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    A Tale of Unwell Words

    The symptoms started ten days ago. I was lying in bed, beginning Chapter 42 of Ruta Sepetys’ captivating WWII novel Between Shades of Gray when suddenly, a lower-case “a” popped out through my e-reader’s glass and just sat there on the surface. I casually brushed it away. Not two pages later, an entire “the” surfaced and slid sickeningly down the screen. I flicked that away too. But then a whole sentence coughed up and I knew I couldn’t ignore it any longer. A terrible thought entered my mind. Crud, my Kindle has COVID.

    It’s not like my e-reader hasn’t been sick before.  One time it suffered a full reboot during the tense climax of Paula Hawkins’ The Girl on the Train.  Another time it simply powered down amid the juicy bits of an Alessandra Torre novel (which turned out to be a warning to me to stop wasting time on trashy novels).  But this recent bout had the makings of something more serious.  My Kindle has always been perfectly healthy.  I don’t even put a cover on it.  As for spitting up words and sentences?  Never.

    Just to be safe, I got out of bed and quarantined my reader to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind me.  I didn’t want any of the real books on my bedroom shelves to get infected.  Early the next morning, I went to open the door to check on my little e-guy.  Only I couldn’t because the door wouldn’t budge.  I leaned in with a shoulder and it finally gave in, just enough so I could slip through.  Imagine my disgust when I saw the mess before me.  My e-reader barfed up at least four dozen books, piled all over the floor.  The poor thing’s screen looked paler than a Brightness of 2 and was uncomfortably warm to the touch.  The only image it could display was an Amazon Smile (encouraging, until I realized I was looking at it upside down).

    It was time for professional help.  I threw on my clothes, tucked my e-reader-patient into the leftover cover of a previous model, and headed to the car.  But where to go?  Of course!  A brick-and-mortar Amazon Bookstore!  As soon as I walked through the door, an eager young lady (right-side-up Amazon smile on her nametag) came forward to assist.  I choked back tears as I explained the misery of the night before.  She opened my Kindle’s cover gently, took a knowing peek at the dimming screen, and said, “Okay, let me just confirm your extended warranty.”  I told her she wouldn’t find one, to which her whole demeanor changed.  Suddenly she didn’t want to help me at all, and backed away slowly.  I felt so… so… uninsured.  Last resort, she pointed me to a nearby display of gleaming new Kindles and said, “You’d be better off junking yours and buying a new one.”

    I got out of there as fast as I could.  I mean, what sort of cruel, heartless person works at Amazon?  Junk mine and buy a new one?  Sorry, but all I could picture was my little e-reader flung carelessly into their alley dumpster; bookworms crawling all over it.  It felt like a scene from a modern-day Fahrenheit 451.

    Without insurance, my only other option was the free-clinic library down the street.  A librarian is more of a specialist than an Amazon Bookstore employee anyway.  But the regulations on the library’s front door made me pause.  Yes, I keep my Kindle socially distanced from real books.  Yes, my Kindle wears a mask outside of the house (even if it’s an older cover).  But was my e-reader vaccinated?  Heck if I knew. I couldn’t tell you the last time it went through a software update. So I could see how this was going to go down already.  The librarian would check Settings and inform me my Kindle was several versions behind on its operating system. There’d be nothing she could do for me.  Dejected, I drove back to my house.

    It’s been a few days now and my Kindle is still listless (er, book-less) but at least it seems more chipper after a dose of power.  It’s keeping down a few partial reads I’ve uploaded through “try a free sample”, as well as a Clippings doc in its library.  But don’t assume we’re out of the woods just yet.  I’m not ready to purchase any new books after that nightmare in the bathroom. I also neglected to mention my Kindle threw up its dictionary the night after I went to Amazon.  Talk about a loss for words.  I mean, dictionaries are bigger than almost any book, and a rich indulgence besides.  There’s nothing left in your stomach after you’ve lost your dictionary.

    I’m gonna go glass-half-full here and say my little e-guy’s gonna be okay.  He’s up to a Brightness of 4 today.  He’s holding a fairly focused, slightly bold version of the Palatino font.  He retained my Ruta Sepetys novel and I’ve read some chapters without further hurled words.  I even cleaned up the mess of “read” books he left behind in the bathroom.  So learn from my experience, will you? Use an e-reader cover. Get a fresh software update. Keep the power boosted.  And for gosh sakes; keep a reasonable distance from the hardcovers and paperbacks.  E-readers are more susceptible to the bad stuff than you think.

    Note: This is a work of fiction, pure and simple. Find nothing between the lines.

    Lego Grand Piano – Update #1

    The concert has begun! (my hesitant warm-up was captured in the post Let’s Make Music!)  Bag #1 – of 21 bags of pieces – assembles to this rather odd shape.  Imagine the keyboard running down the left side of the light-colored section, top left to bottom right. 

    There were a couple of tense moments when I couldn’t find the right pieces because I’d already assembled them in the wrong places. Unassemble. Redo. All good.

    Running build time: 60 minutes.  Musical accompaniment: Dvorak’s New World Symphony.  Leftover pieces: 1

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    Let’s Make Music!

    At the request of several readers, I’ve decided to bring you along on the adventure of building the Lego Grand Piano my wife gave me for Christmas. I’m hoping this music-making journey amounts to a pleasing “concert” instead of an arduous one.  More akin to Beethoven’s Ode to Joy than Korsakov’s Flight of the Bumblebee. No matter how difficult this “piece” ends up “playing”, I can assure you of one thing.  It’s gonna take me a while; likely beyond when the snow stops flying in Colorado. 3,662 Lego pieces won’t snap together by my next blog post, nor the next one.  I’ll give brief updates at the bottom of my other topics as I progress. Movements if you will, instead of the entire piano concerto all at once.

    And with a tap-tap-tap of the conductor’s baton, the performance begins!

    To start, we have an elegant 23″ x 15″ x 6″ cardboard box containing our unassembled piano.  The box advertises the piano in three languages: English (Grand Piano), French (Le Piano a Queue), and Spanish (Piano de Cola).  The box cautions I should be over the age of 18 and batteries aren’t included. Batteries? In a grand piano?  But I digress…

    The photos on the sides of the box tease the finished product.  First and foremost, the piano really plays once I assemble the several thousand pieces.  I don’t mean “play” as in a hidden music box with a digital soundtrack but “play” as in pressing the piano keys.  And speaking of piano keys, Lego provides only 25.  A real piano has 88.  In other words, the beautiful music my grand piano plays will be more Chopsticks than Chopin.  Makes sense because my Lego Grand Piano is only 12″ wide and 14″ deep.  Suddenly my fingers feel fat.

    When I remove that elegant box top, here’s what I see inside:

    As expected, the Lego pieces are divided into small plastic bags. (On the left, that is. The right is a smaller box-within-the-box looking like a square piano. We’ll get to that in a minute.)

    If I organize the bags so you can see them better, I come up with this:

       

    The audience gasps, in awe of the complexity of the performance unfolding before them.

    Okay, NOW I have concerns.  First, the bag numbers start with “10”.  Hey Lego, what happened to 1-9?  Second, Bag 5 showed up among the double-digits like an orphan looking for a family.  Pretty sure Bag 5 belongs securely in that black box to the right.  Maybe Bag 5 was trying to escape.

    At this point in the show, the phrase “missing pieces” tickles the pianist’s brain (but not the ivories).

    I also find the set of bags in the photo to the right.  I assume they pair with their partner-numbered bags when I get to that part of the concerto.  But maybe they don’t.  Maybe each of them is a little project unto itself.

    Little beads of sweat populate the pianist’s forehead.

    Yes, I’m nervous. I hastily put the bags back into the box (which suggests I’m already going backward with this project).  But I do want to see what’s inside that black piano-wannabe box to the right.  Have a look:

        

    Well hello Bags 1-9! I also found a few more of those partner-numbered bags.  But check out the disarray in the photo on the right.  Here we have three more orphan bags and, shockingly, a few pieces that escaped their bags.  What’s going on here?

    The audience shifts uncomfortably in their seats as the pianist hesitates.

    Finally, way at the bottom of the box, we have the pièce de résistance (Spanish: plato fuerte; English: main dish). Well hello, Mr. Instruction Manual.  Weighing in at a hefty 2.2 pounds and boasting 532 pages of mind-numbing steps, Mr. Instruction Manual is easily the heaviest item in the box.  He’s the equivalent of the phone book of a mid-sized city.  Furthermore, the plastic bag he came in included a little slip of paper shouting, “WARNING: To avoid danger of suffocation keep this bag away from babies and children.” Listen Lego, I’m not worried about babies and children; I’m worried about me.  I might be tempted to use that plastic bag to suffocate myself if I can’t complete my Grand Piano.

    The pianist makes it this far into the performance without any faux pas’s (English: significant mistakes), but then I choose to open Mr. Instruction Manual to a random page. Terrible decision! Have a look:

    Is this not an intimidating drawing? (Why yes, Dave, it is.) Does it look anything like a grand piano? (Why no, Dave, it does not.) Furthermore, you’re looking at Page 221, so we’re not even halfway through the build here.  I’m edging towards terrified, Lego.  Those pieces look small.  Those pieces look many.  And who’s to say the numbered bags make the one piece I’m looking for (amongst 3,361 of its plastic pals) any easier to find?

    The pianist still hesitates, his hands shaking noticeably held just above the keyboard.

    I wanted to finish this post with a photo of the first couple of pieces snapped together… I really did.  I wanted you to believe my music-making was officially underway.  But let’s be honest, my peek into the box where all those bags, orphans, and escaping pieces live, and the sheer size of Mr. Instruction Manual have me backing away from the keyboard (figuratively, followed by literally).  Sorry folks, tonight’s performance isn’t quite ready for prime time.  This pianist needs to change out of his sweat-drenched tuxedo into more comfortable clothing for now.  Let’s take an intermission, shall we?

    The audience heads to the lobby.

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    Fantastic Plastic

    On Christmas Day, any parent of small children will stifle a yawn, having built bicycles, dollhouses, and train sets the night before. After all, Santa doesn’t deliver unassembled toys. But hang in there a few years, Mom & Dad, because the building shifts from the giver to the receiver. Older kids want to create. In my generation it was Hot Wheels, Erector Sets, and Lincoln Logs. And one other toy surpassed all others for its ease of use and versatility. Lego.

    This piano even plays!

    My Christmas gift from my wife this year was a grand piano. Can you top that? Okay, so it wasn’t the kind worth five figures or special movers to get it across the threshold.  My piano measures a mere 12″ x 14″ and comes from the Lego “Ideas” collection.  When it’s finished it will have been built from 3,662 individual pieces.  I can’t wait to get started.

    A grand piano made of Legos means the simple interlocking blocks I had as a kid have come a long, long way.  Lego Ideas sets are “products inspired by and voted for by Lego fans”.  The collection includes a typewriter, a ship in a bottle, the house from the Home Alone movies, and the apartment from the Seinfeld sitcom.  Every Ideas product involves thousands of Lego pieces to assemble.  Every Ideas product was also completely sold out for Christmas on the Lego website.

    Fifty years ago, Lego was blessedly innocent.  All you had were small bricks in primary colors and if you were lucky, a paper set of instructions to create a simple house or a vehicle.  Otherwise, you just built whatever your imagination could come up with.  When my own kids were kids, Lego moved to product-specific sets like a T. Rex from Jurassic World or an X-wing Starfighter from Star Wars.  Sure, they looked cool when they were built, but I was always skeptical because the sets removed creativity from the experience.  You’d just follow the step-by-steps in the little booklet and voila – a T. Rex.  But call me a hypocrite because this sixty-year-old can’t wait to build his step-by-thousand-steps Lego Grand Piano.

    Lego has an interesting history – too many chapters to cover here.  The numbers tell the story in a nutshell.  The Denmark-based company is considered the largest toy company in the world.  Their bricks have inspired movies, video games, building competitions, and eight amusement parks.  Their factories have been churning out little plastic pieces for almost 75 years.  And at last count, that pile of pieces surpassed 600 billion (or 75 Legos for every man, woman, and child on earth).

    I didn’t expect to be a Lego fan as an adult but then came the Architecture series in 2008, cool buildings like the Taj Mahal, Eiffel Tower, and Empire State Building.  I just had to have one, so last Christmas my wife gifted me the 1,032-piece United States Capitol Building.  I didn’t clock how long it took to complete but I must’ve looked awfully confident in the assembly because now I’m staring down the more daunting Grand Piano.  Maybe my wife wants me locked down in my home office for the next several months?

    To underscore the popularity of Lego these days, the Architecture series alone includes 50 buildings and cityscapes, with more coming out each year (the Taj Mahal was released just last summer).  These sets run anywhere from $50 to $250, with the discontinued ones setting you back three times as much.  Sure, I’d love a Lego version of Frank Lloyd Wright’s “Fallingwater” house, but I’m not going to pay $800 to a collector just to have one.

    Lego “Church of Christ”

    No discussion of Lego would be complete without a nod to custom creations.  Our local Scheels department store has a larger-than-life Denver Broncos football player made of Legos, posing front and center in the toy department.  The Church of Christ creation in the photo here didn’t forget seating for an 80-member choir (below the big yellow crosses).  And the biggest custom creation of them all?  A full-scale Lego replica of the previously-mentioned X-wing Starfighter, first displayed outdoors in New York’s Times Square.  Try to picture 5.3 million Lego pieces and 23 tons of “toy” in the shape of a fighter jet.  Or just check out the photos here.

    Now that I’m done writing it’s time to break open the first bag of pieces to begin my Lego Grand Piano (and time for you to watch the ingenious stop-motion video below).  I’ll use the stopwatch on my iPhone to capture the hours I consume to complete it.  Er, days? Weeks?  I mean, Rome wasn’t built in a day.  Neither is a grand piano.  You might want to check in with me next summer to make sure I haven’t gone bats.

    Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia” and the Lego.com website.

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    Fa-La-La Land Down Under

    I have two nieces who, along with their families, call islands their homes. One lives on Hawaii’s Oahu, her house perched on the cliffs above Honolulu with sweeping ocean views to the west. The other lives in Brisbane, on the east coast of Australia. Sure, Australia isn’t really an island, though it is surrounded by water. By definition its landmass makes it a continent instead. But Australia does lay claim to a few islands off its shores.  Including one named “Christmas”.

    Christmas Island’s picture-perfect “Flying Fish Cove”

    Imagine living in a world so small you can walk from one end to the other in less than two hours.  Your fellow islanders are so few, your entire social life is like living in a college dorm.  Your diet consists of fruits, nuts, and crab.  Lots and lots of crab.  And the single contribution you and your island-mates make to the outside world is phosphorous from your underground mines.  That, in a crab shell, is life on Christmas Island.

    The first time someone told me there was a “Christmas Island”, I was young enough to be watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer every December on TV.  My favorite part of Rudolph’s story was the “Island of Misfit Toys”.  You remember, don’t you?  Rudolph was the reindeer-a non grata, mocked by the others because of his shiny nose.  Along with a couple other outcasts (Hermie, Santa’s elf who’d rather be a dentist, and Yukon Cornelius, the prospector who can never find silver or gold), Rudolph discovers the Island of Misfit Toys.  The island is a repository for unwanted toys.  As sad as that sounds, Rudolph’s island brings Christmas to mind much more than the little landmass I’m talking about today.

    Palm trees (not pines) on Christmas Island

    If you wonder why you’d ever visit Christmas Island, consider almost 65% of the island is a national park of unspoiled rainforest, with walking paths past 25 species of trees and 135 species of plants.  The only animals you’ll spy in the forest include the “flying fox” fruit bat, the recently introduced Javan deer, and the golden bosun (the island’s “official” bird).  Outside of the forest however, it’s impossible to miss the crabs.  Coconut crabs.  Red crabs.  Thirteen different species of land crabs, let alone those who prefer the ocean.  And here’s the best part.  Every year, one hundred million of them migrate from solid ground to water (to spawn), a sight mind-blowing enough to be called “one of the wonders of the natural world”.

    Watch the following short video on the chaotic Christmas Island crab migration.  Makes you wonder how you can walk anywhere without getting “crabs”.  If this is something you simply must see in person, find your way to Perth on Australia’s western mainland, and book one of two weekly flights to Christmas Island courtesy of Virgin Airlines.  Your 3+ hours in the air will take you over nothing but the vast Indian Ocean.

    It’s high time we addressed the most burning question about our little fa-la-la land down under.  Why is it named Christmas Island?  Here are popular theories.  One, “The rainforest is made up of nothing but evergreen (Christmas) trees.”  Two (for the geographically challenged), “The island is the closest landmass to the North Pole.”  And three “Christmas Island was the origin of the species diospyros virginiana, more commonly known as the sugar plum tree.”  The correct answer?  None of the above.  In the 1600s, European explorer Richard Rowe first set foot on the island, doing so on December 25th.  With no more creativity than a glance at the calendar, his discovery was dubbed Christmas Island.

    Norfolk Island pine

    I’ve got a much better “Christmas Island” for you.  Flip over to just off the east coast of Australia and you’ll find an even tinier landmass called Norfolk Island.  It’s about a quarter the size of Christmas, with the same number of inhabitants.  But Norfolk Island’s primary export is much more “Christmas” than phosphorous.  It is the evergreen Norfolk Island pine, a popular ornamental tree in Australia.  My wife and I found one at Home Depot a few years ago and bought it for her mother.  For small spaces, Norfolk Island pines make great Christmas trees.

    “Christmas” looks a little like an Aussie Shepherd!

    In defense of Christmas Island, there’s more going on within its shores than phosphorous and crabs.  Most of the residents live in the northern area of the island surrounding a coastal region known as Flying Fish Cove.  They speak one or more of five different languages.  There’s a high school and a public library.  There’s even a cricket club, which just celebrated sixty years in the game.  And most fitting to this time of year, twenty percent of the population call themselves Christians.  In other words, despite the uninspiring reason for its name, Christmas really does come to Christmas Island.

    Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

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    Christmas-Colored Glasses

    The twenty-minute drive from my house to the gym is fairly nondescript. The streets are two-lane straight with a few turns and traffic lights along the way. Not much to look at on a winter’s morning. But the month of December brings about a miraculous change. With the car stereo belting out songs of the season there’s suddenly a lot to see through the windshield.  It’s as if I’m viewing the world through Christmas-colored glasses.

    Maybe you’re like me when you’re on the morning drive.  You’re half-asleep, a little bit late, and the slightest miscue by another driver puts you in a bad mood.  I try to blank out the world around me by toggling my radio presets between news and sports.  It’s a wonder my lack of focus gets me to the right destination.  But Christmas music changes all that.  The happy tunes bring everything back to the crystal and clear.  They’re like a gift for the spirit.

                    

    Two radio stations in this part of Colorado switch over to Christmas music in December.  An adult contemporary station runs an endless loop of about thirty “holiday favorites” from Thanksgiving to New Years Day.  I’ll bet they play the Boston Pops’ version of “Sleigh Ride” and Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas” four or five times a day.  It gets old.  But they also play the best of Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, and Andy Williams so I forgive them. Then we have our Christian contemporary station.  Their round-the-clock Christmas playlist keeps it fresh, with more carols than pop songs.  They’re a little more in tune with the reason for the season.

    Earlier this week I absentmindedly tuned back to one of my regular music stations.  Mistake. Their version of celebrating the season had people calling in to say why they deserved to be on “Santa’s naughty list”.  One caller said she babysat recently and told the misbehaving child Santa died of COVID.  Another said he slept with his ex’s sister and a week later slept with the sister’s best friend.  Seriously?  This is the spirit of the season?

                    

    Spotify plays its part on my drive, especially when radio stations bend to the inevitable commercials.  But not playlists.  Albums.  Spotify Christmas playlists just don’t cut it for me.  I have yet to find the perfect mix – you know, not too much of this, not too little of that.  I think Christmas albums by individual artists or groups do a better job of a “just right” playlist, which is why I’m peppering this post with three of my favorites.

                   

    Now then, let’s get back to those Christmas-colored glasses.  Exactly what did I see on my twenty-minute drive?  A lot more than I did before I tuned in to the season’s songs…

    • Children headed to school, laughing and singing as they walked.  I think we can agree; Christmas is all about children.  Or at least, one child.
    • Signs in front of churches advertising Christmas Eve services.  Most offer a 5pm, 7pm, and 9pm option, meaning lots of people are heading to church on Christmas Eve.  As we should be this year.
    • A lone tree at the end of a driveway decorated with just two ornaments.  What to make of it?  Maybe a senior citizen lives here, and two ornaments are all he or she can manage.  A reminder to gift to our local “Christmas for Seniors” program.
    • A third-story apartment and its tiny balcony decorated with garlands, wreaths, and lights.  Yes, all walks of life celebrate Christmas no matter the look of their “house”.
    • The sign at the gas station advertising today’s fuel prices.  Unleaded is advertised in red numbers, diesel in green.  How’s that for impromptu Christmas decor?
    • Our little town’s myriad Christmas decorations, covering trees, buildings, and lampposts, I may not always agree with the spending of our tax dollars but with this investment, they get it right year after year.

    This is my personal mandate for the 2021 holiday season.  Take the rest of the month and listen to nothing but carols whenever you’re in the car.  You’ll don a pair of Christmas-colored glasses and be amazed at what you’ve been missing around you.  Believe it or not, the world looks pretty good right now.

    Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

About Me

The sky is not completely dark at night. Were the sky absolutely dark, one would not be able to see the silhouette of an object against the sky.

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