Klinefelter Syndrome

What, you've never heard of Klinefelter Syndrome? I'm not surprised, even though it's the most common chromosomal disorder know to man. Or men, since it only affects males.

Occuring in 1 in 500 to 1 in 1000 men, it adds an extra X chromosome to a male's karyotype. XXY in other words, rather than the more common XY. So instead of 46 chromosomes, someone with an XXY makeup then has 47. Also known as 47,XXY, the condition is more commonly referred to as Klinefelter Syndrome.

That extra X chromosome does some fairly obvious things to a man's appearance, some of which are quite dramatic, outwardly at least. For example, a Klinefelter Syndrome male can be expected to be taller than their fathers and younger siblings. That, and their legs are longer than their torsos. And their "wingspans", that is, from the tips of one outstretched arm to the other, will be "longer" than their height.

As might be expected, that extra X also makes a man have certain characteristics that are quite un-male: Breast development, female fat distribution, and incomplete beard growth.

But the rather telling part about Klinefelter Syndrome is the sexual nature of the condition. In fact, it's what makes a male seek medical advice during certain points in their life. Primarily, Klinefelter Syndrome makes a man sterile. Elevated levels of FSH or Follicle Stimulating Hormone, and LH or Leuteinizing Hormone, and a low levels of testosterone. FSH is that which promotes sperm production, and LH is what is supposed to produce testosterone. These three endocrinological processes are primarily what define a man as having Klinefelter Syndrome.

There are several times during a man's life, from birth through adulthood, where a man might be tested for the condition. Prenatally, where there is insufficient progress in the fetus' development, or in childhood where there are learning difficulties. Also suspect is when puberty doesn't happen in the time frame it should. Or even later in life, when a young man and his wife are trying to get pregnant, they find out then he is sterile because of the condition.

OK, folks, this isn't just some random interest I have in a medical condition. It isn't part of one of those "Mystery Diagnosis" shows that Marilee likes to watch. I have a deep interest in the subject, as you'll see soon enough.

One year ago today, I was diagnosed with Klinefelter Syndrome.

There's nothing chronological about it. A year with Klinefelter Syndrome is just like any other year I've lived. Except for one thing - for a year I've realized just what my life was like without knowing. Why my life was such a struggle socially, intellectually, professionally... the list runs the gamut.

OK, before you say it - as has already been said to me numerous times over the last year - I am not being too hard on myself. Take a trip in my mind for a few moments, if you will.

Lazy, scatter-brained, clumsy, absent-minded, hot-headed, quiet, shy... all have been used to define me, and all are symptoms of Klinefelter Syndrome. In fact, I have found that when compared to other early developmental disorders, most boys who are diagnosed as being ADD or ADHD are later found to actually have Klinefelter Syndrome.

So why now? As I said, there's nothing really chronological about living with Klinefelter Syndrome; as humans, we all need to have anniversaries to remember meaningful events. This one is no different, though it has afforded me the ability to reflect.

The next year will be quite a journey for me; I've decided to write a book about my life with Klinefelter Syndrome. My hopes are that it will be read by parents and friends of those with Klinefelter Syndrome, whether they know they have the condition or not.

Besides, who would have thought that I had an extra X chromosome?

Breakfast At Ginger's

Just had to share this one, it's so cute:

The Mystery California Missile Launch

Yeah, it's all over the news today. You won't find anything "new" here.

But I like this explanation from the Daily Intel at New York Magazine's website:

"The missile-launch system became self-aware, and this is the beginning of the machine takeover. All of our computers are about to turn on us, attacking us with weapons, shutting off traffic lights, and making debilitating changes to our fantasy-football lineups."



Some folks think it was just the contrail of a passenger jet, but one report I've seen this morning says there weren't any flights in the area, even with the distance calculated.

What do you think?

Would A Boat Do?

Found this as a screen-cap at Hacked IRL (some links and videos are definitely not safe for work) - do a search at Google Maps for directions from Japan to China, and this is what you get:

Interestingly enough, you can't get from California to Hawaii with Google Maps.

These Skates Are Grating My Consciousness

There's a commercial gracing the airwaves lately, that is grating on my consciousness. It's driving me crazy(-er).

Hell, I don't even know what they're selling. Once the ad starts, I tell Marilee "MUTE THAT DAMN THING!"

The key thing to remember here is that it's sung in such a high pitch that it probably hurts the dogs' ears as well.

Listen for yourself:

Brand New Key

The Three-Finger Salute

Ask anyone who works with Microsoft-powered computers what the "Three-Finger Salute" is, and they'll tell you it's a three-letter command to either a) log in to Windows, b) abort some process or other, or c) reboot a DOS-based machine.

Time was, that three-fingered salute was along the bottom row of a QWERTY keyboard. Two fingers on the left hand and one with the right. As technology - and the need for more keys - expanded, you could three finger with just one hand, typically just the right, as one of the keys had been relocated nearer the center of the keyboard.

And the keys themselves haven't changed. The locations may have, but they're still the same.

So it was a few months ago, and one of my coworkers was explaining to me how to do something on an [expletive deleted]. I readied my fingers, and before I could press any keys, he said:

"Hit control delete..." my mind flashed "WAIT - I HAVE TO WRITE THIS DOWN!"

"...alt."

REWIND. STOP BUTTON. PLAY.

"Control, Delete, Alt"? Had he just said what I think he said?

"Say that again?"

Yup, that's what he said.

I just grinned, and typed it the way I learned it, as Control-Alt-Delete, oh so many years ago. Pre-history.

I kept that in the back of my mind, just grinning whenever I'd have to do it again. And again. And again. Hell, I do that so many times a day I can't count. I'm sure you do, too.

Be quiet, Rachelle.

So it shocked me no end when, a couple weeks ago, I was working on yet another [expletive deleted], when a customer and I were working together on a problem, when I asked how she'd done some function or other, and she said...

"Alt - Control - Delete".

I started wondering if one can gauge how long someone has been working with PC's by how they interpret the three-finger salute.

But this time, I asked her why she did it that way. Not that it really mattered, since the end result is the same.

"Because that's in alphabetical order."

Ah. Like people who don't have OCD but CDO? CDO is in alphabetical order, just like it should be.

Artist Minds Equal Infinite Dreams

I saw that quote this morning on Twitter. I know not of its origin, but several places that quote the quote have "Baroque" appended to it.

Whatever.

Not knowing the source is, for me, rather difficult to explain. For one, it's giving credit where credit is due. It's somewhat like the quote by Ronald Reagan where he states "There is no limit to what you can accomplish if you don't care who gets the credit." Just by quoting his quote, I'm forever connecting him with his quote. Because, face it, folks, the internet is forever.

Wikipedia states, in its entry for "Quotation": A quotation is the repetition of one expression as part of another one, particularly when the quoted expression is well-known or explicitly attributed (as by citation) to its original source, and it is indicated by (punctuated with) quotation marks.

So, a well-known quote might be "A penny saved is a penny earned" or "Early to bed, early to rise...". Both were attributed to be from Benjamin Franklin; no one needs to add Ben as a citation since "everyone" knows where the quotes came from.

But that "Artist Minds Equal Infinite Dreams" quote has me miffed. Googling it doesn't help much; since Google now searches Twitter, all one gets is a cacophony of re-tweets, all without attribution. Maybe some day the attribution will be found out and "everyone" will know where it came from, and attribution won't be necessary.

Or, more likely, the subject will be forgotten, and "Artist Minds Equal Infinite Dreams" will fade into the background noise that has become the internet.

Am I That Predictable?

Morning Tuesday. I've just been out in the back yard throwing the "Circular Flying Device" (not a Frisbee®, but a look-a-like from PETsMART) for Mia.

Mia lives for these ® things.

That, and sticks. I'm sure she'd carry around a tree, if I could throw one.

But what got me wondering if I was predictable was that I'd just poured myself a cup of coffee, and was about to get up and go outside, when...

Yeah, I haven't posted much, if at all, recently. A fact that was made all too clear the other day when I posted a new high score in Three Towers Solitaire on Facebook. Someone commented on that post, saying:

"Pffft…now we know why there are no blog updates..."

Whack, right in the face. Thanks, PCJ.

Anyway, back to Mia.

Both she and Bowser were napping. Eyes closed. Guess the tinkling of the pot off the hotplate aroused her. Or the action of just getting up. I could see the thought bubble above her head - "Frisbee? Frisbee? Frisbee?"

Sorry - "®? ®? ®?"

"Yeah, come on."

And off we went.

Time Traveler?

All abuzz on the internets today is the possibility that a time-traveler may have been in a Charlie Chaplin film from 1928.

Is the person carrying - and speaking into - a cell phone? Naysayers say no, as there weren't exactly any cell towers back then, or satellites for that matter. A mini-corder, then?

No one may ever know, but isn't it interesting that this should happen to be revealed during the 25th anniversary of the Back to the Future franchise?

Obama! A Modern U.S. President (musical spoof)

On Fox this morning:

Rake The Cat

Trouble keeping all that cat hair at bay? Use the new Cat Rake!

You Just Never Know About Photoshop

So this morning I was off looking for source images to use for a Fark Photoshop I was working on. Though I did find several items that were of interest - like how a Star Trek communicator looks like a modern cell phone, and how iPads look like their 24th-century counterparts, what I found was more Star Wars. I couldn't help but stare at it for the longest time.

Yes, I've seen the original of the following image, but I'm pretty sure that the aircraft had a propeller and not some form of ion propulsion.

Damn good Photoshop.

Pedantism (n)

pedant (n) A person who over-emphasizes rules or minor details.

Pedant is a wonderful word, particularly if you want to comment on ones' knowledge of grammar or lack thereof. I'll admit that at times I'll flub a line and make a train wreck of something I'm writing. At those times I would suffer the fate of a grammar pedant. Like Stephen Fry:

This. Is. Not. Possible.

What Is He DOING?

Marilee just said that.

"Chewing on himself? At least that's what it sounds like."

Morning Wednesday. Marilee isn't feeling well to the point she's asked me not to leave.

Bowser, just out of my line of sight, is making "sounds." I really don't know what he's doing; Marilee has a more direct line of sight, but has Lexie and Bambi blocking her view.

So I say "...well, whatever the hell it is that he's doing, he's obviously enjoying it.

"...and being otherwise quiet about it."

Black Market Dishwashing Soap?

It's more likely than you may think.

Don't be surprised if you haven't heard about this - it's not widely known. But I'm sure dishwasher manufacturers have noticed an uptick in sales.

Why? Because folks' dishwashers aren't working as they once did. One such owner in Lancaster County, PA, found out the hard way, after shelling out $759 for a new dishwasher. After seeing that her dishes were still not coming out clean, she learned that the dishwasher soap manufacturer had changed the formula.

Cue the similarly-sounding commercial from the '70s that said "Let's remove the ingredient from the dishwashing soap that actually cleans the dishes and see if anyone notices."

Well, folks, even we noticed, and I bet you have, too. Take a gander at the box of Cascade under your sink and see that it, too, says "Phosphate Free." Due to a ban on phosphates last year, phosphate-laden soaps of all kinds cannot be purchased anywhere. In the United States, anyway.

Even the manufacturer's website explains what the new formula contains - or does not contain:

Phosphate is the main ingredient in most automatic dishwashing detergents and serves many functions. For example, phosphate helps with dishwashing performance by facilitating food removal, removing the calcium that binds these types of foods together and reducing spotting and filming during the wash cycle. Phosphate also aids in grease removal, helps control water hardness, and suspends soils within the wash water so they are not redistributed onto plates.

So... what can the consumer do? Adding back the phosphate is one idea, provided you can actually find the stuff. TSP (tri-sodium phosphate), sold for decades at hardware and home improvement stores is itself sold as "phosphate-free" in some locales, which I suppose turns it into, well, TS.

Tough sh!t?

Well, That's Just Grand

...Am.

I SO hate car problems. I'm not a "car guy" in the sense that I love getting deep into the guts of a car. When there are problems that I cannot handle - read "have the tools for" - I take the thing to someone who does that sort of thing for a living.

I can change a tire - the tools come with the car.

I can change a battery - hell, I work on [expletive deleted]'s and have the tools for that.

But Saturday the conditions were such that it was necessary to call in an expert - well, the expert's assistant: Chris.

The story starts a few weeks ago - Marilee and I were off to do some serious yard-sale-ing, and were off on the east side of the valley. It was a bee-yoo-tee-ful day, windows open, enjoying each others' company. In this one neighborhood, there were several hills and valleys - and dips. And, as we are wont to do, we started making fun of DIP-everything. DIP-thong... DIP-wad... DIP...

OH SH!T

This next DIP was going to be a doozy. Unfortunately, I saw how far the drop-off was at the last nanosecond, slammed on the brakes - alas, too late.

Now, while the Rodeo IS a four-wheel drive vehicle, it's geared more for the weekend warrior type off-road excursions, not for one- or two-foot drop-offs in a residential area. In other words, the ground isn't soft. It's blacktop, after all.

I don'[t know how high we bounced. It took several exasperated moments for us to collect ourselves, and we were on our - clank - way again.

We were only about a block - clank - away from our destination, so got ready to - clank - turn the next corner.

"Did you hear that?" said Marilee.

"What?"

"That clanking sound."

CLANK.

"Oh, THAT clanking sound."

Suffice to say that once Chris and I started looking at the brakes - yeah, you saw that coming - we realized I didn't have the necessary tools to do the job. Enter the expert who came over later yesterday afternoon.

And for the time being, we were down to one serviceable vehicle - my work truck, which left us with a bit of a problem - three un-serviceable vehicles in the driveway. That would be Jenn's old Dodge Avenger, the Rodeo, and Marilee's Grand Am. Ah, yes, the Grand Am.

You may recall this repair job from August 2008:

It's still attached, so I must have done something right, car-wise - for a change. But to have so many un-serviceable cars made me cringe. No just so much that there were dollar signs dancing in my eyes, but what, exactly, was I going to do about the Grand Am THIS time?

The problem? Dead battery. Yes, the battery had been replaced some time ago. And the electrical system checked, at least from the charging/alternator perspective. But anything else? Was it time for a professional?

Screw it, and I turned to Google.

The dead battery was just the end result. The primary symptom? The parking lights were on all-the-time. Even when the ignition switch turned off, and the lights turned off... well, that's not entirely true.

In Pontiac's - and General Motors by association - infinite wisdom, there's no friggin' off switch. There's a three-way headlights-parking lights-AUTO switch. Auto meaning the car's "computer" decides when the lights should be on.

It's wasn't turning the parking lights off AT ALL.

So... a Google search for "grand am" "parking lights" resulted in several good possibilities, including re-programming the computer. Dollar signs. Not an option.

This WAS an electrical problem, was it not? Should be a simple solutio...

Another promising suggestion was to swap the horn relay with the parking light relay. At least you'd know from the nasty looks from your neighbors in the middle of the night with a horn that wouldn't turn off.

What turned out to be the problem was dirty relay contacts at the fuse block. Now, I've been in the electronics business for over thirty years, and wondered just who the rocket-scientist engineer was that decided this circuit should be wired the way it is. In an idle state - ignition switch off, and the switch in "auto" - with basically an open circuit, suggests that the relay is wired as normally closed; energizing the relay makes them turn off.

Who. The. Hell. Does. That?

I bet the engineers who design these circuits probably don't have to fix them.

Now, where have I heard that before?

About That 10/10/10 Thing

There's actually a lot going on today, and none of it appears to be threatening.

Over at HalogenTV is a post saying "...thousands of people around the world will document their stories – what inspires them, what they’re creating, what their lives are like on that day. Filmmakers Kyle Ruddick, Brandon Litman and Michael Klima will combine their stories into a shared documentary film, One Day on Earth."

From WHEC-TV in Rochester, New York: "...Brides and grooms across the country set to wed on 10-10-10 say they hope the number will bring them good luck. Numerologists say the date reflects a couple who is achievement-oriented, and powerful."

From Paramus, New Jersey: "Circle 10/10/10 on your calendar. That's the date. The place is wherever you live. And the point is to do something that will help deal with global warming in your city or community," so notes climate activist and author Bill McKibben."

Of course my inbox was full of ads for 10/10/10 sales going on today - you can find those for yourself, I'm sure.

Thankfully, nothing sinister.

I rate that a ten.

10/10/10

So here we are, typical Saturday - except that I'm on call and that makes it far from typical - and Marilee turns to me and says:

"Anything going on tomorrow?"

Me: "Not that I'm aware of." Of course, since I'm on call, I was thinking about sleeping in, something that I've never really been able to do, but there's always that hope.

She: "Well, it's 10/10/10 tomorrow. Anyone saying anything?"

Me: "So you mean like world-wide dread of a plot or something?"

She: "Mmmm hmmm."

So I Google it.

Me: "Nope. Nothing in particular."

Other than the 14th most popular search on Google, that is.

I created a Google news alert anyway.

Mirth

The word "mirth" came up in conversation today, in regards to someone's expression. And it wasn't I who said the word.

Don't get me wrong, mirth is a great word. Mirth conjures merriment, but doesn't necessarily work in common, every day conversation. Mirth fits a place where any other word just wouldn't work.

Consider telling someone once a year "Mirthy Birthday". Then again...

Anyway, to me, "mirth" brings to mind a court jester of olde. Like this:

Then come jesters, musicians and trained dwarfs,
And singing girls from the land of Ti-ti,
To delight the ear and eye
And bring mirth to the mind.
—Sima Xiangru (ca. 179-117 B.C.), Rhapsody on the Shanglin Park

Sometimes the words just write themselves.

Pancakes!

Maximum cuteness:

Brilliantly Stimulating?

Yeah, about that. Not so much lately. You may have noticed.

As a good friend said recently - when was it? Jeez, it was a month-and-a-half ago:

"I don't know what the doctor is feeding you but I miss the snarky & witty banter!"

As far as I can tell, it's the anti-anxiety meds he's "feeding" me. Anti-anxiety meds are actually good for me; it helps me make it through those weeks I'm on call. I tend to freak out for that once-a-month stint for a week. The other three weeks I'm my old self, except for one thing: My creativity tanks. OK, that's not entirely true - my creativity is non-existent.

Over the years, I realized something pretty important about my thought processes, as I tend to think outside the box. In fact, I don't even see a box. Call it what you will, free-thinking I suppose. Maybe fuzzy logic.

Even Marilee has noticed a change, as well she should. She sees the difference on a daily basis. Just last night she observed "You haven't blogged or taken pictures lately". Lately equates to my only taking four pictures during the entire month of September. And blogging? My last "snarky banter" - read "brilliantly stimulating" - post was TWO MONTHS AGO. By my estimation, about the time my anti-anxiety meds went into full swing.

So what the hell does that have to do with anything?

Now, I'm not one - usually - to take as fact some saying or other. How many times have we all heard a phrase or quote from someone famous and thought "Hey, that sounds like me!". But this one hits far too close to home:

“Anxiety is the handmaiden of creativity.” – T.S. Eliot

Yeah, that T.S. Eliot.

I'd commented on that quote to my cousin, and she said that maybe I was reading too much into it. That, for whatever reason I was using it as an excuse for how I was feeling at that particular moment. Maybe. But as I have learned in the last little while, T.S. Eliot isn't the only one who has made that observation.

In the book "Touched with Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament", Kay Redfield Jamison states "...many creative people are reluctant to be transformed by psychiatric treatment into "normal, well-adjusted, dampened, and bloodless souls" no longer moved to create. And their fears may not be unfounded. Current psychotropic drug therapies can offer some relief from the painful, destructive features of mania and depression. But according to Jamison, there is a price to pay -- these drugs can "dampen a person's general intellect and limit his or her emotional and perceptual range".

Hmmm... maybe I will be having a talk with my physician after all...

[Portions of the above post derived from "Creativity and Mental Illness" by Laura Gosselink at Serendip.]

Poetic Justification

Tim Page, speaking with Terry Gross on NPR, finding out late in life he had Asperger Syndrome:



Really eye-opening.

Blight? Where?

Photo taken Tuesday afternoon in an as-yet-undisclosed location in Utah:



Blight? You betcha. Blight is characterized by, in this case, a deterioration of an urban area. Maybe, fifty years ago, that building was fresh and new, surely not having any broken windows nor brickwork in serious need of repair.

OK, I'll admit that there's nowhere in the country that is immune to blight. Eventually, many places just get out of hand; people move, businesses close, and no one moves back. Just like in that building.

And, dare I say, there are places in Utah that have been prone to blight. Metropolitan areas to the north of Salt Lake City and to the south of Ogden come to mind. But where, pray tell is the urban blight pictured above?

Surely not in Utah County...

Yes. There. Provo. Just off Center Street on 500 West.

Take a look next time you're in the area.

Chris Needs One Of These

A Limitation Of The iPad?

Speakers up!

Dancing In The Movies

Very well-done montage of dancing scenes from the movies:

The Majestic Plastic Bag

Driving In Utah County

I don't know what it is about driving in Utah County, but I have a real hard time with it. Maybe it's the overly-engineered traffic patterns in parking lots. Or maybe the over-abundance of traffic circles. Design a friggin' traffic light that works. Something. Anything.

So I see on the news this morning that a rare traffic design is about to make its debut in, of all places, American Fork. God help us:

We already have a continuous-flow intersection (CFI) in Utah at 35th South and Bangerter. That was a pain getting used to, but damned if the thing actually works. There are a couple more in progress.

Then of course we have SPUI's galore - Single-Point Urban Interchanges.

Now in American Fork is the Diverging Diamond Interchange, similar to the one shown above. Great - it makes a driver go on the left-hand-side of the road.

Hell, Utah County drivers can't drive on the right side correctly.

Ear Worms

Ewwwwww...

No, we're not talking about something akin to that thing that oozed out of Chekov's ear during that one Star trek movie. THAT was full of ewwww.

No, ear worms in this context are those songs that stick in your head - a good friend had the theme song for The Beverly Hillbillies stuck in his craw yesterday.

PsyBlog has an interesting post about ear worms here.

Hey, at least it wasn't Green Acres.

Mandy and Felix

Mandy & Felix turned three years old this month. These two have been up for adoption since they were kittens. Please help spread the word, let's get these two a home!

'Mandy & Felix were so happy when they were rescued in the fall of 2007. Although a bit nervous about their new surroundings after living as ferals, they quickly showed their appreciation for a warm & comfortable home with plenty of food. They absolutely love each other and are seen snuggling, grooming and just enjoying one another's attention, they would never want to be separated. However, Mandy & Felix can not understand why nobody has come to offer them a forever home after years of waiting, showing at adoption events, and wondering when their turn will come. Their sensitive souls are hoping for that one person who will overlook the fact a cage is scary and loud noises will startle them. If that one special person will take them home, they will show their grattitude by snuggling next to them while they watch television and gaze at them appreciatively while being petted. Mandy & Felix would be happy to share a home with other cats, they simply want a loving home where they will be safe and cared for.'

Adoption fee is $80 for both cats. They are spayed/neutered, microchipped and vaccinated. For more information go to www.caws.org or email cawsdotorg@aol.com.

ADHD Becoming More Prevalent In Classrooms?

Oh, I've heard this one before - "Leave him alone, he's just being a kid". If only that could be true.

In today's USA Today is an article regarding the prevalence of kids to be misdiagnosed with ADHD, when in reality, those children are just the youngest in their kindergarten class.

As if that were the only reason.

Here's a fact that not many of you may know:

At least half of those children who are diagnosed with ADHD - boys, specifically - are later found to have a condition known as Klinefelter Syndrome, a condition also known as 47,XXY. While much has been said about the sexual implications - an extra X chromosome - it's what Klinefelter Syndrome (KS) does to the brain. The symptoms are EXACTLY the same as those found in ADHD.

While the mechanics of a boy having KS are known - it happens during meiosis, or at the first cell division at conception - the event is totally random. But while random, it's more likely to happen with mothers of advanced age, after 35 years. And considering many women now having children have waited to start a family, for whatever reason, the chances are now even greater for multitudes of boys to have not ADHD, but Klinefelter Syndrome.

More can be found here (PDF).

This post isn't bs.

Amazing Grace - Only The Black Notes

My cousin sent me the link to the following Youtube video. When first I saw "Amazing Grace - Only The Black Notes", I had this vision of a song within a song - that Amazing Grace would somehow sound different, played with only the black notes - on a piano.

Although that wasn't the case, you WILL be amazed at this:

When Time Didn't Continue If Not For A Mainspring

Well, this has had me stymied.

Of late, I've been noticing that either folks really don't read instruction manuals any more, or they don't understand the intricacies of fine craftsmanship. More likely the latter.

OK, so maybe that's a bit too harsh.

Anyway.

Dear readers, I don't know who you are. For the most part, anyway. Sure, I know who reads my blog on a regular basis. But there are those who find my blog via other means, namely search engines. Those I know, since Clicky tells me so. A couple of weeks ago, an interesting search came from somewhere in Texas - specifically, the search was "changing battery on Stauer 1930s Dashtronic".

Yes.

I'd mentioned this to Mike "from work"; he said maybe whomever this was had gotten it as a gift sans original packaging, or even maybe from a pawn shop. And did not know the watch had to be wound.

I'd kept that incident in the back of my mind, but decided not to comment on it since it likely would be a one-time deal.

That is, until very early yesterday morning.

Someone from Modesto, California did a search for "dashtronic stops running".

Puhleeeze.

From the instruction manual at Stauer's website is this:

"Before the watch is worn for the first time, wind the crown, by hand, 15 to 20 cycles by rolling the crown clockwise (away from you) while in the “0” (zero) position."

Beyond that, interestingly enough, the watch is self-winding. I say "interestingly enough" due to that information not being expressly mentioned anywhere other than as "automatic" in Stauer's literature. My Dad had a self-winding Waltham watch - which I still have to this day - that would always be wound, as he (and I) were always driving for work. I imagine someone with a desk job would find the watch would "run down" if not for some occasional wrist movements.

For me, my Dashtronic needs to be wound first thing Monday morning, but due to all the motions during the week, I don't again need to "jump start" it until the next Monday.

It's a ritual I don't mind in the least.

So, dear readers, the Dashtronic needs to be wound. It doesn't have a battery. And it being automatic, you need to move your wrist.

...from time to time.

Mia and Frisbee

Ever since we brought Mia home from CAWS, we knew immediately we had a winner on our hands. Having excellent house manners, coming when called, sitting on command, you know, all the basics, we were happy.

But then, finding out that she could also not only catch a Frisbee but also return it, well, we knew we couldn't pass her up. We officially adopted Mia as well.

Besides, she gives Bowser something to chew on.

Enjoy.

Why Can't Mormons Send Flowers?

Found on Facebook:

Cats vs. Treadmill

You KNOW you need a smile this morning. Enjoy:

Architecture... On Acid

OK, I'm not sure what the architect was going for in this house's design:

...maybe he was going for "Shock and Awe".

Shock as in "I hope the neighbors like it".

Or "Aw sh!t, it looked better on paper".

Near Fort Bragg off Highway 1.

5 Minute Red Light

Friday night, class was out an hour early, so Marilee and I took advantage of the extra time to go out and 1) get photos of the Golden Gate Bridge from what I knew would be a great vantage point, and 2) get dinner from a typical San Francisco eatery.

The photos were easy - if you haven't seen those yet, they were in my Saturday post. But the dinner? That was an adventure in its own right.

After stopping for the Golden Gate photo-op, Marilee asked if there was a Popeyes Chicken nearby. There was, but due to the nature of the area - finding parking on a Friday night would have added to the problem, we decided instead to find something else with a bit of Bay flair.

I knew Sausalito was nearby, so it was north that we headed.

I'd been to Sausalito on my last trip, but only as a turnaround to go back over the bridge - and pay the southbound-only bridge toll of $7. Jill did well to direct us to a likely-sounding restaurant; alas, the place was no longer there. With that in mind, we decided then to just drive around a bit and hope for the best. As it was indeed a Friday night and all available parking spaces were full, we decided to try our chances further north.

We figured heading back to US-101 was the way to go - that was unfortunately not the case. Sign posts in California are for Californians who traverse those highways and byways on a regular basis, not for those who are used to a pair of mountain ranges on either side of the valley and streets laid out like bombing coordinates.

Upon realizing we were about to head back south over the bridge, I made what approximated an illegal U-turn and headed up a mountain road I'd traveled last time, but kept going. And going. And since the fog had started to settle, it was going to be a crap-shoot whether we ever were going to see the light of day, let alone Dublin or even Utah again.

Admittedly, it was some drive. Probably a drive that non-locals don't get to do, unless they, too, made an illegal U-turn sometime further back. But at one point, a U-turn wasn't an option, once we saw the following sign:

(Yes, it really does say that.)

An additional caveat would have been nice, something like "one-lane tunnel ahead". After going through the aforementioned tunnel, I told Marilee I had to know about this route upon our return to Utah - this post is the result of that search.

More at Caliber.

Oh, and dinner was at McDonalds.

Quintessential San Francisco

It's our last day in San Francisco, and before leaving, I just had to get in a few more shots of the city and environs before departing.

As Marilee put it last evening on the way to the bay, among other things, a somewhat picturesque view would be that of the row houses that are so typical of San Francisco:

And that bridge everyone always talks about? Sure, I got some typical bridge photos when last I was here, but these are particularly grand as the fog was rolling in:

And with any one photo session, there's always a "money shot". Sure, everyone takes a photo of Alcatraz while they're in San Francisco, but this one is the best by far:

Next stop, Reno again - it's still a long way from Utah.

Redwood Road

The drive between Reno and the Mendocino Coast was far from boring; sure, there was middle of nowhere galore, but once we got closer to California, the sightseeing took on another dimension.

A real, honest-to-God Redwood Forest.

I don't know the whys and wherefores of how Utah got its Redwood Road. And besides, if there were redwoods anywhere near the current expanse of Redwood Road, they were likely all cut down sometime back.

But the redwood road we traversed - California Highway 128 - was a sight to see. Sufficiently twisty-turny to give Marilee a slight case of carsickness, I must have imagined myself a James Bond type in an Astin Martin or some such. Driving along such a road makes one feel a bit minuscule if only because the canopy is so far above.

Enjoy the ride.

Rooms with a View

It's day four or our mini-vacation to California. First we hit Reno, then Fort Bragg the Medocino Coast, and now we're in Dublin San Francisco. And for all but the reservations for here, I/we did all the rest of the hotel planning online. Maybe for the last time.

An article last year at CNN's website asked an interesting question: Are travel agents making a comeback? Sounds likely, actually. Unless you're dead set against paying someone to do the same thing you can do online - and you're not interested in frills or must-haves like a view, then go right ahead.

About that term "view" - one caveat I'll start with right away is that a room with a view may only mean a room at a hotel is high enough so as to see out over that which is around the hotel.

Or a view of the ritzy-er hotels you could be staying at.

So after leaving Reno with that view, I was expecting a similar experience on our way to Fort Bragg. After driving onto the property and seeing the overgrowth of pines at the Pine Beach Inn, I suspected the worst - I imagined that the foliage would have blocked the view once we opened the drapes. So I wasn't surprised when I saw this:

...that is, until I went out onto the balcony:

Pine Beach Inn, Fort Bragg, California. Enjoy the view.

Doublin' It Up

On the road again...

Who would have thought that I'd be a travelin' man so soon after my last trip to California. But I am, and Marilee's along for the ride this time. And the destination?

The city by the bay. No, THE City by the Bay.

Yes, I/we're off to San Francisco again.

More edumication.

Just a three-day class, but with the short notice, I'm again driving. Another eleven-hour drive (give or take), something that was communicated to me by not one, not two, but three different people all the way from local entities through corporate travel. All apparently forgetting that I drive for a living anyway.

Heaven forbid they'd freak out if they knew we can drive 300-plus on a given day. The difference being that by and large, we get to sleep in our own beds after the fact.

But this time? At least I have Marilee to remind me to stop occasionally for rest breaks.

But eleven hours? Hardly. We left yesterday morning and pulled into Reno at 4pm Pacific time. Today we're off to Fort Bragg. Tuesday AM we head down to Frisco.

Yeah, the additional time driving is mostly to break up the trip but mostly since we probably won't get another chance to have a vacation this year.

So what if I get educated in the process. And part of that education is I'm tired of driving so much.

Pixels

Old-school awesome:

Yeah, I knew you'd like it.

Old Spice-Y

So I don't watch enough of "regular" TV any more - mostly, it's HSN, QVC, and HGTV. And everything in betwen. That makes up only about six channels the cable system has.

Or so it seems, since there's nary a copy of my fingerprints on the remote.

So apparently a certain set of commercials portraying "the Old Spice Guy" is a hit on the interwebs. I couldn't say as I've never seen any of them, and they apparently don't advertise on those six channels.

But if they're anywhere near as entertsining as this parody of sorts from BYU, maybe I need to do some erstwhile remote-grabbing of my own.

Hope I still remember how to use it.

Can't Argue With This Logic

Well, most of 'em, anyway.

Random bs from the interwebs:

1. Everyone has a photographic memory. Some don't have film.

2. He who laughs last, thinks slowest.

3. A day without sunshine is like, well, night.

4. On the other hand, you have different fingers.

5. Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.

6. Back up my hard drive? How do I put it in reverse?

7. I just got lost in thought. It was unfamiliar territory.

8. When the chips are down, the buffalo is empty.

9. Seen it all, done it all, can't remember most of it.

10. Those who live by the sword get shot by those who don't.

11. I feel like I'm diagonally parked in a parallel universe.

12. He's not dead, he's electroencephalographically challenged.

13. She's always late. Her ancestors arrived on the Juneflower.

14. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be misquoted, then used against you.

15. I wonder how much deeper the ocean would be without sponges.

16. Honk if you love peace and quiet.

17. Pardon my driving, I am reloading.

18. Despite the cost of living, have you noticed how living remains so popular?

19. Nothing is foolproof to a sufficiently talented fool.

20. It is hard to understand how a cemetery raised its burial costs and blamed it on the high cost of living.

21. Just remember...if the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off.

22. The 50-50-90 rule: Anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there's a 90% probability you'll get it wrong.

23. It is said that if you line up all the cars in the world end to end, someone would be stupid enough to try and pass them.

24. You can't have everything, where would you put it?

25. Latest survey shows that 3 out of 4 people make up 75% of the world's population.

26. If the shoe fits, get another one just like it.

27. The things that come to those that wait may be the things left by those who got there first.

28. Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day.
Teach a man to fish and he will sit in a boat all day drinking beer.

29. Flashlight: A case for holding dead batteries.

30. Shin: A device for finding furniture

31. As long as there are tests, there will be prayer in public schools.

32. A fine is a tax for doing wrong. A tax is a fine for doing well.

33. It was recently discovered that research causes cancer in rats.

34. Everybody lies, but it doesn't matter since nobody listens.

35. I wished the buck stopped here, as I could use a few.

36. I started out with nothing, and I still have most of it.

37. When you go into court you are putting yourself in the hands of 12 people that weren't smart enough to get out of jury duty.

38. Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.

Talking Carl

Wow, if I had an iPhone, I could have crap apps like this:

Digital Instant Gratification

Got this one of Bowser a few minutes ago on the patio:

1945-1998

I just watched a most sobering video. It will likely make you feel the same way.

Approaching the sounds a Simon game would make - on acid - or a really pissed-off mother ship from Close Encounters, the following video depicts every atomic explosion from 1945 to 1998:

The first explosion is from the Manhattan Project, the next two are from Nagasaki and Hiroshima.

Then, a metronome-like blip is heard, counting off each month, with a special blip denoting each passing year.

Then come the country blips. The sobering country blips.

The video runs 14 ½ minutes, counting off all 2053 atomic tests and explosions worldwide.

Please share it with your family and friends.

What The Hell Did I Just Find?

Holy crap.

OK, so you're off in some far-flung corner of the web, searching for something - anything - maybe a bit arcane, but you just know you have to find it.

And finally, there, you found it. It has exactly the meaning, the range of emotions is just right, and you begin to absorb it in its entirety. But there's something a bit amiss. Because as you read, you realize that this document isn't exactly something that the general public should be reading.

Confidentiality just went out the window with the baby.

As an example, I'd found, years ago, that a simple search for "Top Secret" might bring up a few references to a movie from the '80's by the same name. Or a blogger with a wild hair about something going on in some high-level cluster... well, you get the idea. Oh, and add "filetype:pdf" to that search and check out the stuff from the "dot gov's" and "dot mil's".

REALLY SCARY SH!T.

Am abusing the hell out of doing seaches like this? Not really. "It's their own fault for not protecting their information behind a major firewall" may not hold up too well in court, but I'm not the one they should be worried about.

It's not like I'm the only one who has figured this out. Besides, anyone interested in getting "secrets" isn't going to be doing it on the web.

Or are they?

WONDERFUL (sarcasm abounding in those caps) little website I became aware of last night makes one wonder just how much we're letting out, and to whom. It's called WikiLeaks. From their website's about page:

"WikiLeaks is a multi-jurisdictional public service designed to protect whistleblowers, journalists and activists who have sensitive materials to communicate to the public. Since July 2007, we have worked across the globe to obtain, publish and defend such materials, and, also, to fight in the legal and political spheres for the broader principles on which our work is based: the integrity of our common historical record and the rights of all peoples to create new history."

Oh, wow.

Grab any subject from today's - or yesterday's or yesteryear's headlines, and you'll be surprised at what you find.

Like, for instance, a microfilm entry from 1961 announcing one Barack Obama to the world from the Honolulu Advertiser newspaper.

Birthers be damned.

Anyway, I won't bore you with more details. You'll just have to experience it for yourself.

Oh, and one might wonder how this site has flown under so many levels of radar since July 2007 - from CNN's website:

"...The site gained international attention in April when it posted a 2007 video said to show a U.S. helicopter attack in Iraq killing a dozen civilians, including two unarmed Reuters journalists."

So go spend some time seeing what's NOT being reported in mainstream media. You'll be captivated, I'm sure.

2204355

No, I don't know what it means, either, but it's taking the web by storm:

Vuvuzela, Utah Style

What A Pain In The Neck

Ever since my spine surgery of a year ago, Marilee (my wife)¹ has always been concerned that I not sleep crooked, lest my neck start hurting. That's not at issue - it's what happens TO my neck that makes some other extremity hurt. If you've never experienced the pain that comes not from one location (an arm) but that the injury is from somewhere else (the neck), well, you really have to be there. But I wouldn't wish this sort of pain to anyone.

Yesterday, I posted that the only issue I'd had was numbness in my fingers if I slept crooked. And that I just KNEW that the numbness wasn't going away.

Well, the numbness is still there, but with an added bit to the mix...

The pain's back. Not like before, thankfully, but sharp little jabs into my left hand's knuckles radiating out to the fingertips.

Meds? OTC pain meds are of no use in cases like this - those kinds of pain killers are only good for constant pain. Pains that come and go require more overall meds. And I'm inclined, this time, to not take them until it starts affecting my job.

Last year, before my surgery, the pain went on for FIVE WEEKS before Doc Peterson's scalpel touched my skin. The final two weeks I was unable to do "that which I get paid for" as the meds through that period were making me dizzy, and thus a danger to myself and other drivers on the road. Not that that's much different than driving normally on Utah roads, but still.

The advantage this time is that I have some foresight as to what the next two weeks MAY be like as I wait for the appointment with Doc Peterson. NO meds until I cannot stand it any more.

And the light at the end of the tunnel?

Can't see it yet.

¹ Mia's the dog, Fo4!

Doc Peterson

"Doc Peterson" refers to my neurosurgeon. MY NEUROSURGEON. Sounds quite impressive, doesn't it?

I'd met MY neurosurgeon last year before I had my spine surgery. He was the one who cut into my neck and did some hardware repair. Replete with screws and a titanium plate. You'll likely remember this photo:

You may be asking yourself "Why is Bob bringing THIS up again?"

Sad but true, folks, I'm having "issues" again.

This time, however, it's not so much the pain as the lack thereof. Oh, sure, there's pain. On a scale of one to ten, previously, the pain in my right arm was about a twenty. Since I don't do pain at all well (I'm a guy, after all), if what I felt before topped out at a ten, what I feel in my left arm now is about a five. So far, anyway.

It's the "lack thereof" is what's bugging me now. Since all those nerves are so intertwined, what can be felt as pain by one nerve bundle can also cause numbness. It's not constant, and usually wakes me up at night. Thus, I haven't been sleeping well. For depending on whether I lay on my left or my right, the numbness occurs in the opposite hand. And when I turn over in my sleep, the return of feeling is what wakes me up.

Laying on the right, the numbness occurs in my left pinky and half my ring finger. To the left, and it's my right index, middle, and half of the ring. And sometimes the same in my right hand as my left.

OK, I just heard a chorus of "HALF"?

[Cue the dermatome diagram]

Remember this? It's a dermatome. Dermatomes are diagrams of the human body and show which nerve bundles go where. Consider it a wiring diagram:

Yes, folks, half. Right there between C7 and C8.

"Wait, Bob, isn't that where your disc degeneration was last year?"

No, that was between C6 and C7. Directly above the one I'm having problems with, now.

So what to do? Well, this post is titled Doc Peterson. MY neurosurgeon, remember?

I've an appointment with him on July 15th. Hopefully the pain and or numbness doesn't get any worse.

Cause it ain't gonna get better in the next two weeks.

A Fine Line

I haven't written about my mental state of late, and now I feel it is necessary to put it out in the open a bit. What I had been feeling lately was a bit of writer's block; you may have noticed I haven't been as brilliantly stimulating as some of my earlier posts were.

For the past few months I've been on a new med that has helped immensely in my dealings with "freaking out" at the least little thing that would otherwise have upset me - like being on call with too many calls in my queue. The new med has simply not let me get that way. Take, for example, a recent weekend where I spent eight hours working on one [expletive deleted] that was eating me alive. I kept my cool for the most part - something that would have left me simmering in a puddle of goo had I not been on this med. Or that's what I think.

But, as I found out just now, I've been experiencing a side effect that I'd considered, but wasn't sure of - the new med has affected my creativity. You may have noticed.

As I had considered that the med was affecting me negatively, and that a recent refill was to blame, I set out to find if, in fact the prescription was filled wrong - it wasn't. But since I was on that subject, I did a simple Google search: anxiety and creativity. From Google, "About 5,350,000 results". Guess I'm not the only one interested in this topic.

Information galore, folks. One such search result goes thusly: In his book "Anger, Madness, and the Daimonic: The Psychological Genesis of Violence, Evil, and Creativity," Dr. Stephen Diamond, ...a clinical and forensic psychologist, works with many talented individuals committed to becoming more creative. "Creativity," he states, " is one of humankind's healthiest inclinations, one of our greatest attributes."

Further, Diamond holds that creativity may be a powerful and often dark endeavor: "The more conflict, the more rage, the more anxiety there is, the more the inner necessity to create. We must also bear in mind that gifted individuals, those with a genius (incidentally, genius was the Latin word for daimon, the basis of the daimonic concept) for certain things, feel this inner necessity even more intensely, and in some respects experience and give voice not only to their own demons but the collective daimonic as well."

[Above are excerpts from an interview with Dr. Diamond in The Psychology of Creativity from TalentDevelop.com]

From that, it would appear, if one removes anxiety from the equation, creativity suffers.

I'm suffering - I think a doctor's appointment is in the offing.

Summer Dayzz

Brilliantly Stimulating conversation Saturday night:

Marilee: "Are those explosions louder than they were last year?"

Me: "Maybe they seem louder because we're older."

There, I said it. We are older.

While I would have liked to have had fireworks pictures from the weekend at Taylorsville Dayzz, there aren't any since a) once you've seen one fireworks display you've seen them all, or b) I couldn't find the base plate for my tripod. Or didn't look hard enough. Maybe a bit of both.

And that's not the half of it. Every year we've watched the fireworks, we had the whole fam damily over to watch; this year it was just Marilee and myself. Oh, Taylor came out from the dungeon a couple times, but not for very long.

But some of those fireworks - not the more-for-show oohs and ahhs fireworks - but the shock and awe booming fireworks took us by surprise. The ones that echoed off the surrounding hills for-ev-er actually shook us to the core.

The best thing about the weekend fireworks spectacle had to have been from Taylor Friday night - we were sitting quietly in the family room when the first report was heard...

Me: "Must be ten o'clock."

Marilee: "Oh, the dogs!"

The dogs - all four of 'em - began a whimper/cry/what-the-hell-was-that chorus. It was all we could do to keep them still.

Just after that, he came up from downstairs...

Taylor: "Are those fireworks?"

Me: "Yes."

Taylor: "Are you sure?"

[crickets]

Taylorsville Dayzz

Yes, again with the double ZZ's.

It's the beginning of summer, so that must mean it's time for Taylorsville Dayzz. Real, fun, family entertainment just around the corner from the bs factory.

The Dayzz were live this morning on Channel 13 with the Beatles' tribute band and Big Buddah. Looks like it will be just as fun (and hectic) as in years past.

And fireworkzz tonight and Saturday.

I even hear there will be an [expletive deleted] over there.

New Family Member(s)

The parentheses are necessary - allow me to explain...

After losing Princess recently, I thought I'd never want another dog around; Bambi and Lexie would have to be it for quite a while.

THAT was before I met Bowser.

Bowser is a purebred mutt. Somewhere in that gene pool is Labrador Retriever. And - I couldn't believe this when I heard - he may have Shar Pei mixed in for good measure.

Yes, HE.

Marilee has said in the past that she only liked girl dogs; tummy rubs were always, uh, nicer, as there wasn't anything to "get in the way".

Since he's only still a puppy, that's not much of an issue. Honestly, I don't think it'll be an issue later, either. But maybe it's just a guy thing.

Oh, yeah... the parentheses issue...

When Marilee found out about Bowser, she also found out about the Mom Dog, Mia. She'd had ten puppies - yes, TEN. Most have been adopted, but as is the case with most puppies turned over to shelters and humane societies, the puppies are adopted first, with the Mom Dogs left for... OK, we don't talk about that. But it happens, folks. The harsh realities of the pet over-population explosion.

We thought it would be an excellent idea to adopt the puppy and foster the Mom Dog. That way, they could sleep together; the puppy would have that bond with his Mom, keeping him content, and QUIET.

In other words, no late-night whimpering.

Yeah, THAT happened. The first three nights, we had them in an upstairs bedroom in a crate, and for the most part it worked. Until, of course, the bond between the puppy, Mom Dog, and us developed.

Yes, the Mom Dog, too.

Mia, the Mom Dog, has become part of the family, though not officially - thus the parentheses. Bowser is used in the singular; the plural hasn't happened yet.

YET.

BP Coffee Spill

BP Oil Well Video This Morning

What's going on down there?

A friggin' test pattern?

Get the Story Straight

This is NOT about work. OK, well, sort of.

So as to keep work out of this post, we'll use some aliases - this is about Huey, Dewey, Louie, and me.

Since Friday last, I'd had a catastrophic failure on the work laptop. Gravity played a part. Suffice to say the PCMCIA slot was rendered inoperable. A call to Huey was made.

I should probably note here that the reason for the PCMCIA slot to be so important is that in my job of working on [expletive deleted]'s, I must remain in contact with the cloud almost 24/7. That means having an "aircard", or more accurately, a cellular modem. So without an aircard, I must rely on Wi-Fi hotspots and more conventional means of communication like two cans and a piece of string.

So Huey said they'd contact Dewey to dispatch Louie out to work on my laptop the beginning of the week; if I did not hear from Dewey in 48 hours, to call Huey back.

Monday came and went with no call from Dewey, so Tuesday I was on the phone to Huey.

Turns out that Dewey had, in fact tried to contact me, but was given an old phone number I'd been issued years ago. Why Huey didn't know that is beyond me, as they were the ones who had given me the new number. Once I'd given Huey the number, it was only a matter of time before Louie was calling me. On Wednesday.

Louie was booked solid that day, so I was penciled in for Thursday.

On Thursday, since I had to go to the office for a mundane task anyway, I met Louie there. And at noon, my laptop was... still broken. Louie had not brought enough parts.

OK, I've been in the printer, computer, and electronics-in-general repair field for thirty-four (34) years. Repairs never go as planned. So it did not surprise me that this happened. After all, though I AM authorized to do such repairs myself - certifications and all - I am NOT authorized to repair this one. Being "on the other side of the repair counter" as it were, and being a "customer", it's not my place to judge. I was told by Louie that extra parts would be in on Friday.

And no phone call was forthcoming on Friday.

As I was not on call last week, I wasn't terribly concerned. I would be this week, as I am on call. So time was now of the essence.

During the oh-so-productive daily conference call yesterday, I was asked if my laptop was repaired yet. No. Though I did say I wasn't pleased, and would be on the phone to Dewey after said call. Not having any calls to go on immediately, I just happened to look to see if there were any emails to deal with, and there, in living color, was an email from Huey.

Paraphrasing here, "Louie tried to contact you, but your phone number has been disconnected."

AAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

"...and here's Louie's phone number."

Louie said he could be at the office by 1pm. Yippee!

I was at the office early, and, since the laptop would be out of commission for a while, looked to see if there was anything else I should be concerned about. Oh yeah. Another email from Huey.

"In reference to my previous email, please do not call Louie directly; instead, call Dewey to make an appointment."

Frustration? You betcha.

Dewey said they'd dispatch someone. For TUESDAY.

AAAAAAAAAAA... oh hell, see above.

A quick and dirty email was in the offing for Huey. "So I called Louie as you suggested, bypassing Dewey. Louie said he'd meet me to do the repair. Now you tell me to call Dewey; they are dispatching Louie for Tuesday. This is ridiculous."

"And, by the way, why are you giving Dewey (and Louie by association) my old, company-issued phone number? Do you people not have access to updated information?"

"Oh, and since Louie already said he'd be here by 1pm, I'm hanging around a bit to see if he comes."

And he did. By 2pm, I was off on a call, again in the cloud.

Now, the real question is, will someone show up at the office today to work on my laptop? Probably, but I'll never know.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie still have my old phone number.

Green Points?

THIS is for all you old-timers out there, and I'm sure there are plenty of you.

My Mom - and your Mom, I'm sure - collected them religiously. Maybe, just maybe, there are some of these in some long-forgotten junk drawer in your kitchen, but more likely in your parents' junk drawer.

What are they?

S&H Green Stamps.

And here's the shocker, gang: They're still around!

So they're now referred to as Green Points. But you can still cash in your old stamps. And for that next trivia night - S&H are the initials for Sperry and Hutchinson.

The kicker I suppose is that they weren't really all that economical, considering how much you'd have to spend to get the stamps.

$1200 in purchases for a ten-dollar gift card.

Such a deal!

The Empire Strikes Back - From the 1950's?

If it Was My Home

Visualizing the BP Oil Spill Disaster

What would happen if the gulf oil spill was in our own back yards? How much of a reaction would we have?

Well, someone has merged the information provided by the NOAA with the technology from Google Maps and provided just such a visualization. Here's the map from today, centered on where I live:

Puts it all in perspective.

Take a look yourself at the website.

BP's Response to the Gulf Oil Spill

OK, I'm jumping into the fray here.

So BP has turned the Gulf of Mexico into a cesspool. And thus the states bordering the Gulf. And the response from the United States has been appalling.

But I have a question - a question that appears to not have been asked yet:

Can the British Government do anything about a company that has its roots from that country? Or is that too much of a long shot?

Should we all be checking out the BBC rather than CNN for the latest news?

Lightning Storms

I posted the following graphic last year on June 1st. Since it's that time of year again for the awesome lightning storms we get in Utah, I'm re-posting that original entry, a real-time (OK, 15 minute delay) display of all US Lightning Storms:

Don't Buy This Book

Again, DO NOT BUY THIS BOOK:

No bs here, folks.

The book pictured above (ISBN 1604592680) is supposedly a compilation of the US Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, and the Articles of Confederation. If that was all there was to this little tome, I'd have no qualms in recommending it. But look beyond the cover, and one sees what this travesty is all about:



The publisher, Wilder Publications, is a "print-on-demand" outfit; send them your text, they'll turn it into a book. Apparently, any text.

Whoever submitted this "compilation" to Wilder for publication should be ashamed. There is no need whatsoever to suggest these documents should be read with anything less than reverence, for what they say is why this country is the greatest in history.

I have personally not read nor do I own this book. What I have read are the comments left on Amazon's website, to wit:

"I don't know what to make of [this]. If it says what I think it says I think I want a Constitution from another publisher! That statement seems to say that the Publisher is telling us how to read it! They are saying that it's principles couldn't possibly mean the same thing today! What arrogance! I hope they don't mean these things but how can I not come to these conclusions?"

And:

"Do not buy this product. The authors have put a disgraceful passage in the beginning of this book that represents the worst in progressive thinking and political correctness. The constitution is perfect as written and there is no need to apologize for it. The publisher should close it's doors and move to France. "

From what I gather from the comments at Amazon, the seventy-two pages of the book are not just of the three listed documents, but of commentary from someone picking them apart to satisfy their own political agenda. To make matters worse, the book has a sales rank of 500 at Amazon. I shudder to think just who is buying this book - politicians, perhaps?

Sounds to me that the publishers are the winners here and not the American People.

An Emptiness In My Heart

"You look like you just lost your best friend."

"No, my best friend is you. Maybe my best four-legged friend."

That was a conversation from Thursday afternoon Marilee and I had.

The absence of Princess has left such a hole in my heart I didn't think was possible. It's all I can do to not think of her. Even now, going out the front door, I have to watch myself that I don't trip over her... but she's not there.

In the final weeks of her life, she slept most of the time, never moving very far from her bed in the front room. But when I'd pass her by on the way out the door, I'd expect her to move into the family room because Little Bit would bother Princess to the point of him taking over the bed and making her move. That was the extent of her movement during the day; that, and her wanting to be let out and back in. Hardly a full life there at the end.

Did I do the right thing, letting her go before she would become so invalid that she wouldn't be able to move of her own accord? I like to think so. Right up to the last, as she was smothering me with sticky kisses as she passed, I know she could see my love for her in my eyes.

The emptiness remains.

Manipulative

"So she sent you on another treat run?"

That was from the lady at the local convenience store just now.

Months ago, Marilee had sent me on a similar "treat run": "Just get an assortment". Not knowing what exactly that meant, I ended up spending twenty bucks or so on candy, candy, and more candy. That treat run's assortment lasted less than a week.

This evening, the conversation started out as it usually does:

"Do you need cigarettes?"

Yeah, I know, I know, I don't NEED cigarettes. It's a bad habit. It'll kill me. So will the Peterbilt with my name on it, what with the miles I drive.

"Yes, I need cigarettes. What do you want at Holiday?"

"How long have we been together?"

"Six years."

So I know what she wants.

On the way out of the house, I said "I bet they ask if I'm on a treat run."

Yup.

Dignity

Dignity, in all it's incarnations, means a being has an innate right to respect and be assured ethical treatment.

Any being.

To live ones' life with dignity is a quality we should all strive for. And at at the end of our lives, we should hope for the same.

So, too, should our companion animals, our pets. Live life with all the energy God has given them, and when the time comes to depart, pray that there is no pain, only dignity.

We, as humans, have been given a most amazing gift; to release them from any pain they may have incurred in their lifetime and let them go with dignity.

We let one of our dogs go this morning, Princess. After taking a few too many tumbles down stairs, she wasn't getting around as well as she once did, and though she was still eating well and doing her business outside, the quality of life wasn't there any longer. She had problems remembering where she was, and would walk herself into a corner, not being able to rescue herself.

Last night, her last on earth, we gave her the best wet food, cookies and cheese. But where there once was a dog who would literally jump with excitement at her evening cheese, she stumbled and almost fell over.

Yes, it was time.

This morning, Princess went to Rainbow Bridge.

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown...

Huhhhhhhhhhh

Early on in my relationship with Marilee, it was clear that one of my habits was going to be problematic. No, not that one.

Or that one.

Actually, it was a habit I was not even aware of. "What's the matter?" is what Marilee would say. Not knowing what the hell she was referring to, I'd say the classic maleness "nothing", perhaps with a not-too-subtle air of what-the-hell-made-you-think-there's-something-wrong attitude.

This went on for some time.

It all came to light when Marilee had told me something Jenn had said to her. Marilee enlightened me after one such occasion, when she related the following conversation:

Jenn: "What's wrong with Bob?"
Marilee: "Oh, that's just what he does."

Later:

Bob: "What the hell are you talking about?"
Marilee: "Huhhhhhhh"
Bob: "What?"
Marilee: "Huhhhhhhh. You are, al least five times a minute, exhaling really loud. People think you're upset."

On occasion, perhaps. But as I said, I'm not even aware I'm doing it.

OK, so I know I do this. Admittedly, I do catch myself from time to time. But I thought it was only a family matter.

Not so.

While in California for training the last two weeks (yes, you can see where this is going), someone - cannot remember who - caught on that I was upset somehow. Hardly. Though not a vacation, which is something the instructor makes perfectly clear at the beginning, I consider any time you're not working on that which you do on a regular schedule, a vacation. Even going to school. Sure, you're still on a schedule, but it's not your regular schedule.

Anyway.

Apparently, I was on the five-times-a-minute schedule and was exhaling rather loudly. We'd already commented on several of the attendees' habits - profuse use of the word "thingy", "Yo" used as an exclamation, and one person then said "Huhhhhhhhh".

I must have been red-faced, and busted up laughing.

During that evening's phone call home, I had to tell Marilee.

After she quieted down...

"Huhhhhhhhh".

This Is NOT How To Fly Out Of DFW Airport