HinesSight

How to put on a Smith Optics integrated sunglasses leash without going (too) insane

I love my Smith Optics Captain's Choice sunglasses. They're spendy, but I got mine on Amazon for considerably less than list price.

Comfortable. Nicely designed. Polarized. Great color quality (blue sky looks way more intense with them on).

And they come with an integrated sunglasses leash.

"Integrated" means the narrow plastic flexible wire fits into the frame of the sunglasses, so the leash won't come off, and nothing protrudes on the head side of the frame (a drawback of leashes with elastic connections that slip over the end of the frame).

That's the good news. The bad news is that the integrated leash is a bear to install. Not a cute cuddly bear, an angry growling grizzly bear.

At least, that's how I felt after I got my Captain's Choice shades and spent fifteen minutes or so trying to get the leash to lodge in the small grooved hole in the end of the frame. There weren't any real instructions, just a minimalist diagram of where the leash attaches.

Here's what worked for me.

Twice, because today the leash caught on part of a grocery cart while the glasses were dangling from my neck and I was putting something heavy into the cart. When I stood up, the plastic tore. Luckily, my wife had gotten a pair of the same sunglasses and gave her leash to me, because she didn't want to use it.

I wish I'd blogged about installing the leash before, because I just had to recollect my technique for getting it on after buying the sunglasses a few months ago. This time I went less insane, though it took me a while to remember what I'd done before.

I approached the leash installation as if it was a surgical operation. (Believe me, you need some finger dexterity, no matter what technique is used to get the leash on.)

My killer tool is on the left: a wooden something-or-other I found in my wife's Nail Care drawer. It has something to do with cuticles, she told me. The fairly sharp angled ends worked well for me, as I'll describe below. The other items are: (1) the replacement integrated leash, and (2) my Captain's Choice sunglasses.

There's only one way the plastic inserts on the leash go on. That's easy to figure out, since you want the wire on the outside of the frame, and the shape of the insert has to match the shape of the hole in the end of the frame. After getting that straight, the "fun" begins. 

The goal is to get the leash insert to lodge in the groove in the frame hole. Pushing on it doesn't do the trick. At least, not for me. I just found a You Tube video where a guy manages to get the integrated leash on with just his fingers. OK, I'm impressed. It might work for you, but if it doesn't, read on. 

 

What I did is start by pushing the wider part of the plastic leash insert into the hole. That was pretty easy to do, which gets the groove-insertion process rolling. I then used the sharp end of the wooden cuticle thingie to push the groove in the leash insert into the hold, bit by bit, pushing from the outside of the frame. 

I found that turning the glasses upside down helped a bit. The first insert took me a while. Then I must have gotten my groove on, so to speak, because the second insert went in almost immediately. 

I recommend a wooden tool like what I used, because the small screwdriver I used in my first integrated leash installation attempt seemed like it could tear the flexible plastic. Ditto with the tweezers that I briefly tried to use to pull the plastic through the hole. 

Anyway, if this blog post helps one person go only mildly insane when installing a Smith Optics integrated leash, I've done my part for the mental health of humanity. I love the leash, and I love my Captain's Choice sunglasses. It's just the installation process that can be a (grizzly) bear.

I file a BBB complaint about the Oregonian's "premium editions"

Just when I thought the Portland Oregonian couldn't irritate me any further, the newspaper DID! (Since 2013, I only get four print editions a week delivered to my south Salem home, and I don't like the Oregonian's increasingly right-wing editorial positions.)

A few days ago a letter arrived from The Oregonian informing me they'd now be charging my EasyPay account $2.99 for each of four "premium editions" -- the first of which would be a 100 page Investment & Retirement Guide that will be delivered with my September 18 Sunday Oregonian.

Even more irritating: in addition, I'm slated to be charged $4.00 for "the premium Thanksgiving Day edition." So apparently I'm supposed to pay four bucks for all of the Thanksgiving Day newspaper ads that my wife and I dump into the recycling bin without looking at them.

Here's a PDF file of the letter I got:
Download Oregonian letter about premium editions

I've filed a Better Business Bureau complaint, and have sent a link to this blog post to the Home Delivery email address on the August 12 letter, along with a demand that my EasyPay account NOT be charged extra for the so-called "premium editions" that I didn't request, and which have nothing to do with the Oregonian subscription that I signed up for.

This is the gist of my Better Business Bureau complaint: 

TELL US ABOUT YOUR PROBLEM: 
I've received an August 12, 2016 letter from the Oregonian informing me that my EasyPay (automatic deduction from checking account) subscription account will be charged $2.99 for each of up to four "premium editions," the first of which is a 100 page Investment and Retirement Guide that will be delivered on September 18 with my Sunday Oregonian. I have absolutely no interest in paying for this Guide, or the other "premium editions" that are an unwanted and unasked-for add-on to my Oregonian subscription.

The letter also says that my EasyPay account will be charged $4.00 for the premium Thanksgiving Day edition, which sure seems to be the regular ad-filled thick newspaper that I now would have to pay $4.00 extra for, even though my wife and I take out all of the Thanksgiving ads and recycle them without looking at them.

The Oregonian says: "Since the charge is applied to your subscription account balance, it will shorten your paid-through date so that the next charge comes about sooner." So this is an extra charge for (1) non-news material that I don't want and has nothing to do with the Oregonian newspaper that I bought a subscription to, and (2) the Thanksgiving ad-filled newspaper that until now has just been a regular edition of the Oregonian. 

DESIRED RESOLUTION: Billing adjustment

DESIRED OUTCOME: 
I've received an August 12, 2016 letter from the Oregonian informing me that my EasyPay (automatic deduction from checking account) subscription account will be charged $2.99 for each of up to four "premium editions," the first of which is a 100 page Investment and Retirement Guide that will be delivered on September 18 with my Sunday Oregonian. I have absolutely no interest in paying for this Guide, or the other "premium editions" that are an unwanted and unasked-for add-on to my Oregonian subscription.

The letter also says that my EasyPay account will be charged $4.00 for the premium Thanksgiving Day edition, which sure seems to be the regular ad-filled thick newspaper that I now would have to pay $4.00 extra for, even though my wife and I take out all of the Thanksgiving ads and recycle them without looking at them.

The Oregonian says: "Since the charge is applied to your subscription account balance, it will shorten your paid-through date so that the next charge comes about sooner." So this is an extra charge for (1) non-news material that I don't want and has nothing to do with the Oregonian newspaper that I bought a subscription to, and (2) the Thanksgiving ad-filled newspaper that until now has just been a regular edition of the Oregonian. 

If any other Oregonian subscribers decide to file a BBB complaint, here's a tip. The BBB web site had difficulty finding the main office of the Oregonian when I typed in the name of the business I was complaining about. I had to enter the address information manually:

The Oregonian 
1500 SW 1st
Portland, OR  97201

UPDATE: Today, August 29, I got an email reply from the Oregonian's Home Delivery folks. Here's what Linda said.

Thank you for contacting the Oregonian.  

I have simply opted your account out of being charged for the premium issues.   I am sorry if the letter you received did not state that you could simply opt out. A correction was placed in the paper several times about this. You will not be charged for ANY premium issues.  If the carrier delivers this to you in error, please note that your account WILL NOT  be charged.   Due to the nature of your email, did you wish to cancel your subscription? Please call or reply to this email if I can assist you in another way other than opting your account out of being charged for any and all premium issues.

Customer Care
Linda

This was my reply to her.

Linda, the letter I got said that my EasyPay account WILL be charged for the premium editions. It didn’t say I could opt out. Anyway, I do NOT want to cancel my subscription. I just don’t want to be charged for any premium issues. I also don’t want anyone else charged for them either. Thanks for responding. I do have a question: I didn’t see any correction in the Oregonian. What day(s) was this correction published?

         — Brian

Most Oregonians are heat weenies. But not ex-Californian me.

With western Oregon in the midst of a several-day record-breaking heat wave -- temperatures over 100 degrees here in the Willamette Valley -- it's a great time for me to reprise my May 2008 blog post, "'Ooh, it's hot!' Oregonians are heat wussies." 

Days like today, I feel so superior to most of my fellow Oregonians. I grew up in central California, where for much of the year a temperature under 100 degrees is considered a cool day.

So here I am on May 16 in Salem, Oregon – enjoying a record breaking heat wave for this date. The thermometer in my car read "100" when I was downtown this afternoon.

Ooh! Wow! One single freaking day with a three digit temperature and the local news is filled with tips about how to survive.

Hydration. Sunscreen. Wear a hat. Don't exert yourself.

Oregonians are such wussies. Of course, I've lived here myself for 37 years. But those 15 years in California, from age seven to twenty-two, trained me to be a macho man when it comes to a bit of heat.

A few days ago, when the temperature was still in the high 70s, I walked into a Starbucks and ordered my usual nonfat vanilla latte. I never get asked this question, but that day the barista said "Do you want it iced?"

"Good god, no," I told her. "I could be crossing the Sahara Desert and I'd still have my latte hot. It's just wrong to drink it cold."

Probably she'd been making iced drinks all day long for Oregonians who worried about suffering heat exhaustion as they walked a few steps from their air conditioned office or car into the air conditioned Starbucks.

I've been speaking similarly about Oregonians the past few days, but now I prefer the term "heat weenies." Understand: I realize that many people don't have air conditioning, and it can be dangerous for humans or animals to get overheated. 

Still... come on. 

Walking around in 100 degree weather is well within the capability of us furless Homo sapiens. Many people live in places where the temperature is that hot much of the year. They survive just fine, as I did when I lived in the foothills of central California. 

Here's the rest of my 2008 post. 

When I was a boy (ah, how I look forward to my one year old granddaughter getting a bit older, so I can use these words much more frequently), all summer long I'd ride my bike to see my friends in Three Rivers, California.

They weren't down the block. There weren't any blocks in this rural hamlet nestled in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains. I had to pedal miles to get to my best friend's house. Mostly in over 100 degree weather. Up and down those foothills. On a three speed.

No problem. So now I say to heat, "Bring it on. Show me your best stuff."

Today I stood in the sun for a while, waiting for my car to be washed at Car'l B Klean, while inferior Oregonians cowered in the shade under an umbrella. I leaned on a railing, skin blazing, feeling like Leonardo deCaprio in "Titanic."

I'm the (non-wuss) king of the world! On hot days in Oregon, at least.

My shout-out to local Salem businesses who compete with national firms

Until recently, I thought I had to accept the pain-in-the-butt necessity of having my 2011 Mini Cooper S serviced in Portland at the one and only Mini dealership in Oregon.

But now that I've discovered Prestige Auto Repair right here in Salem, specialists in Mini, Mercedes, and BMW cars, I'm overjoyed to know that a drive to Portland isn't necessary to have my Mini serviced or repaired.

This is the review I left several places online:

Chris and the other Prestige Auto guys were wonderfully competent and pleasant. I've been having my 2011 Mini Cooper S serviced at the Mini dealership in Portland, but no longer. Now that I've discovered how much better Prestige Auto Repair is (also, so much closer), this is where my Mini is coming for both routine service and repairs.

They figured out that my air conditioning wasn't working because of a slow freon leak. After adding dye, Chris said I should come back in two weeks for a visual inspection to see if the leak is still there. I found the whole Prestige Auto Repair experience to be way more satisfying than going to a dealer, because with Prestige you are talking with the person who is actually working on the car, not a service advisor.

Plus, dealerships don't have a friendly dog to pat like Prestige does -- another benefit. (This is an option; if you don't like dogs, they can put the dog in a back room.) Plus, plus, the cost of repairing the air conditioning and checking a balky hood latch was decidedly reasonable. I give them 5 stars!

Buying local isn't always possible, car-wise or otherwise. If you want to buy a Tesla, for example, you're going to have to go outside Salem.

Still, outside of these exceptions, this experience helped me realize more strongly the truths Melody Warnick talks about in the "Buy Local" chapter of her wonderful book, This Is Where You Belong: The Art and Science of Loving the Place You Live.

If you spent $25 at a local Salt Lake City retailer, $14 of it stayed in Salt Lake. At a big chain, only $3.50 did. Economists call this the "local multiplier effect," and the most obvious reason for it is that the people making money from an independent business aren't out-of-state megacorporations but entrepreneurs who live (and spend and pay taxes) in the same communities where they work.

If you own a local store, you usually employ more people locally than a comparable chain would, because everyone works in town, not at headquarters -- so a neighbor who's a CPA does the books, not the accounting department in Omaha. 

...One study by a team of Penn State University researchers found that a high density of locally owned small businesses correlates with a higher regional GDP. Importantly for place attachment, it's also more social.

...Milchen told me..."if you're patronizing neighborhood businesses, a lot of those people are likely to live near you. You're likely to become familiar with them by face if not by name, and that's part of what builds a feeling of connection in a community, a feeling of trust and cohesiveness. those casual conversations you have with folks that may not be your best friends are a key part of what creates community fabric."

...Live Local campaigns slowly move the needle on a town's culture by inculcating the idea that our shopping habits are largely responsible for creating the place we live. "It begins with getting people to recognize that every time they spend a dollar, they're in some form casting a vote for the kind of community they want to see, says Jeff Milchen. 

Another local business gem, among many, is Saffron Supply Company in downtown Salem. This hardware store has been in business since 1910. It is to Lowe's as an artisanal cafe is to McDonalds. 

Back in 2004 I wrote a grateful blog post about Saffron Supply, "I'm the king of the world!" That's how I felt about a Saffron guy who took plumbing-challenged moi in hand, leaving me a happy customer when I left with everything I needed to fix a non-draining drain. 

Here's how the post starts off:

King of the world, that’s who I am all right, in my own mind at least (where it counts). For I have replaced a rusted-out leaking drain on our laundry room sink, notwithstanding my normally plumbing-challenged handyman skills. There was something tremendously fulfilling about successfully dismantling the decrepit parts and installing the fresh new parts, adding the dollop of plumber’s putty, tightening the, um, whatever-you-call-its that needed to be tightened, turning on the water, and hearing the water run down the drain with nary a drip.

The list of those I’d like to thank for enabling me to achieve this marvelous accomplishment is short: the great guys at Saffron Supply in downtown Salem, that’s the beginning and end of it. This is the sort of place that can’t be allowed to disappear in the shadow of all the Lowes, Home Depots, and the like. I shamefully admit that I have a fondness for the bright lights, neatly stocked shelves, and cheerful employees at the Lowe’s store here in Salem.

But when you don’t know much about plumbing, and are carrying a plastic bag filled with a bunch of dirty, broken plumbing parts that no longer are plumbing for you, a place like Saffron Supply is where you want to be. It looks like it hasn’t changed much in decades. Wooden bins are filled with mysterious plumbing and electrical parts. When you pay, a pad is pulled out and you get a handwritten paper receipt. No women were in evidence, either staff or customers. I was careful not to wear a batik shirt last Wednesday, knowing that I would be entering the plain denim world of Saffron Supply.

Bottom line: shop at local businesses whenever you can. It'll be more enjoyable, and you'll be contributing much more to Salem's economy.

(Got to add: in case you're wondering why it took me five freaking years to realize that I could have my Mini Cooper serviced here in Salem, a three year/36,000 mile maintenance program was included with the new car purchase in 2011. I assumed that I had to have the servicing done at a Mini dealer. After three years, out of habit I continued to go to Mini of Portland, until I discovered Prestige Auto Service.  When I talked about this with the Prestige folks, they told me that car dealerships try to give people the impression that warranty work and routine maintenance has to be performed by dealers, but actually this isn't true.)