Today did not start well

My morning routine is to spend a couple of hours writing my daily blog. I rarely have one in queue. Today my routine was upset. Sometime overnight we had a power glitch. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue. I have a UPS system to provide backup power and to isolate my computers from the power main.

Last night the outage must have exceed the time my UPS can provide power. All four of my servers were down.

It took me awhile to get everything back up—time I would normally use to write my daily post. The downside is no post today. The upside is I’ll be back, writing again, on Monday. Y’all have a great weekend.

I’m Dated

For years, I’ve had a standard response when asked my name. I’m known by my middle name.  All my official documentation, however, starts with my first name followed by my middle initial.  Why?  My first name is the same as my father’s.  There are many, many people in the world in the same situation.

No big deal.

My first and last names are the same as a famous, or so I thought, golfer. My response when asked why I’m known by my middle name is, “Well, there are too many Tom Watsons running around.” That is usually followed by a short pause and then a chuckle.

I started using this response some years, well, decades ago, when I bought some gasoline using my credit card.  That card just contained my first and last names.  When he looked at my card, the attendant started asking me questions about the Master’s Golf tournament.  He thought I was the golfer ignoring the fact that we look nothing alike.  I’m much bigger than Tom the Golfer.

No longer.  Last week I started physical therapy to help relieve pain from tendinitis in my knee and shoulder. My PT is a thirty-something woman.  She reads my chart and calls me, “Thomas.” I respond with my standard response.

**Blink, blink **

No reaction. We continue with the session.  The next session we run through some exercises and she tells me she didn’t understand my name response the previous session until she mentioned it to her husband. She and her husband are outdoors people—hiking, sky-diving but apparently, no golfing.

We continue with the session until it’s time for some ultra-sound treatments. An early twenty-something woman arrives with the equipment, reads my chart and calls me, “Thomas.”  I reply with my standard response.

**Blink, blink**

“Who?” she asks.

“You know, Tom Watson…the golfer,” I reply.

“Never heard of him.”


Yup. I’m dated.


It seems that the posts I had queued for today and tomorrow have gone, “Poof!”  I spend yesterday afternoon on them, apparently, to no avail.

Now, if I can just remember all the details.

Back to the salt mines.