In the next 20 minutes, I plan on asking the office about the lifted late-'90s navy blue Crown Victoria with brand-new off-road truck tires and dark-tinted windows. I saw them when I pulled in. It was like they were checking something out. It could be innocent, but I did not get a good vibe from them at all. My hair stood up.

You have to have a special energy/way about you to clip a dog's nails without them freaking out. Maverick has always had difficulty with this aspect of his care since pulling him off the streets. Today, Maverick had a quick and calm nail-trimming visit. His success formula = his prescription stress pills a full day and night before, the morning of, and him being wrapped just so in one of their blankets, plus butt scrunchies. I ensured this vet tech communicated this, and it was documented yet again. This was not done during the last visit. At the last visit, muzzles were involved, and the phrase "alligator roll" was used. The tech and the tech team did not use the blanket. Hopefully, this will be better going forward.

Make old-school customer service great again.

Grok is generating images now. I tried generating a picture of myself + my dog, and it broke... ahahahah. So here's a pretty picture instead.

The social graph on iris.to reminds of the graph view in Obsidian.

After I'd explained to the tech guy at my local office supply store what I was looking for and what I needed with exact specifications, he said, "We don't have that." Then, he explained something different than what I'd requested. When I further explained that I'd seen those specs on boxes and product descriptions for the items in question because the technology is smaller and these items contain it, which is why I was specifically asking which of those items in the store had that, he simply said, "Uh-uh. I looked it up." He points to the Google/Gemini-#AI-generated blurb of what I'd asked for and says, "That's not what it is," then tapped on his phone. "It says so right here." I kept a straight face, took a breath, smiled sweetly, thanked him for his time, and proceeded to the cash register with what I had. I have no words.

I'm editing some footage. I found raw content I filmed in January. It was kind of basic and crappy. I've gotten better at it since then. Hoping to take pieces of the earlier videos and use them in lessons on how life is always changing.

With Nostr, I feel like I'm in a coffee shop where people are talking. Except, you're free to join conversations and others are mostly welcoming to your contribution. Then you can leave again and go back to reading your book in the corner with no pressure or expectation. Regardless of what you do, others are happy you're there. Even if you never spoke to anyone, it feels like I spent time with people. Except, unlike other places, I don't feel the need to perform.

On Nostr, notes don't live forever necessarily. They only live if they are still part of a relay that's communicating.

When I was a teenager, my family of four had to move into an 18-foot Class C RV. My dad took a job across the state, and we had nowhere to live and no money. My parents did the best they could. We eventually moved into a little double-wide for rent in town. People might look down on that, but I'm telling you right now that summer and the next 18 months were my childhood's two most memorable years. We did free things and drove almost daily into the region's outskirts. My brother and I would explore the ruins of abandoned cabins, peeling back layers of wall insulation of the day (newspapers) to reveal dates from the early 1900s. We played outside because the inside was really only for sleeping or shelter during storms. We went to every museum and attended every free event downtown put on. We became experts at which washing machines and dryers worked the best in the local laundromat. We spent copious amounts of time in the libraries, especially the one that had the basement where a rummage sale happened each week. We experienced extreme weather bouts where we learned so much about ourselves and the world around us. We hiked on the weekends. Mom had to take a part-time job. I used to help her periodically and learned some things by doing that, too. I learned about angry yellow jackets, bucket rides that helped you scale mountains, and legends of the local Native Americans. Forest fires happened the following summer. After that, we joined the mushroom pickers for a chance to make extra money. I remember I got to keep around $20 for putting up with Dad dragging us up the mountainside. Mom wasn't 100% pleased, that I remember, but it was a good adventure, and by the end of the day, my brother and I were too tired to argue. The wildlife was unmatched for that part of the world. I'm sure my parents had an entirely different perspective on things, but those two years were full of imagination, awe, and discovery. Thirty-five years later, I still remember the most details from that period. I never would have had those experiences had we not moved into that tiny RV, no matter how temporary. #story #stories #memoir

Part of the challenge of being on #social media is that I have the belief that every time I step foot onto a platform, it's going to be a fast and easy trip. Nope. Opinions flying. Things you can help with. Things to laugh at. Sometimes you can make a difference. But I have to change a bit how I do this. There's things in the morning I want to accomplish first.

Mood. 1954. Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window.

When I was younger, I regularly wrote 10-20 pages by hand only to find 2-4 "gems" that I loved. Out of that batch, I'd also find 1-3 starting paragraphs, my main points, and usually a summary. Sometimes, I'd find more #story ideas. Lots of paper. Lots of pens.