I can string together words and sometimes people laugh. I can make art out of trash, which probably wouldn't have gotten me a seat on a Titanic life boat. I can get a pill down a cat gullet, which I don't mention often, because my friends all have cat gullets in need of pills; and they are not shy about asking for assistance. And I usually know how to get from here to there, which used to mean a lot of panicked calls to my cell phone until I gave out GPS units one year for Christmas.

But now I realize my "clever" is really just "marginally clever." Maybe even just "kinda clever for a non-clever person." Possibly even, "well, she THINKS she's clever. What's the harm?" I have just faced Mega Clever, And I've had a two-hour drive to marvel over it. I have returned from the house my brother-in-law (with help and encouragement from my sister-in-law, of course) built.

Oh, so YOUR brother-in-law builds houses, too? I bet he feels very clever. But I'll also bet he doesn't build log cabins.

Yeah? He built one? Put the kit together all by himself in a week? Well, nanny-nanny-boo-boo...he didn't build it out of

raw trees.

No joke, BIL cleared a "footing" ("place to put a house", if you're not building literate) and peeled the resulting trees, which were now officially logs. I mean, I guess he peeled them. They don't have any bark anymore. They are about the size of interstate bridge pilings. I have trouble peeling thick asparagus.

Then he stood some up on end, and glued others lengthwise in between. I understand the concept, but I can't imagine how. The strongest stuff I know is Gorilla Glue, but I wouldn't trust it to keep a pile of eight foot long logs in an eight foot high, one atop another configuration. Maybe he used that stuff they show in the infomercial where they put a blob of it on the roof of a Volkswagen Beetle and stick a crane hook in the blob and crank the VW up to the top of a building. Which I think is a pretty stupid idea these days, given all the crane accidents. So now crane manufacturers are scrambling to prove that not only were none of those accidents their faults; but their cranes are also perfectly safe for lifting Volkswagens with blobs of Infomercial Adhesive.

Eventually, BIL made a Log Box. It had a main room and a sleeping loft; and an outhouse. So if nature called during the night, one had to shimmy down a ladder and walk through the wilderness to answer the call. Prompting my sister-in-law to maintain a 4 PM fluid intake cutoff, until BIL decided to add a real bathroom. (I think that was very clever on her part. A Fluid Boycott.)

There was a problem, though. BIL had used up all his native pine trees, and had also run out of friends and family to convince that "that pine there really needs to come down. A little bit of ice, and it's Hello Living Room! Hey, I just happen to have my equipment with me - let's deal with it and I'll haul it away for you." So he had to come up with a new method of tree collection.

You know when there's a storm and everything gets knocked around and amazingly a Good Samaritan in a flannel jacket shows up (with a gas powered chain saw) and kindly clears the road for you? And tells the local On The Scene news reporter "Just trying to help a neighbor..." That's BIL.

He next added a living room and a bedroom, using logs cleverly scavenged (with permission) from a logging site nearby.

Then he built a fireplace out of pieces of an old patio a friend replaced. (BIL marvels, "They were going to throw them away!") My repurposed candy wrappers and bottlecaps are now mere specks of dust in the recycling universe.

My sister-in-law pointed out a subtle but Oh-So-Clever touch in The House Made of Trees - the curtains (can't confirm or deny whether they were dyed by boiling them with local plants) are held back with, not ties! Oh, no! Antlers.

So I was thinking as I drove, these folks have it going on. They are prepared. Yeah, I can change a dead-bolt, and I can get my car radio out of "Safe Mode" (whatever that is. I think it means "doesn't work") without going to the dealership. In case of emergency (or getting chosen to be on a Reality TV Show) it is good to know how to build a house out of trees. And how to peel them, and stick them together.

I spend too much time on this computer. I am going to shut it down for the night, and...um...go churn some butter.