Future Me Realizes His Dreams

When I was a teenager I dreamt of having my own radio station that would broadcast only music I liked. I could preset the playlist and then head out with nothing more than my credit card sized FM tuner. I would be set, for hours.

Years later the future arrived, conveniently brought to us by Apple. The iPod and then my iPhone let me carry days worth of music, video, podcasts, and audiobooks without any commercials. The playlist is completely tailored to me, that is, except for the times I want something that isn't on my iPhone, isn't on my computer at home, and only exists somewhere in the ether.*

This is when I love the iTunes Store for the iPhone, or at least one little part of it. On the iPhone, the iTunes Store accesses the same expansive library of songs as its desktop counterpart. Preview and purchase songs right on the iPhone. And now, with the latest software, you can browse and download podcasts as well.



There's a hidden feature here. Whereas music is limited to 30-second clips for copyright purposes, podcasts are all free; there is no limit on the preview length. So rather than waiting for a podcast to download (after tapping the FREE button), I just tap the title of the podcast and the entire program streams, even at Edge network speeds.

Now, my iPhone can hold a lot of podcasts. But it's nothing compared to the infinite expanse of the internet, which I can now stream, for free, anywhere I go. And if I get bored, I just go hunting among the other million podcasts.

*Yes, I know about Pandora, and I use it on occasion. However, Pandora doesn't let me skip around or play those 3 songs I like over and over.

Southern Sky

We've had two fantastic days of rain here in The Georgia. With clouds overhead, the temperature hasn't dropped. So when the rain stopped the air stayed a breezy 62-degrees. I walked out the back door of my office and snapped this picture of the clouds running from the fading light.



Outstanding colors; Mother Nature's palette wins again.

On the Dam

At mile 48102, I crossed the top of a dam by a still lake. Large enough to spend hours on, small enough to be private, and remote enough to have a road so narrow that you take turns crossing with cars headed the other direction.







Motor.