Plug-In Tech Support, Dog on the Bus, Gardening Grapevine

maryangelis

Aug 6

I had to plug in a new Apple Mac Mini. That should mean plugging a polarized 3-prong plug right in to a polarized 3-prong socket in my surge protection power strip. But what's this? The new Mac plug is non-polarized and 2-prong. Hm. This was going to need a 2-prong to 3-prong adapter. So I took a bus trip to the big hardware-&-everything store. At the counter, the friendly mechanically inclined men directed me to the adapter aisle section.

This was a big section at the way back, with boxes and bins full of everything one could think of for adapting any gizmo to anything else. Some were very elaborate, some industrial-sized, a lot of it had a vintage look as if it came from a salvage yard or was sitting on the shelf for years. I pored over all of the different types. There was not a single 2-to-3 in sight. Back at the counter, the men were puzzled when I described the type needed, even when I explained again holding up 2 fingers on one hand and 3 fingers on the other, with plug/unplug hand gestures. They advised me to get in my car and take the Interstate three exits to the commercial electricians' warehouse. "They can advise you on the safety," one man said. "You sure don't want to be plugging in the wrong thing and blow up your house."

Instead of finding a weekend Interstate bus line and doing the Finger Dance for the electricians, I went home to fret for a while. Then the following week I logged in to our workplace Tech Support office hour, and told them the story. "Why does a new Apple model require the most exotic adapter? What are the odds of blowing up the house? This is all Greek to me!"

"Apple takes care of grounding the connection right inside the new model," said our IT team. "Apple doesn't bother telling you that. They just tell you that the model is sleek, and comes in a cool silver color. You can just plug it right in to your power strip. The hardware store is required to warn you, just in case you were going to take the power strip and plug in your washer or dryer. And by the way," they protested, "Since you are actually learning Greek, you have henceforth surrendered the right to say that."

"Good point," I said. "Ok, it's all Javascript to me."

"There ya go," they agreed. "Enjoy your new Mac."

__________

On the bus back from the hardware store, there was a long wait at the transfer stop. The sun was beating down. The other passengers had a distressing time in the heat. Many were weighed down by personal belongings, and needed to keep their bags and bundles together and ready to move quickly. One woman with a shopping cart of clothing seemed especially upset; she was talking rapidly into her cell phone, in a raised voice monologue to some patient listener. I didn't understand her language, but she was clearly agitated. Her speech was slurred, her gestures erratic; she was pacing and darting back and forth. On a heavy chain she was yanking and dragging a very small thin white dog. He was whippet-shaped with pointed ears and a furrowed brow and very expressive face. He was on constant alert, trying to predict which way the chain would yank him next, dodging people and his owner's erratic feet, looking frightened of the traffic, searching our faces. I wished that his owner would use a light leash and stop yanking him around, that she would either pick him up, or at least place him securely in a sit/stay between her feet with a few words of encouragement.

Finally the bus arrived, and we all got on. The dog rushed to hide under the closest seat, right at the front. The woman and I sat there opposite one another, on facing seats. From across the aisle, now in English, still in a raised voice monologue, she began telling me her story. She had no family. Her medical and housing and social support systems had fallen to pieces. She'd had multiple strokes that affected her speech. She had heart failure and terribly swollen knees that made it painful to walk. She showed no awareness of the dog's presence or mood, but told me that he was a stray rescue and her only friend without him, she did not know how she could get through the day.

I leaned forward and watched her speak to better understand her story. As she told me all about her daily life, I expressed admiration for whatever good decisions she'd made to build a margin of safety for her and her dog.

At the sound of my voice, the dog snapped to attention. Dragging his chain he shot out from under the seat and stretched up to tuck his paws in my lap and hide his trembling face flat against my chest. I circled him with my arm and sheltered his head with my hand. I wanted very much to grab the chain and the dog, tuck him in my jacket, and take him right to Angelina's so we could share custody. "Surprise! New pack member!"

The owner rang bell, grabbed her shopping cart, and tugged the chain. The two got off the bus.

__________

On Friday night the leaves in my lovely nasturtium patch began turning yellow. A closer look showed that black aphids had taken over, seemingly overnight. They coated the plants like fuzzy pepper. Rolling up my sleeves I carefully unwound twelve feet of lush beautiful flowering vines from among the neighbors' vegetables and fencing. In sections I snapped off and wound up spools of vines, getting sticky aphid essence all over my arms, holding the greenery at arms' length and marching them to the compost bin. (I was walking them to the landfill bin for fear that as recycled compost they would spread to other gardens. But Captain Wing spotted me. "Just take them to the compost bin. Aphids won't survive that.") The whole routine made quite a spectacle for the children. They wanted to come exclaim with surprise and dismay, pointing at but not touching the moving fuzz of aphids.

It's touching and sobering to witness how these little ones will run right over and follow me around and believe what I tell them just on faith. To me, children are not particularly cute or fun; they are astute witnesses who watch and remember, and before them I'm responsible for every word and action. Jesus was clear enough that anybody who misleads them is heading toward a millstone and the sea.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm pulling up the nasturtiums."
"Why?"
"See this black fuzz? That is black aphids. They are living on these plants."
"Why?"
"Because aphids enjoy drinking plant juice. But it's not good for the plants."
"Why?"
"Because the plants need that juice for nutrition and energy. If aphids take too much, the leaves turn yellow. It's not good for the plants."
"It's not good! For the plants!"
"That's right."
"I don't want those bugs on my DRESS."
"Yes, I don't want these vines to get on your dress or my clothes, so I hold them out like this."
"You are holding them away because it is BUGS. I don't like any bugs."
"Well, when they are at home outside all bugs are good if they are in balance with other bugs."
"Has to be balance! With bugs!"
"Yes. It is only a problem when ONE kind of bug takes over all the area and gets all of the food. Then it doesn't leave room for other creatures. That's why I'm taking these to the compost bin now."
"Mom said I can walk you to the compost bin! We can take them there!"
"Ok. It's right inside that garbage cage. Then we'll come right back to your mom. Here we are at the bin. It's full of vegetables and fruit."
"There is a lot of fruit in there! It's everybody is putting their fruit!"
"Yes. The city picks up the bin, and turns the vegetables and plants into compost. It makes dirt for growing plants."
"Then the plants can grow! And it's good for them!"

A slightly more pleasant job was hacking down the whole spearmint patch. The plants are in full flower, but the leaves developed a white powder mold. To my mind, if the plants aren't pretty and in top form, out they go. So I snipped off the flowers, buzzing with happy bees, and placed the flowers in a crock of cold water. Fortunately, the bees were happy to transfer their efforts to the cut flowers.

Neighbor A asked whether Neighbor B would be interested in selling a small bag of leftover potting soil at his back door. He of course made an assumption that I would know Neighbor B and would know where to find him and negotiate the deal. As it happens, I did know Neighbor B, and his favorite smoking corner. While I was out gardening he came outdoors, and I posed the question. Neighbor B named a reasonable price of $6 for the half bag. I headed on over to Neighbor A's apartment to let him know. Then of course at his door I realized that it would be more efficient to just walk back again, pick up the bag, and tote it over there. I walked back to Neighbor B's. But the bag was too heavy for me. So, I started out for Neighbor A's again, to knock on his door and let him know about the $6 and the bag. But before knocking I remembered that Neighbor A works nights; I'd have to go upstairs and write him a note instead. Then I realized it would be smart to first walk to Neighbor B's and just hand him $6 instead of brokering a meeting between the two. But when I arrived, Neighbor B had gone indoors. I'll just leave Neighbor A a note in our Daily Journal greeting notebook that we tenants keep on the lobby table.

Meanwhile, texts were coming in about the garden from people who could look out the window and see me puttering, and from more people strolling by on the street.

Where are the nasturtiums? They were really pretty. Why did you get rid of them?
Thank you for watering the Wings' garden today. I did it yesterday, so we're good for now.
You have some cherry tomatoes getting ripe. You should eat them before the squirrels do.
I'd like to prune back my [plant name here], but there's some kind of Chinese herb growing around it and I don't want to damage any. Whose is that? [It's fish mint. It walked over from the Wings' garden. I'll go move it out of the way.]
Where's the SPEARMINT? It had flowers!
Are the Wings ok? I haven't seen a single Wing in 2 whole days.

I answered all the texts and several verbal inquiries with the glad tidings that The Wings are fine. They're just taking vacation from the lot of us.