Faux Internet Wisdom

Know what I mean?

(Yes, this is mine.) (The comment and the picture.)




[Please, someone, make the comment I want to hear about the photo.  I am afraid I made it too subtle...]

Feeding Myself

My wife is a wonderful cook.  But for these three years while she is at the U of M, I have had plenty of opportunity to cook.  Sometimes for the two of us.  Much of the time, for myself.

Sometimes, my meals look like this.

Yes, that's leftover pizza.

But then again, I have made myself some real meals.  And, though I am not sure I would have predicted it, I have even had the chance to created one or two things.  Last night, I had one of those "recipes" again.   I will make it for Sherry sometime, now that I am pretty sure I can recreate it.  (When I first put the ingredients together, I didn't exactly keep track of things.  So when I made it yesterday, I paid more attention.)

It's a chicken bake.  I like it.

Guess Which

One of these things will travel with me to the Cities this weekend, when I go spend time with Sherry.

The other won't last that long.

Guess which.

If it's Wednesday, I must be ....

Answer the Question (Please?)

To Whom it May Concern,

We're going about our day.  Normal life. 

I realize I need to know something.  I know you have the answer. So I ask you a question.

And you answer a completely different question!

Which leaves me looking like this:

Oh, you think I meant to ask something else?  You think I was beating around the bush, or implying something, or had a hidden agenda?

Well, people do that sometimes.  But I was not doing that.

Just answer the question I asked.  Please?

Then, if I was beating around the bush, implying something, or had a hidden agenda, it falls on me to state the real question.

But if I wanted to know the answer to the question I asked, we'll be done.

Thank you.  Thank you very much.

Lappy New Gear

Yeah, so, I got this yesterday.

I opted for the solid state drive. It's so light, and quiet, without a drive spinning inside it.

First new computer for ME - my own personal use - in seven years.

ThinkPad T520.  Windows 7.

Now to install it with all the important stuff.  Heroes of Might & Magic.  Magic: Online.  Ticket to Ride.  Civilization.

Oh, yeah, and Quicken.

The Illusion of Choice

I find this interesting.

And, yes, I follow Robert Duncan McNeill on Twitter. 

And Jewel Staite.  And (as I have mentioned before) Wil Wheaton and Nathan Fillion.

Planning Pays; and I Spend

Saturday I decided to take care of the annual chore of draining my lawnmower of gas.  I typically combine this with the chore of testing out the snowblower to ensure I'm ready for the first snow of the year.

At first, all went well.  Raised the mower to a height above the level of the snowblower's gas tank.  Siphoned the gas from mower to blower.

I checked the oil in the snowblower -- yuck, that stuff is dirty.  But hey, we can test to see if it starts.  Hey, there seems to be a little gas leakage.  Tighten up a valve.  OK, prime the line with nine or ten pumps to the priming bulb and yank the cord.

You see, people, this is a very old snowblower.  We've been in this house over 19 years.  That means we are heading into the 20th winter.  For the first couple of winters, I cleared our 100-foot driveway with snow shovels.  Remember, though, that I was much younger then.  but I was also poorer.  Shoveling was a financial necessity.

But finally, a couple of years into owning this house, we got the snowblower.  It's the only one we've ever owned, so having it last for over 15 years is pretty darn good, considering how many times it gets used each winter.

Anyway, I yanked the cord.  The engine coughed a couple of times, but killed.  This, however, is not unexpected.  Even at its best, in recent years, this blower doesn't start on the first pull.

So I pulled a second time.

And it started right up!  Huzzah!

Oops.  Except for one small problem.  On that second yank, I was left holding the handle and the cord of the starter.  Completely pulled free from the blower.  Though the blower was running, if I ever shut it off, I would not get it started again.

I had three options.  But two, really, for anyone who knows me.

1. Buy a new snowblower.
2. Get this snowblower fixed.
3. Fix it myself.

The real point of this post is that, with any of those options, it would be technically possible that I would have a working snowblower before the first snowfall!  This, my friends, is what preparation is all about.  If a snowblower is going to break, wouldn't it be nice if it did so BEFORE you needed it?  Yet how often is that going to happen?  For me, it did!

So, what did I do?

Option 3 is laughable.  I have the mechanical aptitude of a ten-thumbed rock.

Option 2 is possible, but seriously, this thing is over 15 years old, has been giving us trouble for years (I am the only one m=in my family who has been able to use it for years, because I am the only one who knows how to set the choke "just so" and prime the engine "just right" to get it to stay running.)

So I went with Option 1.  I found a good looking Craftsman on sale at the local hardware store - one of those great local stores which always give excellent advice and service.  I bought it.  It will be delivered on Friday.  I just saw the week's forecast.  No snow between now and Friday.

So, by preparing early, I saved myself at least one frustrating shovel session, and I was able to buy the replacement snowblower without fighting crowds of people doing the same!

To quote Hannibal:  "I love it when a plan comes together."



P.S. For some strange reason, despite the fact that I have always, always, always spoken and heard these devices called "snowblowers," the advertisements all call them "snow throwers."  What do you call them where you live?

When Cometh Normal?

I was recently asked to describe a normal week in my life. I was stumped.  It's past mid-October.  And I still have not had a "normal" week this fall.

A "normal" week, during the school year, is certainly different than it once was.  After all, Sherry's up in St. Paul, so it's hard to think of that as "normal."  But go with me here.

Criterion #1: A "normal" week should have me in Rochester, all week.

Since the beginning of the school year, I don't think that has happened yet.  If it has, I don't remember it.


One week, I didn't travel for work, but I spent the weekend at the apartment in St. Paul.  Is that normal?  It was relaxing, that's for sure.  (There is no lawn to mow at the apartment. Big plus!  But not normal.)

Next week, I think I will be in Rochester all week.  But while being in Rochester is necessary for a week to feel normal, it's not sufficient.  You see, one or two of my evenings will be tied up with work commitments, so I will not have to get dinner for myself.  So that's not normal either.

Criterion 2: A "normal" week includes meals I have to plan for, shop for, and prepare.  That almost happened this week -- I can count the D&D group feeding me as "normal" now, since I plan for that meal, even if I don't prepare it.  It occurs regularly enough.  But, I will be eating dinner outside of Rochester Thursday through Sunday, because we get to fly to NYC to see Leah perform.  Which is wonderful!  It's just not "normal." 

Criterion 3: A "normal" week has a five-day work week, Monday through Friday. 

I'm thinking I will not get a "normal" week until sometime in January.

And so, if "normal" is that rare, it can't be "normal" can it?

I just have to face it.  I don't do "normal."

Well, normally, I don't.

To study the abnormal is the best way of understanding the normal.

William James 

Will Power - The Shirt

I have a great t-shirt.  I love it.  It's just so multi-appropriate for me!

As I said yesterday, it's the name of a Fantasy Football team I run.

And, yes, I am a fan of Will, the Bard, who wrote all the plays represented on the shirt.  (What?  You hadn't looked that closely yet?  Well, click the photo for a closer look.)

In my work life, I happen to work on IBM Power Systems, so there's that.

I am also a firm believer that "will power" is a key attribute for building a life that is satisfying.  It can be taken too far, but in my opinion, the more common frustrations in life are related to knowing what we ought to do, but not having the will power to do them.



And then, of course, I am a Will.  I love having the illusion of power. Having my surname in such a great phrase is a kick!

Ahhh, Pharmaceuticals

This post is brought to you by the letter "Ph" for "Pharmaceuticals."

Tuesday afternoon, my mouth started hurting.  This did not seem all that strange to me, because my throat was hurting, too.  I figured I was getting a flu.

By Wednesday afternoon, the throat pain was subsiding, but the pain in my mouth was increasing.  It throbbed.  It felt like someone was pouring lava through my jaw, in hot pulses.  I called a dentist.  My appointment?  Thursday at 2:00 PM.

I did not really sleep Wednesday night.  I moaned.  I took ibuprofen.  I rolled, tossed, turned.  I moaned again.

By the time I made it to the appointment, I was sure I had an acid-based lifeform burrowing through my teeth and jaws.  But no.  It is "just" an abscess.

I was prescribed Vicodin for the pain, and anti-biotics to attack the infection.  I went home & moaned some more.  I tried the Vicodin.  Seemingly no effect.  But with a little help from some more ibuprofen, and (I think) the switch from a cold compress to a warm one, I got a couple of hours of sleep.

Now, thanks to the antibiotics, my pain has subsided.  My mouth feels strange, but I have some hope that I might actually sleep tonight.  And if I can do that, then I will have some hope that a flight from MSP to Amsterdam (AMS) on the way to Milan (MXP) will be endurable.

And, yes, I'm getting old if I think writing a blog entry about aches & pains is interesting.

But really, I am just thankful that we have enough medical knowledge that my painful condition can be handled so quickly.

I was definitely not meant to live in the 19th century.  Or before.  Pain = Not For Me.

IISAS

I think it's official.

I suffer from a new disorder.

Internet-Induced Short Attention Span.

I can't wait any longer than two seconds for a page to load.

OK, that's generous;  I can't even wait one second.

So I hit another link on another tab, hoping it will respond to me faster.

Which, if you know anything about how the internet works, just makes things slow down.

Which makes me even more impatient.

Which is why my paragraphs are one sentence long.

And short.

Too.

That's a lot of "One"

I know, I know. Just 10 days ago, we had a day with all ones.

And 10 months from now we'll have another one.

But honestly, isn't it cool?

Let's just enjoy it, shall we?

I think I will listen to "1" by The Beatles today.

Maybe I will buy that great song from "A Chorus Line."

It's a day for "One."

I Had That Nightmare Again

It's been quite a while, but I had "That Nightmare" again.

There are various bad dreams which seem to be common among groups of people. While it is not the worst nightmare I have had, the most common nightmare I have is one I know I share with many other people:

I forgot to go to class for an entire semester!


For a studious person, such as I was and am, it's easy to see how any anxiety going on in my life might be translated into this sort of dream. For my formative years, the idea that I might get to the end of a semester and suddenly realize that I had never gone to a specific class, so I was bound to fail -- well that would have seemed the worst sort of horror. To be called a failure, to be embarrassed like that, to have let bad memory or bad decisions hurt my reputation -- it would have been awful.

Which means, of course, that I never experienced the kinds of real horrors which would fill my dreams if I had ever had to live through them - disaster, physical abuse, death of close loved ones and so on. I'm sure, if I had dealt with those as a young person, new nightmares would have replaced this scholarship-centered one.

Nevertheless, this is a dream that causes me panic. It has been a very long time since I had this nightmare. I suspect that Sherry attending college again put that academic environment in my head. And then I have two big work-related things surrounding my Thanksgiving vacation, making it somewhat hard for me to just relax into and out of the long break. Given those two factors, I can easily see why my sleep was disrupted.

Sure, it makes perfect sense. Now. When I am awake.

But during the dream -- well -- panic and fear and sweat and grasping for excuses -- it overwhelmed me. It might not be Freddy Krueger, but for me, but it's pretty close.

Sweet dreams, everyone.

Cute Little Girl's Dance Leadership

Cute. And then way cool.



Saw this on Smacksy.

Having a Cold

Having a Cold ...

... slows down my brain
... dulls enjoyment
... keeps me awake when I should be asleep
... makes me sleepy when I should be awake
... is loud and messy
... ruins the fun of running
... just plain sux.

Memory

So here's some irony.

A few weeks back, I had two experiences in quick succession which pointed out to me the importance of memory -- and specifically the times when memory fails us.

I decided to blog about them, but decided to do it "later" so I just created a post for sometime in the future, and left myself a note. Here it is:

The Prestige and the Good Samaritan

OK, so now it's time for that post to get written and ... you guessed it ... I don't remember (exactly) what I was going to write.

So, dredging my memory, what was I going to write? Well, the first note is about The Prestige, which is a movie with twists and mystery. I own it, and it's fun to see multiple times partly because of things you remember on subsequent viewings which are set up early in the film, but not really noticed until you see it again. This means that part of the fun is having memory. Yet there are so many things going on, so many clues, so many interactions, that it's hard to remember everything, so some of the fun is also seeing things that you don't remember having seen before. [I find it ironic, again, that I forgot to put The Prestige in my Movie Micro-Reviews from that viewing.]

So what about The Good Samaritan? As I start writing I'm less certain. Here's what I'm sure of. Pastor Siri preached on The Good Samaritan, but as is typical, before she preached the lesson was read. As I heard the lesson, I remember thinking "Hey, I just thought of another meaning I don't think I've ever heard preached." And then, sure enough, Siri preached on that meaning. So, had I really never heard that interpretation, or did I just not remember it? And now that I am trying to remember it, why can't I?

Memory is a strange thing.

And now that I'm writing about it, I think I do remember. It has to do with looking at ourselves as the injured person, and thinking about who would be a "Samaritan" to us. And can we learn to accept help from someone who would be as objectionable to us as a Samaritan would have been to a Jewish person of the day? Yes, that was it. I just needed to jog my memory. It was a very good sermon.

I remember now.


[741]

20 Days in June

Weather records are so strange.

It seems like we keep setting records lately. (See Record-Setting March for example.)

OK, part of why it seems like that is there are statistics for so many things. (Sorta like baseball.)

Still.

In June 2010, Rochester had 20 days in which there was measurable rain. 20 out of 30! That broke the record by two days.

It was a wet, wet June.

I'm just sayin'.

Warwick Castle

I attended an event at Warwick Castle near Stratford-upon-Avon tonight (it's in Warwickshire, naturally) and it was a blast, a hoot, a lot of fun!

Much like attending the Renaissance festival, the staff members were dressed in period costume and stayed in character all night. We, the guests, were to be given a tour of the castle (or a bit of it, anyway) and then treated to a meal, for the next day we would be going into battle for the Earl of Warwick, Richard Neville (the Kingmaker), to put Henry IV on the throne in place of Edward IV (who had been supported by the very same Earl when he rose to power.)

The setting may sound grim, but the experience was anything but. We had a jester doing tricks with a spinning toy on the grounds before we went in. We had a laundry mistress lead us through the castle showing us (wax figure) inhabitants at typical chores, we had a passed-over knight, and the young man for whom he was passed over poking fun at one another and the audience all night, we had serving wenches, and we had a magician who made us laugh and laugh. (I still have the invisible cards he gave to Jenny during his card trick.) [Yes, I do! She gave them to me.]

Oh, and we had food. Good food. Pea soup (really -- it was good -- and not as much like fog as one might expect), bread, a tart with some sort of seafood in it, a nicely seasoned chicken breast, spring potatoes, salad, and a great "pudding" of some sort with a berry and cream crumble to it. Yum.

When I return home, I will post a photo or two. It will help me remember this -- perhaps the most fun I've ever had at a work-related event.

Beer #2

I don't drink beer.

It's not as if I am morally opposed to hops, fermentation, or cool drinks. I just don't drink beer.

But then again, I don't refuse to drink beer, either.

So earlier this year, I had a beer with some people I see once or twice a year, because we went out to a bar, and that seems like a place to have a beer, if you're ever going to have one. But I jokingly told my companions that I drink only two beers each year, so they should feel privileged to be around for one of them. (The estimate on the number of beers each year is not the joke. It's about right. The joke is that anyone should feel any special pride about being around for the consumption of one.)

I've now had Beer #2. I'm in England, in Stratford upon Avon in fact, and for dinner last night we ate at a real English pub. So, I felt obligated to eat some batter-fried fish, chips, peas and then accompany it with a beer.

So, is that it? Am I done for the year? Well, honestly, I don't much care for the taste of the stuff, so it could be. On the other hand, I'll be in England a few more days, and the beer I tried was not very English, so I feel a cultural curiosity to try something more traditional. I had something called a Stella, I guess. It seemed quite a bit like what I've had before in the US. Oh, and it was served cold -- I'm told that a true English Pub Beer is warm. So I'm pretty sure I have not had a "real beer" yet.

As we were discussing beer drinking and cigar smoking the night before, someone postulated that most people who drink beer remember the first beer they ever had and remembers not liking the taste. An Irishman in our group said he didn't remember that; he couldn't recall the day of his birth that well. It was pretty funny.