Honey, I'm going to mow the picnic table

We drove to and from Florence to pick up Lily and bring her to our house for the night. It was stormy with thunder, lightning, and heavy rain. Occasionally, the rain would lessen and we could see the tops of the hills clipped by clouds. The travel was often treacherous, particularly as we went through Worcester where the highway is narrowed by construction work. Remember, this is Massachusetts when, even in good weather, lane markings, breakdown lanes, stop lights, turn signals, and speed limits are pretty much just suggestions for other people. So, we had scary moments with trucks to our right, Jersey barriers to our left, and lots of water above, below, and in between.

But we arrived home safely around 10PM and got Lily safely home into our guest room. The house was cool.

At breakfast we gathered at the table by the window and marveled at the lushness of the yard. During the winter we sprinkle bird seed on a picnic table on the back deck, in addition to the seed in the feeders. A few seeds, stuck in table top, have sprouted. If the rains continue, we'll have this soon.

Lily is confident and article, so much so that I'm likely to forget that she is still five. On the way home, we were talking about what we'd have for breakfast. "Mac and cheese?" I asked. I think she took me seriously, or maybe she was just bringing the joke back to me. While I was getting the cereal on the table, she brought me a box of Mac and cheese.

And now, I'm at work. This is a blog about work. This day will go quickly as I try to get my various projects into a known state by day's end - knowing what I know and knowing what I don't know. It was explained to me that there are four stages of wisdom, in descending order:

1. Knowing
   
2. Knowing what I don't know
   
3. Knowing what I know
   
4. Not knowing what I don't know

There are variants on that, theories of complex systems and such. For another day, though. I need to get to work.

A night of music

On Tuesday we had the air conditioners doing the full-tilt boogie. This morning, if we were going to be at home for the day, we'd need a fire in the stove. Which reminds me, I need to clean my father's chimney. He mentioned that the chimney hadn't been cleaned for a couple of years. Imagine that. Two years ago (when he was 89) he was getting on the roof to run a set of brushes down the chimney.

Last night we went to a recital. Michael and Krista were outstanding. Music is about hitting the right notes, but, perhaps more importantly, it's about rhythm. Both pieces were rhythmically demanding and they met the challenges wonderfully.

Several people from our former church attended the recital, cheering on one of the children from the congregation. It's like seeing an flame from long ago. We were alternately thrilled and reminded why we had left that church. But the night wasn't about the adults and their weirdnesses. It was about the kids and their music.

Speaking of weirdness and music, Gizmodo brings us this collection of music and machines and whatever.

This is wrong at so many levels - a squirrel decanter.

Adam and Jennie are on their way to Hawaii. Jennie's mother, Diane, is watching Lily today. We'll pick up Lily this evening and have her with us for a couple of days. Sandra and Lily may have their nails done tomorrow (although probably not like this). Tomorrow night we'll sleep at the camp. Lily will then go to Mike and Lynn's for an overnight on Saturday. We'll return her to Diane on Sunday, but not before we have a Father's Day pizza party at M&L's.

Something old. Something new.

We've recently purchased appliances at Sears, so Sears is now sending us love letters of all sorts. Yesterday we received a packet of coupons for discounts on various products, including jewelry. Thanks, but I have all the jewelry that I need. Sandra and I bought our wedding rings at Sears and they're working just fine.

When I bought this laptop last year, I also bought a 64MB USB drive. For those of you who haven't seen one, a USB drive is a little gadget that plugs into your computer and lets you store and transfer files and programs. You used to need a floppy disk to carry files to and from your work and home computers, for example. Well, the drive that I got yesterday holds 16 times the stuff that my year-old USB drive holds and costs less. I paid just over $60 for a 1GB drive.

As one technology columnist often observes, the future of technology is coming at us so quickly that we can't afford to blink.

I used to visit my aunt and uncle in St. Albans, Vermont. St. Albans in the upper-left corner, on Lake Champlain, and one town from Canada. Up there I could watch the Red Sox games broadcast in French from Montréal. (The Expos hadn't come and gone yet.) One day I turned on the radio and found a station from Plattsburg, New York, across the lake. They broadcasting a baseball game, but it was the Yankees game and they were playing someone like Cleveland. I was shocked. It was as though I had picked up Radio Moscow. Did people really listen to baseball games where the Red Sox were not playing? Was it legal for stations to do only Yankees games? I've calmed down since then, but it still doesn't feel quite right.

As I stood in the check-out line at Wal-Mart this past weekend, I noticed that White Owl is selling flavored cigars. Grape. Peach. Chocolate. Mocho Mint. All of that is just so wrong at so many levels.

The hamster will see you now.

Let me see if I've got this right. Come to Me, ye who are weary and heavy-laden and making more than $25,000 a year.

According to a story on NPR, McDonald's is sending Ronald McDonald on an mission to try to encourage kids to exercise more. Ronald wasn't available for comment, so they went to the next best, Richard Simmons. About Ronald, Simmons said, "He stole my Afro!"

Carpe diem,with mustard, relish, and onions

I've received reports about layoffs at IBM. Several former co-workers were told that they had 30 days to find a new job within the company or they'd be moving on. There had been a flurry of activity in LinkedIn, presaging the news. I may not be able to provide direct employment leads, but I'll do what I can. And while doing that, I can also provide moral support. A few years ago, friend T. was a spectator at the Boston Marathon. (She's now training for an Ironman next month.) A little girl on the side of the road held a sign that said, "Run."

Some 30 years ago, I wrote a poem. It's the only one of mine that I remember.
Keep laughing
or they'll have your heart for breakfast.
Keep laughing
or the leftovers'll yours for lunch.

So, carpe diem.

Dianne Williamson, a columnist for the Worcester Telegram, quotes a Fox news analyst as saying that Michael Jackson “dabbed tears from his nose.” 'Nuff said.

With the help of a bit software called ReplayRadio, I am recording Internet radio broadcasts and then listening to them on my iPod. I've had a favorite set of college radio shows, some from UMass-Amherst, some from a station in Los Altos Hills (near San Jose).

The North Pole is leaving Canada, heading for Russia at a brisk clip. Santa was seen listening to a set of Russian language tapes, brushing up on his ГО, ГО, ГО.

It's now Dr. Steven Tyler. And check out picture #14 while you're at it. (Thanks, Bill.)

In the What-are-they-thinking? Dept., why would Gatorade use the guitar riff from House of the Rising Sun in an ad about an Ironman event in Hawaii?

Of course, if you're in an Ironman, a marathon, or a half-marathon, you can listen to any music you darn well please. Cue the applause as Adam and Jennie prepare for their races on Sunday.

Happy Birthday, John.

"Less is only more where more is no good" - FLW

Sandra returned late Saturday night from her most excellent adventure to Fallingwater. She brought back great stories about the fascinating and quirky details that make up not only this architectural masterpiece, but also the genius behind it. Sandra also reports that Pennsylvania drivers obey the speed limits. We've heard of such things, but hadn't seen them in the wild.

A couple of days ago, my father tripped while carrying a gasoline can and pulled a muscle in his leg. The gasoline spilled all over him. He got home and washed his clothes. As the machine entered the rinse cycle, it stopped. He was left with a load of wet, soapy, almost-not-gasoline-soaked clothes. He is using an umbrella for cane. His friend, E., owns a funeral parlor and has a large selection of canes left by customers who didn't need them any more. We'll be doing my father's laundry and grocery shopping for a while.

Thanks to Adam, we now have an "As Seen on TV" remote motion detector at the camp. It, um, detects motion. It picks up activity within 20 feet or so, enough to detect a car or a person in the parking area and sends a signal to a noise-making unit in the camp. Equally importantl, it's quiet when it's supposed to be quiet.

I was cutting up some scrap wood with the table saw in the boathouse. The wood was just a bit too thick (2x6s) for the blade that was in the saw. The blade bound up and stopped. Brushing away the dust (saw and otherwise), I found the reset button, tried again, jammed it again, and then blew a fuse. My father has some other blades at his house, so this project is on hold for a week or so. I don't know the age of the saw, a Sears Craftsman. It was my grandfather's. The Old Gent, as my father called him, (Vaari, as I called him) mounted the on/off switch upside down on the saw frame. There was a good reason for it, I'm sure, probably like the reason that some gas fittings are reverse-threaded. (I'll rant about reverse-threading another time.)

Our neighbor was out raking the lake on Saturday afternoon. Pollen had settled in whorls and swirls on his shoreline, as it had done on ours. They were having company that evening. So, to ensure that the guests would have a good swimming experience, our neighbor was in the water with a leaf rake, moving the pollen into our little cove.

The local weekly paper prints a report of the calls that come into the police station. While TV news is dealing with issues such as African debt relief, the war in Iraq, and nuclear missles in North Korea, here's what's troubling folks in the Wachusett region:

• 911 report of ducklings in the sewer drain.
• Woman comes in to the police station at 3PM to report motorist driving erratically that morning.
• Skateboarder "with an attitude" at a local school.
• Radio interference.

Last week marked the 70th anniversary of the first public FM broadcast. My junior high school science teacher used to remind us that FM mean fine music, while AM meant average music. This would have been the time when FM played mostly classical music while the good stuff, rock and roll, was on the AM dial.

In the not-just-for-medical-professionals department, here are some clever, if not creepy gauze masks.

Fearful brown bottle! Its sting presages a scar -- a new lesson learned.

A morning in a quiet house. Sandra is on an adventure with a friend to visit Fallingwater, the house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, near Pittsburgh. They left early this morning to fly from Providence.

This morning's automatic search for a technical documentation job produced these:

• Biohazard Safety Manager - "Develop emergency response policies for spills and exposures to such chemical/radiological materials such as chemotherapeutic agents, isotopes and hazardous chemical materials."
• Maintenance & Sanitation Manager - Five (5) years supervisory experience in a nutraceutical / pharmaceutical manufacturing environment required. Must have experience working with equipment used in the manufacture, bottling and packaging of dietary supplements and powders.

The weather has been summer-like for the past couple of days, meaning that it's time to bring out the summer toys. If you build or borrow The Ultimate Water Gun (using an expended fire extinguisher, motorcycle helmet, and other sundry parts), you, too, could look like this.

Marley's having such a great time at the Island, going everywhere that Woody and Marian go, whether it's a walk down the lane, a ride into town, or stroll behind the self-propelled lawn mower. Our house is empty, just the two of us, for the first time in, like, ever. Sandra and I have talked a lot about getting another pet. There are rescue programs that need foster homes for various breeds of dog. (Dunno about cats.) In any case, if we do get another pet, it'll be a traditional on and not something such as Mike the Headless Chicken.

Buzzword Bingo (and its PG-13 cousin) have been around the business world for a while. Basically, you get a Bingo card with commonly-overused words and phrases. When you hear the word or phrase, you mark your card. When you have five marks in a row, you get to shout "Bingo." Tim Russert was the Class Day speaker at Harvard this week and delivered a speech that has a lot in common with other speeches he's given. Naturally, the best and brightest jumped into action and created Tim Russert Bingo.

My manager and I get along well. When he stops by my cube, usually unannounced, he always sees something interesting on my computer screen. Late yesterday afternoon, he saw an Emacs window full of Perl code. That I had no idea what I was doing and that the code wasn't working didn't come up in conversation.

On the ride home yesterday, I listened to samples from the Periodic Table of Haiku. It's not as good as The Elements by Tom Lehrer, but it was a good distraction from the wackiness of my fellow commuters.

How high the moon

Mornings are simpler by a couple of steps. With Marley off frolicking in the Great White North for the summer, I don't have to hurry to feed a hungry dog. And, finally, we don't need a fire in the wood stove. Mornings are simpler and simpler is good.

The early corn from Florida is starting to show up in the stores. Of course, it isn't as good as corn fresh from the field, but it's still pretty tasty. Boiling water on a steamy day isn't a good idea, so I tried cooking the corn in the microwave. The Betty Crocker cookbook is handy for many things, but not for microwave cooking. A quick Google search showed me that I should cook corn, in the husks, on full power for about a minute-and-a-half per ear. Once again, the Web proves to be the source of all that is good and wise.

I had a good chat with my manager yesterday afternoon. It started off as a discussion about the lack of a spell checker in the latest AOL Instant Messenger and led through lots of turns - nuclear submarines and Soviet space programs, networking (personal and systems) at Digital, MIT graduates as a breed apart, self-absorbed bloggers - and ended with his mentioning that he'd spoken favorably about me to his boss. There might be a permanent opening, but I'll keep my hopes in check.

Today marks a couple of events, one tragic and the other pleasant. In 1953 a tornado struck Worcester, killing 94 people. In 1915 Les Paul was born. I had played a Les Paul guitar once; it belonged to a friend in college. Sweet, smooth sound and action.

Hitting the market window, like a bird

The most common mispronunciation of our last name is Hakkarainian, making the name sound Armenian. Now, even my automated job searches are getting into the act.

Marian reports that Marley came upstairs at five yesterday morning and licked her face.

With the Red Sox doing the Curly Shuffle in St. Louis again last night, we watched a good show about Hawaii on Globe Trekker. At one point, a Hawaiian girl was helping host Megan McCormick gather wild flowers for a lei. As a part of a deeply traditional and spiritual ritual, Megan would bring the lei as a gift to the people hosting a luau. The girl was collecting the flowers in a Wal-Mart plastic bag.

And, in other world news, Hindus marry toads, hope for rain.

I don't know why the U.S. Customs folks let this guy in the country, but I'm pretty sure I know why Canada didn't want him: Man with what appeared to be a bloody chain saw let into U.S. - Crime & Punishment - MSNBC.com

Fight ageism by looking younger, this guy says. I really hope that it's a joke. "Guys, don't forget about your moustache. Generally, it looks best if you color your hair your original color." "A good face lift makes you look 10 years younger and lasts a long time." And women should fight sexism how? And people of color should fight racism how? And if you're short, well, you could try various stretching techniques.

Today is a very special day in Dilbert's life. It's the birthday of Scott Adams. (Today's title is from a Dilbert strip.)

Science projects

With just the two of us at home now, leftovers in the refrigerator are more likely to wind up as little bags and dishes of "What's This?" It might be simpler to put the food straight into the dishwasher and eat from there.

At yesterday's doctor's appointment, we decided to change some medications, eliminating one product and returning to another that I'd used a couple of years ago. The side effects are riskier, but the stuff worked well. It's also expensive, with a month's supply more than $250. Thank goodness for insurance.

After hearing a radio interview with Dr. Peter Kramer, I ordered and have started reading his new book, Against Depression. I'm not far enough along to have a real opinion about the book yet. Among his key points is that depression is no more ennobling than myopia or shingles. I'll have more comments about the book as I move through it.

And with the Red Sox playing the way that they are, I'm going to have more time for reading. The Sox are in St. Louis, scene of last year's glorious victory. Last night's game was, well, all too common. I have family in the St. Louis area, my father's brother's family. I hope that they're enjoying the series.

Let me see if I've got this right. Citigroup sends millions of customer records on an unencrypted tape via UPS. Why not just send blank checks to the bad guys and cut out the middleman?

Pulling the start cord on the lawnmower of life

Adam, Jennie, and Lily came for a visit, dinner, and sauna at the camp on Saturday. I cooked some steaks on the outside grill and they came out well. Adam's helping us with the installation of the new gas cooktop. I got tired just thinking about his day on Saturday. He worked the overnight shift, ran 15 miles after work, slept for a few hours, and drove to see us. We made sure that he had an extra cup of coffee for the ride home.

In two weeks, they will have completed their fund-raising race. Adam's slated to run a marathon, Jennie a half-marathon, as a fund-raiser for stroke research.

My father and his friends built a massive stone fireplace at the camp. The mortar was mixed by a long-time friend, a fellow who still visits my father for sauna every few weeks. (The friend is up in Hudson's Bay this week, visiting with the Cree Indians.) Anyway, this friend was new to mixing mortar. As a result, little white flakes and chunks have been falling off the fireplace for 60 years. My father grumbles about it, good-naturedly, mostly. When we are cleaning up, we mutter this guy's name. We're passing the info along to Mike and Adam, so the next generations can continue the grumbling.

The hydrangea that Sandra planted by the boathouse is coming back. The small hemlocks along the paths have fresh green tips of new growth. Sandra found another trillium in the woods. She reports that the ground is very wet, even a couple of hundred feet from the water's edge.

We met with the contractor about putting a road from our parking area to the back of the camp. He gave us can of orange spray paint which we used to mark the trees that we wanted cut down. It'll be both exhilarating and saddening to have the trees come down, opening us to much more sunlight. We didn't keep count, but it may be three or four dozen trees that are slated to come down. They're tall trees in many cases, near power lines or the camp. It's work that's best donw by professionals.

Saturday was calm. (Or, as they say in PEI, "Cam, dear.") We had a canoe ride, gliding smoothly through the pollen that coat the water in the cove. There were several boats on the lake, including Elden and my father. The sun was strong and warm.

Screwdrivers have legs and bad homing instincts. Afer the the lawn mover would start, I wanted to remove the air filter and open up the butterfly valve a bit. No flathead screwdriver. Fortunately I had my Swiss army knife. Even more fortunately, my father showed up so I didn't have time to do the mowing. Next week, for sure.

So, my father, who reminds us that when he was a kid, commercial radio didn't exist, is thinking of giving up his landline phone for a cell phone. We have a few more details to resolve, including the setup of his voice mail. It could be a very good idea, saving him $20-$30 per month. Or, it could be something else.

After all that tumult of the weekend, it's easy to forget that it's time to go back to work. I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon. I'm ready, as are those around me who've been patient andkind Knowing what's not working doesn't automatically translate into knowing what does.

It was the third of June ...

It would be an interesting way to consume precious hours of life to collect a list of song that have dates featured in them. Today's selection is that sultry Sixties classic, Ode to Billie Jo. The only other song phrase that comes to mind right away is "the first of December was covered with snow," from James Taylor's Sweet Baby James.

When I was growing up, we had boxes of Finnish folk songs on dusty 78s. I used the rest of the records for target practice with my BB gun. Of course, everything old is new again. Now you can download MP3 versions of venerable tunes such as Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag, He'd Have to Get Under - Get Out and Get Under (to Fix Up His Automobile), and Yes! We Have No Bananas.

The BBC is playing the complete works of Beethoven and making those performances available for download.

Before the iPod, before the Walkman, I had a pocket transistor radio. This would have been in the early 60s, when Japanese radios were still something of a novelty. My radio had an earphone. So, much as I do now, I would walk along with the earphone in place, listening to music. Such a small radio couldn't reliably pick up WMEX in Boston, so I'd listen to WORC in Worcester. (At night the whole eastern U.S. was in range.) When I was wearing a jacket or long-sleeved shirt, I could run the earphone cord down my arm and then lean my head against my hand. I was once more in a world of my own.

One time I was walking through South Gardner. A woman stopped me and said, "Oh, you poor boy, needing a hearing aid at your age." When I tried to explain that it was a radio, she walked away quickly, apparently not liking having her sympathy rejected.

How much is 10% of someone else's income?

Showing that you can get someone to pay you to do almost anything, blogging is becoming a paid position at many companies.

Or, you could just buy 10% of someone's income.

As Marley runs through the acres (hectares) of fields and woods along the shore line, I hope he gives thought to the other dogs who are struggling to get into doggie day care.

"Don't make me get the Portable Time-Out Mat!"

The guys from QE will throw out the first pitch at Fenway Park this coming Sunday. Maybe they can stay and help with the pitching for the rest of the game. True to their DNA, the Red Sox have had spectacularly uneven pitching this season. Tim Wakefield's 9-3 loss last night is a classic example. Knuckle balls that don't knuckle are heading for Lansdowne Street.

Hitting has been the strength of the Red Sox for the last 50-60 years. Not pitching, although there have been some greats. Luis Tiant, of course, with his twisting delivery that had him looking into center field before the pitch. Bill Lee, who'd throw 75 junk pitches in a complete game. Clemens, a first-ballot Hall-of-Famer but with the attitude of a teenage hood. Jim Lonborg, Bill Monbouquette, Dick Radatz. Defense could be, um, interesting, with Dick Stuart, aka 'Dr. Stranglove' aka 'Clank,' and Don Buddin, for whom his teammates made a special license plate 'E-4.'

Those who care probably don't need to be told, but Krispy Kreme is giving away a donut to each visit tomorrow (3 June).

There were people at the college reunion weekend who used avuncular and schadenfreude as though they were real words.

Sandra has brought in sweet-smelling flowers from our yard - Purple Flag Iris and Lily of the Valley. The year that we were married, Sandra's mother was concerned that the lilacs wouldn't stay in bloom until the wedding; they just barely made it. This year, with the much colder May, the lilacs are still colorful and fragrant.

Happy Birthday, Lori.

Sans Chien

We'll get used to it in a while and the time will pass quickly. We'll get used to not stopping on the hill so that we can let Marley run up the camp road. We'll get used eating a whole orange by ourselves. We'll get used to leaving shoes on the hearth and having them still there in the morning.

Sandra's parents reported that Marley went upstairs and all around the house after Sandra and Mike left early on Sunday morning. By then Marley had already had two baths. At the corner of the French Road, there's some mud along the Mitchell River. It's not just ordinary mud, though; it's mud with something dead in it. We're thinking of getting one of those car deodorizers and hanging it on his collar.

On Tuesday he had a ride with Woody and Marian to the Post Office in downtown Cardigan.

Mike and Sandra made excellent time, 10:15, on their return trip. The weather was good and the border crossing quick. It was a good chance for them to talk. When Sandra returned home, she said, "Karl, I'm a metric." After some fiddling with the buttons on the dashboard of her car, we figured out how to change the odometer, thermometer, and other ometers back to English measurements. It was fun to have different adventures and even better to be back home together.

I talked with quite a few people during my college's reunion weekend and hear a lot of anxiety. A lot of very successful people have graduated from there, successful in business, law, medicine, academia, and the performing arts, so it's easy to fall in the trap of comparing performance. Still, it was gratifying to look around the parking lot and see Hondas, Subarus, and Tauruses (Tauri?), to see that the Hyundais outnumbered the Porsches. These were people returning because they'd had a good time in college and wanted to reconnect with friends, faculty, and the campus.

On the ride there, I passed through different words, from Support Our Troops yellow magnetic ribbons on the backs of cars and trucks to Free Tibet bumper stickers. I passed signs that said "I buy houses" in hand-lettering. "No Title 5. No problem." Another place offered used cars and/or sanitation services.

Mount Wachusett still has a few patches of snow and wild turkeys slow traffic on the mountain road.

We bought a new new phone recently. Inside the instruction booklet was a slip of paper, "Need Help? Call Toll Free. 1(800)nnn-nnnn."

just me and my radio

On days such as these, the Fats Waller tune Ain't Misbehavin' is on the radio in my head.

The travelers arrived in good order, slowed somewhat by the heavy rain in Maine that falls mainly on Meddybemps. I tried to watch them cross the bridge, but the network folks at work appear to be blocking video streams. Too bad. Mike reported that Marley had his head out the window, jowls flapping in the wind.

It's been difficult keeping enough dry wood in the house. We put the wood hoop away last month and bring in just a little as we need it. Well, we've needed a lot.

Job listing of the day: Vibration Technician, "using electro-dynamic and electro-hydraulic shakers."

There are some people who believe that the patent process is out of control and is stifling creativity and thus inhibiting further product development for the good of all people. In other realms, patent production is rewarded. IBM bestows the title of Master Inventor for people who have received something like 15 patents. In both cases, the folks are living out the principle articulated in Robots: "See a need. Fill a need." (BTW, patents expire after a fixed time.)

When we're at the camp, we're at the edge of cell phone service. Further, the large stone fireplace further dulls the signal. All the while, the little phone is chugging away, trying to put up as many bars at it can, usually between one and none. (Reception is a bit better on the porch.) The battery drains very quickly. See a need. Fill a need, indeed.

If an apple a day keeps the doctor away, then some apples might keep the neurologist, cardiologist, and oncologist away, as well as the GP. Canadian researchers report that Red Delicious and Northern Spy have the most antioxidants. I'm not a great fan of these apples, mainly because they get a bit mealy when kept in storage. I'm enjoying Cameo apples now (not part of the study). They're crisp and a bit tart.

The only thing worse than a wet dog ...

... is a wet dog that's gone. Marley was quite wet when he came in from his early morning visit to the back yard. before he and Sandra left at 4:30 to pick up Mike and head on to the day of travel.

So, Marley's on his way to summer camp. He'll have a good time, chasing the herons on the beach, chasing the whatevers in the fields and woods, absconding with Woody's glasses case. He'll be good company for Woody and Marian and they for him.

How many dogs do you know who ike balsamic vinaigrette?

As I write, the travelers are on the Maine Turnpike. Sandra will call me when they get to the Confederation Bridge. There's a chance that I might get to see them as they travel o'er.

Earlier this week, Prince Edward Island decided, in a move that was both tragic and milk-through-the-nose funny, to reduce the hours of its suicide hotline to regular business hours - 9-5, Monday through Friday. (Dunno about holidays.) "We care. Leave a message." Anyway, the province has relented and restored 24-hour coverage.

For me, today is just a day at work. I'll work from home tomorrow morning and then tend to some things at my college's reunion weekend tomorrow and Saturday afternoon. Tomorrow night I'll stay at home, Saturday night at the camp. It sounds like a busy time, hard to believe as I sit in a house that's very, very quiet.

O, Mr. Noah. O, Mr. Noah

Rain with widespread drizzle... Patchy fog...Rain with widespread drizzle... Patchy fog... Rain... Patchy fog and widespread drizzle in the morning... Cloudy with a 50 percent chance of rain... Mostly cloudy with a 50 percent chance of showers... Mostly cloudy... A chance of showers and thunderstorms... Patchy fog after midnight... , so sayeth the National Weather Service for the next four days.

The weather is taking charge of most conversations. Each of the local shows includes a substantial segment about this stretch of cold, rainy, and often windy weather. The weather on the Island hasn't been much better. It's good weather to work in a cubicle far from any windows.

I received an email from a recruiter who has a job lead. I'm pleased and grateful, but think that I'll not pursue it. There are a few key words and phrases in the job description (pre-IPO, fast-paced, aggressive) that suggest a lot of long hours, in addition to the longer commute. Time was, and not long ago, I'd jump at this opportunity. I'm not jumping. Sometime maybe, but not now.

It's important to make sure that what you say/write is what you mean.

Years ago I worked for a manager who said that, when she had an important presentation to make, she'd wear a red slip. She felt more confident, no matter who was in the audience. She was a proper lady, given to wearing gray wool suits. Anyway, here's the science.

Sandra has done a great job clearing the leaves, dead hemlock needles, and fallen branches from around the camp. The place looks great. During the clean-up we'd hear neighbors on other parts of the lake using leaf blowers. It was hard work, but manual raking does a better job. If we really wanted to bring tools into the picture, how would one of these do? As I told Sandra when I was climbing through the trap door into the cellar, "Dial 9-1 and wait."

Happy Birthday, Barbara.

So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late.

Springtime in New England can be cold and damp and dreary. Thank goodness it's so short.

We have a nice fire in the stove this morning. The weather forecast calls for a nor'easter with cold rain, strong winds, and coastal flooding.

A couple of quick Bob Dylan (article contains PG-13 language) notes on this, his birthday. In high school I brought a guitar to school and sang and played a few Dylan songs. "You even sound like him," said a classmate and I don't think she meant it in a good way. A few years later, my friend Ken and I were amazed at the transformation when Dylan released John Wesley Harding, his first album after the motorcycle accident. It was country music, but like no other. If I had to pick one album, it would be Blood on the Tracks, but just about every tune has a memory. I'm pretty sure that Mike Bloomfield was playing a Les Paul on Highway 61 Revisited, but he did also play a Telecaster during that time.

My father describes the guys he worked with as having size 20 necks and size 2 hats. We can't all be that strong, but we can fake it. Want to be able to do this? Here's how.

"Oh, you're being sarcastic," said Krista, sarcastically. Here's the science.

We watched The Apprentice, seasons two and three. I'm not quite sure why we were attracted to the show. Maybe it was just a good chance to yell at the TV every week. We picked Tana for this past season, but agreed that she really tanked in the final contest. Here's a bit of what happens on the Island of Unwanted Apprentices.

High school girls around the country, even those without dates, are grateful that they aren't going to the prom in Vermont.

broken pieces of plastic, two CDs, and half a zucchini.

It was 40° when we woke at the camp on Sunday morning. Outside, the black flies and now mosquitoes were still a problem, but their flying was made more clumsy by the little down vests that they had to wear. Sandra worked hard to rake away the leaves and fallen branches, making the camp look fresh and open, even if the skies were gray and damp.

When my father arrived for coffee at the camp on Saturday, the first thing he said was, "What are going to do with this boat?" He's talked about selling the sail boat and about keeping it to see if anyone of us is interested (and able). The boat isn't really in the way. Its biggest problem is that it's a reminder to him.

Mike and Lynn invited us to their house for spaghetti yesterday evening. Mike had returned with the older kids from a rainy camping trip in Maine. We had a fine and fun time, seeing Tess's collection of shells, hearing Krista practice her piano recital piece, watch Michael Francis demonstrate their new weight-lifting set.

The visibility is bad at the intersection where the accident took place. Tragically, a 13-year-old girl died in the crash. Few other details about the crash were released, but that didn't stop the reporter.

A utility pole guy wire off the southbound side of Route 68 was smashed, and there were a lot of tire tracks and footprints in the sand there, along with broken pieces of plastic, two CDs, and half a zucchini.

There were no roadside memorials to the girl late yesterday afternoon.

Few houses are near the intersection.

The for-sale sign is gone at our neighbor's house. When last we heard, there were several offers, including a couple at-price, on the first day.

A job that sounds innocent-enough, Correspondence Coordinator in an HMO, includes the following duties: Maintains a copy of the current denial process and templates; Maintains an accurate log of all denial letters; Produces all denial letters. If they do a good job denying services, their profits can go through the roof.

We had a good discussion at Mike and Lynn's about the role of denial in helping to keep us going when dealing with chronic illnesses. Some might call it denial, others resignation, still others acceptance. The point being, you have to acknowledge the presence of the illness and, simultaneously, get on with life.

My energy in all areas has been quite uneven, leaving me low and not a lot of fun, notably on the weekends. Sandra sees the most of it. My spirits have been ok, which is encouraging. Depression is one of those illnesses that can rob you of the ability to do the things that you need to do to get better. I have a doctor's appointment in a couple of weeks.

The Day After 'Tek's Day

Jason Varitek has homered on the last five May 20ths.

We had a quiet celebration of our anniversary. We exchanged some cute cards. (Sandra and I don't give each other gifts for holidays such as anniversaries, birthdays, or Christmas.) We had an early dinner at a nearby restaurant that wasn't as good as we'd remembered it. Back home for a couple of our favorite TV shows - Greater Boston and Washington Week, and a movie. It sounds like a quiet evening and it was. It was also a fun evening. We enjoy each other's company.

The weather forecasts are drifting between rain and not rain. We'll go to the camp anyway. We have several things to bring there and look forward to sauna again.

This will also be Marley's last weekend at the camp for a while. He's going to summer camp at PEI. When Sandra and Mike go to the Island, they'll leave Marley with Woody and Marian. They're excited about having him there. It's a great wide space where he can run. The property is on the ocean, so he can play in and around the water's edge. It will be a good adventure. Sandra and I will miss him. He and her parents are great friends.

Let me see if I've got this straight. A country, bordering Israel, still not recognizing Israel, in fact, seeks to limit nuclear inspections because they say they don't have nuclear materials, much. Oh, wait, I forgot. It's Prince Bandar's country we're talking about. Never mind.

[I let a note slip earlier. The longish explanation is that the key strokes that I use to add a link - Ctrl-Shift-A - can slip into Ctrl-S, which means Send. I'm sorry for the confusion.]

A spring in our steps

It looks like I've solved the programming problem that had been vexing me for several days. I need to run a couple rounds of more rigorous tests, but I think that I've got it.

With the proliferation of just about everything electrical, this could be really handy - electrical outlets that rotate.

There were 15 people in the room, beginning the second of two two-hour meetings yesterday. Amid the chatter, I heard one of the writers say to her friends across the table, "Do my lips look shiny? I plan to use them this weekend."

In these fractious times, it's good to see that wiser minds can develop a spirit of compromise for the benefit of us all.

If Dilbert needed to seek out a saint, who better than ....

Yesterday I learned that the requistions for permant jobs have been frozen at the place where I work. As a result, no permanent jobs will be opening up anytime soon. That doesn't affect my contract.

Today's automated technical documentation search results: U.S. Sanctions Advisor - reports to the [company] Anti-Money Laundering (AML) Officer. Perform research, analysis, and coordination necessary to support Anti-Money Laundering Officer responses to any regulatory or enforcement inquiries concerning compliance by any [company] entity with U.S. sanctions, 314(a) information sharing, special measures, or the Travel Rule.... Consult with government authorities, including prosecutors, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Department of Homeland Security, U.S. Treasury, and other agencies concerning possible and verified customer matches to 314(a) subjects in terrorist financing and money laundering investigations.

Happy Anniversary, Sandra. We've still got it.