How to stop a conversation

Some 15 years ago Sandra and I attended a holiday party sponsored by her company's division. She managed a system administration and software development team of 10 people or so. A woman who worked for Sandra, along with the woman's husband, joined us at dinner table. The conversation meandered, I'm not sure how it was that Sandra and I learned how the husband in this couple wore fishnet underwear. Who knows what bit of life-saving knowledge has been blocked from my memory because I have the image of this guy, wearing fishnets, in my beleaguered brain?

The first of December was covered with nothing much

It's above 60 now. A cold front is coming in later today and we may have snow by Monday.

The high school in my father's town has a program to give students extra credits if they help the elderly. My father turned down an offer to have a few teens shovel snow around his house. He didn't think that they'd be able to keep up and would wind up hitting each other with the shovels. So, when the snow comes, he'll be out there with the Jeep and then the snow blower.

Happy 93^rd Birthday, Huck.

Clear sound and foggy bottoms

Marley and I went for a walk this morning. Our preferred path is along the fire trails that run through a large tract of undeveloped land nearby. Today, however, the grounds crews were on the trails, clearing away fallen trees and branches. We kept our distance and Marley was on the leash for most of the walk.

We knew that the crews were in the woods because sound travels so much further these days. The leaves are down and there's no snow yet. The chain saws and ATVs traded solos with the ducks in the pond and the down-shifting trucks on Main Street. It'll be quiet again soon and we'd gladly trade a bit clatter for a 60-degree day so late in the season.

There was a sign in the van that took Sandra and me from Reagan Airport to the hotel:

Its (sic) state law:
No Smoking
Fasten Seat Belts

Ever the dreamers. Washington, D.C. isn't a state or even in a state. [Insert your own joke here.]

We stayed at a nice hotel a few blocks from the White House and were delighted to discover products from niece Lori's company in our bathroom. Now, I'm more of a soap kind of guy when I wash my hair, but the mint and thyme wash smelled nice and was soothing outside and inside my head.

We had our Thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat at the restaurant where we had lunch after my mother's funeral service. Good humor prevailed in the crowded restaurant. We had good seats and a good meal. (You don't find many classy restaurants that serve liver and bacon.)

It's not surprising that Washington is a richly multi-cultural city, particularly on Thanksgiving weekend. You have all kinds of people who can't or don't want to go back home: foreign students, diplomats, spies, trembling Republicans. There are the firm and the infirm. There are those, too, for whom D.C. is home. So an Escalade is parked next to an Astro van and somehow, as with our democracy, it all works.

After dinner we went for a walk and that's where some of my lug nuts started to rattle. Sandra had wanted to see the new World War II memorial and possibly the Martin Luther King memorial, both recent additions to the Washington Mall. I had no recollection of the plan, no idea even what the Washington Mall was, let alone where it was. Added to that, it was a foggy evening, although there was no doubt that I brought my own fog with me.

I knew that I'd have memory loss after the treatments, but I didn't expect that it would be like this. Not knowing something is troublesome enough, but not knowing that you don't know, well, you'd better hope that the person with you is loving and patient.

It was only after we'd walked a while toward the Washington Monument that I started to have a clue about what was happening and what it meant. We made our way to the WWII and Lincoln memorials and the Wall. We'll visit MLK on another trip.

On Friday morning, the air clear and fresh, we set out to Arlington National Cemetery via the city's delightful public transit system, the Metro. We kept calling it the T and by day's end worked our way to calling it the M. The cars are clean and comfortable; there's plenty of good information about what's where. We made it across (under) the river and into Virginia easily.

The cemetery, sadly, is huge with room for more. It's a mile walk from the visitor's center to the columbarium where Linc and my mother rest. (A columbarium is also know as a dovecote, where doves are kept.) The walk is full of reverence and history. Some came here young, some old soldiers, some old pacifists, all trying, in their own ways, to keep us free.

My wits were good enough to get our airplane reservations changed to an earlier flight on Saturday, but we had an, um, interesting time because I couldn't connect the dots in my mind to find a clear path home. Fortunately, Rhode Island politicians worked the system well, so that there were plenty of ways to get from there to here.

Frost, still, at 11 in the morning

The shadows around the house are long, even at mid-day. We had a cold, clear night last night and the frost stayed on the back deck and yard until late morning.

I'm wrung out today. I haven't had good sleep for a couple of nights. I had my third treatment yesterday morning and am waiting for a call to schedule my fourth. (Note the paragraph ahead regarding the phone technician.) Frankly, my family has noticed more improvement than I have. When I listen to myself, I can't always make much sense of the words or ideas.

My insurance company informed me today that my short-term leave is done and that I'm being switched over to long-term. Mostly, it means more paperwork for my doctors and me. I don't mind the paperwork, but the extra forms take time away from my doctors, who should have that time to practice medicine.

This is a day at home. Marley and I did walk to a local garage where they'd done some routine maintenance on Sandra's car. (Lucky her. She gets to drive my car with the loose wires and rattles and bumps and the odd aggolmeration of audio gear and parts.) We've reached the time when I need to either look for a new car or spend a chunk of change on maintenance and repair. Those decisions aren't easy in the best of times. These, we know aren't the best of times for my decision-making.

Today we have a Verizon technician making some changes to our phone lines. We used be very afraid when we saw a phone company truck in the neighborhood because we were sure something was going to go wrong. The technician just walked through the room, muttering something about "unauthorized service." "I'll get you going again," he said.

Sandra and I are going on a quick trip to Washington D.C. at the Old Ebbit Grill We'll visit Arlington National Cemetery, where my mother and Linc are inurned. We haven't been there since my mother's funeral. We'll have a coffee at the Smithsonian and also have a meal at the Old Ebbit Grill, where we had lunch after the funerals.

Thinking of the season. As tough as these months have been, I have much for which to be grateful.

You Are 92% Thankful

You're an incredibly thankful person, and everyone around you feels very appreciated. You inspire people to be more optimistic, forgiving, and grateful.

How Thankful Are You?

Mmm, hospital coffee

The people in the hospital were very nice, anticipating aspects of the procedure that might uncomfortable, scary, confusing. Hospitals can be an unsettling place because, I think, the people who work there see the same things each day, while folks from the outside are there for something that is new and strange.

Sandra and I arrived shortly before 6:30. On Tuesday I'd received two phone calls from the hospital, one telling me to report to a room on the 3^rd floor, the other to the 2^nd. We arrived at the room on the 3^rd where we were directed to the 2^nd. Now we know.

The procedure itself was a swirl of activity and lights until it was lights out for me. It all felt like it went quickly, but it was a few hours before I was back in my room (which didn't look familiar at all), some time after 10:00. I declined the offer of breakfast, but did have a cup of coffee.

My only discomfort is a sore jaw because I was clenching my teeth so hard. A couple of Tylenol^® takes care of that. There's some goop left over in my hair, a conductivity gel.

Sandra brought me home by noon. (I think. I'm having difficulty with time and dates. I keep thinking that today is Monday and, on this cloudy day, I can't guess the time; I have to check a clock.)

In all, I feel ok, tired, but ok.

It's easy to find positive thoughts when you know where to look

Tomorrow morning I'll start a series of ECT treatments. It's an out-patient procedure, two to three times a week. They tell me that it won't hurt and I believe them. They say that there might some temporary memory loss and I'll say, of course, "What memory loss?"

Today I've had two calls from the hospital, telling me to report at two different offices and at different times. The doctors are still trying to locate the lab results of the tests that I had last Friday. My definition of bad bureaucracy is that climate in the workplace that causes good, well-intentioned, smart people to do bad or stupid things.

I was told a long time ago about the power of a gratitude list. At its most simple, it's a list of the people and fortunes which I'm grateful. Even on my worst days, I can easily fill a page. I have many blessing, near and far.

In the meantime, the world out there goes along its mega-goofy ways:

• Britney Spears kicked her husband to the curb by way of a Blackberry text message.
• One can get a technical writing job working in on Asset-Forfeiture and Money-Laundering projects.
  
• OK, bring in the violins: a Hell's Angel is feeling bad because the Angels have been ruled a criminal organization (organisation?) in Canada.
• A Wisconsin legislator has a novel idea to protect students against armed assaults - arm the teachers. A high-school physics teacher of mine used to throw chalk at the wiseguys sleeping in the back of the room. How much more interesting would it be if he carried a 9mm?

I'll write as best as I can during the coming weeks.

The low, gray clouds of November

A quick way to retrieve your current weather conditions and forecast is to type this into your browser's address bar: http://weather.gov/01331, where 01331 is your ZIP code. (via lifehacker). Of course, what you'll find around here at this time in mid-New England won't be very interesting.

We've had rain followed by showers followed by rain again, this for several days and for several days more. The skies may be the color of wet dustballs, but there are fine points of celebration and thanksgiving.

Happy 64^th Anniversary, Marian and Woody, including nearly 25 years as housemates. Life's pretty good, y'know.

Regional report

The news from the Pioneer Plastic City is grim. The company that originally manufactured the plastic pink flamingo is going out of business. We have a couple of the birds in our cellar, mementos of a sillier time. It's disappointing, indeed, when the arts cannot thrive

What was once one of Gardner's magnificent furniture factories, Gem Crib and Cradle, now houses chain pharmacies. Joe Lieberman even gave tribute to Gardner's industries. (His statements are totally unrelated to the fact that his wife grew up in Gardner.)

I worked at Gem Crib for a short time in the 60s. I was pretty much an idiot then, highlighted by walking off a loading dock. I caught back of my thigh on a piece of metal on the edge of the dock. I quit that job before I got fired. I started my restaurant career at a (now gone, too) small burger and ice cream shop down the road about five miles.

Across the street from Gem Crib is a gasoline station. It had been a Getty station with the cheapest prices in town. Now the station is a part of the LUKOIL chain. As a child of the Cold War, having a Russian business in our midst creeps me out. I'll get over it, though. It wasn't that long after WWII that we were driving Volkswagens.

I answered a call from Sandra's cousin, Jeanette, who lives in upstate New York. She asked if it was snowing here; it had just started where she lives. Although the temperature dipped to the mid-20s this morning, the sky is clear and we can see for miles.

Happy 2^nd Birthday, Cassie.

What's ahead?

What's ahead? A head? Heh-heh. *snork*

This interview (WFCR audio) describes the increasing effectiveness and popularity of an old procedure.

Letting the reporters do their jobs

I haven't spent a lot of time describing the symptoms. Writing is very difficult and the words come out tumbled and flat, like bugs on the windshield.

Chris Rose, a reporter for the New Orleans Times-Picayune, has written a nifty piece about depression, the impact on himself and on his family and friends. Dooce adds some good commentary around Chris's story.

More later. Thanks for your patience.

...the frost perched on the town...

We have a small pond less than a quarter of mile down the hill from our house. Ducks, for the most part, stay the winter, but geese are only passing through.

To my ears, there's no better song to guide us to winter than Joni Mitchell's Urge for Going, which I first heard on Tom Rush's LP The Circle Game. Each autumn since the song's 1968 release, I recall the lyric, "See the geese in chevron flight ..."

Our race for state representative has produced an odd effect: signs for both the Democratic and Republican candidates in the same yard. There are several possible explanations, none of them making great sense.

In the race for governor, we step into the land of "I Don't Get It." Republican Kerry Healey, our current Lt. Governor, is comparing herself to Bill Clinton, arguing that, even though Clinton has campaigned for Democrat Deval Patrick, her policies are more like Clinton's than Patrick''s are.

Up in PEI, an Olympic gold medalist is upset that a street named after him uses just his nickname, rather than his full name with nickname in the middle.

The Smithsonian Global Sound has released an album of of polkas drawn several regional traditions. Among the songs are Karl's Bad Schottische. When I was growing up, we had a 78rpm of the Finnish song, Maailman Matti (Matti, Man of the World). I had no idea what the song was about, but it was a familiar and comforting tune.

Happy 15^th Birthday, Matt.

Stop or I'll say, "Stop!" again.

During the 50s and early 60s it seemed as though bombs were dropping everywhere. Some saw these bombs as a source of defensive strength and national pride. Others, particularly kids such as me, went to bed scared most nights. We were afraid of the images of the mushroom clouds and learned about Strontium-90 in our milk.
The frightened children of the world can now take comfort that the United States wants an official U.N. response to North Korea's nuclear test within a week of the explosion. A week is a bit too fast for China, but everyone on the Security Council agrees that the whole world should glare at North Korea.

Not only did we have war and rumors of war in the 50s, we had real, honest-to-goodness Friday the 13ths. Walt Kelly, through the Pogo comic strip, taught us how to avoid the perils of this day.

In addition to Kelly, Herb Block (Herblock) drew cartoons that were sad or frightening or barbed (all at the same time). Herblock's portfolio includes material about war, nuclear arms race, McCarthyism, civil rights, and corporate culture.

Even as each writer covered the same topics, they did so with unique styles. Kelly developed characters lyrically while Herblock tossed javelins at the tips of pointy-headed officials.

I miss them both. Fortunately, I have a number of Pogo books that remain fresh more than 50 years after the strips were published.

Meanwhile, our president is reporting on the nation's finances. "These budget numbers are not just estimates; these are the actual results for the fiscal year that ended February the 30th."

Football notes, by way of the Holden Landmark:

• "We spread the ball a little bit and had people like Mike Hakkarainen, Andrew Tokarz and Burt Grinstead running it.
  "Wachusett's 3-2 JVs knocked off Westboro, 24-0, earlier this week. The TDs were scored by Justin Stevens, Kellon Haynes and Mike Hakkarainen.
• "The Mountaineer freshmen remained undefeated, downing Westboro, 32-19, earlier this week. Gary White, Matt Hakkarainen and Matt Pedone had the TDs."
• "Joe Hakkarainen and Ryan Getchell ran the ball well...

Word pieces

The purpose of writing is to take ideas and observations and make them into words, sentences, and paragraphs which can then be shared. Writing for me, these days, has lots of pieces and parts on the table while, at the same time, revealing gaps in the sentences and paragraphs, as though I was writing through a torn curtain.

This past weekend, Sears had an advertising flyer that included special price for t-shirts. One, though, had me puzzled. "Will play for mushrooms" seems a bit too psychedelic for a multimillion dollar retail clothing business. Apparently, however, the phrase now refers to some goings-on a Super Mario Bros. video game. I became uncool regarding music in the mid-80s; I know so because a the 14-year-old son of a friend told me so. We last played video games in the Pac-man/Space Invaders, leaving a quarter-century to soak myself in unsolicited.

Ever since he moved from Pennsylvania to South Florida, columnist Dave Barry has claimed, with some reason, that Florida drivers are only slightly better drivers than are manatees. While Massachusetts drivers yield to no one, the Sunshine State is making a run at the title of Grand Wazoo of Bad Drivers. It is a collaboration between individuals and government to crank up the looniness. This month, for example, the AAA newsletter includes a section on the, um, adventures of driving in Florida. One person, a transplant from Rhode Island, observed a car crash at a particular intersection and called the local city office to request a stop sign for the intersection. They don't stop anyway, said that city official, so why waste the money?

Lots of folks have recommended exercise as a way to raise my spirits and energy levels. Marley and I walk most days, sometimes for a hour in the nearby woods, sometimes for 20 minutes to the corner pharmacy. The trip through the woods is best for the both of us - it's a longer trip for me and a chance for him to run freely.

Another recommendation, borne out in my own experience, is finding things that bring laughter.We cana always rely on Massachusetts politicians for a short bit of silliness. See Christy Mihos's The Big Dig, Explained.

The day is fine and the boat is resting on dry land

In a small town near to the (even smaller) town where Adam, Jenny, and Lily live, they have a two-fer store. The store is not onlly a hardware story, but also a pharmacy. You can pick up drill bits with your Drixoral.

We've had a stretch of beautiful fall weather. Yesterday, Adam and Jennie removed our boat from the water and brought it to a marina near their home. The folks at the marina will winterize, shrink-wrap, and store the boat for the winter.

The daytime temperatures have been pleasant. Nights are long and cool. We have a thermometer (not one of these) that lets us measure the water temp. A number of 70 or 55 or whatever isn't much help, however. The relative water temperature is set on a scale of:

Nice
Refreshing
Cool
Cold
Mighty cold
Ice
Too much ice for sauna

Happy 7^th Birthday, Lily.

Free skunk, just in time for the holidays

About 8:00 the other morning, I saw a skunk shuffling across our back deck. The skunk, a large one and probably a female, went to the edge of the deck, onto the ground, and back under the desk. Fortunately, Marley, Sandra, and I were inside and inside we stayed. We've cleaned skunk spray from two dogs two times each; that's been plenty.

We researched a few ideas to help us remove the skunk. Trapping was often mentioned, but I can't see how that can be a good idea. We have a Havahart^® trap. So, then, we catch the skunk in a cage. How is that any better than a skunk under the deck?

Our next idea came from the Sunday newspaper. We have closed all but a small part of the end of the deck and put ammonia-soaked rags at the exit/entrance point. The idea is that the skunk will go out because it needs to find food, but won't come back because of the ammonia smell. We put flour at the entrance to see if we could see footprints. So far, the flour is smooth and the air is fresh.

On the other side of the galaxy, meanwhile, people have gathered in Ohio in support of skunks.

[My father had a pet skunk during the early days of the camp, but that's a story for another day.]

With the spinach scare continuing, we now know the revealed wisdom of the past.

Harriet Carter's magazines are classics in the genre of "Boss, how about if we selling these?" and the boss says, "Good idea." For example, wouldn't it be nice to snuggle under a giant kitten head. And, if you want to let your cat outside, but not really, here's a cat tunnel.

In Boston, baseball is serious stuff, almost as serious as political posturing. A Boston city councillor wants to take down the Citgo sign that shines like a gentle moon over Fenway park. In a speech to the United Nations, Hugo Chavez, president and looney without portfolio, referred to George W. Bush as the devil. Citgo is owned by the Venezualan national oil company. So, Councilor Jerry McDermott said that the Citgo sign must come down. The war on terrorism and evilness begins at home.

When the spirit is low, humor is a great comforter. There's no more reliable source of humor than the Looney Tunes cartoons of old, particularly those produced by Chuck Jones. Here's one such cartoon.

Peach clouds in the western skies

The air is changing from mild to cool with unthreatening clouds tumbling in from the north and west. As the air clears, the colors of red and orange and yellow and purple and green are all the more vivid.

Our friend, Connie, long-time laborer for peace, has returned from the hospital with new vigor for healing herself physically and, most importantly, spiritually. Connie has cheered on family, friend, and Friends, including my mother, for a long time.

If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these together ought to be able to turn it back and get it right side up again.

- Sojourner Truth

Connie's experience shows that we can start the journey anew, whenever we're so inspired.

What to think about when what's in front of us doesn't make sense.

In the 50s TV show, The Millionaire, the protagonist, Michael Anthony, gave away a million bucks in each episode. It was a dramatic show, but one with a wink to the audience. In one scene, the week's nemesis says to Anthony that he never trusted anyone with two first names.

If a bad guy dislikes you for what you are, then, in my opinion, you're on the right track. The Massachusetts Democrats have four first names at the top of this year's ballot - Deval Patrick for governor and Wistah's own Tim Murray for lieutenant governor.

I was on hold on Tuesday while calling the insurance company that is handling my disability claim on Tuesday. The phone system offered an instrumental version of Handbags and Gladrags. Mike D'Abo wrote the song in the 60s and Rod Stewart recorded it in 1969. A few years ago, it became the theme song of the UK version of The Office. I thought of the song often while the customer-service representative was telling me that unless my doctor sends a form with updated medical information about me by Monday, my benefits will be cut off. My doctor is on vacation and won't return until Monday.

Please accept my deep gratitude for the gestures of comfort, kindness, and encouragement during these unbalanced times. I owe many personal responses and I will reply soon, for sure.

And now for something completely different, My brain hurts. (You'll need sound on your compute and a somewhat fast network connection.)

The light stays on, even in the darkness

The sun rises around 6:30 in the morning, In a balanced world, the sun would rise at 6AM on the equinox and set at 6PM; the equinox is on Saturday morning. We have time zones, though, that shift the actual sunrise and sunset by a few minutes. In addition, the sunlight is refracted by the atmosphere, so the sunlight is visible a few minutes before the sun breaks the horizon and a few minutes after the sun sets.

By all of this, I mean to say that it's still dark when I go out to the driveway to get the morning papers. I'm still in the habit of glancing up to the window in the room that was my mother's. She would wake during the night, for several hours at a time. She used that time for reading and, most of all, writing.

The room has been dark in the mornings since, but we can still see the light as we continue to celebrate what she said and wrote and was.

RIP, TJL.

G'bye, Joan

Lynn's mother, Joan, passed away earlier this afternoon. She was a sweet woman, eager to share her love, good humor, and faith. She was admitted to the hospital on Saturday with serious breathing difficulties. In just a few days, it was time for her to cross the river. Her five children, 18 grandchildren, and various in-laws and friends will stay on this shore. She drew strength from big family gatherings, so we'll have a big party to energize her for the journey.

We know the when. Here's the who, what, and where.

One of the engineers in our group sent an email at about 9:20, informing us that a plane had crashed into one of the towers in the World Trade Center. We assumed that it was a small plane that had strayed off course. We thought that for a while until word came around that a second plane had hit the other tower. We then learned that the planes were big machines - Boeing 767s. In the next hours, we learned more about the other plane crashes, the buildings and people affected, and, of course, My Pet Goat.

People in the office started asking the managers what they should or could do. A few of the managers met in my office where we held a speaker-phone call with the vice president of human resources. We asked if he or the executive management had any advice for us. He said that he would be sending a message to the company by noon. While waiting for his message, I sent email to the people on my team, telling them that they should be where they needed to be and that each person should give a hug to someone they loved.

By early afternoon, most people, including yours truly, had gone home.

Doug Gowell, a product manager from a former company, was on United Flight 175.

Work, interrupted

Simply put, I've been too sick for too long. After conversations with Sandra, with one doctor, and with another, I went on disability leave on Tuesday. Depression, it is, although I didn't use the word often. I told my manager and the one co-worker who'd be most affected by my absence. I'm not sure how long it will take for me to be well enough to be able to return to work, but it's likely to be months rather than weeks.

Sandra and the rest of my family have been wonderfully supportive. My manager and the co-worker were very encouraging. I'm also sure that people are more than a bit afraid, in part of the work that I won't be able to do and in part because the d-word is scary.

The company's policies regarding the treatment of depression and related illness are quite good, but it's still a big company.

• The envelope that brought me the paperwork had a statement on the back that said "Extremely Urgent." The words UPS Express, however, were redacted and replaced with UPS Ground. Urgent, but don't hurry.
• When I called the agency that provides services for behavioral health matters, I had to provide my doctor's name to determine if he is included in the insurance plan. (He is.) To confirm the doctor's address, the very nice person on the other end of the phone said, "Wuh, Wuh, Worchester."

So, here we go on another adventure of healing.

Of trees and music and meat and, oh, yes, work

The National Weather Service determined that Wednesday's storm was a derecho. The Worcester Telegram quoted Glenn A. Field of the NWS, "A derecho is a widespread 'family of downburst clusters' that is part of a very fast-moving, long-lived windstorm. " Derecho is a Spanish word that means "Full Employment for Anyone with A Chain Saw."

Sandra bought a chain saw on Friday. She didn't get to bring it home; almost all chain saws dealers are out of stock. Hers is on order. It has push-button assist so that it's easier to start.

That other sound you hear comes from the work deadlines whooshing past. I received an email yesterday afternoon from one of the engineers on my current project. I learned that we're not delivering 12 separate products, but one solution with 12 features. Instead of 12 books due by Wednesday, I now have one big book. In many ways, that's much better. I'd prepared for that possibility from the start.

We stopped by my father's house yesterday. On Saturday he mentioned that he'd bought a new wireless door bell, but he couldn't test how it sounded because no one was around to ring the doorbell. One friend was in Michigan, visiting family. Another two no longer drive because of health reasons. And the rest, well, you know. So, we rang the bell. It worked fine, although might not be quite loud enough if the TV is also loud.

Dr. John, aka Mac Rebennack, showed up on the music shuffle this morning. I first heard the Dr. John in the 60s when some guys at college returned from L.A. with his Gris-Gris album. The album is rich, dark, and tangled, like the backwoods of Louisiana. He's had some commercial successes and has emerged as one of the sustainers of New Orleans music, along with the Marsalis and Neville family.

Dr. John also, as certain angles, looks like our friend, Don. Enough so that when I hear the good doctor, I remember Don, even though I don't remember Don playing New Orleans or cajun music. Memories make the connections that they want to make.

Another bit from those smoke-filled years. On one of the classic rock channels, I recently heard "The Wind," by Circus Maximus. A check on the web shows that Jerry Jeff Walker played with CM. Didn't know and can hardly imagine that. "The Wind" was one of those long songs, a bit more than eight minutes, that DJs would put on the turntable when they needed to get away from the studio for a bit.

Arthur Lee, of the 60s California band, Love, recently died of leukemia. He was 61. He had a great voice, intriguing, haunting, supported by good material played by a good band. The band never achieved big commercial success, just deep respect from a dedicated group of listeners.

Vegetarians can enjoy a chuckle while we puzzle about meat.

• It used to be that you could get spaghetti sauce that had meat in it. Rarely did they advertise what type of meat it was, but it was meat. Now, the sauces are "meat-flavored." Again, we've no clue about the type of meat. We are left to imagine a cow or a pig or a raccoon walking through a vat of marinara to give it that meal flavor.
  


• A friend has returned east from Washington state. He reports that, unless you bribe the kitchen staff, you can't get a restaurant to serve you a steak that's medium rare or rare. The state has decided that under-cooked meat is a terrorist threat.
  So, rather than gnawing on that piece of e-coli-free shoe leather the next time you're in Seattle, you might want to have the sushi instead. (BTW, here's a video clip with the real story behind sushi in America.)
  

"I'm going to miss worship services this morning, honey. Our men's group is having our scripture readings outdoors today."

A new way to pick apples

A severe thunderstorm bullied its way through our area yesterday afternoon. When Sandra got home from work, the driveway was blocked by some good-sized branches from the maple tree. She found Marley cowering in our bedroom upstairs. In the backyard, she found that two apples trees had been uprooted. The storm also broke a peach tree and sent it into the dog pen.

In Worcester, many roads were blocked because of downed trees and power lines. A couple of the trees looked scorched, as though they'd been hit by lightning. As far as I know, there were no injuries.

The storm followed the first-ever excessive heat warning for this area, around 100F with maybe 95% humidity. "If you listen to the TV," said Huck, "we should all be dead." As tough as work has been, I'm grateful that I work in an air-conditioned space, unlike those who have to do things such as roofing or working on road construction details.

We don't get many severe thunderstorms, but it's good to pay attention when bad weather is around. I get weather warnings sent to my cell phone and will check the radio while driving. That venerable Boston station - WBZ - is the place to go. Since they remade themselves into an all-news format during the day (with talk shows in the night), they're a pretty reliable source for local news and weather. They offer a weather report every 10 minutes and, three minutes later, a traffic check. Their traffic reports rarely cover anything on I-495 or west, but sometimes something big happens. The weather reports come from Accuweather, based in State College PA. With good radar and satellite information, along with National Weather Service feeds, you'd hardly know that they weren't looking out a window on Storrow Drive.

Until last Friday. The forecaster was getting the detail of the weather, including the march of severe thunderstorms eastward. But he kept referring to the storms in "Worchester County". Everyone knows that the city and county names are pronounced Wusta.

RIP, Cosmic Muffin

One last item, from the There Will Always Be An England Dept.: Bog Snorkeling

Child's-eye view of project management

Every time I go to Wal-Mart, I hear the voices of my friends who play the role as my liberal conscience. I know that they make their own economic weather, that their workers at home and abroad receive low wages and depressed benefits. The aisles in the stores are too narrow and they have too few people staffing the registers. (Sam's Club is even worse.)

So, why do I go there? There are two:

1. Convenience. I can get what I need in one place at a time when I can do my shopping. Sunday I bought a circuit tester, peanut butter, and cough syrup. Wal-Mart even has a sense of humor. They had a display for Advil at the end of the toy aisle.
   
   Spag's was great in its day, but they weren't open on Sundays until quite late in their reign.
   
   
2. Anthropology. The people who shop and work there are fascinating. Just one brief story - A young couple was shopping with their toddler. The toddler was screaming as though his favorite toy was being carried away by wolves. The couple , meanwhile, was trying to decide which condoms to buy.

Another week crawling toward a deadline that keeps moving and morphing. Friday afternoon I learned that the sales manager for the account agreed that I didn't have to deliver my 12 books by 5PM that day, but I would have until Wednesday. Oh, but instead of 12 books, it's now 13.

Concluding a month of good fortune, I learned that my car needed some important (and expensive) repairs. The service manager called me in the afternoon to tell me that I need repairs on one thing for $260, replacement of another for $280, and yet another for $380. My tires need replacing before winter and my windshield wipers were gone. I thanked him while doing the mental calculations.

"There's more," he said. The electronics associated with the vehicle dynamics control needed replacement. "About $1100." They did some work and we postponed the rest until next week or the week after.

I like my car very much. It's fun to drive, on-road and kind-of-off. I also like the fact that it has a few dings and scrapes, that the back of the car has dog hair on the carpet and nose prints on the window. It has 135,000 miles on it now and has a good chance of going past 200K. Or, maybe not. These expenses could be the first stones that presage a landslide.

When I can, I am picking the routes that have the least amount of tree cover. Satellite radio requires a good view of the sky. The leaves on the trees can shield the signal. I bought the radio in November, when foliage wasn't an issue. On my trips to New York now, I'm more apt to chose I-84 instead of the Wilbur Cross/Merritt Parkway, because of the trees. One route from home to the camp has worse roads, but more sky.

There are times, however, when you want to park your car under a tree, in a garage, with a metal roof. Michael Bolton will be playing his favorites on the SIRIUS love channel this Thursday.

A bunch of years ago, the VP of engineering at our small company chastised me for using the phrase "tar baby" to describe a particularly bothersome project. He believed that it was a racist slur which, indeed, it has become. I was using it in the context of a child watching Song of the South on TV in the 50s. It was, to me, a white kid in an all-white rural community in central New England, a charming tale of wit defeating guile, in the same vein as Bugs Bunny vs. Elmer Fudd or Road Runner vs. Wile E. Coyote. The tar baby, in my view, was black because tar was black. Sure, there are legitimate reasons for criticizing the movie for being naively racist, but I don't think that such criticism applies to the goings-on in the briar patch. Nevertheless, "tar baby" probably deserves to be retired from our lexicon. For example, see what happens when our governor uses the phrase "tar baby" to describe the Big Dig.

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.

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:

About cats and dogs

Why they miss us, each in their own way.

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:

• Scientists believe that they have isolated the gene responsible for depression.
• I've been cleared of cancer for now and am supposed to be extra careful about exposure to the sun. In addition to SPF 10W40 and a hat the size of a trashcan lid, I guess one of these outfits would be a good idea.
• Finns don't want diseases named after them or their towns.
• Take a look at this site if you want to get an idea when you'll get your ticket punched.

Last Friday's entry was the 500th in this journal.

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:

• Well, Angus, what did you learn in school today?
• Give this man a Massachusetts driver's license.
• It's not only a pen, it's a radio. It's not only a pen and a radio, it's a shredder.

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.
  

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.

LOUIEFEST INDEX

1000 Guitars - 3 chords - All Louie Louie that your ears can stand

Later that day...

My doctor was called away on an emergency, so I was lying on the table for a half hour, pondering things:

• Sen. Ted Stevens' (R-Ork) masterful explanation of the internets.
• How Montonians became the arbiters of style and architecture?
• Do I want Twinkie Tacos for lunch?
  

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.

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.

Ed Bott's Windows Expertise » Best line of the day

Ed Bott's Windows Expertise » Best line of the day:

“Warren Buffett is so rich, he’s hired Bill Gates to spend his money.”

Stephen Colbert

Huge Asteroid to Fly Past Earth July 3 - Yahoo! News

If you hear a great "Whoosh" sound on July 3, be grateful that you heard anything at all.

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.

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.

CBC News: Oh, happy day! Today is the happiest of 2006

CBC News: Oh, happy day! Today is the happiest of 2006

EmacsWiki: EmacsAndLife

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

PRESS RELEASE Panasonic Kicks Off Neuter Your Bunny

PRESS RELEASE Panasonic Kicks Off Neuter Your Bunny

Today (June 14) is Neuter Your Bunny Day.

Think Progress » Coulter on 9/11 Widows: ‘I Have Never Seen People Enjoying their Husbands’ Death So Much’

Think Progress » Coulter on 9/11 Widows: ‘I Have Never Seen People Enjoying their Husbands’ Death So Much’

The dog that barked

Uh-oh. When I came home from work Monday night, Marley barked. It was just a single "Woof," but a telling one. Marley hadn't barked at me for several years. Back then, and now, I'd go in to work early and staying late.

Our need for longer work days is quite real. I have something like 10 books due by the end of July, including two by the end of this month. They aren't big books, but they're challenging. We have a demanding customer. Each week, in one forum or another, we have conference calls where we learn how the customer wants more documentation with greater technical depth and, oh, by the way, can you also improve the stuff you released last year?

Nevertheless, every day I say, "I work hard, but this isn't hard work."

We've also moved our offices. The cubicles are nicer, larger, but it's still like being in an airplane for nine hours a day. The neighbors are close and idiosyncratic. My next door neighbor has a cold, sneezing, coughing, and blowing his nose in a manner that would keep the ships safe at sea. When I get to the office early, I can listen to a co-worker two aisles over play America the Beautiful on his computer. Someone has burnt toast for breakfast every day. I'm certain that I do things that attract the attention of my neighbors, so I don't get too torqued about my neighbors' quirks. I wouldn't mind, however, if the guy with the cold would take a few days off.

This move was simple; I just barely filled one moving box. At a previous job, I won the Pack Rat award for having the most boxes o' stuff, 17 or 18, I think.

Moving in the opposite direction for most technology companies, HP is eliminating the telecommuting option for some of its employees. There's no question that in-person meetings are helpful (witness the amount of traveling that I've done). Nevertheless, with broadband Internet, cell phones, instant messaging, and such, physical location matters little. For example, albeit a slightly screwy example, on short-notice, I had to join a late-day conference call. Sandra and I rode to work together. On the way home then, I listened to the conference call, with my dorky little earpiece and she could listen to her recorded book.

At a time in my life when most people, young and old, are calling me Sir, the pharmacy technician at the neighborhood drug store greets me by my first name and then checks to see how many prescriptions I have waiting for me.

Adam, Jennie, and Lily had come to the camp a couple of weeks ago to help us get the boat into the water. The boat guy had a few more things to do before the launching. He was an hour and half late and forgot some key parts. He did what he could and left, to return a few days later. Jennie observed that BG looked and acted like Otto from The Simpsons.

One Grande ChiliDogerino, hold the onions

You can tell right away that you're in Amherst, even if you ignore all of the ivy-covered buildings or the Rip-Van-Winkle-esque hippies in the natural foods store. It's the bumper stickers. It's the aging Toyota with Democratic campaign stickers from the last two state and national elections. (They all lost.) This year's winner was on the back of a small pickup truck:

Support the No Sheep Left Behind Act

It was raining heavily during the time that I was on campus, so I didn't see a lot of people. The people I did see, however, were white - alumni, spouses, and kids. I met one black campus police officer.

This was my annual return to campus during Reunion weekend. At one point, I'd make a day of it, visiting with professors, hanging out in the coffee shops, nosing through favorite bookstores. Most of those professors have since retired, although I did get a chance to chat with my religion professor. The coffee shops that aren't Starbuck's are gone. And books. I'll read a book again someday, for sure.

"A celebration of summer, with its sweet flavor of juicy sun-kissed blueberries baked to perfection in a buttery crust." That sounds nice, but it shouldn't be a description for my morning coffee. Last week, in our New York office, some samples of the blueberry coffee showed up. Some people said it was good, but I kept walking. I like chili dogs and I like lima beans, but I'm not going to put them in my coffee.

And, last night, I stopped into a store for a newspaper. A young man at the other counter requested two strawberry cigars, and not bubble gum cigars, either.

Woody and Marian have returned for a short stay. They'll go to the Cape to visit with their new grandsons. They have doctors' appointments this week and next and plan to return to the Island to prepare for summer visitors.

If the Grateful Dead decide to get the band together and call to ask if you'd like to be their keyboard player, tell 'em you're busy.

Before long, we'll have our iPods surgically implanted, with a USB jack in our navels and the ear buds grafted onto our tympanic membranes. Until then, we get this.

Footnote: the Blogger spell-checker didn't recognize the word Starbuck's and offered this instead:

(Strabismus is the medical term for cross-eyed.)

Doggie Dog

This week in New York, I've had meetings with J., one of our senior software architects. We're trying to clarify some of the processes associated with the way that we build and release our products. The fun part is that, along with writing the process manual, I have the chance to contribute some code. I'm a bit reticent, however, about telling my boss. Even though this is much needed work for the current release, I also have enough other work to drown a giraffe.

English is not the native language for this architect. His is a Yiddish/Russian accent, very pleasant to listen to. He speaks well and has good command of English, but idioms sometimes take him by surprise. In meetings that were addressing the competetive challenges ahead for our company, someone used the phrase, "It's a dog-eat-dog world." J. heard "Doggie Dog," which made no sense, nor did the rest of the meeting make sense because of that one odd phrase. He finally did ask another meeting-goer, who explained the phrase, enunciating clearly.

A few weeks ago, I received a letter informing me that I had achieved gold status in this hotel chain's frequent-stayer program. As a result of my elite rating, I now qualify for a gold-colored strip of paper that describes one of the amenities that I've been receiving all along. I just hadn't received the strip of paper before.

"Enjoy your sleep amenities," said the clerk when I'd completed the check-in process.

In a creepier occurrence, I tried to go down the stairway to leave the building by the back way. I'd been sitting all day and the walk down the stairs did me some good. I followed the emergency exit signs to the bottom. The door was jammed shut. I went back to the lobby and spoke to a clerk about this dangerous situation. He was more interested in letting me know that the other exit door was alarmed. I'll go back to the first stairwell today. If the door is not fixed, my next call will be to the city's building inspector.

Would you buy Reese's Peanut Butter Lip Balm? If you can't find it in your local stores, eBay can bring this magical palliative to your weary lips.

No Amnety: This picture has made its way around the Internet in the last few days. My first suspicion was that someone altered the picture with Photoshop or similar photo editing product. The site that's hosting the picture is the web site for The Republic, a newspaper in Columbus, Indiana. Access to the paper's archives are restricted to subscribers. I was able to get at letters to the editor, written the day after the photo was printed, indicating that the writers were seeing what we can see.

As I drove from my father's house to the camp recently, I passed by Ronnie's house. Ronnie moved to the midwest quite a while ago. I've lost track of what happened to his brother,
Jerry, and his parents. The large field next to Ronnie's house was our football field and baseball field. None of us went on to play sports in high school, so it was just a place for kids to have fun. The field now is on its way to becoming woods. I still see a field there.

Ronnie was a drummer, sometimes in rock-and-roll bands, more often in competitive drum corps. For his practice, he would play along with records. From his collection, I first heard the Yardbirds, playing "For Your Love," and the Shadows of Knight, playing a cover of a Van Morrison/Them tune, "Gloria."

So, in rock-and-roll bands in the 60s, we play Gloria and we played Louie Louie, by The Kingsmen. (As Bono would later explain it all, "All I got is a red guitar, three chords, and the truth.") What we lacked in talent we filled with earnestness. Anyway, as most of you know, Louie Louie was a controversial song in its time. Controversial because no one could understand a word of what the singer was singing. And, because no one could understand what he was singing, parents feared and kids hoped that the lyrics were dirty. Enter the FBI. Here are some of the files that the FBI collected about this venerable song. (Caution - some of the pages do contain language and descriptions that might be offensive.) Here are the real lyrics, according to the president of the record company. The FBI, with all the resources that the agency could bring, determined that it couldn't understand a word of what the singer was singing.

How do you tell a book club from a terrorist cell?

Lexington Herald-Leader | 05/25/2006 | How do you tell a book club from a terrorist cell? (via LinkFilter)

North by northeast, north by northwest, southwest, and east

Sandra and Krista went to PEI on Thursday. When our grandchildren turn 10, Sandra takes them on a trip to the Island. They fly out Boston early, stop over in Halifax (long enough for a massage at the terminal, and then take one short flight to Charlottetown, where Woody and Marian meet them.

Thursday night's meal was the Whim Inn at Poole's Corner. The waitress who served this hungry crew was the same one who served us five years ago. The rolls are so big that it would take an African swallow to carry them. The meals are straight down the alley and good. (I might, however, give the liver and onions a miss. When my mother served liver, as she often did, the cat and I had a special arrangement - I'd drop a piece of liver on the floor and he'd eat it.)

On Friday, Woody and Krista went to local fishing spot. Krista caught three large Rainbow trout and learned how to clean them. Those trout were Friday night's supper.

On Saturday they went to a cousin's for afternoon tea and then to the local church for their annual lobster supper. The small church collects more than $10,000 in less than four hours, not bad in a village of 400 people.

Between the meals, there was fun in every corner. Krista brought her piano music, so she, Marian, and Sandra played and sang for a long time. There were card games, Monopoly, walks on the beach to collect shells. Woody and Marian are lovingly generous with their gifts and attention.

Sunday morning, on the 50km drive from Cardigan to the Charlottetown airport, they didn't pass a car. Sandra and Krista this time flew from Charlottetown to Toronto. After navigating the massive Pearson Airport, they went through U.S. customs, and then learned that the airline didn't have a pilot for the plane. When Sandra called me with this news, I went to the Massport (Boston) web site and signed up for flight notifications. The would send me email when the flight was rescheduled and when it would land. An hour and a half after we'd left Logan Airport and were in Mike and Lynn's back yard, I got an email saying that the plane had landed.

Just as Sandra and Krista were arriving in Charlottetown on Thursday, one of the storied shopping attractions was closing.

Dell had an insert in the Sunday papers. They offered a range of deals for household and business use. One system, the Optiplex^TM GX520 Desktop for $599. Below the price was this mind-twizzler:

Dual-core capable business desktop; features managed transitions and average 15-month life cycles.

I know what dual-core means, but managed transitions has me baffled and 15-month life cycles, if it's what I think it is (replace this machine every 15 months) is absolutely goofy. Whatever it means, Strunk and White surrender.

So, it's back to work after a restful long weekend. I can't imagine that this week can be more bizarre than last, but I couldn't imagine last week, either. One snippet - I was part of team from our company and a customer, working on a design document. We had a six and one-half hour conference call on Thursday. And the end of the meeting, around 4:30, one of the engineers said that she had some more information for me and would send it within the hour. At 6:15, she calls to say that she had been side-tracked on some other issues. "I wasn't able to get my work done," she said. "You'll still be able to have your work done by nine in the morning, won't you?"

We have lilies of the valley along the back corner of the MacGregors' part of the house. The fragrance is strong and sweet. Even a handful of blossoms will fill a room.

The weekend was restful, but also somber, of course, as we remember those who died in service and those who died as the result of their service.

Fine is the day that is with us

Our yard has provided a steady supply of flowers, in spite of the heavy rain that crumpled flowers in other parts of the state. Sandra has put tulips and now lilacs on the table by the window in the family room, where we have our meals. The lilacs, white, have a rich, sweet smell.

We'll try again today to get the water on at the camp and to get the boat in the water. We will have four generations of Hakkarainens, plus Andy, the boat guy. (When Andy isn't working on boats, cars, or other vehicles, he's selling a bug repellent called Andy's Bug Juice.)

One of the fundamental laws of the camp is that, at some point, you'll need something that's at the other place. Last week, we needed the set of locking pliers that are in the cupboard at home. (We might have used one of these.) My father has a chain wrench that would have done the job, but his was at his house. Adam had the right wrenches also, and also at his house. This week, we'll have three of the right tools and will need something else.

Camp fare, as you might expect, tends toward the simpler choices. Our favorite supper is eggs and beans. We'll have hot dogs for lunch. HJ Heinz, ever on the cutting edge of cuisine, is test-marketing a new frozen-food delicacy - beans on toast. Pop it in the toaster and, a minute later, you have, well, you have beans on toast, a nice side dish, perhaps, for a gummi t-bone steak.

During a discussion in the North Carolina legislature regarding ethics and how much money can legislators can receive from whom, one representative put everything in perspective. "Even the baby Jesus accepted gifts, and I don't think it corrupted him," said Rep. Drew Saunders, a Mecklenburg County Democrat.

There's a good chance for more rain tomorrow. So, to keep the kids entertained, it's a good idea to have coloring books on hand, such as Tommy Tsunami and Ernie Earthquake Coloring Book.

The summer forecast in Britain isn't good. Those lovely English roses won't do well when it starts raining frogs and fishes.

Until the showers or the BFOs (Bizarre Falling Objects), we'll enjoy this sunny day. The rain or jellyfish or coal will find us soon enough. Even if they do, we'll be ok.

Happy Anniversary, Sandra. We still got it.

Bulletin. Bulletin. Bulletin

Ananova - Today is happiest day of the year
(via Dave Barry's blog)

Remember when you sang "Rain, rain, go away"?

This is that other day. Rain came today. And yesterday. Most of the days in the coming week will be that other day, too. Let's stop singing that song for a while and let the rain catch up with itself.

There is an Outback Steakhouse across the street from hotel where I stay in New York. This week they had a large sign over the main entrance, letting all the children know that Outback would be open at 11AM on Mother's Day. Think Mom would like the 22 oz. Porterhouse steak. After all, "it's a bonzer." Oh, and don't forget the Bloomin' Onion^® - 800 calories and 56 grams of fat goodness.

It's hard to get Mother's Day right. Other holidays, such as Christmas and birthdays, have their own challenges, but Mother's Day is something special. Could I have been a better kid? Could I be one now? How would she like to celebrate the day, particularly when she says, "What ever you do is fine, dear."? Sometimes, flowers and a card work very nicely. Sometimes, it's appropriate to champion large causes.) Sometimes, the mother just wants a nap. At day's end, as my mother's friend would say, "We do the best what we are."

"Beat your swords into ploughshares and your vacuum cleaners into lights."

This might work, as long as your mother doesn't know your handwriting.

Yesterday Adam, Jennie, and Lilly met us at the camp. The original plan was that Adam would bring his truck and help get the boat into the water. But, the guy who was unwinterizing (summerize?) the boat couldn't finish his work in the heavy rain. (We'll try again next weekend.) Adam and I had plenty of work to do anyway. Our mission was to turn on the water. Sometimes, it's a task that takes an hour, sometimes it takes three. This year it was three and it's still not done.

The hose that draws water from the lake has a leak where we join two sections of hose with a PVC union. Either it is operator error where the operator (yours truly) cross-threaded the connection or the rubber gasket inside the union is worn or torn. When we take the union apart to inspect it, all of the water will drain out of the water tank. We'll have to prime the pump again next weekend.

In addition, we were having a heck of a time figuring out why the water system wasn't keeping its pressure. After retracing the lines, Adam discovered that a section of plastic pipe in our nearly new toilet had water trapped in it last fall. The water froze, splitting the pipe. We could get a replacement part, but what good is it to replace a badly designed part with another. This one, as my father says, needs some pondering.

It was fun to work with Adam. There isn't a lot I can teach him about home maintenance, but this was one area were I had something to offer. He made a good suggestion about installing a ground-fault breaker on the outlet where we plug in the water pump. Just because I've always done this work while standing barefoot on a wet floor doesn't mean that it's always been a good idea.

Once we got the water system to a known state, I had a chance to visit with Jennie and Lily. Lily and I had a nice conversation about her idea to paint Marley's toenails red and why that might not be a good idea.

We'll go to Mike and Lynn's this afternoon, arriving with pizza and gratitude. This will be the third time that we've been over there recently. Last Sunday was the party for Tess's first communion. Thursday night was her birthday. We keep showing up and they keep acting like they're glad to see us. What a kick.

Gone like a cool breeze

I have three scheduled meetings today and a couple of people I hope to see, but haven't made appointments yet. I'll be out of here by three so I can get home in time for a birthday party.

Last night's Red Sox/Yankees game was broadcast on ESPN. Because the Yankees have their own cable channel with exclusive rights to broadcasts in this area, ESPN was blocked in the hotel room.

In 1990 or so, Terry Bisson wrote a short story for the now-defunct Omni magazine. The story, "They're Made Out of Meat," describes how visitors from another planet are shocked when they learn that our computers (us) are made out of meat. "ThatÂ’s ridiculous. How can meat make a machine?" The story is now a seven-minute video, well worth the time to watch it.

Next stop in the Quiz Department: by looking at pictures, can you tell who invented a computer programming language and who is a serial killer? Here's the test. My score? Eight of 10.

IBM has come a long way from the white shirt and tie days, but it still draws the line regarding appearance. For example, it appears that IBM didn't like this guy's pink hair.

It looks as though 911 is out of service. (via) Do we call 912?

In 2002 a beagle named Woodsie was trapped in a culvert for nearly a day and half. Mike was part of the rescue team. At Tess's first communion party, we saw Woodsie's family. The dog is still doing fine. Last month, a dog in Texas was trapped in a pipe. Here's the story (via). Huskies avoid open water, even when in temperate climes, because their arctic instincts tell them falling into the water can mean death. (At least one reader of this journal used to train huskies; he may be able to elaborate on that.) You'd think that other breeds of dogs might have figured out that pipes are not their friends.

While on a business trip in 1998, I was driving on U.S. Route 101 in Santa Clara, California, when I received a call on my cell phone from Sandra. She told me that we had a new granddaughter, named Tess Mary.

Happy 8th Birthday, Tess.

Where there's smoke, there's Huck.

My father usually parks his car in his garage. The best way to know that he's home is by the smoke coming from the chimney. Nine or 10 months of the year, there's a fire in the stove when he's home.

When we visited him on Sunday, he mentioned that he had borrowed our pole saw from the camp. There were some limbs along his property's edge that were getting in the way of the wood delivery truck. We can all be very grateful that he chose to borrow the pole saw rather than getting up on a ladder with his chain saw.

We are working with a lot of people for whom English is not their native language. Sometimes there are idioms that are particular to American culture, as well as to the language. Earlier this week, I made a joking response to an email sent by a QA engineer from Turkey. She was worried that her original note wasn't clear. I reassured her that her message was very clear, but that my sense of humor is the thing that isn't clear. I apologized and hope that she's ok.

But, Americanisms march on. When I bough my lunch the other day, the cashier forgot to ring up one item. "My bad," she said in her rather thick Arabic accent.

On the way to New York, the exit numbers go like this:

33 - 31 - 29 - 28 - 27 - 29 - 28 - 27 - 26

I think that the Connecticut-New York state line is between exits 27 and 29.

On the way down, I stopped at Staples to pick up a couple of things. A very nice man helped me find what I needed. Then, he said, "If you need more help, I can ask one of the other guys."

Two jobs of note showed up in my automated searches for a technical documentation job. (I'm still not looking, but it's fun to see what shows up.) In both cases, they were looking for a detail-oriented writer. To paraphrase Chuck Berry, it must have been some otherbody. It isn't me.

• Diesel Mobile Mechanic.Pays attention to detail. Approaches work in a meticulous and thorough manner.


• US-OR-Portland-Detailed Technical Writer Position. (This was removed from the job site by the time I was able to get to it.)
  

The Red Sox were get a lot of coverage here, although it was rather glum after last night's pounding of the Pinstripes. The TV in the hotel room doesn't carry the Yankees channel, but the bar does. I let my co-workers report on the game this morning.

I didn't make this up, nor did I write any of it. (This page is ok, but some of the other links and pages may not, nay, are not safe for work.)

Happy Anniversary, Adam and Jennie.

Here they are

Edward Scott Dias MacGregor on the left.
Phillip Duncan Dias MacGregor on the right

Thanks to Aunt Barbara for the pictures.

Dept. of Corrections

In today's earlier post, I had incorrectly named Scott and Val's new sons. The boys' names are Charles and Scott.

Birthdays abound

Today we'll go to Tess's first communion today. Mike says that 100 people will be coming to the party afterwards.

The fence around our yard is in serious need of repair or replacement. We asked a local fence company to give us an estimate, which arrived on Friday. This morning, as I was preparing to pay this week's bills, I saw Marley walking through the neighbor's yard Yes, it's time to fix the fence.

If you work in a bank and someone tries to deposit a $25 million check, try to be a little suspicious, ok?

Michael Francis and I had an instant message chat as we tried to track down a book for a critique that he was writing. Because of copyright laws, it wasn't possible to find a copy of the book on the web. (He has already read the book and has the report written, but just needs a couple of quotes.)

Lost in the brouhaha about whether it's appropriate or not to sing the national anthem in Spanish is the basic fact that the tune is unsingable. My personal preference would be Woody Guthrie's This Land Is Your Land. His son, Arlo, has some definite and differing ideas on that. Arlo says that if it becomes the national anthem, we won't be able to have as much fun changing the verses when we want and need to.

More about the national anthem at Scott McLellan's press briefing.

"Q Scott, I wonder -- on Friday, the President firmly said he believes the National Anthem should be sung in English. Kevin Phillips, the Republican analyst, wrote a book called American Dynasty, and in there he claims that during the President's 2000 campaign, he did sing the Star Spangled Banner in Spanish at some Hispanic festivals, various campaign events. Are you aware, do you recall that from the 2000 campaign?

MR. McCLELLAN: No, I don't.

Q Do you think that that would be counter to what the President laid out on Friday?

MR. McCLELLAN: I don't recall that, and I'm not going to try to speculate on something I haven't looked into."

We saw two Baltimore orioles (the birds, not the baseball players) snacking on the blossoms on our apple tree. Beautiful birds.

Congratulation to Val and Scott on the birth of their sons, Phillip and Scott.

Happy Birthday, TJL