One of the engineers in our group sent an email at about 9:20, informing us that a plane had crashed into one of the towers in the World Trade Center. We assumed that it was a small plane that had strayed off course. We thought that for a while until word came around that a second plane had hit the other tower. We then learned that the planes were big machines - Boeing 767s. In the next hours, we learned more about the other plane crashes, the buildings and people affected, and, of course, My Pet Goat.
People in the office started asking the managers what they should or could do. A few of the managers met in my office where we held a speaker-phone call with the vice president of human resources. We asked if he or the executive management had any advice for us. He said that he would be sending a message to the company by noon. While waiting for his message, I sent email to the people on my team, telling them that they should be where they needed to be and that each person should give a hug to someone they loved.
By early afternoon, most people, including yours truly, had gone home.
Doug Gowell, a product manager from a former company, was on United Flight 175.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Work, interrupted
Simply put, I've been too sick for too long. After conversations with Sandra, with one doctor, and with another, I went on disability leave on Tuesday. Depression, it is, although I didn't use the word often. I told my manager and the one co-worker who'd be most affected by my absence. I'm not sure how long it will take for me to be well enough to be able to return to work, but it's likely to be months rather than weeks.
Sandra and the rest of my family have been wonderfully supportive. My manager and the co-worker were very encouraging. I'm also sure that people are more than a bit afraid, in part of the work that I won't be able to do and in part because the d-word is scary.
The company's policies regarding the treatment of depression and related illness are quite good, but it's still a big company.
Sandra and the rest of my family have been wonderfully supportive. My manager and the co-worker were very encouraging. I'm also sure that people are more than a bit afraid, in part of the work that I won't be able to do and in part because the d-word is scary.
The company's policies regarding the treatment of depression and related illness are quite good, but it's still a big company.
- The envelope that brought me the paperwork had a statement on the back that said "Extremely Urgent." The words UPS Express, however, were redacted and replaced with UPS Ground. Urgent, but don't hurry.
- When I called the agency that provides services for behavioral health matters, I had to provide my doctor's name to determine if he is included in the insurance plan. (He is.) To confirm the doctor's address, the very nice person on the other end of the phone said, "Wuh, Wuh, Worchester."
Monday, August 07, 2006
Of trees and music and meat and, oh, yes, work
The National Weather Service determined that Wednesday's storm was a derecho. The Worcester Telegram quoted Glenn A. Field of the NWS, "A derecho is a widespread 'family of downburst clusters' that is part of a very fast-moving, long-lived windstorm. " Derecho is a Spanish word that means "Full Employment for Anyone with A Chain Saw."
Sandra bought a chain saw on Friday. She didn't get to bring it home; almost all chain saws dealers are out of stock. Hers is on order. It has push-button assist so that it's easier to start.
That other sound you hear comes from the work deadlines whooshing past. I received an email yesterday afternoon from one of the engineers on my current project. I learned that we're not delivering 12 separate products, but one solution with 12 features. Instead of 12 books due by Wednesday, I now have one big book. In many ways, that's much better. I'd prepared for that possibility from the start.
We stopped by my father's house yesterday. On Saturday he mentioned that he'd bought a new wireless door bell, but he couldn't test how it sounded because no one was around to ring the doorbell. One friend was in Michigan, visiting family. Another two no longer drive because of health reasons. And the rest, well, you know. So, we rang the bell. It worked fine, although might not be quite loud enough if the TV is also loud.
Dr. John, aka Mac Rebennack, showed up on the music shuffle this morning. I first heard the Dr. John in the 60s when some guys at college returned from L.A. with his Gris-Gris album. The album is rich, dark, and tangled, like the backwoods of Louisiana. He's had some commercial successes and has emerged as one of the sustainers of New Orleans music, along with the Marsalis and Neville family.
Dr. John also, as certain angles, looks like our friend, Don. Enough so that when I hear the good doctor, I remember Don, even though I don't remember Don playing New Orleans or cajun music. Memories make the connections that they want to make.
Another bit from those smoke-filled years. On one of the classic rock channels, I recently heard "The Wind," by Circus Maximus. A check on the web shows that Jerry Jeff Walker played with CM. Didn't know and can hardly imagine that. "The Wind" was one of those long songs, a bit more than eight minutes, that DJs would put on the turntable when they needed to get away from the studio for a bit.
Arthur Lee, of the 60s California band, Love, recently died of leukemia. He was 61. He had a great voice, intriguing, haunting, supported by good material played by a good band. The band never achieved big commercial success, just deep respect from a dedicated group of listeners.
Vegetarians can enjoy a chuckle while we puzzle about meat.
Sandra bought a chain saw on Friday. She didn't get to bring it home; almost all chain saws dealers are out of stock. Hers is on order. It has push-button assist so that it's easier to start.
That other sound you hear comes from the work deadlines whooshing past. I received an email yesterday afternoon from one of the engineers on my current project. I learned that we're not delivering 12 separate products, but one solution with 12 features. Instead of 12 books due by Wednesday, I now have one big book. In many ways, that's much better. I'd prepared for that possibility from the start.
We stopped by my father's house yesterday. On Saturday he mentioned that he'd bought a new wireless door bell, but he couldn't test how it sounded because no one was around to ring the doorbell. One friend was in Michigan, visiting family. Another two no longer drive because of health reasons. And the rest, well, you know. So, we rang the bell. It worked fine, although might not be quite loud enough if the TV is also loud.
Dr. John, aka Mac Rebennack, showed up on the music shuffle this morning. I first heard the Dr. John in the 60s when some guys at college returned from L.A. with his Gris-Gris album. The album is rich, dark, and tangled, like the backwoods of Louisiana. He's had some commercial successes and has emerged as one of the sustainers of New Orleans music, along with the Marsalis and Neville family.
Dr. John also, as certain angles, looks like our friend, Don. Enough so that when I hear the good doctor, I remember Don, even though I don't remember Don playing New Orleans or cajun music. Memories make the connections that they want to make.
Another bit from those smoke-filled years. On one of the classic rock channels, I recently heard "The Wind," by Circus Maximus. A check on the web shows that Jerry Jeff Walker played with CM. Didn't know and can hardly imagine that. "The Wind" was one of those long songs, a bit more than eight minutes, that DJs would put on the turntable when they needed to get away from the studio for a bit.
Arthur Lee, of the 60s California band, Love, recently died of leukemia. He was 61. He had a great voice, intriguing, haunting, supported by good material played by a good band. The band never achieved big commercial success, just deep respect from a dedicated group of listeners.
Vegetarians can enjoy a chuckle while we puzzle about meat.
- It used to be that you could get spaghetti sauce that had meat in it. Rarely did they advertise what type of meat it was, but it was meat. Now, the sauces are "meat-flavored." Again, we've no clue about the type of meat. We are left to imagine a cow or a pig or a raccoon walking through a vat of marinara to give it that meal flavor.
- A friend has returned east from Washington state. He reports that, unless you bribe the kitchen staff, you can't get a restaurant to serve you a steak that's medium rare or rare. The state has decided that under-cooked meat is a terrorist threat.
So, rather than gnawing on that piece of e-coli-free shoe leather the next time you're in Seattle, you might want to have the sushi instead. (BTW, here's a video clip with the real story behind sushi in America.)
Thursday, August 03, 2006
A new way to pick apples
A severe thunderstorm bullied its way through our area yesterday afternoon. When Sandra got home from work, the driveway was blocked by some good-sized branches from the maple tree. She found Marley cowering in our bedroom upstairs. In the backyard, she found that two apples trees had been uprooted. The storm also broke a peach tree and sent it into the dog pen.
In Worcester, many roads were blocked because of downed trees and power lines. A couple of the trees looked scorched, as though they'd been hit by lightning. As far as I know, there were no injuries.
The storm followed the first-ever excessive heat warning for this area, around 100F with maybe 95% humidity. "If you listen to the TV," said Huck, "we should all be dead." As tough as work has been, I'm grateful that I work in an air-conditioned space, unlike those who have to do things such as roofing or working on road construction details.
We don't get many severe thunderstorms, but it's good to pay attention when bad weather is around. I get weather warnings sent to my cell phone and will check the radio while driving. That venerable Boston station - WBZ - is the place to go. Since they remade themselves into an all-news format during the day (with talk shows in the night), they're a pretty reliable source for local news and weather. They offer a weather report every 10 minutes and, three minutes later, a traffic check. Their traffic reports rarely cover anything on I-495 or west, but sometimes something big happens. The weather reports come from Accuweather, based in State College PA. With good radar and satellite information, along with National Weather Service feeds, you'd hardly know that they weren't looking out a window on Storrow Drive.
Until last Friday. The forecaster was getting the detail of the weather, including the march of severe thunderstorms eastward. But he kept referring to the storms in "Worchester County". Everyone knows that the city and county names are pronounced Wusta.
RIP, Cosmic Muffin
One last item, from the There Will Always Be An England Dept.: Bog Snorkeling
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Child's-eye view of project management
Every time I go to Wal-Mart, I hear the voices of my friends who play the role as my liberal conscience. I know that they make their own economic weather, that their workers at home and abroad receive low wages and depressed benefits. The aisles in the stores are too narrow and they have too few people staffing the registers. (Sam's Club is even worse.)
So, why do I go there? There are two:
Concluding a month of good fortune, I learned that my car needed some important (and expensive) repairs. The service manager called me in the afternoon to tell me that I need repairs on one thing for $260, replacement of another for $280, and yet another for $380. My tires need replacing before winter and my windshield wipers were gone. I thanked him while doing the mental calculations.
"There's more," he said. The electronics associated with the vehicle dynamics control needed replacement. "About $1100." They did some work and we postponed the rest until next week or the week after.
I like my car very much. It's fun to drive, on-road and kind-of-off. I also like the fact that it has a few dings and scrapes, that the back of the car has dog hair on the carpet and nose prints on the window. It has 135,000 miles on it now and has a good chance of going past 200K. Or, maybe not. These expenses could be the first stones that presage a landslide.
When I can, I am picking the routes that have the least amount of tree cover. Satellite radio requires a good view of the sky. The leaves on the trees can shield the signal. I bought the radio in November, when foliage wasn't an issue. On my trips to New York now, I'm more apt to chose I-84 instead of the Wilbur Cross/Merritt Parkway, because of the trees. One route from home to the camp has worse roads, but more sky.
There are times, however, when you want to park your car under a tree, in a garage, with a metal roof. Michael Bolton will be playing his favorites on the SIRIUS love channel this Thursday.
A bunch of years ago, the VP of engineering at our small company chastised me for using the phrase "tar baby" to describe a particularly bothersome project. He believed that it was a racist slur which, indeed, it has become. I was using it in the context of a child watching Song of the South on TV in the 50s. It was, to me, a white kid in an all-white rural community in central New England, a charming tale of wit defeating guile, in the same vein as Bugs Bunny vs. Elmer Fudd or Road Runner vs. Wile E. Coyote. The tar baby, in my view, was black because tar was black. Sure, there are legitimate reasons for criticizing the movie for being naively racist, but I don't think that such criticism applies to the goings-on in the briar patch. Nevertheless, "tar baby" probably deserves to be retired from our lexicon. For example, see what happens when our governor uses the phrase "tar baby" to describe the Big Dig.
So, why do I go there? There are two:
- Convenience. I can get what I need in one place at a time when I can do my shopping. Sunday I bought a circuit tester, peanut butter, and cough syrup. Wal-Mart even has a sense of humor. They had a display for Advil at the end of the toy aisle.
Spag's was great in its day, but they weren't open on Sundays until quite late in their reign. - Anthropology. The people who shop and work there are fascinating. Just one brief story - A young couple was shopping with their toddler. The toddler was screaming as though his favorite toy was being carried away by wolves. The couple , meanwhile, was trying to decide which condoms to buy.
Concluding a month of good fortune, I learned that my car needed some important (and expensive) repairs. The service manager called me in the afternoon to tell me that I need repairs on one thing for $260, replacement of another for $280, and yet another for $380. My tires need replacing before winter and my windshield wipers were gone. I thanked him while doing the mental calculations.
"There's more," he said. The electronics associated with the vehicle dynamics control needed replacement. "About $1100." They did some work and we postponed the rest until next week or the week after.
I like my car very much. It's fun to drive, on-road and kind-of-off. I also like the fact that it has a few dings and scrapes, that the back of the car has dog hair on the carpet and nose prints on the window. It has 135,000 miles on it now and has a good chance of going past 200K. Or, maybe not. These expenses could be the first stones that presage a landslide.
When I can, I am picking the routes that have the least amount of tree cover. Satellite radio requires a good view of the sky. The leaves on the trees can shield the signal. I bought the radio in November, when foliage wasn't an issue. On my trips to New York now, I'm more apt to chose I-84 instead of the Wilbur Cross/Merritt Parkway, because of the trees. One route from home to the camp has worse roads, but more sky.
There are times, however, when you want to park your car under a tree, in a garage, with a metal roof. Michael Bolton will be playing his favorites on the SIRIUS love channel this Thursday.
A bunch of years ago, the VP of engineering at our small company chastised me for using the phrase "tar baby" to describe a particularly bothersome project. He believed that it was a racist slur which, indeed, it has become. I was using it in the context of a child watching Song of the South on TV in the 50s. It was, to me, a white kid in an all-white rural community in central New England, a charming tale of wit defeating guile, in the same vein as Bugs Bunny vs. Elmer Fudd or Road Runner vs. Wile E. Coyote. The tar baby, in my view, was black because tar was black. Sure, there are legitimate reasons for criticizing the movie for being naively racist, but I don't think that such criticism applies to the goings-on in the briar patch. Nevertheless, "tar baby" probably deserves to be retired from our lexicon. For example, see what happens when our governor uses the phrase "tar baby" to describe the Big Dig.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Home and that's good
The ride back from New York was interesting as I watched Connecticut drivers practicing moves from the good folks of Massachusetts. Yesterday, for example, they gave their turn signals the day off. Then, there was the motorcyclist who did a two-fer: not only did he drive in the breakdown lane at 80 while the rest of the traffic was doing 60, he also drove solo on the Diamond Lane, reserved for vehicles with two or more passengers.
Which reminds me. Last Sunday Sandra and I stopped at The Country Store in Petersham. The store is owned and operated by the Polus Center. It has a fine deli for sandwiches and ice cream, basic groceries, and lots of gifts, most hand-crafted. When we go in, we pass a bunch of motorcycles and folks wearing leather. They weren't, however, bikers in the common use of the word. They didn't have tattoos. They appeared to have all of their teeth.
In the store, one guy took off his jacket. Now, I'm not a fashion prude, at least not too much. Some things, nevertheless, are just wrong. A guy with the demeanor of an insurance salesman shouldn't be wearing a t-shirt that says, "Bad to the bone." It's like the Monty Python sketch where Michael Palin plays a chartered accountant who figures that he's ready make a career change to lion taming because he has a hat. "A hat with 'lion tamer' on it. I got it at Harrods."
So, I'm home, soon to be at work. We're looking at possible in the rear view mirror as we move through the stunning amount of work that needs to be done by tomorrow at 5. We'll deliver something, for varying values of something.
But, I'm home and that's good.
Happy Birthday, Sandra. The world joins in the celebration.
Which reminds me. Last Sunday Sandra and I stopped at The Country Store in Petersham. The store is owned and operated by the Polus Center. It has a fine deli for sandwiches and ice cream, basic groceries, and lots of gifts, most hand-crafted. When we go in, we pass a bunch of motorcycles and folks wearing leather. They weren't, however, bikers in the common use of the word. They didn't have tattoos. They appeared to have all of their teeth.
In the store, one guy took off his jacket. Now, I'm not a fashion prude, at least not too much. Some things, nevertheless, are just wrong. A guy with the demeanor of an insurance salesman shouldn't be wearing a t-shirt that says, "Bad to the bone." It's like the Monty Python sketch where Michael Palin plays a chartered accountant who figures that he's ready make a career change to lion taming because he has a hat. "A hat with 'lion tamer' on it. I got it at Harrods."
So, I'm home, soon to be at work. We're looking at possible in the rear view mirror as we move through the stunning amount of work that needs to be done by tomorrow at 5. We'll deliver something, for varying values of something.
But, I'm home and that's good.
Happy Birthday, Sandra. The world joins in the celebration.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
View from the 13th floor
Well, it could be the 13th or even the 14th. The first floor is one floor up from the lobby. And, the lower lobby, one floor down, lets you exit to the street in the back of the hotel. The hotel staff calls this the Executive Level. The rooms aren't anything special, but we get a free breakfast buffet. (There's also a free cocktail hour, lasting three hours. I don't have any business being there, so I don't go.)
Yesterday I was drawn into a discussion about the need to add one more book to my workload. We probably need to do it, but not by Friday, when I have nine books due. This afternoon I met with the lead engineer on the product and he mentioned that there were two more components, meaning two more books. By Friday. Oh, and, did I mention that the engineer will be taking a few days off, returning next Tuesday. And that the lead engineer on my other projects will be going to India for vacation for a few weeks.
Last week I worked about 65 hours. It won't be that much this week, more like 50. Others on the team, project managers, developers, testers, and writers, are doing about the same, if not more.
Underlying it all is a customer that is very demanding regarding the quality and quantity of the documentation. At one point, we were negotiating a five-week delay in the delivery of one of the products. The customer said, fine, but give us the documentation on the original date, five weeks before the software was done. Executives to the VP level are talking about documentation.
Normally, technical writers labor in the basement of the product development world, far away from the light and heat. We're often like the blind mules working the mines, rarely brought out to meet the people at the top of the mine. We'll meet this week's deadline as best we can and the next one and the next one after that, until we're done.
While driving here, I saw several of these Kia Amantis. They remind me of the Soviet ZIL.
Also while riding, I heard Elvis do a cover the Hoyt Axton tune "Never Been to Spain." Elvis was one of the greatest performers and interpreters of music. One of the the things that happened, though, once RCA got a hold on him and his music, the record company started over-producing and over-orchestrating each song, believing that the American listened wanted such mush. The orchestration fell wet sand on this nifty song. Elvis was a great gospel singer, but the same thing happened to his gospel music, wet sand of strings and choruses. Listen to his handling of gospel classics on the Million Dollar Quartet (Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Carl Perkins) and you'll how deeply this music ran through his veins.
In the 70s the traffic circle in uptown Gardner was covered with Astro-turf (or some generic knock-off). It looked good for about a week. Then it got dirty and needed to be washed or vacuumed, for which the city had no budget. The artificial turf was replaced with asphalt after 20 years. These folks (via Joho the Blog) want to banish the stuff from the planet. Good luck. There will also be a place like Gardner that thinks that Astro-turf is a good idea.
Know anyone who needs one of these (via New Launches)? It's like a sneeze guard for your keyboard.
So, each person in Arizona who votes in the primary and/or general election will have a chance to win $1M. Central Pennsylvania blood banks will give ccoupons for free beer to people who donate blood. What's next? Nevada providing coupons to its voters for a free ticket to the Mustang Ranch or the new salon that Heidi Fleiss is opening?
My car is reaching the age that I find various spare parts on the floor. Nothing much yet under the car, but I need the radio to cover the various squeaks and groans of the suspension.
I have a nifty extension to my Firefox browser. It lets me see the time in a more sensible way. Instead of 9:45, it shows
:
Yesterday I was drawn into a discussion about the need to add one more book to my workload. We probably need to do it, but not by Friday, when I have nine books due. This afternoon I met with the lead engineer on the product and he mentioned that there were two more components, meaning two more books. By Friday. Oh, and, did I mention that the engineer will be taking a few days off, returning next Tuesday. And that the lead engineer on my other projects will be going to India for vacation for a few weeks.
Last week I worked about 65 hours. It won't be that much this week, more like 50. Others on the team, project managers, developers, testers, and writers, are doing about the same, if not more.
Underlying it all is a customer that is very demanding regarding the quality and quantity of the documentation. At one point, we were negotiating a five-week delay in the delivery of one of the products. The customer said, fine, but give us the documentation on the original date, five weeks before the software was done. Executives to the VP level are talking about documentation.
Normally, technical writers labor in the basement of the product development world, far away from the light and heat. We're often like the blind mules working the mines, rarely brought out to meet the people at the top of the mine. We'll meet this week's deadline as best we can and the next one and the next one after that, until we're done.
While driving here, I saw several of these Kia Amantis. They remind me of the Soviet ZIL.
Also while riding, I heard Elvis do a cover the Hoyt Axton tune "Never Been to Spain." Elvis was one of the greatest performers and interpreters of music. One of the the things that happened, though, once RCA got a hold on him and his music, the record company started over-producing and over-orchestrating each song, believing that the American listened wanted such mush. The orchestration fell wet sand on this nifty song. Elvis was a great gospel singer, but the same thing happened to his gospel music, wet sand of strings and choruses. Listen to his handling of gospel classics on the Million Dollar Quartet (Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Carl Perkins) and you'll how deeply this music ran through his veins.
In the 70s the traffic circle in uptown Gardner was covered with Astro-turf (or some generic knock-off). It looked good for about a week. Then it got dirty and needed to be washed or vacuumed, for which the city had no budget. The artificial turf was replaced with asphalt after 20 years. These folks (via Joho the Blog) want to banish the stuff from the planet. Good luck. There will also be a place like Gardner that thinks that Astro-turf is a good idea.
Know anyone who needs one of these (via New Launches)? It's like a sneeze guard for your keyboard.
So, each person in Arizona who votes in the primary and/or general election will have a chance to win $1M. Central Pennsylvania blood banks will give ccoupons for free beer to people who donate blood. What's next? Nevada providing coupons to its voters for a free ticket to the Mustang Ranch or the new salon that Heidi Fleiss is opening?
My car is reaching the age that I find various spare parts on the floor. Nothing much yet under the car, but I need the radio to cover the various squeaks and groans of the suspension.
I have a nifty extension to my Firefox browser. It lets me see the time in a more sensible way. Instead of 9:45, it shows
:
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
About drugs 'n stuff
Signs that I may be a bit too familiar with the world of prescription drugs:
- When you reach the age that almost everyone, even folks obviously older than me, call me "Sir," the pharmacy technical at the nearby drug store greets me by my first name when I go in for refills.
- I am reading a story in the Wall Street Journal about addiction transfer. (A significant number of people who have gastric bypass surgery go on to develop other addictions, such as compulsive gambling, alcoholism, or compulsive shopping.) The article mentions a couple of drugs that are been tested as possible treatments. The article includes a misspelling of one of the names (Bupropian, instead of Bupropion, aka Wellbutrin).
- Scientists believe that they have isolated the gene responsible for depression.
- I've been cleared of cancer for now and am supposed to be extra careful about exposure to the sun. In addition to SPF 10W40 and a hat the size of a trashcan lid, I guess one of these outfits would be a good idea.
- Finns don't want diseases named after them or their towns.
- Take a look at this site if you want to get an idea when you'll get your ticket punched.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Clear cutting
The report from the pathology lab says that the surgery was successful, that they got all of the cancer, in that one area. I still have a follow-up appointment with the dermatologist to
find out if there are other suspicious areas on me.
Thanks for all the prayers and cheers and comforting words. As Luis Tiant said of the Boston fans, "You make do better than I can do."
Now on to the important stuff. I replaced our wireless router at home last night. We've had cable Internet access for several years. The speeds of our connection, however, has been dropping significantly, down to and below dial-up speed. The culprit was the router. When I installed the new router, we got our Internet back again. It's a bit surprising that the router failed first; the cable modem is older by a couple of years.
Anyway, we're back on the air so that we can hear about:
And, then, Apple seems to be poised to address this problem, at least partially. Future versions of the iPod will have text-to-speech capability to let the iPod tell you who is playing what. It won't yet tell me who was playing bass on Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited sessions, but it's a start. (There were two bassists - Russ Savakus and Harvey Brooks.)
The era of crank windows is coming to an end, with just a few vehicles offering them as a cheap option. Two quick stories on that:
find out if there are other suspicious areas on me.
Thanks for all the prayers and cheers and comforting words. As Luis Tiant said of the Boston fans, "You make do better than I can do."
Now on to the important stuff. I replaced our wireless router at home last night. We've had cable Internet access for several years. The speeds of our connection, however, has been dropping significantly, down to and below dial-up speed. The culprit was the router. When I installed the new router, we got our Internet back again. It's a bit surprising that the router failed first; the cable modem is older by a couple of years.
Anyway, we're back on the air so that we can hear about:
- Well, Angus, what did you learn in school today?
- Give this man a Massachusetts driver's license.
- It's not only a pen, it's a radio. It's not only a pen and a radio, it's a shredder.
And, then, Apple seems to be poised to address this problem, at least partially. Future versions of the iPod will have text-to-speech capability to let the iPod tell you who is playing what. It won't yet tell me who was playing bass on Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited sessions, but it's a start. (There were two bassists - Russ Savakus and Harvey Brooks.)
The era of crank windows is coming to an end, with just a few vehicles offering them as a cheap option. Two quick stories on that:
- A member of our extended family would have every one in the car open their windows (even in Canadian winters) when they driving over a bridge while in a car with power windows. She was afraid that the windows wouldn't open underwater.
- I knew a guy who was really excited when he bought his first car with power windows. He could then throw his beer bottles out the passenger side and not have to worry about on-coming traffic so much. It worked great, except for the time that he thought the window was down and it wasn't.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
On health and some about nature
After the 1938 hurricane, there was plenty of work for people willing and able to clear away the fallen trees. My father and another guy worked on the property of the old state hospital in East Gardner. In those days, many of the people who were committed to the hospital didn't come out vertically. It was a grim place, but it was some place. When the hospital closed in the 70s, many people were sent to the streets. We had people living in the Salvation Army bin in front of the Friendly's where I worked. One guy would come into the restaurant and drink Fribble® glasses of water, a sign of unchecked diabetes. Folks hung around for a month or so and then just went away.
At the hospital, my father met up with a patient named Percy. Percy dragged a heavy chain all of the time. He seemed all right, able to carry on normal conversations. After several times meeting up with Percy, my father's friend finally asked, "How come you keep dragging that chain around behind you?"
"You ever try pushing one of these things?"
Many of us will remember Lyndon Johnson showing off his gall bladder scar after his 1966 operation. I think that we're generally agreed that the world neither wants nor needs to see my scar, which, truth be told, is fading to just a scratch. I'm expecting to get the pathology lab results in the next day or two. Friday I have an x-ray scheduled to check on my pneumonia (cough, cough) and then an appointment with the dermatologist who will be looking anything else that might be suspicious.
Yesterday's Boston Globe carried an article that brought some interesting, but not altogether helpful news about skin cancer. For squamous cell cancer, there's no doubt that sun exposure is the primary cause and sunblock is the primary preventative. For basal cell cancer or melanoma, the evidence is less clear. Sun exposure, particularly sunburns, are a factor, but so are family history, age, sex, and skin type.
While the scientists figure out what's really at work here, I will take the cautious route. My days lounging around the beach in a Speedo® are done.
In conversations with family and friends, I've been trying to figure out how this cancer diagnosis has changed things. I don't have a clear answer and probably won't for a while. In the meantime, life is full and good, so I have plenty of ways to focus my energy. I often recall what an old friend said to me many years ago. "You'll reach a place where you look forward to the hard times for what they're going to teach you."
We don't see many deer at the camp. My guess is that the woods are too thick with undergrowth to let them move about easily. A couple of times, we've seen one swimming across the cove. Recently, we saw fresh hoof prints in the wet sand near the boat house. Our neighbors reported seeing a bull moose on the dirt road leading to their house.
At the hospital, my father met up with a patient named Percy. Percy dragged a heavy chain all of the time. He seemed all right, able to carry on normal conversations. After several times meeting up with Percy, my father's friend finally asked, "How come you keep dragging that chain around behind you?"
"You ever try pushing one of these things?"
Many of us will remember Lyndon Johnson showing off his gall bladder scar after his 1966 operation. I think that we're generally agreed that the world neither wants nor needs to see my scar, which, truth be told, is fading to just a scratch. I'm expecting to get the pathology lab results in the next day or two. Friday I have an x-ray scheduled to check on my pneumonia (cough, cough) and then an appointment with the dermatologist who will be looking anything else that might be suspicious.
Yesterday's Boston Globe carried an article that brought some interesting, but not altogether helpful news about skin cancer. For squamous cell cancer, there's no doubt that sun exposure is the primary cause and sunblock is the primary preventative. For basal cell cancer or melanoma, the evidence is less clear. Sun exposure, particularly sunburns, are a factor, but so are family history, age, sex, and skin type.
While the scientists figure out what's really at work here, I will take the cautious route. My days lounging around the beach in a Speedo® are done.
In conversations with family and friends, I've been trying to figure out how this cancer diagnosis has changed things. I don't have a clear answer and probably won't for a while. In the meantime, life is full and good, so I have plenty of ways to focus my energy. I often recall what an old friend said to me many years ago. "You'll reach a place where you look forward to the hard times for what they're going to teach you."
We don't see many deer at the camp. My guess is that the woods are too thick with undergrowth to let them move about easily. A couple of times, we've seen one swimming across the cove. Recently, we saw fresh hoof prints in the wet sand near the boat house. Our neighbors reported seeing a bull moose on the dirt road leading to their house.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Monday, July 03, 2006
Later that day...
My doctor was called away on an emergency, so I was lying on the table for a half hour, pondering things:
Oh, and no shower for 48 hours. I'm glad that they still make spray deodorant.
One of the signs in the hospital parking garage says, "Exit to Entry Ramp." We were looking for the Entry to Exit Ramp.
Thanks for your notes and prayers and holding me in the light.
- Sen. Ted Stevens' (R-Ork) masterful explanation of the internets.
- How Montonians became the arbiters of style and architecture?
- Do I want Twinkie Tacos for lunch?
Oh, and no shower for 48 hours. I'm glad that they still make spray deodorant.
One of the signs in the hospital parking garage says, "Exit to Entry Ramp." We were looking for the Entry to Exit Ramp.
Thanks for your notes and prayers and holding me in the light.
Bring on the kitchen implements
Sandra will drive me in to the hospital for the surgery this morning. Adam has described the procedure as using a melon baller to remove the cancer. I expect to be home by late morning. I won't be able to go swimming for a couple of weeks and will, for the rest of my life, have to be more fastidious about using sunscreen. Yesterday, for example, I was using the string trimmer to clear away the long grass and brush on the camp road. Even though it was cloudy, my skin was pink when I went back indoors. My legs also looked as though someone had been throwing darts at them, such is the effect of wearing shorts while using a string trimmer on a gravel road.
Meanwhile, the medical profession learns that patient care involves the whole family.
Arlo Guthrie talked about a concert that he did with Pete Seeger in Berlin afgter the Wall fell. The concert was going alright, but people weren't singing along as much because, well, Pete and Arlo were singing mostly American tunes. The song that broke through was that American folk classic that begins: Wise men say, only fools rush in.... If you want people to sing along, you can't wrong with an Elvis song. That universality extended to a meeting between Japanese Prime Minister Koizumi and our own W at Graceland.
Peter Gammons, of ESPN and formerly of the Boston Globe, had a brain aneurysm last week. Several years ago, I sat in front of Gammons on a flight from Dallas to Boston. My father and I were returning from my uncle's funeral in St. Louis and I'd managed to get ticket upgrades for us. Gammons was coming back from the baseball winter meetings where the big topic was Alex Rodriguez's $160-someodd million contract with Texas. The guys on the place wanted to talk about A-Rod and Gammons just wanted some sleep.
I like my job, even though we're heading into a series of impossible deadlines and so wind up playing the game of chicken. I still keep my automated and informal job searches going along, just to be safe. Last week I received an invitation to go to work at another high-tech company. (I declined.) My automated search for a technical documentation job turned up this gem: a sanitation supervisor for Kellogg in Memphis.
Daryl Gates was chief of the LAPD and key innovations to urban policing, notable the special weapons and tactics (SWAT) team. His career, however, flamed out after the riots following the Rodney King verdict in 1992. So, where is he now? He's working with a company that auctions confiscated property after the property is no longer needed as evidence. For example, would you like to buy a Pallet Of Servers And Components? Current bid is $10.
Meanwhile, the medical profession learns that patient care involves the whole family.
Arlo Guthrie talked about a concert that he did with Pete Seeger in Berlin afgter the Wall fell. The concert was going alright, but people weren't singing along as much because, well, Pete and Arlo were singing mostly American tunes. The song that broke through was that American folk classic that begins: Wise men say, only fools rush in.... If you want people to sing along, you can't wrong with an Elvis song. That universality extended to a meeting between Japanese Prime Minister Koizumi and our own W at Graceland.
Peter Gammons, of ESPN and formerly of the Boston Globe, had a brain aneurysm last week. Several years ago, I sat in front of Gammons on a flight from Dallas to Boston. My father and I were returning from my uncle's funeral in St. Louis and I'd managed to get ticket upgrades for us. Gammons was coming back from the baseball winter meetings where the big topic was Alex Rodriguez's $160-someodd million contract with Texas. The guys on the place wanted to talk about A-Rod and Gammons just wanted some sleep.
I like my job, even though we're heading into a series of impossible deadlines and so wind up playing the game of chicken. I still keep my automated and informal job searches going along, just to be safe. Last week I received an invitation to go to work at another high-tech company. (I declined.) My automated search for a technical documentation job turned up this gem: a sanitation supervisor for Kellogg in Memphis.
Daryl Gates was chief of the LAPD and key innovations to urban policing, notable the special weapons and tactics (SWAT) team. His career, however, flamed out after the riots following the Rodney King verdict in 1992. So, where is he now? He's working with a company that auctions confiscated property after the property is no longer needed as evidence. For example, would you like to buy a Pallet Of Servers And Components? Current bid is $10.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Are you drinking too much? A new BlackBerry ebook has advice - BBHub
Are you drinking too much? A new BlackBerry ebook has advice - BBHub
Hint: if you're drinking too much, it's probably not because your BlackBerry doesn't have the right stuff on it.
Hint: if you're drinking too much, it's probably not because your BlackBerry doesn't have the right stuff on it.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Ed Bott's Windows Expertise » Best line of the day
Ed Bott's Windows Expertise » Best line of the day:
“Warren Buffett is so rich, he’s hired Bill Gates to spend his money.”
Stephen Colbert
“Warren Buffett is so rich, he’s hired Bill Gates to spend his money.”
Stephen Colbert
Huge Asteroid to Fly Past Earth July 3 - Yahoo! News
If you hear a great "Whoosh" sound on July 3, be grateful that you heard anything at all.
Monday, June 26, 2006
there was a third possibility that we hadn't even counted upon ...
This morning's appointment with the surgeon turned out to be a consultation. The surgery is scheduled for next Monday.
If you didn't work at DEC or work on DEC gear, you can skip the next paragraph and, instead, reflect on What Dogs Hear.
The title of this note comes from Arlo Guthrie's Alice's Restaurant. As I was checking for the exact quote (found here), I found a reworking of the tune for the elder geeks among this readership: Alice's PDP-10. Those who remember the KL10-series will also remember that other sweet, old tune: I dont' care what people say, 36 bits are here to stay.
If you didn't work at DEC or work on DEC gear, you can skip the next paragraph and, instead, reflect on What Dogs Hear.
The title of this note comes from Arlo Guthrie's Alice's Restaurant. As I was checking for the exact quote (found here), I found a reworking of the tune for the elder geeks among this readership: Alice's PDP-10. Those who remember the KL10-series will also remember that other sweet, old tune: I dont' care what people say, 36 bits are here to stay.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
The power of words
You don't have to work with words for a living to know that power is distributed unevenly to words and phrases. So it was last week when I called my doctor's office to describe my symptoms - fever, chills, um, colorful coughing, and Darth Vaderesque breathing. The nurse said that I should see the doctor now because "it could be pneumonia." I received a prescription for a strong antibiotic and an appointment for a chest x-ray. Most of us, when sick, want to know that we have something real and, even better, measurable, lest we be thought of as slackers.
A bunch of years ago, 25 perhaps, I stopped for an ice cream home on my way back from a mid-day appointment. When I got out of the car, I noticed smoke and flames coming out from under the hood. I walked in to the Baskin & Robbins and asked the young woman behind the counter if she could call the fire department. I also ordered my ice cream cone and enjoyed it while I watched the fire fighters spray foam into the engine compartment.
When my doctor told me on Friday that the mole I'd had removed the previous week was "malignant melanoma," I sat up a bit straighter, but didn't flinch. Tomorrow morning, the surgeon will remove an area around the original incision, "clearing the margins," they call it. I'll take the day off and then see what kinds of follow-up appointments and treatments are called for.
As you'd expect, I do spend time thinking about what this means. Whatever it is, I'm grateful - grateful for what I have and grateful for what this will teach me.
Medical advances have given us many more options when treating difficult conditions. Nevertheless, if someone offers botox injections as a treatment for depression, you might want to think it through.
Or, if you have a great need to cut yourself and your nurse says, "Just don't get anything on the carpet," it would be fair to start a discussion about who's really crazy here.
Sandra ordered curried chicken and I requested spicy string beans with beef when we went to a local Chinese restaurant the other night. A short while later, the waiter delivered our dinners and quickly disappeared. While we listened to such elevator-favorite tunes such as Guantanamera, done in an ersatz Chinese style, we enjoyed our meals, even though what Sandra received wasn't what she ordered. Some time later, the waiter reappeared and asked us if everything was all right.
"This is good," Sandra said, pointing to the sweet, orange-flavored pieces of chicken on the plate, "but it isn't what I ordered."
"It's better," he said and went away.
A bunch of years ago, 25 perhaps, I stopped for an ice cream home on my way back from a mid-day appointment. When I got out of the car, I noticed smoke and flames coming out from under the hood. I walked in to the Baskin & Robbins and asked the young woman behind the counter if she could call the fire department. I also ordered my ice cream cone and enjoyed it while I watched the fire fighters spray foam into the engine compartment.
When my doctor told me on Friday that the mole I'd had removed the previous week was "malignant melanoma," I sat up a bit straighter, but didn't flinch. Tomorrow morning, the surgeon will remove an area around the original incision, "clearing the margins," they call it. I'll take the day off and then see what kinds of follow-up appointments and treatments are called for.
As you'd expect, I do spend time thinking about what this means. Whatever it is, I'm grateful - grateful for what I have and grateful for what this will teach me.
Medical advances have given us many more options when treating difficult conditions. Nevertheless, if someone offers botox injections as a treatment for depression, you might want to think it through.
Or, if you have a great need to cut yourself and your nurse says, "Just don't get anything on the carpet," it would be fair to start a discussion about who's really crazy here.
Sandra ordered curried chicken and I requested spicy string beans with beef when we went to a local Chinese restaurant the other night. A short while later, the waiter delivered our dinners and quickly disappeared. While we listened to such elevator-favorite tunes such as Guantanamera, done in an ersatz Chinese style, we enjoyed our meals, even though what Sandra received wasn't what she ordered. Some time later, the waiter reappeared and asked us if everything was all right.
"This is good," Sandra said, pointing to the sweet, orange-flavored pieces of chicken on the plate, "but it isn't what I ordered."
"It's better," he said and went away.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Thursday, June 22, 2006
EmacsWiki: EmacsAndLife
EmacsWiki: EmacsAndLife: "Calling EMACS an editor is like calling the Earth a hunk of dirt."
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
The dog that barked
Uh-oh. When I came home from work Monday night, Marley barked. It was just a single "Woof," but a telling one. Marley hadn't barked at me for several years. Back then, and now, I'd go in to work early and staying late.
Our need for longer work days is quite real. I have something like 10 books due by the end of July, including two by the end of this month. They aren't big books, but they're challenging. We have a demanding customer. Each week, in one forum or another, we have conference calls where we learn how the customer wants more documentation with greater technical depth and, oh, by the way, can you also improve the stuff you released last year?
Nevertheless, every day I say, "I work hard, but this isn't hard work."
We've also moved our offices. The cubicles are nicer, larger, but it's still like being in an airplane for nine hours a day. The neighbors are close and idiosyncratic. My next door neighbor has a cold, sneezing, coughing, and blowing his nose in a manner that would keep the ships safe at sea. When I get to the office early, I can listen to a co-worker two aisles over play America the Beautiful on his computer. Someone has burnt toast for breakfast every day. I'm certain that I do things that attract the attention of my neighbors, so I don't get too torqued about my neighbors' quirks. I wouldn't mind, however, if the guy with the cold would take a few days off.
This move was simple; I just barely filled one moving box. At a previous job, I won the Pack Rat award for having the most boxes o' stuff, 17 or 18, I think.
Moving in the opposite direction for most technology companies, HP is eliminating the telecommuting option for some of its employees. There's no question that in-person meetings are helpful (witness the amount of traveling that I've done). Nevertheless, with broadband Internet, cell phones, instant messaging, and such, physical location matters little. For example, albeit a slightly screwy example, on short-notice, I had to join a late-day conference call. Sandra and I rode to work together. On the way home then, I listened to the conference call, with my dorky little earpiece and she could listen to her recorded book.
At a time in my life when most people, young and old, are calling me Sir, the pharmacy technician at the neighborhood drug store greets me by my first name and then checks to see how many prescriptions I have waiting for me.
Adam, Jennie, and Lily had come to the camp a couple of weeks ago to help us get the boat into the water. The boat guy had a few more things to do before the launching. He was an hour and half late and forgot some key parts. He did what he could and left, to return a few days later. Jennie observed that BG looked and acted like Otto from The Simpsons.
Our need for longer work days is quite real. I have something like 10 books due by the end of July, including two by the end of this month. They aren't big books, but they're challenging. We have a demanding customer. Each week, in one forum or another, we have conference calls where we learn how the customer wants more documentation with greater technical depth and, oh, by the way, can you also improve the stuff you released last year?
Nevertheless, every day I say, "I work hard, but this isn't hard work."
We've also moved our offices. The cubicles are nicer, larger, but it's still like being in an airplane for nine hours a day. The neighbors are close and idiosyncratic. My next door neighbor has a cold, sneezing, coughing, and blowing his nose in a manner that would keep the ships safe at sea. When I get to the office early, I can listen to a co-worker two aisles over play America the Beautiful on his computer. Someone has burnt toast for breakfast every day. I'm certain that I do things that attract the attention of my neighbors, so I don't get too torqued about my neighbors' quirks. I wouldn't mind, however, if the guy with the cold would take a few days off.
This move was simple; I just barely filled one moving box. At a previous job, I won the Pack Rat award for having the most boxes o' stuff, 17 or 18, I think.
Moving in the opposite direction for most technology companies, HP is eliminating the telecommuting option for some of its employees. There's no question that in-person meetings are helpful (witness the amount of traveling that I've done). Nevertheless, with broadband Internet, cell phones, instant messaging, and such, physical location matters little. For example, albeit a slightly screwy example, on short-notice, I had to join a late-day conference call. Sandra and I rode to work together. On the way home then, I listened to the conference call, with my dorky little earpiece and she could listen to her recorded book.
At a time in my life when most people, young and old, are calling me Sir, the pharmacy technician at the neighborhood drug store greets me by my first name and then checks to see how many prescriptions I have waiting for me.
Adam, Jennie, and Lily had come to the camp a couple of weeks ago to help us get the boat into the water. The boat guy had a few more things to do before the launching. He was an hour and half late and forgot some key parts. He did what he could and left, to return a few days later. Jennie observed that BG looked and acted like Otto from The Simpsons.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
One Grande ChiliDogerino, hold the onions
You can tell right away that you're in Amherst, even if you ignore all of the ivy-covered buildings or the Rip-Van-Winkle-esque hippies in the natural foods store. It's the bumper stickers. It's the aging Toyota with Democratic campaign stickers from the last two state and national elections. (They all lost.) This year's winner was on the back of a small pickup truck:
This was my annual return to campus during Reunion weekend. At one point, I'd make a day of it, visiting with professors, hanging out in the coffee shops, nosing through favorite bookstores. Most of those professors have since retired, although I did get a chance to chat with my religion professor. The coffee shops that aren't Starbuck's are gone. And books. I'll read a book again someday, for sure.
"A celebration of summer, with its sweet flavor of juicy sun-kissed blueberries baked to perfection in a buttery crust." That sounds nice, but it shouldn't be a description for my morning coffee. Last week, in our New York office, some samples of the blueberry coffee showed up. Some people said it was good, but I kept walking. I like chili dogs and I like lima beans, but I'm not going to put them in my coffee.
And, last night, I stopped into a store for a newspaper. A young man at the other counter requested two strawberry cigars, and not bubble gum cigars, either.
Woody and Marian have returned for a short stay. They'll go to the Cape to visit with their new grandsons. They have doctors' appointments this week and next and plan to return to the Island to prepare for summer visitors.
If the Grateful Dead decide to get the band together and call to ask if you'd like to be their keyboard player, tell 'em you're busy.
Before long, we'll have our iPods surgically implanted, with a USB jack in our navels and the ear buds grafted onto our tympanic membranes. Until then, we get this.
Footnote: the Blogger spell-checker didn't recognize the word Starbuck's and offered this instead:
(Strabismus is the medical term for cross-eyed.)
Support the No Sheep Left Behind ActIt was raining heavily during the time that I was on campus, so I didn't see a lot of people. The people I did see, however, were white - alumni, spouses, and kids. I met one black campus police officer.
This was my annual return to campus during Reunion weekend. At one point, I'd make a day of it, visiting with professors, hanging out in the coffee shops, nosing through favorite bookstores. Most of those professors have since retired, although I did get a chance to chat with my religion professor. The coffee shops that aren't Starbuck's are gone. And books. I'll read a book again someday, for sure.
"A celebration of summer, with its sweet flavor of juicy sun-kissed blueberries baked to perfection in a buttery crust." That sounds nice, but it shouldn't be a description for my morning coffee. Last week, in our New York office, some samples of the blueberry coffee showed up. Some people said it was good, but I kept walking. I like chili dogs and I like lima beans, but I'm not going to put them in my coffee.
And, last night, I stopped into a store for a newspaper. A young man at the other counter requested two strawberry cigars, and not bubble gum cigars, either.
Woody and Marian have returned for a short stay. They'll go to the Cape to visit with their new grandsons. They have doctors' appointments this week and next and plan to return to the Island to prepare for summer visitors.
If the Grateful Dead decide to get the band together and call to ask if you'd like to be their keyboard player, tell 'em you're busy.
Before long, we'll have our iPods surgically implanted, with a USB jack in our navels and the ear buds grafted onto our tympanic membranes. Until then, we get this.
Footnote: the Blogger spell-checker didn't recognize the word Starbuck's and offered this instead:
(Strabismus is the medical term for cross-eyed.)
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Doggie Dog
This week in New York, I've had meetings with J., one of our senior software architects. We're trying to clarify some of the processes associated with the way that we build and release our products. The fun part is that, along with writing the process manual, I have the chance to contribute some code. I'm a bit reticent, however, about telling my boss. Even though this is much needed work for the current release, I also have enough other work to drown a giraffe.
English is not the native language for this architect. His is a Yiddish/Russian accent, very pleasant to listen to. He speaks well and has good command of English, but idioms sometimes take him by surprise. In meetings that were addressing the competetive challenges ahead for our company, someone used the phrase, "It's a dog-eat-dog world." J. heard "Doggie Dog," which made no sense, nor did the rest of the meeting make sense because of that one odd phrase. He finally did ask another meeting-goer, who explained the phrase, enunciating clearly.
A few weeks ago, I received a letter informing me that I had achieved gold status in this hotel chain's frequent-stayer program. As a result of my elite rating, I now qualify for a gold-colored strip of paper that describes one of the amenities that I've been receiving all along. I just hadn't received the strip of paper before.
"Enjoy your sleep amenities," said the clerk when I'd completed the check-in process.
In a creepier occurrence, I tried to go down the stairway to leave the building by the back way. I'd been sitting all day and the walk down the stairs did me some good. I followed the emergency exit signs to the bottom. The door was jammed shut. I went back to the lobby and spoke to a clerk about this dangerous situation. He was more interested in letting me know that the other exit door was alarmed. I'll go back to the first stairwell today. If the door is not fixed, my next call will be to the city's building inspector.
Would you buy Reese's Peanut Butter Lip Balm? If you can't find it in your local stores, eBay can bring this magical palliative to your weary lips.
No Amnety: This picture has made its way around the Internet in the last few days. My first suspicion was that someone altered the picture with Photoshop or similar photo editing product. The site that's hosting the picture is the web site for The Republic, a newspaper in Columbus, Indiana. Access to the paper's archives are restricted to subscribers. I was able to get at letters to the editor, written the day after the photo was printed, indicating that the writers were seeing what we can see.
As I drove from my father's house to the camp recently, I passed by Ronnie's house. Ronnie moved to the midwest quite a while ago. I've lost track of what happened to his brother,
Jerry, and his parents. The large field next to Ronnie's house was our football field and baseball field. None of us went on to play sports in high school, so it was just a place for kids to have fun. The field now is on its way to becoming woods. I still see a field there.
Ronnie was a drummer, sometimes in rock-and-roll bands, more often in competitive drum corps. For his practice, he would play along with records. From his collection, I first heard the Yardbirds, playing "For Your Love," and the Shadows of Knight, playing a cover of a Van Morrison/Them tune, "Gloria."
So, in rock-and-roll bands in the 60s, we play Gloria and we played Louie Louie, by The Kingsmen. (As Bono would later explain it all, "All I got is a red guitar, three chords, and the truth.") What we lacked in talent we filled with earnestness. Anyway, as most of you know, Louie Louie was a controversial song in its time. Controversial because no one could understand a word of what the singer was singing. And, because no one could understand what he was singing, parents feared and kids hoped that the lyrics were dirty. Enter the FBI. Here are some of the files that the FBI collected about this venerable song. (Caution - some of the pages do contain language and descriptions that might be offensive.) Here are the real lyrics, according to the president of the record company. The FBI, with all the resources that the agency could bring, determined that it couldn't understand a word of what the singer was singing.
English is not the native language for this architect. His is a Yiddish/Russian accent, very pleasant to listen to. He speaks well and has good command of English, but idioms sometimes take him by surprise. In meetings that were addressing the competetive challenges ahead for our company, someone used the phrase, "It's a dog-eat-dog world." J. heard "Doggie Dog," which made no sense, nor did the rest of the meeting make sense because of that one odd phrase. He finally did ask another meeting-goer, who explained the phrase, enunciating clearly.
A few weeks ago, I received a letter informing me that I had achieved gold status in this hotel chain's frequent-stayer program. As a result of my elite rating, I now qualify for a gold-colored strip of paper that describes one of the amenities that I've been receiving all along. I just hadn't received the strip of paper before.
"Enjoy your sleep amenities," said the clerk when I'd completed the check-in process.
In a creepier occurrence, I tried to go down the stairway to leave the building by the back way. I'd been sitting all day and the walk down the stairs did me some good. I followed the emergency exit signs to the bottom. The door was jammed shut. I went back to the lobby and spoke to a clerk about this dangerous situation. He was more interested in letting me know that the other exit door was alarmed. I'll go back to the first stairwell today. If the door is not fixed, my next call will be to the city's building inspector.
Would you buy Reese's Peanut Butter Lip Balm? If you can't find it in your local stores, eBay can bring this magical palliative to your weary lips.
No Amnety: This picture has made its way around the Internet in the last few days. My first suspicion was that someone altered the picture with Photoshop or similar photo editing product. The site that's hosting the picture is the web site for The Republic, a newspaper in Columbus, Indiana. Access to the paper's archives are restricted to subscribers. I was able to get at letters to the editor, written the day after the photo was printed, indicating that the writers were seeing what we can see.
As I drove from my father's house to the camp recently, I passed by Ronnie's house. Ronnie moved to the midwest quite a while ago. I've lost track of what happened to his brother,
Jerry, and his parents. The large field next to Ronnie's house was our football field and baseball field. None of us went on to play sports in high school, so it was just a place for kids to have fun. The field now is on its way to becoming woods. I still see a field there.
Ronnie was a drummer, sometimes in rock-and-roll bands, more often in competitive drum corps. For his practice, he would play along with records. From his collection, I first heard the Yardbirds, playing "For Your Love," and the Shadows of Knight, playing a cover of a Van Morrison/Them tune, "Gloria."
So, in rock-and-roll bands in the 60s, we play Gloria and we played Louie Louie, by The Kingsmen. (As Bono would later explain it all, "All I got is a red guitar, three chords, and the truth.") What we lacked in talent we filled with earnestness. Anyway, as most of you know, Louie Louie was a controversial song in its time. Controversial because no one could understand a word of what the singer was singing. And, because no one could understand what he was singing, parents feared and kids hoped that the lyrics were dirty. Enter the FBI. Here are some of the files that the FBI collected about this venerable song. (Caution - some of the pages do contain language and descriptions that might be offensive.) Here are the real lyrics, according to the president of the record company. The FBI, with all the resources that the agency could bring, determined that it couldn't understand a word of what the singer was singing.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
North by northeast, north by northwest, southwest, and east
Sandra and Krista went to PEI on Thursday. When our grandchildren turn 10, Sandra takes them on a trip to the Island. They fly out Boston early, stop over in Halifax (long enough for a massage at the terminal, and then take one short flight to Charlottetown, where Woody and Marian meet them.
Thursday night's meal was the Whim Inn at Poole's Corner. The waitress who served this hungry crew was the same one who served us five years ago. The rolls are so big that it would take an African swallow to carry them. The meals are straight down the alley and good. (I might, however, give the liver and onions a miss. When my mother served liver, as she often did, the cat and I had a special arrangement - I'd drop a piece of liver on the floor and he'd eat it.)
On Friday, Woody and Krista went to local fishing spot. Krista caught three large Rainbow trout and learned how to clean them. Those trout were Friday night's supper.
On Saturday they went to a cousin's for afternoon tea and then to the local church for their annual lobster supper. The small church collects more than $10,000 in less than four hours, not bad in a village of 400 people.
Between the meals, there was fun in every corner. Krista brought her piano music, so she, Marian, and Sandra played and sang for a long time. There were card games, Monopoly, walks on the beach to collect shells. Woody and Marian are lovingly generous with their gifts and attention.
Sunday morning, on the 50km drive from Cardigan to the Charlottetown airport, they didn't pass a car. Sandra and Krista this time flew from Charlottetown to Toronto. After navigating the massive Pearson Airport, they went through U.S. customs, and then learned that the airline didn't have a pilot for the plane. When Sandra called me with this news, I went to the Massport (Boston) web site and signed up for flight notifications. The would send me email when the flight was rescheduled and when it would land. An hour and a half after we'd left Logan Airport and were in Mike and Lynn's back yard, I got an email saying that the plane had landed.
Just as Sandra and Krista were arriving in Charlottetown on Thursday, one of the storied shopping attractions was closing.
Dell had an insert in the Sunday papers. They offered a range of deals for household and business use. One system, the OptiplexTM GX520 Desktop for $599. Below the price was this mind-twizzler:
Dual-core capable business desktop; features managed transitions and average 15-month life cycles.I know what dual-core means, but managed transitions has me baffled and 15-month life cycles, if it's what I think it is (replace this machine every 15 months) is absolutely goofy. Whatever it means, Strunk and White surrender.
So, it's back to work after a restful long weekend. I can't imagine that this week can be more bizarre than last, but I couldn't imagine last week, either. One snippet - I was part of team from our company and a customer, working on a design document. We had a six and one-half hour conference call on Thursday. And the end of the meeting, around 4:30, one of the engineers said that she had some more information for me and would send it within the hour. At 6:15, she calls to say that she had been side-tracked on some other issues. "I wasn't able to get my work done," she said. "You'll still be able to have your work done by nine in the morning, won't you?"
We have lilies of the valley along the back corner of the MacGregors' part of the house. The fragrance is strong and sweet. Even a handful of blossoms will fill a room.
The weekend was restful, but also somber, of course, as we remember those who died in service and those who died as the result of their service.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Fine is the day that is with us
Our yard has provided a steady supply of flowers, in spite of the heavy rain that crumpled flowers in other parts of the state. Sandra has put tulips and now lilacs on the table by the window in the family room, where we have our meals. The lilacs, white, have a rich, sweet smell.
We'll try again today to get the water on at the camp and to get the boat in the water. We will have four generations of Hakkarainens, plus Andy, the boat guy. (When Andy isn't working on boats, cars, or other vehicles, he's selling a bug repellent called Andy's Bug Juice.)
One of the fundamental laws of the camp is that, at some point, you'll need something that's at the other place. Last week, we needed the set of locking pliers that are in the cupboard at home. (We might have used one of these.) My father has a chain wrench that would have done the job, but his was at his house. Adam had the right wrenches also, and also at his house. This week, we'll have three of the right tools and will need something else.
Camp fare, as you might expect, tends toward the simpler choices. Our favorite supper is eggs and beans. We'll have hot dogs for lunch. HJ Heinz, ever on the cutting edge of cuisine, is test-marketing a new frozen-food delicacy - beans on toast. Pop it in the toaster and, a minute later, you have, well, you have beans on toast, a nice side dish, perhaps, for a gummi t-bone steak.
During a discussion in the North Carolina legislature regarding ethics and how much money can legislators can receive from whom, one representative put everything in perspective. "Even the baby Jesus accepted gifts, and I don't think it corrupted him," said Rep. Drew Saunders, a Mecklenburg County Democrat.
There's a good chance for more rain tomorrow. So, to keep the kids entertained, it's a good idea to have coloring books on hand, such as Tommy Tsunami and Ernie Earthquake Coloring Book.
The summer forecast in Britain isn't good. Those lovely English roses won't do well when it starts raining frogs and fishes.
Until the showers or the BFOs (Bizarre Falling Objects), we'll enjoy this sunny day. The rain or jellyfish or coal will find us soon enough. Even if they do, we'll be ok.
Happy Anniversary, Sandra. We still got it.
We'll try again today to get the water on at the camp and to get the boat in the water. We will have four generations of Hakkarainens, plus Andy, the boat guy. (When Andy isn't working on boats, cars, or other vehicles, he's selling a bug repellent called Andy's Bug Juice.)
One of the fundamental laws of the camp is that, at some point, you'll need something that's at the other place. Last week, we needed the set of locking pliers that are in the cupboard at home. (We might have used one of these.) My father has a chain wrench that would have done the job, but his was at his house. Adam had the right wrenches also, and also at his house. This week, we'll have three of the right tools and will need something else.
Camp fare, as you might expect, tends toward the simpler choices. Our favorite supper is eggs and beans. We'll have hot dogs for lunch. HJ Heinz, ever on the cutting edge of cuisine, is test-marketing a new frozen-food delicacy - beans on toast. Pop it in the toaster and, a minute later, you have, well, you have beans on toast, a nice side dish, perhaps, for a gummi t-bone steak.
During a discussion in the North Carolina legislature regarding ethics and how much money can legislators can receive from whom, one representative put everything in perspective. "Even the baby Jesus accepted gifts, and I don't think it corrupted him," said Rep. Drew Saunders, a Mecklenburg County Democrat.
There's a good chance for more rain tomorrow. So, to keep the kids entertained, it's a good idea to have coloring books on hand, such as Tommy Tsunami and Ernie Earthquake Coloring Book.
The summer forecast in Britain isn't good. Those lovely English roses won't do well when it starts raining frogs and fishes.
Until the showers or the BFOs (Bizarre Falling Objects), we'll enjoy this sunny day. The rain or jellyfish or coal will find us soon enough. Even if they do, we'll be ok.
Happy Anniversary, Sandra. We still got it.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Remember when you sang "Rain, rain, go away"?
This is that other day. Rain came today. And yesterday. Most of the days in the coming week will be that other day, too. Let's stop singing that song for a while and let the rain catch up with itself.
There is an Outback Steakhouse across the street from hotel where I stay in New York. This week they had a large sign over the main entrance, letting all the children know that Outback would be open at 11AM on Mother's Day. Think Mom would like the 22 oz. Porterhouse steak. After all, "it's a bonzer." Oh, and don't forget the Bloomin' Onion® - 800 calories and 56 grams of fat goodness.
It's hard to get Mother's Day right. Other holidays, such as Christmas and birthdays, have their own challenges, but Mother's Day is something special. Could I have been a better kid? Could I be one now? How would she like to celebrate the day, particularly when she says, "What ever you do is fine, dear."? Sometimes, flowers and a card work very nicely. Sometimes, it's appropriate to champion large causes.) Sometimes, the mother just wants a nap. At day's end, as my mother's friend would say, "We do the best what we are."
"Beat your swords into ploughshares and your vacuum cleaners into lights."
This might work, as long as your mother doesn't know your handwriting.
Yesterday Adam, Jennie, and Lilly met us at the camp. The original plan was that Adam would bring his truck and help get the boat into the water. But, the guy who was unwinterizing (summerize?) the boat couldn't finish his work in the heavy rain. (We'll try again next weekend.) Adam and I had plenty of work to do anyway. Our mission was to turn on the water. Sometimes, it's a task that takes an hour, sometimes it takes three. This year it was three and it's still not done.
The hose that draws water from the lake has a leak where we join two sections of hose with a PVC union. Either it is operator error where the operator (yours truly) cross-threaded the connection or the rubber gasket inside the union is worn or torn. When we take the union apart to inspect it, all of the water will drain out of the water tank. We'll have to prime the pump again next weekend.
In addition, we were having a heck of a time figuring out why the water system wasn't keeping its pressure. After retracing the lines, Adam discovered that a section of plastic pipe in our nearly new toilet had water trapped in it last fall. The water froze, splitting the pipe. We could get a replacement part, but what good is it to replace a badly designed part with another. This one, as my father says, needs some pondering.
It was fun to work with Adam. There isn't a lot I can teach him about home maintenance, but this was one area were I had something to offer. He made a good suggestion about installing a ground-fault breaker on the outlet where we plug in the water pump. Just because I've always done this work while standing barefoot on a wet floor doesn't mean that it's always been a good idea.
Once we got the water system to a known state, I had a chance to visit with Jennie and Lily. Lily and I had a nice conversation about her idea to paint Marley's toenails red and why that might not be a good idea.
We'll go to Mike and Lynn's this afternoon, arriving with pizza and gratitude. This will be the third time that we've been over there recently. Last Sunday was the party for Tess's first communion. Thursday night was her birthday. We keep showing up and they keep acting like they're glad to see us. What a kick.
There is an Outback Steakhouse across the street from hotel where I stay in New York. This week they had a large sign over the main entrance, letting all the children know that Outback would be open at 11AM on Mother's Day. Think Mom would like the 22 oz. Porterhouse steak. After all, "it's a bonzer." Oh, and don't forget the Bloomin' Onion® - 800 calories and 56 grams of fat goodness.
It's hard to get Mother's Day right. Other holidays, such as Christmas and birthdays, have their own challenges, but Mother's Day is something special. Could I have been a better kid? Could I be one now? How would she like to celebrate the day, particularly when she says, "What ever you do is fine, dear."? Sometimes, flowers and a card work very nicely. Sometimes, it's appropriate to champion large causes.) Sometimes, the mother just wants a nap. At day's end, as my mother's friend would say, "We do the best what we are."
"Beat your swords into ploughshares and your vacuum cleaners into lights."
This might work, as long as your mother doesn't know your handwriting.
Yesterday Adam, Jennie, and Lilly met us at the camp. The original plan was that Adam would bring his truck and help get the boat into the water. But, the guy who was unwinterizing (summerize?) the boat couldn't finish his work in the heavy rain. (We'll try again next weekend.) Adam and I had plenty of work to do anyway. Our mission was to turn on the water. Sometimes, it's a task that takes an hour, sometimes it takes three. This year it was three and it's still not done.
The hose that draws water from the lake has a leak where we join two sections of hose with a PVC union. Either it is operator error where the operator (yours truly) cross-threaded the connection or the rubber gasket inside the union is worn or torn. When we take the union apart to inspect it, all of the water will drain out of the water tank. We'll have to prime the pump again next weekend.
In addition, we were having a heck of a time figuring out why the water system wasn't keeping its pressure. After retracing the lines, Adam discovered that a section of plastic pipe in our nearly new toilet had water trapped in it last fall. The water froze, splitting the pipe. We could get a replacement part, but what good is it to replace a badly designed part with another. This one, as my father says, needs some pondering.
It was fun to work with Adam. There isn't a lot I can teach him about home maintenance, but this was one area were I had something to offer. He made a good suggestion about installing a ground-fault breaker on the outlet where we plug in the water pump. Just because I've always done this work while standing barefoot on a wet floor doesn't mean that it's always been a good idea.
Once we got the water system to a known state, I had a chance to visit with Jennie and Lily. Lily and I had a nice conversation about her idea to paint Marley's toenails red and why that might not be a good idea.
We'll go to Mike and Lynn's this afternoon, arriving with pizza and gratitude. This will be the third time that we've been over there recently. Last Sunday was the party for Tess's first communion. Thursday night was her birthday. We keep showing up and they keep acting like they're glad to see us. What a kick.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Gone like a cool breeze
I have three scheduled meetings today and a couple of people I hope to see, but haven't made appointments yet. I'll be out of here by three so I can get home in time for a birthday party.
Last night's Red Sox/Yankees game was broadcast on ESPN. Because the Yankees have their own cable channel with exclusive rights to broadcasts in this area, ESPN was blocked in the hotel room.
In 1990 or so, Terry Bisson wrote a short story for the now-defunct Omni magazine. The story, "They're Made Out of Meat," describes how visitors from another planet are shocked when they learn that our computers (us) are made out of meat. "ThatÂ’s ridiculous. How can meat make a machine?" The story is now a seven-minute video, well worth the time to watch it.
Next stop in the Quiz Department: by looking at pictures, can you tell who invented a computer programming language and who is a serial killer? Here's the test. My score? Eight of 10.
IBM has come a long way from the white shirt and tie days, but it still draws the line regarding appearance. For example, it appears that IBM didn't like this guy's pink hair.
It looks as though 911 is out of service. (via) Do we call 912?
In 2002 a beagle named Woodsie was trapped in a culvert for nearly a day and half. Mike was part of the rescue team. At Tess's first communion party, we saw Woodsie's family. The dog is still doing fine. Last month, a dog in Texas was trapped in a pipe. Here's the story (via). Huskies avoid open water, even when in temperate climes, because their arctic instincts tell them falling into the water can mean death. (At least one reader of this journal used to train huskies; he may be able to elaborate on that.) You'd think that other breeds of dogs might have figured out that pipes are not their friends.
While on a business trip in 1998, I was driving on U.S. Route 101 in Santa Clara, California, when I received a call on my cell phone from Sandra. She told me that we had a new granddaughter, named Tess Mary.
Happy 8th Birthday, Tess.
Last night's Red Sox/Yankees game was broadcast on ESPN. Because the Yankees have their own cable channel with exclusive rights to broadcasts in this area, ESPN was blocked in the hotel room.
In 1990 or so, Terry Bisson wrote a short story for the now-defunct Omni magazine. The story, "They're Made Out of Meat," describes how visitors from another planet are shocked when they learn that our computers (us) are made out of meat. "ThatÂ’s ridiculous. How can meat make a machine?" The story is now a seven-minute video, well worth the time to watch it.
Next stop in the Quiz Department: by looking at pictures, can you tell who invented a computer programming language and who is a serial killer? Here's the test. My score? Eight of 10.
IBM has come a long way from the white shirt and tie days, but it still draws the line regarding appearance. For example, it appears that IBM didn't like this guy's pink hair.
It looks as though 911 is out of service. (via) Do we call 912?
In 2002 a beagle named Woodsie was trapped in a culvert for nearly a day and half. Mike was part of the rescue team. At Tess's first communion party, we saw Woodsie's family. The dog is still doing fine. Last month, a dog in Texas was trapped in a pipe. Here's the story (via). Huskies avoid open water, even when in temperate climes, because their arctic instincts tell them falling into the water can mean death. (At least one reader of this journal used to train huskies; he may be able to elaborate on that.) You'd think that other breeds of dogs might have figured out that pipes are not their friends.
While on a business trip in 1998, I was driving on U.S. Route 101 in Santa Clara, California, when I received a call on my cell phone from Sandra. She told me that we had a new granddaughter, named Tess Mary.
Happy 8th Birthday, Tess.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Where there's smoke, there's Huck.
My father usually parks his car in his garage. The best way to know that he's home is by the smoke coming from the chimney. Nine or 10 months of the year, there's a fire in the stove when he's home.
When we visited him on Sunday, he mentioned that he had borrowed our pole saw from the camp. There were some limbs along his property's edge that were getting in the way of the wood delivery truck. We can all be very grateful that he chose to borrow the pole saw rather than getting up on a ladder with his chain saw.
We are working with a lot of people for whom English is not their native language. Sometimes there are idioms that are particular to American culture, as well as to the language. Earlier this week, I made a joking response to an email sent by a QA engineer from Turkey. She was worried that her original note wasn't clear. I reassured her that her message was very clear, but that my sense of humor is the thing that isn't clear. I apologized and hope that she's ok.
But, Americanisms march on. When I bough my lunch the other day, the cashier forgot to ring up one item. "My bad," she said in her rather thick Arabic accent.
On the way to New York, the exit numbers go like this:
On the way down, I stopped at Staples to pick up a couple of things. A very nice man helped me find what I needed. Then, he said, "If you need more help, I can ask one of the other guys."
Two jobs of note showed up in my automated searches for a technical documentation job. (I'm still not looking, but it's fun to see what shows up.) In both cases, they were looking for a detail-oriented writer. To paraphrase Chuck Berry, it must have been some otherbody. It isn't me.
I didn't make this up, nor did I write any of it. (This page is ok, but some of the other links and pages may not, nay, are not safe for work.)
Happy Anniversary, Adam and Jennie.
When we visited him on Sunday, he mentioned that he had borrowed our pole saw from the camp. There were some limbs along his property's edge that were getting in the way of the wood delivery truck. We can all be very grateful that he chose to borrow the pole saw rather than getting up on a ladder with his chain saw.
We are working with a lot of people for whom English is not their native language. Sometimes there are idioms that are particular to American culture, as well as to the language. Earlier this week, I made a joking response to an email sent by a QA engineer from Turkey. She was worried that her original note wasn't clear. I reassured her that her message was very clear, but that my sense of humor is the thing that isn't clear. I apologized and hope that she's ok.
But, Americanisms march on. When I bough my lunch the other day, the cashier forgot to ring up one item. "My bad," she said in her rather thick Arabic accent.
On the way to New York, the exit numbers go like this:
33 - 31 - 29 - 28 - 27 - 29 - 28 - 27 - 26I think that the Connecticut-New York state line is between exits 27 and 29.
On the way down, I stopped at Staples to pick up a couple of things. A very nice man helped me find what I needed. Then, he said, "If you need more help, I can ask one of the other guys."
Two jobs of note showed up in my automated searches for a technical documentation job. (I'm still not looking, but it's fun to see what shows up.) In both cases, they were looking for a detail-oriented writer. To paraphrase Chuck Berry, it must have been some otherbody. It isn't me.
- Diesel Mobile Mechanic.Pays attention to detail. Approaches work in a meticulous and thorough manner.
- US-OR-Portland-Detailed Technical Writer Position. (This was removed from the job site by the time I was able to get to it.)
I didn't make this up, nor did I write any of it. (This page is ok, but some of the other links and pages may not, nay, are not safe for work.)
Happy Anniversary, Adam and Jennie.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Here they are
Edward Scott Dias MacGregor on the left.
Phillip Duncan Dias MacGregor on the right
Thanks to Aunt Barbara for the pictures.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Dept. of Corrections
In today's earlier post, I had incorrectly named Scott and Val's new sons. The boys' names are Charles and Scott.
Birthdays abound
Today we'll go to Tess's first communion today. Mike says that 100 people will be coming to the party afterwards.
The fence around our yard is in serious need of repair or replacement. We asked a local fence company to give us an estimate, which arrived on Friday. This morning, as I was preparing to pay this week's bills, I saw Marley walking through the neighbor's yard Yes, it's time to fix the fence.
If you work in a bank and someone tries to deposit a $25 million check, try to be a little suspicious, ok?
Michael Francis and I had an instant message chat as we tried to track down a book for a critique that he was writing. Because of copyright laws, it wasn't possible to find a copy of the book on the web. (He has already read the book and has the report written, but just needs a couple of quotes.)
Lost in the brouhaha about whether it's appropriate or not to sing the national anthem in Spanish is the basic fact that the tune is unsingable. My personal preference would be Woody Guthrie's This Land Is Your Land. His son, Arlo, has some definite and differing ideas on that. Arlo says that if it becomes the national anthem, we won't be able to have as much fun changing the verses when we want and need to.
More about the national anthem at Scott McLellan's press briefing.
Congratulation to Val and Scott on the birth of their sons, Phillip and Scott.
Happy Birthday, TJL
The fence around our yard is in serious need of repair or replacement. We asked a local fence company to give us an estimate, which arrived on Friday. This morning, as I was preparing to pay this week's bills, I saw Marley walking through the neighbor's yard Yes, it's time to fix the fence.
If you work in a bank and someone tries to deposit a $25 million check, try to be a little suspicious, ok?
Michael Francis and I had an instant message chat as we tried to track down a book for a critique that he was writing. Because of copyright laws, it wasn't possible to find a copy of the book on the web. (He has already read the book and has the report written, but just needs a couple of quotes.)
Lost in the brouhaha about whether it's appropriate or not to sing the national anthem in Spanish is the basic fact that the tune is unsingable. My personal preference would be Woody Guthrie's This Land Is Your Land. His son, Arlo, has some definite and differing ideas on that. Arlo says that if it becomes the national anthem, we won't be able to have as much fun changing the verses when we want and need to.
More about the national anthem at Scott McLellan's press briefing.
"Q Scott, I wonder -- on Friday, the President firmly said he believes the National Anthem should be sung in English. Kevin Phillips, the Republican analyst, wrote a book called American Dynasty, and in there he claims that during the President's 2000 campaign, he did sing the Star Spangled Banner in Spanish at some Hispanic festivals, various campaign events. Are you aware, do you recall that from the 2000 campaign?We saw two Baltimore orioles (the birds, not the baseball players) snacking on the blossoms on our apple tree. Beautiful birds.
MR. McCLELLAN: No, I don't.
Q Do you think that that would be counter to what the President laid out on Friday?
MR. McCLELLAN: I don't recall that, and I'm not going to try to speculate on something I haven't looked into."
Congratulation to Val and Scott on the birth of their sons, Phillip and Scott.
Happy Birthday, TJL
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Cogito, ergo sum. Cogito.
There are a couple of oak trees in the back yard that don't look healthy. They have a mold on the trunk that may be the culprit. Unlike the sudden oak death that's been killing oaks around the country, in which case the tree is dead within weeks, this ailment has been progressing for a year or more. These aren't very old trees, perhaps 40-50 years. We'll see what kind of summer they have and make our decision accordingly.
After a long and agitated wait, we have five requisitions to hire people, two in the office where I work and three in New York. In addition, I'll be able to bring one or two people for six-month contracts. We have a couple of good candides already and a couple more will be coming in to talk with us next week. Even with those new hires, we'll have quite a challenge to meet the deadlines schedule for late June and early July. During a conference call yesterday afternoon, a co-worker asked if this was a time to panic. I said that a bit of panic might not be out of line. At which she panicked, "If you say it's time to panic..."
Just Marley and me for the evening. Sandra's gone into Boston to visit a friend she's known since second-grade. The families moved to different towns and Sandra's friend has been in California since college, I believe. She has two children, the youngest is attending BU as an art major. Sandra's friend and her daughter will fly back to California tomorrow.
There's a threat of frost tonight and again tomorrow, although it's not likely that we'll get any her or at the camp. This is kind of frost that settles into the valleys. This is something that I have trouble understands. If you go up to the top of a hill, you'll be cooler. Here's a table that shows the effect. I'll track down an explantion later.
One of the maxims in parenting is that if a kid wants to mow the lawn, the kid is probably too young. The grandson of our next door neighbors is somewhere between eight and 10. I don't know if he volunteered or not, but he did a good job.
Fifteen years ago or so, I heard a loud explosion next door. I ran out of the house, expecting to see that the furnace had exploded. The lawn-mowing kid's father was standing on their door step. "It was nothin," he said. "Just an M80."
Not only is this in Deleware getting fired, they're throwing books of lawsuits at him as he runs out the door. Hel also spent an "spent an inordinate amount of time engaged in personal iPod-related activities."
Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon has been on the Billboard chart for 1500 weeks, a record. About half of those weeks were consecutive, starting in 1973. (The article has the wrong album cover. It should be this.)
There was a nice Spiritul Life column in today's Boston Globe about philosophical healing. My mother was quite taken by the idea of philosophical counseling when she first encountered it.
After a long and agitated wait, we have five requisitions to hire people, two in the office where I work and three in New York. In addition, I'll be able to bring one or two people for six-month contracts. We have a couple of good candides already and a couple more will be coming in to talk with us next week. Even with those new hires, we'll have quite a challenge to meet the deadlines schedule for late June and early July. During a conference call yesterday afternoon, a co-worker asked if this was a time to panic. I said that a bit of panic might not be out of line. At which she panicked, "If you say it's time to panic..."
Just Marley and me for the evening. Sandra's gone into Boston to visit a friend she's known since second-grade. The families moved to different towns and Sandra's friend has been in California since college, I believe. She has two children, the youngest is attending BU as an art major. Sandra's friend and her daughter will fly back to California tomorrow.
There's a threat of frost tonight and again tomorrow, although it's not likely that we'll get any her or at the camp. This is kind of frost that settles into the valleys. This is something that I have trouble understands. If you go up to the top of a hill, you'll be cooler. Here's a table that shows the effect. I'll track down an explantion later.
One of the maxims in parenting is that if a kid wants to mow the lawn, the kid is probably too young. The grandson of our next door neighbors is somewhere between eight and 10. I don't know if he volunteered or not, but he did a good job.
Fifteen years ago or so, I heard a loud explosion next door. I ran out of the house, expecting to see that the furnace had exploded. The lawn-mowing kid's father was standing on their door step. "It was nothin," he said. "Just an M80."
Not only is this in Deleware getting fired, they're throwing books of lawsuits at him as he runs out the door. Hel also spent an "spent an inordinate amount of time engaged in personal iPod-related activities."
Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon has been on the Billboard chart for 1500 weeks, a record. About half of those weeks were consecutive, starting in 1973. (The article has the wrong album cover. It should be this.)
There was a nice Spiritul Life column in today's Boston Globe about philosophical healing. My mother was quite taken by the idea of philosophical counseling when she first encountered it.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
April showers bring May showers
A light rain started overnight and will continue through the day. We need the rain. Yesterday, the National Weather Service had a red flag warning for fire danger. Large brush fires were reported in Auburn and in the Great Blue Hills Reservation.
During a recent visit, my father talked about a trip to Finland with with his friend, Ted, in the mid-70s. We learned about the archipelago off the coast of Finland and its Swedish-speaking inhabitants. We learned about a guy (friend or relative, we're not sure) named John who could lift a 55-gallon barrel of oil by the rim, using just his finger tips. When the scrapbook came out, we saw pictures of the islands, as well as a picture postcard of my grandmother's home town, Kannonkoski. Judging from the cars, two Volkswagens and a Saab, in the picture, the aerial shot was taken some time in the 60s. My grandfather came from the neighboring town of Kivijärvi. Thanks to Sandra's efforts, we have a good genealogical record of my grandmother's family. We have, however, almost nothing about my grandfather. He left for American and seemed to have no contact with his family again.
The little cove next to the boathouse is lined with old tires. Because we now tie the boat to the dock near the sauna, we don't need those tires and plan to remove them. Anyone want a couple dozen 40-year old tires? Turning them into furniture is a possibility. As long a tradition as it is, the option of throwing them on the side of some dirt road has fallen from favor.
Even as Sears has branched out to show other brand-name products, such as Whirlpool, Frigidaire, and Milwaukee, it still features its own brands prominently. So, the Craftsman and Kenmore products are easy to find. Around the store, signs displaying the brand names are hanging on the walls, although not always with the best placement. At a nearby mall, a sign for DieHard batteries was placed prominently above the women's shoes department. Free jumper cables with each set of pumps.
The other day, I heard Josh White perform Strange Fruit a song long associated with Billie Holliday. His version was every bit as terrifying, even though his voice had nowhere the range or force. His understated performance made the material all the more unnverving.
Last week, I did a Google search to find out more about the meeting between China's president Hu and our W. One of the papers that had a worthwhile writeup was the World Peace Herald. My mother and her close friends would have been interested in anything that talked regularly about peace in the world. Well, it turns out that the WPH is published by the Unification Church, aka the Moonies. (See note at the bottom of the column.)
If you're going to get sick, July's not a good month. (Here's why.) This guy, for example, chose April to drive 12 nails into his head.
A guy tries to board a flight at Rhode Island's T.F. Green Airport. The guy's got a loaded handgun in his carry-on bag, along with extra ammunition. You'd think that would be the weird part. No, the weird part is that the guy was "released on an unsecured bond this morning because he is not considered a flight risk." What part of trying to board an airplane didn't they understand?
American Airlines is offering weekend getaway fares. For $199, you can fly from New York to Los Angeles. Or, for the same $199, you can fly from Chicago to La Crosse, Wisconsin.
During a recent visit, my father talked about a trip to Finland with with his friend, Ted, in the mid-70s. We learned about the archipelago off the coast of Finland and its Swedish-speaking inhabitants. We learned about a guy (friend or relative, we're not sure) named John who could lift a 55-gallon barrel of oil by the rim, using just his finger tips. When the scrapbook came out, we saw pictures of the islands, as well as a picture postcard of my grandmother's home town, Kannonkoski. Judging from the cars, two Volkswagens and a Saab, in the picture, the aerial shot was taken some time in the 60s. My grandfather came from the neighboring town of Kivijärvi. Thanks to Sandra's efforts, we have a good genealogical record of my grandmother's family. We have, however, almost nothing about my grandfather. He left for American and seemed to have no contact with his family again.
The little cove next to the boathouse is lined with old tires. Because we now tie the boat to the dock near the sauna, we don't need those tires and plan to remove them. Anyone want a couple dozen 40-year old tires? Turning them into furniture is a possibility. As long a tradition as it is, the option of throwing them on the side of some dirt road has fallen from favor.
Even as Sears has branched out to show other brand-name products, such as Whirlpool, Frigidaire, and Milwaukee, it still features its own brands prominently. So, the Craftsman and Kenmore products are easy to find. Around the store, signs displaying the brand names are hanging on the walls, although not always with the best placement. At a nearby mall, a sign for DieHard batteries was placed prominently above the women's shoes department. Free jumper cables with each set of pumps.
The other day, I heard Josh White perform Strange Fruit a song long associated with Billie Holliday. His version was every bit as terrifying, even though his voice had nowhere the range or force. His understated performance made the material all the more unnverving.
Last week, I did a Google search to find out more about the meeting between China's president Hu and our W. One of the papers that had a worthwhile writeup was the World Peace Herald. My mother and her close friends would have been interested in anything that talked regularly about peace in the world. Well, it turns out that the WPH is published by the Unification Church, aka the Moonies. (See note at the bottom of the column.)
If you're going to get sick, July's not a good month. (Here's why.) This guy, for example, chose April to drive 12 nails into his head.
A guy tries to board a flight at Rhode Island's T.F. Green Airport. The guy's got a loaded handgun in his carry-on bag, along with extra ammunition. You'd think that would be the weird part. No, the weird part is that the guy was "released on an unsecured bond this morning because he is not considered a flight risk." What part of trying to board an airplane didn't they understand?
American Airlines is offering weekend getaway fares. For $199, you can fly from New York to Los Angeles. Or, for the same $199, you can fly from Chicago to La Crosse, Wisconsin.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Un Dia Sin Inmigrantes
We probably won't be singing The Internationale today, but today's work boycott by immigrants is going to be the largest labor action that we've seen in a long time.
More than half of our team at work is foreign-born, from east, south, and west Asia, all engineers, all professionals. And for each one of them, there are a dozen whom we don't see, the people who pick our vegetables, build our roads, clean our offices and hotels, and wash our dishes at the restaurants where we eat. If nothing else, perhaps today we'll see these people, see them by their absence.
We can be further enlightened to know that Pravda (yes, it still exists) thinks that we're on the wrong track with our multiculturalism. To which, Mikhail Gorbachev says that both countries are on the same track, heading toward each other, as in the days of the Cold War. "We have not yet left the past behind: its death grip can be felt everywhere."
A story that we didn't finish reading.
It wasn't a good thing when the White House had its mojo, so I'm pretty well convinced that Josh Bolten's plan to get it back won't be a good thing, either.
I spend quite a bit of time waiting in line at the pharmacy. I want to be respectful of the others in line, but some things are out of my control. One evening, I stood behind an elderly man who was wearing hearing aids.
Among the things that we inherited from my mother were her pens. She used Papermate pens and bought them by the handful. Because we're not writing as much as she did (who could?), these pens are lasting a long time.
More than half of our team at work is foreign-born, from east, south, and west Asia, all engineers, all professionals. And for each one of them, there are a dozen whom we don't see, the people who pick our vegetables, build our roads, clean our offices and hotels, and wash our dishes at the restaurants where we eat. If nothing else, perhaps today we'll see these people, see them by their absence.
We can be further enlightened to know that Pravda (yes, it still exists) thinks that we're on the wrong track with our multiculturalism. To which, Mikhail Gorbachev says that both countries are on the same track, heading toward each other, as in the days of the Cold War. "We have not yet left the past behind: its death grip can be felt everywhere."
A story that we didn't finish reading.
It wasn't a good thing when the White House had its mojo, so I'm pretty well convinced that Josh Bolten's plan to get it back won't be a good thing, either.
I spend quite a bit of time waiting in line at the pharmacy. I want to be respectful of the others in line, but some things are out of my control. One evening, I stood behind an elderly man who was wearing hearing aids.
"Take two of these when you get home and one every six hours until the symptoms are gone," said the pharmacist.Spring continues to insinuate itself into our days. The music from the ice cream truck is a part of the evening's sounds. Young teenagers up the street play with a Frisbee, although they are, by any measure, pretty bad at it. The Frisbee goes into the bushes, into the trees, every place except into the hands of the intended receiver. The leaves on the trees are coming along nicely. To our north and west are towns that are two or three hundred feet higher than we are. Their trees are at least a week behind our pace.
"What's that?" said the man, leaning forward.
The pharmacist repeated the instructions, a bit more slowly and loudly.
"Take two," he said.
Louder yet. "And one every six hours until your symptoms are gone."
"Symptoms?"
Loudest. 'Until your gout doesn't bother you."
"Oh. OK."
Among the things that we inherited from my mother were her pens. She used Papermate pens and bought them by the handful. Because we're not writing as much as she did (who could?), these pens are lasting a long time.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Spring's a' springing
We spent this season's first night at the camp on Friday. Sandra went there in the afternoon to open up, start a fire, clean the yard, and, in general, make the place ready for overnight guests. There had been some overnighters before, as evidenced by the acorn on the shelf above the couch. We won't turn on the water for a couple more weeks, so water for washing (people and dishes) and coffee needed to be fetched from the lake by a bucket. I learned a long time ago, staying at my aunt and uncle's camp in Vermont, where water had to be brought from the stream, that carrying two buckets is easier than carrying one. Better balance. We have just one bucket at our camp, but we'll endure.
The next day we had three visitors. First, my father arrived a bit before noon for coffee and Finnish coffee bread. A short while later, boat guy Andy and his dog, Hydro, came to help us get the boat ready for the season. Hydro, a youthful yellow Lab, didn't do much work on the boat, but he kept Marley entertained. A slight row broke out when Hydro took one of Marley's squeak toys. Overall, though, the two dogs played hard and well.
Marley's showing signs of age. The play date with Hydro wore him out. Whenever he can, he finds places in the sun for his naps. Since we cleared away the trees, the area behind the camp is bright and sunny and the bed of hemlock and pine needles is warm. It's a good place for an old dog.
Next Saturday my father will go to the burial services for his friend, Arne, who died a few months ago. He'd known Arne since the time they worked in the Quincy shipyards in the 30s. Arne was the last of my father's friends who were the same age as my father.
We asked my father if he knew the way to the town where the services will be held. He did. He knew a guy, named Bill, who lived in that town. Bill drank a bit and when Bill drank, he regularly drove into a particular tree in the center of town. It happened so often that Bill's friends hung a old tire on the tree and put up a sign that said, "Bill's Tree." Bill had to spend a lot of time calling in favors from his political friends so that he could keep his license and get to work.
A black bear and her cubs were discovered in a maple tree in Barre. It took two state agencies and the local fire department to bring the bears down safely. The bears were then delivered to the Phillipston wildlife preserve, about three miles, as the bears walk, from our camp.
A news item that I somehow missed: last Friday was National Hairball Awareness Day.
The recent news about the Massachusetts department of health publishing a report that ties incidents of cancer to a toxic waste site in Ashland reminds me of the Nashua River in Fitchburg in the 60s. The river would be different colors, depending on the dyes that the paper mills were using that day. Sometimes red, sometimes yellow, sometimes green. We never swam in it, nor did I know anybody who tried to fish there. The river is good now, although I would still hesitate to put my toe in there, unless that toe was in a rubber boot.
The next day we had three visitors. First, my father arrived a bit before noon for coffee and Finnish coffee bread. A short while later, boat guy Andy and his dog, Hydro, came to help us get the boat ready for the season. Hydro, a youthful yellow Lab, didn't do much work on the boat, but he kept Marley entertained. A slight row broke out when Hydro took one of Marley's squeak toys. Overall, though, the two dogs played hard and well.
Marley's showing signs of age. The play date with Hydro wore him out. Whenever he can, he finds places in the sun for his naps. Since we cleared away the trees, the area behind the camp is bright and sunny and the bed of hemlock and pine needles is warm. It's a good place for an old dog.
Next Saturday my father will go to the burial services for his friend, Arne, who died a few months ago. He'd known Arne since the time they worked in the Quincy shipyards in the 30s. Arne was the last of my father's friends who were the same age as my father.
We asked my father if he knew the way to the town where the services will be held. He did. He knew a guy, named Bill, who lived in that town. Bill drank a bit and when Bill drank, he regularly drove into a particular tree in the center of town. It happened so often that Bill's friends hung a old tire on the tree and put up a sign that said, "Bill's Tree." Bill had to spend a lot of time calling in favors from his political friends so that he could keep his license and get to work.
A black bear and her cubs were discovered in a maple tree in Barre. It took two state agencies and the local fire department to bring the bears down safely. The bears were then delivered to the Phillipston wildlife preserve, about three miles, as the bears walk, from our camp.
A news item that I somehow missed: last Friday was National Hairball Awareness Day.
The recent news about the Massachusetts department of health publishing a report that ties incidents of cancer to a toxic waste site in Ashland reminds me of the Nashua River in Fitchburg in the 60s. The river would be different colors, depending on the dyes that the paper mills were using that day. Sometimes red, sometimes yellow, sometimes green. We never swam in it, nor did I know anybody who tried to fish there. The river is good now, although I would still hesitate to put my toe in there, unless that toe was in a rubber boot.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Ice on the bird bath
Dunno if the birds knew, but I didn't expect to see the bird bath frozen over this morning. It was warm yesterday and raining last night. This is why we don't turn on the water at the camp until mid-May or later.
Last night we went to see our financial advisor at her home. In addition to the usual "spend less, save more" message, she provided us with a couple of good ideas to help us be comfortable during our retirement. She also didn't blanch when we talked about specific years for retirement. We won't be living off of tins of cat food, but if we fly overseas, it might be like this.
Our FA and her partner bought their house late last year. It's a well-designed and extremely spacious town-house with a stunning amount of storage space. The house is one of the first in a newly-constructed over-55 development. (A sign at the driveway entrance says that hard hats must be worn at all times.) These are people not much older than we are, still working, but with very flexible schedules. As we arrives, our FA's partner was taking their yellow Lab to a program at the library. Kids learn how to read aloud by reading to the dogs. (More here.)
The area where they live is evolving, as are most towns around here. There are new homes, some small and some large, under construction all along the road. There are new shops and offices for professionals such as lawyers and real estate agents and accountants. And, across the street, there's a bait shop.
The closest that I've come to putting a rusty drill bit into my eardrum was last night as I heard Pat Boone sing Smoke on the Water.
We were out late, past eight o'clock. I'm back in an old pattern of waking very early. Today it was 2:30; in the previous several days, it was 1:30. I met with my doctor yesterday and we have something new to try. New is good, because old is getting old.
We're marking the 20th anniversary of the Chernobyl explosion. To the tragic stories of death and displacement, heroic stories of those covered the maniacal reactor in concrete, I can add just one tiny anecdote. The radiation cloud drifted north-northwest and reached Finland in a couple of days. The reindeer, a source of meat for the Finns and the Sami, were so badly contaminated that the meat couldn't be eaten. So, they fed it to the minks.
What would you do for an iPod? You can leave your dignity by the curb on your way out.
Last night we went to see our financial advisor at her home. In addition to the usual "spend less, save more" message, she provided us with a couple of good ideas to help us be comfortable during our retirement. She also didn't blanch when we talked about specific years for retirement. We won't be living off of tins of cat food, but if we fly overseas, it might be like this.
Our FA and her partner bought their house late last year. It's a well-designed and extremely spacious town-house with a stunning amount of storage space. The house is one of the first in a newly-constructed over-55 development. (A sign at the driveway entrance says that hard hats must be worn at all times.) These are people not much older than we are, still working, but with very flexible schedules. As we arrives, our FA's partner was taking their yellow Lab to a program at the library. Kids learn how to read aloud by reading to the dogs. (More here.)
The area where they live is evolving, as are most towns around here. There are new homes, some small and some large, under construction all along the road. There are new shops and offices for professionals such as lawyers and real estate agents and accountants. And, across the street, there's a bait shop.
The closest that I've come to putting a rusty drill bit into my eardrum was last night as I heard Pat Boone sing Smoke on the Water.
We were out late, past eight o'clock. I'm back in an old pattern of waking very early. Today it was 2:30; in the previous several days, it was 1:30. I met with my doctor yesterday and we have something new to try. New is good, because old is getting old.
We're marking the 20th anniversary of the Chernobyl explosion. To the tragic stories of death and displacement, heroic stories of those covered the maniacal reactor in concrete, I can add just one tiny anecdote. The radiation cloud drifted north-northwest and reached Finland in a couple of days. The reindeer, a source of meat for the Finns and the Sami, were so badly contaminated that the meat couldn't be eaten. So, they fed it to the minks.
What would you do for an iPod? You can leave your dignity by the curb on your way out.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
This is what rain looks like
After a few delightfully warm and sunny days, we've settled into a stretch of cool rain. It was freezing yesterday morning and just a few degrees above today. Goodness knows, we need the rain. The reservoirs are a foot or two down from their normal spring levels.
The floor in our family living is littered with Marley's toys. For the last six months, he's been leaving the toys in the MacGregors' apartment. Now that the MacGs' have gone back to PEI, Marley's squeaky, plushable, and chewable playthings have come back home.
Woody and Marian left for the island on Friday morning, staying overnight in New Brunswick, and arriving at the house in early afternoon. The house and property appear to have wintered well. They could not, however, get to the shore. Some logs had washed up on shore, blocking the path to the water. Earlier this winter, a ship carrying pulp wood lost its load in the waters off PEI and Nova Scotia. These are probably some of the same logs.
We went to visit Adam, Jennie, and Lily for a birthday breakfast yesterday morning. Good fun. They've been in their new house for three months and each visit shows how they are settling in. Sandra made curtains for their front window, a bright Swedish pattern that went nicely with the log cabin interior.
On the way back, we stopped at Whole Foods. I wanted some fruits, but, as one would expect, other things found their way into the shopping cart. One thing that we didn't buy was a package of Seaweed Rice Crackers. I get too hungry too often, but I don't think that I'd get hungry enough for Seaweed Rice Crackers.
The newspapers are late today, perhaps because there isn't much news.
Friday's New York Times carried a review of a new production of Brecht's Threepenny Opera, a wild, contemporary treatment with, notably, Cindy Lauper as Jenny. Overall, the review was not favorable, but the reviewer liked Ms. Lauper.
I did a season of summer stock theater in Vermont. Well, I wasn't really in the troupe; I was the janitor for the building. I did perform in one show - as a cop in Threepenny Opera. It was an intense show, made all the more so by the music. There was a small community band, mostly brass and woodwinds, perhaps a percussionist. They typically performed Sousa marches and show tunes for concerts on the common. Kurt Weil's music, with its complex rhythms and scales was quite a problem for them, but they soldiered on and gave a good series of shows.
Two buildings up from the theater was a small factory that made wood bowls and a small store that sold them. The owner, Sam Lloyd, was a regular participant in the theater's productions and he was quite good. Sam was the brother of Christopher Lloyd. Christopher appeared in a few shores years after I left.
We tried watching The Royal Tennenbaums last night, but turned it off halfway through. The storyline was good and the cast superb, but the writing was weak and plodding. This was my choice, so Sandra gets to put the next movie into our Netflix queue. BTW, here's a interesting write-up of the history of Netflix envelopes.
In the Almost A Good Idea Dept., we learn that a Canadian has developed a cigarette that will deliver your daily supply of Vitamin C.
Would you pay $800 or so for a device that will keep teenagers from congregating in places where you don't want them to be? The gadget emits a high-frequency sound that doesn't bother us because our ears are old. Purportedly, the sound doesn't bother dogs. The current model mounts on a wall or a pole. When they have a hat-sized product, their sales will likely really take off.
The floor in our family living is littered with Marley's toys. For the last six months, he's been leaving the toys in the MacGregors' apartment. Now that the MacGs' have gone back to PEI, Marley's squeaky, plushable, and chewable playthings have come back home.
Woody and Marian left for the island on Friday morning, staying overnight in New Brunswick, and arriving at the house in early afternoon. The house and property appear to have wintered well. They could not, however, get to the shore. Some logs had washed up on shore, blocking the path to the water. Earlier this winter, a ship carrying pulp wood lost its load in the waters off PEI and Nova Scotia. These are probably some of the same logs.
We went to visit Adam, Jennie, and Lily for a birthday breakfast yesterday morning. Good fun. They've been in their new house for three months and each visit shows how they are settling in. Sandra made curtains for their front window, a bright Swedish pattern that went nicely with the log cabin interior.
On the way back, we stopped at Whole Foods. I wanted some fruits, but, as one would expect, other things found their way into the shopping cart. One thing that we didn't buy was a package of Seaweed Rice Crackers. I get too hungry too often, but I don't think that I'd get hungry enough for Seaweed Rice Crackers.
The newspapers are late today, perhaps because there isn't much news.
Friday's New York Times carried a review of a new production of Brecht's Threepenny Opera, a wild, contemporary treatment with, notably, Cindy Lauper as Jenny. Overall, the review was not favorable, but the reviewer liked Ms. Lauper.
I did a season of summer stock theater in Vermont. Well, I wasn't really in the troupe; I was the janitor for the building. I did perform in one show - as a cop in Threepenny Opera. It was an intense show, made all the more so by the music. There was a small community band, mostly brass and woodwinds, perhaps a percussionist. They typically performed Sousa marches and show tunes for concerts on the common. Kurt Weil's music, with its complex rhythms and scales was quite a problem for them, but they soldiered on and gave a good series of shows.
Two buildings up from the theater was a small factory that made wood bowls and a small store that sold them. The owner, Sam Lloyd, was a regular participant in the theater's productions and he was quite good. Sam was the brother of Christopher Lloyd. Christopher appeared in a few shores years after I left.
We tried watching The Royal Tennenbaums last night, but turned it off halfway through. The storyline was good and the cast superb, but the writing was weak and plodding. This was my choice, so Sandra gets to put the next movie into our Netflix queue. BTW, here's a interesting write-up of the history of Netflix envelopes.
In the Almost A Good Idea Dept., we learn that a Canadian has developed a cigarette that will deliver your daily supply of Vitamin C.
Would you pay $800 or so for a device that will keep teenagers from congregating in places where you don't want them to be? The gadget emits a high-frequency sound that doesn't bother us because our ears are old. Purportedly, the sound doesn't bother dogs. The current model mounts on a wall or a pole. When they have a hat-sized product, their sales will likely really take off.
Friday, April 21, 2006
If you can't hear, talk louder.
Well, yesterday afternoon's meeting started off on the downhill side and kept going. "We're going to have to manage this almost like a project release," the project leader told the 20 or so people who had come to talk about the, um, product release. We did have an agenda, but it was quickly set aside as we tried to get the teleconference and in-room projector set up. The people on the phone were told, "If you can't hear, speak up." We never did get anything to the remote participants so they could see what we were discussing. It was very technical stuff and the speakers kept referring to the slide presentation. (They had this cool laser pointer.)
During the meeting, there were two, three, and sometimes four conversations going on at once. One guy in the back of the room was the most chatty. I think that he was someone important, but I don't know because we never did introductions. The chairperson knew everyone and that seemed to be good enough.
The meeting that was scheduled to end at 5:00 let out at 5:45, but with no decisions made or action items assigned, except that we'll have another meeting next Thursday. In that state of bliss, I drove the three hours to home.
In the high-rent mall near the office down yonder, I saw mall cops patrolling the carpeted aisles on Segways.
God, grant me the serenity.... What's additionally weird is that, in the middle of the story about an AA meeting, there's this advertisement for a huge beer keg sale.
The wireless network in the house went down for a little nap this morning. When I ran through the usual diagnostics, I received this message So, I asked myself for assistance and recommended that we reboot the modem and router.
Queen Elizabeth II turns 80 today. Some days she looks better than others. Usually, the Brits celebrate her birthday in June, when the weather's better. It's good to be the Queen.
In the early 50s, Walt Kelly, of Pogo fame, was in regular conversation with the editors of Life to arrange for one of his drawings to appear on the magazine's cover. For a variety of reasons, the
cover kept getting postponed. Finally, as the story goes, the editors set a date - February 18, 1952. Nothing could stop it. Except that which did. King George VI died and was succeeded on the throne by his daughter, Elizabeth II. So, the Life magazine issue ran with a picture of the young Queen Elizabeth on the cover and Kelly's drawing inside.
Out there where moose stroll the railroad tracks, we send birthday greetings to Adam.
During the meeting, there were two, three, and sometimes four conversations going on at once. One guy in the back of the room was the most chatty. I think that he was someone important, but I don't know because we never did introductions. The chairperson knew everyone and that seemed to be good enough.
The meeting that was scheduled to end at 5:00 let out at 5:45, but with no decisions made or action items assigned, except that we'll have another meeting next Thursday. In that state of bliss, I drove the three hours to home.
In the high-rent mall near the office down yonder, I saw mall cops patrolling the carpeted aisles on Segways.
God, grant me the serenity.... What's additionally weird is that, in the middle of the story about an AA meeting, there's this advertisement for a huge beer keg sale.
The wireless network in the house went down for a little nap this morning. When I ran through the usual diagnostics, I received this message So, I asked myself for assistance and recommended that we reboot the modem and router.
Queen Elizabeth II turns 80 today. Some days she looks better than others. Usually, the Brits celebrate her birthday in June, when the weather's better. It's good to be the Queen.
In the early 50s, Walt Kelly, of Pogo fame, was in regular conversation with the editors of Life to arrange for one of his drawings to appear on the magazine's cover. For a variety of reasons, the
cover kept getting postponed. Finally, as the story goes, the editors set a date - February 18, 1952. Nothing could stop it. Except that which did. King George VI died and was succeeded on the throne by his daughter, Elizabeth II. So, the Life magazine issue ran with a picture of the young Queen Elizabeth on the cover and Kelly's drawing inside.
Out there where moose stroll the railroad tracks, we send birthday greetings to Adam.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
The view from the top floor
So, on this trip, I get an upgrade to the "Club Level" of the hotel. The room is about a third larger and I have a love seat instead of a chair. But, we've been on daylight saving time for more than two weeks and the alarm clock is still on standard time. Being on the top floor, I spend more time in the elevator. One of the boxes has a very clunky ride, like the cog railroad going to the top of Mount Washington. There is a free breakfast buffet, so I eat better and the company doesn't have to pay for my meal expense.
Last night we went to dinner with several members of the team. The sales people on our project picked up the tab in celebration of the signing of a new contract. It was a nice night so we walked to and fro. On the way, we passed a new Wal-Mart being built on the ground floor of an office building (?!). (We're were just a couple blocks from one of the most high-priced malls in the area, with Brooks Brothers, Louis Vuitton, Nordstrom, and Tiffany.) Returning, the long-time employees brought us past a shoe store, above which was the original home of this division of the company. We genuflected appropriately and got home a bit after 11.
I heard In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida on the radio when I was driving here. Few people clean and sober will care much for this song, but it lives on in legend. The car radio isn't really the best source for this kind of sound. Speakers facing out of the windows of a college dorm room, volume turned up to 11, on a spring afternoon, young people face down in the mud - that's where this song belongs.
I knew a guy who was an Elvis impersonator. He headed off to Las Vegas and, by all accounts, is doing well. This news, then, is likely to be unsettling, that the person who owns the rights to the Elvis images is trying to get unauthorized Elvii out of the building.
If you're out and around on May 25th, you might want to wear a hat, probably made of tin foil.
Last night we went to dinner with several members of the team. The sales people on our project picked up the tab in celebration of the signing of a new contract. It was a nice night so we walked to and fro. On the way, we passed a new Wal-Mart being built on the ground floor of an office building (?!). (We're were just a couple blocks from one of the most high-priced malls in the area, with Brooks Brothers, Louis Vuitton, Nordstrom, and Tiffany.) Returning, the long-time employees brought us past a shoe store, above which was the original home of this division of the company. We genuflected appropriately and got home a bit after 11.
I heard In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida on the radio when I was driving here. Few people clean and sober will care much for this song, but it lives on in legend. The car radio isn't really the best source for this kind of sound. Speakers facing out of the windows of a college dorm room, volume turned up to 11, on a spring afternoon, young people face down in the mud - that's where this song belongs.
Love the Diversity of God's Creation. ... A Beautiful Rainbow - And the Lord Said His Creation was GOOD!It's a reef dweller, so the Humuhumu-nukunuku-a-pua'a, Hawai‘i's soon-to-be official state fish, isn't likely to wind up in Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg.
Sounds nice, doesn't it? Think again.
I knew a guy who was an Elvis impersonator. He headed off to Las Vegas and, by all accounts, is doing well. This news, then, is likely to be unsettling, that the person who owns the rights to the Elvis images is trying to get unauthorized Elvii out of the building.
If you're out and around on May 25th, you might want to wear a hat, probably made of tin foil.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Of friends and family
We had Easter dinner at Mike and Lynn's, a grand gathering and a great feast. Adam and Lily joined us. (Jennie had to work on her recertification exam.) We had lamb and ham and potatoes and salad and summer squash casserole and on and on. I lucked out (in many ways). While the last-minute preparations were underway, I got to hold Miss Cassie.
Late in the afternoon, we brought leftovers to my father. His friend, Ted, had come over for sauna. Ted's an interesting guy, a member of the ski troops in WWII, a working artist in Finland for nearly 20 years, a teacher of art at a local community college for another 20 or so, a Ph. D. in linguists or anthropology or somesuch, with a thesis on commonalities of Nordic languages, including the Inuit and Sami. Ted comes for sauna every three or four weeks and usually brings a load of firewood in payment.
After our brief visit, we went to the camp. Half up the hill on the camp road, we let Marley out of the car so that he can run. A short way up the road, we met a neighbor who was letting his new golden retriever, Max, run alongside the ATV. Sometimes Marley isn't the best behaved around other dogs, particularly males, but meeting was jolly. They charged around the woods and had a grand time. We went to the camp with our neighbor and the dogs continued with their play date.
As you might suspect, I read a lot of stuff from a lot of web sources. RSS makes it too easy to keep track of 100s of web sites. Most of the material I find is useful in one way or another. A lot of the news, however, focuses on the strange doings of celebrities. It's interesting for a while, but gets stale and then dreary.
Friend Tom cites Bill Russell when saying that the only thing that a performer owes his fans is the performance. It's a way of saying, "My life off-court is mine." It applies to performers in other fields as well. A few years ago, I listened to a reading of Hemingway's The Old Man and The Sea, read by Charlton "If they want my gun, they'll have to rip it out of my cold, dead fingers." Heston. His reading was brilliant, absolutely brilliant.
This comes up because there's a lot in the news these days about the off-screen, off-stage, or off-field behavior of many performers and celebrities. Take Tom Cruise. Please. Norman Mailer has been a mind-numbing loony and yet will write some of the best prose of his time. Shirley MacLaine, Robert Downey, Jr., Dennis Rodman, Ted Williams, Curt Schilling (Republican), Barbra Streisand - all are or have been loopy until the lights come on. Oh, and then, of course, is the King, Elvis, whose off-stage wackiness killed him, even as he brought his career around with one of the most stunning comebacks ever.
And so, it would be nice to step back from our celebrity obsession for a while so that we can focus on the serious problems of the world, such as two young women from Orkney who are afraid of ketchup.
Late in the afternoon, we brought leftovers to my father. His friend, Ted, had come over for sauna. Ted's an interesting guy, a member of the ski troops in WWII, a working artist in Finland for nearly 20 years, a teacher of art at a local community college for another 20 or so, a Ph. D. in linguists or anthropology or somesuch, with a thesis on commonalities of Nordic languages, including the Inuit and Sami. Ted comes for sauna every three or four weeks and usually brings a load of firewood in payment.
After our brief visit, we went to the camp. Half up the hill on the camp road, we let Marley out of the car so that he can run. A short way up the road, we met a neighbor who was letting his new golden retriever, Max, run alongside the ATV. Sometimes Marley isn't the best behaved around other dogs, particularly males, but meeting was jolly. They charged around the woods and had a grand time. We went to the camp with our neighbor and the dogs continued with their play date.
As you might suspect, I read a lot of stuff from a lot of web sources. RSS makes it too easy to keep track of 100s of web sites. Most of the material I find is useful in one way or another. A lot of the news, however, focuses on the strange doings of celebrities. It's interesting for a while, but gets stale and then dreary.
Friend Tom cites Bill Russell when saying that the only thing that a performer owes his fans is the performance. It's a way of saying, "My life off-court is mine." It applies to performers in other fields as well. A few years ago, I listened to a reading of Hemingway's The Old Man and The Sea, read by Charlton "If they want my gun, they'll have to rip it out of my cold, dead fingers." Heston. His reading was brilliant, absolutely brilliant.
This comes up because there's a lot in the news these days about the off-screen, off-stage, or off-field behavior of many performers and celebrities. Take Tom Cruise. Please. Norman Mailer has been a mind-numbing loony and yet will write some of the best prose of his time. Shirley MacLaine, Robert Downey, Jr., Dennis Rodman, Ted Williams, Curt Schilling (Republican), Barbra Streisand - all are or have been loopy until the lights come on. Oh, and then, of course, is the King, Elvis, whose off-stage wackiness killed him, even as he brought his career around with one of the most stunning comebacks ever.
And so, it would be nice to step back from our celebrity obsession for a while so that we can focus on the serious problems of the world, such as two young women from Orkney who are afraid of ketchup.
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