Thursday, July 27, 2006

Home and that's good

The ride back from New York was interesting as I watched Connecticut drivers practicing moves from the good folks of Massachusetts. Yesterday, for example, they gave their turn signals the day off. Then, there was the motorcyclist who did a two-fer: not only did he drive in the breakdown lane at 80 while the rest of the traffic was doing 60, he also drove solo on the Diamond Lane, reserved for vehicles with two or more passengers.

Which reminds me. Last Sunday Sandra and I stopped at The Country Store in Petersham. The store is owned and operated by the Polus Center. It has a fine deli for sandwiches and ice cream, basic groceries, and lots of gifts, most hand-crafted. When we go in, we pass a bunch of motorcycles and folks wearing leather. They weren't, however, bikers in the common use of the word. They didn't have tattoos. They appeared to have all of their teeth.

In the store, one guy took off his jacket. Now, I'm not a fashion prude, at least not too much. Some things, nevertheless, are just wrong. A guy with the demeanor of an insurance salesman shouldn't be wearing a t-shirt that says, "Bad to the bone." It's like the Monty Python sketch where Michael Palin plays a chartered accountant who figures that he's ready make a career change to lion taming because he has a hat. "A hat with 'lion tamer' on it. I got it at Harrods."

So, I'm home, soon to be at work. We're looking at possible in the rear view mirror as we move through the stunning amount of work that needs to be done by tomorrow at 5. We'll deliver something, for varying values of something.

But, I'm home and that's good.

Happy Birthday, Sandra. The world joins in the celebration.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

View from the 13th floor

Well, it could be the 13th or even the 14th. The first floor is one floor up from the lobby. And, the lower lobby, one floor down, lets you exit to the street in the back of the hotel. The hotel staff calls this the Executive Level. The rooms aren't anything special, but we get a free breakfast buffet. (There's also a free cocktail hour, lasting three hours. I don't have any business being there, so I don't go.)

Yesterday I was drawn into a discussion about the need to add one more book to my workload. We probably need to do it, but not by Friday, when I have nine books due. This afternoon I met with the lead engineer on the product and he mentioned that there were two more components, meaning two more books. By Friday. Oh, and, did I mention that the engineer will be taking a few days off, returning next Tuesday. And that the lead engineer on my other projects will be going to India for vacation for a few weeks.

Last week I worked about 65 hours. It won't be that much this week, more like 50. Others on the team, project managers, developers, testers, and writers, are doing about the same, if not more.

Underlying it all is a customer that is very demanding regarding the quality and quantity of the documentation. At one point, we were negotiating a five-week delay in the delivery of one of the products. The customer said, fine, but give us the documentation on the original date, five weeks before the software was done. Executives to the VP level are talking about documentation.

Normally, technical writers labor in the basement of the product development world, far away from the light and heat. We're often like the blind mules working the mines, rarely brought out to meet the people at the top of the mine. We'll meet this week's deadline as best we can and the next one and the next one after that, until we're done.

While driving here, I saw several of these Kia Amantis. They remind me of the Soviet ZIL.

Also while riding, I heard Elvis do a cover the Hoyt Axton tune "Never Been to Spain." Elvis was one of the greatest performers and interpreters of music. One of the the things that happened, though, once RCA got a hold on him and his music, the record company started over-producing and over-orchestrating each song, believing that the American listened wanted such mush. The orchestration fell wet sand on this nifty song. Elvis was a great gospel singer, but the same thing happened to his gospel music, wet sand of strings and choruses. Listen to his handling of gospel classics on the Million Dollar Quartet (Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Carl Perkins) and you'll how deeply this music ran through his veins.

In the 70s the traffic circle in uptown Gardner was covered with Astro-turf (or some generic knock-off). It looked good for about a week. Then it got dirty and needed to be washed or vacuumed, for which the city had no budget. The artificial turf was replaced with asphalt after 20 years. These folks (via Joho the Blog) want to banish the stuff from the planet. Good luck. There will also be a place like Gardner that thinks that Astro-turf is a good idea.

Know anyone who needs one of these (via New Launches)? It's like a sneeze guard for your keyboard.

So, each person in Arizona who votes in the primary and/or general election will have a chance to win $1M. Central Pennsylvania blood banks will give ccoupons for free beer to people who donate blood. What's next? Nevada providing coupons to its voters for a free ticket to the Mustang Ranch or the new salon that Heidi Fleiss is opening?

My car is reaching the age that I find various spare parts on the floor. Nothing much yet under the car, but I need the radio to cover the various squeaks and groans of the suspension.

I have a nifty extension to my Firefox browser. It lets me see the time in a more sensible way. Instead of 9:45, it shows:

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

About drugs 'n stuff

Signs that I may be a bit too familiar with the world of prescription drugs:
  • When you reach the age that almost everyone, even folks obviously older than me, call me "Sir," the pharmacy technical at the nearby drug store greets me by my first name when I go in for refills.
  • I am reading a story in the Wall Street Journal about addiction transfer. (A significant number of people who have gastric bypass surgery go on to develop other addictions, such as compulsive gambling, alcoholism, or compulsive shopping.) The article mentions a couple of drugs that are been tested as possible treatments. The article includes a misspelling of one of the names (Bupropian, instead of Bupropion, aka Wellbutrin).
Elsewhere on health matters:
Last Friday's entry was the 500th in this journal.

Friday, July 14, 2006

Clear cutting

The report from the pathology lab says that the surgery was successful, that they got all of the cancer, in that one area. I still have a follow-up appointment with the dermatologist to
find out if there are other suspicious areas on me.

Thanks for all the prayers and cheers and comforting words. As Luis Tiant said of the Boston fans, "You make do better than I can do."

Now on to the important stuff. I replaced our wireless router at home last night. We've had cable Internet access for several years. The speeds of our connection, however, has been dropping significantly, down to and below dial-up speed. The culprit was the router. When I installed the new router, we got our Internet back again. It's a bit surprising that the router failed first; the cable modem is older by a couple of years.

Anyway, we're back on the air so that we can hear about:
One of the problems with the electronic delivery of music (iPods, satellite radio, Internet radio, and such) is the lack of information about the music. Liner notes on albums and even CD jackets provided important stuff like the song's author. If you are fortunate, you'd also find out who played on the sessions. Occasionally, some radio stations will give that kind of background detail, but it's becoming increasingly rare and increasingly hard to locate.

And, then, Apple seems to be poised to address this problem, at least partially. Future versions of the iPod will have text-to-speech capability to let the iPod tell you who is playing what. It won't yet tell me who was playing bass on Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited sessions, but it's a start. (There were two bassists - Russ Savakus and Harvey Brooks.)

The era of crank windows is coming to an end, with just a few vehicles offering them as a cheap option. Two quick stories on that:
  • A member of our extended family would have every one in the car open their windows (even in Canadian winters) when they driving over a bridge while in a car with power windows. She was afraid that the windows wouldn't open underwater.
  • I knew a guy who was really excited when he bought his first car with power windows. He could then throw his beer bottles out the passenger side and not have to worry about on-coming traffic so much. It worked great, except for the time that he thought the window was down and it wasn't.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Crazy diamond goes dark

My Way News: "Pink Floyd co-founder Syd Barrett dies"

On health and some about nature

After the 1938 hurricane, there was plenty of work for people willing and able to clear away the fallen trees. My father and another guy worked on the property of the old state hospital in East Gardner. In those days, many of the people who were committed to the hospital didn't come out vertically. It was a grim place, but it was some place. When the hospital closed in the 70s, many people were sent to the streets. We had people living in the Salvation Army bin in front of the Friendly's where I worked. One guy would come into the restaurant and drink Fribble® glasses of water, a sign of unchecked diabetes. Folks hung around for a month or so and then just went away.

At the hospital, my father met up with a patient named Percy. Percy dragged a heavy chain all of the time. He seemed all right, able to carry on normal conversations. After several times meeting up with Percy, my father's friend finally asked, "How come you keep dragging that chain around behind you?"

"You ever try pushing one of these things?"

Many of us will remember Lyndon Johnson showing off his gall bladder scar after his 1966 operation. I think that we're generally agreed that the world neither wants nor needs to see my scar, which, truth be told, is fading to just a scratch. I'm expecting to get the pathology lab results in the next day or two. Friday I have an x-ray scheduled to check on my pneumonia (cough, cough) and then an appointment with the dermatologist who will be looking anything else that might be suspicious.

Yesterday's Boston Globe carried an article that brought some interesting, but not altogether helpful news about skin cancer. For squamous cell cancer, there's no doubt that sun exposure is the primary cause and sunblock is the primary preventative. For basal cell cancer or melanoma, the evidence is less clear. Sun exposure, particularly sunburns, are a factor, but so are family history, age, sex, and skin type.

While the scientists figure out what's really at work here, I will take the cautious route. My days lounging around the beach in a Speedo® are done.

In conversations with family and friends, I've been trying to figure out how this cancer diagnosis has changed things. I don't have a clear answer and probably won't for a while. In the meantime, life is full and good, so I have plenty of ways to focus my energy. I often recall what an old friend said to me many years ago. "You'll reach a place where you look forward to the hard times for what they're going to teach you."

We don't see many deer at the camp. My guess is that the woods are too thick with undergrowth to let them move about easily. A couple of times, we've seen one swimming across the cove. Recently, we saw fresh hoof prints in the wet sand near the boat house. Our neighbors reported seeing a bull moose on the dirt road leading to their house.

Monday, July 03, 2006

Later that day...

My doctor was called away on an emergency, so I was lying on the table for a half hour, pondering things:
The doctor believes that he cut away all of the cancer. I'll have the lab results next week and then a series of inspections and detections by machine and medical professional. It's a reminder that when you're in the medical system, your body is not wholly your own.

Oh, and no shower for 48 hours. I'm glad that they still make spray deodorant.

One of the signs in the hospital parking garage says, "Exit to Entry Ramp." We were looking for the Entry to Exit Ramp.

Thanks for your notes and prayers and holding me in the light.

Bring on the kitchen implements

Sandra will drive me in to the hospital for the surgery this morning. Adam has described the procedure as using a melon baller to remove the cancer. I expect to be home by late morning. I won't be able to go swimming for a couple of weeks and will, for the rest of my life, have to be more fastidious about using sunscreen. Yesterday, for example, I was using the string trimmer to clear away the long grass and brush on the camp road. Even though it was cloudy, my skin was pink when I went back indoors. My legs also looked as though someone had been throwing darts at them, such is the effect of wearing shorts while using a string trimmer on a gravel road.

Meanwhile, the medical profession learns that patient care involves the whole family.

Arlo Guthrie talked about a concert that he did with Pete Seeger in Berlin afgter the Wall fell. The concert was going alright, but people weren't singing along as much because, well, Pete and Arlo were singing mostly American tunes. The song that broke through was that American folk classic that begins: Wise men say, only fools rush in.... If you want people to sing along, you can't wrong with an Elvis song. That universality extended to a meeting between Japanese Prime Minister Koizumi and our own W at Graceland.

Peter Gammons, of ESPN and formerly of the Boston Globe, had a brain aneurysm last week. Several years ago, I sat in front of Gammons on a flight from Dallas to Boston. My father and I were returning from my uncle's funeral in St. Louis and I'd managed to get ticket upgrades for us. Gammons was coming back from the baseball winter meetings where the big topic was Alex Rodriguez's $160-someodd million contract with Texas. The guys on the place wanted to talk about A-Rod and Gammons just wanted some sleep.

I like my job, even though we're heading into a series of impossible deadlines and so wind up playing the game of chicken. I still keep my automated and informal job searches going along, just to be safe. Last week I received an invitation to go to work at another high-tech company. (I declined.) My automated search for a technical documentation job turned up this gem: a sanitation supervisor for Kellogg in Memphis.

Daryl Gates was chief of the LAPD and key innovations to urban policing, notable the special weapons and tactics (SWAT) team. His career, however, flamed out after the riots following the Rodney King verdict in 1992. So, where is he now? He's working with a company that auctions confiscated property after the property is no longer needed as evidence. For example, would you like to buy a Pallet Of Servers And Components? Current bid is $10.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Are you drinking too much? A new BlackBerry ebook has advice - BBHub

Are you drinking too much? A new BlackBerry ebook has advice - BBHub

Hint: if you're drinking too much, it's probably not because your BlackBerry doesn't have the right stuff on it.

Monday, June 26, 2006

LILEKS (James) The Dorcus Line of Menswear

LILEKS (James): The Dorcus Line of Menswear

via Neatorama

there was a third possibility that we hadn't even counted upon ...

This morning's appointment with the surgeon turned out to be a consultation. The surgery is scheduled for next Monday.

If you didn't work at DEC or work on DEC gear, you can skip the next paragraph and, instead, reflect on What Dogs Hear.

The title of this note comes from Arlo Guthrie's Alice's Restaurant. As I was checking for the exact quote (found here), I found a reworking of the tune for the elder geeks among this readership: Alice's PDP-10. Those who remember the KL10-series will also remember that other sweet, old tune: I dont' care what people say, 36 bits are here to stay.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

The power of words

You don't have to work with words for a living to know that power is distributed unevenly to words and phrases. So it was last week when I called my doctor's office to describe my symptoms - fever, chills, um, colorful coughing, and Darth Vaderesque breathing. The nurse said that I should see the doctor now because "it could be pneumonia." I received a prescription for a strong antibiotic and an appointment for a chest x-ray. Most of us, when sick, want to know that we have something real and, even better, measurable, lest we be thought of as slackers.

A bunch of years ago, 25 perhaps, I stopped for an ice cream home on my way back from a mid-day appointment. When I got out of the car, I noticed smoke and flames coming out from under the hood. I walked in to the Baskin & Robbins and asked the young woman behind the counter if she could call the fire department. I also ordered my ice cream cone and enjoyed it while I watched the fire fighters spray foam into the engine compartment.

When my doctor told me on Friday that the mole I'd had removed the previous week was "malignant melanoma," I sat up a bit straighter, but didn't flinch. Tomorrow morning, the surgeon will remove an area around the original incision, "clearing the margins," they call it. I'll take the day off and then see what kinds of follow-up appointments and treatments are called for.

As you'd expect, I do spend time thinking about what this means. Whatever it is, I'm grateful - grateful for what I have and grateful for what this will teach me.

Medical advances have given us many more options when treating difficult conditions. Nevertheless, if someone offers botox injections as a treatment for depression, you might want to think it through.

Or, if you have a great need to cut yourself and your nurse says, "Just don't get anything on the carpet," it would be fair to start a discussion about who's really crazy here.

Sandra ordered curried chicken and I requested spicy string beans with beef when we went to a local Chinese restaurant the other night. A short while later, the waiter delivered our dinners and quickly disappeared. While we listened to such elevator-favorite tunes such as Guantanamera, done in an ersatz Chinese style, we enjoyed our meals, even though what Sandra received wasn't what she ordered. Some time later, the waiter reappeared and asked us if everything was all right.

"This is good," Sandra said, pointing to the sweet, orange-flavored pieces of chicken on the plate, "but it isn't what I ordered."

"It's better," he said and went away.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

EmacsWiki: EmacsAndLife

EmacsWiki: EmacsAndLife: "Calling EMACS an editor is like calling the Earth a hunk of dirt."

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