A Blog of Nail Biting

It's been quite a while since I've blogged... And who knows how long it will be until the next time? While we have had some time here and there to just relax and fart around, the pace around here will be ramping up quite a bit in the next few weeks.

It's getting close--Very close--To wedding day, and I don't mind telling you I'm nervous.

I'm not sure exactly why. I know a major part of it is worry that's I'm going to drop the ball. There are a lot of preparations that have been made and a lot are still in the works, which is pretty much the way weddings and other special events go. Suzie is doing almost all of it. That's where my worry comes in. She is doing a fantastic job, don't get me wrong, but I'm worried about my part of it because I'm not exactly stellar when it comes to doing a lot of things at a frantic pace. If she's doing 90% of the stuff that has to be done, that leaves me with 10%. I don't mind the uneven stack of duties--After all, she has more hour in the day at her disposal, and quite frankly, she's much better at getting things done than I am anyway. No, what bothers me is that I might drop the ball somewhere in the 10% that I have. While I have a small amount of duties, they are very important ones. Most of them are food and shopping related, and our list is fairly substantial. I worry about the things that I am going to be cooking. The amounts, the start times, the cooking times, the seasonings, the, the, the. Every time I think about it I get nervous all over again.

I'm nervous also that I'm going to be leaving my home. This is my home. This was my sanctuary when I escaped the bounds of a troubled marriage, and now I'm going to be giving it up--To go the other direction. I'm going to miss this place. I like this place. When I leave Suzie's house on the evenings that I'm visiting, I still always feel good to come home. To my home. To my bed. It's just hard. Even Sue has thought of this place as an escape. I'm going to miss the great water pressure, the two bathrooms, and the big rooms, and the nice driveway.

I'm nervous about having to move all my stuff and not having room to put it. My stuff is pretty equally split between house and garage, and it's going to be a tight squeeze in both departments. Sure, a lot of my stuff is crap--Purely functional and nothing more--But it's my crap.

I'm nervous about the impending confrontations that will undoubtedly surface when it comes time to decide which of our pots and pans stays and which ones go.

I never really thought much before about the ease of vehicle parking, but that's another thing that makes me feel weird (I'm using nervous a lot). Here where I live, I don't have to "juggle" vehicles if I want to take the Harley to work in the morning, but obviously that will have to change. There will be no more going to work on two wheels "on a whim". I will have to plan such a morning departure the previous evening. I know I'm going to catch hell for using the "C" word again, but I am a considerate person, and starting a Harley up in the back yard in suburbia just doesn't sit well with me. Trouble is, that's about all you can do really--Pushing a Harley across wet grass, through gravel, a gate, and between cars is a recipe for disaster.

Yeah, I'm nervous. On the other hand, so is Suzie. She is welcoming me into her home--A home that she has groomed and built into a place she could be proud of. When you stand in her home and look around, evidence of her hard work is all around you. She will most likely have trouble allowing me full freedom--Husband or not.

It's going to be hard, and I'm nervous.

It's Been a Week

Last Friday I received my new iPod Touch, and I've had a fair amount of time to really evaluate what it does and how well it does it. Do I feel good about my purchase? Hell yeah!

It's fair to say that I've given it a good test. I've become familiar with the iTunes interface (which is what links and syncs it to my computer), and I've downloaded several apps (all free ones so far). Some of them were amazingly cool, some were just very handy, and of course--A few sucked and were removed. I've even gone so far as to "jailbreak" the thing, which is what the hacker community calls it when you unlock your iTouch or iPhone (they're almost identical) by re-writing the built in firmware that operates them. The firmware is basically like hard-wired software--It's the operating system that's contained inside. When you do that, it gives them the ability to download things from places other than The Mother Ship (Apple's iTunes site).

The built-in wireless runs circles around the Dell Axim PDA that I had previously. This thing connects instantly! The built-in browser works totally flawlessly, giving you the ability to zoom in and out at will just by gesturing on the touch screen.

The touch screen itself is worthy of a mention, but words can't do it justice, so I'll move on.

The fact that it has some sort of leveling gadget built it comes into play in several of the apps. One of them actually is a level if you can believe that! Here's a pic I stole from their site:



You can even play an electronic version of the game of Labyrinth on it by holding it and tilting it back and forth to guide the steel marble through the maze of walls and holes. It's much better than the original wooden box version of the game that you put on your lap. The coolest "useless" app by far is the Zippo lighter. It puts a full size lighter onscreen that you actually open and light. When the flame is burning, the flame actually behaves like a real flame, moving back and forth when you tilt the iPod. Bizarre! If nothing else, it puts back the possibility of using a flame in concert when it's time for the crowd to signal an encore instead of just a lit cell phone screen. Check out an excellent YouTube video of it HERE and you'll see what I mean.

Apparently it also contains some sort of built-in GPS device, because when you go to Google Maps (an included app) it asks if it can use your current location as your point of origin. It's pretty accurate too.

As I mentioned earlier, I unlocked it, or "jailbreaked" it as they say. (Hey, don't look at me--I know it's bad grammar, but that's the term they use.) I did it a couple days ago, but restored it back to factory settings again last night. I wouldn't have even attempted it unless I knew I could restore it with the factory firmware. Enough of that. I determined that there is no reason for me to get apps from anywhere other than the approved Apple site. They were riddled with ads and even slowed down my internet access. Nah, I'll stick with the straight and narrow on this one. It works great and apps for these things are dirt cheap anyway. Most of the apps that you actually pay for are only 99 cents anyway, so why gamble? Being the "tweaker" I am, I had to try it though...

Sorry I'm gushing, but everything about this thing impresses me. When you own something like this you can truly understand what drove Apple stock through the roof in the last couple of years--It's cutting edge usability! Whether it's for holding music or pictures, or running any of the myriad of little applications that make life easier, it's great.

OMG, this blog post looks like a public service announcement!

(We now return you to your regularly-scheduled program)

Working Together

Sue made an interesting comment yesterday. It came during the process of the new stove installation.

See, Suzie is the kind of person that won't wait for her significant other to do something if she can do it herself. It's something she has learned over the years of her previous marriages. It became clear to her quite a while back that if she wanted something done she'd better do it herself, or be very patient. Through years of learning and doing all matter of things herself, she has become a very capable person--Able to do anything she sets her mind to.

So back to the stove installation.

Naturally, with the new stove (she keeps calling it my stove) sitting in her dining room staring at her and plenty of time on her hands she wasn't about to let that project go untried. We brainstormed a bit the day I helped her bring the stove home, tossing ideas about what would need to be done. The old stove had cabinetry that needed to be cut all the way down to meet the floor, and the opening on the counter top that the stove slides into also needed to be opened up bigger.

It didn't surprise me one bit on Monday when I got home from work and saw her email. She had already pulled the old one out, enlarged the counter top opening to fit it, and was sending me pictures of the electrical connectors that we needed to buy to complete the install. Nope, very thorough. I had no doubt as to what to get when I went over to Lowe's before heading up to her house. When I got there and found out how much she had done and how well she had done it, I was very impressed. I jumped in at that point, but the brainstorming between us didn't stop. We had to try a few ideas and methods before I was finally able to get the lower part trimmed down to the floor. After the electrical changover, we plugged the stove in and attempted to slide it in a couple times, but found that there was one board still interfering along the back. At that point, however, we were finished for the day. She opted instead to just leave it where it was until the following day when she would trim the offending board out of the way. We spent the rest of the time playing with the stove and marveling at how cool it was.

During the time I was there she showed me her bandaged finger, noting that she had cut herself during her work, and didn't notice it until she had blood spots all over her pants. It wasn't long after that I started seeing blood while I was working too, and like her didn't notice I had wounded myself. While I was working, we talked about the blood on the pants and how to get it out. Because I had hydrogen peroxide and she didn't, she sent me home with them when I left. As I was leaving she noted, "We worked pretty well together on that didn't we?" Because we are both very opinionated and have our own way of doing things, it's easy to be offended at suggestions from the other, and we are both trying to be aware of that fact.

She had Keith put a new radiator hose on her car yesterday as well. She could have done it of course, but she wanted him to have something to do. Because she had been using my car while hers was out of commission she had to come down here yesterday to take me to get it. After I fed her and we got all set to go, she picked up the newly blood-free pants and made the comment I mentioned.

Ah yes, the comment--You thought I forgot about that didn't you?

I don't remember it verbatim, but I'll pretend to quote it: "We're quite a capable pair aren't we? I can install stoves and you can get the blood out of my clothes." We both thought it was pretty good. She called us both "multi-capable" people.

We're also apparently both bleeders.

Satisfaction

Isn't it funny? Just a couple blogs ago I was pissing and moaning about dissatisfaction, but I feel strangely the other way around right now.

Let me start with my truck.
Since I got my windshield in, I walk by it and note how nice the glass and the seal look, and I'm glad that the job is finally finished. Satisfaction.
Since the first time I drove it I noticed it had an electrical glitch that caused the front turn signals and parking lights to function erratically. Last night I tracked it down and replaced a bad socket. I didn't just use crimp connectors (good in a pinch, but I don't trust em) did it right: I soldered the wires and used heat-shrink tubing to cover the joints. I also cleaned out the side marker lights (they were green with growth) and put new bulbs in them. The result? Satisfaction.

Now lets switch to Suzie's house.
Last night I had just finished my truck wiring fix when she called, telling me that pizza was in the oven. When I got there, I took off my shoes and put on my slippers that live right there by the front door. Satisfaction.
When I finished with dinner, Suz was helping her daughter with filling out some forms on the computer so I sat down in the recliner with my beer to watch classic male entertainment (The Simpsons & Family Guy) with her two youngest sons. Instantly, her kittycat (Cookie is her name) walked across the couch and curled up on my lap. Satisfaction.

Last night before bed I felt my tongue starting to swell up. Those of you that know me well know that it happens sometimes, and I'm at a loss to understand why it happens. One time it even affected my breathing, and let me tell you: That was scary. Anyway, usually when it happens it's during a time of day that it can become extremely embarrassing, like at work. This time it didn't. I woke several times during the night, testing it by moving it around in my mouth. When I got up this morning it was almost completely back to normal. Satisfaction.

Okay, my cable internet died once this morning, but I guess you can't have everything, right?

Observations of Work and California

I doubt if I even got 3 hours of sleep the night before my first day back at work, and that certainly didn't help any. Had I not had two weeks off I would have called it a horribly rotten day. The fact is, my attitude was kind of in a forgiving mood or something because I never got upset. Things were so messed up that I floundered around for a good hour or so in sort of an "evaluation" mode before I decided I didn't even know where to start. As the day wore on I found my groove and started in. By the time the day ended I had fixed a lot of problems, some of them potentially major. The good part was when Bernie handed me two paychecks.

Suzie and I chatted briefly before I went to bed last night, and she reminded me (or scolded me?) that I hadn't mentioned any of her family members that I had just met in California during the course of my blogging. She's right--Guilty as charged. The fact is, I never really thought much about it--I just assumed she would blog our interactions and stuff.

The first person I met when we showed up at her uncle's place was her sister, Kathy. "They're here! They're here!" I heard her squeal from behind the backyard fence as we got out of the car. Although they looked a lot alike in childhood pictures, she and Suz really didn't resemble each other much at all to me. Kathy is a tiny little thing with a Debra Winger sort of voice--It breaks a bit when she talks.

When I met her mom, I met a lady older than I thought I was meeting. I guess it's because I spent so much time helping Suzie scan old pictures this summer, many of which included her mom. I guess if I would have done the math in my mind I would have expected her mom to be the age she actually is. Does that make sense? I rarely have preconceptions expectations about how someone might be before I meet them, so I guess I never thought about it. The fact is, she is a super lady. I doubt if I have ever met such an even-tempered person in my life. During the course of events taking place in the house during the time I was there, a lot of frustration, anxiety, raising of voices, etc. took place. I never heard her mom raise her voice, get mad, or lose her cool. I very solid lady! As time went on during the week I stayed there, she seemed to enjoy my company more and more. She tended to ramble a lot, and apparently I was a good sounding board. Sometimes she talked incessantly for hours on end. I think she liked the company and really enjoyed having us there. I enjoyed it too. I had my doubts about staying on the couch in a strange house for a week, but it was almost like being home. We made jokes about being slobby, smelling up the bathroom, and all the other stuff that family members do. It was like I was family.

One thing that struck me as funny was one day while all three of them were in the same part of the house and one of them said something and all three of them laughed. They all had the same laugh! I loved it. It reminded me a little of the laugh that Betty Rubble and Wilma Flintstone would do on their cartoon. Very funny. That fact solidified them as related in my mind--No question. Ditto for another thing they all did the exact same: "Whatever." They all 3 have the same way of saying "whatever" that basically sounds the same. It's a combination of, "I'm finished talking and I've said all I'm going to say", and "You're going to do whatever you want anyway, so what the hell are you asking me for?"

I met Kathy's husband Pearce too, but really never got to know him all that well. We stayed at their house twice--Once the first day we were there, and once later in the week. The second time we stayed there I never even saw him. He seemed like a good guy and very hard working. The two of us spent a pretty hot day cutting up a bunch of branches in the front yard and had a good time. He's pretty businesslike and "gets with the program." Their son, Russell was one of the quietest kids I've ever seen, but when you think about it, how many kids actually like to talk to adults, let alone strangers? I don't know how old he is--Maybe 14? 15? He seemed to be a pretty bright kid though.

I think the weirdest thing there was when me, Suzie, Kathy and Pearce, all met Suzie and Kathy's real dad at a restaurant. It was arranged--Not accidental. I saw little resemblance between the girls and him. He was interesting in a strange sort of way. He was kind of quiet, with a dry sense of humor, and spoke very carefully. I think he was more nervous than anyone. The girls loved to pick his brain.

It was a very interesting doorway into the family that is Suzie. Although it's a typical American family nowadays, with multiple spouses and histories, I didn't see anything at all that rattled me. Not that I was expecting... Maybe a "whew" is in order?

The Bob Effect

"That should help him."
I was walking by the packaging area I used to work in and Bruce was there, stacking and organizing some boxes neatly with their appropriate paperwork underneath--Boxes that were destined for Boeing.
"Who? What?" I asked, stopping.
"Bob. This should help him get it right." he said, motioning to his pile of boxes.
I laughed and thought about it for a moment. We were always commenting on things Bob had done wrong or strangely on any given day. Then I had an epiphany.
"Yeah, anything you can do to minimize the Bob Effect is surely a good thing," I said, suddenly proud of the sound of the new term I had just created. I could tell Bruce liked it too. It sounded like something sinister--Something from a sci-fi movie.
"The Bob Effect." he repeated, tasting the words as they rolled off his tongue.

Bob is about my age and he's working the same packaging area I used to work when I was first hired on, and is also doing most of the driving just as I did. I don't think he used to be quite as scatterbrained as he is now, but he's had some interesting screwups. We used to call them "Bob-ism's" and still do occasionally. When we would hear about something he did or didn't do, we'd just shake our head and mutter.

One time when he was still relatively new he was up north somewhere doing a delivery or pickup of some kind. Word had gotten around that the company was going to be looking for a "new" van to replace the aging relic that we had to deal with. Bob actually stopped at a dealership in Kirkland and talked with a salesman! He came back with literature and everything and told Bruce about it. Bruce, of course, was flabberghasted. If Bernie LaCroix would have ever found out that he did that on company time he would have been gone I'm sure. That was the first real slip. A Pink Floyd album comes to mind: A Momentary Lapse of Reason. Little did we know all the things the future would bring.

Bob is a classic. One time he was gone a couple hours. The time went by with Bruce wandering by every now and then.
"Bob come back yet?" he asked.
"Nope, nothing yet." I said, and we both shook our heads.
When he finally showed up, Bruce asked him where he had been.
"I went to PM Testing." he said, in a matter-of-fact way. PM Testing is one of the companies that does finish work like painting and such for us. They are located in Fife, which is about a half hour each way if there is no traffic (there is always traffic).
"Who told you to go to PM Testing?" Bruce asked in disbelief.
I don't remember his exact response. Basically, nobody told him to go. He just went. On his own.

Hellooo... Earth to Bob... Do you read?

Bob would constantly deliver the wrong thing to the wrong place and have to go back and correct things. I'm sure he cost the company money on more than one occasion--Making a delivery late for whatever reason. He routinely takes twice as long as I do (or most anyone ever has) to make deliveries and pickups.

We have determined that he must be working for free.

The most common instance of the Bob Effect is when he departs when Bruce wasn't ready for him to leave yet.
"Where's Bob?" Bruce would ask, coming out of the office.
"He just left."
"Bob! Jeezus... I haven't even given him everything yet." he'd say with exasperation. We'd both exchange a look of helplessness and shake our heads.

Another often repeated scenario was when he left and didn't take the product with him. I told Bruce if he didn't actually have sailboat fuel for brains I'd think he planned it that way so he could make two trips to kill more time. But we determined that he really had no clue.

Other instances of the Bob Effect come in-house. When he packages something and writes on the box, we can no longer assume that what's written is inside the box. If he writes the weight on a box and gives it to me to send UPS, I re-weigh it when he's not looking.

We constantly make jokes about him, but you know what? We like him. He's our own Jester. He's the one thing we need to keep our mundane day interesting.
"Where's Bob?" Bruce will ask.
"Probably at Ernie's Truck Stop," I'd say, "perusing the greasy goodness behind the glass in their deli case."

The Bob Effect. You'd better hope it doesn't spread.

Working Without Suz

When I was at work I would only usually see fleeting glimpses of Suzie, but I sure enjoyed them. Occasionally she would come out to the shop and we would get a chance to talk for a minute. Obviously, those times were the best.

Yesterday was the first day at work with no Suzie. She was home in her robe enjoying her first day of freedom from the struggles and mind games of LaCroix Industries. It was weird. Although I knew she wasn't there, I still found myself looking for her. I noticed throughout the day that I was somewhat "off my game" because of it. It was obvious that I missed seeing her. Try as I might I couldn't shake it. All day long it was there--Sometimes worse than others. When I would slump down into my chair at break time for a little "shut eye" time, every time the door to the office opened next to me I found myself still listening for someone walking behind me as she would occasionally do when she needed to use the paper cutter that is kept in my work area. Then it would hit me. "Stop thinking about it," I would tell myself.

It's hard to do.

Because she was working there when I hired on, she has worked there the entire time that I have. To me, it was like she was practically part of the company. Back when I was still married and I had not yet been severely impaled with cupid's arrow I still looked forward to the times I could interact with her for whatever reason. I just always liked the little exchanges we would have.

Sure, I know I can see her every day regardless of whether I see her at work or not, but it's just so different now. I was so struck by her absence yesterday that I couldn't wait to run up to her house after I got off work.

I hope I get over this aching at work soon, but you know what? I hope I never stop missing her when she's not around me.

Happy Friday the 13th

It looks to be a pretty good day at this point. It started off well mainly because I didn't have to wake with my alarm clock this morning. I have the day off, Suzie has the day off, and we're about to embark on a weekender on the Harley. Maybe I should go buy a few lotto tickets to test the superstition!

Taking a trip on a motorcycle is not easy from a luggage standpoint. With a car trip you have almost unlimited space, and with air travel you're allowed an awful lot of space as well. With a motorcycle you're not so well off. Even when traveling alone on a motorcycle it's tough to cram all your stuff on board. Add a passenger and you add twice as much need for space. I spent a while out in the garage last night trying to figure things out and had a little success, but won't really know until Suzie gets here and we start cramming. When you break it down into categories you see where the problems can arise. Tools & supplies for the Harley, footwear, clothing, toiletries, laptop computer (hey, it's the 21st century!) and cameras--Those are the main things. The saddlebags that stay on the Harley don't hold as much as you'd think they would. I added a tool bag onto the back to put stuff in, and that will also help support the bottom of the luggage bag we'll be strapping on and help hold it up off the license plate and tail light. What I should have done (and meant to ages ago) was build a small, detachable rack to go on the back. I'll still keep that on the "to do" list. I also gave it an oil change and washed it. I didn't wash it to make it look nice, but to "de-bug" the windshield from our last outing.

All things considered, I thought that this cartoon was appropriate:


I had a little thing happen to me on the way to work yesterday morning that I found a little odd. I had this desire for a Breakfast Jack from Jack in the Box, so I cruised by there and was pleasantly surprised to find only one car in the drive-up line. I placed my order, and drove forward after hearing the, "Thank you, $1.08 at the window." When he handed me the bag and I paid him with a dollar and a dime, he asked, "Do you want the pennies?"

Say what?

Although at the time I answered no (they just end up on the floor somewhere anyway), the more I thought about it on the way to work, the more it disturbed me. Have we gotten to the point that we so thrive on convenience that accepting our deserved change is something we may not even want to deal with? Imagine it from the restaurant's perspective--That could translate into millions of dollars of free revenue! If all the employees at all the restaurants all over the world asked every customer that and even 1 out of 5 declined their change, that's still huge. The funny thing is, when I got to work and opened the bag, I had my Breakfast Jack in there, but in addition found a sandwich called an Extreme Sausage. I tried it, but didn't really care for it, but at the same time couldn't help but think, so much for their profit from my 2 cents.

This morning I looked out my little window in the entry that points toward the street and saw a shopping cart sitting out there at the edge of the road in front of my car. I chuckled to myself. The Fred Meyer store that's just across the street has signs posted all over warning shoppers that the carts have devices on them that will render the wheels unable to turn if they leave the perimeter of their property. Come on... It doesn't take a genius to see that there is no device anywhere on those carts. They're the same old crappy wheels they've always had. Apparently, they're playing the odds like Jack in the Box by putting signs up:

If it works on even 1 out of 5...

It's Eating Me...

Sometimes I don't see myself blogging any more. I've done it before. I know I won't do what I did last time and ever delete my blog (I still can't believe I did that), but I can seriously see times when I won't write anything in it for a while. It's weird though--I start feeling guilty about it.

The way my mind works is the whole problem. Did you ever see someone in a movie or in a TV show that starts to talk, and little by little their words get closer together and they start talking faster and faster and their voice gets higher and higher and pretty soonthey'retalkinglikethisandpracticallyscreamingpanicstricken? That's kind of how it works. I think about things, and my mind gets too analytical and critical and one thing leads to another and pretty soon I'm feeling overwhelmed or frazzled or something. Most of the time I can stop it, but sometimes it drags me down into a funk. It's like my mind punishes me because it thinks I'm doing everything all wrong.

My blogging has reached the point it has been at times before--The point where it becomes tedious. I think what it is, is the fact that more often than not it's just a boring diary. My favorite blogging is during times when I become introspective (like this post) or times when I do a poem or other times when something almost literary springs forth from my keyboard. Will I stop it? No. I will always feel the need to jot something exciting or dreary down in words. I think I just need to be more inspired or something. Basically, I'm saying if you don't see anything written here for a few days every now and then, it's one of those times.

Back to my wandering mind--My feelings of frustration and the like. I started thinking about it, and everything in my life seems to be going very well--The best it's been in a long time as a matter of fact. I'm totally in love and feeling great about that, but there's something there in my mind--Creating thoughts of uneasiness and eating at me.

I think I've figured out what it is this time: LaCroix Industries.

I like my "job" as much as I've always liked it, but suddenly (maybe not suddenly, but I just realized it) I don't like my employer any more. There are too many things going wrong there, and too many people playing the "blame game" on each other. I used to think it was just a sort of tension that suddenly existed between the owners and us (me and Suzie) since they found out that we were seeing each other, but it's much more than that. There are times when I wouldn't feel at all surprised if someone went postal there out of frustration and our little company ended up on the news. The owners want the company to grow and adamantly state that it will do so, but yet are doing nothing at all to help it grow except accepting more work that we can't handle. We've exceeded our capacity, we employ too many idiots, and we're using pencils and scratch paper in a computerized world.

I also get so mad at how Suz is being treated in the office. She has worked there like 11 years or so, and has gotten 3 raises during that whole time. I got 3 raises my first year. She does a huge amount of work that encompasses many areas of expertise and what does she get for it? Nothing. The workload of late has put office staffers on overtime just to try to keep up, and what happens? Accusations, finger-pointing, blame--Nothing good is happening in there. I'm getting fed up at watching it unfold before me.

I want us both OUT.

It's All About Numbers

Everything we do is all about numbers isn't it? We measure everything we do in life by numbers. It's how we know something is better or worse than something else. Numbers. Just try to explain something about anything without numbers coming into play somewhere in the explanation.

I had a few insignificant number milestones over the last week I may as well relate.

• I broke my previous high score of 637 (see the post on October 19th 2007) on my bathroom Yahtzee game. The new score is 641. See? Sometimes sitting in the bathroom for a while can be beneficial.
• I bought a new cell phone a while back, but I still carry the old one to work with me every day. Why? To play Tetris on. New phones don't have games preloaded on them like that one did. Anyway, the current Tetris game I'm playing is at over a million and a half.
• My 1995 Plymouth Neon was bought new in June of 1994. Just this last weekend it rolled over 100,000 miles. I was kinda pissed that I missed it to tell you the truth. I was actually going to pull over and take a picture of it (how anal can you get). Pretty low miles for a car of that age isn't it?
  

How much we make, how fast we go, how many we have, how long it is (oh wait--Size doesn't matter), how far something is--There is no end to how many things that are based on numbers. See? There's another one. Heck, just pick one topic: How much gas costs, how many gallons your car holds, how many miles can you go on it, what octane is it, how long can you drive on one tank... Yada, yada, yada.

Okay, that's enough. I really just wanted to brag about my high scores and pat my car on the back. Oh yeah--I'm also another year older today. Can I stop now? I like it right where I'm at.

A Milestone

It occurred to me yesterday at work that I passed a milestone Monday evening without realizing it. The act I performed was not itself a significant thing, but rather the fact that I have never done it. You'd think that by this time in my life I had done most things, right? I will be 52 soon and I sat at work and wondered how I had managed to slide through life without ever being exposed to the opportunity.

Monday, for the first time in my life, I drove a riding lawnmower.

Yes, my life is somehow more complete now. A thing I can add to my long list of accomplishments on this earth. I have driven practically everything there is to drive that is powered by an engine, and even things without. Trucks and cars of all sizes, backhoe, grader, ambulance, cop car, school bus, motorcycles of all shapes and sizes... The list goes on and on.

Thanks Suzie, for letting me mow your lawn and thereby allowing me the pleasure of putting another "notch" in my lifelong resume' of accomplishments. I'm sure it won't be the last time.

Powder Power

My mind works strangely--At least to me it does. For all I know, everybodys mind works strangely. Mine tends to be somewhat fragmented. Did you ever hear about the book, "If you give a moose a muffin"? That's kind of how my mind works. It skips around.

Take yesterday morning for example. I was on my way to work and was a little miffed when I found pretty heavy ice on the windshield that I had to scrape. When I was nearing work and drove by a local 7-Eleven, I remembered I wanted to stop for gum. The problem was because I scraped the ice before leaving home I no longer had time to make a gum stop. While thinking about gum, my mind went rummaging in my desk drawer at work where I keep the gum, then left actually left the desk drawer and wandered to my boots sitting under the table waiting for me. That's when I remembered that my boots were starting to squeak yesterday before I left work. Hey wait a minute, I used to have a thing (this is what we call a container when we don't know what else to call it) of Dr. Scholl's foot powder in my tool box there, didn't I?

When I got to work and sat down to put my boots on I remembered, "Oh yeah... Foot powder." I opened up my tool box and looked around and there it was. It hadn't been used in a while and it was pretty hard to spin the top to line the "shake holes" up so I could pour it. My work boots have insoles in them and they are usually what squeaks so I took them both out and sprinkled a decent amount of powder in the boots before putting them back in. I'm the kind of person that believes in doing anything I can to increase personal comfort if I can (like my using hand cream at work, having my own easy chair for lunch, etc.) so naturally I'm going to put powder in the boots before putting my feet in them too right? Of course. I didn't skimp either. I used lots of it.

Ahhh...

It's funny how something like that can make you smile. I spent the day being constantly reminded about how great my feet felt every time I walked somewhere. Every time I bolted out of my chair back onto my feet I noticed the difference. It truly put my into a good mood. I put a lot of miles on walking all around that place, and even though I wear Red Wing boots (far and away the most comfortable boots I have ever owned in my life) it can still take its toll on feet.

I don't know if I owe my revelation of foot powder ownership to scraping ice or missing gum or what, but I know I'm going to leave it out as a reminder and use it again. And again.

Just Stuff...

Today's post is filled with little things--Mostly nothings to dominate, with a smattering of somethings throughout.

Sarah and her partner won their doubles match in tennis yesterday in two sets. I hate it when they have to do best 2 out of 3 when the match is close. That adds another half hour at least, and by the time the end of the second set rolls around I'm always ready to get outta there as it is.

For some reason I haven't had the desire to ride the Harley lately. I can't really explain it, but it's happened before. I guess what it boils down to is that it's always there in my garage and therefore not "special" and screaming to be ridden. People that don't own one can't quite get a grasp on that. I just keep hearing, "How come you didn't ride your bike to work today?"

I think I'll probably start riding it to Sarah's "away" tennis matches. That way I don't have to make excuses about why I don't want to car pool with Teresa so she can save gas. Let her spend money on gas. I think I'm paying her enough for her to be able to do that.

Sarah's mom's birthday is in two days (Friday) and I will bet money that she hasn't bought her anything, or even thought about it in the least. I just sent her an email challenging her to get off her ass, and told her that I will not be able to take her shopping this year, and that she better get out there and do something for her mom for a change. She deserves better than she gets from her only daughter. You know what occurred to me though? That song by Harry Chapin, The Cat's in the Cradle. (You can click HERE if you want to read the lyrics. You'll be subjected to some crappy MIDI music while you're there but you can turn it down.) Basically, it's a classic case of "what ye shall sow, so shall ye reap". Teresa doesn't forget birthdays, but she makes it plain that she'd rather not buy anyone anything. She has a million excuses, and the most popular one is, "They didn't even acknowledge your birthday last year did they?" It all boils down to the same thing. Not buying presents is her M.O. and Sarah is going to follow her exactly, like it or not. This year I will not be taking part in her birthday so it's all up to Sarah, Wade (her brother) and her dad (who is in Arizona). Wade will only come down if it's totally convenient for Wade. By convenient I mean he will come down if he's on his way to a Sonics game in Seattle, or wants her to babysit his dog. He only shops online so he don't have to be inconvenienced. They're quite a pair they are...

I hope the weather holds out long enough to fire up the grill tonight. Suzie and I are having a little nicely charred red meat for dinner!

At Least it's Friday

Sometimes I want to be such a selfish bastard. Like now for instance. I want to say to Sue, "Screw your vacation, you get back here right NOW!"

Yeah right.

It's truly a case of jealousy and longing both rolled into one. I am so jealous of where she's at and what she's experiencing. I'm jealous of the weather, jealous of the lonely clothing-optional beaches, jealous of the smells, the sounds, the sights. Hawaii is truly an experience of the senses, and she's reveling in it. Sure, I could have probably gone along too, but this was Suzie's trip. It was her vacation. The first time I think, ever, that she was able to go solo on a vacation that she so richly deserves. For someone that's a devoted mother and head-of-household, to be able to do this is truly a sign of success. She has done a fantastic job of raising a family from what I've seen. She has earned the right to spend some time doing what she wants to do--To eat what she wants, go where she wants, or even just lie on the beach for hours without hearing someone grumble about being hungry or bored or any of a multitude of things a mother is used to hearing.

The longing? She's been on my mind all week long. I want so badly to see her, talk to her, hold her, love her. I guess I should thank my lucky stars that we live in this day and age, because even though we're so far apart there are still cell phones, emails, and pictures that can be transmitted instantly anywhere in the world. A good example could be when she called me while sitting on a beach the other day and held her phone out from her, allowing me to hear the surf pounding the beach. It was so weird--To be sitting here under the gray, rainy Washington skies while listening to the warm tropical waves of Kauai in real-time. Thank you technology, but sometimes you don't make things easier to take mentally! I guess I'm lucky because at least I get to see her before anyone else does when she arrives Monday morning. Whoops, I guess that was another selfish moment...

I finished off my work week today by paying a visit to my little Korean barber lady for a haircut after work. After I got back here and had a beer and checked my email, I phoned in an order for a Papa Murphy's Cowboy pizza. Yes, it's kind of a little way of signaling the end of my work week--Much like when I buy a special beer on some Fridays (but not this time).

You know, I'd really like to have Suzie here to share it with...

Hump Day!

I don't normally call Wednesday Hump Day. I'm not usually a "day counter" like so many other people are that are anxious for the weekend to show up. In my case however, I am anxious. I want my woman back. Daily emails and the occasional text messages and phone calls are great, but sometimes things like that just make it harder (excuse the pun). The pace of things are work aren't making it any easier either--Things are very slow there.

I had another one of those strange things happen to me in the world of software yesterday. I must be getting older. I think I've already discussed this in the past--The irony of the fact that the only software purchase I've made in probably at least 15 years is the one that lets me pirate software via newsgroups. Well, there may soon be an addition to that lonely purchase. I've gotten to the point where I'm tired of not being able to stay with a particular antivirus package that works for me. I can get by with them for free for a while, but they always find out that certain serial numbers are bad and blacklist them. That means no more updates. What frustrates me the most about security software (that's what they're calling them all these days) is the fact that they have to always be running in the background. What that usually means is that they end up taking over your system instead of the hackers they're supposedly protecting you against. The only one I've ever used that doesn't slow your system to a crawl or seriously hamper boot or shutdown speeds is Trend Micro. Theirs used to be called PC-Cillin but now is called Trend Micro Internet Security. I had it on here (pirated of course) for about a week and loved it, but then it stopped updating (they always catch on eventually--Sometimes sooner than others). After browsing the web, I found that I can get that one at a good price, so I will eventually end up buying it (the crowd gasps in amazement) sometime soon. In the meantime I went to their site and downloaded and installed it. It's a full version that will work for one month, and by then I'll have my own.

It's yet another milestone in my life I guess. It's kind of like when a guy gets to an age when he suddenly decides he's finished working on his own car and starts paying to have it done instead. It kind of makes me picture a scene in a Star Wars movie when Alec Guinness says, "I sense a great disturbance in The Force."

Friday Hair

I don't have much desire to write today, but I am wondering about something that occurred to me a while ago:

What makes hair totally "wing out" on some mornings when you get up and some mornings not? Granted, hair is always messed up when you awake in the morning, but I'm talking about more than that. I'm talking about goat horns sticking out the side of your head.

The side.

You would think that if hair was going to stand up on one side of your head it would all stand up on that side wouldn't you? Instead, I got two little areas about 1" each that decided to secede from the general hair populace.

I looked in the mirror and sighed. I tried to flatten them down (I don't know why--In case someone "dropped in" for a visit while I was making my lunch at 4am I guess) but to no avail. They just laughed at me and told me not to worry about them, knowing that I would drown them in the shower and force them to behave anyway.

I'm glad it's Friday.

The Rise and Fall... And Rise Again?

I used to totally love photography, I just sort of stopped doing it. I don't know why. I don't think I "burned out" on it, but it definitely fell by the wayside.

What if I was just a little ahead of my time?

I was out with Suzie last night, helping her with a photography lesson for her Wednesday night class. The subject was shots with movement. By the time she gets off work on weekdays the daylight is somewhat limited, so if the assignment wasn't completed over the weekend, that pretty much limits her to night shots. I suggested a few various items before hitting on the one that we finally acted on. We grabbed my tripod and zoomed over to Auburn Station to see if she could get some interesting shots of the Sounder Train that was due to arrive in 15 minutes.

It was cold, but I was immediately drawn into the fun of seeing what kind of effects she could get by slowing the shutter speed way down to a point where everything that moved had a blur to it. I was having a great time visualizing the outcome in my minds eye and scouting out new angles and shots while she was busy setting up and taking them behind me. The bridge that spanned the train tracks afforded a great vantage point to catch car and bus traffic and a good overhead/side view of the train as it came and went.

What we didn't really expect were the shots related to the train stopping there: The humans streaming across the bridge we were using, and their vehicles streaming in a seemingly endless chain of lights as they wound their way out of the parking garage. Both made for some great shots!

I felt myself sharing the excitement that she had--The same feeling I used to get when I was on the hunt for shots with my old Nikon FM film camera. Some days when I was bored all I had to do was pick up my camera and head out the door. It usually provided a sort of catalyst for an interesting day of wandering. Back in the day of a 35mm SLR cameras, the creative tools were not apparent. The camera afforded a person with unlimited light settings and unlimited speed settings, but that was about it unless you had a bulk film cartridge and a motor drive ($$$). The use of filters was another option, but one that I usually didn't bother much with. In other words, it was mostly up to the photographer as to how to make a shot happen. I taught myself everything I ever learned about photography--Some by trial and error and experimentation, and some by reading books and magazines (no internet back then!).

Today things are different.

The camera Suzie has is nothing short of amazing when compared with those of yesteryear. There is basically nothing that it won't do. But the real exciting difference is digital versus film. In the old days I spent a LOT of money having my pictures and slides developed. There is a general rule of thumb that existed in the film camera days: If you got one really great shot out of a roll of film you were lucky. Sure, you might get a whole roll of shots with no flaws in them, but that "perfect" shot was the elusive thing. So it boils down to logistics really. The cost of the film, loading the film, storing the film, the cost of developing the film--All are non-issues now. It is truly a photographer's world in today's day and age.

Given my fickle nature, I can't help but wonder: If I jumped back in would I stick with it? Does that even matter? After all, when you're on this side of 50 years old the clock of life is running pretty quickly so there's not much time to wonder. Given my love of computers and the obvious link between them and digital photography, it's certainly an interesting notion.

Happy New Year

For some reason, I spent a couple minutes staring at the title to this blog entry. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if it should have an exclamation point after it or not.

Am I excited about it being a new year? Not really. To me, this day is naught more than a free day off. It really doesn't mean anything to me. I've never been one to reflect on what went right and what went wrong during the previous year. Sure, there are always going to be ups and downs--That's the way life is. Some will be minor and quickly forgotten (unless you're a blogger and can read about it), and others will be major, life-altering experiences.

I've never made resolutions that I know of. I think that when someone makes a New Year's resolution they are already halfway to dooming it to failure. Why? Look at it this way: When someone quits smoking, they have a much better chance of quitting when they do it the instant the urge or spark or idea hits them. If they say, "I'm going to quit just as soon as I finish this pack." or "I'm going to quit just as soon as I finish this carton--They're so expensive you know." or even worse, using a target date; "I'm going to quit smoking next week." When people make resolutions on New Year's, they are already dooming them to a high failure rate simply because they aren't making the resolutions for themselves--They are making them for the holiday.

Hmm, what did I accomplish last year... First of all, I didn't set any goals, so did I really "accomplish" anything? How would I know if I had? I live my life by the seat-of-my-pants method and rarely make goals. That's probably why I have accomplished so little in life. I like to think I enjoy life, but do I really? I know with no goals I am free to take any fork in the road of life that looks interesting. Pretty selfish way to live really, but it's who I am.

Will I accomplish anything in the upcoming year? I don't know. There are many things I have been putting on my mental "to-do" list, but I'm such a procrastinator will I do them?

So back to the title of this post. If I put the exclamation point on it, I would be exuberant about the New Year. If I put a period on it I would be doing a "ho hum" about it. Punctuation can mean a world of difference. Instead I decided that I would leave the punctuation empty, and in honor of that I created the appropriate smiley face.

I'll just take the year as it comes like I always do.

Another Age Thing?

I hate to think I may have to give up chili, but something is different now. I don't know exactly how long it's been this way, but noticed something about myself (my body specifically) last night after I chowed down on chili for dinner.

I know most people's first thought goes right to gas and flatulence, but that's not it. No, actually I don't have a problem with that at all. Okay... Everyone around me might, but I don't. No, that's not it at all.

I eat plain ol' Nalley's Chili con Carne with beans. I eat the regular "hot" variety (not shown on their website), not the jalapeno hot variety (that's just painful). I usually add just a tad bit of additional red pepper flakes in it while it's cooking, but not always. Sometimes I add some chopped onions in it, but not always. Sometimes I add some diced tomatoes to it, but again... Not always. Another thing I'll do occasionally is add some shredded cheese like I did last night. This time it happened to be Cojack cheese, but that's really not important.

What happened? Well, shortly after eating it, I was practically asleep. I say practically, because I was really moving slow and drowsy. It was all I could do to stay awake. Not long after that I got an upset stomach. It didn't get real bad, but neither did it go away on its own. I ended up using Alka Seltzer to squash that (which it did fine). It occurred to me when I was getting my Alka Seltzer that I only had one pack left in the box. Then I thought about it and it occurred to me that I had probably used most of the previous ones in the package on the post episodes of The Chili Blues as well.

Thinking hard about it, I could say with almost absolute certainty that the same thing has happened probably the last half a dozen times after I had eaten chili. Each time may have had a different thing added to it or not, I don't know--I usually don't do it exactly the same way every time. The only thing that I always do the same is that I eat the crackers and chili bite for bite. That translates to at least a complete package (sleeve) of crackers by the time the chili is finished.

There is something here that isn't agreeing with me any more I guess, but I didn't really see it. Either I'm eating too much total, too many crackers, or shouldn't be eating one or the other any more at all. Now that I think of it, I eat that many crackers when I eat soup too. I also get very tired after that, but I don't get an upset stomach.

I told Elaine about it at work today, and she said maybe it was too spicy, but I was quick to point out that my chili really isn't that spicy. I eat lots of things much more spicy than that with no odd effects. Then she suggested something odd: Adding a little vinegar to it while cooking. She said just a little bit, like a cap full. Hell, I dunno... I'll give it a shot next time. Who knows.

I just don't want to hear that it's an age-related thing again. Something like my body has changed and I can no longer eat a particular food I've eaten all my life? I wouldn't be surprised if that doesn't happen to me at some point in my life, but I sure hope it's not something that I love. Maybe it's just a metabolism thing and I just need to tone it down somewhat. Hell, maybe it's only the crackers. Oh man, but I love saltine crackers too!

One thing is for sure: I've lasted most of my 51 years with a "cast-iron stomach" and have enjoyed the hell out of it. I could eat anything and eat lots of it too. I guess it's time to start keeping a logbook or something so I can figure it out.

Dammit.

OMG!

I'm turning into my dad! It seems to be apparent, and I don't like it one bit. Although there are many aspects to being my dad, I'm only talking about one particular trait that he possesses:

Fixing things that aren't broken.

Whenever he "fixes" things around the house or on a vehicle, he causes more problems than he started with. There are many reasons for it I suppose, and among them:

• Not troubleshooting things correctly to begin with (me)
• Not doing investigation before jumping in with both feet (me)
• Lack of patience (me)

I suppose that I could come up with all sorts of things like that given enough time, but I don't have the patience for it. It suffices to say I've recently caused an awful lot of extra work/expense over things that never should have been "repaired" to begin with.

Let me see if I can come up with a few things to illustrate my point...

• This last summer I totally gutted my car to fix what I thought was a leaky heater core. Was it leaking? I thought so, but maybe it wasn't. Did it fix the water leak? Fuck no it didn't, and I'm still fucking around with it. And that's after I spent $60 on a new heater core too. As of this very moment, I have a wet floor, the blower motor is out, and the whole top of the dash is still off of it. Add to that the fact that I've had two people out to work to "fix" what I thought must be a leaky windshield. Maybe it isn't? Who the fuck knows--Certainly not me because I'm "my dad" now.
• I have not been able to figure out why my truck only starts some of the time. Instead of really troubleshooting it methodically, I've just been doing the "remove and replace" method. Is it fixed yet? Fuck no... I'm "my dad" so I obviously can't fix it. So far I have bought a new distributor cap, rotor, ignition module (it goes under the distributor cap), spark plugs, and ignition switch. When I removed the ignition switch, I couldn't get the new one back on. I stupidly (underline that) couldn't get the new one on, and little by little ended up delving deeper and deeper into it. Right now the whole steering column is out of the truck and on the bench in my garage, half torn apart. Will I get it back together? Who the fuck knows. All I know is, I bought a new ignition switch (fortunately fairly cheap), and a specialty tool for steering wheel disassembly that I didn't need. Why didn't I need it? Simple--I'm my dad and I tried to put the fucking switch in wrong. Instead of really investigating the problem, I assumed that a linkage had slipped when I took it apart, causing it to not align correctly to allow for reassembly. Wrong. There are a lot of parts in a GM tilt-wheel steering column. Key switch, turn signal switch, dimmer, ball bearings (I found 12 out of 14), tilt wheel linkages... What a mess. And all I had to do was open my fucking eyes...
• The famed Harley shocks fiasco. I spent over $200 on shocks that have caused me nothing but trouble. Did they actually help the ride? Fuck no. What should I have done? Put some new tires on it. Instead of starting with the right things first, I lit the bottom of the fucking candle. Why? Duh... Obviously I'm "my dad."
• Yesterday I went up to Federal Way to buy some more memory for my laptop. I took the old chips out and looked at them, noting their speed. I "assumed" that I should buy the same speed (pc2100 @266mhz for you geeks following this) to play it safe and make sure they would work, even though all the newer RAM is faster speed than that. I got home and plugged em in. Did they work? Fuck no. I could have easily taken my laptop with me and installed them on the spot, but nooooo.... I can't do anything right. Now I have to go back up there and get my $100 back (if I'm lucky). Just call me "my dad."
  

I could go on and on. It's plainly a case of me losing my ability to fix things, and because it has happened little by little, it's taken me a while to realize it. I'm not happy about this one bit. I can't see well, I can't hear well, my patience has been sliding for some time, and now this. I find it extremely frustrating. I don't make enough money for me to keep pissing it away "fixing" shit that was never broken to begin with.

Now I'm going to have to go into my Real Me page and change some shit. The fact that I "can fix almost anything" is now history, and who know what else I'll find...