While the installer from the phone company is stringing a phone line across a mosquito-laden swamp, the guy from the heating company is making the final connections on our gas range, and my father is learning how to set up voice dialing on his new cell phone, I'll be trying to get something that looks like a day's worth of work at the camp. Think it'll happen? Me neither.
This week we learned that lightning hit a tree in a neighbor's yard at the lake. This is the second strike in a few years. I'm not glad it's them, but I'm glad it's not us, too. One time we were expecting company at the camp. My mother had laid out the food on a table in the middle of the room. Lightning blew out a lighting fixture overhead, exploding the light bulbs and spraying the food with broken glass. We liked the people who were coming to visit, so we threw the food away.
The camp is at the edge of what was, a 100 years ago, a farm. There are still pieces of barbed wire along the back edge of the property. Lightning hit a tree, travel down toward the ground, jumped on the barbed wire, ran the length of the wire and knocked some boards off of the back of the sauna.
In Massachusetts, you have Cambridge and Amherst. In California, you have Berkeley. Coloradans, jumping up and down to catch the attention of coast-to-coast flights, shout out, "Hey, you want loopy. We got loopy right here." Hofu, human-flesh-flavored tofu.
Happy 1st birthday, Russell.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Would Kerouac have a Support the Troops magnet?
I was standing at the counter at the Verizon store in the mall, buying a new cell phone for my father and getting a free upgrade for myself. The young man next to me at the counter, holding half of a phone, asks the sales person, "Can you check again? I know had insurance on this."
Yesterday I found a solution to a scripting problem that had vexed me for more than a week. For those of you who care about such things, it had to do with handling very long pathnames in Windows. The problem had been blocking me from taking care of several other things, so I'm looking forward to visiting my to-do list anew. Tomorrow I'm going to work from the camp. We're having a phone line installed, but I expect to be working offline most of the time. I've signed up for a free NetZero account. We will get Internet access for 10 hours per month and will experience some ads.
We (I) often play the "What if" game. What if I had tried something different for supper instead of the old tried-and-true? What if I took that job last year where I'd be writing process documents for the pharmaceutical companies? It plays out on larger scales as well. People like to ask Peter Kramer, "What if van Gogh had had Prozac?" On yesterday's The Connection, the host and guests wondered what if Allen Ginsberg was releasing Howl now? Where would he shill the book? Jerry Springer? The Daily Show? Howard Stern on Sirius? "... who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish, ..."
Musicians aren't like the rest of us. Here's the science.
The BBC is running this story about a big table and chair. Little do they know that Gardner has big chairs, too. I used to pick up the newspapers for my delivery route just to the left of this chair.
A couple of studies are showing that insomnia, more than just a side effect of depression, often precedes and may even trigger depressive episodes.
Yesterday I found a solution to a scripting problem that had vexed me for more than a week. For those of you who care about such things, it had to do with handling very long pathnames in Windows. The problem had been blocking me from taking care of several other things, so I'm looking forward to visiting my to-do list anew. Tomorrow I'm going to work from the camp. We're having a phone line installed, but I expect to be working offline most of the time. I've signed up for a free NetZero account. We will get Internet access for 10 hours per month and will experience some ads.
We (I) often play the "What if" game. What if I had tried something different for supper instead of the old tried-and-true? What if I took that job last year where I'd be writing process documents for the pharmaceutical companies? It plays out on larger scales as well. People like to ask Peter Kramer, "What if van Gogh had had Prozac?" On yesterday's The Connection, the host and guests wondered what if Allen Ginsberg was releasing Howl now? Where would he shill the book? Jerry Springer? The Daily Show? Howard Stern on Sirius? "... who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish, ..."
Musicians aren't like the rest of us. Here's the science.
The BBC is running this story about a big table and chair. Little do they know that Gardner has big chairs, too. I used to pick up the newspapers for my delivery route just to the left of this chair.
A couple of studies are showing that insomnia, more than just a side effect of depression, often precedes and may even trigger depressive episodes.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Eye to eye with a dragon fly
It's like there's a slit in a sack of bird seeds. A little leaks out and then more as the slit widens. Sometimes you can stop and repair it in position. Sometimes you have to lie it on its side to slow the out-going rush so you can make repairs. Depending on where the breach is, it can be difficult or easy stop the leak, repair it, and replenish the bag. I came home from work mid-day yesterday and lay down for a couple hours. I feel better, with only a slight case of overwrought similes as a side effect.
In an effort to recover the tough afternoon, I stacked wood for nearly an hour. It was warm, verging on hot, but there was a comfortable breeze and the work was mostly in the shade. A dragonfly followed me around like a pet. As best as I can determine, it was a unicorn clubtail.
Adam called late in the afternoon, reporting on their trip. He and Jennie raised money for stroke research (runners raised more than $3M total), completed their races, and brought back stories of strength and courage. We're very proud of them. Prices for Wyeth, the makers of Advil, (WYE, NYSE) peaked Monday morning and fell back.
A few weeks ago, I mentioned here that I'd had a BB gun as a kid. That surprised Adam. We never had guns around when he was growing up. But, as much as I could be, I tried to be a normal kid. I even went through that shoplifting phase in junior high school. While other kids were boosting clothes, candy, toys, and canoes (yep), I took books.
Silvio Berlusconi went to Finland and complained about the food. Pickled herring, beets, and turnip?
OK, it can stop now. I have had songs from the Anne of Green Gables soundtrack in my head since our return trip to Northampton on Sunday evening. It's nice enough music, once a year, maybe once every two years.
G'bye, Lucky. He was Adam, Jennie, and Lily's cat and passed away on Monday from renal failure.
In an effort to recover the tough afternoon, I stacked wood for nearly an hour. It was warm, verging on hot, but there was a comfortable breeze and the work was mostly in the shade. A dragonfly followed me around like a pet. As best as I can determine, it was a unicorn clubtail.
Adam called late in the afternoon, reporting on their trip. He and Jennie raised money for stroke research (runners raised more than $3M total), completed their races, and brought back stories of strength and courage. We're very proud of them. Prices for Wyeth, the makers of Advil, (WYE, NYSE) peaked Monday morning and fell back.
A few weeks ago, I mentioned here that I'd had a BB gun as a kid. That surprised Adam. We never had guns around when he was growing up. But, as much as I could be, I tried to be a normal kid. I even went through that shoplifting phase in junior high school. While other kids were boosting clothes, candy, toys, and canoes (yep), I took books.
Silvio Berlusconi went to Finland and complained about the food. Pickled herring, beets, and turnip?
OK, it can stop now. I have had songs from the Anne of Green Gables soundtrack in my head since our return trip to Northampton on Sunday evening. It's nice enough music, once a year, maybe once every two years.
G'bye, Lucky. He was Adam, Jennie, and Lily's cat and passed away on Monday from renal failure.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
you're going to rise up singing
The measure of a good song is in the fruit it bears. So it is with Gershwin's Summertime. The operatic original, the aching blues from Janis Joplin, the deep spirituality from John Coltrane, the rolicking licks from Alvin Lee, and the many, many others.
Astronomical summer began at 2:46AM (EDT). Meteorologists begin their summers at the start of June; September, by their reckoning, is an autumn month. Some in Europe start even earlier, in May, when the sun is already high and the days are long. Finns celebrate Juhannus, St. John's Day, during this time. Like Christmas, it's less a religious observance and more an excuse for a party. Can you have a party that goes all night long when there is no night? We didn't serve alcohol at our house, so I didn't see the drunken revels while I was growing up or didn't recognize it when I did. There would be plenty of that later.
The cool, wet spring has delayed lots of plants. The mountain laurel will be at its pink-and-white peak this weekend.
Because of a slight mixup, we received a bill for our newspaper subscription. The bill is for 34¢ and is stamped Final Notice.
No time to brew coffee? Well, here are two ways to get your daily dose - in the shower and on the tongue.
I'm sure that they laughed at Leonardo da Vinci, Robert Fulton, and Rudolph Diesel, but that doesn't stop us from at least smiling at these guys. It's all part of the Museum of Retro Technology.
Welcome home, Adam and Jennie.
Astronomical summer began at 2:46AM (EDT). Meteorologists begin their summers at the start of June; September, by their reckoning, is an autumn month. Some in Europe start even earlier, in May, when the sun is already high and the days are long. Finns celebrate Juhannus, St. John's Day, during this time. Like Christmas, it's less a religious observance and more an excuse for a party. Can you have a party that goes all night long when there is no night? We didn't serve alcohol at our house, so I didn't see the drunken revels while I was growing up or didn't recognize it when I did. There would be plenty of that later.
The cool, wet spring has delayed lots of plants. The mountain laurel will be at its pink-and-white peak this weekend.
Because of a slight mixup, we received a bill for our newspaper subscription. The bill is for 34¢ and is stamped Final Notice.
No time to brew coffee? Well, here are two ways to get your daily dose - in the shower and on the tongue.
I'm sure that they laughed at Leonardo da Vinci, Robert Fulton, and Rudolph Diesel, but that doesn't stop us from at least smiling at these guys. It's all part of the Museum of Retro Technology.
Welcome home, Adam and Jennie.
Monday, June 20, 2005
What is so rare as a pixel in June?
Once again, the temperature is in the 40s so we need a small fire in the wood stove. Last evening's air was clear and dry and you could see far away places. We drove Lily home in the bright light of the setting sun. The trees are a deep green now. The shadows at dusk highlight the color. Many years ago Zenith touted their new TV that had each pixel set on a black background that made each color more vivid. One of the songs on the Anne of Green Gables soundtrack proclaims that our best learning comes through the close inspection of nature. So, look closely at a rare June evening in the Connecticut River Valley and you, too, might appreciate the technology of the last American-made TV set.
It's been that kind of weekend, delights tumbling over one another. Lily is a joy, sharp, confident, loving, and, as Jennie's mother, Diane, observed, willing. When it was time to play, Lily splashed in the water or made art. When it was time to work, she happily carried bags of stuff from the car to the camp or wielded our vacuum cleaner as needed. And, just when you both need it, she'll hop on your lap and lean her head against your shoulder.
From Mike and Lynn on Father's Day I received a gift certificate at a local store and, most precious of all, a framed picture collection of all seven grandchildren. Adam and Jennie have given me trees which we'll plant in the fall. Lynn bought Mike a popup trailer that can sleep the whole family. They had breakfast in the trailer on Sunday morning.
My father is still unsteady and uses his father's umbrella (!) as his cane. He looks thin and often tired. When I gave him his gift and shook his hand, though, I found that his grip is still strong.
On Friday we had the camp's septic tank pumped for the first time since Nixon was president. Lily officially pronounced the open tank as gross, but the nice man who runs the sanitation service said that all is in good working order. Our next task, one that would have been heretical just a short time ago, is that we will have a landline phone installed at the camp. Sandra was unable to complete several calls because the cell phone reception was so uneven. Sandra and I haven't discussed it yet, but a landline phone also makes way for Internet access.
Lily, Sandra, and I went for a canoe ride on Saturday morning. We visited with Carole, a year-round resident who wrote a history of the lake a few years ago. The cover of the book included a picture of my father sailing his boat. We continued our inspection of the lake, greeting the campers who were out, waving to the creepy guy with a mullet who was having beer for breakfast. Lo, a For Sale sign was visible on the dock of one small camp. This hardly ever happens. We had neither pencil nor pen, so we divided the memory task, each of us taking a part of the phone number to remember until we could get back to the camp. My part was the area code, 941, a Florida number.
The camp, we learned, was for sale for $250,000, down from $300,000. It had been owned by the former longest resident on the lake; he'd passed away a few months ago. Basically, it was two teardowns on a quarter acre. We talked with the seller last night and learned that they'd had an offer.
We returned to Holden to bring Lily to Mike and Lynn's for an overnight stay. Sandra and I weren't quite ready for a quiet camp yet, so we went out on the town in Gardner. We stopped in at what was billed as a Gospel Bluegrass Jam at a local church - four people playing out-of-tune banjos and singing out-of-tune with the banjos and each other. We slipped in quietly and slipped out again, leaving our donation in the can by the door. We had dinner at a surprisingly good Mexican restaurant and then drove around a bit. We drove past the three-decker that my grandparents owned. Where families from Finland, Poland, and New Brunswick once lived, we now see black and brown and yellow skins. We rode back to the camp through Otter River. We'd had such a good meal that we didn't need to stop at Lee's Hot Dog Stand in Baldwinville. Downtown Phillipston was dark and quiet.
We were up past 10PM for three nights of four. I can't say that our managers will get their full measure of our work today, but we'll make good.
It's been that kind of weekend, delights tumbling over one another. Lily is a joy, sharp, confident, loving, and, as Jennie's mother, Diane, observed, willing. When it was time to play, Lily splashed in the water or made art. When it was time to work, she happily carried bags of stuff from the car to the camp or wielded our vacuum cleaner as needed. And, just when you both need it, she'll hop on your lap and lean her head against your shoulder.
From Mike and Lynn on Father's Day I received a gift certificate at a local store and, most precious of all, a framed picture collection of all seven grandchildren. Adam and Jennie have given me trees which we'll plant in the fall. Lynn bought Mike a popup trailer that can sleep the whole family. They had breakfast in the trailer on Sunday morning.
My father is still unsteady and uses his father's umbrella (!) as his cane. He looks thin and often tired. When I gave him his gift and shook his hand, though, I found that his grip is still strong.
On Friday we had the camp's septic tank pumped for the first time since Nixon was president. Lily officially pronounced the open tank as gross, but the nice man who runs the sanitation service said that all is in good working order. Our next task, one that would have been heretical just a short time ago, is that we will have a landline phone installed at the camp. Sandra was unable to complete several calls because the cell phone reception was so uneven. Sandra and I haven't discussed it yet, but a landline phone also makes way for Internet access.
Lily, Sandra, and I went for a canoe ride on Saturday morning. We visited with Carole, a year-round resident who wrote a history of the lake a few years ago. The cover of the book included a picture of my father sailing his boat. We continued our inspection of the lake, greeting the campers who were out, waving to the creepy guy with a mullet who was having beer for breakfast. Lo, a For Sale sign was visible on the dock of one small camp. This hardly ever happens. We had neither pencil nor pen, so we divided the memory task, each of us taking a part of the phone number to remember until we could get back to the camp. My part was the area code, 941, a Florida number.
The camp, we learned, was for sale for $250,000, down from $300,000. It had been owned by the former longest resident on the lake; he'd passed away a few months ago. Basically, it was two teardowns on a quarter acre. We talked with the seller last night and learned that they'd had an offer.
We returned to Holden to bring Lily to Mike and Lynn's for an overnight stay. Sandra and I weren't quite ready for a quiet camp yet, so we went out on the town in Gardner. We stopped in at what was billed as a Gospel Bluegrass Jam at a local church - four people playing out-of-tune banjos and singing out-of-tune with the banjos and each other. We slipped in quietly and slipped out again, leaving our donation in the can by the door. We had dinner at a surprisingly good Mexican restaurant and then drove around a bit. We drove past the three-decker that my grandparents owned. Where families from Finland, Poland, and New Brunswick once lived, we now see black and brown and yellow skins. We rode back to the camp through Otter River. We'd had such a good meal that we didn't need to stop at Lee's Hot Dog Stand in Baldwinville. Downtown Phillipston was dark and quiet.
We were up past 10PM for three nights of four. I can't say that our managers will get their full measure of our work today, but we'll make good.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Honey, I'm going to mow the picnic table
We drove to and from Florence to pick up Lily and bring her to our house for the night. It was stormy with thunder, lightning, and heavy rain. Occasionally, the rain would lessen and we could see the tops of the hills clipped by clouds. The travel was often treacherous, particularly as we went through Worcester where the highway is narrowed by construction work. Remember, this is Massachusetts when, even in good weather, lane markings, breakdown lanes, stop lights, turn signals, and speed limits are pretty much just suggestions for other people. So, we had scary moments with trucks to our right, Jersey barriers to our left, and lots of water above, below, and in between.
But we arrived home safely around 10PM and got Lily safely home into our guest room. The house was cool.
At breakfast we gathered at the table by the window and marveled at the lushness of the yard. During the winter we sprinkle bird seed on a picnic table on the back deck, in addition to the seed in the feeders. A few seeds, stuck in table top, have sprouted. If the rains continue, we'll have this soon.
Lily is confident and article, so much so that I'm likely to forget that she is still five. On the way home, we were talking about what we'd have for breakfast. "Mac and cheese?" I asked. I think she took me seriously, or maybe she was just bringing the joke back to me. While I was getting the cereal on the table, she brought me a box of Mac and cheese.
And now, I'm at work. This is a blog about work. This day will go quickly as I try to get my various projects into a known state by day's end - knowing what I know and knowing what I don't know. It was explained to me that there are four stages of wisdom, in descending order:
But we arrived home safely around 10PM and got Lily safely home into our guest room. The house was cool.
At breakfast we gathered at the table by the window and marveled at the lushness of the yard. During the winter we sprinkle bird seed on a picnic table on the back deck, in addition to the seed in the feeders. A few seeds, stuck in table top, have sprouted. If the rains continue, we'll have this soon.
Lily is confident and article, so much so that I'm likely to forget that she is still five. On the way home, we were talking about what we'd have for breakfast. "Mac and cheese?" I asked. I think she took me seriously, or maybe she was just bringing the joke back to me. While I was getting the cereal on the table, she brought me a box of Mac and cheese.
And now, I'm at work. This is a blog about work. This day will go quickly as I try to get my various projects into a known state by day's end - knowing what I know and knowing what I don't know. It was explained to me that there are four stages of wisdom, in descending order:
- Knowing
- Knowing what I don't know
- Knowing what I know
- Not knowing what I don't know
There are variants on that, theories of complex systems and such. For another day, though. I need to get to work.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
A night of music
On Tuesday we had the air conditioners doing the full-tilt boogie. This morning, if we were going to be at home for the day, we'd need a fire in the stove. Which reminds me, I need to clean my father's chimney. He mentioned that the chimney hadn't been cleaned for a couple of years. Imagine that. Two years ago (when he was 89) he was getting on the roof to run a set of brushes down the chimney.
Last night we went to a recital. Michael and Krista were outstanding. Music is about hitting the right notes, but, perhaps more importantly, it's about rhythm. Both pieces were rhythmically demanding and they met the challenges wonderfully.
Several people from our former church attended the recital, cheering on one of the children from the congregation. It's like seeing an flame from long ago. We were alternately thrilled and reminded why we had left that church. But the night wasn't about the adults and their weirdnesses. It was about the kids and their music.
Speaking of weirdness and music, Gizmodo brings us this collection of music and machines and whatever.
This is wrong at so many levels - a squirrel decanter.
Adam and Jennie are on their way to Hawaii. Jennie's mother, Diane, is watching Lily today. We'll pick up Lily this evening and have her with us for a couple of days. Sandra and Lily may have their nails done tomorrow (although probably not like this). Tomorrow night we'll sleep at the camp. Lily will then go to Mike and Lynn's for an overnight on Saturday. We'll return her to Diane on Sunday, but not before we have a Father's Day pizza party at M&L's.
Last night we went to a recital. Michael and Krista were outstanding. Music is about hitting the right notes, but, perhaps more importantly, it's about rhythm. Both pieces were rhythmically demanding and they met the challenges wonderfully.
Several people from our former church attended the recital, cheering on one of the children from the congregation. It's like seeing an flame from long ago. We were alternately thrilled and reminded why we had left that church. But the night wasn't about the adults and their weirdnesses. It was about the kids and their music.
Speaking of weirdness and music, Gizmodo brings us this collection of music and machines and whatever.
This is wrong at so many levels - a squirrel decanter.
Adam and Jennie are on their way to Hawaii. Jennie's mother, Diane, is watching Lily today. We'll pick up Lily this evening and have her with us for a couple of days. Sandra and Lily may have their nails done tomorrow (although probably not like this). Tomorrow night we'll sleep at the camp. Lily will then go to Mike and Lynn's for an overnight on Saturday. We'll return her to Diane on Sunday, but not before we have a Father's Day pizza party at M&L's.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Something old. Something new.
We've recently purchased appliances at Sears, so Sears is now sending us love letters of all sorts. Yesterday we received a packet of coupons for discounts on various products, including jewelry. Thanks, but I have all the jewelry that I need. Sandra and I bought our wedding rings at Sears and they're working just fine.
When I bought this laptop last year, I also bought a 64MB USB drive. For those of you who haven't seen one, a USB drive is a little gadget that plugs into your computer and lets you store and transfer files and programs. You used to need a floppy disk to carry files to and from your work and home computers, for example. Well, the drive that I got yesterday holds 16 times the stuff that my year-old USB drive holds and costs less. I paid just over $60 for a 1GB drive.
As one technology columnist often observes, the future of technology is coming at us so quickly that we can't afford to blink.
I used to visit my aunt and uncle in St. Albans, Vermont. St. Albans in the upper-left corner, on Lake Champlain, and one town from Canada. Up there I could watch the Red Sox games broadcast in French from Montréal. (The Expos hadn't come and gone yet.) One day I turned on the radio and found a station from Plattsburg, New York, across the lake. They broadcasting a baseball game, but it was the Yankees game and they were playing someone like Cleveland. I was shocked. It was as though I had picked up Radio Moscow. Did people really listen to baseball games where the Red Sox were not playing? Was it legal for stations to do only Yankees games? I've calmed down since then, but it still doesn't feel quite right.
As I stood in the check-out line at Wal-Mart this past weekend, I noticed that White Owl is selling flavored cigars. Grape. Peach. Chocolate. Mocho Mint. All of that is just so wrong at so many levels.
The hamster will see you now.
Let me see if I've got this right. Come to Me, ye who are weary and heavy-laden and making more than $25,000 a year.
According to a story on NPR, McDonald's is sending Ronald McDonald on an mission to try to encourage kids to exercise more. Ronald wasn't available for comment, so they went to the next best, Richard Simmons. About Ronald, Simmons said, "He stole my Afro!"
When I bought this laptop last year, I also bought a 64MB USB drive. For those of you who haven't seen one, a USB drive is a little gadget that plugs into your computer and lets you store and transfer files and programs. You used to need a floppy disk to carry files to and from your work and home computers, for example. Well, the drive that I got yesterday holds 16 times the stuff that my year-old USB drive holds and costs less. I paid just over $60 for a 1GB drive.
As one technology columnist often observes, the future of technology is coming at us so quickly that we can't afford to blink.
I used to visit my aunt and uncle in St. Albans, Vermont. St. Albans in the upper-left corner, on Lake Champlain, and one town from Canada. Up there I could watch the Red Sox games broadcast in French from Montréal. (The Expos hadn't come and gone yet.) One day I turned on the radio and found a station from Plattsburg, New York, across the lake. They broadcasting a baseball game, but it was the Yankees game and they were playing someone like Cleveland. I was shocked. It was as though I had picked up Radio Moscow. Did people really listen to baseball games where the Red Sox were not playing? Was it legal for stations to do only Yankees games? I've calmed down since then, but it still doesn't feel quite right.
As I stood in the check-out line at Wal-Mart this past weekend, I noticed that White Owl is selling flavored cigars. Grape. Peach. Chocolate. Mocho Mint. All of that is just so wrong at so many levels.
The hamster will see you now.
Let me see if I've got this right. Come to Me, ye who are weary and heavy-laden and making more than $25,000 a year.
According to a story on NPR, McDonald's is sending Ronald McDonald on an mission to try to encourage kids to exercise more. Ronald wasn't available for comment, so they went to the next best, Richard Simmons. About Ronald, Simmons said, "He stole my Afro!"
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Carpe diem,with mustard, relish, and onions
I've received reports about layoffs at IBM. Several former co-workers were told that they had 30 days to find a new job within the company or they'd be moving on. There had been a flurry of activity in LinkedIn, presaging the news. I may not be able to provide direct employment leads, but I'll do what I can. And while doing that, I can also provide moral support. A few years ago, friend T. was a spectator at the Boston Marathon. (She's now training for an Ironman next month.) A little girl on the side of the road held a sign that said, "Run."
Dianne Williamson, a columnist for the Worcester Telegram, quotes a Fox news analyst as saying that Michael Jackson “dabbed tears from his nose.” 'Nuff said.
With the help of a bit software called ReplayRadio, I am recording Internet radio broadcasts and then listening to them on my iPod. I've had a favorite set of college radio shows, some from UMass-Amherst, some from a station in Los Altos Hills (near San Jose).
The North Pole is leaving Canada, heading for Russia at a brisk clip. Santa was seen listening to a set of Russian language tapes, brushing up on his ГО, ГО, ГО.
It's now Dr. Steven Tyler. And check out picture #14 while you're at it. (Thanks, Bill.)
In the What-are-they-thinking? Dept., why would Gatorade use the guitar riff from House of the Rising Sun in an ad about an Ironman event in Hawaii?
Of course, if you're in an Ironman, a marathon, or a half-marathon, you can listen to any music you darn well please. Cue the applause as Adam and Jennie prepare for their races on Sunday.
Happy Birthday, John.
Some 30 years ago, I wrote a poem. It's the only one of mine that I remember.So, carpe diem.
Keep laughing
or they'll have your heart for breakfast.
Keep laughing
or the leftovers'll yours for lunch.
Dianne Williamson, a columnist for the Worcester Telegram, quotes a Fox news analyst as saying that Michael Jackson “dabbed tears from his nose.” 'Nuff said.
With the help of a bit software called ReplayRadio, I am recording Internet radio broadcasts and then listening to them on my iPod. I've had a favorite set of college radio shows, some from UMass-Amherst, some from a station in Los Altos Hills (near San Jose).
The North Pole is leaving Canada, heading for Russia at a brisk clip. Santa was seen listening to a set of Russian language tapes, brushing up on his ГО, ГО, ГО.
It's now Dr. Steven Tyler. And check out picture #14 while you're at it. (Thanks, Bill.)
In the What-are-they-thinking? Dept., why would Gatorade use the guitar riff from House of the Rising Sun in an ad about an Ironman event in Hawaii?
Of course, if you're in an Ironman, a marathon, or a half-marathon, you can listen to any music you darn well please. Cue the applause as Adam and Jennie prepare for their races on Sunday.
Happy Birthday, John.
Monday, June 13, 2005
"Less is only more where more is no good" - FLW
Sandra returned late Saturday night from her most excellent adventure to Fallingwater. She brought back great stories about the fascinating and quirky details that make up not only this architectural masterpiece, but also the genius behind it. Sandra also reports that Pennsylvania drivers obey the speed limits. We've heard of such things, but hadn't seen them in the wild.
A couple of days ago, my father tripped while carrying a gasoline can and pulled a muscle in his leg. The gasoline spilled all over him. He got home and washed his clothes. As the machine entered the rinse cycle, it stopped. He was left with a load of wet, soapy, almost-not-gasoline-soaked clothes. He is using an umbrella for cane. His friend, E., owns a funeral parlor and has a large selection of canes left by customers who didn't need them any more. We'll be doing my father's laundry and grocery shopping for a while.
Thanks to Adam, we now have an "As Seen on TV" remote motion detector at the camp. It, um, detects motion. It picks up activity within 20 feet or so, enough to detect a car or a person in the parking area and sends a signal to a noise-making unit in the camp. Equally importantl, it's quiet when it's supposed to be quiet.
I was cutting up some scrap wood with the table saw in the boathouse. The wood was just a bit too thick (2x6s) for the blade that was in the saw. The blade bound up and stopped. Brushing away the dust (saw and otherwise), I found the reset button, tried again, jammed it again, and then blew a fuse. My father has some other blades at his house, so this project is on hold for a week or so. I don't know the age of the saw, a Sears Craftsman. It was my grandfather's. The Old Gent, as my father called him, (Vaari, as I called him) mounted the on/off switch upside down on the saw frame. There was a good reason for it, I'm sure, probably like the reason that some gas fittings are reverse-threaded. (I'll rant about reverse-threading another time.)
Our neighbor was out raking the lake on Saturday afternoon. Pollen had settled in whorls and swirls on his shoreline, as it had done on ours. They were having company that evening. So, to ensure that the guests would have a good swimming experience, our neighbor was in the water with a leaf rake, moving the pollen into our little cove.
The local weekly paper prints a report of the calls that come into the police station. While TV news is dealing with issues such as African debt relief, the war in Iraq, and nuclear missles in North Korea, here's what's troubling folks in the Wachusett region:
In the not-just-for-medical-professionals department, here are some clever, if not creepy gauze masks.
A couple of days ago, my father tripped while carrying a gasoline can and pulled a muscle in his leg. The gasoline spilled all over him. He got home and washed his clothes. As the machine entered the rinse cycle, it stopped. He was left with a load of wet, soapy, almost-not-gasoline-soaked clothes. He is using an umbrella for cane. His friend, E., owns a funeral parlor and has a large selection of canes left by customers who didn't need them any more. We'll be doing my father's laundry and grocery shopping for a while.
Thanks to Adam, we now have an "As Seen on TV" remote motion detector at the camp. It, um, detects motion. It picks up activity within 20 feet or so, enough to detect a car or a person in the parking area and sends a signal to a noise-making unit in the camp. Equally importantl, it's quiet when it's supposed to be quiet.
I was cutting up some scrap wood with the table saw in the boathouse. The wood was just a bit too thick (2x6s) for the blade that was in the saw. The blade bound up and stopped. Brushing away the dust (saw and otherwise), I found the reset button, tried again, jammed it again, and then blew a fuse. My father has some other blades at his house, so this project is on hold for a week or so. I don't know the age of the saw, a Sears Craftsman. It was my grandfather's. The Old Gent, as my father called him, (Vaari, as I called him) mounted the on/off switch upside down on the saw frame. There was a good reason for it, I'm sure, probably like the reason that some gas fittings are reverse-threaded. (I'll rant about reverse-threading another time.)
Our neighbor was out raking the lake on Saturday afternoon. Pollen had settled in whorls and swirls on his shoreline, as it had done on ours. They were having company that evening. So, to ensure that the guests would have a good swimming experience, our neighbor was in the water with a leaf rake, moving the pollen into our little cove.
The local weekly paper prints a report of the calls that come into the police station. While TV news is dealing with issues such as African debt relief, the war in Iraq, and nuclear missles in North Korea, here's what's troubling folks in the Wachusett region:
- 911 report of ducklings in the sewer drain.
- Woman comes in to the police station at 3PM to report motorist driving erratically that morning.
- Skateboarder "with an attitude" at a local school.
- Radio interference.
In the not-just-for-medical-professionals department, here are some clever, if not creepy gauze masks.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Fearful brown bottle! Its sting presages a scar -- a new lesson learned.
A morning in a quiet house. Sandra is on an adventure with a friend to visit Fallingwater, the house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, near Pittsburgh. They left early this morning to fly from Providence.
This morning's automatic search for a technical documentation job produced these:
Marley's having such a great time at the Island, going everywhere that Woody and Marian go, whether it's a walk down the lane, a ride into town, or stroll behind the self-propelled lawn mower. Our house is empty, just the two of us, for the first time in, like, ever. Sandra and I have talked a lot about getting another pet. There are rescue programs that need foster homes for various breeds of dog. (Dunno about cats.) In any case, if we do get another pet, it'll be a traditional on and not something such as Mike the Headless Chicken.
Buzzword Bingo (and its PG-13 cousin) have been around the business world for a while. Basically, you get a Bingo card with commonly-overused words and phrases. When you hear the word or phrase, you mark your card. When you have five marks in a row, you get to shout "Bingo." Tim Russert was the Class Day speaker at Harvard this week and delivered a speech that has a lot in common with other speeches he's given. Naturally, the best and brightest jumped into action and created Tim Russert Bingo.
My manager and I get along well. When he stops by my cube, usually unannounced, he always sees something interesting on my computer screen. Late yesterday afternoon, he saw an Emacs window full of Perl code. That I had no idea what I was doing and that the code wasn't working didn't come up in conversation.
On the ride home yesterday, I listened to samples from the Periodic Table of Haiku. It's not as good as The Elements by Tom Lehrer, but it was a good distraction from the wackiness of my fellow commuters.
This morning's automatic search for a technical documentation job produced these:
- Biohazard Safety Manager - "Develop emergency response policies for spills and exposures to such chemical/radiological materials such as chemotherapeutic agents, isotopes and hazardous chemical materials."
- Maintenance & Sanitation Manager - Five (5) years supervisory experience in a nutraceutical / pharmaceutical manufacturing environment required. Must have experience working with equipment used in the manufacture, bottling and packaging of dietary supplements and powders.
Marley's having such a great time at the Island, going everywhere that Woody and Marian go, whether it's a walk down the lane, a ride into town, or stroll behind the self-propelled lawn mower. Our house is empty, just the two of us, for the first time in, like, ever. Sandra and I have talked a lot about getting another pet. There are rescue programs that need foster homes for various breeds of dog. (Dunno about cats.) In any case, if we do get another pet, it'll be a traditional on and not something such as Mike the Headless Chicken.
Buzzword Bingo (and its PG-13 cousin) have been around the business world for a while. Basically, you get a Bingo card with commonly-overused words and phrases. When you hear the word or phrase, you mark your card. When you have five marks in a row, you get to shout "Bingo." Tim Russert was the Class Day speaker at Harvard this week and delivered a speech that has a lot in common with other speeches he's given. Naturally, the best and brightest jumped into action and created Tim Russert Bingo.
My manager and I get along well. When he stops by my cube, usually unannounced, he always sees something interesting on my computer screen. Late yesterday afternoon, he saw an Emacs window full of Perl code. That I had no idea what I was doing and that the code wasn't working didn't come up in conversation.
On the ride home yesterday, I listened to samples from the Periodic Table of Haiku. It's not as good as The Elements by Tom Lehrer, but it was a good distraction from the wackiness of my fellow commuters.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
How high the moon
Mornings are simpler by a couple of steps. With Marley off frolicking in the Great White North for the summer, I don't have to hurry to feed a hungry dog. And, finally, we don't need a fire in the wood stove. Mornings are simpler and simpler is good.
The early corn from Florida is starting to show up in the stores. Of course, it isn't as good as corn fresh from the field, but it's still pretty tasty. Boiling water on a steamy day isn't a good idea, so I tried cooking the corn in the microwave. The Betty Crocker cookbook is handy for many things, but not for microwave cooking. A quick Google search showed me that I should cook corn, in the husks, on full power for about a minute-and-a-half per ear. Once again, the Web proves to be the source of all that is good and wise.
I had a good chat with my manager yesterday afternoon. It started off as a discussion about the lack of a spell checker in the latest AOL Instant Messenger and led through lots of turns - nuclear submarines and Soviet space programs, networking (personal and systems) at Digital, MIT graduates as a breed apart, self-absorbed bloggers - and ended with his mentioning that he'd spoken favorably about me to his boss. There might be a permanent opening, but I'll keep my hopes in check.
Today marks a couple of events, one tragic and the other pleasant. In 1953 a tornado struck Worcester, killing 94 people. In 1915 Les Paul was born. I had played a Les Paul guitar once; it belonged to a friend in college. Sweet, smooth sound and action.
The early corn from Florida is starting to show up in the stores. Of course, it isn't as good as corn fresh from the field, but it's still pretty tasty. Boiling water on a steamy day isn't a good idea, so I tried cooking the corn in the microwave. The Betty Crocker cookbook is handy for many things, but not for microwave cooking. A quick Google search showed me that I should cook corn, in the husks, on full power for about a minute-and-a-half per ear. Once again, the Web proves to be the source of all that is good and wise.
I had a good chat with my manager yesterday afternoon. It started off as a discussion about the lack of a spell checker in the latest AOL Instant Messenger and led through lots of turns - nuclear submarines and Soviet space programs, networking (personal and systems) at Digital, MIT graduates as a breed apart, self-absorbed bloggers - and ended with his mentioning that he'd spoken favorably about me to his boss. There might be a permanent opening, but I'll keep my hopes in check.
Today marks a couple of events, one tragic and the other pleasant. In 1953 a tornado struck Worcester, killing 94 people. In 1915 Les Paul was born. I had played a Les Paul guitar once; it belonged to a friend in college. Sweet, smooth sound and action.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Hitting the market window, like a bird
The most common mispronunciation of our last name is Hakkarainian, making the name sound Armenian. Now, even my automated job searches are getting into the act.
Marian reports that Marley came upstairs at five yesterday morning and licked her face.
With the Red Sox doing the Curly Shuffle in St. Louis again last night, we watched a good show about Hawaii on Globe Trekker. At one point, a Hawaiian girl was helping host Megan McCormick gather wild flowers for a lei. As a part of a deeply traditional and spiritual ritual, Megan would bring the lei as a gift to the people hosting a luau. The girl was collecting the flowers in a Wal-Mart plastic bag.
And, in other world news, Hindus marry toads, hope for rain.
I don't know why the U.S. Customs folks let this guy in the country, but I'm pretty sure I know why Canada didn't want him: Man with what appeared to be a bloody chain saw let into U.S. - Crime & Punishment - MSNBC.com
Fight ageism by looking younger, this guy says. I really hope that it's a joke. "Guys, don't forget about your moustache. Generally, it looks best if you color your hair your original color." "A good face lift makes you look 10 years younger and lasts a long time." And women should fight sexism how? And people of color should fight racism how? And if you're short, well, you could try various stretching techniques.
Today is a very special day in Dilbert's life. It's the birthday of Scott Adams. (Today's title is from a Dilbert strip.)
Marian reports that Marley came upstairs at five yesterday morning and licked her face.
With the Red Sox doing the Curly Shuffle in St. Louis again last night, we watched a good show about Hawaii on Globe Trekker. At one point, a Hawaiian girl was helping host Megan McCormick gather wild flowers for a lei. As a part of a deeply traditional and spiritual ritual, Megan would bring the lei as a gift to the people hosting a luau. The girl was collecting the flowers in a Wal-Mart plastic bag.
And, in other world news, Hindus marry toads, hope for rain.
I don't know why the U.S. Customs folks let this guy in the country, but I'm pretty sure I know why Canada didn't want him: Man with what appeared to be a bloody chain saw let into U.S. - Crime & Punishment - MSNBC.com
Fight ageism by looking younger, this guy says. I really hope that it's a joke. "Guys, don't forget about your moustache. Generally, it looks best if you color your hair your original color." "A good face lift makes you look 10 years younger and lasts a long time." And women should fight sexism how? And people of color should fight racism how? And if you're short, well, you could try various stretching techniques.
Today is a very special day in Dilbert's life. It's the birthday of Scott Adams. (Today's title is from a Dilbert strip.)
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Science projects
With just the two of us at home now, leftovers in the refrigerator are more likely to wind up as little bags and dishes of "What's This?" It might be simpler to put the food straight into the dishwasher and eat from there.
At yesterday's doctor's appointment, we decided to change some medications, eliminating one product and returning to another that I'd used a couple of years ago. The side effects are riskier, but the stuff worked well. It's also expensive, with a month's supply more than $250. Thank goodness for insurance.
After hearing a radio interview with Dr. Peter Kramer, I ordered and have started reading his new book, Against Depression. I'm not far enough along to have a real opinion about the book yet. Among his key points is that depression is no more ennobling than myopia or shingles. I'll have more comments about the book as I move through it.
And with the Red Sox playing the way that they are, I'm going to have more time for reading. The Sox are in St. Louis, scene of last year's glorious victory. Last night's game was, well, all too common. I have family in the St. Louis area, my father's brother's family. I hope that they're enjoying the series.
Let me see if I've got this right. Citigroup sends millions of customer records on an unencrypted tape via UPS. Why not just send blank checks to the bad guys and cut out the middleman?
At yesterday's doctor's appointment, we decided to change some medications, eliminating one product and returning to another that I'd used a couple of years ago. The side effects are riskier, but the stuff worked well. It's also expensive, with a month's supply more than $250. Thank goodness for insurance.
After hearing a radio interview with Dr. Peter Kramer, I ordered and have started reading his new book, Against Depression. I'm not far enough along to have a real opinion about the book yet. Among his key points is that depression is no more ennobling than myopia or shingles. I'll have more comments about the book as I move through it.
And with the Red Sox playing the way that they are, I'm going to have more time for reading. The Sox are in St. Louis, scene of last year's glorious victory. Last night's game was, well, all too common. I have family in the St. Louis area, my father's brother's family. I hope that they're enjoying the series.
Let me see if I've got this right. Citigroup sends millions of customer records on an unencrypted tape via UPS. Why not just send blank checks to the bad guys and cut out the middleman?
Monday, June 06, 2005
Pulling the start cord on the lawnmower of life
Adam, Jennie, and Lily came for a visit, dinner, and sauna at the camp on Saturday. I cooked some steaks on the outside grill and they came out well. Adam's helping us with the installation of the new gas cooktop. I got tired just thinking about his day on Saturday. He worked the overnight shift, ran 15 miles after work, slept for a few hours, and drove to see us. We made sure that he had an extra cup of coffee for the ride home.
In two weeks, they will have completed their fund-raising race. Adam's slated to run a marathon, Jennie a half-marathon, as a fund-raiser for stroke research.
My father and his friends built a massive stone fireplace at the camp. The mortar was mixed by a long-time friend, a fellow who still visits my father for sauna every few weeks. (The friend is up in Hudson's Bay this week, visiting with the Cree Indians.) Anyway, this friend was new to mixing mortar. As a result, little white flakes and chunks have been falling off the fireplace for 60 years. My father grumbles about it, good-naturedly, mostly. When we are cleaning up, we mutter this guy's name. We're passing the info along to Mike and Adam, so the next generations can continue the grumbling.
The hydrangea that Sandra planted by the boathouse is coming back. The small hemlocks along the paths have fresh green tips of new growth. Sandra found another trillium in the woods. She reports that the ground is very wet, even a couple of hundred feet from the water's edge.
We met with the contractor about putting a road from our parking area to the back of the camp. He gave us can of orange spray paint which we used to mark the trees that we wanted cut down. It'll be both exhilarating and saddening to have the trees come down, opening us to much more sunlight. We didn't keep count, but it may be three or four dozen trees that are slated to come down. They're tall trees in many cases, near power lines or the camp. It's work that's best donw by professionals.
Saturday was calm. (Or, as they say in PEI, "Cam, dear.") We had a canoe ride, gliding smoothly through the pollen that coat the water in the cove. There were several boats on the lake, including Elden and my father. The sun was strong and warm.
Screwdrivers have legs and bad homing instincts. Afer the the lawn mover would start, I wanted to remove the air filter and open up the butterfly valve a bit. No flathead screwdriver. Fortunately I had my Swiss army knife. Even more fortunately, my father showed up so I didn't have time to do the mowing. Next week, for sure.
So, my father, who reminds us that when he was a kid, commercial radio didn't exist, is thinking of giving up his landline phone for a cell phone. We have a few more details to resolve, including the setup of his voice mail. It could be a very good idea, saving him $20-$30 per month. Or, it could be something else.
After all that tumult of the weekend, it's easy to forget that it's time to go back to work. I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon. I'm ready, as are those around me who've been patient andkind Knowing what's not working doesn't automatically translate into knowing what does.
In two weeks, they will have completed their fund-raising race. Adam's slated to run a marathon, Jennie a half-marathon, as a fund-raiser for stroke research.
My father and his friends built a massive stone fireplace at the camp. The mortar was mixed by a long-time friend, a fellow who still visits my father for sauna every few weeks. (The friend is up in Hudson's Bay this week, visiting with the Cree Indians.) Anyway, this friend was new to mixing mortar. As a result, little white flakes and chunks have been falling off the fireplace for 60 years. My father grumbles about it, good-naturedly, mostly. When we are cleaning up, we mutter this guy's name. We're passing the info along to Mike and Adam, so the next generations can continue the grumbling.
The hydrangea that Sandra planted by the boathouse is coming back. The small hemlocks along the paths have fresh green tips of new growth. Sandra found another trillium in the woods. She reports that the ground is very wet, even a couple of hundred feet from the water's edge.
We met with the contractor about putting a road from our parking area to the back of the camp. He gave us can of orange spray paint which we used to mark the trees that we wanted cut down. It'll be both exhilarating and saddening to have the trees come down, opening us to much more sunlight. We didn't keep count, but it may be three or four dozen trees that are slated to come down. They're tall trees in many cases, near power lines or the camp. It's work that's best donw by professionals.
Saturday was calm. (Or, as they say in PEI, "Cam, dear.") We had a canoe ride, gliding smoothly through the pollen that coat the water in the cove. There were several boats on the lake, including Elden and my father. The sun was strong and warm.
Screwdrivers have legs and bad homing instincts. Afer the the lawn mover would start, I wanted to remove the air filter and open up the butterfly valve a bit. No flathead screwdriver. Fortunately I had my Swiss army knife. Even more fortunately, my father showed up so I didn't have time to do the mowing. Next week, for sure.
So, my father, who reminds us that when he was a kid, commercial radio didn't exist, is thinking of giving up his landline phone for a cell phone. We have a few more details to resolve, including the setup of his voice mail. It could be a very good idea, saving him $20-$30 per month. Or, it could be something else.
After all that tumult of the weekend, it's easy to forget that it's time to go back to work. I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon. I'm ready, as are those around me who've been patient andkind Knowing what's not working doesn't automatically translate into knowing what does.
Friday, June 03, 2005
It was the third of June ...
It would be an interesting way to consume precious hours of life to collect a list of song that have dates featured in them. Today's selection is that sultry Sixties classic, Ode to Billie Jo. The only other song phrase that comes to mind right away is "the first of December was covered with snow," from James Taylor's Sweet Baby James.
When I was growing up, we had boxes of Finnish folk songs on dusty 78s. I used the rest of the records for target practice with my BB gun. Of course, everything old is new again. Now you can download MP3 versions of venerable tunes such as Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag, He'd Have to Get Under - Get Out and Get Under (to Fix Up His Automobile), and Yes! We Have No Bananas.
The BBC is playing the complete works of Beethoven and making those performances available for download.
Before the iPod, before the Walkman, I had a pocket transistor radio. This would have been in the early 60s, when Japanese radios were still something of a novelty. My radio had an earphone. So, much as I do now, I would walk along with the earphone in place, listening to music. Such a small radio couldn't reliably pick up WMEX in Boston, so I'd listen to WORC in Worcester. (At night the whole eastern U.S. was in range.) When I was wearing a jacket or long-sleeved shirt, I could run the earphone cord down my arm and then lean my head against my hand. I was once more in a world of my own.
One time I was walking through South Gardner. A woman stopped me and said, "Oh, you poor boy, needing a hearing aid at your age." When I tried to explain that it was a radio, she walked away quickly, apparently not liking having her sympathy rejected.
When I was growing up, we had boxes of Finnish folk songs on dusty 78s. I used the rest of the records for target practice with my BB gun. Of course, everything old is new again. Now you can download MP3 versions of venerable tunes such as Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag, He'd Have to Get Under - Get Out and Get Under (to Fix Up His Automobile), and Yes! We Have No Bananas.
The BBC is playing the complete works of Beethoven and making those performances available for download.
Before the iPod, before the Walkman, I had a pocket transistor radio. This would have been in the early 60s, when Japanese radios were still something of a novelty. My radio had an earphone. So, much as I do now, I would walk along with the earphone in place, listening to music. Such a small radio couldn't reliably pick up WMEX in Boston, so I'd listen to WORC in Worcester. (At night the whole eastern U.S. was in range.) When I was wearing a jacket or long-sleeved shirt, I could run the earphone cord down my arm and then lean my head against my hand. I was once more in a world of my own.
One time I was walking through South Gardner. A woman stopped me and said, "Oh, you poor boy, needing a hearing aid at your age." When I tried to explain that it was a radio, she walked away quickly, apparently not liking having her sympathy rejected.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
How much is 10% of someone else's income?
Showing that you can get someone to pay you to do almost anything, blogging is becoming a paid position at many companies.
Or, you could just buy 10% of someone's income.
As Marley runs through the acres (hectares) of fields and woods along the shore line, I hope he gives thought to the other dogs who are struggling to get into doggie day care.
"Don't make me get the Portable Time-Out Mat!"
The guys from QE will throw out the first pitch at Fenway Park this coming Sunday. Maybe they can stay and help with the pitching for the rest of the game. True to their DNA, the Red Sox have had spectacularly uneven pitching this season. Tim Wakefield's 9-3 loss last night is a classic example. Knuckle balls that don't knuckle are heading for Lansdowne Street.
Hitting has been the strength of the Red Sox for the last 50-60 years. Not pitching, although there have been some greats. Luis Tiant, of course, with his twisting delivery that had him looking into center field before the pitch. Bill Lee, who'd throw 75 junk pitches in a complete game. Clemens, a first-ballot Hall-of-Famer but with the attitude of a teenage hood. Jim Lonborg, Bill Monbouquette, Dick Radatz. Defense could be, um, interesting, with Dick Stuart, aka 'Dr. Stranglove' aka 'Clank,' and Don Buddin, for whom his teammates made a special license plate 'E-4.'
Those who care probably don't need to be told, but Krispy Kreme is giving away a donut to each visit tomorrow (3 June).
There were people at the college reunion weekend who used avuncular and schadenfreude as though they were real words.
Sandra has brought in sweet-smelling flowers from our yard - Purple Flag Iris and Lily of the Valley. The year that we were married, Sandra's mother was concerned that the lilacs wouldn't stay in bloom until the wedding; they just barely made it. This year, with the much colder May, the lilacs are still colorful and fragrant.
Happy Birthday, Lori.
Or, you could just buy 10% of someone's income.
As Marley runs through the acres (hectares) of fields and woods along the shore line, I hope he gives thought to the other dogs who are struggling to get into doggie day care.
"Don't make me get the Portable Time-Out Mat!"
The guys from QE will throw out the first pitch at Fenway Park this coming Sunday. Maybe they can stay and help with the pitching for the rest of the game. True to their DNA, the Red Sox have had spectacularly uneven pitching this season. Tim Wakefield's 9-3 loss last night is a classic example. Knuckle balls that don't knuckle are heading for Lansdowne Street.
Hitting has been the strength of the Red Sox for the last 50-60 years. Not pitching, although there have been some greats. Luis Tiant, of course, with his twisting delivery that had him looking into center field before the pitch. Bill Lee, who'd throw 75 junk pitches in a complete game. Clemens, a first-ballot Hall-of-Famer but with the attitude of a teenage hood. Jim Lonborg, Bill Monbouquette, Dick Radatz. Defense could be, um, interesting, with Dick Stuart, aka 'Dr. Stranglove' aka 'Clank,' and Don Buddin, for whom his teammates made a special license plate 'E-4.'
Those who care probably don't need to be told, but Krispy Kreme is giving away a donut to each visit tomorrow (3 June).
There were people at the college reunion weekend who used avuncular and schadenfreude as though they were real words.
Sandra has brought in sweet-smelling flowers from our yard - Purple Flag Iris and Lily of the Valley. The year that we were married, Sandra's mother was concerned that the lilacs wouldn't stay in bloom until the wedding; they just barely made it. This year, with the much colder May, the lilacs are still colorful and fragrant.
Happy Birthday, Lori.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Sans Chien
We'll get used to it in a while and the time will pass quickly. We'll get used to not stopping on the hill so that we can let Marley run up the camp road. We'll get used eating a whole orange by ourselves. We'll get used to leaving shoes on the hearth and having them still there in the morning.
Sandra's parents reported that Marley went upstairs and all around the house after Sandra and Mike left early on Sunday morning. By then Marley had already had two baths. At the corner of the French Road, there's some mud along the Mitchell River. It's not just ordinary mud, though; it's mud with something dead in it. We're thinking of getting one of those car deodorizers and hanging it on his collar.
On Tuesday he had a ride with Woody and Marian to the Post Office in downtown Cardigan.
Mike and Sandra made excellent time, 10:15, on their return trip. The weather was good and the border crossing quick. It was a good chance for them to talk. When Sandra returned home, she said, "Karl, I'm a metric." After some fiddling with the buttons on the dashboard of her car, we figured out how to change the odometer, thermometer, and other ometers back to English measurements. It was fun to have different adventures and even better to be back home together.
I talked with quite a few people during my college's reunion weekend and hear a lot of anxiety. A lot of very successful people have graduated from there, successful in business, law, medicine, academia, and the performing arts, so it's easy to fall in the trap of comparing performance. Still, it was gratifying to look around the parking lot and see Hondas, Subarus, and Tauruses (Tauri?), to see that the Hyundais outnumbered the Porsches. These were people returning because they'd had a good time in college and wanted to reconnect with friends, faculty, and the campus.
On the ride there, I passed through different words, from Support Our Troops yellow magnetic ribbons on the backs of cars and trucks to Free Tibet bumper stickers. I passed signs that said "I buy houses" in hand-lettering. "No Title 5. No problem." Another place offered used cars and/or sanitation services.
Mount Wachusett still has a few patches of snow and wild turkeys slow traffic on the mountain road.
We bought a new new phone recently. Inside the instruction booklet was a slip of paper, "Need Help? Call Toll Free. 1(800)nnn-nnnn."
Sandra's parents reported that Marley went upstairs and all around the house after Sandra and Mike left early on Sunday morning. By then Marley had already had two baths. At the corner of the French Road, there's some mud along the Mitchell River. It's not just ordinary mud, though; it's mud with something dead in it. We're thinking of getting one of those car deodorizers and hanging it on his collar.
On Tuesday he had a ride with Woody and Marian to the Post Office in downtown Cardigan.
Mike and Sandra made excellent time, 10:15, on their return trip. The weather was good and the border crossing quick. It was a good chance for them to talk. When Sandra returned home, she said, "Karl, I'm a metric." After some fiddling with the buttons on the dashboard of her car, we figured out how to change the odometer, thermometer, and other ometers back to English measurements. It was fun to have different adventures and even better to be back home together.
I talked with quite a few people during my college's reunion weekend and hear a lot of anxiety. A lot of very successful people have graduated from there, successful in business, law, medicine, academia, and the performing arts, so it's easy to fall in the trap of comparing performance. Still, it was gratifying to look around the parking lot and see Hondas, Subarus, and Tauruses (Tauri?), to see that the Hyundais outnumbered the Porsches. These were people returning because they'd had a good time in college and wanted to reconnect with friends, faculty, and the campus.
On the ride there, I passed through different words, from Support Our Troops yellow magnetic ribbons on the backs of cars and trucks to Free Tibet bumper stickers. I passed signs that said "I buy houses" in hand-lettering. "No Title 5. No problem." Another place offered used cars and/or sanitation services.
Mount Wachusett still has a few patches of snow and wild turkeys slow traffic on the mountain road.
We bought a new new phone recently. Inside the instruction booklet was a slip of paper, "Need Help? Call Toll Free. 1(800)nnn-nnnn."
Friday, May 27, 2005
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 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.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
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.
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.
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