Dozer, the bulldog

Dozer, the bulldog
Dozer: He was the best dog on the planet.

Bonding

Bonding
The author of Mark's Work with Ellie Mae

Guess who's coming for dinner

Guess who's coming for dinner
Blue heron, sitting on the dock of our pond

HappyDay Farms bees are happy bees.

HappyDay Farms bees are happy bees.
Air-borne bees

BFF's forever

BFF's forever
Margie and Ellie Mae

Tomatoes and peppers are us.

Tomatoes and peppers are us.
Spicy salsa with roasted peppers, here at HappyDay Farms

Much love, John-Bryan

Much love, John-Bryan
Eric at 26 on the left, and John-Bryan in January of 1973.

Halloween fun

Halloween fun
SmallBoy and Dancing Girl

Our house

Our house
The snow season approaches...

Mahlon Masling Blue

Mahlon Masling Blue
My friend and brother.

Mark's E-mail address

bellspringsmark@gmail.com

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Your Site


Your Site

And now, ladies and Gentleman, let me interrupt this baseball blog to bring you an actual, old-fashioned, all-‘Merican, Commie-Hatin’, “normal” piece of writing on the state of the [M]ark.  If it’s March, then I am sailing, sailing, ever upward and onward, without ever leaving my work space.  Fortunately, for the first March in the last four, I have pretty tight control over the reverberations of being manic, and am happy to report great success.

The experience at Around the Foghorn has gone full circle from excruciatingly painful to euphorically enjoyable, with the full blessing from Annie, who has supported every component of the process since its inception.  It was she who sat down with me and started at the beginning, going over both written material and films, when it became obvious after two weeks home from Redding, that I was stuck, unable to go forward and about to let it all fade away, like so many other mood spectrum-related illusions.  There have been a few of those.  So Annie and I began to take notes, we revisited, and I am now in full control of all that is technologically Around the Foghorn.

The barrier to success in the project was so elementary as to make me blush.  However, instead of getting angry or frustrated with myself, it makes a lot more sense to share-in agonizing detail-just how dumb of an error it was.  I do not do this to put myself down, so much as to allow others to see that if I, who is perceived as so intellectually capable, could make such a bone-headed error, there is hope for everyone who thinks that I know it all.

It’s not difficult to explain.  I write for Around the Foghorn.  In the filmed tutorial, potential writers are guided through the process of posting a piece of writing on ATF’s website.  I found the whole thing more than manageable and had a piece of writing all ready to format.  Unfortunately, I could not access the ATF site because I was using the wrong URL.  The directions said, type in “yoursite” followed by the rest of the characters in the address.  So I did.  Again and again, to no avail.

When Annie and I got to this point and she understood what was happening, she just looked at me as calmly as could be imagined.  “So you typed in ‘yoursite’ and it didn’t work,” she said.  I nodded.  “What is YOUR site?” she asked, with emphasis on the “your.”

“My site?  You mean Around the Foghorn?”  And then it hit me like the proverbial sack of cement.  Typing in “yoursite” was wrong; typing in “aroundthefoghorn” was correct.  Oh boy.  It just rammed in how patient the editors at ATF have been all along.  I just hope the investment pays off.  It sure has for me.

And there you have it, as I’m on my way (metaphorically) to Arizona to cover the last game of spring training that I must follow via computer, with my horrid internet access.  See you at CSNBA.

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