It's cold up there.
Saturday, September 6
A Token for your Thoughts
Last night, after spending an evening at a friend's house, Marilee said she needed a fountain drink, so we decided on stopping at a McDonald's. Specifically the one on 5th South in downtown Salt Lake City.Stopping off at this restaurant afforded me something else - a restroom.
Put plainly, I needed to whiz. Soon.
Upon entering the famed billions served establishment, the damn restroom door wouldn't open. There, near the edge of the door, there was a locking mechanism. WTF?
I'd seen these things in the past, waaaay in the past, around the '60s. And my dad'd mentioned them in a variant of Old Man Talk thusly:
"Here I sit
Broken hearted
Paid a nickel
Only farted."
Since my Dad was born in 1910, I have no idea, decade-wise, when the saying originated - but I can guess that whenever it was, a nickel really meant something.
[Interesting afterthought to this entry - Nik-O-Lock started in 1910, and judging by the name, started out using nickels!]
Since this particular McDonald's is in a part of town frequented by, uh, transients, I'm sure this aforementioned pay device is there for a very good reason.
If you want to use the restroom, you need to buy something. Fountain drinks, ironically, came under that heading. So after embarrassingly asking for a token, I was able to do my business, but not before shooing away the urchin children huddled around the restroom door who weren't tall enough to read the text on the lock.
Upon exiting the restroom, there stood the kids. Turning tail and running towards their mother, they actually said "The door opened!".
CLICK.
Thursday, September 4
On Google Chrome
Chris was over last night and asked if I had seen Google Chrome yet. I'd heard rumblings about it, but had dropped it from conscious thought until he mentioned it.
Oddly enough, I googled it, and immediately noticed the system requirements - Vista and XP only. Likely won't see a Windows 98 version any time soon.
"This" being my primary laptop, I wasn't going to get "it" running, since it has 2000 loaded. But the "other" laptop? It's running XP. So switched gears (and power adapters) and booted XP.
Loaded up Firefox so as to download Chrome.
[Note: this reminds me of a time when, to load OS/2, you had to run FDISK from DOS to partition the hard drive. Since most OSes nowadays come replete with a browser, how, exactly was this process started in the past? Easy - from removable media. My first browser, Netscape 1.01, fit on a floppy.]
Sorry, got off on a tangent.
Niiiiice browser, Chrome is. I was tempted to then get the other other laptop from work, but stopped. Not the thought so much as the follow-through. A quick flashback to the Reply to None post of last week made me realize the IT folk at the home office probably wouldn't appreciate the intrusion.
Last week, I was talking to one of the more, uh, computer-friendly tech support guys I'd dealt with in the past in the "before time"; he said that there are times when some "innovative" measures are necessary to get a file or media of any sort to some of my associates. Not in Utah, but elsewhere in the country. Some don't even have computers. I'm guessing he was referring to the "later arrivals" in the mix, those who are more "home office" than "before time" co-workers. After all, what was, was computer-oriented; what is now is not.
Years ago, someone asked if I had a computer at home - this was MANY years ago - and I said yes I do. Jumping at the opportunity, the query then became "HOW could you have a computer at home, I'd think you'd get sick of working on a computer all day."
The answer, so many years later, is easy. I don't have to WORK on it. IT works so you don't have to.
Hm. Sounds like a neat byline.
Oddly enough, I googled it, and immediately noticed the system requirements - Vista and XP only. Likely won't see a Windows 98 version any time soon.
"This" being my primary laptop, I wasn't going to get "it" running, since it has 2000 loaded. But the "other" laptop? It's running XP. So switched gears (and power adapters) and booted XP.
Loaded up Firefox so as to download Chrome.
[Note: this reminds me of a time when, to load OS/2, you had to run FDISK from DOS to partition the hard drive. Since most OSes nowadays come replete with a browser, how, exactly was this process started in the past? Easy - from removable media. My first browser, Netscape 1.01, fit on a floppy.]
Sorry, got off on a tangent.
Niiiiice browser, Chrome is. I was tempted to then get the other other laptop from work, but stopped. Not the thought so much as the follow-through. A quick flashback to the Reply to None post of last week made me realize the IT folk at the home office probably wouldn't appreciate the intrusion.
Last week, I was talking to one of the more, uh, computer-friendly tech support guys I'd dealt with in the past in the "before time"; he said that there are times when some "innovative" measures are necessary to get a file or media of any sort to some of my associates. Not in Utah, but elsewhere in the country. Some don't even have computers. I'm guessing he was referring to the "later arrivals" in the mix, those who are more "home office" than "before time" co-workers. After all, what was, was computer-oriented; what is now is not.
Years ago, someone asked if I had a computer at home - this was MANY years ago - and I said yes I do. Jumping at the opportunity, the query then became "HOW could you have a computer at home, I'd think you'd get sick of working on a computer all day."
The answer, so many years later, is easy. I don't have to WORK on it. IT works so you don't have to.
Hm. Sounds like a neat byline.
Wednesday, September 3
Knowledge is Power
A hand-me-down of sorts in my possession is a 1945 Encyclopædia Britannica. I treasure it not because it's old, but because it's old.
I know that doesn't make much sense, but a book - or volumes of a book - that chronicles history before any given date is more likely to document the time before in much more detail than what you'd expect to see in any modern book.
Why? Consider this: That 1945 Encyclopædia Britannica has twenty-four volumes. Go out and get a 2008 edition and it will have twenty-four volumes. Where, exactly, did the last 63 years go? On the cutting-room floor, that's where.
I commented on the old vs. new scenario to Marilee this morning; she said that it's "old information". That's true - much of what is past is outdated. Not relevant. But not unimportant.
I used that set of volumes through my senior year of high school. US History was a blast, literally, particularly for the information on World War II. To a point.
Because, you see, the war was still in progress. The maps in the atlas were only correct up to a certain date.
Of the tens-of-thousands entries in that encyclopedia, there's one topic missing.
There's no entry for Atomic.
I know that doesn't make much sense, but a book - or volumes of a book - that chronicles history before any given date is more likely to document the time before in much more detail than what you'd expect to see in any modern book.
Why? Consider this: That 1945 Encyclopædia Britannica has twenty-four volumes. Go out and get a 2008 edition and it will have twenty-four volumes. Where, exactly, did the last 63 years go? On the cutting-room floor, that's where.
I commented on the old vs. new scenario to Marilee this morning; she said that it's "old information". That's true - much of what is past is outdated. Not relevant. But not unimportant.
I used that set of volumes through my senior year of high school. US History was a blast, literally, particularly for the information on World War II. To a point.
Because, you see, the war was still in progress. The maps in the atlas were only correct up to a certain date.
Of the tens-of-thousands entries in that encyclopedia, there's one topic missing.
There's no entry for Atomic.
Inconvenience
I've left my pet peeves out of my blog thus far; other than my myriad winter ones concerning snow removal from other drivers' windshields, I have a real problem with McDonald's employees and the way they "do" their jobs. Not the folks who work in the back, who are preparing the food, I'm talking about the folks who work up front.
The local store has far too many people in the "lobby". How many people do you really need up there? There's one to take the walk-up orders, one on the window, one generally doing the fried potato products. Seems to me there should be another one to do the actual order filling for the walk-up and one for the window, right? So how, exactly, do they need a total of ten people crammed into an area designed for five? They're either looking at the monitors or just watching; no one is actually filling or taking orders.
My order taker listens to what I order (following is verbatim):
BS: "A number two combo with a large drink"
McD: "Is that to stay or to go?"
BS: "To go. AND Two Bacon, Egg, and Cheese biscuits
McD: "Is that to stay or to go?"
BS: "ALSO to go"
McD: [silence]
BS: "A number 11 combo with orange juice"
BS: [silence]
BS: "And a small coffee"
McD: "Is that to stay or to go?"
And when the "order" is presented to me, sans large drink cup, on a tray, I say "That was to go", they turn and look at the monitor they've been staring at for the last twenty minutes (or so it seems), no one ever thinks that maybe the order-taker has made a mistake. They just look at you like YOU have made a mistake.
Tempted to say something negative about any kind of language barrier, I just smile and say again "TO GO". Begrudgingly, they put the order in a bag. Like it's more work for them.
OK, so this whole exchange has taken less than a minute. And you're not so much paying for the quality of the food, you're paying for the convenience of fast food.
At least when you go to a 7-11, you expect the minimalist service. Convenience at its best.
And everything's to go.
The local store has far too many people in the "lobby". How many people do you really need up there? There's one to take the walk-up orders, one on the window, one generally doing the fried potato products. Seems to me there should be another one to do the actual order filling for the walk-up and one for the window, right? So how, exactly, do they need a total of ten people crammed into an area designed for five? They're either looking at the monitors or just watching; no one is actually filling or taking orders.
My order taker listens to what I order (following is verbatim):
BS: "A number two combo with a large drink"
McD: "Is that to stay or to go?"
BS: "To go. AND Two Bacon, Egg, and Cheese biscuits
McD: "Is that to stay or to go?"
BS: "ALSO to go"
McD: [silence]
BS: "A number 11 combo with orange juice"
BS: [silence]
BS: "And a small coffee"
McD: "Is that to stay or to go?"
And when the "order" is presented to me, sans large drink cup, on a tray, I say "That was to go", they turn and look at the monitor they've been staring at for the last twenty minutes (or so it seems), no one ever thinks that maybe the order-taker has made a mistake. They just look at you like YOU have made a mistake.
Tempted to say something negative about any kind of language barrier, I just smile and say again "TO GO". Begrudgingly, they put the order in a bag. Like it's more work for them.
OK, so this whole exchange has taken less than a minute. And you're not so much paying for the quality of the food, you're paying for the convenience of fast food.
At least when you go to a 7-11, you expect the minimalist service. Convenience at its best.
And everything's to go.
Tuesday, September 2
Axe Me About Handles
The last couple days here in the Salt Lake City area have belied the season. It's been cold - well, cold for this part of the season. Don't get me wrong - when I lived in California, cold was 60 degrees. Here, it's shirt-sleeve weather. In Utah, cold is 10 below.
Other than cold, it's been raining. And in Utah, the rain is cold, too. I've heard people say that the rain here is the coldest they're ever felt, too. Must be the altitude - the middle of the Salt Lake Valley is 4200 feet or so.
Sunday morning, sitting on the front stoop with my visibly steaming coffee, it was getting to that point temperature-wise where you start wondering how far away the snow might be, then it started hailing. The weather had now run the gamut.
I almost expected to see a pitchfork hitting the ground.
Other than cold, it's been raining. And in Utah, the rain is cold, too. I've heard people say that the rain here is the coldest they're ever felt, too. Must be the altitude - the middle of the Salt Lake Valley is 4200 feet or so.
Sunday morning, sitting on the front stoop with my visibly steaming coffee, it was getting to that point temperature-wise where you start wondering how far away the snow might be, then it started hailing. The weather had now run the gamut.
I almost expected to see a pitchfork hitting the ground.
Monday, September 1
Potty Humor
We've had a house guest the latter part of last week through today; Lady has been staying with Marilee, Taylor, and I while Jenn is vacationing in California with Chris and Ramin. Lady is quite the lady whenever she comes over - she doesn't fight with the other dogs, hardly barks, and is just a love. Not to mention smarter than your average four-legged - sometimes two-legged - creature. Hell, she's more human than most humans.
So when the time comes for the executives to go outside for their business meetings, the only one out of the herd who doesn't make a big deal out of coming back inside (naturally) is Lady. Time spent for her is measured is seconds - no sooner does she go out that she's back, scratching at the door. Yeah, like that's enough time for a whiz.
The secret for Lady to spend more time outside is for me to crouch down, open the door a smidge, and whisper "Go potty more."
She slowly turns on the steps, and puts in some overtime.
[Note: Jennifer is really going to have to come up with a superb reason to get Lady back - we don't want her to go!]
So when the time comes for the executives to go outside for their business meetings, the only one out of the herd who doesn't make a big deal out of coming back inside (naturally) is Lady. Time spent for her is measured is seconds - no sooner does she go out that she's back, scratching at the door. Yeah, like that's enough time for a whiz.
The secret for Lady to spend more time outside is for me to crouch down, open the door a smidge, and whisper "Go potty more."
She slowly turns on the steps, and puts in some overtime.
[Note: Jennifer is really going to have to come up with a superb reason to get Lady back - we don't want her to go!]
Well THAT Was Fun
When I started this thing, I realized it would be necessary to write - at the very least - a post a day to keep everything fresh. Current, no so much. But fresh.
To keep you coming back for more.
So I had thirty-seven posts in August. Some days had no new posts, other days, the words just flew off my fingers, and multiple posts happened in one day.
But Blogger being what it is, and how it is, you won't see that. The list for September begins anew at one measly post. For now.
At my August rate, there should be forty or more posts for the month of September.
Stay tuned.
To keep you coming back for more.
So I had thirty-seven posts in August. Some days had no new posts, other days, the words just flew off my fingers, and multiple posts happened in one day.
But Blogger being what it is, and how it is, you won't see that. The list for September begins anew at one measly post. For now.
At my August rate, there should be forty or more posts for the month of September.
Stay tuned.
Saturday, August 30
The Rule of Slides
Lame pun.
A week or so ago, one of my co-workers was tap-tap-tapping away at his laptop when I commented that he really, really needed to put the damn thing down for a bit and try talking to people on the phone. Or even sending an email.
And maybe even use an abacus once in a while.
"A what?"
Like from the movie "Sleepless in Seattle", when Tom Hanks says "I don't even want to know what they're not teaching you in school", I don't want to know why he didn't know what an abacus is.
Earlier this week, after the abacus incident, I showed him one of my prized possessions, a '60's vintage slide rule. Dave knew what it was. Blank stare otherwise.
I didn't press the issue. I just rolled my eyes skyward. To the moon and stars.
A week or so ago, one of my co-workers was tap-tap-tapping away at his laptop when I commented that he really, really needed to put the damn thing down for a bit and try talking to people on the phone. Or even sending an email.
And maybe even use an abacus once in a while.
"A what?"
Like from the movie "Sleepless in Seattle", when Tom Hanks says "I don't even want to know what they're not teaching you in school", I don't want to know why he didn't know what an abacus is.
Earlier this week, after the abacus incident, I showed him one of my prized possessions, a '60's vintage slide rule. Dave knew what it was. Blank stare otherwise.
I didn't press the issue. I just rolled my eyes skyward. To the moon and stars.
Hummus
Empty your mind. Even if you've tried (and liked) hummus, imagine you're hearing the word for the first time. And if you've tried (and hated) hummus, imagine the above as well.
Would you want to try hummus?
Didn't think so.
The word, in and of itself, doesn't conjure up a tasty treat.
Early on, I never wanted to eat or even think of eating yams. Envision yourself as a little kid, and say yeeeeamms. And don't try side-stepping the issue and saying sweet potatoes. It's a different vegetable, after all. But getting a kid to eat a sweet potato is far easier than yeeeeamms.
Same with yogurt. Now I'm a good many years older, and yogurt isn't so bad. Particularly if it's boysenberry yogurt.
So think of all the foods that you didn't like as a kid but now like as an adult. And what the word sounds like.
Just don't mention haggis.
That doesn't sound good no matter how old you are.
Would you want to try hummus?
Didn't think so.
The word, in and of itself, doesn't conjure up a tasty treat.
Early on, I never wanted to eat or even think of eating yams. Envision yourself as a little kid, and say yeeeeamms. And don't try side-stepping the issue and saying sweet potatoes. It's a different vegetable, after all. But getting a kid to eat a sweet potato is far easier than yeeeeamms.
Same with yogurt. Now I'm a good many years older, and yogurt isn't so bad. Particularly if it's boysenberry yogurt.
So think of all the foods that you didn't like as a kid but now like as an adult. And what the word sounds like.
Just don't mention haggis.
That doesn't sound good no matter how old you are.
Friday, August 29
Reply to None
The root of the word reply is a Latin verb, replicare. From that root, another word, replication is derived. Isn't it convenient that both reply and replication are involved when electronic forms of communication, known as email, remind us that people are stupid?
I and the majority of my co-workers on a planetary scale were victims of one stupid person who doesn't know why a hoax is a hoax. Hoax has nothing to do with replication as a word, but that's the way it turned out today. In regards to this one email, Microsoft and America Online don't care if you are stupid enough to forward an email. And there's no remuneration involved. They want your money, they don't want to give any of it back.
One person sent this sort of email to everyone in his address book. Which replicated when the next person replied to all. And the next person replicated that. And so on. Ad nauseum.
The chain of stupidity stopped when the original sender "recalled" the email. And I'm sure he didn't do it of his own accord - his immediate supervisor might have threatened something else more immediate.
When one of these emails happens your way, reply to none.
Do us all a favor.
I and the majority of my co-workers on a planetary scale were victims of one stupid person who doesn't know why a hoax is a hoax. Hoax has nothing to do with replication as a word, but that's the way it turned out today. In regards to this one email, Microsoft and America Online don't care if you are stupid enough to forward an email. And there's no remuneration involved. They want your money, they don't want to give any of it back.
One person sent this sort of email to everyone in his address book. Which replicated when the next person replied to all. And the next person replicated that. And so on. Ad nauseum.
The chain of stupidity stopped when the original sender "recalled" the email. And I'm sure he didn't do it of his own accord - his immediate supervisor might have threatened something else more immediate.
When one of these emails happens your way, reply to none.
Do us all a favor.
People are the Worst Kind
Something occurred to me Thursday, an epiphany of sorts, of why I don't care to be forced to work on, uh, things that I would rather not work on.
When you work on a PC, or a plotter, or even a coupon printer, there's a human touch involved that's part of the whole process.
What totally took me by surprise was that I realized I can't stand people without People Skills. And if you spend your whole life working on impersonal things, don't expect to be able to communicate at all well with others.
It all boils down to one thing: People are the worst kind.
[Note: This blog post is the first one to exemplify my idea of Old Man Talk. This entry came about partly from an email my cousin sent me - she sent me some examples, one of which was "People are the worst kind", something my uncle used to say. Thus Old Man Talk.]
When you work on a PC, or a plotter, or even a coupon printer, there's a human touch involved that's part of the whole process.
What totally took me by surprise was that I realized I can't stand people without People Skills. And if you spend your whole life working on impersonal things, don't expect to be able to communicate at all well with others.
It all boils down to one thing: People are the worst kind.
[Note: This blog post is the first one to exemplify my idea of Old Man Talk. This entry came about partly from an email my cousin sent me - she sent me some examples, one of which was "People are the worst kind", something my uncle used to say. Thus Old Man Talk.]
Thursday, August 28
Build a Bridge
So sayeth Diana, my good friend from high school's wife.
That's Jeff, on the left. I hadn't seen or heard from Jeff in quite some time. Measured in years. He and his wife are out to Utah for a family reunion of sorts this week.
A bit of gray, a few more pounds, but still the same Jeff.
Went up to their accommodations in Park City Tuesday night for dinner, prepared by Diana in their room.
It was good to see him after all this time. We reminisced about old times, what the years had done to us. Some moreso than others.
Jeff and I ran around with pretty much the same crowd in high school and thereafter, until I moved from California in 1986. Yes, it has been a good twenty years since we'd seen each other. He had my personal website to remember me by, I just from memories. Then a few weeks ago he found me again through a mutual acquantance. Thanks, Terri!
Another good friend will be happy to see we reconnected - Hi Lori!
Anyway, gotta get off to work this morning... we'll see more of Jeff come December when Marilee and I are off to a vacatrion in California.
Oh, and for you wordies out there - yes, there's a word farther up the page that isn't really a word, but it works in context - "moreso". For those of you who might say I've compounded the error by using it again here...
Get Over It.
That's Jeff, on the left. I hadn't seen or heard from Jeff in quite some time. Measured in years. He and his wife are out to Utah for a family reunion of sorts this week.A bit of gray, a few more pounds, but still the same Jeff.
Went up to their accommodations in Park City Tuesday night for dinner, prepared by Diana in their room.
It was good to see him after all this time. We reminisced about old times, what the years had done to us. Some moreso than others.
Jeff and I ran around with pretty much the same crowd in high school and thereafter, until I moved from California in 1986. Yes, it has been a good twenty years since we'd seen each other. He had my personal website to remember me by, I just from memories. Then a few weeks ago he found me again through a mutual acquantance. Thanks, Terri!
Another good friend will be happy to see we reconnected - Hi Lori!
Anyway, gotta get off to work this morning... we'll see more of Jeff come December when Marilee and I are off to a vacatrion in California.
Oh, and for you wordies out there - yes, there's a word farther up the page that isn't really a word, but it works in context - "moreso". For those of you who might say I've compounded the error by using it again here...
Get Over It.
Sunday, August 24
Blog Clog
Perhaps you've seen it - a MySpace page with so much, uh, stuff on it that you can't see the content. Then again, to even find a MySpace page with anything even remotely close to "content" is a feat in itself.
Me? I don't have a MySpace page. Or a Facebook page. I have a blog. A personal website, too, but we'll save that for later.
My blog is quite a spartan affair. I have a few ads so as to bring in a bit of revenue - hopefully, anyway - and a webmap of sorts so I can see where my visitors come from. And an ad for the stuff I created for myself at Cafepress.
Sure, I've been tempted to add a few "gadgets", but all they do is pull you away from the content I've so carefully put together. Like this text. And, unfortunately, click on any of those ads and you leave my content. But that's the trade-off for having ads.
There's a long held truth that a website - even a blog - should be treated like a destination, and not a stopping-off point.
So hang around for a bit, and come back often.
You won't need to search for the content - it'll be here in plain sight.
Me? I don't have a MySpace page. Or a Facebook page. I have a blog. A personal website, too, but we'll save that for later.
My blog is quite a spartan affair. I have a few ads so as to bring in a bit of revenue - hopefully, anyway - and a webmap of sorts so I can see where my visitors come from. And an ad for the stuff I created for myself at Cafepress.
Sure, I've been tempted to add a few "gadgets", but all they do is pull you away from the content I've so carefully put together. Like this text. And, unfortunately, click on any of those ads and you leave my content. But that's the trade-off for having ads.
There's a long held truth that a website - even a blog - should be treated like a destination, and not a stopping-off point.
So hang around for a bit, and come back often.
You won't need to search for the content - it'll be here in plain sight.
Three Months...
...and thirty-five thousand miles.
In the past, I'd drive the Rodeo three thousand miles in three weeks. And an oil change shortly thereafter. But since I've been driving the "company vehicle", for the first time in recorded history, three months happened first.
The Rodeo's a 2001 model; when Marilee and I bought it a year ago last March, it had 51,000 miles on it, and I drove it (well, the kids helped out a little) over 35,000 miles. In one year. It doesn't have overdrive, but you get the picture.
Now, three months after its last oil change, it has only seen 2,000 miles. Of course, the miles that would have been on the Rodeo were instead put on the POS 2005 Impala and the 2008 Silverado. And far more miles, what with a trip to Kanab, Nephi, Logan a couple times, Corrinne more than a few times, and Rowley too many times to mention.
The Silverado's OK, but I miss driving the Rodeo. It fits me better. Had a service call in Vernal yesterday and just about broke my back; it's not comfortable at all.
At least I'm not paying for the gas.
In the past, I'd drive the Rodeo three thousand miles in three weeks. And an oil change shortly thereafter. But since I've been driving the "company vehicle", for the first time in recorded history, three months happened first.
The Rodeo's a 2001 model; when Marilee and I bought it a year ago last March, it had 51,000 miles on it, and I drove it (well, the kids helped out a little) over 35,000 miles. In one year. It doesn't have overdrive, but you get the picture.
Now, three months after its last oil change, it has only seen 2,000 miles. Of course, the miles that would have been on the Rodeo were instead put on the POS 2005 Impala and the 2008 Silverado. And far more miles, what with a trip to Kanab, Nephi, Logan a couple times, Corrinne more than a few times, and Rowley too many times to mention.
The Silverado's OK, but I miss driving the Rodeo. It fits me better. Had a service call in Vernal yesterday and just about broke my back; it's not comfortable at all.
At least I'm not paying for the gas.
Thursday, August 21
Not Stirred
Just shaken.
Got into an accident today. Truck. No injuries, thankfully. But first a question: If you're in reverse, what is the effective speed? Is it negative?
Backed into another vehicle. Both he and I were under power. He at about two MPH; myself at negative two.
It was in a 7-11 parking lot - not surprising. But didn't know that if an accident like this happens on private property, the police can't give you a ticket. Fortunately for me.
I haven't been in many accidents in my life; but there was one that was quite memorable. Fun, too, in a perverse sense. You haven't lived until you've been in an accident with a police car.
I'll tell you about it sometime...
Got into an accident today. Truck. No injuries, thankfully. But first a question: If you're in reverse, what is the effective speed? Is it negative?
Backed into another vehicle. Both he and I were under power. He at about two MPH; myself at negative two.
It was in a 7-11 parking lot - not surprising. But didn't know that if an accident like this happens on private property, the police can't give you a ticket. Fortunately for me.
I haven't been in many accidents in my life; but there was one that was quite memorable. Fun, too, in a perverse sense. You haven't lived until you've been in an accident with a police car.
I'll tell you about it sometime...
Wednesday, August 20
Entomology
I so hate it when Micro$oft decides it's in the best interest of the populace that they should change something in an operating system for "security reasons".
Then they get away with calling the change as being "by design".
I recently had to "upgrade" the server the CAWS database is hosted on. Replaced it with an entirely different PC. The database app had been running on a gig of memory; that proved to be far too little for the number of animals in the database - now beyond 2,500. We're up to four gig of RAM, and a 2.4-gigahertz processor.
And an operating system change.
Was the OS change necessary? Not really, besides, everything should just fall into place once I copy everything from the old server to the new one.
Three days and some choice words later, everything has finally fallen into place.
Oh, it only took about fifteen minutes to copy everything over. The rest of the time was getting Windows XP to stop messing with my head to get the batch files to work like they had on Windows 2000.
The CAWS database server runs MySQL; the client app runs on top of Java. No, not that Java, the other Java. No, the other other Java.
It's a really neat app, don't get me wrong. It's called Animal Shelter Manager (ASM), and was written by a guy in the UK for his local animal shelter. Quite a robust app. If you're a rescue group or know of one, take a look. Oh, and the app's price is hard to beat.
So anyway, after ASM does all of its cool stuff in the background, a bunch of batch files manipulate the data to create the CAWS website and make backups of the database. And they worked pretty dang well. But on Windows XP they came to a grinding halt.
The problem for three days? Coming up with the correct keywords that would produce the correct outcome at Google. That's what it's really all about.
It boils down to this: Getting a batch file - any batch file it appears - to work in Windows XP, the user starting the job as a scheduled task cannot have a blank password.
In earlier days that would be called a "bug". Now it's called a "feature".
Then they get away with calling the change as being "by design".
I recently had to "upgrade" the server the CAWS database is hosted on. Replaced it with an entirely different PC. The database app had been running on a gig of memory; that proved to be far too little for the number of animals in the database - now beyond 2,500. We're up to four gig of RAM, and a 2.4-gigahertz processor.
And an operating system change.
Was the OS change necessary? Not really, besides, everything should just fall into place once I copy everything from the old server to the new one.
Three days and some choice words later, everything has finally fallen into place.
Oh, it only took about fifteen minutes to copy everything over. The rest of the time was getting Windows XP to stop messing with my head to get the batch files to work like they had on Windows 2000.
The CAWS database server runs MySQL; the client app runs on top of Java. No, not that Java, the other Java. No, the other other Java.
It's a really neat app, don't get me wrong. It's called Animal Shelter Manager (ASM), and was written by a guy in the UK for his local animal shelter. Quite a robust app. If you're a rescue group or know of one, take a look. Oh, and the app's price is hard to beat.
So anyway, after ASM does all of its cool stuff in the background, a bunch of batch files manipulate the data to create the CAWS website and make backups of the database. And they worked pretty dang well. But on Windows XP they came to a grinding halt.
The problem for three days? Coming up with the correct keywords that would produce the correct outcome at Google. That's what it's really all about.
It boils down to this: Getting a batch file - any batch file it appears - to work in Windows XP, the user starting the job as a scheduled task cannot have a blank password.
In earlier days that would be called a "bug". Now it's called a "feature".
Tuesday, August 19
Priceless Speed
Went to Price on a service call yesterday.
From outward appearances, it should have been a fairly quick call; of course it didn't work out that way. Thankfully it wasn't an all-nighter - it was during the day - but didn't get home until 9pm.
There's not much to look at going to or coming from Price. There's no red rock, but the beige-ish rock formations high up the canyons are a sight. That, and the giant wind turbines at the mouth of Spanish Fork canyon.
Quite uneventful otherwise, though I had a scare about halfway back from Price. A mile or so off in the distance, in twilight, I saw one of those speed signs that shows your speed. It's yellow text if you're under the speed limit, red if you're over, and...what the?
There was a damn police car off in the distance, too! Probably caught someone who was mesmerized by the technologically advancerd sign. OK, so Price isn't Podunk, but you'd think someone would have figured out this was a techy-speed trap.
I slowed way down until I was in the yellow, then got up closer to the speed sign. And started laughing hysterically.
Not only was the sign capable of displaying yellow and red, but blue as well.
Every ten seconds or so, the sign would switch out of speed mode and flash red and blue flashing lights.
Just like a police car.
From outward appearances, it should have been a fairly quick call; of course it didn't work out that way. Thankfully it wasn't an all-nighter - it was during the day - but didn't get home until 9pm.
There's not much to look at going to or coming from Price. There's no red rock, but the beige-ish rock formations high up the canyons are a sight. That, and the giant wind turbines at the mouth of Spanish Fork canyon.
Quite uneventful otherwise, though I had a scare about halfway back from Price. A mile or so off in the distance, in twilight, I saw one of those speed signs that shows your speed. It's yellow text if you're under the speed limit, red if you're over, and...what the?
There was a damn police car off in the distance, too! Probably caught someone who was mesmerized by the technologically advancerd sign. OK, so Price isn't Podunk, but you'd think someone would have figured out this was a techy-speed trap.
I slowed way down until I was in the yellow, then got up closer to the speed sign. And started laughing hysterically.
Not only was the sign capable of displaying yellow and red, but blue as well.
Every ten seconds or so, the sign would switch out of speed mode and flash red and blue flashing lights.
Just like a police car.
Sunday, August 17
Grand (Am) Savings
"Is there anything you can do about my mirror?"I'd dealt with this travesty of the auto manufacturing industry before, though most of the time the mirror itself cracks or just falls off. And the car dealer says "No, you can't replace just the mirror, you have to replace the whole $250 assembly". This particular time the flimsy plastic bosses that support the heavy mirror decided to crack at the most inopportune moment. Dangling for some time like a broken appendage, it was time to do something about it.
I'd tried using super glue and/or epoxy, but those solutions were either too messy or didn't cure quite right. This time, I decided to try a different tack - what about attaching it from the other side?
It's not pretty, but it's really sturdy. And will likely pass muster when inspection time rolls around.
"You're so smart" is all Marille said, which brought a smile to my face.
I call it inventive.
She's Got This Covered
A few months ago, on a pet food run to Petsmart, I bought the duck below for Bambi. She'd eviscerated uncounted toys in the last few years, and it was time for a new one.
Within a day, she'd bitten into the poor inanimate object and removed the squeaker, and not long after that we tossed the squeaker.
Most of the toys she'd had, she removed the squeaker, and subsequently removed all the stuffing. But not with this one. She'd left it mostly intact. Carried it around, shook it from side to side to be sure it really was dead, several times a day.
She loved that duck.
Then came Lexie.
Lexie has claimed the duck. She de-stuffed it a bit more than Bambi had, then started doing something I'd never seen a dog do with a stuffed toy - she started sucking on it. Or rather, she started suckling it. Now why she does it, well, the best reason is that she sees Bambi as a mother figure and it smells like Bambi. Or maybe that she was taken too soon from her mother. And maybe, just maybe, that duck reminds her of her mother in color.
And maybe we won't dwell on any of the reasons - we'll just stick with the fact that she's darn cute when she does it.
She's got that covered.
Within a day, she'd bitten into the poor inanimate object and removed the squeaker, and not long after that we tossed the squeaker.
Most of the toys she'd had, she removed the squeaker, and subsequently removed all the stuffing. But not with this one. She'd left it mostly intact. Carried it around, shook it from side to side to be sure it really was dead, several times a day.
She loved that duck.
Then came Lexie.
Lexie has claimed the duck. She de-stuffed it a bit more than Bambi had, then started doing something I'd never seen a dog do with a stuffed toy - she started sucking on it. Or rather, she started suckling it. Now why she does it, well, the best reason is that she sees Bambi as a mother figure and it smells like Bambi. Or maybe that she was taken too soon from her mother. And maybe, just maybe, that duck reminds her of her mother in color.And maybe we won't dwell on any of the reasons - we'll just stick with the fact that she's darn cute when she does it.
She's got that covered.
Friday, August 15
See? A Penny!
I picked up most if not all of the euphemisms I use on a regular basis from my parents and their siblings. Otherwise known as my aunts and uncles.
Though they were all different ages, they were, for all intents and purposes, from the same generation. The eldest member of the family was my aunt Loretta; she was the first born, in '03. That's 1903. Later, my Dad was born in '10. Same century as above. The youngest was my uncle Gene, born in '26. Yes, quite a spread there. Word is that my Grandfather said "It was the best afterthought we ever had".
Needless to say, I grew up with old people. I don't mean to be disrespectful by saying that, but it's the truth. But the interesting thing about growing up with all these great people, is that because they were from that generation, I was never really a part of the generation my friends were in. As an example, Marilee's Mom was 25 when she was born; my Mom was 38. Not a whole generation, mind you, but considering my Dad was 46, now that is a generation.
Early in life, I remember hearing swing music. Because that's what my parents grew up with. Even today, all the day, I enjoy listening to Tommy Dorsey as much as The Beatles.
I was lucky to have had that experience - hearing all those great sayings. The sad truth is that many of those sayings are disappearing. Words, too. The "youth" of today aren't even aware that words from earlier decades were colorful without being profane. And phrases - even rhymes - can appear in the least likeliest of places.
OK, so I've put in my two cents' worth.
Look for more Old Man Talk in the future.
Though they were all different ages, they were, for all intents and purposes, from the same generation. The eldest member of the family was my aunt Loretta; she was the first born, in '03. That's 1903. Later, my Dad was born in '10. Same century as above. The youngest was my uncle Gene, born in '26. Yes, quite a spread there. Word is that my Grandfather said "It was the best afterthought we ever had".
Needless to say, I grew up with old people. I don't mean to be disrespectful by saying that, but it's the truth. But the interesting thing about growing up with all these great people, is that because they were from that generation, I was never really a part of the generation my friends were in. As an example, Marilee's Mom was 25 when she was born; my Mom was 38. Not a whole generation, mind you, but considering my Dad was 46, now that is a generation.
Early in life, I remember hearing swing music. Because that's what my parents grew up with. Even today, all the day, I enjoy listening to Tommy Dorsey as much as The Beatles.
I was lucky to have had that experience - hearing all those great sayings. The sad truth is that many of those sayings are disappearing. Words, too. The "youth" of today aren't even aware that words from earlier decades were colorful without being profane. And phrases - even rhymes - can appear in the least likeliest of places.
OK, so I've put in my two cents' worth.
Look for more Old Man Talk in the future.
Thursday, August 14
Suffer Much
At least that's how work has made me feel lately.
As in "Not seeing any way out of this ordeal." I really miss loving my job. Actually looking forward to a day working on the stuff I've worked on for thirty-plus years. In fact, I've been saying "Suffer Much" quite a bit lately.
Try it yourself, just don't say "Suffer Much" out loud - look in a mirror and just "lip-sync" the words.
You may just start saying "Suffer Much" yourself.
As in "Not seeing any way out of this ordeal." I really miss loving my job. Actually looking forward to a day working on the stuff I've worked on for thirty-plus years. In fact, I've been saying "Suffer Much" quite a bit lately.
Try it yourself, just don't say "Suffer Much" out loud - look in a mirror and just "lip-sync" the words.
You may just start saying "Suffer Much" yourself.
Swearing, Bible Belt Style
Saturday morning, I was ordering some parts from the night before. Actually, since I got done at 1am Saturday, it really was later that morning when I ordered them.
I'd never ordered parts on a Saturday, so was a little unsure of exactly how to do it. Thankfully, the lady that answered the phone was kind enough to talk me through it. But by the time we got to the "Where do you want it shipped?" question, I was starting to wonder about the other part, and said just that.
"Do you want to know about the other part?"
I'd heard the reply in the movie Doc Hollywood, when Dr. Stone (played by Michael J. Fox) had been arrested for various violations - he got a warning from the arresting officer. "Son, you're in the middle of the Bible Belt, you better watch what you say."
OK, I've dropped my share of F-bombs and a few carefully placed BM bombs in my day, but when Dr. Stone let his bomb fly, I was on the floor with laughter. Even more so when I was on the phone with the part-ordering lady.
After realizing that, yes, I needed another part, she hissed "Sshhhhhhhhhhi... ure."
I'd never ordered parts on a Saturday, so was a little unsure of exactly how to do it. Thankfully, the lady that answered the phone was kind enough to talk me through it. But by the time we got to the "Where do you want it shipped?" question, I was starting to wonder about the other part, and said just that.
"Do you want to know about the other part?"
I'd heard the reply in the movie Doc Hollywood, when Dr. Stone (played by Michael J. Fox) had been arrested for various violations - he got a warning from the arresting officer. "Son, you're in the middle of the Bible Belt, you better watch what you say."
OK, I've dropped my share of F-bombs and a few carefully placed BM bombs in my day, but when Dr. Stone let his bomb fly, I was on the floor with laughter. Even more so when I was on the phone with the part-ordering lady.
After realizing that, yes, I needed another part, she hissed "Sshhhhhhhhhhi... ure."
Zefram Cochrane Would Be So Proud
Last Christmas I got something I'd seen in catalogs for decades. I got a Radiometer.What's that, you say? You've probably seen them, too, just never occurred to you that it'd be a blast to have one. All you do is shine a flashlight on one and it spins. Put it on a windowsill and it'll spin even faster. Put it outdoors and it'll spin frantically.
Looks like free energy - so much so that you'd wonder why there aren't Radiometer farms all over creation, and they'd be a lot less intrusive and/or ugly than a windmill.
But wait, there's more.
I'd had my little Radiometer on the windowsill in the kitchen since December. All winter, through spring, and now in the heat of summer. Spinning most of the time, not so much at night as you'd expect, less so on cloudy days, and on those days when the air conditioning was putting out a bit too much cold, it... I'll let that slide for right now.
Last week, I decided to blog about my little Radiometer. But I wanted to get the story right. Googled it, I did. And stopped. Surely not...
Apparently, Radiometers have been around for far longer than I had thought - since 1892 when the first one was created by William Crookes. Scientific explanations abound as to how a Radiometer works; one such explanation is at the Naked Science Forum. Take a read of that then come back here. I'll wait...
So it's light energy, right? Photons and such. Sounds legit, right?
Going further into my googling, I found an experiment that made sense, and was easy to replicate - don't allow the Radiometer to get (much) light, and just wrap your hands around the globe. With the Radiometer vanes not spinning, nothing should have happened, or so I thought. With just the warmth of my hands, the vanes started spinning. Light? No, radiated heat!
A second experiment made me stop dead in my tracks. If the thing spins not because of light energy, but from heat, then what should happen if you you put a Radiometer in a dark environment, particularly in a freezer?
There will be a quiz.
Wednesday, August 13
Stomachs and Elbows Turn at the Olympics
After finding the goose egg on my knee today, and the hurl rising in my esophagus, it's not surprising that I felt the same thing when I saw Hungarian weightlifter Janos Baranyai's painful ordeal during the weightlifting competition in the Olympics.
Little did I know that staying home from work would reveal such a spectacle for such a great athlete. Imagine how you'd react if it were you, of if you had been in the audience.
[Warning: Graphic video not for the faint of heart. Or stomach.]
Please note - originally in this space I had a YouTube video of Janos Baranyai's oh-so-painful elbow dislocation from the weightlifting competition during the Olympics. After finding the first video had been pulled from YouTube, I then found another. And it was pulled as well.
The video is still painful to watch; if you'd like, google his name and you're bound to find a copy of it.
Little did I know that staying home from work would reveal such a spectacle for such a great athlete. Imagine how you'd react if it were you, of if you had been in the audience.
[Warning: Graphic video not for the faint of heart. Or stomach.]
Please note - originally in this space I had a YouTube video of Janos Baranyai's oh-so-painful elbow dislocation from the weightlifting competition during the Olympics. After finding the first video had been pulled from YouTube, I then found another. And it was pulled as well.
The video is still painful to watch; if you'd like, google his name and you're bound to find a copy of it.
Beach Volleyball at the Olympics
Today we have a "sort of" guest blogger here with her own style of brilliantly stimulating commentary:
"Bob and I are watching the women's Beach Volleyball competition tonight. Last night, we watched the men's competition. And I have a simple question: Why do the female players wear such skimpy attire when the guys get to wear baggy pants and shirts? Seems a bit sexist, don't you think?"
I plead the fifth.
"Bob and I are watching the women's Beach Volleyball competition tonight. Last night, we watched the men's competition. And I have a simple question: Why do the female players wear such skimpy attire when the guys get to wear baggy pants and shirts? Seems a bit sexist, don't you think?"
I plead the fifth.
The Anvil Chorus Would Have Been Quieter
Midnight or so in the household. And Lexie is having another whining session.
Little dogs. Love 'em or hate 'em. Lexie has that little dog voice that you either think is adorable or downright irritating. At midnight, it's the latter.
Lately, Marilee and I have been taking turns letting Lexie out at these times. My turn last night. Got back into bed afterwards; no sooner had I rolled over that the whining commenced anew. I vaguely remember saying out loud "Maybe she's hungry."
A few minutes later (or so it seemed), Princess started snoring. Loud. Peeved now, I jump out of bed, sweared a few choice words, added "I'm sleeping downstairs!", and as I come to a sudden stop, my left leg slides out from underneath me, and land on my right knee. Thankfully on the carpet, but still. No, nothing snapped, there were no cracking sounds, but I realized something below my right knee was aching.
Racing downstairs so as to sleep on the couch, with Princess not far behind, I realize that somehow Lexie is also now downstairs, and Marilee is down there, too.
"How'd you get down here?" to no one in particular, and Marilee says "You were right, she was hungry." "How long ago..." not believing it was any more than a few seconds "...did I say that?" "Maybe 10-15 minutes. I decided to come down here with Lexie and Bambi."
OK, so now I'm not only losing my mind, but also any semblance of elapsed time. "Go back upstairs to bed." So I did. And promptly forgot about my bum knee.
Morning came, and though my knee hurt, it wasn't debilitating - I could put weight on my leg - it wasn't really throbbing, but it let me know that it was there.
I had a few extra minutes this morning, so took the extra time to clean out the back of the truck for a bit. And did something that all but made me scream in agony - I crawled into the truck bed and promptly landed on my knee.
My hand flew to the affected area and just about hurled - I now had a knot the size of a goose egg just below my right knee cap.
"This is NOT good." I thought.
I promptly put off my first call of the day and, after letting necessary folks know I wasn't going to be "in" for a bit, went directly to the Instacare.
Patellar Bursitis is what the doctor said.
After an anti-inflammatory shot and a likewise prescription, I'm staying home today, doctor's note included at no extra charge.
And it figures that now it's as quiet as can be. Maybe even reclaim all that sleep I lost last night.
Little dogs. Love 'em or hate 'em. Lexie has that little dog voice that you either think is adorable or downright irritating. At midnight, it's the latter.
Lately, Marilee and I have been taking turns letting Lexie out at these times. My turn last night. Got back into bed afterwards; no sooner had I rolled over that the whining commenced anew. I vaguely remember saying out loud "Maybe she's hungry."
A few minutes later (or so it seemed), Princess started snoring. Loud. Peeved now, I jump out of bed, sweared a few choice words, added "I'm sleeping downstairs!", and as I come to a sudden stop, my left leg slides out from underneath me, and land on my right knee. Thankfully on the carpet, but still. No, nothing snapped, there were no cracking sounds, but I realized something below my right knee was aching.
Racing downstairs so as to sleep on the couch, with Princess not far behind, I realize that somehow Lexie is also now downstairs, and Marilee is down there, too.
"How'd you get down here?" to no one in particular, and Marilee says "You were right, she was hungry." "How long ago..." not believing it was any more than a few seconds "...did I say that?" "Maybe 10-15 minutes. I decided to come down here with Lexie and Bambi."
OK, so now I'm not only losing my mind, but also any semblance of elapsed time. "Go back upstairs to bed." So I did. And promptly forgot about my bum knee.
Morning came, and though my knee hurt, it wasn't debilitating - I could put weight on my leg - it wasn't really throbbing, but it let me know that it was there.
I had a few extra minutes this morning, so took the extra time to clean out the back of the truck for a bit. And did something that all but made me scream in agony - I crawled into the truck bed and promptly landed on my knee.
My hand flew to the affected area and just about hurled - I now had a knot the size of a goose egg just below my right knee cap.
"This is NOT good." I thought.
I promptly put off my first call of the day and, after letting necessary folks know I wasn't going to be "in" for a bit, went directly to the Instacare.
Patellar Bursitis is what the doctor said.
After an anti-inflammatory shot and a likewise prescription, I'm staying home today, doctor's note included at no extra charge.
And it figures that now it's as quiet as can be. Maybe even reclaim all that sleep I lost last night.
Unclear on the Concept
Wished I'd had a camera - there was one available - but it would have been rude.
So I'm at the aforementioned megastore yesterday where I installed the 32 coupon printers last week. And I needed to get some serial numbers off the self-scan printers. Off to the left I see someone using one of the terminals, and though I tried not to stare, and for that matter kept myself from snickering, I got the numbers I needed and promptly left the store.
I'd never really liked using self-scan terminals at the grocery store. When I go to a grocery store, I like the one-on-one you get from the checker. After all, their salary is what you're helping to pay for just by buying stuff in the store. Of course, you're also helping to pay for the satanic self-scan terminals, too, but I'd rather have the personal touch.
(Note that this doesn't mean I'd rather go into a bank during banking hours to get cash - for that I'd rather use an ATM. It's different.)
Take for example the clientèle that uses the things. Next time you're at Smith's or Albertsons, watch them for a while. Some folks are experts, but a few are either pissed because there aren't enough checkers, or have only a single item that can't wait for a traditional register.
And then there are a few who haven't quite got the concept.
Years ago when CD-ROM technology was in its infancy, it was suggested that the laser should point down so as to not shine into the eyes of the user. Hell, an early Popular Electronics article showed a laser pointing at the platen of a traditional daisy wheel printer. Made it look as if the image was being burned onto the paper. Such was the fear of many as to the concept of laser printing and the technology. Takes the term burning to a whole new level.
Nowadays, we all know the laser on a laser scanner points up, to scan the item being passed over it. And it's a non-destructive laser, not the kind a la James Bond in Goldfinger.
OK, I'm not a spring chicken. And I have to catch myself sometimes when I refer to people as being older. But this one senior citizen is at a self-scan while I'm getting my serial numbers. And she's scanning her items with the bar codes facing skyward.
Normally, the checker (read "sitter") over the self-scans would pick up on this type of error - there's a camera mounted above the scanner - but the sitter was counting money at the time. Don't know how long the poor soul stood there or even if someone came to her rescue. I could have helped her, but it really wasn't my place.
Maybe it really was her first time with a self-scan, or maybe she was doing it that way on purpose so as to get someone to help. In any case, self-scans are only for those who are comfortable using them.
For me, I'll stick to the personal approach.
"Did you find everything you came in for?"
So I'm at the aforementioned megastore yesterday where I installed the 32 coupon printers last week. And I needed to get some serial numbers off the self-scan printers. Off to the left I see someone using one of the terminals, and though I tried not to stare, and for that matter kept myself from snickering, I got the numbers I needed and promptly left the store.
I'd never really liked using self-scan terminals at the grocery store. When I go to a grocery store, I like the one-on-one you get from the checker. After all, their salary is what you're helping to pay for just by buying stuff in the store. Of course, you're also helping to pay for the satanic self-scan terminals, too, but I'd rather have the personal touch.
(Note that this doesn't mean I'd rather go into a bank during banking hours to get cash - for that I'd rather use an ATM. It's different.)
Take for example the clientèle that uses the things. Next time you're at Smith's or Albertsons, watch them for a while. Some folks are experts, but a few are either pissed because there aren't enough checkers, or have only a single item that can't wait for a traditional register.
And then there are a few who haven't quite got the concept.
Years ago when CD-ROM technology was in its infancy, it was suggested that the laser should point down so as to not shine into the eyes of the user. Hell, an early Popular Electronics article showed a laser pointing at the platen of a traditional daisy wheel printer. Made it look as if the image was being burned onto the paper. Such was the fear of many as to the concept of laser printing and the technology. Takes the term burning to a whole new level.
Nowadays, we all know the laser on a laser scanner points up, to scan the item being passed over it. And it's a non-destructive laser, not the kind a la James Bond in Goldfinger.
OK, I'm not a spring chicken. And I have to catch myself sometimes when I refer to people as being older. But this one senior citizen is at a self-scan while I'm getting my serial numbers. And she's scanning her items with the bar codes facing skyward.
Normally, the checker (read "sitter") over the self-scans would pick up on this type of error - there's a camera mounted above the scanner - but the sitter was counting money at the time. Don't know how long the poor soul stood there or even if someone came to her rescue. I could have helped her, but it really wasn't my place.
Maybe it really was her first time with a self-scan, or maybe she was doing it that way on purpose so as to get someone to help. In any case, self-scans are only for those who are comfortable using them.
For me, I'll stick to the personal approach.
"Did you find everything you came in for?"
Tuesday, August 12
Optical Delusions
Just had to share - one of my favorite optical illusions: Are the colors in the A and B squares the same or different?
Marilee took a look and said they're different. Chris happened to be here, so I decided a little Photoshop would settle the dispute. Drew a gray line from A to B then from B to A; Marilee still wasn't impressed. Or swayed.
So are they the same or different?
Same.
Weird.
Marilee took a look and said they're different. Chris happened to be here, so I decided a little Photoshop would settle the dispute. Drew a gray line from A to B then from B to A; Marilee still wasn't impressed. Or swayed.So are they the same or different?
Same.Weird.
Monday, August 11
Anti-Social Behavior
Somewhere, right now, someone is giving out their SSN. And they're giving it out, speaking it, in some fairly public place, after having also supplied their name, also spoken. And what's wrong with that?
Jeez - you have to ask?
When I first arrived in Utah 21 years ago, I didn't have a job. Yes, hindsight is always 20/20. Even this late in life, I don't suggest going that route.
I admitted defeat at about the end of month #1, and went to the unemployment office. When the young lady behind the counter said "watsyursoshul", I said "My What?"
Suddenly the already dour expression on the lady's face turned to shock, amazement, and something akin to "Have you been under a rock?"
"Don't you have a Social Security Number?!?"
"Yes, I do. But I don't have a 'Social'."
Come on, all you people who work in State and Federal governments. Even (some of) you who work in Healthcare. Not all of we John Q. Public's have been giving out our SSN's to the extent that you need to abbreviate something that, God forbid, already has an acronym.
If you want to know my Social Security Number, then ask for my Social Security Number.
Whether I actually give it to you is another matter.
Jeez - you have to ask?
When I first arrived in Utah 21 years ago, I didn't have a job. Yes, hindsight is always 20/20. Even this late in life, I don't suggest going that route.
I admitted defeat at about the end of month #1, and went to the unemployment office. When the young lady behind the counter said "watsyursoshul", I said "My What?"
Suddenly the already dour expression on the lady's face turned to shock, amazement, and something akin to "Have you been under a rock?"
"Don't you have a Social Security Number?!?"
"Yes, I do. But I don't have a 'Social'."
Come on, all you people who work in State and Federal governments. Even (some of) you who work in Healthcare. Not all of we John Q. Public's have been giving out our SSN's to the extent that you need to abbreviate something that, God forbid, already has an acronym.
If you want to know my Social Security Number, then ask for my Social Security Number.
Whether I actually give it to you is another matter.
Majuscular Objects
OK, here's an easy-to-figure-out quiz - and you have a 50-50 chance of getting the answer right just by guessing: Is Salt Lake City the capital of Utah or is it the capitol?
The capital of Utah IS Salt Lake City. The building on the hill is the Capitol.
And Capitol is capitalized.
And so is the word Dumpster. Why? It's a trademarked name. Who would have thought that?
And who cares? just leave out a capital in a term paper and you'll see who.
Other less-than-obvious capitalized names run the gamut - for example, folks who deal in real estate are real estate agents, and become Realtors when then become members of the National Association of Realtors.
Any good style guide will tell you when it is appropriate to use capital letters. One such example is at Connecticut's Community Colleges' web site.
Good style is a capital idea.
The capital of Utah IS Salt Lake City. The building on the hill is the Capitol.
And Capitol is capitalized.
And so is the word Dumpster. Why? It's a trademarked name. Who would have thought that?
And who cares? just leave out a capital in a term paper and you'll see who.
Other less-than-obvious capitalized names run the gamut - for example, folks who deal in real estate are real estate agents, and become Realtors when then become members of the National Association of Realtors.
Any good style guide will tell you when it is appropriate to use capital letters. One such example is at Connecticut's Community Colleges' web site.
Good style is a capital idea.
Green Green Grass of Home
"Hey Bob... what's s going on with the new sprinklers?"
Back in Journalism class with Mrs. Schreiber, occasionally an assignment would be to gather comments about some issue or other. "Here, Bob, read this out loud." After reading it out loud, she'd ask "May I quote you on that?"
OK, so the ethics of that sort of thing in today's world boggles your mind. Or it's live on Fox.
No one actually asked me how the sprinklers are doing. They're doing fine, thank you very much.
Dave at work commented that a problem with having an operational sprinkler system is that the grass grows better and hence requires that much more mowing.
We've been careful not to disturb the sprinkler heads, though the company that installed them said that would be no problem. And since half of the tree from a couple weeks ago was blocking the shed in which the mower was contained, the grass has been un-cut for more than a likewise long time.
Or laziness. Not sure which.
Anyway, there's a jungle of grass out there, and the weeds are doing really well.
Back in Journalism class with Mrs. Schreiber, occasionally an assignment would be to gather comments about some issue or other. "Here, Bob, read this out loud." After reading it out loud, she'd ask "May I quote you on that?"
OK, so the ethics of that sort of thing in today's world boggles your mind. Or it's live on Fox.
No one actually asked me how the sprinklers are doing. They're doing fine, thank you very much.
Dave at work commented that a problem with having an operational sprinkler system is that the grass grows better and hence requires that much more mowing.
We've been careful not to disturb the sprinkler heads, though the company that installed them said that would be no problem. And since half of the tree from a couple weeks ago was blocking the shed in which the mower was contained, the grass has been un-cut for more than a likewise long time.
Or laziness. Not sure which.
Anyway, there's a jungle of grass out there, and the weeds are doing really well.
Sunday, August 10
New Family Member
Meet Lexie!
As has become customary, Lexie is a Silky Terrier and Cairn Terrier mix.
The details:
Lexie is most definitely Marilee's dog, though she has an obvious like for me, too. In fact, she slept next to my head Saturday night. Likely since Bambi slept attached to Marilee's side all night.
We've had conflicts of course - Lexie hasn't yet had to deal (much) with Sundance, though Lexie being so aerodynamic, can hurdle the baby gate into Sundance's loft. And at one point Saturday morning, Sundance jumped over and past Lexie.
Bambi is having the most trouble with Lexie, since Bambi had been getting major lovin's from Marilee since Snickers left the fold.
Princess, not so much. Within moments of Lexie coming home last Wednesday, Princess got a major snort of Lexie and that was that.
Lexie is about a year and a half old, needs to put on a little weight, and is a perfect match for the family.
And Marilee.
As has become customary, Lexie is a Silky Terrier and Cairn Terrier mix.The details:
Lexie is most definitely Marilee's dog, though she has an obvious like for me, too. In fact, she slept next to my head Saturday night. Likely since Bambi slept attached to Marilee's side all night.
We've had conflicts of course - Lexie hasn't yet had to deal (much) with Sundance, though Lexie being so aerodynamic, can hurdle the baby gate into Sundance's loft. And at one point Saturday morning, Sundance jumped over and past Lexie.
Bambi is having the most trouble with Lexie, since Bambi had been getting major lovin's from Marilee since Snickers left the fold.
Princess, not so much. Within moments of Lexie coming home last Wednesday, Princess got a major snort of Lexie and that was that.
Lexie is about a year and a half old, needs to put on a little weight, and is a perfect match for the family.
And Marilee.
Saturday, August 9
Triple Threat
OK, Jenn, here we go!
Jenn,Marilee's my daughter, has tagged me to come up with three joys, fears, goals, obsessions, and random facts. While I don't mind a challenge, this is interesting, since it delves rather deep in my psyche.
In no particular order:
3 Goals:
Becoming a Professional Photographer.
Finding a job I love. Again.
Having a gi-normous family reunion, getting all the satellite families back together. California, Nevada, Arizona, Montana, and Utah.
3 Joys:
My extended family.
Seeing all the dogs stampeding toward me when I get home from a bad day at work.
My best friend EVER, Marilee.
3 Fears:
When BabyDoll leaves. Expect me to be a miserable wreck for some time afterwards. She is, after all, nineteen years old, and she's been a good friend for eighteen.
Money. No, really.
Being homeless.
3 Obsessions:
Not leaving for work in the morning or before going to bed without kissing Marilee. On the lips.
Photojournalism. I would have said writing and photography, but they're really intertwined.
Not being able to ever delete an email or photograph.
3 Random Facts:
Marilee and I met online, lived within only five miles of each other when we met, and within a city or two when we each lived in California.
I've worked in the electronics and computers field for thirty-two years, even before it was cool.
My family tree goes back to 1512 on my Mother's side.
Chris - tag, you're it. It's bound to be delightful.
Jenn,
In no particular order:
3 Goals:
Becoming a Professional Photographer.
Finding a job I love. Again.
Having a gi-normous family reunion, getting all the satellite families back together. California, Nevada, Arizona, Montana, and Utah.
3 Joys:
My extended family.
Seeing all the dogs stampeding toward me when I get home from a bad day at work.
My best friend EVER, Marilee.
3 Fears:
When BabyDoll leaves. Expect me to be a miserable wreck for some time afterwards. She is, after all, nineteen years old, and she's been a good friend for eighteen.
Money. No, really.
Being homeless.
3 Obsessions:
Not leaving for work in the morning or before going to bed without kissing Marilee. On the lips.
Photojournalism. I would have said writing and photography, but they're really intertwined.
Not being able to ever delete an email or photograph.
3 Random Facts:
Marilee and I met online, lived within only five miles of each other when we met, and within a city or two when we each lived in California.
I've worked in the electronics and computers field for thirty-two years, even before it was cool.
My family tree goes back to 1512 on my Mother's side.
Chris - tag, you're it. It's bound to be delightful.
Friday, August 8
Teetotaler (n)
Brilliantly stimulating conversation with Dave and Merlin yesterday (Merlin's our new hire to take the load off Dave and I). Got around to that fact that I don't imbibe during the week I'm on call, in case I have an after-hours service call. The Guinness has to wait until Monday.
I knew that Dave partakes of the juice occasionally, but didn't know much about Merlin. And proceeded to ask if he were a teetotaler.
"Yeah, I drink tea."
"No, a teetotaler means..."
I stopped right there. "You've never heard the word teetotaler?"
Suffice to say he never had. Later in the day, I mentioned this to one of our dispatchers, and HE had never heard the word either. Says I "Yeah. I guess there really is "Old Man Talk". Dispatcher: "I was going to say it sounded like an older generation kind of word."
Get off my lawn, dammit!
I knew that Dave partakes of the juice occasionally, but didn't know much about Merlin. And proceeded to ask if he were a teetotaler.
"Yeah, I drink tea."
"No, a teetotaler means..."
I stopped right there. "You've never heard the word teetotaler?"
Suffice to say he never had. Later in the day, I mentioned this to one of our dispatchers, and HE had never heard the word either. Says I "Yeah. I guess there really is "Old Man Talk". Dispatcher: "I was going to say it sounded like an older generation kind of word."
Get off my lawn, dammit!
Thursday, August 7
Just Because You Can...
...doesn't mean you should.
I admit I'm no fashion plate. Nor am I one to criticize anyone's attire. I'll make comments watching HSN and QVC with Marilee, but keep my mouth shut when appropriate.
I'm not stupid.
I spent the last two days installing 32 coupon printers at a downtown store. Tedious and tiresome come to mind, but as one person I commented to said, "You're getting paid for all that exercise, and it's cheaper than going to the gym."
OK, so maybe there is a silver lining. And the store was air conditioned; I didn't need (or want) to go outside, if only for a part.
So it's summer, and you'd think folks would take a long, hard look at themselves before they go out in this weather. Some look like they burn easily, others not so much, but it became readily apparent that some of these folks never go outside. Or have a usable mirror.
So I'll say this as gently as possible:
Tube tops don't work on every body.
{shudder}
I admit I'm no fashion plate. Nor am I one to criticize anyone's attire. I'll make comments watching HSN and QVC with Marilee, but keep my mouth shut when appropriate.
I'm not stupid.
I spent the last two days installing 32 coupon printers at a downtown store. Tedious and tiresome come to mind, but as one person I commented to said, "You're getting paid for all that exercise, and it's cheaper than going to the gym."
OK, so maybe there is a silver lining. And the store was air conditioned; I didn't need (or want) to go outside, if only for a part.
So it's summer, and you'd think folks would take a long, hard look at themselves before they go out in this weather. Some look like they burn easily, others not so much, but it became readily apparent that some of these folks never go outside. Or have a usable mirror.
So I'll say this as gently as possible:
Tube tops don't work on every body.
{shudder}
Tuesday, August 5
Weather or Not
Here in Utah, we're in that hotter 'n blazes time of the year. I don't have any issues with hot days, just that there are so many of them. I really do like the changing seasons, and can't wait until Autumn. Why? It'll get cooler, that's why.
Lately the crickets in the back yard have been chirping like crazy, but not as much as the lone cricket I heard in Phoenix last year at Sky Harbor Airport. Yes, a cricket. Not in a bush, but somewhere near an exit. Why was he chirping like crazy? He was looking for a mate. Fat chance.
There's an old wive's tale [is the tale old, or were these created by old wives?] that says the earlier in summer you hear crickets chirping the more likely winter will be here sooner. I don't know about that, but I do know you can tell the current temperature by counting the number of chirps. Here's how:
1. Count the number of chirps in 15 seconds
2. Add 37
That's it. The result will be an approximation of the outside temperature in degrees Fahrenheit. And, yes, I suppose that if a cricket gets in your house, then it will chirp the indoor temperature.
Oh, and for those of you across the pond:
1. Number of chirps in 25 seconds
2. Divide the number by 3
3. Add 4
(I just knew metric would be harder)
So there you have it. Just get a few crickets and a Weather Rock and you can be as accurate as the Weather Channel!
Lately the crickets in the back yard have been chirping like crazy, but not as much as the lone cricket I heard in Phoenix last year at Sky Harbor Airport. Yes, a cricket. Not in a bush, but somewhere near an exit. Why was he chirping like crazy? He was looking for a mate. Fat chance.
There's an old wive's tale [is the tale old, or were these created by old wives?] that says the earlier in summer you hear crickets chirping the more likely winter will be here sooner. I don't know about that, but I do know you can tell the current temperature by counting the number of chirps. Here's how:
1. Count the number of chirps in 15 seconds
2. Add 37
That's it. The result will be an approximation of the outside temperature in degrees Fahrenheit. And, yes, I suppose that if a cricket gets in your house, then it will chirp the indoor temperature.
Oh, and for those of you across the pond:
1. Number of chirps in 25 seconds
2. Divide the number by 3
3. Add 4
(I just knew metric would be harder)
So there you have it. Just get a few crickets and a Weather Rock and you can be as accurate as the Weather Channel!
Monday, August 4
Slam Dunk
Sometimes I wonder if I lived a sheltered childhood. Food-wise, anyway.
For example, I don't ever recall having a grilled cheese sandwich at home. Maybe one or two at a friend's house or in a restaurant, but never at home.
And it was always cookies and milk, not cookies in milk. And I remember macaroni and cheese but couldn't tell you if it was in a blue box.
And here, many years later, even after being a bachelor for so many years, I only recently learned the joy of dunking Chips Ahoy IN milk. Marilee showed me.
And while I didn't remember grilled cheese sandwiches all that much, now that I've learned how to make them, I'm the family grilled cheese sandwich maker.
Who woulda thunk?
For example, I don't ever recall having a grilled cheese sandwich at home. Maybe one or two at a friend's house or in a restaurant, but never at home.
And it was always cookies and milk, not cookies in milk. And I remember macaroni and cheese but couldn't tell you if it was in a blue box.
And here, many years later, even after being a bachelor for so many years, I only recently learned the joy of dunking Chips Ahoy IN milk. Marilee showed me.
And while I didn't remember grilled cheese sandwiches all that much, now that I've learned how to make them, I'm the family grilled cheese sandwich maker.
Who woulda thunk?
Sunday, August 3
Surpie Stuff
OK, folks, you have to think back on this one. Way back. Like the 60's and 70's.
Way back Middle-America.
Remember mail order? You know, pre e-commerce. When everyone ordered stuff from a catalog. Via the postal service. No overnight delivery. Parcel Post if you were lucky.
My favorite was Sunset House. Weird stuff. They even called their stuff "The most unusual gifts in the world."
My how times have changed. Nowadays, weird can be found by simply googling "weird gifts". Try it. Hope you have safe search turned on.
But if you want safe, there's a real life catalog available from an über-cool website called American Science and Surplus. AS&S for short. All the weird stuff you might remember from Sunset House and then some.
No, I don't get kickbacks from their website. There's no affiliate program. Doesn't matter.
But fair warning - they've got hundreds of great items for next to nothing. Their website is one of the greatest time-wasters on the web.
Really - you need to visit.
Way back Middle-America.
Remember mail order? You know, pre e-commerce. When everyone ordered stuff from a catalog. Via the postal service. No overnight delivery. Parcel Post if you were lucky.
My favorite was Sunset House. Weird stuff. They even called their stuff "The most unusual gifts in the world."
My how times have changed. Nowadays, weird can be found by simply googling "weird gifts". Try it. Hope you have safe search turned on.
But if you want safe, there's a real life catalog available from an über-cool website called American Science and Surplus. AS&S for short. All the weird stuff you might remember from Sunset House and then some.No, I don't get kickbacks from their website. There's no affiliate program. Doesn't matter.
But fair warning - they've got hundreds of great items for next to nothing. Their website is one of the greatest time-wasters on the web.
Really - you need to visit.
Saturday, August 2
The Earth and the Moon
From earlier this week, NASA's Earth Observatory posted one of the most awesome videos I've ever seen. Honestly, I think it's right up there with that first Earthrise photo during the Apollo program.
In the entry on their website, the following image shows the transit of the Moon across the surface of the Earth. The video, on the other hand, is worth saving.
You'll want to tell all your friends about this one.
In the entry on their website, the following image shows the transit of the Moon across the surface of the Earth. The video, on the other hand, is worth saving.
You'll want to tell all your friends about this one.
Yard Sailing
Marilee and I decided early on this morning to hit a few yard sales. Funny thing, yard sales - I'd never heard the term until I moved to Utah. They're garage sales in California.
Generally, we never look in the classifieds for yard sales; just drive around, and you're likely to find more sales than you can find in the paper. But since the News has been dropping off a daily paper for us even though we never asked for it, we figured why not take a look.
Well, what a surprise to find not only a list of sales, but a map to boot! Looked like a "Map to the Stars' Homes" sort of touristy thing you'd get in Hollywood or Beverly Hills. Marked with dots, every sale in the valley was clearly marked.
On the map anyway. I almost get the impression that people who put on yard sales have never tried to find one themselves. Folks, taping a white 4x6 index card written in ball-point pen to a telephone pole is not only not visible to someone driving 25 miles an hour - if that's the only sign you put up, don't expect anyone to visit your yard. Or garage.
Someone should write a book.
Hmmmm....
Generally, we never look in the classifieds for yard sales; just drive around, and you're likely to find more sales than you can find in the paper. But since the News has been dropping off a daily paper for us even though we never asked for it, we figured why not take a look.
Well, what a surprise to find not only a list of sales, but a map to boot! Looked like a "Map to the Stars' Homes" sort of touristy thing you'd get in Hollywood or Beverly Hills. Marked with dots, every sale in the valley was clearly marked.
On the map anyway. I almost get the impression that people who put on yard sales have never tried to find one themselves. Folks, taping a white 4x6 index card written in ball-point pen to a telephone pole is not only not visible to someone driving 25 miles an hour - if that's the only sign you put up, don't expect anyone to visit your yard. Or garage.
Someone should write a book.
Hmmmm....
The Other Ninety Percent
Dave (from the "office") and I were having a brilliantly stimulating conversation yesterday on our cell phones. After discussing all the "paperwork" we do - it's all electronic nowadays - I mentioned that all I want to do is fix the stuff. He then made a comment that sent me into an uncontrolled guffaw attack that I'm still reeling from.
"And the other 90% we're shoveling it."
"And the other 90% we're shoveling it."
Friday, August 1
BM's and AMD's
Years ago, IBM used acronyms for everything, even when there were industry-standard names for the same things.
Of course, IBM isn't alone in this; even today, if you're talking communications protocols, ATM doesn't mean Automated Teller Machine, it's asynchronous transfer mode.
For that matter, an SST is a supersonic transport, or, conveniently, a self- service terminal like an ATM.
So IBM came up with an acronym for a fan. Yes, a fan. Already three characters, but IBM chose to call a fan an AMD. An Air Movement Device.
And though excrement can be referred to as [expletive deleted], it's also known as BM, or bowel movement.
So when something really goes awry, you can bet the BM will hit the AMD!
Of course, IBM isn't alone in this; even today, if you're talking communications protocols, ATM doesn't mean Automated Teller Machine, it's asynchronous transfer mode.
For that matter, an SST is a supersonic transport, or, conveniently, a self- service terminal like an ATM.
So IBM came up with an acronym for a fan. Yes, a fan. Already three characters, but IBM chose to call a fan an AMD. An Air Movement Device.
And though excrement can be referred to as [expletive deleted], it's also known as BM, or bowel movement.
So when something really goes awry, you can bet the BM will hit the AMD!
Keeping Focused
After the Olympus died a year or so ago, I put a lot of the photos I'd taken up until then out of my mind. I found them again last night and shared them for the first time with Marilee.
That's one of the problems I have with having a digital camera. I take lots of photos, since I don't settle. As I've said before, you should take enough photos until you're assured you haven't missed THE photo. The photo of Belle a week or so ago proves that point.
Above is Sundance, Marilee's cat. Yes, I know it's out of focus. Like it matters. Should I have deleted it immediately? Probably. But after Marilee saw it, her "I want that!" remark caught me off guard.
Went to a Popular Photography seminar a few years ago; one of the speakers was a photojournalist who explained what the difference is between a professional photographer and an amateur - the pro's trash can is larger.
A dumpster should do...
That's one of the problems I have with having a digital camera. I take lots of photos, since I don't settle. As I've said before, you should take enough photos until you're assured you haven't missed THE photo. The photo of Belle a week or so ago proves that point.
Above is Sundance, Marilee's cat. Yes, I know it's out of focus. Like it matters. Should I have deleted it immediately? Probably. But after Marilee saw it, her "I want that!" remark caught me off guard.Went to a Popular Photography seminar a few years ago; one of the speakers was a photojournalist who explained what the difference is between a professional photographer and an amateur - the pro's trash can is larger.
A dumpster should do...
It's Right Outside
...but I don't love it.
Jenn and Ramin just got a new truck; I picked mine up yesterday!
It's a 2008 Chevy Silverado 1500. Awesome gas guzzler! Took it to a gas station right away and proceeded to pump $100 of gas. Not that I wanted to check the efficiency of the gas pump - it was accurate - but because that's the limit on the corporate credit card. And at 24 gallons, it turns out it has even more capacity.
OK, so it's my permanent company vehicle. I'd show a picture, but it has this logo on the side, and I'm not willing to divulge that.
Never driven something this big on a regular basis. I tower over cars sitting next to me. It's a bit daunting. And I abhor not being able to see out the sides or the rear. The hard shell top does have windows, but not the same.
Anywho, if you see a white Silverado pickup going down the road with a driver who looks totally out-of-place driving a huge pickup, it just may be me.
Keep on Truckin'...
Jenn and Ramin just got a new truck; I picked mine up yesterday!
It's a 2008 Chevy Silverado 1500. Awesome gas guzzler! Took it to a gas station right away and proceeded to pump $100 of gas. Not that I wanted to check the efficiency of the gas pump - it was accurate - but because that's the limit on the corporate credit card. And at 24 gallons, it turns out it has even more capacity.
OK, so it's my permanent company vehicle. I'd show a picture, but it has this logo on the side, and I'm not willing to divulge that.
Never driven something this big on a regular basis. I tower over cars sitting next to me. It's a bit daunting. And I abhor not being able to see out the sides or the rear. The hard shell top does have windows, but not the same.
Anywho, if you see a white Silverado pickup going down the road with a driver who looks totally out-of-place driving a huge pickup, it just may be me.
Keep on Truckin'...
Thursday, July 31
Email Subjectivity
A friend has this really obnoxious habit with received emails. If the body of the email doesn't match the subject, her mind shuts down, and doesn't read the remainder of the email.
So when you get a reply (if you get a reply), the second part never even gets the attention it deserves.
OK, you may be thinking "Bob, isn't it possible that the friend may read this post?"
Yes, but that's the point. The word subjectivity in and of itself doesn't have anything to do with the subject line in an email.
So I'm safe.
(Yeah, I'll let you know if she catches on)
So when you get a reply (if you get a reply), the second part never even gets the attention it deserves.
OK, you may be thinking "Bob, isn't it possible that the friend may read this post?"
Yes, but that's the point. The word subjectivity in and of itself doesn't have anything to do with the subject line in an email.
So I'm safe.
(Yeah, I'll let you know if she catches on)
Sunday, July 27
...and then there were three
Branches, that is.
That photo of the half a tree was taken at 3pm this afternoon; the photo below was taken about twenty minutes ago. Wind's a howlin' tonight; this storm may be the tree's swan song.
Funny thing with that previous post. "Breaking Wind" was supposed to be a poorly executed pun, and it worked. The ad to the left was priceless, for a gas and bloating aid.
(Your mileage may vary)
That photo of the half a tree was taken at 3pm this afternoon; the photo below was taken about twenty minutes ago. Wind's a howlin' tonight; this storm may be the tree's swan song.
Funny thing with that previous post. "Breaking Wind" was supposed to be a poorly executed pun, and it worked. The ad to the left was priceless, for a gas and bloating aid.(Your mileage may vary)
Breaking Wind
No. Not going there. Don't ask.
Last week's wind storm that hit Taylorsville was, by all accounts, a series of microbursts. Nothing at all happened to the huge willow in the backyard. Hell, I expected a couple branches at least, but just a few feet away, the nondescript tree against the fence didn't fair at all well.
Yes, I cropped it this way for a reason. As can be seen from the photo, there's really half a tree missing.
And you can tell from the base of the tree that this was a substantial hunk of wood that broke off. Two whole "branches" from the main "trunk", this tree had turned into more of a bush.
We interrupt this brilliantly stimulating conversation for an explanation...
I'm told that this particular tree has quite a history, that it was hit by lightning - a year or so BB, or Before Bob as it were. Cut down to a stump afterwards, this tree wasn't ever expected to do more than rot away; it has since returned.
So the "tree" doesn't really have a trunk. unless you call the following a "trunk":
Now we have two trees with peculiarities - or one-and-a-half as the case may be.
...we now return you to your regularly-scheduled bs.
Last week's wind storm that hit Taylorsville was, by all accounts, a series of microbursts. Nothing at all happened to the huge willow in the backyard. Hell, I expected a couple branches at least, but just a few feet away, the nondescript tree against the fence didn't fair at all well.
Yes, I cropped it this way for a reason. As can be seen from the photo, there's really half a tree missing.And you can tell from the base of the tree that this was a substantial hunk of wood that broke off. Two whole "branches" from the main "trunk", this tree had turned into more of a bush.
We interrupt this brilliantly stimulating conversation for an explanation...
I'm told that this particular tree has quite a history, that it was hit by lightning - a year or so BB, or Before Bob as it were. Cut down to a stump afterwards, this tree wasn't ever expected to do more than rot away; it has since returned.
So the "tree" doesn't really have a trunk. unless you call the following a "trunk":
Now we have two trees with peculiarities - or one-and-a-half as the case may be....we now return you to your regularly-scheduled bs.
Chose Wisely
Banner ads. Love 'em or hate 'em, there's not much we can do about 'em. We try to not even look at them, but... wait. Does that banner ad say what I think it said?
Here's a quick sampling of banner ads I've found over the last little while. The first three are animated and have been modified to do so forever so you can see the errors. That last one isn't animated, like it matters.
What it boils down to is that graphic designers need to be proofreaders as well!
Here's a quick sampling of banner ads I've found over the last little while. The first three are animated and have been modified to do so forever so you can see the errors. That last one isn't animated, like it matters.
What it boils down to is that graphic designers need to be proofreaders as well!
Saturday, July 26
Visitors from all over...
Welcome!
I've been a denizen of the online community for over two decades now. Started out on Compuserve in the early '80's with a Lear Siegler ADM 3A at 300 baud. That's (really) slow in today's terms. Text based. No graphics. And only 80 characters wide. Cutting-edge for the time.
Had short spells of interest years after that with Prodigy and AOL, and then my first real internet account in 1994.
1998 brought about my involvement with CAWS, and here, ten years later, is my blog.
And this thing we call the World Wide Web does, in fact, connect the entire world to information, concepts, and, yes, bob's bs. So much so that I've started to attract folks from all over the world from such diverse and remote locales as Colorado, Nevada and California.
Oh, and Australia, Romania, and Belgium!
Anyway, again, welcome to bob's bs. It's gonna be a fun ride!
I've been a denizen of the online community for over two decades now. Started out on Compuserve in the early '80's with a Lear Siegler ADM 3A at 300 baud. That's (really) slow in today's terms. Text based. No graphics. And only 80 characters wide. Cutting-edge for the time.
Had short spells of interest years after that with Prodigy and AOL, and then my first real internet account in 1994.
1998 brought about my involvement with CAWS, and here, ten years later, is my blog.
And this thing we call the World Wide Web does, in fact, connect the entire world to information, concepts, and, yes, bob's bs. So much so that I've started to attract folks from all over the world from such diverse and remote locales as Colorado, Nevada and California.
Oh, and Australia, Romania, and Belgium!
Anyway, again, welcome to bob's bs. It's gonna be a fun ride!
Thursday, July 24
There's More Where This Came From
You're really missing a treat if you've never ordered anything from Cafepress. Mugs, Mousepads, Shirts, Tile Coasters - and Bags and Journals as above.I bought these a week ago, the products arrived Wednesday; got journals for Marilee and myself, and she also wanted a bag to carry her brilliantly stimulating stuff.
Cafepress may seem a bit steep, price-wise, but considering they take care of all the production, shipping, and returns if necessary, you don't have to worry about having a hundred size small t-shirts in your own inventory.
So what are you waiting for? My bs is waiting for you!
Valley Newss
No, this isn't a retread of my extra Z's post.
New Hampshire's Valley News actually had a typo on its masthead Monday where it misspelled the newspaper's own name - the print edition, no less. Which to me is peculiar since I'd expect something like that would be inserted in the production process as a graphic. Or as a solid pound of lead. Anyway...
Why is this of note? Because the article I read that reports this major typo is from Great Britain. I haven't a problem with the Brits. This is because it takes a United Kingdom newspaper to observe a typo on a United States newspaper. I'm guessing that the Brits take great joy in reporting on errors in the Colonies. Tender spot?
A quick review does show that there are reports of the flub in this country, particularly at Regret the Error. Take a look.
New Hampshire's Valley News actually had a typo on its masthead Monday where it misspelled the newspaper's own name - the print edition, no less. Which to me is peculiar since I'd expect something like that would be inserted in the production process as a graphic. Or as a solid pound of lead. Anyway...
Why is this of note? Because the article I read that reports this major typo is from Great Britain. I haven't a problem with the Brits. This is because it takes a United Kingdom newspaper to observe a typo on a United States newspaper. I'm guessing that the Brits take great joy in reporting on errors in the Colonies. Tender spot?
A quick review does show that there are reports of the flub in this country, particularly at Regret the Error. Take a look.
Wednesday, July 23
Travel Equals ?
Have you noticed that all my posts labeled "Travel" have to do with work?
Must work on that...
Must work on that...
Tuesday, July 22
Elementary, Dear Readers
Several years ago, there was an advertising campaign put on by the local Mormon newspaper, The Deseret News. The campaign said simply "Written in the interest of time... Your time." Simply put, it would make for a quick read. And easy to understand.I'm not going to make this a Mormon-bashing post. But you be the judge of the rest...
A fun feature in the blogosphere is the Blog Readability Test [sadly now offline]. Put in a blog's web address, and it'll tell you what the readability level is. Mine ranges from High School to College Undergrad, one post even registered Genius. Jenn's is at College undergrad on a regular basis. It's not the content that's High School level, it's the readability level. K?
But as the Readability site suggests, "This tool also works on myspace profiles, livejournals, facebook, and most websites". Including The Deseret News.
Daily, The Deseret News has the following readability level:
I suppose one could gather that it is easy to read the News because the readability level is so low, but one has to wonder - since the majority of people who read the News are Mormon, that maybe it's written this way because the reading level of Mormons is Elementary Level?Just sayin'.
Monday, July 21
Double Petunia
There's a saying / piece of prose / rhyme / poem / whatever - that my California and Nevada family knows by heart. Since I originally heard it from my Dad, and my Aunt Mary Lou knows it, I'm guessing that it is quite old, say the twenties or thirties (that's last century for you youngsters).
If you google the title of this post, you'll find that "Double Petunia" is actually a type of flower. Like a begonia. And thus we begin:
A petunia is a flower like a begonia
A begonia is a meat like a sausage
A sausage and battery is a crime
Monkeys crime trees
Trees a crowd
A rooster crowd and made a noise
A noise is part of your face like an eye
Eye is the opposite of nay
Horses nay, and horses have colts
And if you go to bed at night with a colt and leave the window open, you'll wake up in the morning with Double Petunia!
If you google the title of this post, you'll find that "Double Petunia" is actually a type of flower. Like a begonia. And thus we begin:
A petunia is a flower like a begonia
A begonia is a meat like a sausage
A sausage and battery is a crime
Monkeys crime trees
Trees a crowd
A rooster crowd and made a noise
A noise is part of your face like an eye
Eye is the opposite of nay
Horses nay, and horses have colts
And if you go to bed at night with a colt and leave the window open, you'll wake up in the morning with Double Petunia!
Old Man Talk
Last Tuesday, I posted a seemingly peculiar graphic of a hemorrhaging vegetable. Upon showing it to my co-worker Dave, he immediately saw the reference and knew that it had everything to do with work. Showed it to another co-worker and he had no idea. I thought everyone knew about this idiom; apparently not.
I expected to see at least one person comment, but didn't get any - apparently there were far more people who didn't get it.
I figured that would be the end of it until this evening when Chris came over for dinner and yard tending. After some brilliantly stimulating conversation, and finding out he hadn't actually read that particular post, I showed him the graphic.
Blank stare.
"What is that?"
I then explained that one reference has it that when Cain brought an offering of a turnip to God while his brother Abel offered a lamb, that God said "You can't get blood out of a turnip."
The young whippersnapper said:
"That's Old Man Talk."
[I'm not a religious scholar, so if the analogy above offends, deal with it. -Ed]
I expected to see at least one person comment, but didn't get any - apparently there were far more people who didn't get it.
I figured that would be the end of it until this evening when Chris came over for dinner and yard tending. After some brilliantly stimulating conversation, and finding out he hadn't actually read that particular post, I showed him the graphic.
Blank stare.
"What is that?"
I then explained that one reference has it that when Cain brought an offering of a turnip to God while his brother Abel offered a lamb, that God said "You can't get blood out of a turnip."
The young whippersnapper said:
"That's Old Man Talk."
[I'm not a religious scholar, so if the analogy above offends, deal with it. -Ed]
Sunday, July 20
Moving Day
Rather, its been moving week.
Three separate yet distinct offices of my employer are currently moving into a single office. Everyone's going to be one happy family. Yeah, riiight.
Today's the last day (yes, Sunday) for getting everything out of my old office in Salt Lake City. An office from Davis County, and yet another from West Valley moved last week.
I've already moved two Rodeo-loads of crap - yes, crap - from there to home. No one seems to know or realize that all of my spare parts, 500-plus pounds of them, will not fit in a Chevrolet Impala. Maybe without their boxes, but no. Suffice to say, they haven't given me a place to put the leftovers in the new office. I suppose that there are more pressing things to be concerned about.
The crap is mostly twenty-plus years of memories. While there's been time to move it all, there hasn't been time to sort through most of it. Sure, I've dumped five or more trash cans full, but what remains still needs perusal and retrospection.
Three or so more loads and I'll be done. But the hardest part of all this is that I've had a place to go, an office, with my own chair, my own desk, my own in box and out box, my own drawer full of pens and Taco Bell hot sauce packets, for the last twenty-five years. My new office? A car. You're mobile with this company. Down-time is frowned upon. Never should you need to be anchored to a desk.
Anchors Aweigh.
Three separate yet distinct offices of my employer are currently moving into a single office. Everyone's going to be one happy family. Yeah, riiight.
Today's the last day (yes, Sunday) for getting everything out of my old office in Salt Lake City. An office from Davis County, and yet another from West Valley moved last week.
I've already moved two Rodeo-loads of crap - yes, crap - from there to home. No one seems to know or realize that all of my spare parts, 500-plus pounds of them, will not fit in a Chevrolet Impala. Maybe without their boxes, but no. Suffice to say, they haven't given me a place to put the leftovers in the new office. I suppose that there are more pressing things to be concerned about.
The crap is mostly twenty-plus years of memories. While there's been time to move it all, there hasn't been time to sort through most of it. Sure, I've dumped five or more trash cans full, but what remains still needs perusal and retrospection.
Three or so more loads and I'll be done. But the hardest part of all this is that I've had a place to go, an office, with my own chair, my own desk, my own in box and out box, my own drawer full of pens and Taco Bell hot sauce packets, for the last twenty-five years. My new office? A car. You're mobile with this company. Down-time is frowned upon. Never should you need to be anchored to a desk.
Anchors Aweigh.
Saturday, July 19
Labels
I don't like to apply "labels" to things - once you do, you'll either have to stick to them or even worse, piss someone off by pigeon-holing them. But blog posts? That's another thing.
Previously, I had labelled my posts to the tune of twenty-five-or-so different labels; I've now cut that down toeleven twelve (added "Local").
So while I wouldn't have applied any label to this post - with 25 labels to pick from that's amazing - I'm just doing this one as Writing.
Labeled thus.
Previously, I had labelled my posts to the tune of twenty-five-or-so different labels; I've now cut that down to
So while I wouldn't have applied any label to this post - with 25 labels to pick from that's amazing - I'm just doing this one as Writing.
Labeled thus.
Be Careful What You Wish For
...or search for.
Early on in the history of the CAWS website, I put something like "Please don't kidnap the photos of our animals" on the home page. Once the search engines started hitting the site, we were getting spammed from sites wanting us to list our site on child abuse sites. One email in particular had used the word kidnap. Ooops.
I quickly altered kidnap and changed it to "kitnap".
Why am I telling you this? Simply put, you really need to be careful when you put stuff on your website, or even your blog. And that line is beginning to blur.
And never, ever, put the name of the company you work for in your posts.
Early on in the history of the CAWS website, I put something like "Please don't kidnap the photos of our animals" on the home page. Once the search engines started hitting the site, we were getting spammed from sites wanting us to list our site on child abuse sites. One email in particular had used the word kidnap. Ooops.
I quickly altered kidnap and changed it to "kitnap".
Why am I telling you this? Simply put, you really need to be careful when you put stuff on your website, or even your blog. And that line is beginning to blur.
And never, ever, put the name of the company you work for in your posts.
Friday, July 18
Lucid in the Sky with Diamonique
I've been having some weird lucid dreams lately - the brain and dream enthusiast will have fun with this post - but I've been expecting them.Yes, it's another drug-induced side effect. But this particular drug is for my own good. Family's, too.
Sorry, Jenn and Chris, no more menthol smoke in the future.
The drug is called Chantix. It affects the same receptors in your brain that nicotine does. Fits the receptor a lot better than other smoking cessation drugs like Zyban.
An example of it's efficacy is that I got home from work Wednesday night arounfd 5:30pm, and didn't even have a single urge until I got ready for bed; I thought about the fact that I hadn't had one for four or more hours, and it hit me like a ton of bricks.
I'd tried Chantix before but didn't complete the program - stress at work complicated matters. Now that things are settling down (a bit) I decided to try again.
But if you see me, please don't ask how long it's been since I've had a smoke. I'll want one!
Strange thought just popped into my head - imagine if Timothy Leary'd had a blog...
Dogs Can't Add
Out on the patio this morning having my morning coffee. Dogs are out there to do their "business". Watching them (not too intently, of course).
They come over to where I'm sitting, Princess wants some head scratches, Bambi, too.
After having had their business meeting, they wander over to the steps, single file, waiting for the door to open. Because it's an automatic door.
They haven't yet put two-and-two together that I'm the automatic part.
They come over to where I'm sitting, Princess wants some head scratches, Bambi, too.
After having had their business meeting, they wander over to the steps, single file, waiting for the door to open. Because it's an automatic door.
They haven't yet put two-and-two together that I'm the automatic part.
Thursday, July 17
300 Channels
...and nothing's on.
In a throwback to early television, our main viewing TV in the family room only receives three channels. No, it's not broken. Hell, even if we were to get an HDTV, it'd still only receive three channels.
Yes, Marilee controls the remote.
It's her TiVo, after all.
Occasionally, when there's nothing on, I get to drive, and still end up flipping over to a shopping channel.
I'm hopeless.
In a throwback to early television, our main viewing TV in the family room only receives three channels. No, it's not broken. Hell, even if we were to get an HDTV, it'd still only receive three channels.
Yes, Marilee controls the remote.
It's her TiVo, after all.
Occasionally, when there's nothing on, I get to drive, and still end up flipping over to a shopping channel.
I'm hopeless.
Tuesday, July 15
Monday, July 14
What Time Is It?
Here's a fun thought. Try calling a help desk somewhere, and ask as the first question "What time is it?" If you've ever experienced this, you'll know what I mean. Getting nowhere with a help desk person, you'd wonder if they'd be able to give you the time of day.
Late Sunday night call to Salt Lake City. Perhaps you've heard of it. Not a classy locale like Caldwell or Boise, or even Kanab, but close enough that if I really had to, I could actually drive there. AND sleep in my own bed afterwards.
Caller said the building was on Chiptal Way. Even spelled it for me. Chiptal. Left the house at 10:15pm. Called the supposed on-site end user whose name was Amish. No, he wasn't Amish, his name was Amish. Asked him to spell the name of the street for me.
Rustling of paper. Tapping of keyboard. And otherwise dead silence.
I prodded a bit more. "I just want to know if it's Chiptal or Chipeta, as there's no Chiptal in Salt Lake City."
More rustling, tapping, and silence.
I started to wonder if maybe he had been brought in for a special project, picked up at the airport, and truly did not know where he was. But surely...
"Are you up by the University of Utah?"
"No. Actually, sir, I'm in India."
Dead silence
Late Sunday night call to Salt Lake City. Perhaps you've heard of it. Not a classy locale like Caldwell or Boise, or even Kanab, but close enough that if I really had to, I could actually drive there. AND sleep in my own bed afterwards.
Caller said the building was on Chiptal Way. Even spelled it for me. Chiptal. Left the house at 10:15pm. Called the supposed on-site end user whose name was Amish
Rustling of paper. Tapping of keyboard. And otherwise dead silence.
I prodded a bit more. "I just want to know if it's Chiptal or Chipeta, as there's no Chiptal in Salt Lake City."
More rustling, tapping, and silence.
I started to wonder if maybe he had been brought in for a special project, picked up at the airport, and truly did not know where he was. But surely...
"Are you up by the University of Utah?"
"No. Actually, sir, I'm in India."
Dead silence
Saturday, July 12
SPAM
You probably haven't gotten any SPAM lately. I just finished off half a can.
Not spam, this is about SPAM.
A recent Marilee-less trip to Costco found yours truly buying (intentionally) a mega-pack of reconstituted pig. I hadn't had any SPAM in a long time, and thought it would be a grand idea to get some.
(Mental note: Always bring Marilee along on future trips to Costco.)
Fried up some SPAM tonight I did. And it tasted like - reconstituted pig. Flavor, yes, since this was the 25%-less sodium version. But texture? Ick.
Marilee was a bit put off by the mere thought I was eating the stuff; when the subject got around to what's actually in SPAM, I grabbed an unopened can and started reading. And stopped when I got to the first ingredient:
Pork with Ham
At least we have something to hand off to the Scouts the next time they need handouts for their food drives.
Quick update: the expiration date is great - "Best by February 2011"
Not spam, this is about SPAM.
A recent Marilee-less trip to Costco found yours truly buying (intentionally) a mega-pack of reconstituted pig. I hadn't had any SPAM in a long time, and thought it would be a grand idea to get some.
(Mental note: Always bring Marilee along on future trips to Costco.)
Fried up some SPAM tonight I did. And it tasted like - reconstituted pig. Flavor, yes, since this was the 25%-less sodium version. But texture? Ick.
Marilee was a bit put off by the mere thought I was eating the stuff; when the subject got around to what's actually in SPAM, I grabbed an unopened can and started reading. And stopped when I got to the first ingredient:
Pork with Ham
At least we have something to hand off to the Scouts the next time they need handouts for their food drives.
Quick update: the expiration date is great - "Best by February 2011"
Friday, July 11
Finding My Nitch
Or neesh.
I've been cataloging my cache of photographs the last couple days. It'll likely take through the weekend and then some. I've cataloged them before, but this time I've got a master plan for doing so. I'm not particularly looking for one specific photo; for the most part, I remember just about every one I've taken, where, when and why. Even what and who. And how.
If that sounds vaguely familiar, there's a reason.
A friend of mine from my distant past has said that when I get my thoughts together, they'd like to read what I have to say. And what I do with whatever it is that I find, it'll be a treasure trove. Of possibilities? That remains to be seen.
For what I intend on doing with all those photos, with a bit of prose thrown in for good measure, is to do something that's been on my mind for a long time. A very long time.
Without going into too much detail, here and now, I've made up my mind.
I'm going to write... a BOOK.
I've been cataloging my cache of photographs the last couple days. It'll likely take through the weekend and then some. I've cataloged them before, but this time I've got a master plan for doing so. I'm not particularly looking for one specific photo; for the most part, I remember just about every one I've taken, where, when and why. Even what and who. And how.
If that sounds vaguely familiar, there's a reason.
A friend of mine from my distant past has said that when I get my thoughts together, they'd like to read what I have to say. And what I do with whatever it is that I find, it'll be a treasure trove. Of possibilities? That remains to be seen.
For what I intend on doing with all those photos, with a bit of prose thrown in for good measure, is to do something that's been on my mind for a long time. A very long time.
Without going into too much detail, here and now, I've made up my mind.
I'm going to write... a BOOK.
Wednesday, July 9
Day (and-a-half) Tripper
I've been on a trip for the last three days. And I haven't gone anywhere.
While my doctor thinks I need more mellowing, this last drug he prescribed for me isn't the answer. While I wouldn't exactly call my state of mind mellow, catatonic comes close.
Even Marilee, last night on a cheap date at Costco, said I wasn't being Bob. She caught me more than once just staring off into space. Now, while we do enjoy watching people at Costco, it's far more fun watching Marilee watch people. Intent stares at other people is one thing. And I don't know if while I was staring off if she looked to see where I was looking, but even I have caught myself staring for minutes at a time. At nothing in particular.
I haven't been into work for a day-and-a-half. I was off on a service call to Rowley on the other side of the lake when catatonic happened. Heading out via highway 201, I caught myself turning around at highway 202. BTW, it's the only place in Utah where two state highways only a number apart intersect. [There's the old Bob showing up]
But turning around didn't happen. Highway 202 then intersects with Interstate 80 after a mile or so, and that leg of I-80 back towards I-215 is a hell of a long drive when you're having second thoughts about driving any distance.
Weird feeling, having this particular drug coursing through my veins. Not that it's particularly powerful, but that it's now the second additional anti-depressant that's affected me in a negative way. And the side-effects (at least the reported side effects) don't help matters. Agitated and sweating are in there - while catatonic isn't listed, I awoke to a pool of sweat a la "wet spot" at least twice since Sunday, but I also erupted at my old boss Monday afternoon just before I turned around and went home. And since when is agitated helpful as a side effect for an anti-depressant?
I've got a breakfast meeting to go to this morning and will see how that goes. Stay tuned...
While my doctor thinks I need more mellowing, this last drug he prescribed for me isn't the answer. While I wouldn't exactly call my state of mind mellow, catatonic comes close.
Even Marilee, last night on a cheap date at Costco, said I wasn't being Bob. She caught me more than once just staring off into space. Now, while we do enjoy watching people at Costco, it's far more fun watching Marilee watch people. Intent stares at other people is one thing. And I don't know if while I was staring off if she looked to see where I was looking, but even I have caught myself staring for minutes at a time. At nothing in particular.
I haven't been into work for a day-and-a-half. I was off on a service call to Rowley on the other side of the lake when catatonic happened. Heading out via highway 201, I caught myself turning around at highway 202. BTW, it's the only place in Utah where two state highways only a number apart intersect. [There's the old Bob showing up]
But turning around didn't happen. Highway 202 then intersects with Interstate 80 after a mile or so, and that leg of I-80 back towards I-215 is a hell of a long drive when you're having second thoughts about driving any distance.
Weird feeling, having this particular drug coursing through my veins. Not that it's particularly powerful, but that it's now the second additional anti-depressant that's affected me in a negative way. And the side-effects (at least the reported side effects) don't help matters. Agitated and sweating are in there - while catatonic isn't listed, I awoke to a pool of sweat a la "wet spot" at least twice since Sunday, but I also erupted at my old boss Monday afternoon just before I turned around and went home. And since when is agitated helpful as a side effect for an anti-depressant?
I've got a breakfast meeting to go to this morning and will see how that goes. Stay tuned...
Monday, July 7
Dominance
Right now. Get your mind out of the gutter.
The pecking order has been established, at least in the canine realm. Princess is the boss.
But Bambi is still fighting that, tooth and nail. No real fisticuffs yet, but there have been a few, uh, discussions.
Before Snickers left us - someday I'll write about Snickers - she and Bambi would do that disgusting dominance two-step. First Snickers would pee, then Bambi on top of that, then Snickers would circle around and repeat the process. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Now with Bambi and Princess, Princess is first. Then comes Bambi. Then... but there's no "then". Even when Bambi goes first, Princess doesn't even care.
Literally, she doesn't give a rat's ass.
(Strangely, no, there's no picture to show. You're welcome.)
The pecking order has been established, at least in the canine realm. Princess is the boss.
But Bambi is still fighting that, tooth and nail. No real fisticuffs yet, but there have been a few, uh, discussions.
Before Snickers left us - someday I'll write about Snickers - she and Bambi would do that disgusting dominance two-step. First Snickers would pee, then Bambi on top of that, then Snickers would circle around and repeat the process. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Now with Bambi and Princess, Princess is first. Then comes Bambi. Then... but there's no "then". Even when Bambi goes first, Princess doesn't even care.
Literally, she doesn't give a rat's ass.
(Strangely, no, there's no picture to show. You're welcome.)
Saturday, July 5
Don't Click There!
Not yet, anyway.
It's likely that just above bob's bs up there at the top, there's a "Next Blog" link. Don't click it. But if you must, bookmark or save as a favorite this blog. Really.
You'll want to come back since if you don't save it now, you might not find it again.
Really. It's worth it.
It's likely that just above bob's bs up there at the top, there's a "Next Blog" link. Don't click it. But if you must, bookmark or save as a favorite this blog. Really.
You'll want to come back since if you don't save it now, you might not find it again.
Really. It's worth it.
What Tree Is This?
There's a tree in the backyard that doesn't do anything. Sure, in Autumn it drops its leaves, stark contrast to the Winter white (artsy fartsy) Spring brings out the new growth, Summer it just sits there. No fruit, no flowers, no nothing.Yes, for all you Utah readers, I could snap off a branch or twig and take it to Western Garden and have them ID it, but someone out there's got to know what this is.
I even have gone to the Arbor Day's website and used their What Tree Is That program to no avail.
We've discussed cutting it down to get something else planted that does something other than....
OK, so it does do something, and maybe reason enough to keep it - it produces oxygen.
In this day and age, that's something worth considering...
Selective Hearing
If you google for the phrase "selective hearing", you'll find lots of references to a condition where someone says one thing and the listener hears something completely different. But in my opinion, that's not real selective hearing - rather, it's when someone says something, and chooses not to hear anything at all.
Case in point - calling for Bambi or Princess to come in and they ignore you completely. But call them for dinner, cheese or cookies and they come running.
Guys, I'm afraid, have this same problem. We choose not to hear certain things. The speaker may as well be speaking a foreign language. If we don't care to hear something of a particular subject, it's in one ear and out the other. With no filtering in between.
I mentioned this to Marilee this evening, and she wholeheartedly agreed, though I was only talking about the dogs. She mentioned that guys were like that as well.
"Do women have that problem?"
"No, we hear everything."
Guys, we have been warned.
Case in point - calling for Bambi or Princess to come in and they ignore you completely. But call them for dinner, cheese or cookies and they come running.
Guys, I'm afraid, have this same problem. We choose not to hear certain things. The speaker may as well be speaking a foreign language. If we don't care to hear something of a particular subject, it's in one ear and out the other. With no filtering in between.
I mentioned this to Marilee this evening, and she wholeheartedly agreed, though I was only talking about the dogs. She mentioned that guys were like that as well.
"Do women have that problem?"
"No, we hear everything."
Guys, we have been warned.
Friday, July 4
Ye Olde Watering Hole
It hit a hundred degrees today. Not so much a scorcher, since the humidity was rather high.
Marilee and I enjoyed the air conditioning indoors, while Bambi and Princess insisted on cooking their insides yet again outdoors.
After returning from outside, Princess went over to the mega-waterer we got last year; it is ingenious since you're not always filling a water dish. But the drawback is that it makes Mom and Dad lazy as far as keeping the thing filled.
Marilee and I enjoyed the air conditioning indoors, while Bambi and Princess insisted on cooking their insides yet again outdoors.
After returning from outside, Princess went over to the mega-waterer we got last year; it is ingenious since you're not always filling a water dish. But the drawback is that it makes Mom and Dad lazy as far as keeping the thing filled.
There was no sound coming from her massive tongue-lapping, and I realized why - the damn thing was empty again. After pulling the bottle off the thing, and heading to the faucet to fill it up, I returned to the scene below.
Yes, she gave me a look.
Yes, she gave me a look.
The Look
My family (of California and Nevada) has a genetic predisposition to look over their glasses when prompted to do so by a comment or activity which warrants it. Even I have this behavior, and, yes, everyone in my family wears glasses.
I've used this look on Marilee, Taylor, and Jenn and Chris. Having not "grown up" in a family environment of those who wear glasses - Marilee wears glasses only for reading - they didn't know that's just something I do. And it was effective.
My Dad, in an earlier life, was a high-school teacher. Even then, in the '30's, there were goof-offs in the classes he taught. When one of these miscreants would start acting out, he'd stop the lesson and dead quiet would envelop the room. Over his glasses he would stare at the perpetrator. Effective even then.
We're not talking a sidelong glance. Not with raised eyebrows. You know the look. "It's not what you said, it's how you looked when you said it."
I've used this look on Marilee, Taylor, and Jenn and Chris. Having not "grown up" in a family environment of those who wear glasses - Marilee wears glasses only for reading - they didn't know that's just something I do. And it was effective.
My Dad, in an earlier life, was a high-school teacher. Even then, in the '30's, there were goof-offs in the classes he taught. When one of these miscreants would start acting out, he'd stop the lesson and dead quiet would envelop the room. Over his glasses he would stare at the perpetrator. Effective even then.
We're not talking a sidelong glance. Not with raised eyebrows. You know the look. "It's not what you said, it's how you looked when you said it."
Wednesday, July 2
Regimentation
Look it up.
If those of you reading this know me personally, you'll know I spent some time in a "military environment". No, not THE military. Anyway...
I have a real problem with regimentation (which, BTW, is difficult being of a minor religion in Utah). Any suggestion that I need to be controlled sets me off. You have been warned.
Monday night Marilee and I went shopping for clothes, for me. I'm not a clothes horse by any means, but the work I do is very hard on clothes. Crawling around on floors, snagging stuff on sharp edges, ink stains - it runs the gamut. Went to Penney's and got a couple short-sleeve shirts and a couple pairs of pants.
While the clothes we bought are fairly nondescript, no logos, no patch pockets, they're perfectly OK for work. However, I had had the feeling I should get something that's a bit more in tune with my current employer, and wondered if I should get some logoed merchandise - I'd seen others wearing the stuff, so I took a look at what was available.
Oh yeah, they're available. But when I read the part about "yearly uniform allowances", I stopped dead in my tracks.
Uniform?
Look it up.
If those of you reading this know me personally, you'll know I spent some time in a "military environment". No, not THE military. Anyway...
I have a real problem with regimentation (which, BTW, is difficult being of a minor religion in Utah). Any suggestion that I need to be controlled sets me off. You have been warned.
Monday night Marilee and I went shopping for clothes, for me. I'm not a clothes horse by any means, but the work I do is very hard on clothes. Crawling around on floors, snagging stuff on sharp edges, ink stains - it runs the gamut. Went to Penney's and got a couple short-sleeve shirts and a couple pairs of pants.
While the clothes we bought are fairly nondescript, no logos, no patch pockets, they're perfectly OK for work. However, I had had the feeling I should get something that's a bit more in tune with my current employer, and wondered if I should get some logoed merchandise - I'd seen others wearing the stuff, so I took a look at what was available.
Oh yeah, they're available. But when I read the part about "yearly uniform allowances", I stopped dead in my tracks.
Uniform?
Look it up.
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