Borrowing Library E-books

Very cool, exciting tech news for me. I borrowed an e-book from the library while wearing my jammies and eating breakfast! 

I’ve been waiting since December when I got my Kindle, hoping that libraries and Amazon could reach an agreement. They finally did. I don’t know how many books are currently available. But the book I looked for, which is a new release, was lendable through the library. Interestingly, my library had the hardback version of the book and I could have borrowed it, but they charge a fee for new releases and they don’t for e-books. Yay!

It was pretty easy to download—of course, tech-daughter has already done it so she said, “Click there, click here, click that. Now turn on your Kindle so it can download the book.” Voilà. Now I have the latest Daniel Silva book to read while I run the treadmill this afternoon.

A brave new reader’s world. No more driving to the library, trying to remember which days they are open. No more overdue fees. I’m loving it.

As for Walter the squirrel, someone gave us a humane trap (Thanks, Ken) so we're going to try catching him again. In the meantime, Walter has been a busy boy. Here he is attending a Cardinals game this week. Click here to take you to MLB and watch the video.

Death of My Vine

Yesterday my treadmill died. Of course, it didn’t just die. It was murdered. Sort of. My eldest son decided to run. Now in all fairness I must explain that my treadmill had gotten temperamental. It worked for me, but had long since stopped working for Calvin. My best guess was that the motor couldn’t pull much weight any more.

When Luke asked to use the treadmill, I thought, what’s the harm? After all, if it won’t pull him and least he gave it a shot. What I didn’t count on was him forcing the treadmill. It didn’t want to be forced and decided death was preferable.

Luke had been working out at the university, and I thought he could run there. But yesterday they announced to him that he could no longer work out because he wasn’t taking summer classes. Luke explained that he was a full-time student, registered for next semester, and was in fact working as a teaching assistant in Chem Labs this summer. They didn’t care. (And for some reason alumni can use it during this gap in classes. Not sure where the logic is in this...)

For my run this morning, I had one option. Run outside. Along the evil ridge hills. Cal pointed out a run that was slightly less hilly—only four ridge hills, instead of eight. And since it’s not a circuit run, multiply it by two. Thus, it’s only eight hills. Anyway, I did it. Though I can’t imagine doing it when it’s 80 or 90 degrees instead of 65. In July if you see someone overheated and puking on the side of the road, that’ll be me. And I really miss reading a book while I run. Instead, I get to watch out for cars driving down narrow roads at ridiculous speeds. I’m beginning to feel a bit like Jonah when his vine died. But at least I’m not waiting for the Ninevites to die. Hmm. Maybe I need to change my attitude. How about: Running ridges in the heat is great. Nah. I don’t think I can ever believe that. How about: Running ridges in the heat is great because it feels so good when it’s over. Yeah. I can live with that.

Non Inanimate Object

Inanimate objects are supposed to be, well, non-animate. The word is a combination, part of which is derived from the Latin word animus, which means spirit. (I know this is much more than you care to know, but be patient.) So, inanimate objects are supposed to be things without the breath of life in them—things without will or volition. Did you notice how many times I used the words “supposed to”? Guess what that means.

It means that we have an inanimate object that has will and discrimination. Our treadmill. It likes me. It hates Calvin. The treadmill runs for me. It stops for Calvin.

For example, I power up the treadmill, balance my glass of iced lemon water on one side, slip a brainless library thriller in the book rack (it’s my treat for exercising even though I despise exercise), and run. I adjust the speed up and down during my two miles and sometimes adjust the incline. The treadmill obeys all my requests perfectly and immediately.

Calvin powers up the treadmill. It runs happily at whatever speed or incline he turns it to. Until he steps on—then it stops. If he steps off, it runs again. He calls me, and we adjust the various belt pulleys, etc. It still stops whenever he gets on. So, he asks me to run. I step on and the treadmill runs perfectly for as long as I’m on. Then, he tries. It stops. It also runs perfectly for each of the children, including Luke whose weight is similar to Calvin’s. You might think it’s a glitch, but it’s been doing this for months—ever since Calvin broke its hydraulic arm (see blog post, Son of Samson). Our treadmill is punishing Calvin. “Bad Son of Samson—I won’t work for you anymore.” I wonder if it will ever forget what Calvin did to it. Or is a treadmill like an elephant?