Dead Modem

No telling when I'll send this. No chance to get a new one before Saturday. The current dead one is the fifth modem for this computer. Just about ready for the big event tomorrow night. Finished up my wine station today, table cloths and hand-towels, and got 22 bottles of white wine in the fridge, 24 bottles of red in the vault at 68 degrees. I'm pouring the reds, one of Pegi's moms is pouring the whites and another dealing with the cash. The wine table generates a lot of cash. I'll have to sample them all, and that's a nice perk, so I'll be able to bull-shit about them. I actually do know a lot about wine, the product of 20 years actually making the stuff, so I can talk the talk. Since this is the "Alice" opening, there will, of course, be people dressed up as characters and it is even remotely possible that I'll be wearing a funny hat. A reach for me. But a chance to be the white rabbit, and it's a really cool hat, and the very idea that the janitor would be the white rabbit is a progressive idea. I can't see what's on my head, I might do it. My tendency is to wear the ball-cap that says "Simple" but I've probably worn that mule to a frazzle. I've been practicing chit-chat. If my math is correct, or even close, five ounces is half-a-cup plus two tablespoons. Dr. White, who chose the wines, said a serving should be five ounces, so I mark a glass and practice pouring; ten repetitions and I'm within a really close margin. Close enough. The magic phrase, if you've ever been in the trades. "Close enough" always marked that point of diminishing returns. Where further effort to make something more nearly perfect was really just wasted time. You work at the top of your form when you work freely. No mediation. The moon is a ghostly galleon, behind stick trees, her bow is raised in an oncoming wave. A Japanese wood-block print. I pulled all the connections and licked them. It often helps, saliva is a good connector. Moisture merely. I have a connection. The problem is usually dust.