Sonoma is small, elegant restaurant tucked in a small, undistinguished strip mall just over the town line in Princeton, Mass. It's a fine place for a special dinner. Sandra and I went there last night to celebrate her birthday. We had just finished our starter courses when, outside, a thunderstorm was unloading noise and lightning and rain. We asked our server if they'd ever lost power while serving dinner. She said that it had happened once a long time ago, just after a number of meals had been served.
Sandra had the lamb and I had ahi tuna. Both came with colorful and tasty sides of mushrooms, root vegetables (beets, potatoes, carrots, turnip), and a flavorful risoto. We were glad that we had a few minutes to see our food because, in a short while, the power flickered once, came back, and then went out for good. (I don't remember the exact number, but a hardware engineer told me that if the power is out for more than about seven seconds, it's going to be out for a long time. It takes about seven seconds for a circuit breaker to reset itself. If the reset doesn't work, then a repair crew needs to fix it.) The staff brought extra candles to the tables and we ate in the dim light. Even the whispers of "What am I eating?" didn't diminish the romantic mood.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
On a special day
The temperature just stepped over the 90° mark. The wicker rocking chairs on the front porch are, um, rocking in the strong breeze. Heavy thunderstorms are predicted for this afternoon and evening, but the radar shows nothing right now. It's quiet here, just the low hum of the room air conditioner.
I'm working from home today. I have a number of tasks that can be done at home just as well as in the office. With vacations during this month, several of the regularly scheduled meetings have been called off. I finished one bit of tidying up and am now taking a break for lunch.
Yesterday I learned of a permanent job at the company where I'm working. The job is with a group in White Plains, but they seem to be amenable to having someone working from afar. I've started my resume through the channels. In the meantime, I guess I should keep working as though I have a permanent job. A co-worker asked me if I'd be interested if I'd like to participate in a project that will take place in October. I said that I would if my contract is extended. She said that my contract would probably last long enough for me to retire.
How grateful I am that I don't travel this world of work, of home, of family, or of life, alone. Happy Birthday, Sandra.
I'm working from home today. I have a number of tasks that can be done at home just as well as in the office. With vacations during this month, several of the regularly scheduled meetings have been called off. I finished one bit of tidying up and am now taking a break for lunch.
Yesterday I learned of a permanent job at the company where I'm working. The job is with a group in White Plains, but they seem to be amenable to having someone working from afar. I've started my resume through the channels. In the meantime, I guess I should keep working as though I have a permanent job. A co-worker asked me if I'd be interested if I'd like to participate in a project that will take place in October. I said that I would if my contract is extended. She said that my contract would probably last long enough for me to retire.
How grateful I am that I don't travel this world of work, of home, of family, or of life, alone. Happy Birthday, Sandra.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Alt-Tab, the boss is coming
Today, it's back to whatever passes for normal. I have a good bit of work work to address, along with some more personal business, so it's going to be a busy day. In the discussion of the report about goofing off at work, mentioned here a couple of weeks ago, a TV commentator noted the concept of the at-work personal day. Often, we're starting work earlier and staying later, such that we need time during the work day to get the stuff done that we can't get done at home - banking, web-based shopping, calls to the plumber, personal correspondence. I'm in the process of moving from one web hosting company to another and need a chunk of time to complete the task.
[The subject line refers to the trick of switching between programs, such as between your web browser and word processor, by pressing the Alt and Tab keys at the same time. That way, you can look like you're working when you've just been making your way through the American Girl web site for a birthday gift for your niece.]
Construction is underway for the new road at the camp. Many trees are down, bringing bright sunlight into the back of the camp. The contractor could very well have the work completed by the of this week. Adam and Lily spent the night at the camp on Saturday. Mike and Lynn will take the family to there for supper and swim this afternoon. It's good that the place is getting use.
My father's back is still bothering him from his fall last week. I went to his house to mow his lawn. He sat on the front steps and watched while I mowed. After a few minutes, he came over and pointed out a couple of things that I wasn't doing quite right. He went back to his observation post for a while longer and then, either satisfied or resigned, went inside.
Today's automated search for technical documentation jobs turned up listings for Gap Store Director, VP of Edication (their typo, not mine), Catering Manager, and Java Jedi.
Congratulations and a dose of virtual Vitamin I to friend Tania for completing the 2005 Ford Ironman USA in Lake Placid yesterday.
[The subject line refers to the trick of switching between programs, such as between your web browser and word processor, by pressing the Alt and Tab keys at the same time. That way, you can look like you're working when you've just been making your way through the American Girl web site for a birthday gift for your niece.]
Construction is underway for the new road at the camp. Many trees are down, bringing bright sunlight into the back of the camp. The contractor could very well have the work completed by the of this week. Adam and Lily spent the night at the camp on Saturday. Mike and Lynn will take the family to there for supper and swim this afternoon. It's good that the place is getting use.
My father's back is still bothering him from his fall last week. I went to his house to mow his lawn. He sat on the front steps and watched while I mowed. After a few minutes, he came over and pointed out a couple of things that I wasn't doing quite right. He went back to his observation post for a while longer and then, either satisfied or resigned, went inside.
Today's automated search for technical documentation jobs turned up listings for Gap Store Director, VP of Edication (their typo, not mine), Catering Manager, and Java Jedi.
Congratulations and a dose of virtual Vitamin I to friend Tania for completing the 2005 Ford Ironman USA in Lake Placid yesterday.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Home again
The guy at the sub shop was good-natured when I tried to pay for my order with a Canadian $20. I mumbled tiredly that we were just getting back from Canada and that my money was mixed up in my wallet. The guy was good-natured and said nice things about his trips to Canada, but still stood there waiting for American money.
The vist to the Island was brief, but delightful. Sandra's parents are wonderfully warm and generous. We talked about family and friends and the tragedies abroad.
Sandra's parents rose to prepare us breakfast and see us off. Our trip back started before dawn, with fog stretching across the farm fields. We saw shots of lightning across the Island, drove through heavy rain and some strong wind on the bridge, and reached sunshine just outside of Moncton mid-morning. It was sunny and fresh the rest of the way. There's a wildlife preserve near Calais, Maine, where we saw baby eagles sitting in their nests, getting ready for their first flights.
Gasoline prices huddle around the C$1.00/litre, about US$3.00/gallon. Prices are bit lower on PEI because the prices are changed just once a month and so lag behind the general market.
As if we needed more reminders that the flatlanders rule U.S. 1 in Maine, we saw an old farm house converted into a bakery and espresso bar.
On the way home we paid a long-overdue visit to our dear friends, Pete and Mildred, in Maine. In our honor, Pete had arranged the delivery of a new lime and fertilizer composite which he had dumped on the hay field on the approach to their old farm house.
We listened to the rest of 1776 and discussed the improbability that the Americans would have won Revolutionary War. The year 1776 hadn't gone very well at all, with the loss of New York and large numbers of people signing oaths to the King. As with other recent histories of those times, the founders of this nation were keenly aware that what they were doing and saying was shaping the future. They were establishing something bigger than even they could imagine. Sandra and I listened to this history as we drove through the places where many loyalists had landed in southwestern New Brunswick.
One afternoon, while Sandra and Marian went visiting, I walked around downtown Montague. This town of a few thousand people improbably supports two large supermarkets, a car dealership, several other large, and many other small businesses. At the center of it all, of course, is the Tim Horton's shop on Main Street. I learned there that another building on Main Street was sold for $300,000 and that the local MLA had arranged for a new federal building to be built on that site. "The old boy network pays off again," remarked one of the patron.
To bring it to a decent size, the local phone book for the east end of PEI includes a reverse listing (by phone number) as well as the traditional listing by name.
Marley, who's looking fit and trim and is having a great summer, gave us quite a scare. After supper one night, he and I went for a walk to the shore. I'll skip the full details, but he became suddenly and severely sick accented with convulsions. After a few minutes, he crawled underneath a thick spruce hedge where he stayed, with labored breathing. We thought we were going to lose him. I was able to drag him from the hedge. As we prepared to get him to vet's, he rallied, stirring a bit and eventually gettting to his feet. He was quiet for the rest of the evening and into the next day, but was otherwise alright, eating his breakfast when the time came. Our best guess, based only on the fact that it makes a better story, is that he ate one of the small jellyfish that drift along near the shore.
The vist to the Island was brief, but delightful. Sandra's parents are wonderfully warm and generous. We talked about family and friends and the tragedies abroad.
Sandra's parents rose to prepare us breakfast and see us off. Our trip back started before dawn, with fog stretching across the farm fields. We saw shots of lightning across the Island, drove through heavy rain and some strong wind on the bridge, and reached sunshine just outside of Moncton mid-morning. It was sunny and fresh the rest of the way. There's a wildlife preserve near Calais, Maine, where we saw baby eagles sitting in their nests, getting ready for their first flights.
Gasoline prices huddle around the C$1.00/litre, about US$3.00/gallon. Prices are bit lower on PEI because the prices are changed just once a month and so lag behind the general market.
As if we needed more reminders that the flatlanders rule U.S. 1 in Maine, we saw an old farm house converted into a bakery and espresso bar.
On the way home we paid a long-overdue visit to our dear friends, Pete and Mildred, in Maine. In our honor, Pete had arranged the delivery of a new lime and fertilizer composite which he had dumped on the hay field on the approach to their old farm house.
We listened to the rest of 1776 and discussed the improbability that the Americans would have won Revolutionary War. The year 1776 hadn't gone very well at all, with the loss of New York and large numbers of people signing oaths to the King. As with other recent histories of those times, the founders of this nation were keenly aware that what they were doing and saying was shaping the future. They were establishing something bigger than even they could imagine. Sandra and I listened to this history as we drove through the places where many loyalists had landed in southwestern New Brunswick.
One afternoon, while Sandra and Marian went visiting, I walked around downtown Montague. This town of a few thousand people improbably supports two large supermarkets, a car dealership, several other large, and many other small businesses. At the center of it all, of course, is the Tim Horton's shop on Main Street. I learned there that another building on Main Street was sold for $300,000 and that the local MLA had arranged for a new federal building to be built on that site. "The old boy network pays off again," remarked one of the patron.
To bring it to a decent size, the local phone book for the east end of PEI includes a reverse listing (by phone number) as well as the traditional listing by name.
Marley, who's looking fit and trim and is having a great summer, gave us quite a scare. After supper one night, he and I went for a walk to the shore. I'll skip the full details, but he became suddenly and severely sick accented with convulsions. After a few minutes, he crawled underneath a thick spruce hedge where he stayed, with labored breathing. We thought we were going to lose him. I was able to drag him from the hedge. As we prepared to get him to vet's, he rallied, stirring a bit and eventually gettting to his feet. He was quiet for the rest of the evening and into the next day, but was otherwise alright, eating his breakfast when the time came. Our best guess, based only on the fact that it makes a better story, is that he ate one of the small jellyfish that drift along near the shore.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
We leave at first light
The car is packed, save for the Thermos bottles of coffee and our toothbrushes. We'll leave at 4:30. When Woody was a boy, the trip to PEI would take three days. Now, anything over 12 hours for the 650 mile trek is regarded as dawdling.
We have one recorded book, David McCullough's 1776, and my iPod for some music. The sandwiches are packed (pb&j). We have apple and raisins for snacks and water. We plan to stop no more than three times - the first rest area on the Maine Turnpike, at the Border to fill up on American petrol, and in Sussex NB.
Did you know that USB key chain drives can withstand a washer cycle?
We have one recorded book, David McCullough's 1776, and my iPod for some music. The sandwiches are packed (pb&j). We have apple and raisins for snacks and water. We plan to stop no more than three times - the first rest area on the Maine Turnpike, at the Border to fill up on American petrol, and in Sussex NB.
Did you know that USB key chain drives can withstand a washer cycle?
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
RoasterBoy in the wilderness
This is the first RoasterBoy post from the camp. The telephone installer completed his work a few minutes ago and left behind a copper wire that connects us to the great net.
Progress sometimes comes unexpectedly on the shoulders of a somewhat unrelated event. For example, the 19th-century road graders ledt to smooth roads and allowed for reliable mail service that led to mail-order services such as Sears and Roebucks. This camp received its electrical service as a reseulf to the New Deal's Rural Electrification project. Those poles made it affordable for us to install a telephone. Our thanks to FDR, then, for this connection.
It's warm and sticky and there's barely a breeze. I might have time for a quick swim before leave to I check in my father and then go back home. He seems to be doing ok. I'll change the bandages on his arm. He's to go to doctor's office to have them changed on Thursday.
Postings will be infrequent, if at all, for the next few days. We're going to PEI to visit with Woody and Marian and Marley. We hope to see our friends, Pete and Mildred, on the way home. I may be online for a bit while I do some work on MRM's computer.
Progress sometimes comes unexpectedly on the shoulders of a somewhat unrelated event. For example, the 19th-century road graders ledt to smooth roads and allowed for reliable mail service that led to mail-order services such as Sears and Roebucks. This camp received its electrical service as a reseulf to the New Deal's Rural Electrification project. Those poles made it affordable for us to install a telephone. Our thanks to FDR, then, for this connection.
It's warm and sticky and there's barely a breeze. I might have time for a quick swim before leave to I check in my father and then go back home. He seems to be doing ok. I'll change the bandages on his arm. He's to go to doctor's office to have them changed on Thursday.
Postings will be infrequent, if at all, for the next few days. We're going to PEI to visit with Woody and Marian and Marley. We hope to see our friends, Pete and Mildred, on the way home. I may be online for a bit while I do some work on MRM's computer.
Monday, July 18, 2005
And that's why we call them patients
It was a step he'd made many thousands of times, from the boathouse to the ground. This time, though, with the ground softened by so much rain, he didn't slip so much as he lost his balance. He fell backwards, between the boathouse and the little stone wall at the back of the flowerbed. Naturally, I was most concerned when my father hit his head, but that turned out to be a lesser bruise. He said his arm was uncomfortable. He'd hit that against the stones, too.
We went up to the camp and cut away the sleeve of his sweatshirt to reveal an arm that looked like it had met up with a dull and determined potato peeler. He agreed that a doctor should see it. He wanted, however, to have coffee first. And we did. So, 20 minutes later, we drove to one of the community hospitals in the area.
(The insurance companies have us pretty well trained. We don't ask ourselves, "What's the nearest hospital?" We ask, "What's the nearest hospital that's a member of my insurance plan?")
The medical staff was pleasant, professional, never giving the impression that they were terribly understaffed. The waiting room was full to overflowing during the time that we were there. There was only one doctor in the ER. The triage nurse examined my father as soon as we arrived and put some bandages on the wounds. It would two hours before we would get inside the ER. Then, treatment was thorough, but slow, another three hours. He received a tetanus shot which lasts for another 5-10 years. It wouldn't surprise me if he got another one then.
So, he's home now with no further treatment other that change the dressings daily and respect the law of gravity. I'll check in with him by phone today and in person tomorrow.
I'm glad that we went, but if we knew that it was going to take five hours, we probably wouldn't have gone.
We went up to the camp and cut away the sleeve of his sweatshirt to reveal an arm that looked like it had met up with a dull and determined potato peeler. He agreed that a doctor should see it. He wanted, however, to have coffee first. And we did. So, 20 minutes later, we drove to one of the community hospitals in the area.
(The insurance companies have us pretty well trained. We don't ask ourselves, "What's the nearest hospital?" We ask, "What's the nearest hospital that's a member of my insurance plan?")
The medical staff was pleasant, professional, never giving the impression that they were terribly understaffed. The waiting room was full to overflowing during the time that we were there. There was only one doctor in the ER. The triage nurse examined my father as soon as we arrived and put some bandages on the wounds. It would two hours before we would get inside the ER. Then, treatment was thorough, but slow, another three hours. He received a tetanus shot which lasts for another 5-10 years. It wouldn't surprise me if he got another one then.
So, he's home now with no further treatment other that change the dressings daily and respect the law of gravity. I'll check in with him by phone today and in person tomorrow.
I'm glad that we went, but if we knew that it was going to take five hours, we probably wouldn't have gone.
Friday, July 15, 2005
"Hello, World" redux
One of the women with whom I work is retiring next week. She and her husband have built a retirement home in New Hampshire. She's the second person to leave the group, both voluntarily, in the time that I've been there. The other person transferred to another group with an office closer to her home. I picked up one of the retiree's assignments, that of managing the software upgrades for the servers that we use for our testing. She's very energetic and out-going. So, retiring she is and retiring she isn't.
Through a professional society, I am able to obtain a discount on long-term disability insurance. The cost is surprisingly modest for the quality of coverage.
If you're using the Firefox browser, there's a nifty new extension that lets you send a text message to any cell phone directly from the browser. Give it a try if you're using Firefox and you have my cell phone number. BTW, Firefox 1.0.5 is available. This is a bug-fix release. Version 1.1 is nearing beta.
I'm in the process of moving my QueenLake domains (.com, .net, and .org) to a new hosting company. There are many safeguards that are designed to prevent domain hijacking. They also make it difficult for a legitimate owner to make a change. If the next step goes well, I should be on my new server by early next week. I don't expect that there will be any changes visible to the readers of these notes.
Not long ago, a former co-worker had hear bypass surgery at Massachusetts General Hospital. One of his biggest complaints was that the hospital didn't have Internet access for the patients. Which is interesting, because Children's Hospital, across town, is among the 100 most wired hospitals in the country. For more reasons that one, sometimes it doesn't pay to grow up.
As I've mentioned before, because I am not a programmer by trade, I am easily confused when I move between programming languages . 'Hello, World' is usually the first, small program that a person would write when learning a new language. This page shows how various languages would handle this simple task.
Through a professional society, I am able to obtain a discount on long-term disability insurance. The cost is surprisingly modest for the quality of coverage.
If you're using the Firefox browser, there's a nifty new extension that lets you send a text message to any cell phone directly from the browser. Give it a try if you're using Firefox and you have my cell phone number. BTW, Firefox 1.0.5 is available. This is a bug-fix release. Version 1.1 is nearing beta.
I'm in the process of moving my QueenLake domains (.com, .net, and .org) to a new hosting company. There are many safeguards that are designed to prevent domain hijacking. They also make it difficult for a legitimate owner to make a change. If the next step goes well, I should be on my new server by early next week. I don't expect that there will be any changes visible to the readers of these notes.
Not long ago, a former co-worker had hear bypass surgery at Massachusetts General Hospital. One of his biggest complaints was that the hospital didn't have Internet access for the patients. Which is interesting, because Children's Hospital, across town, is among the 100 most wired hospitals in the country. For more reasons that one, sometimes it doesn't pay to grow up.
As I've mentioned before, because I am not a programmer by trade, I am easily confused when I move between programming languages . 'Hello, World' is usually the first, small program that a person would write when learning a new language. This page shows how various languages would handle this simple task.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Huck's stories - the well
From time to time, I'll record some of Huck's stories. My father is one of the best story-tellers around. His stories are good and he tells them well.
The camp sits on top of a small hill that's mostly ledge. In order to dig a well, my father and his friends had to use dynamite, much more easily obtained in the 1940s. There were several guys hanging around helping with the construction of the camp after WW II, members of the 52-20 club. The government was paying returning veterans $20 for 52 weeks. They dug as far as they could by hand and then drilled holes in the side of the well wall. They packed the holes with dynamite and attached blasting caps and wires. They put old cotton mattresses on top of the hole and laid heavy chains on top of the mattresses to hold the broken rock in after the explosion. Using a car battery, they set off the charge. Seconds later, the trees were filled with cotton stuffing.
My father went into the well with a sledgehammer to continue breaking up the rubble. After hammering for a while, he discovered (insert sound of blood draining from face) that one of the sticks of dynamite hadn't exploded. It was still in the well wall, blasting cap intact.
Thereafter, when they had to blast, they would only put one stick of dynamite in at a time so that they knew if it had exploded or not.
The camp sits on top of a small hill that's mostly ledge. In order to dig a well, my father and his friends had to use dynamite, much more easily obtained in the 1940s. There were several guys hanging around helping with the construction of the camp after WW II, members of the 52-20 club. The government was paying returning veterans $20 for 52 weeks. They dug as far as they could by hand and then drilled holes in the side of the well wall. They packed the holes with dynamite and attached blasting caps and wires. They put old cotton mattresses on top of the hole and laid heavy chains on top of the mattresses to hold the broken rock in after the explosion. Using a car battery, they set off the charge. Seconds later, the trees were filled with cotton stuffing.
My father went into the well with a sledgehammer to continue breaking up the rubble. After hammering for a while, he discovered (insert sound of blood draining from face) that one of the sticks of dynamite hadn't exploded. It was still in the well wall, blasting cap intact.
Thereafter, when they had to blast, they would only put one stick of dynamite in at a time so that they knew if it had exploded or not.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Stop reading this and get back to work
Some of the systems at work don't have solitaire installed at all or, if they do, it's installed in an obscure place. How do I know this, you ask? A study on salary.com reports that people goof off at work, that they goof off more than management and HR think that they goof off. I'm pretty respectful about separating work and personal business, taking and making personal phone calls on my cell phone, for example. I do read and write some personal email during the day and follow some news web sites. No, my time-wasting doesn't come from solitaire or www.nationalenquirer.com. My time-wasting results from spending a half day to write a script that automates a 10-minute, one-time task.
I watched the first few innings of the All-Star game last night. Manny didn't have a good night, but Johnny and David showed why baseball is fun in Boston.
Only Fox would have a new series called "The War at Home" start on September 11th.
My sleep has been particularly bad for the past couple of weeks, waking at 2 or 3, and sometimes earlier. I'm keeping a journal to record what changes in medication, diet, exercise, or stress affect my sleep or mood. So far I've been doing better than I should. I have a couple of project tasks due by the end of the day today, so I'll see how I do under a bit of pressure.
We gave this chain-saw sculpture,
made by friend John K., to my father for his birthday several years ago. We keep the cat at the camp. The mice, as we've seen, are not intimidated at all.
I watched the first few innings of the All-Star game last night. Manny didn't have a good night, but Johnny and David showed why baseball is fun in Boston.
Only Fox would have a new series called "The War at Home" start on September 11th.
My sleep has been particularly bad for the past couple of weeks, waking at 2 or 3, and sometimes earlier. I'm keeping a journal to record what changes in medication, diet, exercise, or stress affect my sleep or mood. So far I've been doing better than I should. I have a couple of project tasks due by the end of the day today, so I'll see how I do under a bit of pressure.
We gave this chain-saw sculpture,
made by friend John K., to my father for his birthday several years ago. We keep the cat at the camp. The mice, as we've seen, are not intimidated at all.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Working for wages for a year
Today marks a year in my current contract job. It's been the right job for me at this time. The work can be very interesting and the people are nice. For those who care about such things, yesterday I prepared a set of use cases in UML for a project meeting. That was something I'd learned in my previous job, but hadn't applied much. Here it's something new and exotic. I am, however, quite detached from most the politics and strategy of the business. I've done that and done that pretty well in previous jobs, but that's not what's needed now. Although my job title is technical writer, my work is mostly that of an engineer or technical analyst.
In the past year, I've come to think differently about work. At IBM, I thought quite a bit about career paths. At companies before that, companies that were growing, I was excited at the prospect of building something. Now, largely because my contract limits me to 40 hours per week, I just want to make sure that I'm giving good value for what I'm receiving. Long-range thinking is setting a project deadline for some time in a month or more.
Language grows, evolves, sheds dead skin. What was once radical is now sweet. But never underestimate the power of the business world to hijack language and make it do a nasty dance. This site, weaselwords, has one of my favorites: capacity release, meaning, get rid of people.
This would be a great name for a rock band, Deathwish Piano Movers, if they weren't already a company that, um, moves pianos. They've been in business for a long time and I've long liked their name.
Holden's population is a bit more than 15,000, a town large enough to have its share of drama. From a recent police log:
In the past year, I've come to think differently about work. At IBM, I thought quite a bit about career paths. At companies before that, companies that were growing, I was excited at the prospect of building something. Now, largely because my contract limits me to 40 hours per week, I just want to make sure that I'm giving good value for what I'm receiving. Long-range thinking is setting a project deadline for some time in a month or more.
Language grows, evolves, sheds dead skin. What was once radical is now sweet. But never underestimate the power of the business world to hijack language and make it do a nasty dance. This site, weaselwords, has one of my favorites: capacity release, meaning, get rid of people.
This would be a great name for a rock band, Deathwish Piano Movers, if they weren't already a company that, um, moves pianos. They've been in business for a long time and I've long liked their name.
Holden's population is a bit more than 15,000, a town large enough to have its share of drama. From a recent police log:
- Caller received copy of Telegram and Gazette in his drive without his permission; advised to call news paper to stop complimentary copies; caller says he will seek criminal complaint against paper.
- Female came into station with snake she found; assisted and discarded snake for her.
- Port-a-potty stolen from Eagle Lake.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Coffee for Buddha
Sandra occasionally has her nails done at a salon nearby. The salon is run by a Vietnamese woman with other Vietnamese women in her employ. They always greet Sandra warmly and are especially reverent to Sandra's mother. Each morning the owner brings a cup of coffee and places it before the status of Buddha that sits on a small shrine in the shop. Buddha likes coffee with milk.
And when we don't go to Buddha, we go to Google. You can use Google as a quick currency converter. For example, recently, we learned that a Canadian prescription cost about $C74. That translates to about $USD56 or so. More here on how to use it.
The first time you try it, you and your partner are apt to be clumsy, uncoordinated, and unexpectedly wet. Doubles kayaking isn't for everyone. We rented a twin kayak over the weekend and learned that, for a variety of reasons, that's not what we want.
My father may have a buyer for his sail boat. He was sad. As he was looking it over to prepare for the potential buyer, he inspected each of the pulleys, stays, and spreaders. He knew he could have spent all day tinkering with it, but finally just had to walk away. Even if Sandra and I agreed to take the boat and readied it for the water, it wouldn't change the fact that his sailing days are drawing to a close.
We attended the annual lake association meeting on Saturday morning. Sandra is assistant treasurer and I'm on the board of directors. Her job requires much more work than mine. Most of the discussion revolved around inappropriate and, in some cases, illegal, boating practices on the lake. (The ne'er-do-wells, of course, don't attend the meetings or don't speak in their defense.) The beavers keep plugging the dam. The police chief said a couple of times that, "the complexion of the town is changing."
There are lots of reasons that bring people to vegetarianism - religion, politics, health, preference, the after-effects of a trip to a meat or poultry processing facility, or any or all. Well, for those who don't eat meat because of the way that the meat industry treats its animals, here's something to thing about - lab-grown meat.
We have friends who don't particularly enjoy dairy products. They have their morning cereal with orange juice. I may try it, but will do so with a skeptic's palate.
Other than Karl who took over Mike's landscaping business, I can sometimes go for years without bumping into another Karl with a K. Here's the science: the relative popularity of baby names over the last 120 years.
Last week I mentioned that Google had invested in a company that was planning to deliver high-speed Internet access over power lines. News reports this morning indicate that IBM is moving into this area as well. In the meantime, we now have a POTS (plain old telephone service) line to the outside wall of the camp. We might be connected this week. Or not.
And when we don't go to Buddha, we go to Google. You can use Google as a quick currency converter. For example, recently, we learned that a Canadian prescription cost about $C74. That translates to about $USD56 or so. More here on how to use it.
The first time you try it, you and your partner are apt to be clumsy, uncoordinated, and unexpectedly wet. Doubles kayaking isn't for everyone. We rented a twin kayak over the weekend and learned that, for a variety of reasons, that's not what we want.
My father may have a buyer for his sail boat. He was sad. As he was looking it over to prepare for the potential buyer, he inspected each of the pulleys, stays, and spreaders. He knew he could have spent all day tinkering with it, but finally just had to walk away. Even if Sandra and I agreed to take the boat and readied it for the water, it wouldn't change the fact that his sailing days are drawing to a close.
We attended the annual lake association meeting on Saturday morning. Sandra is assistant treasurer and I'm on the board of directors. Her job requires much more work than mine. Most of the discussion revolved around inappropriate and, in some cases, illegal, boating practices on the lake. (The ne'er-do-wells, of course, don't attend the meetings or don't speak in their defense.) The beavers keep plugging the dam. The police chief said a couple of times that, "the complexion of the town is changing."
There are lots of reasons that bring people to vegetarianism - religion, politics, health, preference, the after-effects of a trip to a meat or poultry processing facility, or any or all. Well, for those who don't eat meat because of the way that the meat industry treats its animals, here's something to thing about - lab-grown meat.
We have friends who don't particularly enjoy dairy products. They have their morning cereal with orange juice. I may try it, but will do so with a skeptic's palate.
Other than Karl who took over Mike's landscaping business, I can sometimes go for years without bumping into another Karl with a K. Here's the science: the relative popularity of baby names over the last 120 years.
Last week I mentioned that Google had invested in a company that was planning to deliver high-speed Internet access over power lines. News reports this morning indicate that IBM is moving into this area as well. In the meantime, we now have a POTS (plain old telephone service) line to the outside wall of the camp. We might be connected this week. Or not.
Friday, July 08, 2005
What rough beast, indeed.
The Underground withstood the German onslaught, the tunnels deep and sheltered from the bombs. It mattered not that the escalators were made of wood and were a hazard for fire. The Underground helped Londoners win a war by wearing out their adversary. A new adversary, this time, turned the depth and strength of the Underground against the people, leaving no place for the destructive explosion to go but through the railroad cars.
I wasn't able to recite all of the lines from The Second Coming by Yeats, from which the title comes. So, I did a Google search for Slouching toward Bethlehem Yeats. The Google ads on the right side of the page showed several links for treatment of bad posture.
To quote Dave Barry, regarding 7/7, it's best that I leave the reporting to the real journalists. It's probably best for this blog to go back to doing what it does best. Whatever that is.
--
ZDNet is reporting that Google, among other companies, is investing in a company that delivers broadband of Internet access over power lines. I like this concept a lot because, unlike cable and like wireless, it offers the prospect of ubiquitous, networked computing.
Recently, we learned that a one-month supply of a commonly prescribed medicine that costs $C70 in Canada and, with an American HMO, $US15. Uninsured price in both places is about $US160.
In the meantime, a Canadian government panel is recommending that the Canadian government consider restrictions on the distributions of ibuprofen. Basically, they'd like to make sure that doctors and patients discuss the risks related to heart attacks before embarking on a Vitamin I regimen.
They say that it's Psalms 33:12. I say it's Exodus 3:5.
I wasn't able to recite all of the lines from The Second Coming by Yeats, from which the title comes. So, I did a Google search for Slouching toward Bethlehem Yeats. The Google ads on the right side of the page showed several links for treatment of bad posture.
To quote Dave Barry, regarding 7/7, it's best that I leave the reporting to the real journalists. It's probably best for this blog to go back to doing what it does best. Whatever that is.
--
ZDNet is reporting that Google, among other companies, is investing in a company that delivers broadband of Internet access over power lines. I like this concept a lot because, unlike cable and like wireless, it offers the prospect of ubiquitous, networked computing.
Recently, we learned that a one-month supply of a commonly prescribed medicine that costs $C70 in Canada and, with an American HMO, $US15. Uninsured price in both places is about $US160.
In the meantime, a Canadian government panel is recommending that the Canadian government consider restrictions on the distributions of ibuprofen. Basically, they'd like to make sure that doctors and patients discuss the risks related to heart attacks before embarking on a Vitamin I regimen.
They say that it's Psalms 33:12. I say it's Exodus 3:5.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Wired and wireless
I hadn't been in the Starbuck's in Worcester for several months. They've added electrical outlets. People who were using the wireless Internet access often had to share a single outlet to recharge their laptops.
On this date in 1896, the U.S. annexed Hawaii. Kona coffee, the only coffee grown in this country, is among the best in the world. It has the sweet acidity of the east African coffees (Kenyan, Moka). Adam and Jennie brought some Kona for us. It's often the case that the Kona available on the mainland isn't pure Kona, but Kona-style Kona-blend. The real stuff is expensive and rare. Thanks to A & J.
I am certainlyl not familiar with the many state and federal judges who would be qualified for the Supreme Court. One person came to mind as an interesting prospect - Senator Orrin Hatch, R-Utah. He is quite conservative; there's no doubt about that. But, he's a guy you can talk to. He and Ted Kennedy are buddies. Hatch is sharp and he understands the role of technology in society.
President Nixon nominated Harold Carswell to the Supreme Court. Carswell was a man of, ahem, modest intellect and abilities. Senator Roman Hruska, R-Nebraska, rose to Carswell's defense, declaring that, even if Carswell was mediocre, there were plenty of mediocre people in this country who needed representation.
In addition to these notes, I'm going to resume a journal to record my sleep patterns and what medications, vitamins, exercise, diet, and other goings-on. My sleep has been very irregular. My mood has generally been better during the last couple of weeks.
[The Blogger spellchecker offers 'strabismus' as an alternative to Starbuck's.]
On this date in 1896, the U.S. annexed Hawaii. Kona coffee, the only coffee grown in this country, is among the best in the world. It has the sweet acidity of the east African coffees (Kenyan, Moka). Adam and Jennie brought some Kona for us. It's often the case that the Kona available on the mainland isn't pure Kona, but Kona-style Kona-blend. The real stuff is expensive and rare. Thanks to A & J.
I am certainlyl not familiar with the many state and federal judges who would be qualified for the Supreme Court. One person came to mind as an interesting prospect - Senator Orrin Hatch, R-Utah. He is quite conservative; there's no doubt about that. But, he's a guy you can talk to. He and Ted Kennedy are buddies. Hatch is sharp and he understands the role of technology in society.
President Nixon nominated Harold Carswell to the Supreme Court. Carswell was a man of, ahem, modest intellect and abilities. Senator Roman Hruska, R-Nebraska, rose to Carswell's defense, declaring that, even if Carswell was mediocre, there were plenty of mediocre people in this country who needed representation.
In addition to these notes, I'm going to resume a journal to record my sleep patterns and what medications, vitamins, exercise, diet, and other goings-on. My sleep has been very irregular. My mood has generally been better during the last couple of weeks.
[The Blogger spellchecker offers 'strabismus' as an alternative to Starbuck's.]
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
If you hear bongos behind you, it's too late.
During the night, when there is no moon, the sound of bongo drums echo across Queen Lake. Years ago, the southeast side of the lake was a summer camp for girls from New York. There was a very mean sailing instructor named Herbert. Herbert would steal the kids' lunches, make them sail even when there were thunderstorms on the lake, and censor their letters when they wrote home to complain. Herbert was so mean that he smoked, even in his bunk, because everyone was afraid to tell him that he couldn't.
One weekend, the kids had collected fireworks for a Fourth of July celebration. Herbert found out about it and confiscated all the goods. "There will be no parties around here," he barked. He put all of the fireworks in his footlocker. The rest of the camp on the lake were shooting off their fireworks, but it was quiet at the camp as darkness settled in.
Herbert had one last cigarette, as he usually did, while lying on his bunk. This night, though, he fell asleep and the bed caught fire and then the foot locker. The fireworks exploded. Herbert was on fire. Screaming, he ran to the lake, his skin falling away. As soon as he hit the water, he met up with a great snapping turtle. He pushed the turtle out of its shell and made the shell his new skin.
Thereafter, he lived in the lake and, from time to time, would seek his revenge by capturing a camper and dragging the poor soul back into the dark waters. He would signal that he had caught his prey by reaching back and pounding on his shell, as though he was tapping on bongos.
Some years later, the camp closed and the property divided up for house lots. Still Herbert, now known among the lake residents as Bongo Boy, is restless. Over the weekend, we heard the sound of bongos at a camp across the cove.
Mike is taking Tess and Krista to the camp this evening, along with some friends. I wonder who will get the top bunk.
With apologies to Ira Glass, the Tappett Brothers, and campers everywhere
President Jacques Chirac was reported to have commented: "We can't trust people who have such bad food. After Finland, it's the country with the worst food". And the Finns, gnawing on a piece of reindeer jerky, are wondering why they're being dragged into an international row.
Our lake association meeting is scheduled for Saturday morning at 9AM. Sandra noticed in yesterday's paper that a funeral is scheduled in the church for 10AM. I suspect that we're in for a quick meeting. The biggest issue of past years, a pit bull at one of the camps on the lake, is no longer a problem. The dog is gone. The dog's owners continue to rent the camp. A couple of weeks ago, when we were on the canoe ride with Lily, we saw one of the residents having beer for breakfast while preparing for a day of fishing.
The new Coke Zero tastes like they collected the spray from a skunk that drank a bunch of Moxie.
A local NPR station, WBUR, often uses a Rolling Stones tunes, 2120 South Michigan Avenue, as its exit theme on its Morning Edition show. The address is the home of the old Chess studio in Chicago. We visited the place, which is privately owned now, on a trip to Chicago in the 1980s. The tune was also used as an outtro on WBCN by morning guy Mississippi Harold Wilson, aka Mississippi Fats. He's no longer in radio, instead running a restaurant in Roxbury, the primarily African-American part of Boston.
One weekend, the kids had collected fireworks for a Fourth of July celebration. Herbert found out about it and confiscated all the goods. "There will be no parties around here," he barked. He put all of the fireworks in his footlocker. The rest of the camp on the lake were shooting off their fireworks, but it was quiet at the camp as darkness settled in.
Herbert had one last cigarette, as he usually did, while lying on his bunk. This night, though, he fell asleep and the bed caught fire and then the foot locker. The fireworks exploded. Herbert was on fire. Screaming, he ran to the lake, his skin falling away. As soon as he hit the water, he met up with a great snapping turtle. He pushed the turtle out of its shell and made the shell his new skin.
Thereafter, he lived in the lake and, from time to time, would seek his revenge by capturing a camper and dragging the poor soul back into the dark waters. He would signal that he had caught his prey by reaching back and pounding on his shell, as though he was tapping on bongos.
Some years later, the camp closed and the property divided up for house lots. Still Herbert, now known among the lake residents as Bongo Boy, is restless. Over the weekend, we heard the sound of bongos at a camp across the cove.
Mike is taking Tess and Krista to the camp this evening, along with some friends. I wonder who will get the top bunk.
With apologies to Ira Glass, the Tappett Brothers, and campers everywhere
President Jacques Chirac was reported to have commented: "We can't trust people who have such bad food. After Finland, it's the country with the worst food". And the Finns, gnawing on a piece of reindeer jerky, are wondering why they're being dragged into an international row.
Our lake association meeting is scheduled for Saturday morning at 9AM. Sandra noticed in yesterday's paper that a funeral is scheduled in the church for 10AM. I suspect that we're in for a quick meeting. The biggest issue of past years, a pit bull at one of the camps on the lake, is no longer a problem. The dog is gone. The dog's owners continue to rent the camp. A couple of weeks ago, when we were on the canoe ride with Lily, we saw one of the residents having beer for breakfast while preparing for a day of fishing.
The new Coke Zero tastes like they collected the spray from a skunk that drank a bunch of Moxie.
A local NPR station, WBUR, often uses a Rolling Stones tunes, 2120 South Michigan Avenue, as its exit theme on its Morning Edition show. The address is the home of the old Chess studio in Chicago. We visited the place, which is privately owned now, on a trip to Chicago in the 1980s. The tune was also used as an outtro on WBCN by morning guy Mississippi Harold Wilson, aka Mississippi Fats. He's no longer in radio, instead running a restaurant in Roxbury, the primarily African-American part of Boston.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Palms of victory
The centerpiece of a truly delightful weekend was our trip to Tanglewood in the Berkshires to see a live performance of Prairie Home Companion. We saw nearly all of it. (More on that in a moment.)
The Shed at Tanglewood, open on three sides, can seat more than 5,000. An equal number can sit on the lawn and listen to the show on a fine sound system. We had tickets for seats in the shed.
Moving 10,000 people in an out of a town is a considerable task. The Lenox police, assisted by the Berkshire County sheriff's Department, did a spectacularly bad job managing the traffic flow to the Tanglewood site. Granted, the route to Tanglewood takes you along some narrow roads and through the village of Lenox, but the volume of traffic is well known. They've been hosting such events, several times a week, for 65 years. The ride from the camp to the Lee exit on the Pike took just about two and a half hours, including a stop at Whole Foods in Hadley to pick up our dinner. It took us a bit more than an hour to complete the remaining seven miles, from Lee to Tanglewood. We had our tasty dinner of Thai slaw, French bread, potato salad, and coconut chicken in the car. I thought that three-and-a-half hours would be plenty of time to get us there. I was mistaken. We arrived about 10 minutes late, but, fortunately, had aisle seats.
Garrison had recently relearned a brief hymn from an aunt. He taught the hymn to us and which we reprised throughout the show:
The song, Palms of Victory, is a old tune. Bob Dylan used something similar in an outtake on the Times They Are A-Changin' album, Paths of Victory.
Why do right-handed people finger stringed instruments with their left hands?
There's a running joke in the MacGregor family. When Woody would go to a Red Sox game, he'd invariably leave at the 7th inning stretch and listen to the rest of the game on the radio on the way home. Often, they'd miss some dramatic comebacks. People were leaving right after the News from Lake Wobegon to get a jump on traffic. We hung around the grounds and heard a full half hour of encore music. One of my favorite performers, a regular on the show, is Prudence Johnson. She has such a clear, sweet voice. She doesn't record much, but brings a wealth of musical experience and expression to the show. She was featured during the encores. I bought a couple of Gillian Welch CDs in the gift shop.
We've attended three PHC shows and this was, IMO, the best. The music was first rate, the writing crisp. And, he read our card. I brought greetings for Huck from three of us and handed the card to Garrison at the stage.
So Prairie Home Companion has become the Lawrence Welk show for the Boomers. There were some people under 40 there, on their own, but not many. We sat next to a teenager, attending the show with her parents. She exuded the excruciating boredom that only teenagers can produce. Her parents tried to buy her things, but she would have preferred an evening at the orthodontist office. Our parents watch reruns of Lawrence Welk every chance they get. It wouldn't surprise me that standard issue for nursing homes in 2015 will be a can of Ensure, a pair of no-slip slippers, and a Garrison Keillor musical implant.
Getting out of town wasn't much better. The folks at the Department of Homeland Security should study the behavior of exiting crowds if we can ever hope to have orderly evacuations in the case of disasters of any magnitude. We had to walk along the side of the road to get to our parking area in the field. A woman honked at Sandra so that she could hurry along and wait in the line ahead.
We saw fireworks in various towns on the ride home, including private fireworks on the Connecticut River.
But we got back to the camp safely. The sky was clear, the lake was calm, and you could see the constellations reflected on the smooth water. A couple of years ago, Sandra and I took a course on astronomy, learning enough to pick out some basic features of the northern sky. We're pretty small, but we're where we belong.
The weekend weather was as perfect as you could get, warm when it was supposed to be, cool where it was supposed to be. We did experience a bit of news withdrawal. The world we'd left behind had a Supreme Court justice resignation, continued war in Iraq, the Live 8 concerts, G-8 meetings, continued famines and strife in Africa, and the missing-white-girl-of-the-week story. Naturally, then, channel 5, the best of the lot in Boston TV, had a story about a horse that was frightened by fireworks and ran away. But it came back.
That night, Sunday, we heard the eerie sounds of Bongo Boy out on the lake. More about him in another note.
Sandra will drive Phyllis to the airport shuttle station in Framingham and we will all make our way to our respective places this morning.
Good luck on your new job, Jennie.
The Shed at Tanglewood, open on three sides, can seat more than 5,000. An equal number can sit on the lawn and listen to the show on a fine sound system. We had tickets for seats in the shed.
Moving 10,000 people in an out of a town is a considerable task. The Lenox police, assisted by the Berkshire County sheriff's Department, did a spectacularly bad job managing the traffic flow to the Tanglewood site. Granted, the route to Tanglewood takes you along some narrow roads and through the village of Lenox, but the volume of traffic is well known. They've been hosting such events, several times a week, for 65 years. The ride from the camp to the Lee exit on the Pike took just about two and a half hours, including a stop at Whole Foods in Hadley to pick up our dinner. It took us a bit more than an hour to complete the remaining seven miles, from Lee to Tanglewood. We had our tasty dinner of Thai slaw, French bread, potato salad, and coconut chicken in the car. I thought that three-and-a-half hours would be plenty of time to get us there. I was mistaken. We arrived about 10 minutes late, but, fortunately, had aisle seats.
Garrison had recently relearned a brief hymn from an aunt. He taught the hymn to us and which we reprised throughout the show:
Palms of victoryHe taught it in four parts. Peter Schickle led the bases and I found myself singing along. It fit nicely in my three-quarter octave range. I also sang the National Anthem, but spared everyone my attempts at the high notes.
Crowns of glory
Palms of victory
We shall wear [emended @ 10:20AM]
The song, Palms of Victory, is a old tune. Bob Dylan used something similar in an outtake on the Times They Are A-Changin' album, Paths of Victory.
Why do right-handed people finger stringed instruments with their left hands?
There's a running joke in the MacGregor family. When Woody would go to a Red Sox game, he'd invariably leave at the 7th inning stretch and listen to the rest of the game on the radio on the way home. Often, they'd miss some dramatic comebacks. People were leaving right after the News from Lake Wobegon to get a jump on traffic. We hung around the grounds and heard a full half hour of encore music. One of my favorite performers, a regular on the show, is Prudence Johnson. She has such a clear, sweet voice. She doesn't record much, but brings a wealth of musical experience and expression to the show. She was featured during the encores. I bought a couple of Gillian Welch CDs in the gift shop.
We've attended three PHC shows and this was, IMO, the best. The music was first rate, the writing crisp. And, he read our card. I brought greetings for Huck from three of us and handed the card to Garrison at the stage.
So Prairie Home Companion has become the Lawrence Welk show for the Boomers. There were some people under 40 there, on their own, but not many. We sat next to a teenager, attending the show with her parents. She exuded the excruciating boredom that only teenagers can produce. Her parents tried to buy her things, but she would have preferred an evening at the orthodontist office. Our parents watch reruns of Lawrence Welk every chance they get. It wouldn't surprise me that standard issue for nursing homes in 2015 will be a can of Ensure, a pair of no-slip slippers, and a Garrison Keillor musical implant.
Getting out of town wasn't much better. The folks at the Department of Homeland Security should study the behavior of exiting crowds if we can ever hope to have orderly evacuations in the case of disasters of any magnitude. We had to walk along the side of the road to get to our parking area in the field. A woman honked at Sandra so that she could hurry along and wait in the line ahead.
We saw fireworks in various towns on the ride home, including private fireworks on the Connecticut River.
But we got back to the camp safely. The sky was clear, the lake was calm, and you could see the constellations reflected on the smooth water. A couple of years ago, Sandra and I took a course on astronomy, learning enough to pick out some basic features of the northern sky. We're pretty small, but we're where we belong.
The weekend weather was as perfect as you could get, warm when it was supposed to be, cool where it was supposed to be. We did experience a bit of news withdrawal. The world we'd left behind had a Supreme Court justice resignation, continued war in Iraq, the Live 8 concerts, G-8 meetings, continued famines and strife in Africa, and the missing-white-girl-of-the-week story. Naturally, then, channel 5, the best of the lot in Boston TV, had a story about a horse that was frightened by fireworks and ran away. But it came back.
That night, Sunday, we heard the eerie sounds of Bongo Boy out on the lake. More about him in another note.
Sandra will drive Phyllis to the airport shuttle station in Framingham and we will all make our way to our respective places this morning.
Good luck on your new job, Jennie.
Friday, July 01, 2005
O little town of Hackensack, How still we hear thee snore;
The picture on the right is an overhead view of our cove. The pushpin denotes the roof of the camp. By comparison, the site that looks like a runway is our neighbor's year-round home. The neighbors don't understand why my father didn't like what they did to the property.Below is the perspective that a hawk would have on our house and yard as it's approaching from the south.
All images are courtesy of Google Earth. With the Google Earth software, I can tilt, zoom, and circle around. The images are based on an amazing array of GIS, satellite, and aerial data covering the U.S.
We had a large meeting at work yesterday regarding a reorganization. The major impact was felt by some managers who have new bosses as of today. The individual contributors are largely unaffected for now. I did talk with one manager who is in the process of forming a software tools group. He's still resolving issues regarding his budgets. He knows that I'm interested in such a job and that I'd likely be good at it.
This morning's automated search for a technical documentation position provides a lead on a Principle Internal Auditor. "And how are your principles doing this morning, Dilbert?"
Moving my work computer so that it faces the opening in my cube at work has had the desired effect. Not only are people not sneaking up on me, but people are stopping by to talk. If I really need to concentrate on something, I can take my laptop and work in a conference room or in the cafeteria. Most of the time, though, it's more important that I talk with people.
Every hour or so I get up and walk around the building. It's about a 1/5th of a mile. I walk clockwise. My friend Brownie used to like to have discussions proceed around a table clockwise. He said that, because that's the direction that high pressure systems circulate in the Northern Hemisphere, it brings fair weather to the meeting.
Sandra's at the camp with her cousin Phyllis. I'll go there this evening. It should be a quiet day at work and we may even be sent home early. Traffic was heavy yesterday afternoon, with people getting an early start on the early start.
Speaking of which, in a GMAC study of driver knowledge, or lack thereof, we're #2!
On Saturday evening we'll see the Prairie Home Companionshow at Tanglewood. Gillian Welch, one of my favorite singers, is performing, along with the usual cast. An added treat is the appearance of Professor Peter Schickele. We can only hope that he will pull another rancid gym sock from laundry bag that is the repertoire of one P.D.Q. Bach. (The title of today's entry is from P.D.Q.'s Christmas carol O Little Town of Hackensack.) We have seats in the shed.
Sunday night we'll watch the fireworks on the lake. The weather promises to be good. We will probably watch from Elden's lawn where there's a better view of the whole lake.
Happy Canada Day.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Fung shui rides again
It's coming up on a year at my job. Over the course of a year I manage to do horrible things to the software configuration on my computer. Installing and uninstalling trial products, there are shards of software all over the place. It was time, past time even, to reformat the hard drive and start anew, which I did yesterday afternoon. While that was going on, I was faced with an office that had its share of creeping clutter. Editing drafts stood in stacks on the corner of the desk. New project files were scattered among personal notes. It was time to clean house.
The biggest problem with cubicles is that they are designed to have you work while facing away from the door. A visit has not choice but to interrupt and, possibly, surprise you. Sandra gave me a little mirror, but people were still managing to sneak up. I have moved my computer monitor so that it's facing the doorway. I'm sitting at a bit of an angle to the desk and my back may be a bit torqued by the time I'm done, but it's worth a try. It's been said that if you're surprised by people's arrival, you'll be surprised by their ideas.
There's a big meeting this morning, announcing details of a reorganization in the group to which I'm assigned. I don't think that the changes will have any major, immediate impact on me. The director who called the meeting said that there would be cake. I was supposed to bring food to my manager's staff meeting, which was trumped by this other, bigger meeting. So now we have two Finnish coffee breads and a can of Spam Lite.
Sandra's cousin, Phyllis, is spending the weekend with us. She's flying from Chicago this morning. Sandra will meet her at the airport and, after errands, go to the camp for the night.
From the My VCR is Flashing 12:00 Dept.
There's a whole economic world of which I'm only dimly aware, that of ringtones. In brief, you can buy (or rent or lease or whatever the right verb is) short clips of music that play when you receive an incoming call. You can have different ringtones for different callers. In addition, you can have what are called ringbacks. In this case, the person calling you will hear a musical clip. I stumbled on to a service that would have let me use Freddy Freeloader from Miles Davis as my ringback tone. I think that these tones cost a dollar or two a piece, but I'm not sure if it's a one-time charge, a subscription fee, or something else. Apparently, enough people have figured this out to make the ringtone business very popular for the wireless phone companies.
New releases of Apple's iTunes and my new friend Replay Radio have made it even easier to record Internet radio shows for later playback. The radio shows were a part of my work day for several years and it's comforting to have them back. I'll wax nostalgic another time about radio, listening to Carl de Suze on WBZ and WBZA in the early morning darkness on school day, hearing Mississippi Harold Wilson play Paul Butterfield's East-West in a late 1960s night.
Michael Francis worked in our yard yesterday, splitting and stacking wood, straighten up some construction equipment of Mike's that we've kept in back. MF is bulking up for football. Earlier this week, he was carrying packages of roofing shingles up ladders and was sore for a couple of days. Football practice starts at the first of August.
In separate calls, I had good conversations with Mike and Adam last night. Our wives were out for the evening, so the guys got on the phone. The conversations meandered nicely on a summer's evening - from work to baseball to the expansion of the Smith College campus and the need for science and engineering program for women to communities and business networking (the meet-and-greet kind, not 800.11g). I brought them up to date on my health. I'd been having a couple of bad days, but, about 1:30 yesterday afternoon, the wet, wool blanket lifted and I was able to do stuff again. I'm really blessed to be supported by such a wonderful family and so many good friends. As I often quote Luis Tiant, they make me do better than I can do.
Adam, Jennie, and Lily spent Tuesday night at the camp. Yesterday morning an engineer from Verizon came to look over the settings. (See, I told you this was going to be a saga.) The engineer told Adam that getting phone service to our camp was going to be a big project. The last phone connection is at pole #22. We're at pole #30. The poles are 150 feet apart, many surrounded by tree cover. Adam said that the engineer estimates that the work will take a couple of weeks. I can't locate my phone-company-to-UTC time conversion table, but I think that two weeks is optimistic.
The biggest problem with cubicles is that they are designed to have you work while facing away from the door. A visit has not choice but to interrupt and, possibly, surprise you. Sandra gave me a little mirror, but people were still managing to sneak up. I have moved my computer monitor so that it's facing the doorway. I'm sitting at a bit of an angle to the desk and my back may be a bit torqued by the time I'm done, but it's worth a try. It's been said that if you're surprised by people's arrival, you'll be surprised by their ideas.
There's a big meeting this morning, announcing details of a reorganization in the group to which I'm assigned. I don't think that the changes will have any major, immediate impact on me. The director who called the meeting said that there would be cake. I was supposed to bring food to my manager's staff meeting, which was trumped by this other, bigger meeting. So now we have two Finnish coffee breads and a can of Spam Lite.
Sandra's cousin, Phyllis, is spending the weekend with us. She's flying from Chicago this morning. Sandra will meet her at the airport and, after errands, go to the camp for the night.
From the My VCR is Flashing 12:00 Dept.
There's a whole economic world of which I'm only dimly aware, that of ringtones. In brief, you can buy (or rent or lease or whatever the right verb is) short clips of music that play when you receive an incoming call. You can have different ringtones for different callers. In addition, you can have what are called ringbacks. In this case, the person calling you will hear a musical clip. I stumbled on to a service that would have let me use Freddy Freeloader from Miles Davis as my ringback tone. I think that these tones cost a dollar or two a piece, but I'm not sure if it's a one-time charge, a subscription fee, or something else. Apparently, enough people have figured this out to make the ringtone business very popular for the wireless phone companies.
New releases of Apple's iTunes and my new friend Replay Radio have made it even easier to record Internet radio shows for later playback. The radio shows were a part of my work day for several years and it's comforting to have them back. I'll wax nostalgic another time about radio, listening to Carl de Suze on WBZ and WBZA in the early morning darkness on school day, hearing Mississippi Harold Wilson play Paul Butterfield's East-West in a late 1960s night.
Michael Francis worked in our yard yesterday, splitting and stacking wood, straighten up some construction equipment of Mike's that we've kept in back. MF is bulking up for football. Earlier this week, he was carrying packages of roofing shingles up ladders and was sore for a couple of days. Football practice starts at the first of August.
In separate calls, I had good conversations with Mike and Adam last night. Our wives were out for the evening, so the guys got on the phone. The conversations meandered nicely on a summer's evening - from work to baseball to the expansion of the Smith College campus and the need for science and engineering program for women to communities and business networking (the meet-and-greet kind, not 800.11g). I brought them up to date on my health. I'd been having a couple of bad days, but, about 1:30 yesterday afternoon, the wet, wool blanket lifted and I was able to do stuff again. I'm really blessed to be supported by such a wonderful family and so many good friends. As I often quote Luis Tiant, they make me do better than I can do.
Adam, Jennie, and Lily spent Tuesday night at the camp. Yesterday morning an engineer from Verizon came to look over the settings. (See, I told you this was going to be a saga.) The engineer told Adam that getting phone service to our camp was going to be a big project. The last phone connection is at pole #22. We're at pole #30. The poles are 150 feet apart, many surrounded by tree cover. Adam said that the engineer estimates that the work will take a couple of weeks. I can't locate my phone-company-to-UTC time conversion table, but I think that two weeks is optimistic.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
The sound of a phone not ringing
The pleasant young man from the phone company showed up at the camp yesterday morning. He was wide-eyed, an expression common to first-time travelers along the muddy camp road. He may have even been surprised that I spoke English. He asked if we'd ever had phone service at the camp before. I said no, but that our neighbors did. I directed him toward the woods in back of the camp and assured him that there was another house not too far away.
When high-speed Internet access was first offered, starting in the late 1980s, there was a good deal of talk about 'the last mile', that often-expensive and troublesome segment of cabling from the main service lines to the homes. It's not quite a mile from the nearest wired telephone at the lake. It's more like 300 yards, but the woods are thick and the ground underfoot can be ledge or swamp. The neighbors on the south of us get their phone service from one town, the neighbors on the east from another. (The neighbors on the north and west are fish.) The southside neighbors had to pay for their own telephone poles (as they have often reminded us). The installer couldn't quite determine how the eastside neighbors got their service; the line disappeared into the trees.
So, we have the makings of a saga. The installer said that he'd have to hand this request to the engineering team for further investigation. This will take a while.
Not far away, in the small town of Shutesbury, some clever people have assembled a wireless network around Lake Wyola. I think that there are enough year-round residents that we could put together such a service at Queen Lake. I may get a chance to talk about it with a few folks at next month's lake association meeting.
OK, so Matt Lauer and Brooke Shields believe that antidepressants can help people and Tom Cruise thinks that antidepressants are evil (transcript).
Last night the Canadian Parliament voted to allow same-sex marriages for all of Canada. It's still not clear if all provinces must go along. Prince Edward Island, along with Alberta, Nunavut, the Northwest Territories do not permit same-sex marriages. Besides, PEI has other things to worry about. The government is setting up cameras to take pictures of people illegally dumping trash in the woods.
When high-speed Internet access was first offered, starting in the late 1980s, there was a good deal of talk about 'the last mile', that often-expensive and troublesome segment of cabling from the main service lines to the homes. It's not quite a mile from the nearest wired telephone at the lake. It's more like 300 yards, but the woods are thick and the ground underfoot can be ledge or swamp. The neighbors on the south of us get their phone service from one town, the neighbors on the east from another. (The neighbors on the north and west are fish.) The southside neighbors had to pay for their own telephone poles (as they have often reminded us). The installer couldn't quite determine how the eastside neighbors got their service; the line disappeared into the trees.
So, we have the makings of a saga. The installer said that he'd have to hand this request to the engineering team for further investigation. This will take a while.
Not far away, in the small town of Shutesbury, some clever people have assembled a wireless network around Lake Wyola. I think that there are enough year-round residents that we could put together such a service at Queen Lake. I may get a chance to talk about it with a few folks at next month's lake association meeting.
OK, so Matt Lauer and Brooke Shields believe that antidepressants can help people and Tom Cruise thinks that antidepressants are evil (transcript).
Last night the Canadian Parliament voted to allow same-sex marriages for all of Canada. It's still not clear if all provinces must go along. Prince Edward Island, along with Alberta, Nunavut, the Northwest Territories do not permit same-sex marriages. Besides, PEI has other things to worry about. The government is setting up cameras to take pictures of people illegally dumping trash in the woods.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Once more into the woods
Friend Tom often talks about corporate DNA, the tendency of an organization to revert to its original style, goals, and actions even as it tries to change. I thought about Tom during the 45 minutes that I was on the phone with Verizon as we a) tried to figure out why our phone line wasn't installed at the camp last Friday and 2) what we could do about that. Each person in customer service, billing, repair, and, of course, the eCenter (!), was very nice, very empathetic. The system in which they worked and with which I had to contend is, however, genetically Ma 'We are the phone company and we know what you need.' Bell. In my case, when I filled out the form on the web and selected Verizon as my long-distance carrier, I didn't select a plan. The online forms didn't require a plan, but the folks in the back office did. So, the order was put on hold. A very nice person named Bonnie figured out what had happened, reopened the order, double-checked the work order, reviewed the directions to the place, and said that I'd be getting a credit on my first month's bill because of my troubles.
We're going to try again today. The installation is scheduled for some time between 8 and 12. The camp will be a good place to be today. It's warm and quite humid now.
Also, I came home from work early yesterday and feel better, but not all better today. At my appointment yesterday, I learned that my doctor is moving to California at the end of August. He's been good - forthright, empathetic, good-humored, as well as competent.
Sandra and I had dinner outside last Saturday night. This was the first time we'd used our outdoor fireplace for cooking. The steak and potatoes came out well, perhaps a bit al dente, but very tasty. For dessert, I toasted marshmallows on the coals, using a skewer that my father made a very long time ago, long before there was thought of gadgets such as this.
At work we take turns bringing in snacks for the team's weekly staff meeting. It's my turn this week. I'll bring some Finnish coffee bread and the obligatory can of Spam. I doubt that anyone will want the Spam. It's best when served fried or grilled, bringing out all of its artery-clogging goodness.
There are some vegetarian readers of this journal. A visit to the Potted Meat Museum might make a few more converts.
We're going to try again today. The installation is scheduled for some time between 8 and 12. The camp will be a good place to be today. It's warm and quite humid now.
Also, I came home from work early yesterday and feel better, but not all better today. At my appointment yesterday, I learned that my doctor is moving to California at the end of August. He's been good - forthright, empathetic, good-humored, as well as competent.
Sandra and I had dinner outside last Saturday night. This was the first time we'd used our outdoor fireplace for cooking. The steak and potatoes came out well, perhaps a bit al dente, but very tasty. For dessert, I toasted marshmallows on the coals, using a skewer that my father made a very long time ago, long before there was thought of gadgets such as this.
At work we take turns bringing in snacks for the team's weekly staff meeting. It's my turn this week. I'll bring some Finnish coffee bread and the obligatory can of Spam. I doubt that anyone will want the Spam. It's best when served fried or grilled, bringing out all of its artery-clogging goodness.
There are some vegetarian readers of this journal. A visit to the Potted Meat Museum might make a few more converts.
Monday, June 27, 2005
Cooking with gas
The telephone installer didn't show up on Friday. I did manage to get some work done in the quiet. 
I also played with my new picture phone a bit. Sandra finished her errands in town and joined me shortly after noon. The nice guy from the heating company, Larry, finished the installation of our new gas cooktop.
We investigated the neighbor's tree that was hit by lightning (the tree, not the neighbor). There was no damage to their buildings. One tree was split and knocked over, blocking the driveway. Another had a black burn mark running its length. The next day, we could hear our neighbor and his son-in-law working with their chain saw.
We'd set aside Saturday as day of peace and ease. We walked in the woods, paddled around the north end of the lake in the canoe, swam, read, dozed, stacked wood and gathered kindling, dined on steaks from the grill. My father couldn't make it up the stairs, so we had early afternoon coffee and snacks in the shade near the boathouse.
On Sunday Sandra went to the Cape for Russell's first birthday party while I went grocery shopping for my father and did a few other chores around the house. Michael Francis and Joe rode with Sandra. I'd sent a text message to her cell phone. Joe (age 10) showed her how these messages work. So simple that even a child can do it. Verizon Wireless should package a child with each new phone.
The concept of free long-distance calls is a new and strange one. Until 20 or so years ago, phone charges were measured by distance - a call to Florida, Florida was a lot more than a call to Florida, Massachusetts. Fiber-optic cables have made national distances disappear. My father would prefer to (and does) drive 40 miles to talk with his friend Ted rather than make the long-distance phone call. This new cell phone plan will change things, but probably not quickly.
I attended a regional school system, two small towns joining together to make one small high school. The other town, Ashburnham, was outside of our local calling area until my junior or senior year. Until then, a call to a friend in the next town (a toll call) required much pleading.
My father hasn't been able to get to the dump for a while. Not that he makes much trash; the house is quite tidy. As I was taking one bag of trash and other bags of paper and cans for recycling, I asked if there was anything else. He asked how much room I had in my car (a Subaru wagon). When he was assured that I had plenty of room, he pointed me to three trash bags with cement that had gone bad. (Moisture had seeped in and hardened the mix.) Anyone have anything that needs to stay at the bottom of a lake or pond?
On the back road that leads from my father's house to the Wal-Mart in Gardner, there's a sign by the driveway of a small house: "Worms 24x7".
Woody and Marian were having company this weekend, so Marian baked cookies. She laid them out on the kitchen table to cool, covering them with paper. They had to go out for a little bit. When they return, not a cookie was to be found. The company wasn't coming until the next day, so Marian had time to make another batch. This time, she put the cookies on the dining room table, covered them, and went out. Upon return, not a cookie could be found, just a very happy dog.
We received a bill from the circulation office of the Worcester Telegram. The bill is for 34¢. The good news is that it's a final notice.
One of my favorite sites (though PG-13 and usually not safe for work) is Fark.com. One of the recurring features at the site are their Photoshop contests. Participants are given a theme and they have to use Photoshop (or other image-editing programs) to alter a picture to make it fit with the theme.
This weekend, one of the contests was If the world were more like a cartoon...
By the way, Blogger has added a new feature that makes it much easier to add pictures to blogs. I'll try to be judicious in the number of pictures that I include here because I know that pictures can be very slow to load on a dial-up connection, which I hope to have at the camp real soon now.
I also played with my new picture phone a bit. Sandra finished her errands in town and joined me shortly after noon. The nice guy from the heating company, Larry, finished the installation of our new gas cooktop.We investigated the neighbor's tree that was hit by lightning (the tree, not the neighbor). There was no damage to their buildings. One tree was split and knocked over, blocking the driveway. Another had a black burn mark running its length. The next day, we could hear our neighbor and his son-in-law working with their chain saw.
We'd set aside Saturday as day of peace and ease. We walked in the woods, paddled around the north end of the lake in the canoe, swam, read, dozed, stacked wood and gathered kindling, dined on steaks from the grill. My father couldn't make it up the stairs, so we had early afternoon coffee and snacks in the shade near the boathouse.
On Sunday Sandra went to the Cape for Russell's first birthday party while I went grocery shopping for my father and did a few other chores around the house. Michael Francis and Joe rode with Sandra. I'd sent a text message to her cell phone. Joe (age 10) showed her how these messages work. So simple that even a child can do it. Verizon Wireless should package a child with each new phone.
The concept of free long-distance calls is a new and strange one. Until 20 or so years ago, phone charges were measured by distance - a call to Florida, Florida was a lot more than a call to Florida, Massachusetts. Fiber-optic cables have made national distances disappear. My father would prefer to (and does) drive 40 miles to talk with his friend Ted rather than make the long-distance phone call. This new cell phone plan will change things, but probably not quickly.
I attended a regional school system, two small towns joining together to make one small high school. The other town, Ashburnham, was outside of our local calling area until my junior or senior year. Until then, a call to a friend in the next town (a toll call) required much pleading.
My father hasn't been able to get to the dump for a while. Not that he makes much trash; the house is quite tidy. As I was taking one bag of trash and other bags of paper and cans for recycling, I asked if there was anything else. He asked how much room I had in my car (a Subaru wagon). When he was assured that I had plenty of room, he pointed me to three trash bags with cement that had gone bad. (Moisture had seeped in and hardened the mix.) Anyone have anything that needs to stay at the bottom of a lake or pond?
On the back road that leads from my father's house to the Wal-Mart in Gardner, there's a sign by the driveway of a small house: "Worms 24x7".
Woody and Marian were having company this weekend, so Marian baked cookies. She laid them out on the kitchen table to cool, covering them with paper. They had to go out for a little bit. When they return, not a cookie was to be found. The company wasn't coming until the next day, so Marian had time to make another batch. This time, she put the cookies on the dining room table, covered them, and went out. Upon return, not a cookie could be found, just a very happy dog.
We received a bill from the circulation office of the Worcester Telegram. The bill is for 34¢. The good news is that it's a final notice.
One of my favorite sites (though PG-13 and usually not safe for work) is Fark.com. One of the recurring features at the site are their Photoshop contests. Participants are given a theme and they have to use Photoshop (or other image-editing programs) to alter a picture to make it fit with the theme.
This weekend, one of the contests was If the world were more like a cartoon...By the way, Blogger has added a new feature that makes it much easier to add pictures to blogs. I'll try to be judicious in the number of pictures that I include here because I know that pictures can be very slow to load on a dial-up connection, which I hope to have at the camp real soon now.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Summer workers, some are not
While the installer from the phone company is stringing a phone line across a mosquito-laden swamp, the guy from the heating company is making the final connections on our gas range, and my father is learning how to set up voice dialing on his new cell phone, I'll be trying to get something that looks like a day's worth of work at the camp. Think it'll happen? Me neither.
This week we learned that lightning hit a tree in a neighbor's yard at the lake. This is the second strike in a few years. I'm not glad it's them, but I'm glad it's not us, too. One time we were expecting company at the camp. My mother had laid out the food on a table in the middle of the room. Lightning blew out a lighting fixture overhead, exploding the light bulbs and spraying the food with broken glass. We liked the people who were coming to visit, so we threw the food away.
The camp is at the edge of what was, a 100 years ago, a farm. There are still pieces of barbed wire along the back edge of the property. Lightning hit a tree, travel down toward the ground, jumped on the barbed wire, ran the length of the wire and knocked some boards off of the back of the sauna.
In Massachusetts, you have Cambridge and Amherst. In California, you have Berkeley. Coloradans, jumping up and down to catch the attention of coast-to-coast flights, shout out, "Hey, you want loopy. We got loopy right here." Hofu, human-flesh-flavored tofu.
Happy 1st birthday, Russell.
This week we learned that lightning hit a tree in a neighbor's yard at the lake. This is the second strike in a few years. I'm not glad it's them, but I'm glad it's not us, too. One time we were expecting company at the camp. My mother had laid out the food on a table in the middle of the room. Lightning blew out a lighting fixture overhead, exploding the light bulbs and spraying the food with broken glass. We liked the people who were coming to visit, so we threw the food away.
The camp is at the edge of what was, a 100 years ago, a farm. There are still pieces of barbed wire along the back edge of the property. Lightning hit a tree, travel down toward the ground, jumped on the barbed wire, ran the length of the wire and knocked some boards off of the back of the sauna.
In Massachusetts, you have Cambridge and Amherst. In California, you have Berkeley. Coloradans, jumping up and down to catch the attention of coast-to-coast flights, shout out, "Hey, you want loopy. We got loopy right here." Hofu, human-flesh-flavored tofu.
Happy 1st birthday, Russell.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Would Kerouac have a Support the Troops magnet?
I was standing at the counter at the Verizon store in the mall, buying a new cell phone for my father and getting a free upgrade for myself. The young man next to me at the counter, holding half of a phone, asks the sales person, "Can you check again? I know had insurance on this."
Yesterday I found a solution to a scripting problem that had vexed me for more than a week. For those of you who care about such things, it had to do with handling very long pathnames in Windows. The problem had been blocking me from taking care of several other things, so I'm looking forward to visiting my to-do list anew. Tomorrow I'm going to work from the camp. We're having a phone line installed, but I expect to be working offline most of the time. I've signed up for a free NetZero account. We will get Internet access for 10 hours per month and will experience some ads.
We (I) often play the "What if" game. What if I had tried something different for supper instead of the old tried-and-true? What if I took that job last year where I'd be writing process documents for the pharmaceutical companies? It plays out on larger scales as well. People like to ask Peter Kramer, "What if van Gogh had had Prozac?" On yesterday's The Connection, the host and guests wondered what if Allen Ginsberg was releasing Howl now? Where would he shill the book? Jerry Springer? The Daily Show? Howard Stern on Sirius? "... who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish, ..."
Musicians aren't like the rest of us. Here's the science.
The BBC is running this story about a big table and chair. Little do they know that Gardner has big chairs, too. I used to pick up the newspapers for my delivery route just to the left of this chair.
A couple of studies are showing that insomnia, more than just a side effect of depression, often precedes and may even trigger depressive episodes.
Yesterday I found a solution to a scripting problem that had vexed me for more than a week. For those of you who care about such things, it had to do with handling very long pathnames in Windows. The problem had been blocking me from taking care of several other things, so I'm looking forward to visiting my to-do list anew. Tomorrow I'm going to work from the camp. We're having a phone line installed, but I expect to be working offline most of the time. I've signed up for a free NetZero account. We will get Internet access for 10 hours per month and will experience some ads.
We (I) often play the "What if" game. What if I had tried something different for supper instead of the old tried-and-true? What if I took that job last year where I'd be writing process documents for the pharmaceutical companies? It plays out on larger scales as well. People like to ask Peter Kramer, "What if van Gogh had had Prozac?" On yesterday's The Connection, the host and guests wondered what if Allen Ginsberg was releasing Howl now? Where would he shill the book? Jerry Springer? The Daily Show? Howard Stern on Sirius? "... who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish, ..."
Musicians aren't like the rest of us. Here's the science.
The BBC is running this story about a big table and chair. Little do they know that Gardner has big chairs, too. I used to pick up the newspapers for my delivery route just to the left of this chair.
A couple of studies are showing that insomnia, more than just a side effect of depression, often precedes and may even trigger depressive episodes.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Eye to eye with a dragon fly
It's like there's a slit in a sack of bird seeds. A little leaks out and then more as the slit widens. Sometimes you can stop and repair it in position. Sometimes you have to lie it on its side to slow the out-going rush so you can make repairs. Depending on where the breach is, it can be difficult or easy stop the leak, repair it, and replenish the bag. I came home from work mid-day yesterday and lay down for a couple hours. I feel better, with only a slight case of overwrought similes as a side effect.
In an effort to recover the tough afternoon, I stacked wood for nearly an hour. It was warm, verging on hot, but there was a comfortable breeze and the work was mostly in the shade. A dragonfly followed me around like a pet. As best as I can determine, it was a unicorn clubtail.
Adam called late in the afternoon, reporting on their trip. He and Jennie raised money for stroke research (runners raised more than $3M total), completed their races, and brought back stories of strength and courage. We're very proud of them. Prices for Wyeth, the makers of Advil, (WYE, NYSE) peaked Monday morning and fell back.
A few weeks ago, I mentioned here that I'd had a BB gun as a kid. That surprised Adam. We never had guns around when he was growing up. But, as much as I could be, I tried to be a normal kid. I even went through that shoplifting phase in junior high school. While other kids were boosting clothes, candy, toys, and canoes (yep), I took books.
Silvio Berlusconi went to Finland and complained about the food. Pickled herring, beets, and turnip?
OK, it can stop now. I have had songs from the Anne of Green Gables soundtrack in my head since our return trip to Northampton on Sunday evening. It's nice enough music, once a year, maybe once every two years.
G'bye, Lucky. He was Adam, Jennie, and Lily's cat and passed away on Monday from renal failure.
In an effort to recover the tough afternoon, I stacked wood for nearly an hour. It was warm, verging on hot, but there was a comfortable breeze and the work was mostly in the shade. A dragonfly followed me around like a pet. As best as I can determine, it was a unicorn clubtail.
Adam called late in the afternoon, reporting on their trip. He and Jennie raised money for stroke research (runners raised more than $3M total), completed their races, and brought back stories of strength and courage. We're very proud of them. Prices for Wyeth, the makers of Advil, (WYE, NYSE) peaked Monday morning and fell back.
A few weeks ago, I mentioned here that I'd had a BB gun as a kid. That surprised Adam. We never had guns around when he was growing up. But, as much as I could be, I tried to be a normal kid. I even went through that shoplifting phase in junior high school. While other kids were boosting clothes, candy, toys, and canoes (yep), I took books.
Silvio Berlusconi went to Finland and complained about the food. Pickled herring, beets, and turnip?
OK, it can stop now. I have had songs from the Anne of Green Gables soundtrack in my head since our return trip to Northampton on Sunday evening. It's nice enough music, once a year, maybe once every two years.
G'bye, Lucky. He was Adam, Jennie, and Lily's cat and passed away on Monday from renal failure.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
you're going to rise up singing
The measure of a good song is in the fruit it bears. So it is with Gershwin's Summertime. The operatic original, the aching blues from Janis Joplin, the deep spirituality from John Coltrane, the rolicking licks from Alvin Lee, and the many, many others.
Astronomical summer began at 2:46AM (EDT). Meteorologists begin their summers at the start of June; September, by their reckoning, is an autumn month. Some in Europe start even earlier, in May, when the sun is already high and the days are long. Finns celebrate Juhannus, St. John's Day, during this time. Like Christmas, it's less a religious observance and more an excuse for a party. Can you have a party that goes all night long when there is no night? We didn't serve alcohol at our house, so I didn't see the drunken revels while I was growing up or didn't recognize it when I did. There would be plenty of that later.
The cool, wet spring has delayed lots of plants. The mountain laurel will be at its pink-and-white peak this weekend.
Because of a slight mixup, we received a bill for our newspaper subscription. The bill is for 34¢ and is stamped Final Notice.
No time to brew coffee? Well, here are two ways to get your daily dose - in the shower and on the tongue.
I'm sure that they laughed at Leonardo da Vinci, Robert Fulton, and Rudolph Diesel, but that doesn't stop us from at least smiling at these guys. It's all part of the Museum of Retro Technology.
Welcome home, Adam and Jennie.
Astronomical summer began at 2:46AM (EDT). Meteorologists begin their summers at the start of June; September, by their reckoning, is an autumn month. Some in Europe start even earlier, in May, when the sun is already high and the days are long. Finns celebrate Juhannus, St. John's Day, during this time. Like Christmas, it's less a religious observance and more an excuse for a party. Can you have a party that goes all night long when there is no night? We didn't serve alcohol at our house, so I didn't see the drunken revels while I was growing up or didn't recognize it when I did. There would be plenty of that later.
The cool, wet spring has delayed lots of plants. The mountain laurel will be at its pink-and-white peak this weekend.
Because of a slight mixup, we received a bill for our newspaper subscription. The bill is for 34¢ and is stamped Final Notice.
No time to brew coffee? Well, here are two ways to get your daily dose - in the shower and on the tongue.
I'm sure that they laughed at Leonardo da Vinci, Robert Fulton, and Rudolph Diesel, but that doesn't stop us from at least smiling at these guys. It's all part of the Museum of Retro Technology.
Welcome home, Adam and Jennie.
Monday, June 20, 2005
What is so rare as a pixel in June?
Once again, the temperature is in the 40s so we need a small fire in the wood stove. Last evening's air was clear and dry and you could see far away places. We drove Lily home in the bright light of the setting sun. The trees are a deep green now. The shadows at dusk highlight the color. Many years ago Zenith touted their new TV that had each pixel set on a black background that made each color more vivid. One of the songs on the Anne of Green Gables soundtrack proclaims that our best learning comes through the close inspection of nature. So, look closely at a rare June evening in the Connecticut River Valley and you, too, might appreciate the technology of the last American-made TV set.
It's been that kind of weekend, delights tumbling over one another. Lily is a joy, sharp, confident, loving, and, as Jennie's mother, Diane, observed, willing. When it was time to play, Lily splashed in the water or made art. When it was time to work, she happily carried bags of stuff from the car to the camp or wielded our vacuum cleaner as needed. And, just when you both need it, she'll hop on your lap and lean her head against your shoulder.
From Mike and Lynn on Father's Day I received a gift certificate at a local store and, most precious of all, a framed picture collection of all seven grandchildren. Adam and Jennie have given me trees which we'll plant in the fall. Lynn bought Mike a popup trailer that can sleep the whole family. They had breakfast in the trailer on Sunday morning.
My father is still unsteady and uses his father's umbrella (!) as his cane. He looks thin and often tired. When I gave him his gift and shook his hand, though, I found that his grip is still strong.
On Friday we had the camp's septic tank pumped for the first time since Nixon was president. Lily officially pronounced the open tank as gross, but the nice man who runs the sanitation service said that all is in good working order. Our next task, one that would have been heretical just a short time ago, is that we will have a landline phone installed at the camp. Sandra was unable to complete several calls because the cell phone reception was so uneven. Sandra and I haven't discussed it yet, but a landline phone also makes way for Internet access.
Lily, Sandra, and I went for a canoe ride on Saturday morning. We visited with Carole, a year-round resident who wrote a history of the lake a few years ago. The cover of the book included a picture of my father sailing his boat. We continued our inspection of the lake, greeting the campers who were out, waving to the creepy guy with a mullet who was having beer for breakfast. Lo, a For Sale sign was visible on the dock of one small camp. This hardly ever happens. We had neither pencil nor pen, so we divided the memory task, each of us taking a part of the phone number to remember until we could get back to the camp. My part was the area code, 941, a Florida number.
The camp, we learned, was for sale for $250,000, down from $300,000. It had been owned by the former longest resident on the lake; he'd passed away a few months ago. Basically, it was two teardowns on a quarter acre. We talked with the seller last night and learned that they'd had an offer.
We returned to Holden to bring Lily to Mike and Lynn's for an overnight stay. Sandra and I weren't quite ready for a quiet camp yet, so we went out on the town in Gardner. We stopped in at what was billed as a Gospel Bluegrass Jam at a local church - four people playing out-of-tune banjos and singing out-of-tune with the banjos and each other. We slipped in quietly and slipped out again, leaving our donation in the can by the door. We had dinner at a surprisingly good Mexican restaurant and then drove around a bit. We drove past the three-decker that my grandparents owned. Where families from Finland, Poland, and New Brunswick once lived, we now see black and brown and yellow skins. We rode back to the camp through Otter River. We'd had such a good meal that we didn't need to stop at Lee's Hot Dog Stand in Baldwinville. Downtown Phillipston was dark and quiet.
We were up past 10PM for three nights of four. I can't say that our managers will get their full measure of our work today, but we'll make good.
It's been that kind of weekend, delights tumbling over one another. Lily is a joy, sharp, confident, loving, and, as Jennie's mother, Diane, observed, willing. When it was time to play, Lily splashed in the water or made art. When it was time to work, she happily carried bags of stuff from the car to the camp or wielded our vacuum cleaner as needed. And, just when you both need it, she'll hop on your lap and lean her head against your shoulder.
From Mike and Lynn on Father's Day I received a gift certificate at a local store and, most precious of all, a framed picture collection of all seven grandchildren. Adam and Jennie have given me trees which we'll plant in the fall. Lynn bought Mike a popup trailer that can sleep the whole family. They had breakfast in the trailer on Sunday morning.
My father is still unsteady and uses his father's umbrella (!) as his cane. He looks thin and often tired. When I gave him his gift and shook his hand, though, I found that his grip is still strong.
On Friday we had the camp's septic tank pumped for the first time since Nixon was president. Lily officially pronounced the open tank as gross, but the nice man who runs the sanitation service said that all is in good working order. Our next task, one that would have been heretical just a short time ago, is that we will have a landline phone installed at the camp. Sandra was unable to complete several calls because the cell phone reception was so uneven. Sandra and I haven't discussed it yet, but a landline phone also makes way for Internet access.
Lily, Sandra, and I went for a canoe ride on Saturday morning. We visited with Carole, a year-round resident who wrote a history of the lake a few years ago. The cover of the book included a picture of my father sailing his boat. We continued our inspection of the lake, greeting the campers who were out, waving to the creepy guy with a mullet who was having beer for breakfast. Lo, a For Sale sign was visible on the dock of one small camp. This hardly ever happens. We had neither pencil nor pen, so we divided the memory task, each of us taking a part of the phone number to remember until we could get back to the camp. My part was the area code, 941, a Florida number.
The camp, we learned, was for sale for $250,000, down from $300,000. It had been owned by the former longest resident on the lake; he'd passed away a few months ago. Basically, it was two teardowns on a quarter acre. We talked with the seller last night and learned that they'd had an offer.
We returned to Holden to bring Lily to Mike and Lynn's for an overnight stay. Sandra and I weren't quite ready for a quiet camp yet, so we went out on the town in Gardner. We stopped in at what was billed as a Gospel Bluegrass Jam at a local church - four people playing out-of-tune banjos and singing out-of-tune with the banjos and each other. We slipped in quietly and slipped out again, leaving our donation in the can by the door. We had dinner at a surprisingly good Mexican restaurant and then drove around a bit. We drove past the three-decker that my grandparents owned. Where families from Finland, Poland, and New Brunswick once lived, we now see black and brown and yellow skins. We rode back to the camp through Otter River. We'd had such a good meal that we didn't need to stop at Lee's Hot Dog Stand in Baldwinville. Downtown Phillipston was dark and quiet.
We were up past 10PM for three nights of four. I can't say that our managers will get their full measure of our work today, but we'll make good.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Honey, I'm going to mow the picnic table
We drove to and from Florence to pick up Lily and bring her to our house for the night. It was stormy with thunder, lightning, and heavy rain. Occasionally, the rain would lessen and we could see the tops of the hills clipped by clouds. The travel was often treacherous, particularly as we went through Worcester where the highway is narrowed by construction work. Remember, this is Massachusetts when, even in good weather, lane markings, breakdown lanes, stop lights, turn signals, and speed limits are pretty much just suggestions for other people. So, we had scary moments with trucks to our right, Jersey barriers to our left, and lots of water above, below, and in between.
But we arrived home safely around 10PM and got Lily safely home into our guest room. The house was cool.
At breakfast we gathered at the table by the window and marveled at the lushness of the yard. During the winter we sprinkle bird seed on a picnic table on the back deck, in addition to the seed in the feeders. A few seeds, stuck in table top, have sprouted. If the rains continue, we'll have this soon.
Lily is confident and article, so much so that I'm likely to forget that she is still five. On the way home, we were talking about what we'd have for breakfast. "Mac and cheese?" I asked. I think she took me seriously, or maybe she was just bringing the joke back to me. While I was getting the cereal on the table, she brought me a box of Mac and cheese.
And now, I'm at work. This is a blog about work. This day will go quickly as I try to get my various projects into a known state by day's end - knowing what I know and knowing what I don't know. It was explained to me that there are four stages of wisdom, in descending order:
But we arrived home safely around 10PM and got Lily safely home into our guest room. The house was cool.
At breakfast we gathered at the table by the window and marveled at the lushness of the yard. During the winter we sprinkle bird seed on a picnic table on the back deck, in addition to the seed in the feeders. A few seeds, stuck in table top, have sprouted. If the rains continue, we'll have this soon.
Lily is confident and article, so much so that I'm likely to forget that she is still five. On the way home, we were talking about what we'd have for breakfast. "Mac and cheese?" I asked. I think she took me seriously, or maybe she was just bringing the joke back to me. While I was getting the cereal on the table, she brought me a box of Mac and cheese.
And now, I'm at work. This is a blog about work. This day will go quickly as I try to get my various projects into a known state by day's end - knowing what I know and knowing what I don't know. It was explained to me that there are four stages of wisdom, in descending order:
- Knowing
- Knowing what I don't know
- Knowing what I know
- Not knowing what I don't know
There are variants on that, theories of complex systems and such. For another day, though. I need to get to work.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
A night of music
On Tuesday we had the air conditioners doing the full-tilt boogie. This morning, if we were going to be at home for the day, we'd need a fire in the stove. Which reminds me, I need to clean my father's chimney. He mentioned that the chimney hadn't been cleaned for a couple of years. Imagine that. Two years ago (when he was 89) he was getting on the roof to run a set of brushes down the chimney.
Last night we went to a recital. Michael and Krista were outstanding. Music is about hitting the right notes, but, perhaps more importantly, it's about rhythm. Both pieces were rhythmically demanding and they met the challenges wonderfully.
Several people from our former church attended the recital, cheering on one of the children from the congregation. It's like seeing an flame from long ago. We were alternately thrilled and reminded why we had left that church. But the night wasn't about the adults and their weirdnesses. It was about the kids and their music.
Speaking of weirdness and music, Gizmodo brings us this collection of music and machines and whatever.
This is wrong at so many levels - a squirrel decanter.
Adam and Jennie are on their way to Hawaii. Jennie's mother, Diane, is watching Lily today. We'll pick up Lily this evening and have her with us for a couple of days. Sandra and Lily may have their nails done tomorrow (although probably not like this). Tomorrow night we'll sleep at the camp. Lily will then go to Mike and Lynn's for an overnight on Saturday. We'll return her to Diane on Sunday, but not before we have a Father's Day pizza party at M&L's.
Last night we went to a recital. Michael and Krista were outstanding. Music is about hitting the right notes, but, perhaps more importantly, it's about rhythm. Both pieces were rhythmically demanding and they met the challenges wonderfully.
Several people from our former church attended the recital, cheering on one of the children from the congregation. It's like seeing an flame from long ago. We were alternately thrilled and reminded why we had left that church. But the night wasn't about the adults and their weirdnesses. It was about the kids and their music.
Speaking of weirdness and music, Gizmodo brings us this collection of music and machines and whatever.
This is wrong at so many levels - a squirrel decanter.
Adam and Jennie are on their way to Hawaii. Jennie's mother, Diane, is watching Lily today. We'll pick up Lily this evening and have her with us for a couple of days. Sandra and Lily may have their nails done tomorrow (although probably not like this). Tomorrow night we'll sleep at the camp. Lily will then go to Mike and Lynn's for an overnight on Saturday. We'll return her to Diane on Sunday, but not before we have a Father's Day pizza party at M&L's.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Something old. Something new.
We've recently purchased appliances at Sears, so Sears is now sending us love letters of all sorts. Yesterday we received a packet of coupons for discounts on various products, including jewelry. Thanks, but I have all the jewelry that I need. Sandra and I bought our wedding rings at Sears and they're working just fine.
When I bought this laptop last year, I also bought a 64MB USB drive. For those of you who haven't seen one, a USB drive is a little gadget that plugs into your computer and lets you store and transfer files and programs. You used to need a floppy disk to carry files to and from your work and home computers, for example. Well, the drive that I got yesterday holds 16 times the stuff that my year-old USB drive holds and costs less. I paid just over $60 for a 1GB drive.
As one technology columnist often observes, the future of technology is coming at us so quickly that we can't afford to blink.
I used to visit my aunt and uncle in St. Albans, Vermont. St. Albans in the upper-left corner, on Lake Champlain, and one town from Canada. Up there I could watch the Red Sox games broadcast in French from Montréal. (The Expos hadn't come and gone yet.) One day I turned on the radio and found a station from Plattsburg, New York, across the lake. They broadcasting a baseball game, but it was the Yankees game and they were playing someone like Cleveland. I was shocked. It was as though I had picked up Radio Moscow. Did people really listen to baseball games where the Red Sox were not playing? Was it legal for stations to do only Yankees games? I've calmed down since then, but it still doesn't feel quite right.
As I stood in the check-out line at Wal-Mart this past weekend, I noticed that White Owl is selling flavored cigars. Grape. Peach. Chocolate. Mocho Mint. All of that is just so wrong at so many levels.
The hamster will see you now.
Let me see if I've got this right. Come to Me, ye who are weary and heavy-laden and making more than $25,000 a year.
According to a story on NPR, McDonald's is sending Ronald McDonald on an mission to try to encourage kids to exercise more. Ronald wasn't available for comment, so they went to the next best, Richard Simmons. About Ronald, Simmons said, "He stole my Afro!"
When I bought this laptop last year, I also bought a 64MB USB drive. For those of you who haven't seen one, a USB drive is a little gadget that plugs into your computer and lets you store and transfer files and programs. You used to need a floppy disk to carry files to and from your work and home computers, for example. Well, the drive that I got yesterday holds 16 times the stuff that my year-old USB drive holds and costs less. I paid just over $60 for a 1GB drive.
As one technology columnist often observes, the future of technology is coming at us so quickly that we can't afford to blink.
I used to visit my aunt and uncle in St. Albans, Vermont. St. Albans in the upper-left corner, on Lake Champlain, and one town from Canada. Up there I could watch the Red Sox games broadcast in French from Montréal. (The Expos hadn't come and gone yet.) One day I turned on the radio and found a station from Plattsburg, New York, across the lake. They broadcasting a baseball game, but it was the Yankees game and they were playing someone like Cleveland. I was shocked. It was as though I had picked up Radio Moscow. Did people really listen to baseball games where the Red Sox were not playing? Was it legal for stations to do only Yankees games? I've calmed down since then, but it still doesn't feel quite right.
As I stood in the check-out line at Wal-Mart this past weekend, I noticed that White Owl is selling flavored cigars. Grape. Peach. Chocolate. Mocho Mint. All of that is just so wrong at so many levels.
The hamster will see you now.
Let me see if I've got this right. Come to Me, ye who are weary and heavy-laden and making more than $25,000 a year.
According to a story on NPR, McDonald's is sending Ronald McDonald on an mission to try to encourage kids to exercise more. Ronald wasn't available for comment, so they went to the next best, Richard Simmons. About Ronald, Simmons said, "He stole my Afro!"
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Carpe diem,with mustard, relish, and onions
I've received reports about layoffs at IBM. Several former co-workers were told that they had 30 days to find a new job within the company or they'd be moving on. There had been a flurry of activity in LinkedIn, presaging the news. I may not be able to provide direct employment leads, but I'll do what I can. And while doing that, I can also provide moral support. A few years ago, friend T. was a spectator at the Boston Marathon. (She's now training for an Ironman next month.) A little girl on the side of the road held a sign that said, "Run."
Dianne Williamson, a columnist for the Worcester Telegram, quotes a Fox news analyst as saying that Michael Jackson “dabbed tears from his nose.” 'Nuff said.
With the help of a bit software called ReplayRadio, I am recording Internet radio broadcasts and then listening to them on my iPod. I've had a favorite set of college radio shows, some from UMass-Amherst, some from a station in Los Altos Hills (near San Jose).
The North Pole is leaving Canada, heading for Russia at a brisk clip. Santa was seen listening to a set of Russian language tapes, brushing up on his ГО, ГО, ГО.
It's now Dr. Steven Tyler. And check out picture #14 while you're at it. (Thanks, Bill.)
In the What-are-they-thinking? Dept., why would Gatorade use the guitar riff from House of the Rising Sun in an ad about an Ironman event in Hawaii?
Of course, if you're in an Ironman, a marathon, or a half-marathon, you can listen to any music you darn well please. Cue the applause as Adam and Jennie prepare for their races on Sunday.
Happy Birthday, John.
Some 30 years ago, I wrote a poem. It's the only one of mine that I remember.So, carpe diem.
Keep laughing
or they'll have your heart for breakfast.
Keep laughing
or the leftovers'll yours for lunch.
Dianne Williamson, a columnist for the Worcester Telegram, quotes a Fox news analyst as saying that Michael Jackson “dabbed tears from his nose.” 'Nuff said.
With the help of a bit software called ReplayRadio, I am recording Internet radio broadcasts and then listening to them on my iPod. I've had a favorite set of college radio shows, some from UMass-Amherst, some from a station in Los Altos Hills (near San Jose).
The North Pole is leaving Canada, heading for Russia at a brisk clip. Santa was seen listening to a set of Russian language tapes, brushing up on his ГО, ГО, ГО.
It's now Dr. Steven Tyler. And check out picture #14 while you're at it. (Thanks, Bill.)
In the What-are-they-thinking? Dept., why would Gatorade use the guitar riff from House of the Rising Sun in an ad about an Ironman event in Hawaii?
Of course, if you're in an Ironman, a marathon, or a half-marathon, you can listen to any music you darn well please. Cue the applause as Adam and Jennie prepare for their races on Sunday.
Happy Birthday, John.
Monday, June 13, 2005
"Less is only more where more is no good" - FLW
Sandra returned late Saturday night from her most excellent adventure to Fallingwater. She brought back great stories about the fascinating and quirky details that make up not only this architectural masterpiece, but also the genius behind it. Sandra also reports that Pennsylvania drivers obey the speed limits. We've heard of such things, but hadn't seen them in the wild.
A couple of days ago, my father tripped while carrying a gasoline can and pulled a muscle in his leg. The gasoline spilled all over him. He got home and washed his clothes. As the machine entered the rinse cycle, it stopped. He was left with a load of wet, soapy, almost-not-gasoline-soaked clothes. He is using an umbrella for cane. His friend, E., owns a funeral parlor and has a large selection of canes left by customers who didn't need them any more. We'll be doing my father's laundry and grocery shopping for a while.
Thanks to Adam, we now have an "As Seen on TV" remote motion detector at the camp. It, um, detects motion. It picks up activity within 20 feet or so, enough to detect a car or a person in the parking area and sends a signal to a noise-making unit in the camp. Equally importantl, it's quiet when it's supposed to be quiet.
I was cutting up some scrap wood with the table saw in the boathouse. The wood was just a bit too thick (2x6s) for the blade that was in the saw. The blade bound up and stopped. Brushing away the dust (saw and otherwise), I found the reset button, tried again, jammed it again, and then blew a fuse. My father has some other blades at his house, so this project is on hold for a week or so. I don't know the age of the saw, a Sears Craftsman. It was my grandfather's. The Old Gent, as my father called him, (Vaari, as I called him) mounted the on/off switch upside down on the saw frame. There was a good reason for it, I'm sure, probably like the reason that some gas fittings are reverse-threaded. (I'll rant about reverse-threading another time.)
Our neighbor was out raking the lake on Saturday afternoon. Pollen had settled in whorls and swirls on his shoreline, as it had done on ours. They were having company that evening. So, to ensure that the guests would have a good swimming experience, our neighbor was in the water with a leaf rake, moving the pollen into our little cove.
The local weekly paper prints a report of the calls that come into the police station. While TV news is dealing with issues such as African debt relief, the war in Iraq, and nuclear missles in North Korea, here's what's troubling folks in the Wachusett region:
In the not-just-for-medical-professionals department, here are some clever, if not creepy gauze masks.
A couple of days ago, my father tripped while carrying a gasoline can and pulled a muscle in his leg. The gasoline spilled all over him. He got home and washed his clothes. As the machine entered the rinse cycle, it stopped. He was left with a load of wet, soapy, almost-not-gasoline-soaked clothes. He is using an umbrella for cane. His friend, E., owns a funeral parlor and has a large selection of canes left by customers who didn't need them any more. We'll be doing my father's laundry and grocery shopping for a while.
Thanks to Adam, we now have an "As Seen on TV" remote motion detector at the camp. It, um, detects motion. It picks up activity within 20 feet or so, enough to detect a car or a person in the parking area and sends a signal to a noise-making unit in the camp. Equally importantl, it's quiet when it's supposed to be quiet.
I was cutting up some scrap wood with the table saw in the boathouse. The wood was just a bit too thick (2x6s) for the blade that was in the saw. The blade bound up and stopped. Brushing away the dust (saw and otherwise), I found the reset button, tried again, jammed it again, and then blew a fuse. My father has some other blades at his house, so this project is on hold for a week or so. I don't know the age of the saw, a Sears Craftsman. It was my grandfather's. The Old Gent, as my father called him, (Vaari, as I called him) mounted the on/off switch upside down on the saw frame. There was a good reason for it, I'm sure, probably like the reason that some gas fittings are reverse-threaded. (I'll rant about reverse-threading another time.)
Our neighbor was out raking the lake on Saturday afternoon. Pollen had settled in whorls and swirls on his shoreline, as it had done on ours. They were having company that evening. So, to ensure that the guests would have a good swimming experience, our neighbor was in the water with a leaf rake, moving the pollen into our little cove.
The local weekly paper prints a report of the calls that come into the police station. While TV news is dealing with issues such as African debt relief, the war in Iraq, and nuclear missles in North Korea, here's what's troubling folks in the Wachusett region:
- 911 report of ducklings in the sewer drain.
- Woman comes in to the police station at 3PM to report motorist driving erratically that morning.
- Skateboarder "with an attitude" at a local school.
- Radio interference.
In the not-just-for-medical-professionals department, here are some clever, if not creepy gauze masks.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Fearful brown bottle! Its sting presages a scar -- a new lesson learned.
A morning in a quiet house. Sandra is on an adventure with a friend to visit Fallingwater, the house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, near Pittsburgh. They left early this morning to fly from Providence.
This morning's automatic search for a technical documentation job produced these:
Marley's having such a great time at the Island, going everywhere that Woody and Marian go, whether it's a walk down the lane, a ride into town, or stroll behind the self-propelled lawn mower. Our house is empty, just the two of us, for the first time in, like, ever. Sandra and I have talked a lot about getting another pet. There are rescue programs that need foster homes for various breeds of dog. (Dunno about cats.) In any case, if we do get another pet, it'll be a traditional on and not something such as Mike the Headless Chicken.
Buzzword Bingo (and its PG-13 cousin) have been around the business world for a while. Basically, you get a Bingo card with commonly-overused words and phrases. When you hear the word or phrase, you mark your card. When you have five marks in a row, you get to shout "Bingo." Tim Russert was the Class Day speaker at Harvard this week and delivered a speech that has a lot in common with other speeches he's given. Naturally, the best and brightest jumped into action and created Tim Russert Bingo.
My manager and I get along well. When he stops by my cube, usually unannounced, he always sees something interesting on my computer screen. Late yesterday afternoon, he saw an Emacs window full of Perl code. That I had no idea what I was doing and that the code wasn't working didn't come up in conversation.
On the ride home yesterday, I listened to samples from the Periodic Table of Haiku. It's not as good as The Elements by Tom Lehrer, but it was a good distraction from the wackiness of my fellow commuters.
This morning's automatic search for a technical documentation job produced these:
- Biohazard Safety Manager - "Develop emergency response policies for spills and exposures to such chemical/radiological materials such as chemotherapeutic agents, isotopes and hazardous chemical materials."
- Maintenance & Sanitation Manager - Five (5) years supervisory experience in a nutraceutical / pharmaceutical manufacturing environment required. Must have experience working with equipment used in the manufacture, bottling and packaging of dietary supplements and powders.
Marley's having such a great time at the Island, going everywhere that Woody and Marian go, whether it's a walk down the lane, a ride into town, or stroll behind the self-propelled lawn mower. Our house is empty, just the two of us, for the first time in, like, ever. Sandra and I have talked a lot about getting another pet. There are rescue programs that need foster homes for various breeds of dog. (Dunno about cats.) In any case, if we do get another pet, it'll be a traditional on and not something such as Mike the Headless Chicken.
Buzzword Bingo (and its PG-13 cousin) have been around the business world for a while. Basically, you get a Bingo card with commonly-overused words and phrases. When you hear the word or phrase, you mark your card. When you have five marks in a row, you get to shout "Bingo." Tim Russert was the Class Day speaker at Harvard this week and delivered a speech that has a lot in common with other speeches he's given. Naturally, the best and brightest jumped into action and created Tim Russert Bingo.
My manager and I get along well. When he stops by my cube, usually unannounced, he always sees something interesting on my computer screen. Late yesterday afternoon, he saw an Emacs window full of Perl code. That I had no idea what I was doing and that the code wasn't working didn't come up in conversation.
On the ride home yesterday, I listened to samples from the Periodic Table of Haiku. It's not as good as The Elements by Tom Lehrer, but it was a good distraction from the wackiness of my fellow commuters.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
How high the moon
Mornings are simpler by a couple of steps. With Marley off frolicking in the Great White North for the summer, I don't have to hurry to feed a hungry dog. And, finally, we don't need a fire in the wood stove. Mornings are simpler and simpler is good.
The early corn from Florida is starting to show up in the stores. Of course, it isn't as good as corn fresh from the field, but it's still pretty tasty. Boiling water on a steamy day isn't a good idea, so I tried cooking the corn in the microwave. The Betty Crocker cookbook is handy for many things, but not for microwave cooking. A quick Google search showed me that I should cook corn, in the husks, on full power for about a minute-and-a-half per ear. Once again, the Web proves to be the source of all that is good and wise.
I had a good chat with my manager yesterday afternoon. It started off as a discussion about the lack of a spell checker in the latest AOL Instant Messenger and led through lots of turns - nuclear submarines and Soviet space programs, networking (personal and systems) at Digital, MIT graduates as a breed apart, self-absorbed bloggers - and ended with his mentioning that he'd spoken favorably about me to his boss. There might be a permanent opening, but I'll keep my hopes in check.
Today marks a couple of events, one tragic and the other pleasant. In 1953 a tornado struck Worcester, killing 94 people. In 1915 Les Paul was born. I had played a Les Paul guitar once; it belonged to a friend in college. Sweet, smooth sound and action.
The early corn from Florida is starting to show up in the stores. Of course, it isn't as good as corn fresh from the field, but it's still pretty tasty. Boiling water on a steamy day isn't a good idea, so I tried cooking the corn in the microwave. The Betty Crocker cookbook is handy for many things, but not for microwave cooking. A quick Google search showed me that I should cook corn, in the husks, on full power for about a minute-and-a-half per ear. Once again, the Web proves to be the source of all that is good and wise.
I had a good chat with my manager yesterday afternoon. It started off as a discussion about the lack of a spell checker in the latest AOL Instant Messenger and led through lots of turns - nuclear submarines and Soviet space programs, networking (personal and systems) at Digital, MIT graduates as a breed apart, self-absorbed bloggers - and ended with his mentioning that he'd spoken favorably about me to his boss. There might be a permanent opening, but I'll keep my hopes in check.
Today marks a couple of events, one tragic and the other pleasant. In 1953 a tornado struck Worcester, killing 94 people. In 1915 Les Paul was born. I had played a Les Paul guitar once; it belonged to a friend in college. Sweet, smooth sound and action.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Hitting the market window, like a bird
The most common mispronunciation of our last name is Hakkarainian, making the name sound Armenian. Now, even my automated job searches are getting into the act.
Marian reports that Marley came upstairs at five yesterday morning and licked her face.
With the Red Sox doing the Curly Shuffle in St. Louis again last night, we watched a good show about Hawaii on Globe Trekker. At one point, a Hawaiian girl was helping host Megan McCormick gather wild flowers for a lei. As a part of a deeply traditional and spiritual ritual, Megan would bring the lei as a gift to the people hosting a luau. The girl was collecting the flowers in a Wal-Mart plastic bag.
And, in other world news, Hindus marry toads, hope for rain.
I don't know why the U.S. Customs folks let this guy in the country, but I'm pretty sure I know why Canada didn't want him: Man with what appeared to be a bloody chain saw let into U.S. - Crime & Punishment - MSNBC.com
Fight ageism by looking younger, this guy says. I really hope that it's a joke. "Guys, don't forget about your moustache. Generally, it looks best if you color your hair your original color." "A good face lift makes you look 10 years younger and lasts a long time." And women should fight sexism how? And people of color should fight racism how? And if you're short, well, you could try various stretching techniques.
Today is a very special day in Dilbert's life. It's the birthday of Scott Adams. (Today's title is from a Dilbert strip.)
Marian reports that Marley came upstairs at five yesterday morning and licked her face.
With the Red Sox doing the Curly Shuffle in St. Louis again last night, we watched a good show about Hawaii on Globe Trekker. At one point, a Hawaiian girl was helping host Megan McCormick gather wild flowers for a lei. As a part of a deeply traditional and spiritual ritual, Megan would bring the lei as a gift to the people hosting a luau. The girl was collecting the flowers in a Wal-Mart plastic bag.
And, in other world news, Hindus marry toads, hope for rain.
I don't know why the U.S. Customs folks let this guy in the country, but I'm pretty sure I know why Canada didn't want him: Man with what appeared to be a bloody chain saw let into U.S. - Crime & Punishment - MSNBC.com
Fight ageism by looking younger, this guy says. I really hope that it's a joke. "Guys, don't forget about your moustache. Generally, it looks best if you color your hair your original color." "A good face lift makes you look 10 years younger and lasts a long time." And women should fight sexism how? And people of color should fight racism how? And if you're short, well, you could try various stretching techniques.
Today is a very special day in Dilbert's life. It's the birthday of Scott Adams. (Today's title is from a Dilbert strip.)
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Science projects
With just the two of us at home now, leftovers in the refrigerator are more likely to wind up as little bags and dishes of "What's This?" It might be simpler to put the food straight into the dishwasher and eat from there.
At yesterday's doctor's appointment, we decided to change some medications, eliminating one product and returning to another that I'd used a couple of years ago. The side effects are riskier, but the stuff worked well. It's also expensive, with a month's supply more than $250. Thank goodness for insurance.
After hearing a radio interview with Dr. Peter Kramer, I ordered and have started reading his new book, Against Depression. I'm not far enough along to have a real opinion about the book yet. Among his key points is that depression is no more ennobling than myopia or shingles. I'll have more comments about the book as I move through it.
And with the Red Sox playing the way that they are, I'm going to have more time for reading. The Sox are in St. Louis, scene of last year's glorious victory. Last night's game was, well, all too common. I have family in the St. Louis area, my father's brother's family. I hope that they're enjoying the series.
Let me see if I've got this right. Citigroup sends millions of customer records on an unencrypted tape via UPS. Why not just send blank checks to the bad guys and cut out the middleman?
At yesterday's doctor's appointment, we decided to change some medications, eliminating one product and returning to another that I'd used a couple of years ago. The side effects are riskier, but the stuff worked well. It's also expensive, with a month's supply more than $250. Thank goodness for insurance.
After hearing a radio interview with Dr. Peter Kramer, I ordered and have started reading his new book, Against Depression. I'm not far enough along to have a real opinion about the book yet. Among his key points is that depression is no more ennobling than myopia or shingles. I'll have more comments about the book as I move through it.
And with the Red Sox playing the way that they are, I'm going to have more time for reading. The Sox are in St. Louis, scene of last year's glorious victory. Last night's game was, well, all too common. I have family in the St. Louis area, my father's brother's family. I hope that they're enjoying the series.
Let me see if I've got this right. Citigroup sends millions of customer records on an unencrypted tape via UPS. Why not just send blank checks to the bad guys and cut out the middleman?
Monday, June 06, 2005
Pulling the start cord on the lawnmower of life
Adam, Jennie, and Lily came for a visit, dinner, and sauna at the camp on Saturday. I cooked some steaks on the outside grill and they came out well. Adam's helping us with the installation of the new gas cooktop. I got tired just thinking about his day on Saturday. He worked the overnight shift, ran 15 miles after work, slept for a few hours, and drove to see us. We made sure that he had an extra cup of coffee for the ride home.
In two weeks, they will have completed their fund-raising race. Adam's slated to run a marathon, Jennie a half-marathon, as a fund-raiser for stroke research.
My father and his friends built a massive stone fireplace at the camp. The mortar was mixed by a long-time friend, a fellow who still visits my father for sauna every few weeks. (The friend is up in Hudson's Bay this week, visiting with the Cree Indians.) Anyway, this friend was new to mixing mortar. As a result, little white flakes and chunks have been falling off the fireplace for 60 years. My father grumbles about it, good-naturedly, mostly. When we are cleaning up, we mutter this guy's name. We're passing the info along to Mike and Adam, so the next generations can continue the grumbling.
The hydrangea that Sandra planted by the boathouse is coming back. The small hemlocks along the paths have fresh green tips of new growth. Sandra found another trillium in the woods. She reports that the ground is very wet, even a couple of hundred feet from the water's edge.
We met with the contractor about putting a road from our parking area to the back of the camp. He gave us can of orange spray paint which we used to mark the trees that we wanted cut down. It'll be both exhilarating and saddening to have the trees come down, opening us to much more sunlight. We didn't keep count, but it may be three or four dozen trees that are slated to come down. They're tall trees in many cases, near power lines or the camp. It's work that's best donw by professionals.
Saturday was calm. (Or, as they say in PEI, "Cam, dear.") We had a canoe ride, gliding smoothly through the pollen that coat the water in the cove. There were several boats on the lake, including Elden and my father. The sun was strong and warm.
Screwdrivers have legs and bad homing instincts. Afer the the lawn mover would start, I wanted to remove the air filter and open up the butterfly valve a bit. No flathead screwdriver. Fortunately I had my Swiss army knife. Even more fortunately, my father showed up so I didn't have time to do the mowing. Next week, for sure.
So, my father, who reminds us that when he was a kid, commercial radio didn't exist, is thinking of giving up his landline phone for a cell phone. We have a few more details to resolve, including the setup of his voice mail. It could be a very good idea, saving him $20-$30 per month. Or, it could be something else.
After all that tumult of the weekend, it's easy to forget that it's time to go back to work. I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon. I'm ready, as are those around me who've been patient andkind Knowing what's not working doesn't automatically translate into knowing what does.
In two weeks, they will have completed their fund-raising race. Adam's slated to run a marathon, Jennie a half-marathon, as a fund-raiser for stroke research.
My father and his friends built a massive stone fireplace at the camp. The mortar was mixed by a long-time friend, a fellow who still visits my father for sauna every few weeks. (The friend is up in Hudson's Bay this week, visiting with the Cree Indians.) Anyway, this friend was new to mixing mortar. As a result, little white flakes and chunks have been falling off the fireplace for 60 years. My father grumbles about it, good-naturedly, mostly. When we are cleaning up, we mutter this guy's name. We're passing the info along to Mike and Adam, so the next generations can continue the grumbling.
The hydrangea that Sandra planted by the boathouse is coming back. The small hemlocks along the paths have fresh green tips of new growth. Sandra found another trillium in the woods. She reports that the ground is very wet, even a couple of hundred feet from the water's edge.
We met with the contractor about putting a road from our parking area to the back of the camp. He gave us can of orange spray paint which we used to mark the trees that we wanted cut down. It'll be both exhilarating and saddening to have the trees come down, opening us to much more sunlight. We didn't keep count, but it may be three or four dozen trees that are slated to come down. They're tall trees in many cases, near power lines or the camp. It's work that's best donw by professionals.
Saturday was calm. (Or, as they say in PEI, "Cam, dear.") We had a canoe ride, gliding smoothly through the pollen that coat the water in the cove. There were several boats on the lake, including Elden and my father. The sun was strong and warm.
Screwdrivers have legs and bad homing instincts. Afer the the lawn mover would start, I wanted to remove the air filter and open up the butterfly valve a bit. No flathead screwdriver. Fortunately I had my Swiss army knife. Even more fortunately, my father showed up so I didn't have time to do the mowing. Next week, for sure.
So, my father, who reminds us that when he was a kid, commercial radio didn't exist, is thinking of giving up his landline phone for a cell phone. We have a few more details to resolve, including the setup of his voice mail. It could be a very good idea, saving him $20-$30 per month. Or, it could be something else.
After all that tumult of the weekend, it's easy to forget that it's time to go back to work. I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon. I'm ready, as are those around me who've been patient andkind Knowing what's not working doesn't automatically translate into knowing what does.
Friday, June 03, 2005
It was the third of June ...
It would be an interesting way to consume precious hours of life to collect a list of song that have dates featured in them. Today's selection is that sultry Sixties classic, Ode to Billie Jo. The only other song phrase that comes to mind right away is "the first of December was covered with snow," from James Taylor's Sweet Baby James.
When I was growing up, we had boxes of Finnish folk songs on dusty 78s. I used the rest of the records for target practice with my BB gun. Of course, everything old is new again. Now you can download MP3 versions of venerable tunes such as Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag, He'd Have to Get Under - Get Out and Get Under (to Fix Up His Automobile), and Yes! We Have No Bananas.
The BBC is playing the complete works of Beethoven and making those performances available for download.
Before the iPod, before the Walkman, I had a pocket transistor radio. This would have been in the early 60s, when Japanese radios were still something of a novelty. My radio had an earphone. So, much as I do now, I would walk along with the earphone in place, listening to music. Such a small radio couldn't reliably pick up WMEX in Boston, so I'd listen to WORC in Worcester. (At night the whole eastern U.S. was in range.) When I was wearing a jacket or long-sleeved shirt, I could run the earphone cord down my arm and then lean my head against my hand. I was once more in a world of my own.
One time I was walking through South Gardner. A woman stopped me and said, "Oh, you poor boy, needing a hearing aid at your age." When I tried to explain that it was a radio, she walked away quickly, apparently not liking having her sympathy rejected.
When I was growing up, we had boxes of Finnish folk songs on dusty 78s. I used the rest of the records for target practice with my BB gun. Of course, everything old is new again. Now you can download MP3 versions of venerable tunes such as Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag, He'd Have to Get Under - Get Out and Get Under (to Fix Up His Automobile), and Yes! We Have No Bananas.
The BBC is playing the complete works of Beethoven and making those performances available for download.
Before the iPod, before the Walkman, I had a pocket transistor radio. This would have been in the early 60s, when Japanese radios were still something of a novelty. My radio had an earphone. So, much as I do now, I would walk along with the earphone in place, listening to music. Such a small radio couldn't reliably pick up WMEX in Boston, so I'd listen to WORC in Worcester. (At night the whole eastern U.S. was in range.) When I was wearing a jacket or long-sleeved shirt, I could run the earphone cord down my arm and then lean my head against my hand. I was once more in a world of my own.
One time I was walking through South Gardner. A woman stopped me and said, "Oh, you poor boy, needing a hearing aid at your age." When I tried to explain that it was a radio, she walked away quickly, apparently not liking having her sympathy rejected.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
How much is 10% of someone else's income?
Showing that you can get someone to pay you to do almost anything, blogging is becoming a paid position at many companies.
Or, you could just buy 10% of someone's income.
As Marley runs through the acres (hectares) of fields and woods along the shore line, I hope he gives thought to the other dogs who are struggling to get into doggie day care.
"Don't make me get the Portable Time-Out Mat!"
The guys from QE will throw out the first pitch at Fenway Park this coming Sunday. Maybe they can stay and help with the pitching for the rest of the game. True to their DNA, the Red Sox have had spectacularly uneven pitching this season. Tim Wakefield's 9-3 loss last night is a classic example. Knuckle balls that don't knuckle are heading for Lansdowne Street.
Hitting has been the strength of the Red Sox for the last 50-60 years. Not pitching, although there have been some greats. Luis Tiant, of course, with his twisting delivery that had him looking into center field before the pitch. Bill Lee, who'd throw 75 junk pitches in a complete game. Clemens, a first-ballot Hall-of-Famer but with the attitude of a teenage hood. Jim Lonborg, Bill Monbouquette, Dick Radatz. Defense could be, um, interesting, with Dick Stuart, aka 'Dr. Stranglove' aka 'Clank,' and Don Buddin, for whom his teammates made a special license plate 'E-4.'
Those who care probably don't need to be told, but Krispy Kreme is giving away a donut to each visit tomorrow (3 June).
There were people at the college reunion weekend who used avuncular and schadenfreude as though they were real words.
Sandra has brought in sweet-smelling flowers from our yard - Purple Flag Iris and Lily of the Valley. The year that we were married, Sandra's mother was concerned that the lilacs wouldn't stay in bloom until the wedding; they just barely made it. This year, with the much colder May, the lilacs are still colorful and fragrant.
Happy Birthday, Lori.
Or, you could just buy 10% of someone's income.
As Marley runs through the acres (hectares) of fields and woods along the shore line, I hope he gives thought to the other dogs who are struggling to get into doggie day care.
"Don't make me get the Portable Time-Out Mat!"
The guys from QE will throw out the first pitch at Fenway Park this coming Sunday. Maybe they can stay and help with the pitching for the rest of the game. True to their DNA, the Red Sox have had spectacularly uneven pitching this season. Tim Wakefield's 9-3 loss last night is a classic example. Knuckle balls that don't knuckle are heading for Lansdowne Street.
Hitting has been the strength of the Red Sox for the last 50-60 years. Not pitching, although there have been some greats. Luis Tiant, of course, with his twisting delivery that had him looking into center field before the pitch. Bill Lee, who'd throw 75 junk pitches in a complete game. Clemens, a first-ballot Hall-of-Famer but with the attitude of a teenage hood. Jim Lonborg, Bill Monbouquette, Dick Radatz. Defense could be, um, interesting, with Dick Stuart, aka 'Dr. Stranglove' aka 'Clank,' and Don Buddin, for whom his teammates made a special license plate 'E-4.'
Those who care probably don't need to be told, but Krispy Kreme is giving away a donut to each visit tomorrow (3 June).
There were people at the college reunion weekend who used avuncular and schadenfreude as though they were real words.
Sandra has brought in sweet-smelling flowers from our yard - Purple Flag Iris and Lily of the Valley. The year that we were married, Sandra's mother was concerned that the lilacs wouldn't stay in bloom until the wedding; they just barely made it. This year, with the much colder May, the lilacs are still colorful and fragrant.
Happy Birthday, Lori.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Sans Chien
We'll get used to it in a while and the time will pass quickly. We'll get used to not stopping on the hill so that we can let Marley run up the camp road. We'll get used eating a whole orange by ourselves. We'll get used to leaving shoes on the hearth and having them still there in the morning.
Sandra's parents reported that Marley went upstairs and all around the house after Sandra and Mike left early on Sunday morning. By then Marley had already had two baths. At the corner of the French Road, there's some mud along the Mitchell River. It's not just ordinary mud, though; it's mud with something dead in it. We're thinking of getting one of those car deodorizers and hanging it on his collar.
On Tuesday he had a ride with Woody and Marian to the Post Office in downtown Cardigan.
Mike and Sandra made excellent time, 10:15, on their return trip. The weather was good and the border crossing quick. It was a good chance for them to talk. When Sandra returned home, she said, "Karl, I'm a metric." After some fiddling with the buttons on the dashboard of her car, we figured out how to change the odometer, thermometer, and other ometers back to English measurements. It was fun to have different adventures and even better to be back home together.
I talked with quite a few people during my college's reunion weekend and hear a lot of anxiety. A lot of very successful people have graduated from there, successful in business, law, medicine, academia, and the performing arts, so it's easy to fall in the trap of comparing performance. Still, it was gratifying to look around the parking lot and see Hondas, Subarus, and Tauruses (Tauri?), to see that the Hyundais outnumbered the Porsches. These were people returning because they'd had a good time in college and wanted to reconnect with friends, faculty, and the campus.
On the ride there, I passed through different words, from Support Our Troops yellow magnetic ribbons on the backs of cars and trucks to Free Tibet bumper stickers. I passed signs that said "I buy houses" in hand-lettering. "No Title 5. No problem." Another place offered used cars and/or sanitation services.
Mount Wachusett still has a few patches of snow and wild turkeys slow traffic on the mountain road.
We bought a new new phone recently. Inside the instruction booklet was a slip of paper, "Need Help? Call Toll Free. 1(800)nnn-nnnn."
Sandra's parents reported that Marley went upstairs and all around the house after Sandra and Mike left early on Sunday morning. By then Marley had already had two baths. At the corner of the French Road, there's some mud along the Mitchell River. It's not just ordinary mud, though; it's mud with something dead in it. We're thinking of getting one of those car deodorizers and hanging it on his collar.
On Tuesday he had a ride with Woody and Marian to the Post Office in downtown Cardigan.
Mike and Sandra made excellent time, 10:15, on their return trip. The weather was good and the border crossing quick. It was a good chance for them to talk. When Sandra returned home, she said, "Karl, I'm a metric." After some fiddling with the buttons on the dashboard of her car, we figured out how to change the odometer, thermometer, and other ometers back to English measurements. It was fun to have different adventures and even better to be back home together.
I talked with quite a few people during my college's reunion weekend and hear a lot of anxiety. A lot of very successful people have graduated from there, successful in business, law, medicine, academia, and the performing arts, so it's easy to fall in the trap of comparing performance. Still, it was gratifying to look around the parking lot and see Hondas, Subarus, and Tauruses (Tauri?), to see that the Hyundais outnumbered the Porsches. These were people returning because they'd had a good time in college and wanted to reconnect with friends, faculty, and the campus.
On the ride there, I passed through different words, from Support Our Troops yellow magnetic ribbons on the backs of cars and trucks to Free Tibet bumper stickers. I passed signs that said "I buy houses" in hand-lettering. "No Title 5. No problem." Another place offered used cars and/or sanitation services.
Mount Wachusett still has a few patches of snow and wild turkeys slow traffic on the mountain road.
We bought a new new phone recently. Inside the instruction booklet was a slip of paper, "Need Help? Call Toll Free. 1(800)nnn-nnnn."
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