Photos and computers and ants

This is where I walk, most days.  It's pretty darn hot in the sun today, so I walked back and forth by the lake in the shade.

Then when I tried to download this photo (and a few others) from my iPhone to my computer I got an error message,
so I tried about 5 more times.

All the while going out the front door to see the end of the house's new paint job.  Yay.  Now there won't be sudden surprises of a ladder outside one of my windows with a painter upon it.

So I tried a "talk on line with an expert."  The conversation ended at the time he said, "we can probabaly fix that.  Sing up for the premium service package."

I got the typo part, but wasn't interested in a premium package..anything!

So I returned to the "help desk" and asked for a phone call from Microsoft.  44 minutes later we'd reinstalled the driver for photos, and the error message was gone, and I could download my photos.  But I still became stuck on a black screen.

I've been living with the black screen of death for over a month, since installing version 8.1 upgrade.  And I guess a three quarters of an hour wasn't that awful for not expecting it to happen, not knowing why it happened, and of course grovelingly grateful that it's not worse.  At this point...

Now I can work with Apple and see if their driver is causing some difficulties with the Microsoft software.

Isn't it funny that there's a screen when you're supposedly email talking with a customer service rep, and this screen is supposed to be invisible to the CSR, saying please give feedback about the CSR performance...and the screen goes into a loop where you can't give feedback, it says your session is timed out (though you're still talking with him) and please sign in again.  And then, give feedback, your session is timed out...etc.

And these are the people who supposedly design these systems.  Nice to know, huh?

OK, calm down now Barb.  It's time for your meds.  I don't have any meds.  But I sure do need them.  Ah, a glass of something will help.

I am not going to call Apple yet.  I do enjoy talking to their CSR's though.  But I think I'll go live a little bit of reality, no longer attached to anything electronic.

BAM.  That's me dealing with intruder on the desk, namely 6 legs with pursuit of food on it's mind...an ant.  It's about the 5th one.  Problem to be dealt with.  Call Super Barbara!

Bins full of ...

Hops...different plants make different flavors in beer, apparently.  So we got to walk around smelling a very pre-beer smell, and could pick up a hop or two if we wished.

This was part of our tour of the Sierra Nevada Brewery a few weeks ago.  Thought I'd try to show you some of the last pics.

Last summer concert 2014

And then the music began.  I think having a good time at concerts includes very much the people you are with...and seeing more and more of your community.

Sitting in the front row, I enjoyed watching dancers, and of course children are welcome to play around. 

Siesta

A Mallard family takes a nap next to Lake Tomahawk.  The blue canopy is where weekly free concerts are held, while people bring their lawn chairs to enjoy the fun every Thursday during the summer.  My guess is these ducks will have ducked into a hiding place when that starts at 7 pm.

Please note: I write several blogs ahead of the date they are published, and this one is coming out after all the summer concerts have been held already.  They were wonderful, and the geese and ducks kept in the water, pretty safe.

Quote for today:

When you plant a seed of love, it is you that blossoms.

Ma Jaya Sati

More June Flowers - Art in Bloom 3

On the 17th of each month, I plan to share another lovely bouquet with you from June.

Quote for the day:

I swear I will not dishonor my soul with hatred, but offer myself humbly as a guardian of nature, as a healer of misery, as a messenger of wonder, as an architect of peace.

Diane Ackerman

Sanctuary

Quote for the day:

We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us.

Marcel Proust