The last word on Matt’s, now Diane’s, iPhone.

After sitting in the snow and slush for two months the only noticeable problem was a quirky keypad. The numbers 4, 5, and 6, when tapped, would register the numbers above or below, unless you hit the center of the desired number and held your finger to the screen. After awhile even that didn’t work. This morning I made an appointment with a genius at the Apple Store in Pelham, N.H., and at 3:40 PM I was greeted by a young woman with straight black hair and a black t-shirt that read, “not all heros wear capes.” I looked at her and thought not all geniuses have hair like Phyllis Diller.

Kristen promptly pulled out an otoscope, one of those things you look into ears with, and peered down the hole I plug my ear bud jack into. She looked up and wagged her forefinger side to side and said, ”Has this phone been wet?” Before I could lie and say, “No, I removed it from it’s original box yesterday,” she said, “Because if it has that voids the warranty, and the little red strip inside this hole suggests it has. Would you like to look?”

Adam alerts me Sunday mornings to worthy reads in the Globe and the online edition of the New York Times. I look forward to his links. This Sunday he asked me if I’d read about Virgin Atlantic’s clubroom at Logan. I hadn’t but promised to have a look inside the Globe Magazine after dinner. As soon as I glanced at the photos I knew to scan the text for reference to his company, Collaborative Lighting. The magazine photos are much clearer and brighter than these scanned pics.

“Pesky Godson of Chicago writes: “I cannot find the words splittist or splittism in my dictionary.”

Once I realized that the sunrise was not at that conjunction but over land, I raced down the beach, but I was too late to see the sun lift off the water. Oh well, there’ll always be another time. The real question is what do I do now that I’m up?

I could take pictures of prints of paintings on the wall of our motel.

We’re back at the Pilgrim Sands in Plymouth. This photo’s from last night and now I’m up waiting for the sunrise hoping for a clear horizon of one the sun can burn off. The above view is northeast from our deck and the overnight guy, who works two jobs, the other in Boston,  tells me the rise occurs over there where that spit of land dies into the ocean. You’ll see.

This morning I checked cnn.com, as I do everyday, and their headline photo showed earthquake damage in St. Louis. Captivated, I read on. The center of the earthquake was 133 miles east of St. Louis. I did the math and wondered why they didn’t say the center’s in Evansville, Indiana or damn close. Christ, why not say the center is twelve hundred miles west of New York City?

I thought this behavior more appropriate for a Californian.

I agree with some of what Louise says about Mark and Ginger’s daughter Molly’s latest play “Travesties,” but if I were writing the review I would have donated more page space to the acting, which to our minds (I’m speaking for Diane too), was extraordinarily good. The best we’ve seen in any of her plays. Combine that level of performance with a script that teases history and demands more focus that my brain has available cells and you’ve got one terrific afternoon . And, again, we had close-up seats in a small theatre. It’s been fun riding Molly’s coattails but after this play she’s moving back to New York.

After the play we ate dinner at Addis Red Sea, an Ethiopian restaurant across the street from the theater.

From the letters to the editor of The New York Times Book Review.
(Travis, please read)

To the Editor:

Pamela Paul’s riveting, ribald and sophisticated review of Mary Roach’s “Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex” (March 30) is accompanied by an intriguing pink portrait of a hypothetical organic molecular entity. Perhaps this molecular banner was meant to represent the pheromonic chemical science behind sex research. If so, with its dozen brazen errors, among them dangling, flaccid atoms, the flagrant partnering of carbons with a harem of five bonds and a menage a trois of oxygens and hydrogens, it was a lesson in aberration. Could it be that this molecule was so captivated by its inclusion in Paul’s review that it wantonly chose to form new, revealing bonding relationships, ones that are simply unheard of in our more staid prudish chemistry?

Alan M Rosan
Madison, J.J.

The writer is a professor of chemistry at Drew University.

To the Editor:

The figure accompanying the review of “Bonk” made me cringe. I’m not sure what its use is, other than to give the article a “scientific” feel. It is the chemical equivalent of stinging together a bunch of English words in random order. Sure, it may look like a paragraph to someone who doesn’t speak English, but for those who do, it is nothing short of atrocious. Please, in the future, have someone with at least a semester of undergraduate chemistry take a look at such figures – any of my students would be able to identify at least two dozen errors in this figure.

Dan Willenbring
Davis, CA.

The writer is a graduate student in the chemistry department at the University of California, Davis.

*****************

I added the editor’s reply to the comments section so you all could have time to ponder what these erudite folks are complaining about.

Adam’s photo from their rental on Bailey Island.

Michael, many of your readers have probably seen the #5 article, about the itinerant island chain San Serriffe with two main islands Upper Caisse and Lower Caisse, but just in case they didn’t (no pun intended, honest – I didn’t catch it until I re-read this), I do think you should publish it or a link or whatever.  It ties in with recent discussions.

Jennifer

As of today, April 1, 2008, Gmail subscribers will be able to pre-date messages, mark as read or unread, and do all those things you forgot to do, like sending late birthday wishes or graduation congratulations on time.  Time is limited! You have only until midnight to take advantage of this free offer.

–rakkity