Category: OCF

Wednesday, Wednesday 02APR2025

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Ah, the Spring Honey Do List.  The most fiendish accumulation of annoying indoor and outdoor chores imaginable to the fevered brains of wives.  I had just finished what I thought was my chores for the day and had taken a shower when I saw Camera Girl raking the leaves off of the edge of the woods and her flower beds.  Now there is no more useless pursuit than raking leaves out of a forest but what can I say?  Female fastidiousness is as powerful as it is inexplicable to the mind of man.  When I saw the piles of leaves she had raked I foresaw her stooping to pick up all those leaves and painstakingly haul them to the other side of the property to her mulch pile and knew it would take days and break her back.  So, I rushed out and told her to leave the leaves(!) to me and I’d chop them with my push mower.  Hearing that I would be doing this she then proceeded to finish off the other woods for the sake of completeness.  Ah Chihuahua!  Well, no good deed goes unpunished.

But honestly chopping leaves with my trash mower is kind of fun.  After four to eight passes (depending on how wet they are) the leaves just about disappear into thin air.  It’s remarkable what steel and kinetic energy can achieve.  And I did get to see all the plants she uncovered along the woods.  The day lilies are about four inches tall.

The hostas near the woods haven’t appeared at all and some small woodland plants are already out and about.

After she left, I spent another half hour disintegrating the remaining leaves.  When I returned inside Camera Girl came running over and thanked me profusely for sparing her all that stoop labor of moving the leaves to her mulch pile.  And I thought to myself, “I am a good person, amn’t I?  Why else would she be so happy.  So, over the course of the evening several times I reminded her of how nice it was of me to come to her rescue and take care of the leaves.  But what I noticed was that after each iteration of my reminder her gratitude seemed to diminish.  And, in fact the decrease accelerated.  At the end I believe it tailed off sort of like the curve of y=1/Xn where n= the number of reminders and y= her enthusiasm for the reminders.  So, her enthusiasm approached zero as a limit but never quite reached it.

I brought up this observation to her.  She used some Italian hand gestures from her distant past and went back to the cooking tasks that she was busy with.  It’s a shame that her high school back in Sheepshead Bay didn’t do a better job of preparing her mathematically for her life ahead.  Being able to graph and recognize the various curves of common functions is a basic requirement of our technological age.  But we all have to be flexible and adapt ourselves to people as we find them.  And that is a tenet of my relationship with her and I remind her of it from time to time.

April Fool’s Day 2025

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No thirty inches of snow!  No ice storm!  No baseball sized hail stones!  April Fool’s Day didn’t punish us here in New England.  It’s a bloomin’ miracle.  It’s a pretty nice day so Camera Girl handed me her “Honey Do” list.  The one item I’m stalling on is walking the property with a garbage bag and a stick with a nail on it picking up all the trash that has blown into the wooded areas.  As Sergeant Snorkel told Beetle Bailey, “If it don’t walk, if it don’t talk, police it!”  But it’s annoying.  It makes me feel very uncharitably toward the whole human race when I see what kind of stuff they toss out the windows of their cars.

So, I was driving down the main east-west road in Dunwich in a section that is full of blind curves and rolling hills when up ahead about a quarter of a mile I see something in the road.  I see it’s moving but it’s too short to be an adult human so I slow down.  “Could it be a child or is someone sitting or kneeling on the road?  And then I can see.  It’s a huge tom turkey with his feathers and wings all puffed up.  He’s in the oncoming lane and he’s staring me down!  So, I creep past him looking for his harem.  But I couldn’t see them.  Either they were shielded by the trees or they were gone.  But Tom was sticking to his guns and wasn’t afraid of me.  So, I left him there and in my rearview I could see him still standing there like some blithering idiot trying to act as crossing guard to an invisible flock.

After cutting down the raspberry canes last week I’ve been hoping to see some leaves sprouting up from the dirt.  So far nothing.

But the hellebores are coming up.  More confidently in the sunnier areas and tentatively in the shade.

And likewise for the daffodils.  We have three different stages of development depending where they are on the property.

The hostas near the house have just broken ground.

And this little crocus is bravely showing its colors.

So winter is climatically over.  I will now stow the shoe spikes, snow shovels, ice scrapers, snow blower, snow boots and all the rest of the paraphernalia that litters the mud room and move forward into the growing season.  And now that the ground is completely thawed, I can begin things like fixing fences, gates, damaged wood and all the other weather-beaten components of my poor house and adjacencies.

And I will move the lawn mowers to the front of the shed and contemplate that fateful moment when I drive the mower over the grass for the first time this year.  Right now, it’s unimaginable.  Some of the grass is overly long and soaked with winter water in the soggier areas of the west field.  Some areas are worn away by snow, ice and rain.  Other areas are dead and brown.  Cementing the whole thing over sounds like a better solution.  But in just a very few days the darn thing will revive and life will return.

And in honor of this projected return of life I have put out ten preying mantis egg sacs.  I purchased them from an American company that said they are Chinese mantids.  Well, why not?  Apparently, they’re already outcompeting the Carolina mantis right here in New England.  Who am I to stand in the way of Darwinian selection?

The only thing left to cap off the beginning of spring is the reappearance of the pond turtles.  They have not made their reappearance but Camera Girl will keep me apprised of their status.

“O brave new world that has such people in it!”

They’re Good Company

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Today was a tough day.  Very sad things going on for some friends of mine.  But, let’s see what we can talk about that’s not too sad.

Penny is our basset hound.  She’s one and a half years old so Camera Girl considers her a “puppy.”  Really, a psycho is what she is.  She attacks our German shorthaired pointer relentlessly.  I attribute most of this insanity to Camera Girl’s criminally lax dog training.  But I don’t rule out congenital brain abnormality as part of the answer.  Anyway, this dog dotes on me.  If she had her way, I’d spend twenty-three hours a day scratching her enormous ears and the voluminous folds of skin on her throat.  Suffice it to say she follows me around the house hoping for an ear rub.

But today I had to get into a suit.  White shirt, tie, suit jacket and pants, black leather shoes.  The whole thing.  I come down the stairs and she takes one look at me and goes berserk; barking and growling at me.  She doesn’t recognize me!  She’s dancing back and forth looking like she either wants to bite me or run away.  I’m yelling at her at the top of my lungs trying to get her to recognize my voice and calm down.  I’m also worried she’ll shake her jowls and splatter my suit with basset drool.  Finally, she runs into the living room while I go out through the kitchen door.

I came home four hours later and almost the same thing happens.  She’s barking and howling and carrying on.  So, I go upstairs and get changed and come down in my regular clothes and she stops and looks at me and acts confused.  She won’t come near me but she isn’t barking.  Slowly she shuffles closer, sniffing at my feet and looking hesitant.  Then finally she snaps out of it and accepts that it’s me.

Bassett hounds are supposed to be second only to blood hounds in their ability to recognize scents.  So, what the hell is wrong with this dog?  Now, sure I wear pretty much the same shirts, pants, shoes and socks every day.  But if I put on another suit of clothes, I’m unrecognizable?

What goes on in the tiny brain of this dog?  Apparently, I’ve become a very stable pattern in her mind and any small change to the details of my sensory image, whether scent, sight or sound immediately convinces her that it’s not really me.  Maybe she’s been watching one of the various versions of that classic of cold war paranoia, “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.”  Apparently today I became one of the pod people walking the streets, disguised as her favorite ear scratcher.

Well, all is forgiven again.  I spent the requisite five minutes scratching her gigantic heavy ears and telling he she isn’t a psychopath.  It’s all lies of course but we somehow have to get through the day as a family.  So, I’ll make believe she’s a good dog.

But I will say she helped me get out of the funk I was in.  Dogs are useful, even crazy ones.  They take your mind off of big problems at least for a few minutes and from what I’ve heard petting them even lowers your blood pressure.  Well, all the yelling I did probably had the opposite effect but either way she was good company.

Update

 

Ed Brault In reply to photog.

I’m the same way. My “Wedding and Funeral” Suit and my “Military Funerals” Class-A uniform hang in a zip-storage bag in the back of the closet.

As for the Basset, well, it must vary by the dog. I visited my folks after a tour overseas, and their St. Bernard, who hadn’t seen me in nearly four years, shot straight to my car, expecting me to take her to the beach, just like my last visit.Brault0000001A

reply by photog

Yes, i think you’re right. It varies by the dog and this particular canine is a little high strung. Or just plain crazy, depending on your literary style.

The Juvenile Novels of Robert A Heinlein – A Short Discussion

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I had so much fun with the Heinlein short stories that I’m rolling into the Heinlein juveniles.  I think many people understandably feel that the juvenile novels may be Heinlein’s best work.  I confess I’m of two minds about that.  They have different properties and leave room for adult novels to show their quality in a different way.

But let’s see where we can go with these stories.  I think I’ll rank them best to worst according to my incredibly sensitive literary faculty.

 

Have Space Suit—Will Travel (1958)

The Rolling Stones (1952)

Farmer in the Sky (1950)

Starman Jones (1953)

Citizen of the Galaxy (1957)

Tunnel in the Sky (1955)

Red Planet (1949)

The Star Beast (1954)

Space Cadet (1948)

Time for the Stars (1956)

Between Planets (1951)

Rocket Ship Galileo (1947)

 

I’ve left out Starship Troopers (1959) because although Heinlein included it in his juvenile series.  I think it’s actually one of his adult stories.

Now my order is obviously idiosyncratic and to be perfectly honest most of the stories are fairly equally good so it’s a very rough sorting.  I did put Rocket Ship Galileo last because now, space nazis do seem a bit silly to me.  But at the time the story seemed just fine to adolescent me.  Maybe depending on the day “Tunnel in the Sky” and “Citizen of the Galaxy” could switch places on the list.  And maybe a few other ones too.  But let’s go with this.

The only story that I think I can objectively hold up as accurately ranked is my first choice, “Have Space Suit—Will Travel.”  I think Heinlein did excel his usual juvenile story here.  The protagonist, characters and plot devices are especially enjoyable and I can say even now, a sequel or two in this universe might be a fun read.  Who knows, maybe one day I’ll contact the Heinlein estate to find out if they have any provisions for making that part of his intellectual property available to “respectful” collaborators.

I gave copies of all these books to my grandsons as soon as they were old enough to read.  I consider them excellent company for growing boys.  Just looking at that list of names makes me think of picking up “Starman Jones” or “The Rolling Stones” just to relive the feeling of reading them for the first time.  They are each a touchstone to a very happy time in my life when the local library had a whole shelf of these Heinlein stories just waiting for me to read them and move onto the next one.

One other word on these books.  Of all the books, I think “Between Planets” was the only one I never reread.  I remember it took place on a Venus that was tropical in climate.  There was a Venusian named Sir Isaac Newton, I believe, but I don’t remember very much else about the plot other than some kind of interplanetary political intrigue.

So, what is your order of excellence?  And what is your rationale?  And where exactly do you stand on the “Starship Troopers” question?  And what is your opinion on space nazis.  Leave your comments in the comments section below.

Bridging the Generations (Part 3)

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Sorry I was missing from the site most of the day but today was a grandson visiting day here at the Compound.  Tertius (the third) is currently twelve years old.  And that works out because I can still keep up with him in a baseball catch and shooting pool without looking too feeble.  Against all odds (the recent weather forecast) the sun was out and it was about fifty degrees.  And after two half-hour catches, I can proudly say my right shoulder and elbow are both reasonably intact.

Camera Girl provided the requested bill of fare (spaghetti and meatballs, cookies and cream ice cream, lemonade) and I provided the requested cinematic presentation (extended version of “The Two Towers).  The conversation was limited to an in depth discussion of how Elrond and Aragorn could be related, his current progress in school band (baritone horn) and the trade-off between a lot of snow (which he likes) and not getting out of school until late June (which he is against).  I tried introducing the question of dark matter but I didn’t seem to spark his imagination with it.  Probably needs some background in physics first.  I guess seventh grade science isn’t that advanced.

I’m happy to find that we have maintained good relations and I recognize several of my traits in him (the poor kid) and am highly pleased that we both enjoy a baseball catch as a good way to pass time and get a little exercise.  Now, if he were sixteen, I’d probably be too old.  And come to think of it sixteen-year-olds have other interests than playing sports with old fogeys.   But currently I can throw it far enough and fast enough to keep him interested in the game.  And it’s actually good exercise for me too.

And at 6:30 pm I drove him home to his parents and told Camera Girl that all is right with the world and we must have done something right to have such nice grandkids.  To be honest, she probably did something right.  I’m just born lucky and hang around with the right people.

So, I checked the news to see what I missed today and so far, I don’t see anything new.  Trump, blah, blah, blah.  Musk, blah, blah, blah.  Resist, resist, resist.  Rinse, repeat.

I was glad to see there was a fair amount of interest in the Heinlein post.  I figure a lot of folks from our generation were fans back in the day of RAH.  I’ll say that reading his stories gave me an interest in space and when the time came to think of engineering as a profession, his stories made it seem more interesting than it might have without his influence.  Of course, he didn’t warn me enough about how stupid everyone in the executive suite would be.  But maybe it was a different time.

So now we have to prepare for our visit from Quartus (the fourth) in the next couple of weeks.  We have to nail down the menu.  I already know his choice in movies.  He’s going to demand at least a triple feature of Godzilla movies (Lord help me).  As far as sports it may be something esoteric.  Sometimes the kids have toys like tops or yo-yos or other less recognizable geegaws.  But now is the time to go through the research stage so that the actual event goes smoothly.  Who knows?  Maybe bowling or laser tag will be on the agenda.  Well, I better rest up.

18MAR2025 – How the Week is Progressing

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What’s to say today?  I guess the most interesting news event is Musk’s Space-X stepped in and brought the astronauts stranded on the International Space Station home after Boeing stranded them there six months ago.

There’s something ironic in this situation.  Boeing has been in the news for the last year because of defective aircraft that many have associated with DEI based hiring practices.  And now Space-X; an Elon Musk company that prides itself on merit-based hiring, steps in and solves a frightening situation with a can-do approach to space flight.  It’s like watching the two approaches to hiring compared face to face before our eyes.

I guess the other big story is that lousy judge trying to block the deportation of Central American gang-bangers by the Trump administration.  Afterward Trump said he should be impeached.  And so Chief Justice Roberts opens his big mouth and says that precedent doesn’t call for impeachment on a difference of opinion on a judge’s ruling.

As if that were what is going on.  These slimy leftist judges will stall and block everything the Trump administration wants to get done for the American people.  We will see this for the next four years.  If Roberts wants to be at all useful, he should expedite all requests by Trump’s administration to have these phony judges’ decisions reviewed by the Supreme Court and allow Trump to fix all these problems.  Of course, impeachment will never solve the problem.  We would need a supermajority in the Congress.  What we need is the Supreme Court to provide constitutional review of these awful decisions.

Today I finally got a handle on the impasse I’ve been wrestling with in finishing my book.  What I need is a good crisis/resolution to reach the endpoint.  So here is a situation where you know where you want to end up but there needs to be a struggle to make it feel satisfying.  But I don’t need another physical battle.  I need a popular revolt.  And I think I’ve figured out an angle.  I think I’ll withdraw the consent of the governed.  I’ll have a national guard unit revolt and then let it cascade across a state and then across the country.  Now I have to figure out the dramatic details.  I’ll have the national guard unit refuse to hand over my protagonist then when the Army wants to send in regulars, I’ll have the governors of the four states where Connors people are located close ranks with all of their national guard troops to deny the arrest.  And then I’ll let it swell from there.  That seems pretty good.  After that I’ll let the newly appointed president convene a Constitutional Convention to begin cleaning up the mess that the Deep State has caused.  And that will give me a nice breakpoint to allow my protagonist to be pardoned by the president.  And more than pardoned, exonerated.  And then I can allow him to ride off into the sunset which is something I’ve been thinking about for a while.

So that’s what I was doing today.  Thursday will be a long day when I’ll be working on stuff I hate.  But that’s life.  I have one of the grandsons coming over Saturday.  That should be fun.  Apparently, he’s voted for spaghetti and meatballs and mint chocolate chip ice cream.  So, I’d better do some extra time on the rowing machine this week.  But maybe I’ll burn some of that off with a baseball catch.  I hope my shoulder is still functional after a winter of chopping ice.  I wonder what movie he wants to watch?  I hope it’s “The Return of the King.”  I haven’t seen that one in a while.  I think the “Ride of the Rohirrim” is about due.

Well, that should be enough for now.

Ain’t It a Grind

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Okay, enough about Trump and Musk and DOGE.  Sure, they’re saving me trillions but leave me alone about it will you?  Just send me my share of the loot when you break it loose.

And enough already about Ukraine.  Everybody knows by now they should just stop the killing each other and get back to being cold all the time like they’re supposed to be.  So, until they wake up to this reality, I’ll let Trump shut off the money and the whole stupid merry-go-round will slow down and stop.

And about the government shutdown.  Just shut up.  We’re all tired of that game.

So, what do I want to write about?  Well, I want to write about writing.  My writing.  I handed my story treatment over to Ark Press but that was a cry for validation.  I wanted to find out from an expert if it’s good stuff.  But unfortunately, the story isn’t finished.  So regardless if it’s deathless prose, I’ve only got 55,000 words and I need to finish a number of plot lines and story elements.  I think I have a major character to kill and I may even remove a chapter that moves things into a more difficult direction.  And, horror of horrors I may actually try to entangle two of the characters in a romantic relationship.

The main problem is how I end my war.  The action is frozen in a bit of a stalemate as both sides attempt to figure out a path forward.  The US government is a mess after the attack on Washington decapitated the federal government by destroying the White House, Capitol, Pentagon, Department of Justice and the intelligence agencies.  They’ve cobbled together an administration but after the late president’s nuclear attack on Connors’ organization and the country’s reaction there is fear that another ham-fisted military action might start a real civil war.

Connors’ organization is reeling from the shock and anger over the deaths of thousands of their friends and neighbors.  And the realities of trying to guard against the government’s next move and restoring the lives of his communities to some semblance of normalcy is not going smoothly.

So, I need a way to resolve both of these situations in a dramatically satisfying action.  I’m thinking of having my protagonist, Bogey (the sniper) put on trial and using that as the device to sway public opinion into some kind of reformation of the United States.

I also need a plot device that clarifies the back story for my computer genius Cutter and his AI stepdaughter Mel.  I think I have to tie Cutter and Chastain together with some deep dark history.  Maybe even something that neither of them is aware of but Mel digs up.  And I think to work out the story right I need to kill Cutter off.  But how?  Is there a rogue element left over from the CIA or Army intelligence who hunts him down and kills him?  Maybe.

And then there’s the love story.  Bogey’s son’s widow has four kids who need a father and Connors is a lonely nerd who also happens to be a billionaire friend of Bogey’s.  I’ve already added a few sparks between them but how to progress it along?  Obviously, the woman will have to move things along.  This will be something new for me in storytelling.

And last but not least, I have to find a satisfying ending that still leaves room for the next book.   I like the idea of having a world where scientific innovation has been established and I can push off in various directions.

So, as you can see the book is far from finished.  But I’m such a lazy man that between work, chores, the daily website stuff and writing the novel I’m overloaded.  Oh well.  Such is life.  Grumble, grumble.

Oh, Damn the Power’s Out

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We now return you to your original program already in progress.

So yesterday Ithaqua, the Great Old One known as the “Wind-Walker” knocked out my electric power and internet connection.  What a vindictive jerk.  Well, the generator kicked in but it caught me flat-footed.  I hadn’t loaded my post for yesterday or the night before’s, “Photo of the Day.”  So, apologies.

I went through the whole dance.  I charged up an old flip phone I keep for just such situations and tried calling up my truly useless power utility and my truly useless cable company.  And spent about fifteen minutes with each trying to escape from their AI and get information from an actual human being.  Completely in vain.  The power company told me it was after their business hours so no actual humans at all.  The cable company had humans but they are actually worse than the AI.  They know nothing, they care about nothing and they sound so bored all I could think of was the, “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” monkeys.  I noticed that both outfits promised to call me when they knew something about restoration of service.

Power returned almost 24 hours later around 3pm today.  And ten minutes after restoration the flip phone rang and both companies called to say that service would soon be restored.  Words failed me.

Being cut off from television, the internet and any news of the outside world was at first annoying.  But by late this morning I think I was starting to enjoy it.  I watched a movie on DVD (Mel Gibson’s Hamlet) and some music on an MP3 player (Traveling Wilburys) and felt relief that I wasn’t entranced on YouTube or X.  But all too soon Camera Girl saw a convoy of utility trucks heading down our road.  So, she dared me to get up and follow them.  I drove about a mile up the road and there was a truly colossal white pine being sawn into manageable pieces and stacked by the side of the road.  An hour later the generator cut out and the phone started ringing and civilization had me by the throat again.  Oh Ithaqua, we hardly knew ye.

So now I have to find out what I missed.  As far as I can tell, nothing.  Democrats prancing around trying not to look irrelevant, ridiculous and despicable, but failing.  Trump and his merry band running around breaking stuff and calling out world leaders as losers.  Cable news companies firing their half-witted staff by the bucketful.  Check, check, check.  So basically, nothing happened while I was hurled back into the nineteenth century (well, kinda).

But there was some progress.  We got some warmer (if windier) weather and the majority of the ice melted off the bottom driveway.  So, I went out there with various shovels and hammer-sliced it off the blacktop and piled it on the grass.  And I went to see what condition the west field was in.  It’s the wettest area of the fields and in spring it can be 6-8 inches of mud that makes it a bad idea to walk on it.  But it’s drying nicely and maybe tomorrow I might go back there and cut down the older raspberry canes and put down fertilizer for their spring growth.  And I took out a pair of binoculars and looked at the trees and sure enough the buds are ready to bust open anytime now.  So, ignoring the world for a day was a great thing as far I can tell.    But I’m back and ready to chronicle whatever tomfoolery the usual suspects get up to.  But it’s good to see the world is finally shrugging off winter and Dunwich is ready for spring, renewal, new life and all that crap.

The Old Man and the Afternoon

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So, the tax accountant got back to me today and told me I owed Uncle Sam a couple of thousand dollars and because of that I had to pay some kind of penalty.  Well that really sucked and I had to go adjust my deductions on my paycheck and blah, blah blah … it ate up half my morning.  So, I was out of sorts today.

Because of all that, I needed to do something fun this afternoon.  Camera Girl and I decided to watch a movie we both like and haven’t seen in a long while; Ernest Hemingway’s, “The Old Man and the Sea.”  It’s the one with Spencer Tracy as an old Cuban fisherman who catches swordfish.  He’s recently become “unlucky.”  He hasn’t caught a swordfish in 85 days and the boy who used to help him has been told by his father to find a luckier boat.  So, the old man is all alone and he goes out to try his luck one more time.  And the story is a folk tale about a three-day odyssey to land and bring home a giant swordfish, bigger than his little sailboat.

In a way it’s a meditation on life and old age and fate.  It’s a simple story and mostly takes place between the old man and his mythic prey.  Most of the dialogue (or soliloquy) is the old man talking to the fish (or himself).  Occasionally he remembers (or dreams about) his past, when he was a valiant man of great strength and skill.  And often as the strain of fighting the fish becomes unbearable, he exclaims, “I wish the boy was here.”

And slowly and painfully the story unfolds and the old man finally plays the fish in and kills it with his harpoon.  But because of the size of the fish, he must lash it to the outside of his boat and eventually sharks are drawn to the smell of blood.  The old man fights them off the fish with his harpoon until it is lost, then a makeshift spear, then the gaffe hook and finally a club.  But as his weapons become cruder and less effective the sharks increasingly mutilate his prize until finally all that is left is the head, tail and a naked backbone.  When he reaches home on the morning of the fourth day, he is utterly exhausted and defeated and barely crawls back to his hut to sleep.

That morning the other fishermen are astounded at the colossal size of the carcass and remark to the boy how amazing the fish must have been.  The boy brings coffee to the old man and tells him that despite his father’s order not to fish with the old man he will defy him and bring his luck to the old man’s boat.  So, the story ends with the continuity of life as the torch is passed from the old to the young.  But in this case youth partners with the heroic efforts of the past instead of pushing it out of the way to replace it.

It’s a very strange story and plays out as something of a fairy tale.  Mercifully, the fish never speaks but the old man treats it as if he wouldn’t be surprised if it did.  The old man taught the boy to fish and so they have a mentor/pupil relationship but it appears more like a grandfather/grandson bond between them.  And that is the only major character dynamic going on in the story.

There really isn’t that much to this story.  Most of it takes place in a boat on the water with only one person present.  I really don’t think I could justify why I like this movie that much.  Maybe because I like watching it with Camera Girl.  Her father was an avid salt water fisherman.  And I think the movie is evocative of that connection.  Well, anyway it brightened up our day.

16FEB2025 – OCF Update – Nuts and Bolts

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This is an explanation for the “Test” post today.  I’ve been struggling to eliminate delays in posts showing up on the front page of the site.  There’s a thing called caching that cuts down on the site server’s work and therefore makes the site quicker.  But if it delays updating the site then folks don’t see the new content quickly.  I’m fighting a war to get the cache purge to happen every fifteen minutes.  I may have succeeded but only time will tell.

And now I return you to your regularly scheduled test pattern.