Throughout my infancy, I suffered repeated ear infections, ear aches and tonsillitis. I spent a lot of time on penicillin. Like a worrying amount. So much so that when I was 2 my ENT doc informed my parents that I needed a tonsil & adenoidectomy, bc they were killing me. If I had lived at any other time, I would not have made it out of childhood. I am forever grateful to antibiotics and vaccines.
For those of you with android devices, you can use the Android Debug Bridge (ADB) standalone app control program to get rid of all the bloatware, data mining, and AI crap - no coding needed!
There are also Android-based alternatives like GrapheneOS and LineageOS, which are pretty easy to install. These are unfortunately available for a more limited range of devices (Graphene is ironically Pixel only, while Lineage supports more), but it's very worth checking out whether one of them might work for your phone.
GrapheneOS is a security and privacy focused mobile OS with Android app compatibility.
LineageOS Android Distribution
Typing this from Graphene now, in fact. But, both of those take the Android Open Source Project, without all the bloatware--and largely de-Google the whole thing. They give you much more control over privacy and what the apps you choose to install can do and access on your phone.
I know Graphene sandboxes everything, including the optionally installed Google Play Services which a lot of apps unfortunately require to run. (Lineage uses an alternative to Play Services instead.) So, you can install what would normally be unacceptably intrusive apps and just lock them away from pulling any funny shit with your data, or phoning home. Including the couple of Google things I do still keep around.
I also prefer running much more transparent, privacy-respecting open source apps where possible. Besides the transparency, I'd rather avoid the shitty tech corps entirely where I can. There are pretty good alternatives available for a lot of the usual suspects.
AlternativeTo lets you find apps and software for Windows, Mac, Linux, iPhone, iPad, Android, Android Tablets, Web Apps, Online, Windows Tab
An alternative app store:
F-Droid is an installable catalogue of FOSS (Free and Open Source Software) applications for the Android platform. The client makes it easy
This is an alternative take on the time post Lucy's death. I have read and enjoyed many fics that have Jeff throw himself into his work after the death of his wife. And I will continue to love this take. But what if the need to keep busy hit Jeff a little differently?
❤️
Ao3
The days had blurred into one interminably long one. His eyes were full of grit, his ears ringing with a continuous high buzz, but what did that matter. There were things that needed doing, and it made it easier if he broke them down to individual tasks. Clean bottles, make lunches, rouse the kids, gather laundry, fold laundry, do the dishes, had to look after their boys.
It hurt, every time he looked at them, the pressure in his chest, his beautiful boys, that last connection to his beloved wife. They were his world and he would do everything to keep them safe. They needed consistency and a loving home, and he Would provide that. He could do that. He just needed to make sure they had everything they needed. He could do that.
Juggling Alan on his hip he dragged clean laundry into a basket. Stashing sandwiches into school satchels and dragging a comb through unruly locks. Emails got picked at between diaper changes, meals prep, grocery runs. Video calls were abandoned in favour of rocking Alan to sleep for his afternoon nap. The bedtime routine took three hours with extended bath time because Jeff just couldn’t cut short Gordon’s fun. Bedtime stories were read until his voice cracked. Requests for a glass of water, one more plushie, the light in the hall to be left on? Jeff would sort it. His evenings were filled with folding laundry, emptying school bags, finishing those emails he had started at 6am. He would lay down to rest, but sleep wouldn’t come.
Jeff would wake, with harsh drawn breath, in the middle of the night, to scribble notes on whatever scraps of paper were to hand. The guilt at writing across a school report revisited him regularly.
There was no point, he could be doing something else more worthwhile. Chasing away nightmare monsters, changing bedding after nighttime accidents. Soon the morning light would bleed in, and Jeff could try and get a couple of hours of work done before the morning school run began. So many times that work would be done with Alan curled up on Jeff’s lap. His steady breathing bringing mutual comfort to both parties. His hand would stall in its typing, drawn like a magnet to the downy soft head, “hush little one”.
They would find him there still, his older boys, when they emerged in search of breakfast. Jeff would blink away the gritty sleep from his eyes, wondering how it could even exist when sleep itself had been so elusive. Then it was on with the day, snatched naps, business calls, after school clubs, meals for all. If he just kept moving, then there was no time for doubt.
Scott tiptoed down the stairs, a little earlier than usual, almost not surprised when he found his dad tucked in the big armchair with baby Alan in his arms. Jeff had his head tipped back in a light doze, one had still patting Alans back on auto pilot.
The baby of the family had been particularly clingy ever since…., well, it wasn’t exactly surprising. He would only settle on their father, who would walk miles in circles around the kitchen and lounge seemingly lost in his own thoughts.
Despite all the upheaval, their father had worked himself to the bone keeping as much normality for the motherless family. After school pick up? Jeff was there, home later due to sports practice, Jeff knew, and had a plate of food ready as you walked in the door. 4 bagged lunches were ready each morning, with each kids preferences catered for.
Not that Scott wasn’t grateful, but it was ridiculous. Scott hadn’t been picked up at the school gates in years. Lunches had been one size fits all, or sort yourself out ever since he went to high school. And that had been fine. Why Jeff now felt the need to out perform the stay at home mom stereotype was a mystery. Well, it wasn’t really, Scott could see that their father was just trying to be the best mom/dad possible, it was coming from a place of love. But even Scott could see that it wasn’t sustainable. Their father was trying to be breadwinner, business owner and homemaker extraordinaire all rolled into one. There was no way he could keep this up.
Unread emails flashed from every device Jeff picked up and abandoned around the house. Excess groceries stacked up outside the larder. Clothes got cooked in the over packed dryer. The biggest give away, though, was the physical state Jeff was in. Each child left the house in freshly pressed clothes (Scott had never seen a pair of jeans with a center crease before.) Jeff, though, was living in a tight cycle of the same worn sweat pants. The bags under his eyes had got to the point that even oblivious young teenagers could notice them.
Scott decided it was time for action. Just like his father, Scott's go to solution was usually to throw himself into the problem. That hadn’t been such an instant fix though. The first time Scott had tried to take Alan out of Jeff's arms and help with the bedtime kitchen circuits, Alan had screamed loud enough that everyone had feared for the structural stability of the old beams above their heads. Alan was not having it, he would only be settled by his Dad.
Scott was able to have a little more success helping with the cooking if he was quick enough. On a few occasions Scott rattled through meal preparation only for Jeff to pull out a pre-prepared dish out of the oven, but in a family of five boys nobody ever complained about an extra dish.
John was set to the challenge of doctoring the shopping list, always stuck to the front of the fridge, to adjust the quantities and plotted meals to best utilize what items they had or use up excess from one meal to the next. He saw it like the logic puzzle it was, and quickly found a pattern that worked for the family. They were never quite sure if Jeff noticed the adjustments, he bought what was on the list and that was fine.
Scott set Virgil to laundry duty, and if he was quick enough Virgil was able to drag loads in and out of the machines before and after school, thereby controlling the flow of clean clothes. By cross referencing the family planner on the wall, he mostly kept ahead of the kit requirements for different classes and afterschool commitments. They found that as long as the washing machine was on and the dryer was turning, Jeff seemed satisfied. Probably assuming that he had just forgotten loading it. Scott, John and Virgil set to scooping up clean dry clothes and flinging it into piles on each boys bed before Jeff had a chance to try and impose military creases onto their clothes, thereby removing another job. Sure some times the piles got mixed, but usually they just swapped clothes about until it got to the right owner. Well, everyone apart from Gordon, who assumed anything on his pile was his regardless of appropriateness. He did look adorable in a full button up shirt even if the arms were pushed so far up to allow Gordon's fingers to peek out of the cuffs that it created full puffed sleeves.
Jeff didn’t seem to notice that they didn’t have many white clothes anymore, or that the kids seemed to be favoring grey and light pink more than they had before. At least they were clean.
Panic ran through all the boys the day Jeff threatened to give them all home haircuts. A bit of rapid problem solving and the boys deployed the only weapon in their arsenal, a teething grouchy baby who couldn’t find his favorite plushie (Scott would feel bad about that for years to come). Jeff was immobilised with clingy offspring, and the bangs got to live for another day! If Scott just happened to have a free period the following afternoon and used it to meet all of his siblings after school and make sure they went home via the barber shop rather than the library, well, they just hoped that no adults would look too closely at that, it was an emergency.
Despite all of their fixes, the boys were still struggling to help with one final load. The rapidly growing youngest brother who still refused to be settled by anyone other than Jeff, which consequently meant that Jeff was consistently running on less than 4 hours of broken sleep.
Scott turned the problem over and over in his mind, there had to be a way that they could offer their Dad some kind of break, without leaving the little dude completely distraught. They had tried bribery with soft toys. Alan had simply clung to them and Jeff, the boy had an impressively strong grip. They tried giving him an extra big drink of warm milk, praying he would be so knocked out by the soporific qualities that they could just peel him off their father and put him to sleep in his cot. Alan had nearly been convinced to have a nap whilst Scott was curled up next to him. Little eyes had started to drift, but when his pudgy little face had gone to snuffle into Scott's shirt, one sticky paw locked into the fabric, his eyes had snapped open again and all thoughts of nap were gone to be replaced by howling.
It was enough for John to suggest a slight adaptation before trying again. Next weekend Scott offered to take Alan while Jeff was trying to fix Gordon's bike. A task that would have been a lot easier without an armfull of baby Alan. “He’s probably going to need a nap in a little while, I’ll be back inside in a few!” Jeff called after his retreating sons. Gordon pulled his Dad’s attention back to the problem at hand by being quite literally the problem at hand and wedging a stick through the rear spokes with a joyful “HI-YA!” Scott made his escape.
Back in the house Virgil handed Scott one of their fathers shirts, scavenged from the laundry pile. John doused Scott with a heavy handed splosh of their Dads aftershave and then had to excuse himself to wash the excess off his own hands, wrinkling his nose at the onslaught. Virgil fetched the warmed bottle that Scott had already prepared, a little fuller than Jeff may have carefully measured out. It was the work of a few moments to have the oldest and youngest tucked up on a couch with plenty of cushions.
Bottle of milk deployed, baby burped and the heavy blinks were coming in thick and fast. Virgil and John looked on, hardly daring to breathe in case they broke the spell. A sleepy little yawn and then Alan was gone, no hint of a fuss, no sudden start and scream of betrayal, 10 minutes later and the older brothers finally felt confident enough to try phase two of the plan.
The old family moses basket had been dragged out of the foot of Gordon's bed, where it has been holding Gordon’s plushy collection for the last few years. It had been deemed a bit past it by the time the fifth baby came along, that, and neither parent had wanted to try and part Gordon from it, who was rather attached. Little did they know that Gordon would be quite amenable to handing over the basket if the right leverage was applied. In this instance, John had repurposed a large cardboard box that had been flat packed in the garage and he and Virgil had cut holes in it and crudely painted it so it looked like a submarine. Sure it still had the branding for the previous purchase running along one side, and the “this way up” arrows. But there was a porthole, so Gordon was sold. The only problem now was that Gordon was determined to sleep in the box and had tried to make a mattress in the bottom of the box out of soft toys and blankets. That was a problem for actual bedtime, right now they were just trying to get through naptime without their father wearing a groove in the kitchen floor.
For phase two deployment, Virgil pulled out another item of Jeff's clothing, this time a sweater. John refused to do the cologne this time, so Virgil just scrubbed at Scott's neck with the sweater, despite Scott trying to bat him away with his one free hand. Virgil then removed a hot water bottle from the basket, checked the resulting temperature before neatly arranging the sweater in the pre-warmed moses basket and with incredible care. Next, with the kind of precision movements more usually seen during brain surgery, the three boys carefully shifted their baby brother into the basket. Scott sat for a few minutes after the relocation, his hand resting lightly on Alan's back, just to be sure he was still settled, before slowly inching away on tiptoes. All three older boys sat in the doorway, watching the sleeping baby for the rest of his naptime, partly to form a physical barrier should Jeff or Gordon try to come this way, and partly so they could continue to watch over the sleeping form. They were all a little shocked that their plan appeared to be working, they didn’t want to jinx it by breathing a single word, it would be sure to break the spell.
When Jeff came hurrying in a few minutes later he nearly fell bodily over his three eldest sat in the doorway to the lounge. He caught himself on the door frame before Scott was on his feet and hustling Jeff out of the room.
Jeff found himself shoved, a little forcefully into sitting on the old rocker on the porch. John had swept up a giggling Gordon and hurried him out into the back yard. Virgil had shuffled on his bum until he was sat on the floor next to the moses basket, holding a serious faced vigil.
“What’s going on?” Jeff asked, only to be shushed by his eldest. “Look if theres something you want to talk about, I’m all ears, but can we do it while I get Alan down for his nap, otherwise he’s going to be cranky.”
“No need Dad,” Scott beamed.
“Come again?” Jeff tried to get to his feed, but was shoved back down and this time a blanket was deployed to pin him in.
“Alan is napping, and now you should be too!” Scott was far too please with himself, but then his face took a more serious expression. “Dad, we know how much you do for us, but you’re gonna burn out, you don’t have to do everything at once, we’ve got this!”
Burn out? It felt so strange for such grown up phrases to be coming out of his oldest babies mouth, because they would all always be his babies no matter how big they got.
“Scott, I’m your father, it’s my job to look after you.” he tried to get up again, but then Scott deployed a look that was just every inch Lucy, and the energy drained from Jeff’s limbs.
“ and you do Dad, but like I said, you don’t need to do it all at once. We can help,we want to help, Mom would have made us help.” the last bit was said quietly, but still with just as much feeling.
It gave Jeff reason enough to pause. Scott was right, Lucy had always believed in the whole family pulling together, she wanted her boys to be capable and independent, and Jeff agreed. Just, what with everything that had happened, Jeff had plastered over any cracks with manic productivity, as if he could push grief away with ….with busy work. Lucy had called him out on it enough times. When Jeff was stressed, he found things to do. When they had been expecting Scotty, Jeff had repainted every room in the house. He worked well under pressure, it was what had got him where he was today. Hell, the early plans for what would be come Tracy Industries had been hashed out on a space flight that had gone slightly off plan and required several “Jeff Tracy fixes” and a helluva lot of duct tape to get them home in one piece. But he had never had to run on that adrenaline for quite so long, and it was taking its toll. What could he do though? His boys needed him, and he would always put them first. He opened his mouth to protest, but Scott had raised an eyebrow in just a way to cut through all the arguments, so like his mother, that Jeff had to bite his lip and blink more rapidly.
“Dad, please rest, Alan is fine. We’re tough, we’re Tracys”
“But you shouldn’t have to be tough,” Jeff sniffed, trying to keep his voice level and hopefully with a little authority in it.
“Can’t help that! It's in our genetics!” and with that, Scott shot his father a massive grin, clearly pleased with himself, and turned on his heels sharply, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Jeff was too confused to know what to do with that, the lack of sleep may have played a part in his slow processing speed, Jeff was self aware enough to admit that to himself. Peeling the tightly tucked blanket off himself, he crept to the the front window that allowed him a view into the lounge. True enough, there was Alan, tucked up contentedly in the old slightly holey baby basket, snoozing contentedly….was that Jeff best pullover?! He sighed, it was probably a fair price to pay to get out of pacing the kitchen floor for the next hour. He let himself slide down until his bum hit the porch decking. The sun was warm through the patchy clouds and softly dappled through the old tree on the front lawn. It was enough, and soon Jeffs head was leaning back against the house cladding, and his snores were adding to the white noise lulling his youngest son into a deeper sleep.
Occasionally the sound scape was punctuated by a squeal from Gordon who John was spraying with the hose out back, the theory being it would tire the youngster out and maybe reduce how long bath time took later.
(spoiler - it didn’t work, Gordon managed to wrangle a two hour bath, through the liberal application of adorable gap toothed grins and old fashioned bargaining prowess. Jeff, recharged a little from his nap, and handing responsibility of Alan's bedtime story to Scott, was content to just soak up every bit of joy that he could from Gordon's evident love of the water - or at least the bath bubbles.)
Squeaking this in under the Wednesday wire here in the Netherlands, but it still counts! (lol)
I'm feeling a little stymied and am trying to jump start my writing again. I hoping posting this snippet will help.
Enjoy!
Gordon smirked at Virgil. “Are you having another Kip Harris moment?”
Rebecca looked at him in confusion. “Hmm?”
“Gordon!... Ignore him.”
She shook her head. “What? No.” Turning to Gordon she asked, “What about Kip Harris?”
Virgil frowned mightily at Gordon; but he was impervious to his older brother’s death glare.
Gordon grinned at Rebecca and opened his mouth to speak, but John cut him off. “Gordon.”
“What? It’s a good story. She’ll appreciate it.”
Across the table, Kayo looked at her two brothers seated on either side of Rebecca.
John looked dubious. Virgil looked murderous.
Poor Virgil.
He seemed to really like Rebecca, and was trying so hard to impress her. Kayo didn’t think he needed to, but Virgil could sometimes be oblivious to how much people liked him in return.
She struggled to contain a grin and hoped Rebecca did appreciate it, because telling this story might be the last thing Gordon ever did.
Sometimes the well of creativity runs dry, leaving you staring at a blank page with nothing but frustration. But trust that the art of writing is as much about the journey as it is about the destination. Here are some ideas to help you reconnect with your writing practice when you feel like your passion has dimmed.
Redefine Your Environment
Consider taking a deliberate step outside your usual writing space. The environment in which you work can drastically affect your mindset and creative flow. Even if it’s setting up in a different corner of your home, finding refuge in a local café, or enjoying the subtle distractions of a park bench, a change in scenery often signals a mental reset. This isn’t about permanent relocation, just a simple shift can break the monotony and stir new ideas that have been hiding in plain sight.
Embrace Imperfection
The pressure to produce perfect prose can be paralyzing. Give yourself permission to create something imperfect yet honest. Think of every sentence you write as a rough sketch, a necessary experiment in understanding your own voice. When you allow yourself the space to write without the weight of perfection, you invite experimentation and genuine self-expression. That freedom lies at the heart of rediscovering why you fell in love with writing in the first place.
Set Incremental Goals for Continuous Momentum
When the idea of diving into a full chapter feels overwhelming, scale back to manageable, bite-sized projects that feel achievable. Instead of demanding a polished page, challenge yourself to write a paragraph or even a single sentence each day. These micro-goals build a foundation of small successes, gradually restoring confidence and momentum. Over time, these consistent efforts enrich your creative reservoir, proving that every little step is indeed a victory.
Engage Deeply in the Process of Freewriting
Allow yourself to spill thoughts onto the page without judgment or expectation. Freewriting is an exercise in vulnerability and self-exploration, offering you a space to unburden tangled ideas and unexpected insights. In these unfiltered moments, you might stumble upon a germ of an idea or a rediscovered passion that rekindles your creative fire. Embracing this unstructured approach can transform an intimidating blank page into an open canvas of potential you haven't tapped back into.
Rekindle Old Inspirations
There is power in revisiting the work and moments that first ignited your creative spirit. Even if it’s rereading an old journal entry, rediscovering a favorite piece of literature, or reflecting on the stories that once moved you, reconnecting with your past inspirations can shed new light on your present creative journey. This reflective practice not only reminds you of your original passion but may also reveal new directions for your current writing endeavors.
Create a Consistent, Loving Writing Routine
Creating a structured yet gentle routine can help reestablish your relationship with writing. Treat your writing time as a vital appointment, a moment carved out just for you. Even if inspiration seems scarce, the simple act of sitting down, opening your notebook, and letting words flow without self-censorship can be incredibly healing. Over time, this practice transforms writing from an obligation into a ritual of self-discovery and mindfulness.
Connect with a Community That Understands
Engaging with fellow writers can remind you that you’re not alone in this struggle. The shared experience of creative highs and lows can be profoundly comforting. Join writing groups, participate in online forums, or simply reach out to someone whose work inspires you. These interactions foster a sense of belonging and accountability, encouraging you to keep writing even when the path isn’t clear. In the gentle exchange of ideas and feedback, there is often a spark that reignites your dedication.
Every writer’s journey is unique, filled with ebbs and flows. If you’re feeling disconnected, know that these moments are integral to growth. Embrace each phase as an opportunity to rediscover writing on its own terms, and allow your passion to guide you back into the words you love. If you need any advice from me, never be afraid to send me an ask.
Until next time,
Rin T.
1544 members, 894 posts about #creative writing #creative writers #helping writers • Guiding Writers to New Heights
If you want to push it back even further Margaret Cavendish, the duchess of Newcastle (1623-1673) wrote The Blazing World in 1666, about a young woman who discovers a Utopian world that can only be accessed via the North Pole - oft credited as one of the first scifi novels
Women have always been at the forefront of literature, the first novel (what we would consider a novel in modern terms) was written by a woman (Lady Muraskai’s the Tale of Genji in the early 1000s) take your snide “Isaac Asimov” reblogs and stick it
even in terms of male scifi authors, asimov was predated by Jules Verne, HG Wells, George Orwell, you could have even cited Poe or Jonathan Swift has a case but Asimov?
PbbBFFTTBBBTBTTBBTBTTT so desperate to discredit the idea of Mary Shelly as the mother of modern science fiction you didn’t even do a frickin google search For Shame
Kinda funny, considering this Isaac Asimov quote on the subject:
Mary Shelley was the first to make use of a new finding of science which she advanced further to a logical extreme, and it is that which makes Frankenstein the first true science fiction story.
You know what else was invented by women? Masked vigilantes, the precursor to the modern superhero. Baroness Emma Orczy wrote The Scarlet Pimpernel in 1905. The character would later inspire better known masked vigilantes such as Zorro and Batman.
the first extended prose piece - ie a novel, was not, as many male scholars will shout, Don Quixote (1605) but The Tale of Genji (1008) written by a woman
"This week I discovered the same pattern, executed by Google. Google Chrome is reaching into users' machines and writing a 4 GB on-device AI model file to disk without asking."
Google Chrome is downloading a 4 GB Gemini Nano model onto users' machines without consent, with no opt-in, no opt-out short of enterprise t
So some asshole has thought up a new Tumblr scam: it's a post on a Tumblr account that's named something to make it look official-ish.
Variations include:
account-help
account-sync
account-update
account-updating
These posts show up on your dashboard, telling you that because they think you've monetized your Tumblr account, they're putting you in the penalty box sending you to the cornfield setting you to "Lurker Mode" where you can post but no one will see your posts. And, naturally, all you have to do is click on the helpful link to give tumblrsupport your account data to get it fixed.
Friends, this is a big fat lie.
The official location of Tumblr Support is https://www.tumblr.com/support or https://support.tumblr.com. And guess what? They'll already have your account information.
Tumblr has no such thing as Lurker Mode.
If you right-click on their link, you'll see it's a munged/shortened link. You can go to a site like https://www.expandurl.net to expand that link and see where it takes you: it's not Tumblr Support.
@staff, please be aware this is happening.
Be aware. Be careful. Don't give your account info to anyone. Be safe, and happy blogging!
So, my brain just reminded me that Jeff, per TAG canon (thx Capt Taylor!), goes to the moon in 2027 to establish a lunar base. In the next 2 years, NASA will be establishing a lunar base with the Artemis program.
JEFF TRACY IS A PART OF THE ARTEMIS PROGRAM!!
This means that right now, he and Lee Taylor are learning from the Integrity crew & training off of what they learned.
I used the TOS ages and tried to configure that into the tag universe because in the TOS universe, Jeff is 56 when IR begins and Scott is 30 so that would mean that Jeff was 26 when Scott was born and Virgil states in the first episode that it's the year 2060, and judging by how Alan is teenager in this variation, using the TOS ages the next I could come up with 2006 for Jeff
I go into more depth here. But I could be completely wrong, this is just what makes sense to me.
I see where you're coming from, but... how exceptional would Jeff have to be to have achieved all the NASA requirements for entering their astronaut program by 21? Never mind having enough astronaut training to head to the moon at that age.
Even at 27 (born 2000), he would still be considered exceptional.
So, my brain just reminded me that Jeff, per TAG canon (thx Capt Taylor!), goes to the moon in 2027 to establish a lunar base. In the next 2 years, NASA will be establishing a lunar base with the Artemis program.
JEFF TRACY IS A PART OF THE ARTEMIS PROGRAM!!
This means that right now, he and Lee Taylor are learning from the Integrity crew & training off of what they learned.
Found it, though his birth year is also recorded as 1970. So, I think for TAG, given the information Lee Taylor provides, we have to discard both years. The only consistent date is the day he's born, which is Jan 2nd.
Link to the article. You have to scroll down quite a ways to find this.
Please remember that ticipedia is heavily TOS-based. Possibly to the exclusion of TAG altogether. (Definitely turned their back on movie-verse.)
Remember, TOS canon (or canon-affiliated) says Jeff was first man on the moon. TAG puts him as first man on Mars. Depending on how long it takes a Mars launch to happen--NASA says it's 20 years away-- Jeff, born in 2009, may well be part of that mission.
Yeah, I did notice that while scrolling through it.
However, it did provide the details for where people were coming up with 2006 and 2009 as Jeff's birth years, which I hadn't been able to find elsewhere. So, I was happy to solve that mystery.
In order for the TAG timeline of him being a part of the new lunar base in 2027, NASA's basic requirements for astronauts & the fact teenagers rarely become USAF Lt Colonels in peacetime, he has to have been born no later than 2000*.
*this would make Grandma Tracy an especially spry Gen-Xer in 2060.
