Creating a Christmas Linux Mint System from Bits and Pieces

[buster]

This build was done four or five years ago and unlike many of my creations, this computer hasn't died yet.

Chapter 1: Spending a Lot of Money in a Sensible Way

The old muscles in the small of my back complained as I carried the heavy box of wine up the steps. Another family Christmas gathering. It will be much easier carrying out a carton of empty bottles after the other eight people quickly drain many of the reds, whites and sparkling. Four of the people are my grand-kids who seemed to have developed, unfortunately, like our son and daughter, an unpleasant habit of drinking grandpa's expensive wines and ignoring the cheap stuff. So now I just fill the carton with expensive wines each year, serve the drinks, and cart out the empties afterwards. And sort of smile.

But the evening was really good, with noise, laughter and arguments. Our son and daughter had both their families around the huge table. The food was amazing. And then we shared a few gifts late Christmas Eve. And that's where the story began.

Our son Eric has access to 'outdated' high tech stuff that usually gets shared by schools and charity groups. That's where the good stuff goes. But sometimes 'the stuff' isn't perfect, but needs be fixed by someone patient and knowledgeable. But it's all top line not quite perfect computer parts and it had to be powerful for the testing it had to do. So under the Christmas tree was a three or four year old Gigabyte motherboard, with ram and an Intel chip with the biggest heat sink and fan I had ever seen! And all for Buster, who quickly calculated what else was needed – I had an old ATX power supply, a very old computer case (19 years and counting), a 500 gig old style hard drive, and some ram to bring this motherboard up to 8 gig. And looking at it as an accountant would, it had only cost me say seven very expensive bottles of wine. Ah well. It had been a great Christmas Eve, and the Marilyn and I got to sleep in the biggest bed in the house, because we're very old.

Chapter 2: Half a Century of Interesting Times

The history that Eric and I share spans more than half a century, some of it wonderful, and some rather the opposite. But lately it's been good. That Christmas Day not long ago he and I were, after a small bottle of Honey Bourbon I'd brought from the south, singing Christmas carols. Just the two of us. He played guitar and I sort of improvised the voice harmony while he sang lead. A presence beside us proved to be his wife who said, not quietly nor politely, nor even with an understanding smile on her face, "Eric, everyone is in bed and would like to go to sleep!" He wisely ignored mentioning the fact that the two singers and the cat were not yet in bed and said with some sternness in his voice, "I'm not sure how many times more I'll be able to sit around with this the old geezer, and tonight is one of those times, even though his singing is atrocious". And he strummed a chord to start the next song. The 'old geezer' didn't bother me at all, but atrocious singer? Still, I was as proud of a son as any father could
be. And the following year she ran off with someone else anyways.

Which leads back to the story of this Christmas, and our usual sampling of interesting music and beverage. My wife Marilyn had gone to bed, partly to let us have our yearly late evening together, and partly because she didn't like the music playing through the speakers - Queen, some Doobie Brothers, and Steely Dan. So we had the empty main floor to ourselves.

This time our son supplied the quite expensive bottle of wine, and after we poured from the bottle of Argentinian malbec we commented very favourably on the aroma and taste, and on Steely Dan. We were as happy as a father and son can be until he said, "Let's see if the motherboard works!" My heart sank a bit. Would my favourite (and only) son give me a gift that is not usable?

He dragged up from his workroom a monitor, some cords and a heavy black box that looked like a prop from a s/f movie. It was almost scary, with countless thickly insulated black wires with connectors at the end. These black wires looked for all the world like tentacles spread out on the table top. Imagine a metal octopus, with long threatening appendages ready to grab your wrist and climb up your arm.  I definitely blame that image on the honey bourbon. I made a short-lived vow never to drink again.

"This power box is of no use for our tests anymore. It doesn't give enough juice to the new CPU's and video cards." I'm guessing gaming CPU's are maybe a wee bit more powerful than my laptop CPU. "And this is what's wrong with the Gigabyte board," he said, pointing. A small bolt and nut had got itself wedged in a hole and refused to be ejected. I was pretty sure I'd find a way to extricate it without damaging anything – an apparently easy problem to solve. Time would tell.

Watching skilled people always amazes me – the ease with which they work. This can be carpenters, comedians, or mathematicians. In what seemed like a nano second, everything was connected and ready to be turned on. When I mentioned the lack of operating system, he made a disapproving face and said, "We're only going to look at the bios."

Of course. What was this old geezer thinking of? His fingers flew over the keyboard and information started showing on the screen that I'd never seen from a bios. And the screen changed before my old brain cells could absorb anything.

"Looks good," he said, with a hint of relief showing on his face. "And you can have the power box." Affection and admiration flowed through me, though that could have been ether Steely Dan or the wine. Or the honey bourbon. Hard to say. But I do think in retrospect it was mainly affection.

"And tomorrow, while Mom is trying to buy boots, we're going to a great discount computer store to take advantage of the Boxing Day sales. SSDs and computer cases are both on sale."

After reminiscing about the previous half century together, drinking more excellent wine, and listening to music, we went to bed. Tomorrow I would add to my stash of stuff to build a great and speedy computer. That, at least, was the plan.

Tomorrow: Chapter 3: Step one in Losing a Wife

[ssfc72]

A nice start to your computer story, Buster.  Thanks for the smiles and chuckles that you gave me, while reading it. :-)

[buster]

Chapter 3: Step one in Losing a Wife

Dropping off Marilyn, buying half a Terabyte SSD (Kingston), a big glass sided computer case, and then losing my wife was not what I planned. The SSD and the case - yes. That was planned. But I had no intention of misplacing my wife, at least not consciously. Very few times in my long life had I misplaced her, but there's always a fourth time I suppose.

I drove first to the shoe store and dropped Marilyn off. We made plans on where I would find her when we returned, and this was narrowed down to a pair of stores that were about a block apart in the busy mall. Then Eric and I took a long drive to a different, much less prosperous neighbourhood in Newmarket. And the problem probably started there.

 Because of the crowd the customers had to be lined up outside the door to limit numbers inside. And it was cold, but still people talked and seemed both happy and excited. Time passed. Too much time. I had a picture in my mind of how Marilyn's eyes would be narrowing as she grew annoyed. The more annoyed, the narrower the eyes. She could never wait patiently.

When inside finally, I went immediately to the checkout, stepped through the waiting line and asked, because there were only a limited number of Kingston SSDs, if I could have one set aside til I had selected my other purchase. He was happy to do this, pulled one out and put a sticker on it that said Buster. You were not allowed even to touch the SSD package until it was paid for. So now on to the computer case. So far perfect.

"Over here Dad. This section has good prices and pretty good quality. I was in here two weeks ago. I've actually worked with some of these cases. Good stuff. And the prices are even better."

We looked at a number of different styles and price ranges. Some cases on sale were very large. Maybe that's why they were on sale for such a good price.

"The large cases are good for old people. Easier for senior citizens to handle. Be good for you dad."

"Eric, when do you start collecting your old age pension?"

The answer to that question as I write this is under seven years. Now, in under two years he will cross that threshold that cannot be uncrossed. He will step over the line that says 'sixty years years old' and when that happens, everyone will know that he is old. I'll have to find out what the name is for someone who has crossed the sixty line but has not graduated yet to geezer-land.

These cases, besides being roomy, had a glass side so you can look at the wiring and parts, and see a little light that shines when the computer is on. I suppose that was the trend back then but I'm not sure why the glass was popular. Then again, after I have finished using it for a computer, it would make a good hamster cage. And it did have screening to let the heat out on the top and front. Perfect for small creatures. The brand name is DeepCool, which seems appropriate. One feature I did like is a bevelled top front on the case with 3 USB slots, as well as connectors for microphone and sound. And there's more stuff like that at the back. I also bought it because it would be easy to work with on account of its geezer-friendly size, and the price was a very important factor.

So we got into the long line which led ultimately to three registers, and I could feel my wife's annoyance even this far from her. I was aware of time passing. The line we stood in was setting a Canadian record for slowness. I imagined she could hardly see out of her extreme squint.

Chapter 4: Looking for Love in all the Wrong Places.

Eric's new partner and my wife have both told me that our son has the same sense of humour as I do, and in fact it's a direct copy. So in theory I shouldn't have been too annoyed at what he was doing, but I was. We had made the purchases, driven back to the mall through heavy traffic, had wandered about searching the two stores Marilyn was supposed to be restricted to, and started to worry about where she was. In theory she could walk back to our son's house, but I have to emphasize the words in theory. Did you notice 'in theory' just got used three times?

I'm not sure she could have found her way if she had left to walk to Eric's house. I had mental images of the police putting out an APB for a very short grey haired lady wearing colours I couldn't remember, and going in a multitude of directions, though not all at the same time of course. Marilyn had led a hike of a few friends in the Ganaraska Forest a number of years previously, and they would still be there if a kind stranger hadn't led them back to the parking lot.

So we visited each store again, and added some others to our search, and when we couldn't find where she was our son hummed 'Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places' and once in awhile bursting out with these words, startling people around us.

'Lookin' for love in too many faces
Searchin' their eyes
Lookin' for traces of what I'm dreaming of '

It pleased me some that strangers were looking at his odd behaviour rather than at mine. Maybe I had passed the torch down to the next generation.

And there she was, in one of the selected stores, smiling her lovely smile, squint-less, and not the least concerned about our lateness. When questioned about where she had been, I found out the mall has a lovely washroom and she had met some very nice people. "We talked about movies and books."

And we went back to have lunch, and as the tension drained, the world seemed a better place.

Tomorrow: Chapter 5: A Tiny, Tiny Lie

[buster]

Chapter 5: A Tiny, Tiny Lie

At lunch the main topic of conversation was promoted and extended by our son's once upon a time wife, and that topic was the silliness and rudeness of Marilyn keeping the two of us waiting and worrying.  There was no love lost between the two women, but the attack at the table was unforgivable. I admit I sometimes spice up the truth a bit to add interest, but now, in this case, I think I was justified in creating and telling a truly pants on fire lie.

"That's not how it happened," I started, getting ready to fabricate a story that would make the whole world feel sad. "I was not eager to explain the plight of Marilyn when we were late arriving for lunch." I looked at the tormentor. "When we arrived at the mall, Marilyn was so worried by our long absence she was in tears. She was worried about what had happened to us." I looked at our son who had calmly assumed an appropriate, sad demeanour. His face was a symbol of sadness. "I told Marilyn there was no reason to worry about how it might look to others, because I was going to cover up the truth. But now I don't care. When we found her she wasn't simply crying. She was crying hard, and soaked my coat when she hugged first me and then your worried husband. And that's bad enough. Don't make her feel worse by telling her she's silly." Our son reached over and gave his Mom's arm a two handed gentle squeeze. She looked at him with thanks in her eyes. Both of them could have had a career on the stage.

The table became a conversation-free zone, which was a huge improvement.

                                              *
Our son and I talked enthusiastically (at least I did)  about my plans for the motherboard, which OS I intended to use, the speakers I could connect it to, and where it would live out its life. I was a bit euphoric with the relief of the wife-hunt being successful. And I was happier when I realized that all the money I'd spent on wine was not totally lost. I'd get $2.40 back for the empties.

And before we went out the door a text came in from Ms Tao: "Happy Christmas. Have surprise to you tomorrow." I can't remember any of her surprises being pleasant. But whatever.

We would drive home with a sense of excitement that was not shared equally. I looked forward to building a new computer and Marilyn didn't get much pleasure out of me building a new computer, even when I explained in detail what I was doing. I suspect sometimes she didn't listen, which indicates intelligence on her part. We both practised the non-listening skill.

But the wine had been really, really good, the food was excellent, the laughter was refreshing, and we all had a good time. And when you age, you begin to realize that our Christmas times together ultimately will end. Enjoy them fully while you can.

Chapter 6: Leaving, Arguing and Driving in the Sun

I knew quickly it was going to be psychologically farther back to Peterborough than usual, because as we reached the highway a voice beside me said, "You two talked nothing but computers all weekend."

A lesson for the newlyweds. Do not point out that this statement isn't true and then proceed to analyze the weekend's various topics. You always say as I did, "I'm sorry dear. I got carried away. I was very excited. But I should have changed the topic." This will go a long way to making the trip back semi-civilized.

But I did add, to even the odds a bit, "And don't forget I lied through my teeth to convey the idea that you weren't a cold, selfish woman who we couldn't find because you were having important conversations with strangers in a washroom."

I may have pushed this a little too far, but I waited calmly. Much of marriage is waiting.

She simply grinned and said, "I have a movie recommendation for both of us, a book you would like, and a different book for me."

We drove peacefully home, stopping only for coffee and muffins at a Tim Horton's in Port Perry. We selected a table in the sun, and managed to strike up a conversation, free of computer talk, with a young couple at the next table who were looking for nearby places to put a canoe in the water in the late spring. They had an ultra-lite canoe on order and were already planning day-trips. Our canoe had been heavy. We envied them. The stop for coffee was a good addition to the drive, and took much longer than we expected, but it didn't really matter. It added something else special to the day.

Just one more comment here. Marilyn is surprisingly clever at manipulating me, especially being a woman no longer in the first blush of womanhood.

                                          *
We were a bit tired when we got home and had finally gotten our luggage and gifts into some sort of order when the door opened and in came E&E.

"You're a bit late," said Emmie, who liked the world to be orderly.

"Do you have any food out?" asked Eddie, who was always hungry. I estimated the age of the twins to be somewhere between eight and ten. But I'm not very good at guessing this sort of thing.

"Doesn't your mom feed you?"

"She said I've had enough to eat. That I'm eating her out of house and home. And then she said 'Go and visit your aunt and uncle. Aunt Mar always has food.' "

Marilyn and I looked at each other. The twins from across the street spent a lot of time at our place. Maybe we should move.

Tomorrow: Chapter 7: A Surprise Gift from Ms Hui Yin Tao

[ssfc72]

The suspense is getting intense. :-)

[buster]

Chapter 7: A Surprise Gift from Ms Hui Yin Tao

The day after Boxing Day, while I was spreading peanut butter on my toast, Marilyn's voice came from the living room. "There's a brown truck in front of our driveway."

Together we looked for awhile through the front window at nothing happening. It reminded me of a meeting I had been sent to while still a teacher, and the unwise presenter had stopped the film to emphasize for some reason a beautiful flower. Nothing else was going on as we looked. I don't remember the purpose of the meeting, or what he said about the flower. It seemed nothing memorable was taking place. I do remember the very best part of his presentation though. The audience came alive when the projector's hot light burned a hole in the film, and on the screen we saw the flower catch fire and disappear. It was awesome.

The UPS sign was clear, but the knowledge that the original English family in Seattle who had started the now massive company over a hundred years ago had children named Ursula, Penelope and Severus has faded with time. The connection to the company name is obvious, though after I explained this, Marilyn made a derogatory noise sort of like a snort. I was somewhat offended. I do think my story is better than the real one. I am finding more and more that my family doesn't believe me as much as they used to. Strangers do. A friend of mine in Port Hope, a friend who doesn't get taken in, told me once I should take advantage of this skill. He said I could have made a lot of money as a pastor.

Finally a man wearing lots of clothes got out of the truck with a package and walked through the dusting of snow from overnight. I opened the front door and the hall temperature dropped to killing levels. He handed me a package a little larger than a shoe box and said 'here', turned quickly and scooted back to the truck which I assumed was warm.

Brilliant repartee this morning with Marilyn's snort and the deliver man's 'here'.

The package had a return address on it. I thought I knew from the text who the sender was, but written in the corner was the name that confirmed it. Hui Yin Tao. This was my Christmas present. And she had put a return address on the front so we now knew where she was living, which we had never known before. This was a surprise for both of us. I couldn't believe how close she was. Why Peterborough? And the address was so easy to remember.

I opened it quickly and found a lovely blue box. Inside was a gorgeous glass flower vase of swirling mixed greens and thin strands of dark blue. It was very beautiful and I would guess very expensive. I grinned, which was a mistake.

"Why are you grinning, and who is it from?"

Remembering the text I confidently said, "It's from your friend Ms Tao."

"My friend?" And she looked at me. "Then why why wasn't my name on the gift box?"

I knew how to handle this. "You know how the people from the far east are mysterious. It's hard to unravel why her affection for you would result in a present for me. We Westerners just don't understand their subtleties." I smiled innocently.

"But being the Westerner that I am, I do recognize, with my life experiences, and my clever mind, I do easily recognize sentences that are obviously horse-poop when I hear them. Is that the best you can do?"

I gave her the vase and said, "Here, I'm sure this is for you. Why would she send me a flower vase?"

Why indeed. I should have examined the vase more carefully before handing it over. And maybe I should have accidentally let it slip and smash on the floor. Built right into the glass was a plaque that said 'For flowers to honour happy memories of repairing old computer together'. 

This refers to the time Ms Tao found an old style hard drive in my junk room. (That was described in Adventures with a 10 Year Old Desktop Trilogy - Book Three). And ever since she has believed that the two of us contributed equally to the improvement of that resurrected machine. But that's not the important part. Marilyn's knowledge of that togetherness in the junk room was not something I had shared. But I understood instantly that Ms Tao had shared, probably on one of those sunny summer days when the two of them had chatted endlessly on the front deck. And a side effect of the presence of the gorgeous Ms Tao on our deck was that our status increased immensely on the street. Many people walked over ostensibly to talk, but mostly to see this exotic creature up close. (The men walking dogs were the most comical, according to Marilyn. They didn't know how to start a conversation, and Ms Tao didn't choose to start anything, letting them stumble and suffer until they went away.)

"Was that the time Ms Tao said to you 'You sometimes very simple, for old person' because you... Just a minute. I wrote something else down. It should be on my dresser."

So I had to face the fact that Ms Tao had told her!

Marilyn came back reading and laughing. "I knew I'd kept it. Here's what she wrote:

"I see Buster in coffee shop when good son buy laptop. He very old and hairy."

Marilyn's mood darkened suddenly. Her eyebrows migrated skyward so high she was in danger of pulling the rest of her face off its moorings. "She was here with you and you never said anything?"

My mind working really frantically was interrupted by Marilyn's sudden laughter.

"Just to be clear, we are talking about the Ms Tao with the red lips you follow as she speaks, the same woman who wears unbelievable skirts that show nothing, but reveal everything as she moves, the woman who may be the most beautiful you have every seen, and you didn't tell me because..." More laughter. "Listen old and hairy man, 'for someone who has been around as long as you have, you have quite a simple mind.' Did she not write or say that?" Her comments and laughing did not make me happy, but at least Marilyn didn't throw things. Thank heaven for small mercies as my mother used to say.

Marilyn it seems is very tolerant, or convinced I couldn't charm even a woman with very bad eyes. The ability to charm seems to be one of those things that I left somewhere years ago, maybe on a park bench.

Tomorrow: Chapter 8: The Recalcitrant Bolt

[buster]

Chapter 8: The Recalcitrant Bolt

"My kingdom for a horse!" I could have yelled. It is a dramatic line in the play, and I faced a dramatic moment. Nothing was worth doing with the computer unless the bolt could be removed. So start with the bolt.

Richard III thought he had it bad. All he ended up doing was dying, and it was a long time ago so it doesn't really matter. But I had a motherboard I couldn't seat because of a tiny bolt. I had thought, optimistically it turned out, simple snips could solve the problem. But a glance at any motherboard shows metal in groves winding all over the surface, and a scrape with snips on any of these metal trails could prove disastrous. I would have risked it if the bolt was not so tight to the surface on both sides.

I tried a variety of tiny screwdrivers, even one for eye glasses. They just made the hole in the top of the bolt smoother and deeper.

The only solution would require nerves of steel, which I had never been famous for. But then as my dad always said, "Faint heart never won the fair maiden."

But first a sandwich, a walk around the block even though it was cold, a sit by the window, and a bit of reading. Delay is the only weapon a coward has sometimes.

                                         *
The laundry room has its share of mess as well as the computer work room, it's just a different type of mess, with different components in the clutter. What useful things it does have are various pieces of scrap wood and many tools not arranged in an orderly manner.

The ski bench has a good solid surface and it has an electrical outlet for running power tools and charging batteries. My first task was to build a platform of short pieces of wood that I could stretch out the patient on before the surgery. I tested the stability of the motherboard on the wood by pressing with fingers and it was solid. Everything looked stable, and the only thing I had to do now was to find my heavy drill, position it above the motherboard, hold if firmly, and lower it in such a way that it didn't rip great gaping holes in this thing of delicacy lying peacefully below the descending danger
.

The bolt had a tiny depression in the top from other people who had used a tiny screwdriver attempting to remove it, fortunately without success or I wouldn't own it now. All I had to do was locate the drill and a tiny drill bit, and work out a method to keep the heavy drill stable and under control. All too soon everything was ready and the challenge was before me. Now or never I supposed. The old pro against this feeble not even usable bolt. My intelligence against its stubbornness. It didn't stand a chance.

                                 *
I pulled the stool over, sat, and confirmed the drill was turning in the right direction, having unhappy memories of having thrown the sliding direction switch in the wrong direction, maybe more than a few times.  I decided wide apart elbows would provide the most reliable body stance so I picked up the drill, and placed my elbows but still felt uncomfortable.

Decidedly awkward.

I brought my elbows closer together and wiggled a bit until they rested solidly on the ski bench, both hands on the heavy portable drill, holding it steadily in the air. Having a new computer or not depended on my having ice in my veins, or some such thing. Putting computers together from less than perfect parts is an unappreciated skill in our society. Just pointing this out.

I put the drill bit in the tiny hole, got comfortable and motionless, and squeezed the trigger ever so slightly. The bolt disintegrated immediately, and fell through. A totally unworthy adversary. A pall of disappointment descended. There had been a 'burrr' of sound from the drill and it was all over. No drama, excitement, or sense of achievement. What was the worry all about?

Still, I lifted the drill, blew on the bit like a cowboy blowing smoke from his six-shooter, and relaxed. All that anxiety for nothing.

Chapter 9: The Gathering of Parts

In every older computer enthusiast's home there is a sacred large plastic container filled with the litter from previous battles with old computers. Spouses must be constantly reminded that this accumulation of parts is not to be thrown out. It is very valuable, we say, though that is not really true at all. In the plastic container will be found power case cords that apparent keep breeding in captivity, mice that sort of work and are used in an emergency, remote mice that have no little pieces that plug into the laptop, as these have been safely stored somewhere now forgotten, audio chords that haven't been used in at least a decade, and speakers that can't be used because they have no electrical amplification and don't work anymore in the modern era. Correction. A bit of sound might come out, so they could be used maybe as the largest earphones on the planet. There are also keyboards that have one key that doesn't function, but that could be used as long as the non-functioning letter isn't an 'e'. I also have a router that generally works.

In the sacred plastic container I found a box about the size of a pizza box that used to have a motherboard in it. What it still had were lovely yellow cables to connect SSDs to motherboards, and various other odds and ends.

But it didn't have a little bag of tiny screws of various sizes that would connect the motherboard to the side of the case. I found two in a cup with the pencils and one behind the old computer desk, but no more. Because these were so necessary and small, they had been carefully stored in a mysterious place, so mysterious that a spell had been cast and I couldn't remember where it was.

I did have a reasonable wire in mouse and keyboard from deceased computers. But I needed to find the little plastic bag. I had the magnetic screwdriver that fits the head of the screws, and these magnetic drivers are in the same category as sliced bread as far as I'm concerned. Don't go to the computer assembly room without one. But I didn't have the little shiny things. Duct Tape wouldn't do this job.

                                            *
Three o'clock in the morning is an odd time to remember where something is. I figure the protective spell over its hiding place became weak at night and didn't keep the location unknowable. Immediately I got quietly out of bed, making sure not to awaken the potential spell caster, and went straight to the bag in my top dresser drawer. It was not far away and it definitely was not in the basement. So I put the bag of screws where I would see it, right beside my toothbrush, went back to bed, and slept soundly. The gathering of parts was complete.

    (And just in time for E&E's visit.)
 
Chapter 10: Recalling how things go together inside the case

[buster]

Chapter 10: Recalling how things go together inside the case

I knew right away the distinct sound of these steps coming down the stairs, first one pair and then another. My sanctuary was being invaded.

"Hi Uncle Bus. This room is a mess." This was spoken by a young female voice.
"Hi Uncle Bus. Whatcha doin?" This was spoken by a young male voice.

I sighed. "Hi E&E. I thought you were helping Aunt Mar."

"Boring," said one or the other, I can't remember which.

"Putting groceries away is useful and necessary. And now that you are almost as tall as your Aunt, you can help."

The voice that hadn't already said boring, said, "Boring."

"Why are you here?"

"Mom sent us over," said Emmie.

I tried to explain. "You know that we're not really related to you. We're not actually your aunt and uncle."

"Wrong," said Eddie. "Mom has explained that on Saturdays she needs some rest, and on Saturdays we are totally related."

I put my head back and looked at the ceiling, noting a small spider. Maybe this arachnid was interested in computers, or maybe she was resting upside down doing spider yoga. It would be awesome to be able to walk across the ceiling. Or just hang there. As a human I mean. I doubt it's interesting to be a spider, spinning webs and having to eat, without even salt and pepper, bugs.  And forget about Ketchup.

Maybe I should have told E&E what's on the ceiling and they would have left and never come back. I rethought that. If they never came back I'd miss them for sure. I'll tell them when they become teenagers. I'll import even more spiders.

"So I'm building a desktop computer from all those parts over there." The parts were spread out over a small table I'd imported from the TV room. "And stay away from all of them unless I send you for something."

"How can you work down here? It's so messy." This was Emmie of course.
"It's kind of dark." This was the rational voice of Eddie.

"First task for Eddie. Go upstairs and get the emergency light below the microwave. Lift it out of its charger and bring it down please. And remember to carry it carefully." This sort of task still pleased him and off he went.

"Emmie, go over there and bring back..." and she went and brought back the Gigabyte motherboard.

"How did you know what to bring back?"

"Well it's the biggest, so it has to go in first." Hard to argue with that. And Eddie came in.

While I watched him enter, and after taking the board from Emmie, I carelessly stuck it in the case and said,"So I'll show you how this goes in." Unfortunately it didn't fit.

Eddie looked at it a moment. "Rotate it 180 degrees. Now it should fit."

"I was just testing to see if you two could figure that out."

There was silence for a bit and finally Emmie said, "I doubt that."

                            *
The next step was pleasant for me. I just had to hold the bright light. They loved using the magnetic screwdriver to carefully lower the screws in and turn until each had a snug fit. They took turns. When I do it I'm always fishing about later for dropped screws. They never dropped one. And so the motherboard was now securely in place.

"That's great," I congratulated. "You two are almost as good as I am."

After a silent pause Emmie said, "We were perfect. The word 'almost' seems wrong to me."

                             *
"The power unit, the big thing that looks like an octopus. That's what goes in next," and I pointed. Eddie went and brought it back. "And bring the bag of screws Emmie. We have to make sure we have enough that fit."

They put them in with nimble fingers to test, and took them out and made a little pile. They had one too many.

Eddie looked at me when I questioned him about the extra. "The extra will be needed if we lose one." And he got a 'you dummy' look on his face. I was a little offended.

So I was relegated to holding the unit in place, they put in the screws, and it was quickly and efficiently done. They made me feel redundant.

                                *
Finding where cables go is always hit and miss for me. It's not as if any of us do this sort of thing each day. But connecting the old hard drive for power and then to the motherboard were skills still somewhere in my brain. Power to the motherboard was straightforward after a think, and the motherboard connection was soon in place. I like that generally if the connectors fit they are in the correct spot, if they don't fit they are in the wrong place. And to finish off the inside work, the new case had some wires already in place that could only fit easily in one spot on the motherboard. They were for the little lights that come on when you turn on the computer, or the red one that flashes during updates. There may have been something else but I don't remember. It seemed to me we were hooked up inside.

(There will be no post on Sunday or Monday. Tuesday the story will continue.)

Chapter 11: Doing the outside connections and finally testing

[Jason]

Dude! I just finished the first two chapters. I was trying to set aside some time to look at it. I see now that you've already posted nine more! Slow down and give a middle-aged guy time before the next installment.

But seriously, I'm enjoying the story thus far. I see that wine is already playing a large role. Is this a foreshadowing or does it reflect what you were doing when you wrote the chapter? I guess I'll find out soon. I'd say keep going but you already have.

I'll proceed when my headspace is clearer. I hate to blase through without being able to appreciate your prose. However, it's already piqued my interest so I'll be on the other chapters soon enough.

[buster]

Chapter 11: Doing the outside connections and finally testing

I put the glass wall on the side of the case and gazed through it at the work we had finished so far.  Maybe I was old fashioned, but I didn't see the point of the transparency. Maybe this is a trend and in the future we'll have transparent toasters and automobiles.

Anyway, having speculated on glass sides, I put the finished product near the monitor.

"Now," I said to the twins, "we have the outside connections to do. One of you bring the mouse, and one the keyboard." When they stood quietly waiting beside me I told them to look at the connector part.
 
"Can you see any slots that might hold those?"

They looked at the top front of the case. Good enough for now I thought.

"There are two black slots and one blue one," said Emmie with a question in her tone. "They look about right."

"Use the black ones. Flip the connector over if you can see it wont fit." And so the keyboard and the mouse were connected.

"Eddie, find the cable that comes from the little TV on the desk. The TV is our monitor."

And he rummaged around behind in some more mess and came up with the cable. I took the cable and showed the end to Emmie and asked her to crawl around behind the case and see if she could find something it might fit in, which she did with alarming speed.

"Eddie, hold the light, and Emmie point with your finger." I leaned over and put the cable in. "Now pick up that blue cable that comes out of the wall and see if you can see the spot it goes."

I guess this was like 'Finding Elmo' to them. Eddie saw the spot after both of them looked for a longer time than they had on the other searches. With this cable I connected the Bell contraption upstairs to the case myself.

"So we'll be connected to the Internet if the computer works, and now there is only the power cable, and I'll do that."

And the Christmas Mint Computer was assembled and connected. Next came the test.

                             *
"I'll get Aunt Mar," and Emmie rushed out of the room and up the stairs.

"Why would we want your Aunt here? It might not work you know."

Eddie assumed a ridiculously pompous pose and said, " No big deal. We learn through our mistakes you know." I wondered who had given him that bit of wisdom, and who was he imitating with the pose?

When the four of us were in position, I asked who should be allowed to start the machine. Both said Aunt Mar immediately. Sadly I had to face that fact that she was always the favourite. I wasn't even considered to be in the running. I was relegated to taking a few pictures while Marilyn, centre stage, standing between E&E, punched the button and smiled, and the screen glowed into life.

The Christmas Computer was alive and well, and I sent some pictures to their Mom's phone, and the kids hugged Marilyn.

Tomorrow: Chapter 12: Cloning in Linux – a work around for the feeble minded

[buster]

Chapter 12: Cloning in Linux – a work around for the feeble minded

Mint has been on a computer in our house for quite a few years. In fact it's the same Mint hard drive that has moved from one dilapidated machine to another dilapidated machine that still manages to function. That particular Mint operating system has on its desktop two shortcuts that connect it to my laptop and to a desktop computer, both running a Windows OS. This was an act of brilliance that I doubt I can replicate, setting up a network not being a skill I practice often. So as the years went by I updated and upgraded the same Mint, not wishing to lose those two precious shortcuts. (Since the sad death of one of those Win10 computers some years after this cloning, I have one shortcut that now goes to nowhere in particular, and I have proved to myself that, in fact, I cannot replicate shortcuts to other Win10 computers from a Linux distro, even when I make a sustained effort. However, the one to the laptop still works perfectly to this very moment.)

                             *
The basement room felt empty, even with all the clutter, and I realized it was because Emmie and Eddie weren't there. Odd that it would feel empty without them, especially considering there was so much junk around me. Even the spider had finished her yoga hanging from the ceiling exercise, but I'm pretty sure I didn't miss her. Not knowing where she was concerned me more.

And anyway, they couldn't help with this and would have gone away saying, first one and then the other, 'boring' But I did miss them, which was a new awareness.

                                     *
The first problem I had to face occurred because cloning this Mint OS to a brand new SSD is not something I do as a regular task, though I have used free software to clone Win10 to an SSD, Macrium Reflect in fact, and it's proved really easy when I used it a couple of times. I do know now, thanks to Bill, that Rescuezilla is a graphical Clonezilla, but I didn't know then. So I used my primitive workaround.

So to replicate what I did, before doing anything else, you should download the latest long term Mint OS from their website, and use USB Stick Formatter and USB Image Writer in Mint, or an equivalent, to put a bootable Live Mint on a USB. Keep this handy. It will be needed later.

Using DD or Clonezilla looked to require a lot of learning and effort, and I thought there might be a sneaky method that would skip the hard parts, and fortunately at about this same time, Fox was extolling his use of Gparted to back up partitions. Maybe I had a solution. And anyway, I was not in danger of losing my original hard drive operating system if it didn't work.

So first I plugged into the new computer my super external hard drive connecting USB gizmo, and then connected my new SSD to the gizmo, and then turned on my new computer with the old hard drive running the old Mint OS. On my screen I could now call up both drives, the old and the new.

Next I opened Gparted, and sang the once popular 'We'll never be parted Gparted' as it appeared on screen. Then I made sure the legacy Mint would fit on the new SSD. It was too long ago for me to remember if I had to adjust partition sizes or delete some data, but if I did I'm pretty sure I would have rebooted after. I may have had to create similar sized partitions on the SSD. This memory is lost with the passage of time, but it may be in one of the other stories. And it would be mind numbing to read about. On completion of this task I wrote down on paper the names of the partitions and my password for user, and the user's name. I was set to go.

And then I clicked the mouse a few times and copied the partitions to the SSD. Someone reading this wants to yell, "But it wont boot!" Shrug. The magic came later.

I replaced the old cloned hard drive with the new SSD and just for fun tried to boot it, which it wouldn't do. And now for the magic, which my notes tell me I had to do twice. (I have never speculated why twice.) I put the bootable USB into the blue front slot on the case. I used keystrokes after I had pressed the power button and using information for this motherboard found earlier on the Internet, got the computer to boot from the USB. Maybe I even did it first time.

So the Mint booted into a live edition of the new Mint OS on the USB, presenting a great Mint operating system running from the wee USB hard drive. From that I clicked an icon that said 'Install'. And magically I installed fairly quickly the brand new Mint to the new SSD, using the new partitions (/, /Home, Swap) written with the exact words used in the original. And the magic is performed by not formatting /Home. So to emphasize, do not format /Home. Because of the lack of formatting, the desktop shortcuts to the Windows computers were not overwritten, as well as other bits of information I had accumulated over the years. So the old Mint has everything refitted, tidied, and replaced without losing passwords and connections, but some of the programs had to be reinstalled, because most of their working parts lived in / and had been washed clean away and new code had been written in place of it.

And on reboot she came to life as gracefully as a newly built ship slides on the greased slip rails into the sea, into what would be the ship's future home.

And so the child of the old Mint OS was destined to live happily ever after in her new home, sort of.

And I did it all without the help of E&E.

Tomorrow: Chapter 13: The new computer gets injured

[buster]

Chapter 13: The new computer gets injured

While the Christmas Mint computer lived happily with her builder for awhile, another event months after she was born meant that Mint was going to move upstairs to live with Marilyn. Her Win10 computer was close to destroyed, and this tale can be read in the story The Really Unpleasant Computer Problem.

The problem meant that the Christmas computer faced danger as well, and again this was with my illogical assistance. Bad computer stuff is contagious. The next two chapters chronicle in painful detail my stupidity, and can be skipped if you have read the story and can remember the details. You might also skip the chapters out of kindness to me. Much of this was previously written three years ago in the Unpleasant Problem story posted earlier.

                                            *
Sometimes we wake up in the morning and know for sure we have the solution, finally, to a problem. It's bad enough that others deceive us. It's ludicrous that humans deceive themselves so often.

Marilyn's zombie box computer had evolved into something really bizarre. When I pressed the start button, it didn't just stare anymore. It began a burst of activity and then went off. When I persuaded it to start again, it had this noticeable burst and then again went off, and then again I received the malicious zombie stare.

But as Baldric would say, 'I have a cunning plan.' Those who watched Black Adder know that his plans never quite worked out. My cunning plan was like Baldric's. It was disastrous.

My plan was simple, some might say simple minded. I had my wife's computer which I assumed had some faulty boot software, or a corrupt and so far unviewable bios. I also had a wonderfully fast, relatively new, Christmas Linux Mint desktop that I had finished building some months before - powerful, smooth, quick. Many new parts. This would be my test machine. This problem would be solved once and for all.

The hard drive from Marilyn's computer would either work or it wouldn't after I put it in the almost new Christmas computer. If it didn't, then it's the hard drive at fault. If it boots beautifully into Windows, it's the bios in the zombie machine. However the universe isn't yes/no, 0/1, black/white all the time. Sometimes things are more complex than we imagine. This is one of those cases.

So with some excitement I took out the new SSD from the spanking brand new computer I had built and set it on a clear spot on the desk. Replacing it with the maybe faulty older style hard drive from the bewitched computer was not hard, but tedious. And little did I realize the orcs were creeping up on the house, waiting to attack. So after getting the old drive in place and ready to boot, I congratulated myself on figuring out a way to get this job done. I leaned back, admired my thought processes, and got ready to press the start button.

And coincidentally footsteps sounded on the stairs and soon Emmie came into the room. I could hear Eddie behind her. Still, I pressed the start button.

What happened next is akin to the time I stood up after picking something off the kitchen floor and introduced the top of my head to the bottom of the cupboard door I had left open. In both cases I was totally shocked, as is easy to imagine.

My lovely new machine was starting, going off, starting again, going off all on its own, and repeating.

"You're breaking it!' yelled Emmie.

Her brother entered the room and asked her what the screaming was about, and her answer was a combination of sight and sound. She made fists with her hands, jammed them into her hips, leaned towards me and said, "You've broken our computer!" I did note that somehow the ownership of the Christmas computer was now in dispute.

I held the power button down until the computer was silent. So the only problem I had was on the old hard drive. In retrospect I wonder how many times it's possible to be wrong during a computer repair.

I would go to bed that night thinking I understood the problem. I didn't realize my lovely, innocent new Linux Mint computer had been left alone in the junk room with orcs hiding in the shadows.

I sent E&E home and left the problem until tomorrow.

Tomorrow: Chapter 14: The Christmas Computer gets attacked again

[buster]

Chapter 14: The Christmas Computer gets attacked again

Humans simplify the complexities of the universe in an attempt to understand it. We see what we want to, and what we are capable of absorbing. It's the same with understanding computers. What happened the following morning is beyond my ken, and I really don't want to investigate it too closely. I do know it involves Cyclops of the staring eye, the orcs hiding behind the boxes in the junk room, and the vulnerability of new computers. The presence of malicious forces is obvious, no matter what the rationalists say.

I reinstalled the Mint SSD into the new computer and, just to make sure it was OK, I pressed the start button.

It was like standing up again under a second open cupboard door in the kitchen.

The new computer started to boot nicely, everything looked normal, when suddenly it shutdown and rebooted. Odd, but not too frightening, because it rebooted smoothly again. The door hit my head when   it interrupted and rebooted again, and again, and again. The bios was corrupted! 'Sadness descended' is the easiest way to describe how I felt, borrowing a phrase Ms Tao might utter.

In the old radio shows and movies, when things looked really bad like this, the Cisco Kid, the Lone Ranger, or Roy Rogers would ride down out of the hills and save the day (with of course Poncho, Tonto, or Dale Evans).  And out of nowhere, at the critical moment, a hero did arrive, and I not only have never seen a hero like this, I've never even heard of her.

So, completely unaware that she was riding bravely to my rescue, I watched dumbfoundedly as my brand new computer build went on and off. I guess I was in mild shock, grieving the loss of my new pride and joy. The orcs behind the dusty boxes were probably celebrating, however orcs might do that.

With swashbuckling panache, the computer screen lit up with a message, as if this is an everyday occurrence for a modern motherboard: 'Would you like Gigabyte to install the backup bios?' It took me a bit of time to react.

I checked this on the laptop upstairs, and found out that yes, a Gigabyte motherboard does this if needed. Back downstairs the message was still on the screen. Keyboard work manoeuvred the cursor to where 'enter' would activate the 'yes' answer. One click returned the computer quickly to normal, almost, and the Mint install could expect, in Operating System terms, a full and healthy life. I didn't feel unbridled joy. Mostly I just felt exhaustion, and relief.

There were scars from this battle that have never fully healed, but nothing serious. Multi deep dives into the bios by me have never resulted in the reinstatement of all the USB ports. But there are so many, the computer and I do manage very well anyway.

                              *
The next day the twins came back and found out that the computer was fixed, and were curious to know how I did that. I told them I didn't do anything. The computer just got bored going on and off and decided to behave.

Eddy didn't care one way or another what had happened to repair it, but Emmie got a quiet look on her face, looked at me, and gradually her eye lids started to narrow into a squint. Was Marilyn giving her lessons? Were the two of them maybe secretly related?  What was she planning on saying or doing?

She looked off into the distance and gradually her features relaxed. She was accepting this explanation, thinking maybe that computers have a thinking core in the form of a CPU. Or who can know why she accepted this. But she apparently thought the computer had got bored so changed its behaviour. I don't think her brother even thought about it.

I have always wondered what their mother said when given this explanation by the two of them. I'm sure she enlightened them with unkind words about me and my dishonesty. Maybe she even squinted harshly as she said them.

I knew that some day Emmie would retaliate. And she did. It wasn't very embarrassing when it happened. But it can't be described as enjoyable either. It did seem to be a great deal of fun though for the twins. They laughed a lot.

And that scary moment with the Christmas computer, and its rescue, had taken Marilyn's unpleasant computer problem no closer to resolution. It was still a wreck. But that was described in the other story. And that was not the Christmas Computer. The Christmas Computer was doing well, and would soon get a promotion.

Tomorrow, the final chapter: Chapter 15: Why Marilyn now has my Christmas Computer.

[buster]

Chapter 15: Why Marilyn now has my Christmas Computer.

'A happy wife means a happy life' is a well known truism. It is sometimes misinterpreted. Some people assume it states a husband always has to give in to his wife. No wife would like a feeble husband like that. The trick is simple. Keep your wife happy, and sometimes that means only a very ordinary thing, like giving her a nice looking new computer that works really well, and has the best and newest mouse and keyboard in the house. And that is what happened here.

Marilyn's first computers 20 years ago ran Linux, and I always set them up so they pretty well looked the same as I migrated from distro to a newer, better distro. If possible I even used the same software. She booted always into a lovely picture for wallpaper. And when she used Windows, the desktop again looked pretty much the same. I had the same mail program and browser on Windows, and sometimes even mailed from Linux to Windows the previously used wallpaper.   In this particular case, she didn't mind switching back to Linux because the case, keyboard and mouse looked new, and felt new, so in her mind had to be better. Poor, unfortunate Buster had to put up with her discard which had a fast CPU and much more ram. In fact it had 12 gig of ram. But I suffered in silence.

This Win10 computer I had acquired from Marilyn did require delicate handling however, because it couldn't reboot unless you were crafty. And still within it resided the one eyed Oscar who was not really intentionally evil, no matter what others may think. He simply wanted attention.

So I had no choice except to give Marilyn the Christmas Computer, and take the other computer, home of Oscar, to live in the downstairs computer room with me. As noted in the other story, ultimately Oscar's computer died, but it took quite awhile. In retrospect, the three of us, the injured computer, Buster, and Oscar, spent a few good years together, and she was a great little machine. While not best buddies, the three of us accepted each other's limitations and got along just fine. I miss the computer, and suspect Oscar is comfortably sleeping somewhere in the house, ready to do mischief with another computer when he wakes up. I haven't seen him again since the computer died. I miss him but don't want him back.

This story has a happy computer ending, which is an improvement over some of my other tales. The Christmas Computer has a sunny room to live in. She gets automatic updates so is not much work. All the software functions properly, and the fan is silent. She can see and exchange data with the laptop because of the saved desktop shortcut. Marilyn is generally pleased with her. And I do get to use her Christmas Mint Computer, and I even play Tux Racer on cloudy dull days. If I'm really bored, I can look through the glass side of the Christmas Computer and see all the parts. But I have to be really bored to want to do this. And this doesn't happened very often because I usually don't get bored even doing absolutely nothing. Most of us, I think, get bored when having to do something we don't want to do. That's what bores me. Doing nothing is generally kind of pleasant.

                                           *
An interesting note arrived a while ago from Cynthia Softbottom, a persistent and affectionate correspondent over the years. (Some may remember her from a previous story.) She wrote this after she read the first five chapters of this particular tale. Her note was definitely was not as welcoming as others had been in the past.

"From earlier stories I did not understand how devoted you are to your wife. I think you should have mentioned this before I embarrassed myself the way I did. That was very ungentlemanly of you."

Marilyn handled the reply: 'Hi Cynthia. He is not so much devoted as indebted. The two of us know there is not another woman in Ontario who would put up with him for more than a week. So I let him stay, and he puts up with my minuscule flaws. It would please me if you would just bugger off. Yours Truly etc.'

                                  *
And special thanks to my son Eric whose gifts made the Christmas Computer possible, and a thanks to him for all the 'junk' computer parts he started giving me over a quarter century ago. Because of these gifts I have managed to learn how to refurbish computers rather than to buy them. And back in the old days, when some of it truly was junk, I experimentally mixed these discards with other bits of suitable odds and ends,  and sometimes a friendly little computer emerged. Great times.

[ssfc72]

A happy ending, story. Thanks Buster. :-)