It has all come to a screaching halt...

Over the past few months, Oklahoma State University has been moving toward a transition from one networking system to another while simultaneously moving toward a transition from one email system to another. Since the begining of the year, the timeline for these operations has become tighter. Within six and a half weeks, we will begin our migration and will complete it within sixteen weeks after that.

Let me put this migration into perspective. There are some thirty-eight thousand users that must be transferred from the old system to the new. This includes email and networking systems. I figure that, out of those 38,000 users, someone will have to physically visit about 10,000 computers to remove and install software and complete the transition for faculty and staff. The students will be easier since they are not as integrated into the network. Now, when you factor in network printing, integrating legacy systems (mainframe stuff), repurposing existing servers, installing new servers, support services training, end-user training and all the little bits that go with this... 16 weeks suddenly becomes a very short timeframe.

[side note: Those of you in corporate computing environments who are used to unilateral decisions about your computing environment need to understand someting - our computing environment consists of about a dozen different operating systems connecting to various services and devices using about two dozen different methods. In other words, every computer is different. We can't just roll out a new image, push it to all the desktops and go along our merry way... Such is academic computing.]

Because of the gargantuan task set before them, our third-level support personnel (the people who get paged when a server goes down and are responsible for ensuring that it comes back up) are entirely consumed with transitional testing and implementation.

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There's a story about a frog. It goes something like this...

If you drop a live frog into boiling water, he will immediately jump out.
If, however, you drop the frog into tepid water, then increase the temperature gradually, the frog will allow himself to be boiled alive.

In my professional career, I have, in the past, had the privilidge of realizing that the nice, warm water has become too hot and I am in danger of being boiled alive. This realization has come after new duties and responsibilities have been placed upon me over time and I begin to wonder why I can't seem to meet deadlines. The answer comes that the water is too hot and I have a tendency to jump out of that pot (job) and into a different one with a more agreeable temperature.

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Since the beginning of the new year, these are some of the additional duties that have been placed upon me:

1. Keep current with information. This is accomplished via no less than three SharePoint sites, each with half a dozen sections I am supposed to monitor; a general announcements site; email; and a trouble-ticket tracking system.

2. EOP phone rotation. When a server goes down or other connectivity is lost, someone calls the Emergency Operating Procedures (EOP) phone. I take my turn carrying this phone at least a couple of days each week. When we receive a call we are to a) notify the director of technology services, b) notify the manager of client services, c) post an announcement to the aforementioned announcements page, d) notify any affected branch campuses. But first, we have to ask all sorts of questions of the caller to figure out exactly what is happening.

3. File restoration. I now have the software necessary to recover files from our backup system installed on my office computer. I haven't yet been called upon to do it but even if I am I won't be able to because they haven't set up my account on the server yet.

4. Email service account creation. I used to be involved in this insomuch as I coordinated it... now I do it. I have to create the user ID and assign an exception that allows it to show up in another system. Once that completes, I create a record in the address book then actually create the file.

5. Help Desk overflow. If our Automated Call Director indicates there is a significant backlog of calls on hold, we are to log in and start taking calls. (not that we don't already have enough to do)

Some of these tasks are new. Some of these tasks have traditionally been handled at first level (help desk). Some of these tasks have traditionally been handled at third level.

Is it getting hot in here?

At around 9:30 a.m. this morning, I was preparing to create a couple of mail files and stopped. I simply dropped my tools and stopped working. It suddenly didn't seem worth it and I began to deeply and seriously consider whether or not I want to continue in the service of the IT division at OSU.

Here is why:
I received an email from my supervisor stating that all trouble tickets that would normally be routed to third-level support are now to be routed to the client services manager. From there, he will either ensure that the task is completed at third level or, more likely, that we, at second level, are granted rights to be able to handle it ourselves.

It seems that third level is so busy with tasks related to the transition that they haven't even been able to sort through their ticket que for an entire week.

Translation: I get to do even more work.

Now, it feels as though I've been dropped into a pot of boiling water. The only plroblem is that I think I need to push the lid off from the inside before I can jump out.

I first considered simply giving notice. Just tell them I've had enough and I'll be done in two weeks. Of course, I can't afford to do that. I need to find something else before I can do that. After all, it isn't as though anyone is threatening me or I'm in jeopardy of losing my job... at least, I hope not. My inclination at this point, though, is to bring a box from home, pack up all of my personal belongings and mark time until I can locate suitably gainful employment.

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Update 1-29-04: I spoke to my supervisor and basically told him that I felt like I had become first, second, and third level support. I said, "I can't do this. My blood pressure is through the roof and my stress level is at maximum. I just can't do this."

We'll see what happens.

No honor in Nashville

There was a story in the January 25, 2004 issue of the Washington Post that the city of Nashville had stopped posting the honor roll. The reason given was "a few parents complained that their children might be ridiculed for not making the list."

Now, before I go off on this, let's cover a few issues about this story to be fair. The school system in Nashville is following the advice of their legal council on the grounds that "state privacy laws forbid releasing any academic information, good or bad, without permission." Fair enough. Although federal student privacy guidelines allow for the release of information such as honor rolls, the Nashville decision is based on a rarely-challenged state privacy law dating back to 1970.

The school board should be applauded because, according to the story, "School officials are developing permission slips to give parents of the Nashville district's 69,000 students the option of having their children's work recognized. They hope to get clearance before the next grading cycle -- in about six weeks at some schools."

My problem is with all these winy-ass idiots who think life should be fair and nobody should have their feelings hurt. Here's what I have to say to them:

KISS MY ASS!!!

In life, there are winners and there are losers. Deal with it. Every front has a back, every day has a night, and every good has a bad.

Now, I realize the days of dunce caps and announcing grades while handing back papers is over. It is unfair and humiliating to point a finger at someone and tell them they are stupid. Many studies have shown that if you tell students they are underachievers, they will be underachievers and vice versa. But the honor roll is something for a student to strive for. It's no wonder Generation X and Generation Y have no goals... all their goals have been taken away.

It is these situations of "fairness" and "equity" that prove that communism doesn't work. If I work hard and achieve some measure of excellence, I hope (and expect, really) to be rewarded for that in some way, even intrinsically. Conversely, if I don't put forth any effort and achieve nothing, I don't expect to share in any glory. Communism says they are the same. (Don't argue with me! This is they way I view it, this is my blog, and I don't care what you think about communism!)

Let me quote you another part of the story...

But some school systems already get parents to sign a release before student information is made public. Others think it might be a good idea to get rid of the honor roll altogether, as Principal Steven Baum did at Julia Green Elementary in Nashville.

"The rationale was, if there are some children that always make it and others that always don't make it, there is a very subtle message that was sent," he said. "I also understand right to privacy is the legal issue for the new century."

Baum thinks spelling bees and other publicly graded events are leftovers from the days of ranking and sorting students.

"I discourage competitive games at school," he said. "They just don't fit my worldview of what a school should be."

What a bonehead!!! Why bother handing out grades at all? If I had a child in his school, I'd certainly be looking at another school because I don't give a rats ass about his worldview of what a school should be. You're in the service of the community and the state, Mr. Baum. This is not your private little citadel.

Here's my point, really. Life has many ups and downs. There are times when we win and times when we lose. We should always work to win in a fair an honest manner but we must recognize that there are times when we will lose. What we need to learn is that, when we lose, we learn from that experience. It is the responsibility of the parents to help the children learn these lessons and continue to feel good about themselves even in adversity.

Related links:
WVLT TV Story
Miami Herald Story
Youngstown, OH Vindicator
Oakland Tribune

It was an early morning yesterday... I was up before the dawn

I woke up relatively early for a Saturday morning. This happens often. I wake up sometime between seven and eight a.m., answer the call of nature, and crawl back under the covers. Rarely, I'll go right back to sleep. Usually, one of three things will happen:
1) The dogs need to go out and won't stop bugging me. By the time I take the time to let them out then let them back in, I'm too awake to get back to sleep easily.
2) My mind wakes up and starts writing a blog entry, thinking about the chores of the day, or playing an annoying song over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over... STOP IT! Or I'll take away your stereo privileges!
3) My body wakes up, ready to do something and won't stop bugging my brain to get up.

Yes, I could overcome any of these but it would be at the cost of spousal slumber. Those of you who are married, have been married, or are cohabitating already understand. For those of you who sleep solo, see if you can grok it.

Getting back to sleep once you are awake involves comfort. The first thing you want to do is locate the "comfy spot" on the bed. If you've merely taken a quick trip to the bathroom and are still groggy, the comfy spot is right there where you left it. You simply crawl back into it, make some minor adjustments to body position and is off to snoreville. If your brain activates in the intervening time between exit and re-entry, you forget where it is. If your body awakens, the comfy spot no longer fits. Either way, you have to spend time trying to find a new comfy spot.

Here's how it usually happens for me....

I re-enter the sleep zone and return to something resembling the body position I was in when I left. I start to settle in when, suddenly, I hear, "Lolly lolly lolly get your adverbs here... lolly lolly lolly get your adverbs here." (or some equally obnoxious hook from a song for which I don't know all the words). "SHHH!!" I admonish, then try to let sleep wash over me.

Within 30 seconds, I can start to hear a sound. It's very quiet. I focus my perception and... is that music?... Yes... Yes, I believe it is. What song is it?

I move closer to the sound. It's definately music but I can't make out the words. Blast! It's driving me crazy. I scrunch my eyes and divert all auxiliary power to the auditory receptors, turning my ear toward the sound. What... is... that? I can barely...

"LOLLY LOLLY LOLLY GET YOUR ADVERBS HERE... LOLLY LOLLY LOLLY GET YOUR ADVERBS HERE!"

Gaaaahhh!!!!

"WILL YOU PLEASE TURN THAT OFF!!!"

It goes silent.

Now, my comfy spot has gone sour and I must find a new one. I shift my body position slightly... no good. I shift the other way... still no good. I roll over. That's better.

"Lolly lolly lolly get you adverbs here..."

"SHUSH!!!!"

Dang... now the pillow needs fluffing. [poke] [poke] [shuffle] [shuffle] [fluff] Head down. Breathe in... breathe out... breathe in... breathe out... ahhhh.

Great... my leg itches. I'll just ignore it and it will quit. Breathe in... breath out... breathe in... [itchy itchy] breathe out... breathe in... breathe out... [itchy itchy] breathe in [itchy itchy] breathe out [itchy itchy] breathe [itchy itchy] in [itchy itchy] breathe [itchy itchy] [itchy itchy] out [itchy itchy] [itchy itchy] [itchy itchy]

[SCTATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH]

Comfy spot compromised. Must find new one.

This dance continues until you hear someone say... "Would you just settle down!"

Damn! She's awake. I've started her waking day with her pissed at me... not a good thing.

Now, I've learned to recognize the two internal influences of wakefulness and I just get up. If I get sleepy later I can always take a nap.

This post started out as something entirely different. I was going to get all descriptive about the fog outside and the cat sitting in the window watching me type but I kinda like how this turned out. I hope you enjoyed it.

How to talk to your cat

It amazes me sometimes how much I am used to the actions of my cat. One of her favorite things to do is to come along while I'm watching television and be next to me. She will crawl over the back of the sofa, down the arm of my recliner and place herself with her back legs on the arm of the recliner and her front legs on my right thigh. She purrs softly as I gently scratch behind her ears and under her chin (she likes that best). What makes this amazing is that I will look down and suddenly realize that she's there. It's as if to say, "Hello! When did you get here?" I know full well that she has been there for at least 15 minutes. It's a cozy feeling.

Last night, the most amazing thing happened. Nikita and I were watching television. Well... I was watching, she was lounging as usual. I was flipping between two or three programs, not fully engaged in any one, not wanting to leave any behind, and not ready to chuck the whole thing and go to bed. Finally, I landed on Animal Precinct just past the halfway point. It's usually at this point that they start arresting people and showing what has become of the animals they have left to unnatural selection.

One of the stories last night was about a cat that was found in a sewer and turned over to the ASPCA. As they were talking with the new owner, I commented to Niki that this cat could be related to her. He looked like a short-haired version of my cat. As I looked down at Niki, I noticed that she, too, was taking notice of this cat on television. She was actually watching TV!!

Don't get me wrong, I've seen videotape of animals watching television but my critters couldn't care less about what's on the noisy box that lights up. Once the segment was over, she went back to her disinterest. It was almost like, "Hey! I know that guy!"

Reflections of attitude

In her latest blog entry titled TGIF, my sister was lamenting the events of the past week with "I hope that this is not a reflection on how the remainder of 2004 is going to go."

Boy, do I know how she feels.

Let me start by hitting the highlights of the lowlights of our vacation:

Friday 12-26-03: Major traffic jam due to construction. It takes us 1.5 hours to move about 2 miles.

Sunday: Major traffic jam due to MVA.

Tuesday: The timeshare presentation that wouldn't end combined with deaf salespeople who didn't give a RATS ASS about customer service.

Wednesday: 1) An hour-long wait for chicken McNuggets at a couter-service food pavilion that Disney doesn't even acknowledge. 2) A human traffic jam trying to exit the world showcase after the 7:40pm Illuminations fireworks show. It took us over an HOUR to walk from Norway to Mexico and out into Futureworld, finally passing three baton-weilding employees directing non-existent traffic on the bridge. (I'm still trying to write the letter to Disney on that one without using curse words). 3) Being hungry after our ordeal in Epcot, we discovered that Kissimmee had pretty much shut down at 10pm New Year's Eve. Thank goodness for IHOP.

Friday: We checked into a New Orleans hotel amongst a TON of University of Oklahoma fans to find a small room with broken lights that the hotel wasn't very expedient to fix and an elevator call button that didn't work. Thank God for the $2.00 draft beer at the hotel bar.

Saturday: A disastrous visit to Cafe DuMonde. Normally, we would park and sit but parking was set at a flat rate of FOURTEEN DOLLARS because of the sugar bowl. Then, while backing out of one of the parking lots, I cracked the tail light on Shelly's car.
TIP: If you have to get your beignets and coffee to go and you plan on eating them in the car... just skip it. The experience is not at all the same.

So we arrive home Saturday night but by Sunday afternoon, I'm in full-blown cold mode. Fever, chills, congestion... the works.

Monday: Skip work because of cold
Tuesday: Go to work with foggy head because of cold
Wednesday: Cold migrates into tonsilitis
Thursday: Tonsilitis clearing a bit thanks to chemical assistance provided by doctor
Friday: Back to work with major frustration. I started the day with about a dozen trouble tickets, closed about ten throughout the day and ended the day with twenty-three.

I hope that this is not a reflection on how the remainder of 2004 is going to go.

And now you know the rrrrest of the story

Tomorrow is trash day in my neighborhood. In the six months or so we've lived in this house, I've come to learn two things about trash service. First, if you want your trash picked up you had better get it out on the curb the night before. The trash truck arrives on my street right at or just before seven a.m. At seven a.m., I'm usually just getting out of the shower or barely have my pants on. Second, your trash had better be in a trash can or it will be all over your yard.

I tried just dumping the bags on the curb but they always managed to become... disassembled by morning. The trash service will usually pick up what's left in and of any compromised trash bags but there's always residue to deal with. I had always assumed it was a neighborhood dog that was causing the overnight devastation. I was always uncomfortable with that conclusion because there aren't that many dogs in our neighborhood and I don't usually see them running amok. A few weeks ago, I discovered who the real culprits are.

It was trash day and, having forgotten to get trash out the night before and being dressed enough to get it out on time, I gathered the trash around the house. It was pretty light, only two bags. Since the bags were only destined to be exposed to the neighborhood wilds for a few minutes, I just dropped the bags on the curb.

As I continued my morning routine, I went into my office to retrieve something I needed to take to work. My office is at the front of the house and has two windows that face the street. As I walked in, I looked through the window and the mystery of the exploding trash bags was suddenly solved. There, dancing around my two freshly-placed bags of refuse as if looking for a doorway or hopping in anticipation were half a dozen big black crows. That's right, noisy, road-kill scavenging crows. I had never dreamed that a crow would go after kitchen waste but, when I saw them, it made perfect sense. With the wetland behind us, we attract many a fowl friend - crows included - and they are the midnight marauders.

The vacation that never should have been

We just returned home from our Florida vacation. It was, perhaps, the most frustrating, depressing, and stressful vacation I have been on since Shelly and I got married. We spent too much money that we didn't have to go where we didn't enjoy ourselves and we took a long time to get there and back. Not a single day went by that something did not go wrong -- be it traffic or poor customer service.

Oh, to be sure there were high points. The entire trip cannot be classified as "Are we having fun yet?" but that question did arise and was verbalized.

As I sort through it all in my brain, I'll share with you the triumphs and tragedies.

Glad to be home,
Uncle Bubby

The ghost of Christmas past

For many years now I have been chasing the specter of what Christmas used to mean to me. I have tried to recapture the child-like excitement and grandeur of Christmas. Just as many things that you recall from childhood do not seem so big once you see them in the light of adulthood, so has Christmas diminished for me.

This does not mean that I have lost my Christmas spirit or that I don’t recall the true meaning of Christmas. It just means that the phantom I have been seeking now seems nothing more than a wisp.

Let me take you back into my memory and show you what Christmas used to be. Come on… it’s just up here to the left.

My family always had an artificial Christmas tree. Some yuletide purists would call this a travesty but when a real Christmas tree has the potential to kill your older sister because of her allergies, you adjust. Because of this, the tradition around my house was never picking out a tree but picking it out of the attic. Along with the tree came the many boxes of ornaments, garlands, lights, wreaths and other holiday accoutrements. For as much as I hated going up into the attic, I was always eager to scramble up to retrieve the decorations while my father and brother waited for me to slide the boxes down the ladder.

For some reason, my father – and I have somehow been cursed to continue this tradition – had a knack for choosing the most difficult tree to assemble. As the tree was dumped out of the box, the boughs would have to be separated. Each level and, thus, length of branch was distinguished by colored paint at the tip of the bough to be inserted into the center pole. The only problem with this was the manufacturer would use odd colors. Rather than bright green, red, blue, fuchsia and other easily distinguished colors, the nutcase assigned this task would use dark brown, black and navy combined with dark red and burnt orange: Masochists.

At any rate, most of a weekend would be spent decorating the tree and the house to brighten up to the season. Soon after, we could look forward to the arrival of Christmas cards and bags we weren’t allowed to look in. As the weeks went by, the pretty boxes would start appearing under the tree. By Christmas Eve, they would be spilling over on all sides… my parents were good to us at Christmas.

Tradition dictated that on Christmas Eve we were allowed to open one gift of our choosing with the occasional exception of a gift related to another gift or, “No, you can’t open the big one tonight.” With excitement building to a fever pitch, secure in the knowledge that more presents would miraculously show up overnight, and knowing that several of my wishes for shiny new toys would be fulfilled, I would lay awake most of Christmas Eve – unable to sleep; restless with anticipation.

As the seconds ticked off and we came closer and closer to the dawn I would hope and hope and hope to hear another person stirring while the first rays of sunlight peeked through my window. I was long ago banned from waking the house at dawn on Christmas morning. I had to wait until at least one other person got up – on their own – before waking my other sibling and, finally, my parents.

Once everyone was roused from their slumber and mom and dad had a chance to work through their most basic morning routine, we were allowed to proceed downstairs to the family room to open presents… Yeah… Right… All three of us would gather at the top of the stairs like Labradors salivating for their treats and wait for mom and dad to emerge from their room. Once the door opened and they said, “Okay,” we would fly down the stairs into the living room and immediately start sorting through gifts.

“This one’s mine!”
“Oh WOW! I got a big one!!”
“Ooh! Here’s one for you, Mary!”

We would sort because it was poor etiquette to start ripping them open before mom and dad made it downstairs and had settled in. Not that I even knew what etiquette meant – I just knew it was a no-no.

The wrapping paper flew, boxes were opened, expressions of glee were uttered, and the gifts were stacked in five little piles as the contents of packages were disclosed. As we finished and said our thank-yous mom and dad would adjourn to the kitchen to make a hearty breakfast often consisting of eggs, bacon and/or sausage, and pancakes.

Once breakfast was started, the three of us would work to extract gifts from boxes and perform simple assembly – like putting the pistol into G.I. Joe’s kung-fu grip. We would sit in the living room and play, occasionally leaving to check on breakfast or to report revelations of, “Mom! Look what this can do!”

Once breakfast was over, the toys would rest among the shards of wrapping paper and empty boxes as we went upstairs to get ready for church. Often, we would wear that new shirt or sweater to show off at services… as did almost everyone else.

Most of the time, my family would sit near the front of the church – never the front row, though – but Christmas was different. Our church had what we called the mitten/sock tree. This was a live Christmas tree on which parishioners would hang… mittens and socks… that would be donated to local charities. Since it was a live tree, we had to sit near the back to avoid as much sinus congestion on the part of my sister as possible.

I was never overly fond of church services. This is a fact that will not surprise my father but will also not make him happy. For some reason, I just didn’t get into it. Christmas, however, was different. The pageantry and the fellowship as well as the opportunity to show off new clothes are memories I wouldn’t trade for anything.

After church, we would change into new non-dress clothes and go back to playing with our new toys. Then, somewhere in the midst of the afterglow of pretty paper, pancakes, and prayer, the Vermont and New York contingents would check in. My grandparents and aunts and uncles would call. After mom and dad had a nice talk with them, us three kids would each take a turn. Some calls would last over an hour as the phone was passed from person to person in each household.

Back then, Christmas was a full day of celebration. Now, it seems more like six weeks of stress searching for and wrapping gifts, finalizing travel plans, and trying to keep our own house in order followed by fifteen minutes of mayhem as wrapping paper is forcefully separated from what it covered. After that, children disappear to play video games and adults settle in to watch television.

Maybe it’s just a case of holiday blues. Maybe it’s adulthood. Maybe it's that I'm turning cynical. Maybe it’s a lack of religion. I only hope that, someday, I will be able to recapture the magic of Christmas past.

All I want for Christmas...

It's less than a week until the day when Christians experience the magic and miracle of the Christmas holiday. That time when families gather around a feast in celebration and fellowship. That time when our warmest thoughts are of friends and family to whom we haven't addressed a card yet. That time when you know you'll get a chance to see your black-sheep uncle get drunk on egg nog and... well... let's just say last year was veeeeery interesting. That time when all good little girls and good little boys celebrate the true meaning of the season - TOYS!

Growing up I can remember knowing that the Christmas season was upon us not by the shift in focus of television commercials but, rather, by the arrival of the Sears Wish Book. I don't know if Sears still produces this behemoth of a catalog since they shut down their catalog division but imagine a major metropolitan telephone directory and you'll get an idea for the size.

I can't tell you much about what the catalog contained. I know it featured clothes and bed linens but I never really examined it that closely. I can tell you with 100% confidence that the toys were at the back.

Christmas lists were not even attempted in our house without the aid of this authoritative tome of the latest and greatest toys and games on the market. Each of us three children would take turns thumbing through the catalog - backwards - and assembling our wish lists. Mine was usually the longest and most spectacular. I recall once or twice enumerating my requests and coming up with well over 100 items. As a child, I wanted.

As I grew up, the back of the Sears catalog became less and less important to me. Today, there are no authoritative assemblages of products on which I base my wish lists (unless you count the Best Buy ad inserts in the Sunday paper). Of course, that doesn't mean my lists are any less spectacular. In my family, my Christmas lists are items of legend. No matter how complicated the assembly, no matter how large the price tag, if it caught my eye, it was on the list.

Of course, to be fair to everyone's wallet, my list comprises a wide spectrum of price points. If you really want to get me an expensive gift, you'll know what it should be - often right down to the model number. On the other end, if money is tight, I'm happy with blank CDs or a Barnes & Noble gift certificate.

A couple of years ago, I was forced to do some soul-searching and discovered that I was being overly selfish in many aspects of my life. As it came close to the time when I would normally start my wish list, I left the pen down and decided that - in the true spirit of Christmas - I would not distribute a Christmas list. After all, I'm pretty easy to buy for. If it beeps, blinks, buzzes, plugs in or is battery or gasoline powered - I'll take it.

This decision, for some reason, did not go over well. From all members of my family I received queries of, "Where's your list?" When I told them I didn't have one and started to explain my ideological epiphany I was usually cut off by, "I have to have a list." or "How do I know what to buy you without a list?" So I quickly put together a, for me, modest list and sent it out some time between Thanksgiving and mid-December. It was still an excellent Christmas in the gift department.

So, now, even though I realize the grandeur of my Christmas list - which, in the past, has included high-end digital cameras, video cameras, PDAs, and any variety of blinking black boxes - is overtly selfish, it has become tradition. Every person can fill in the statement, "Christmas just isn't Christmas without ________." in some unique way. For some it's the B.C. Clark sale jingle or egg nog-flavored ice cream at Braum's. For others it's seeing Santa Claus sledding atop a Norelco razor or the first snowfall. In my family, at least in part, Christmas just isn't Christmas without Joey's Christmas list.

Therefore, in the family Christmas tradition, I announced my wish list this year with much grandeur and hoopla along the lines of, "I'm here. We can start the party now."

Honestly, the memories are the best gift (but, boy, am I getting a lot of mileage out of that home theater sound system I got a few years ago) --- They really are.

You all have a fun and safe holiday season!

Light up the season

I like to make candles. Nothing fancy, just colored, scented votives and container candles. About two years ago I found a candle-making kit at a craft store during an after-holiday sale. Since I enjoy scented candles, I thought it might be fun to learn how to make them... I was right. I now find candlemaking very relaxing.

I recently made about a dozen votive candles of varying scents and colors that my wife gave to one of her co-workers in a secret Santa exchange. Santa wasn't so secret (and he usually isn't - it's pretty easy to figure out who got who what with only about 8 people exchanging) and now another one of her co-workers wants to know how to make candles... So, I present to you

Uncle Bubby's Guide to Candlemaking Click here for a printer-friendly version

Equipment you'll need:

• Candle wax.
  
  
  
  • This is available at most craft stores in a variety of sizes from 1lb chunks to 10lb slabs.
    
  
  
• Some sort of melting container.
  
  
  
  • I find it best to use a double-boiler but you can also use a glass measuring cup heated in a water bath [the heat dissipates quite a bit so it takes much longer to melt and get up to temperature using this method] or a specially-made aluminum melting pot [I've never used one because most outlets want $15.00 for one - I got my double-boiler for ten cents at a garage sale].
    
  
  
• Candlemaking thermometer.
  
  
  
  • You may eventually be able to work without one, as I recently discovered when mine was mislaid, but it's best to start with one.
    
  
  
• Molds or containers.
  
  
  
  • Molds are designed to shape the candle and can then be re-used. With containers, such as small glass jars, you pour the wax in and that's where it stays.
    
  • A hint about containers - a narrow neck and opening will cause the candle to burn in a tunnel, wasting a large amount of wax and easily drowning your wick. A large top surface area - or burning a votive without a holder, for that matter - will cause the candle to burn faster.
    
  
  
• Pre-tabbed wicks or wicking material and tabs. (start with the pre-tabbed)
  
• Color blocks (optional)
  
  
  
  • Color blocks are small (1-2 oz) blocks of densely-colored, unscented wax that you can use to color your candles. I recommend buying a red, yellow and blue block. That way, you can combine them to make any color you want.
    
  
  
• Scent blocks or scent oils (optional).
  
  
  
  • Scent blocks are similar to color blocks. They are small uncolored, densely-scented wax that you shave off into your mix to give scent to your candles. I much prefer the scent oils, however, because they give off a stronger and longer-lasting scent.
    
  • Any type of scent oil will work whether it's made for candles, soap, light rings or whatever. The scent oils for candlemaking, however, are specially formulated to release scent as they are heated and will give optimum results.
    
  
  
• Additives (optional)
  
  
  
  • There are several different additives you can purchase such as stearic, vybar, translucent crystals, and others that help to harden the wax for longer burn times, or even out scent and color distribution, or a variety of other effects.
    
  
  
• Something to stir with.
  
  
  
  • I wouldn't recommend a plastic spoon. It may be difficult to get the wax off it and, depending on the quality of the spoon, you could possible melt some of the plastic into your candle.
    
  • Wooden spoons are best but the wax tends to soak into the woodgrain a bit. I usually use the handle of a wooden spoon or I used to use a wooden drumstick - until I lost it.
    
  
  
• A hammer
  
• A chisel or screwdriver
  
• A pocket knife or paring knife
  
• Toothpick(s) or a dowel
  

Preparation

• Prepare your melting pot. If it's a double boiler, put the water in the lower half, insert the top piece and set on stove. You can also attach your thermometer.
  
• Set out your molds or containers. Since pouring can be messy, place a couple of layers of newspaper or butcher paper underneath. Be sure to insert your wick pins if you're using them.
  
• Gather your scents and colors so they're handy when you need them.
  
• Break up your wax - this is where the hammer, chisel or screwdriver, and pocket knife come in handy.
  
  
  
  • Melting wax is a little like melting cheese. If you throw a big block of it in the pot it will eventually all melt but it's going to go a lot quicker if you break it up.
    
  • One pound of wax will make 6-8 votives.
    
  
  

Making your candles

1. Begin heating your melting pot. You can do this shortly after starting to break up your wax and, by the time you're done, most of it will be melted if you toss it in as you go along.
   
   
   
   • CAUTION: liquefied candle wax is very hot. Tossing or dropping items into your melting pot may cause splashing which can cause burns if hot wax comes in contact with the skin.
     
   
   
2. Bring your wax up to pouring temperature, stirring occasionally. Your candle thermometer will show pouring ranges but, just in case you don't have one, here are some guidelines.
   
   
   
   • Sheet Metal Molds - Generally poured at 185 to 190 degrees F. Will usually withstand temperatures up to 225 degrees F. If poured much hotter than that, you risk ruining the mold (the solder seams will soften from excessive heat).
     
   • Seamless Molds - Generally poured at 185 to 190 degrees F. Will withstand very high temperatures if needed.
     
   • Chocolate Molds (all clear plastic molds) - Maximum pouring temperature is 165 degrees F. Never pour hotter than this for any reason. Any hotter and the mold will soften and begin to distort. It is a good idea to support these in a tray of sand.
     
   • Other Plastic Molds - Most plastic candle molds should be poured at 170 to 180 degrees F. Higher temperatures may damage the mold.
     
   • Silicone Molds - You can pour these at 190 to 200 degrees F. Very resistant to heat damage, so substantially higher temps may be used if needed
     
   • Latex Molds - Usually poured at 155 to 160 degrees F. Hotter temperatures will distort the candle, and may damage the mold
     
   • Containers - Usually poured at 180 to 185 degrees F. Lower temperatures may be used if the jar is preheated.
     
     
     
     • This list was copied from http://candleandsoap.about.com/library/weekly/aa062403.htm
       
     
     
   
   
3. Once your wax is at or very near your melting point, stir in any additives you will be using.
   
4. Once your additives have melted, start adding your color(s).
   
   
   
   • To test your color, wait until the color additive is evenly distributed then spoon a small amount out onto the paper under your molds or any other piece of white paper you may have handy. Blow gently on the glob of wax to help it cool. Adjust your colors as necessary.
     
   • Remember, it is easy to add more color but impossible to take it out. Start by shaving small amounts of the color block off into your mixture using the paring or pocket knife. Add more as necessary.
     
   
   
5. Once you have your color set and just before you're ready to pour, add your scent.
   
   
   
   • I don't know about you but I like my scented candles to have a strong scent. This is one of the reasons I prefer to use oils over scent blocks. You should initially follow the manufacturers instructions for the amount of scent-per-pound to add but feel free to adjust it to your preference.
     
   
   
6. Turn off the heat and give your mixture a final, gentle, stirring. If you stir too vigorously, you'll get air bubbles.
   
7. Slowly pour your wax into your molds. Pouring too quickly can result in air bubbles. Remember to reserve some of the liquid for your second pour (see below)
   
   
   
   • TIP: For better control, I usually pour the wax from my pot into a glass measuring cup then pour into the molds from the measuring cup.
     
   
   
8. Let the candles cool for a couple of minutes, then insert your wicks (unless, of course, you're using wick pins). You can insert wicks immediately after pouring if you want, but I find it easier to place them if the candle has set up a bit around the edges and bottom.
   
9. As the wax cools, it will begin to shrink. After about 10-15 minutes, using a toothpick or dowel, poke a small hole in the top of the wax near the wick to keep the wax from pulling away from the wick.
   
10. After another 15 minutes or so, you will see the top of the candle forming a divot near the wick. You will need to do a second pour to get rid of the divot. Reheat your remaining wax to pouring temperature and fill in the void. Be careful to pour even with the top of your first pour for a smooth finish.
    
    
    
    • On large candles, you may need to repeat this step several times.
      
    
    
11. All that's left now is letting your candles cool and set. Allow the candle to cure fully before attempting to remove from the mold. The larger the candle the longer it takes.
    
12. Remove the candle from the mold by pulling gently on the wick. If it doesn't come out easily, don't force it.
    
    
    
    • Some sources recommend using a release agent - silicone spray or peanut oil - but I don't usually use any since my candles are so small.
      
    • With small votives, I find it easiest to give the mold a gentle squeeze, rotating it in my hand as I do. Eventually, I'll either see the edges release or will actually hear it release. Be careful, the top edges of the molds may be sharp.
      
    • If your release agent isn't helping or squeezing the mold doesn't work, some sources say putting the candle in the refrigerator for 5-10 minutes will help.
      
    
    

Candle Burning Tips

• Never leave a lit candle unattended. Watch your candles. This will prevent wax from spilling over and potentially harmful accidents from occurring.
  
• Trim wicks to ¼ inch and re-trim before each burn. Wick length determines flame height, the longer the wick the larger and more unwieldy the flame. The larger the flame, the faster your candle will burn.
  
• Keep candles out of reach of children and pets and remove all flammable materials from the vicinity of the flame. Remove all debris from candle.
  
• Always burn candles on a protected, noncombustible, heat-resistant surface securely placed on an appropriate holder.
  
• Extinguish candles by blowing them out gently, so as not to splatter liquid wax, or use a snuffer. Do not use water! In the case of jars, do not replace the lid while burning.
  
• Containers may become hot. Handle with care.
  
• Votive candles are designed to liquefy while burning and must be used in an appropriate sized container. The inside of the container should be of similar size to the votive candle. Too wide of a container will leave the liquid wax too far from the flame and excess wax will remain. If burned free-standing, votives will drip.
  
• Always remove metal tabs or clips from the bottom of the container before adding another candle.
  

Although I cannot endorse any vendors I do realize that craft stores sometimes put a premium price on their supplies. Below is a list of internet vendors that may have better prices on waxes, molds, scents and other supplies. Shop around - the vendor with the best price on wax may not have the best price on molds, etc.

TIP: Some suppliers provide wholesale bulk packs of wax in minimum quantities of 50 pounds. If you run across this, look to see if they have a 10 pound sample pack. Many of them do.

Wax
http://www.candlesandsupplies.com/waxgel.html
http://www.candlesupply.com/waxes.html
http://www.lonestarcandlesupply.com/wax.html
http://www.sissiescandles.com/waxes.htm

Molds
http://www.cierracandles.com/molds.htm
http://www.candlesandsupplies.com/miscmolds.html
http://www.candlesupply.com/molds.html
http://www.lonestarcandlesupply.com/molds.html

Scents
http://www.lonestarcandlesupply.com/scents.html
http://www.candlesandsupplies.com/allscent.html
http://www.candlesupply.com/scent.html
http://www.cierracandles.com/scents.htm
http://www.sissiescandles.com/fos.htm

The choice is clear

Because certain persons were not in the know - and we didn't want them to immediately be - I have not yet discussed this subject in a public forum. A situation arose and a decision has been made.

Hold on! Don't you dare scroll down to the bottom to see what the decision is... that wouldn't be right, now would it?

About a month ago, Shelly decided to apply for a job, doing much the same work that she currently does, with the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, DC. The decision to apply was based on an interesting job description for which she matched the qualifications. There was also a factor of prestige in that the job was with the Smithsonian.

The application went in and we received a phone call a few days later. Shelly was granted a telephone interview. This 45-minute interview turned into an hour and a half. Everything went well and she was told there would be a second round of phone interviews, followed by the live interviews.

The second round of phone interviews never materialized. We received another call within 48 hours advising her that live interviews had been tentatively scheduled and to be thinking about which day she would prefer to interview. After another 48 hours we had our plane tickets and hotel reservations.

Shelly and I flew to DC...

Wait a minute... I've told you all of this before, haven't I? Why didn't you stop me?

Okay okay... let's get on track. Shelly had the interview and was offered a job last Thursday. I had prayed all along that, no matter what the decision should be, that it should be obvious whether or not she should take the job. At first, it wasn't obvious. Shelly was offered a salary that, in raw dollars, was significantly higher than anything either of us had ever made.

Upon further investigation, she had already done some figuring. She determined that, for a location cost-of-living differential plus benefits that are currently paid by OSU, she would need to be offered approximately $3,000.00 per year more than what she was offered. There was still room for negotiation so we (well, she, really) spent the weekend agonizing over whether or not she really wanted to accept the job if they offered her the right amount of money.

Again, I prayed for clarity. I prayed for the decision to become obvious... and it became obvious this morning.

Despite the desire of the departmental supervisor to hire her, there was just not enough in the budget to even match her minimum requirements.

We will not be moving to Washington, DC any time in the near future.

Ode to a coffee pot

[I found this in an old (1987) journal I was perusing and though I would share it]

I have my cup of coffee,
As I sit with book and pen.

I drink a sip both here and there,
And then I can't refrain.

Oh, coffee pot come quickly, now,
And fill it up again.

What's your passion?

[This entry is the result of a writing prompt at http://www.fictionaddiction.net/prompt.html]

I have many passions. I have a passion for love. I have a passion for computers. I have a passion for my family. I have a passion for keychains. You might say I'm generally a passionate person.

The question is, what is passion? The media appears to define it as something sexual. Although sex can be very passionate, I consider passion to be a strong emotional connection to a person, object or activity. Webster tends to agree with me for the most part.

In retrospect (to this entry) I think I've developed a passion for blogging.

Enjoy your day, people!!

DC Comics

I promised to tell you more about the DC trip so here goes...

Knowing that Shelly was going to be nervous and stressed about the interview (she always gets that way about interviews), I took it upon myself to make the weekend a little more relaxing. A few days before we left, I contacted the concierge at the hotel. I arranged to have some flowers and a cheese tray delivered to the hotel room when we arrived. (I will not shock you with the cost of this gesture) Since we arrived a couple of hours before check-in, but the room was ready anyway, the goodies were not waiting for us upon arrival.

We took some time to get settled and stop "flying" and decided to go down to the restaurant to get something to eat - that's where I had the Krabby Patty. Just before we were ready to leave, Shelly noticed the message light on the phone blinking. I called down - the flowers were here so I had them sent up.

Once the flowers arrived, I told her about the plan and the cheese tray. She was appreciative but hungry so we headed downstairs. As we got to the dining level, I realized I had forgotten something in the room and went back up. I met the man from room service and had him put the cheese tray in the room for our later consumption.

After lunch we decided to hop the Metro and go to the Pentagon City shopping center. After more than a week, I can't for the life of me recall what was significant enough about our trip to the shopping center that it bears mention... perhaps I'll recall later. At any rate, we did some souvenir shopping (including purchasing a White House Christmas ornament) and a little Christmas shopping and managed to waste a couple of hours.

On our way back to the hotel, I was extremely exhausted. Those of you that know Shelly know that she does not walk very fast. I often find myself having to slow my pace so I don't leave her behind. I sometimes forget myself and end up turning to make a comment to a complete stranger that has appeared in my shadow but I usually make up for it by sticking with her while whatever group we are with forges ahead. I tell you that to illustrate just how exhausted I was. As we left the metro and walked back to the hotel part of the corridor had a slight slope to it. The slope required enough effort on my part to overcome that I nearly had to ask Shelly to slow down and wait for me. Needless to say, I took a nap when we got back to the room.

When I awoke, I joined my wife on the sofa for cheese, strawberries and grapes. We each sampled a couple of the cheeses - many of which we could not identify - and came to a realization... we had no crackers. I made a call and room service was kind enough to bring some up.

Once we had the crackers, we dug in. There was a sliced, yellow cheese that I think was Colby. There was also a sliced white cheese that I think may have been mozarella, although the flavor was a little sharper than what I think of when I think of Mozarella. There was a small wheel of what we're pretty sure was a sharp white cheddar. There were chunks of a semi-soft white cheese that had some sort of thin seedlike spice in it - it had a pungent flavor but was nonetheless good. There was also a cream cheese that tasted wonderful with the grapes and a wedge of some soft cheese-like substance that tasted like feet. I only tried one bite of that last one - that was enough.

Once we'd had our fill of cheese I was thinking of going back to sleep but was extremely restless. Near the coffee maker was a packet of camomille tea. If you're feeling restless camomille is a wonderful way to relax. I chilled out and watched some TV.

By 8pm, we were both hungry again and in want of some real food. There was a food court in the underground mall accessible from the hotel. I volunteered to go down and grab us some sandwiches or a couple of burgers.

That particular section of the mall is about 1/4 to 1/2 a mile from the hotel. I took the elevator to the basement and walked all the way to where the food court was but everything was closed for the night. Now, I realize this is the downtown section of a major metropolitan area but who closes a mall at 6pm? I mean, really! Oh, well, it was good exercise.

I went back to the room and told Shelly the good news. She at least wanted a cup of hot chocolate so I headed to the bar/lounge/whatever where they serve Starbuck's coffee. Let me tell you, six pumps of chocolate syrup mixed with freshly steamed milk makes one HELL of a cup of hot chocolate! I decided to check on the possibility of getting something from the restaurant "to go" but ran into the soup Nazi. Actually, the gentleman was quite friendly but explained that the only way to get a to go order was through room service - which charges a 19% service charge plus a $2 delivery charge... a couple of hot sandwiches would have cost us $50.

At any rate, we thoroughly enjoyed our hot chocolate and made an early night of it.

On the subject of giving thanks

This past week was Thanksgiving. [The previous announcement was brought to you by the SSO (Society for Stating the Obvious)] As I was returning from Kansas City this evening, I began to really think about all the things I have to be thankful for.

• My mom and dad celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary this past June. They really take the 'til death do us part thing seriously.
  
• Shelly and I celebrated our 13th anniversary this past May. We've had our share of speed bumps but we're doing well.
  
• With all of the changes and other shenanigans going on at work, I still really like my job.
  
• I have a boss who trusts me and whom I trust.
  
• I am not my job.
  
• I have learned many lessons about life from many people.
  
• I am rich because I have friends - true friends.
  
• I get to wake up every morning and see the beauty of nature out my back window.
  
• My brother, sister and I get along with each other and we talk now and then.
  
• I have a warm bed to sleep in and a roof over my head.
  

There are many more items I could add to that list and some that are beyond words.

Thanks.

Thanksgiving dinner on 1 hour or less

It was Thanksgiving day. The plan was that I was already supposed to be in Kansas City and Shelly would join me Saturday to go see Shania Twain in concert.

It didn't happen that way.

Earlier in the week, we had tried to find someone to take care of the dogs. Normally, we'd just leave them outside with plenty of water and extra food but Bear is getting old and the weather is getting cold. Shelly was going to stay close to home Thursday and Friday and our good friend Kevin could come in over the weekend.

It didn't happen that way.

I was feeling guilty about being with my folks on the holiday but leaving my family at home. Shelly grew up in a different environment and told me she really didn't mind and knew how important it was to me to see my parents. I didn't make the decision to go until Wednesday night. I went to bed with my mouth watering in anticipation of a big turkey dinner surrounded by my mom, dad, brother, sister, niece and nephews.

It didn't happen that way.

What did happen was that sinusitis made my decision for me. Shelly had started feeling bad Wednesday night and by Thursday morning was on the verge of a cold (that never quite developed). Basically, she felt awful and when it came down to go/no go for KC we had a talk.

Bless he heart because I asked her if she wanted me to stay home with her and she hesitated. From the way she was talking and sniffling, I could tell she was absolutely miserable and didn't really want to be at home by herself. I'd been there myself not a week before and I knew the answer to the question before I asked it but she hesitated. When I asked again, she looked at me and said, "I know you really want to see your parents."

"That's not what I asked," I began. "Would you rather I stay home with you?"

Again, she hesitated, then looked at me with those puffy eyes and nodded. I picked up the phone, let my mom know I wouldn't be there until probably Saturday, and laid down to take a nap.

Later in the afternoon, I was wandering around the kitchen trying to decide what to have for dinner. My lunch had consisted of a peanut butter sandwich (the jelly had crystalized). I needed something of substance and was trying to decide what to make. After turning my nose at some leftovers and deciding a couple of boxed dinners were too complex for my desires at the moment, I came to a realization: It was Thanksgiving and I wanted a turkey dinner.

Thank goodness Wal-Mart is not only open 24 hours but also open on Thanksgiving.

Now, generally, I don't like to support the evil empire that is Wal-Mart unless I can help it but this was desperation.

"I'm off to get dinner." I told Shelly.
"Oh? What's for dinner?"
"Turkey, of course. It's Thanksgiving."
"And, where are you going to get a turkey dinner?" she inquired.
"Wal-Mart."

I hopped in the truck and was on my way. One of the local video stores that is not the evil empire that is Blockbuster but that I hadn't patronized in over ten years was open so I stopped there first. I was going to get Terminator 3 and either Bruce Almighty or Santa Clause 2. [T3 - Quality holiday entertainment!] I grabbed T3 then got distracted. Some noodlehead with a voice that could be heard throughout the store was looking for Emperor's New Groove and didn't care who knew about it. Here's how my thought process went...

Let's see... Bruce Almighty... B... Bruce Almighty... Bruce Almighty... Bruce's New Groove... E... Emperor's New Groove... NO NO NO!!! The line from Star Trek 6 popped into my head: "I'd give real money if he'd just SHUT UP!"

In the end, Bruce Almighty was all checked out so Santa Clause 2 was second on the marquee and it was on to Wal-Mart.

Wal-Mart was easy. I had already filled my shopping cart in my head. I grabbed a pre-cooked, processed turkey breast - the kind you might take to the deli to have sliced for sandwiches. Next, it was gravy. That was a little more difficult since they had obviously given up on stocking the shelves and had decided gravy by the paletteload wias the way to go. Problem was, they put it on the opposite end of the aisle.

I started heading toward the bakery for a... ooh! Stove Top stuffing! Can't have Thanksgiving without stuffing. So then it was off to the bakery for a pumpkin pie.

I zoomed up one side of the shelves... no pies. I zoomed down the other side of the shelves... no pumpkin pies. I toook another pass at the first side... still no pies. I headed back along the other side... wait... there'a a pumpkin pie... but it's almost 5 dollars. The store-brand sweet potato pie is only $2.50. I'll just take that. But I really want pumpkin. I guess if I have to pay $5 for a pumpkin pie, I'll just...

I was completely oblivious to the two shopping carts full of store-brand pumpkin pies that were no more than three feet away.

So... at $2.50 a pop, I bought a sweet potato and a pumpkin pie.

Including the stop at the video store, I was back home in just under an hour. I made the stuffing, sliced and heated the turkey and even warmed up some rolls. It was a good Thanksgiving and I loved spending it with my wife.

More bumps in the road

I woke up this morning around eight. I couldn't get back to sleep so I decided to go for breakfast. I had located a McDonalds on a map last night so I set out for the land of the McMuffin.

The McDonalds I had pinpointed ended up being underground with just about everything else in Crystal City. It was about a five minute walk but I was beat by the time I got back to the hotel. Shelly and I ate breakfast to the sounds of Headline News then decided to go back to dreamland.

I saw the top of the Washington Monument as we were leaving the airport... that's it so far.

Anyway... back to my story... When last we left our intrepid travelers, they had just landed at Reagan National airport in Washington, DC...

As we deplaned, I made a comment that the gate area looked like something out of Star Wars. That is, something you might see in the Death Star. It was a circular-shaped area with a large newsstand in the center. Above the newsstand was a central fixture as a design focal point. The fixture forms a hemispherical object made of several panels - I think it's a speaker cluster. From the edges, the ceiling rose in an arc, turned down quickly, then flowed smoothly, as if draped, toward the center, finally dropping down as if the fixture were hanging from it. It appeared to have pairs of giant tubes, evenly spaced, running along the arcs. Very sci-fi.

As we walked toward baggage claim, I commented on the apparent age of the facility. I would later discover that the other terminals were more up-to-date.

After collecting our bagage, we headed for the Metro line. The hotel was a mere one stop away. As Shelly stopped to pick up some information, the gentleman at the booth asked where we were heading. He told us that a courtesy shuttle runs every 15 minutes and it would take us directly to the hotel. We decided to take his advice. It was a good thing because we later found out we probably could have walked half the distance from the airport to the hotel just getting to and from the two Metro stops.

Once we placed ourselves at the appropriate location for pickup I took in my surroundings. The front of the airport is... well... interesting. It looks like a government building or, perhaps, one of the monuments. Several windows are efaced with tall, square columns. Accross the top it reads "Washington National Airport" and on either side of that are the eagle with the olive branch and arrows and another official-looking symbol. Very stark and very striking. I decided I wanted a picture. There were some signs in the way and the angle was better from across the street. The opposite sidewalk had a barrier along it so I trotted over and leaned up against it to take the picture.

I didn't see the cop coming until I'd already snapped a couple of shots.

I figured he was going to come over, tell me I shouldn't be leaning on that side of the barrier for my own safety and send me on my way. The conversation wen't something like this:

Officer: Hi there.
Joe: Hello
O: What are you doing?
J: Taking a picture.
O: Of what?
J: The front of the building.
O: Why?

Now, where I grew up, if someone has a badge, meaning he can arrest you, and he carries a gun, meaning he can shoot you, you respect that and answer whatever questions he asks you and you answer them truthfully. Honestly, though, by this time I was a little confused. This was the first time I'd ever been rousted for taking a picture.

J: (I answered haltingly) because I think it's kinda cool.
O: Well, that's alright. Do you have some ID?
- I showed it to him -
O: Tourist?
J: Yes.
O: What brings you to town?
J: My wife has a job interview on Monday.
O: What do you do?
J: I work with the email at Oklahoma State University.
O: Okay.

I presume he could either see the confusion (and a bit of apprehension) on my face or he has had this type of conversation quite a bit. He finished up by appologizing for the inconvenience and explaining that they've been through a lot since 9-11 and anything out of the ordinary makes them a bit nervous. [you may recall that the plane that hit the Pentagon took off from Reagan National]. He thanked me for my cooperation and sent me on my way.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank him for a job well done. He wasn't rude, he didn't ask anything unreasonable of me, and didn't delay me any longer than necessary. I'd also like to take this opportunity to give some advice - If you want to take a picture of the airport, ask the cop first.

When I got back to the shuttle waiting area, Shelly took the opportunity to say, "I tried to tell you you were about to get in trouble."

Shortly after, it was off to the hotel. The shuttle driver was less than enthusiastic about... breathing, I think. He didn't say anything beyond the required pleasantries and those he uttered with the minimum amount of effort to make them seem sincere. It was a nice, easy ride, though.

To give you an idea where the hotel is, I can see the airport from my hotel room. It's about three blocks away.

Anyway, when we checked in, we were informed that our room had been upgraded. I'm not sure if Marriott did it because Shelly asked about getting reward points and they weren't able to provide them because of the way we booked the room. I'm not sure if the concierge requested it because I had called about getting some flowers delivered to the room (more on that later) and he thought it might be a special occaision. I'm not sure if the Smithsonian requested it just to schmooze a bit. Honestly, I don't care. We ended up with a Jr. Suite. List price is $700.00 a night! Way cool.

Once we got settled we decided to go to the hotel restaurant and have lunch. The restaurant is honestly nothing to write home about, nor is the food, but I have to tell you what I had for lunch. I had a Chesapeake Crab Cake Sandwich. It consists of baked jumbo lump crabmeat served on an onion bun with lettuce, tomato and tartar sauce. As good as it sounds, it was actually rather bland but all I could think was, "I'm having a Krabby Patty for lunch"

I told you it was a very full day and, at the moment, it's getting a little late and I have to pack so we can maximize our efficiency tomorrow. More later and maybe some details of the interview.

Hang on, it's going to be a bumpy ride...

My day started last night and... well... I wouldn't say it's gotten worse from there but it sure has had some high points, some low points, some terrifying points, some surreal points and some paranoid points.

I finally got to bed last night around 11:30pm. Notice I didn't say I got to SLEEP at that time. Sleep did not come for me until almost one o'clock in the morning.

Wait... let me back up a few days and fill in some important historical detail. You'll recall that my GP diagnosed me with Trigeminal Neuralgia and prescribed medication. It was shortly after taking one of these medications on Wednesday night that I started to feel ill. The room began to get colder and my muscles started to ache from the chill. The thermometer confirmed it, I was sick.

By the time I went to bed Wednesday, my fever had topped out at 101.5, Tylenol wasn't touching it, I had a monster headache, a stuffed-up head, and two layers of clothing and a down comforter were all that were staving off the chills.

Now, you would think that, after a flu shot and a round of anti-viral drugs, I wouldn't get the flu but that sure is what it felt like.

Thursday morning, the doctor said it was a sinus infection and prescribed antibiotics, cough medicine and fluids.

To sum it up, I was suddenly taking even more pills and I felt much worse for it. I had even bruised my ribs and pulled muscles in my back from coughing so much.

To my benefit, I have a boss who cares about me. It may be that he was just tired of doing my work but I know different. Ron called me Thursday evening and offered to bring over this homeopathic blend of apple cider vinegar, garlic, garlic juice, a couple kinds of tree bark extracts and some other herbs I can't remember called Anti-PLG, also known as Anti-Plague. I would link to it because you can apparently purchase it but there does not appear to be a single manufacturer. You can find several recipes on the web to mix your own, including one that instructs you to begin the mixture at the next full moon.

Damned if this stuff didn't kick the ass of whatever it is I have. By late Friday morning the fever had all but broken and my head no longer felt like my brains were going to explode out the top.

By now, my mind has taken circumstantial coincidence and come up with 2+2=5 for substantially large values of two. Because this thing kicked off shortly after taking my latest dose of a new medicine (the anti-convulsant), I stopped taking it in the paranoid and probably irrational thought that it somehow allowed me to get sick... this will become important later.

Now let's get back to where the story began... Sleep did not come for me until almost one o'clock in the morning on Saturday morning. Because of the congestion from the cold/flu/sinus infection, the soreness from coughing and fatigue of clearing up some last minute errands, I could not get comfortable enough to sleep.

Our flight on Saturday is scheduled to leave the Tulsa airport (a little over an hour away) at 6:05am. We have decided to get up at 3am. By 12:30am, I'm getting a little frustrated that sleep will not come.

I realized most of my discomfort was from the sore muscles. I began to wonder where my menthol sports rub might be hiding when I come to a realization: Medicinal chest rubs are menthol-based. I KNOW where the chest rub is. To my delight, slathering my lower rib cage with chest rub relaxes everything enough to get me a couple of hours of sleep.

We made our flight in time... just and I commented to Shelly that the flight was not entirely unpleasant, considering that I had a "sinus infection". It was shortly after making this comment that I realized that the problems usually appear during descent. I had some trouble with a feeling that someone was trying to poke holes in my ears with an ice pick but it was tollerable.

The second leg of the flight was the real problem. I think I got a feel for just how bad Trigeminal Neuralgia can be.

During our descent into Reagan National airport, I got a sudden, searing, burning pain in the space between the top of my left eye and my brow ridge. On a pain scale of 1 to 10, this was a 15. I have never felt anything so sudden, intense or excruciating. I would seriously have gladly dug my left eye out of its socket with my bare hands if I thought it would have helped. I could do nothing to stop it. If I rubbed it, it would abate for about a second, then the rubbing would fuel the fire. The best I could do was hold my hand over my eye and cry, writhing in pain. It lasted less than a minute but it didn't matter. I spent the rest of the descent fearing that it would happen again.

Not knowing enough about the disorder or the nerve itself, I cannot tell you if this was a Trigeminal Neuralgia episode but I imagine it was based on the "most painful afliction known to modern medicine" description.

It's getting late and I'm very tired. You'll understand more why when I explain to you about:
Taking a picture of the airport... the outside of the airport
Getting to the hotel - a lucky break
Checking into the hotel (this was a good point)
Eating a Krabby Patty
Special deliveries
Our trip to Pentagon City shopping center
The power of cheese
What, no crackers?
Camomille tea
Who the hell closes a mall at 6pm?
No soup (supper) for you! - At least, not without a 19% service charge, $2 delivery charge and tip
Late-night hot chocolate

And keep in mind, we didn't land until almost noon.

Life lessons from a pickup truck

For the first time in my life, I own a pickup truck. When I bought my truck, I didn't go half way. I bought a full-size, extended-cab, long-bed Chevrolet pickup with a 290-some horsepower 5.3 liter V8 engine.

Anyone who has ever owned a pickup or even driven one for any length of time will understand what I'm about to say. For the uninitiated, I'll explain.

Most, if not all, pickup trucks are rear wheel drive. By design, all pickup trucks have little or no weight in the back - unless, of course, you're hauling something. This creates some interesting physics issues, especially when it's raining or the streets are otherwise slick.

It was raining this morning as I drove to work and, as I often do, I spun the back tires as I began to move after the light turned green. I have never owned a vehicle with a V8 and this one, as explained above, has a learning curve.

As I continued my drive to work and my efforts to keep my rear wheels moving me forward, I realized a pickup truck could teach us all at least two valuable life lessons.

Even when the street is not slick from water or ice, you can easily spin the tires if you give the engine too much power when starting from a stop. (I did it when I test-drove the truck.) In addition, even if you start without laying some rubber, you have to finesse the truck up to speed before you gun it. If not, you run the risk of spinning the tires again.

So, here is what I learned.

1. Just because you have power, doesn't mean you have to, or even can, use it.

2. When you have power, know when and how to use it effectively.

Do we really hate the French that much?

Here's something I don't get... French dressing. Not fashion styles, I'm talking about salad dressing. Why don't I get French dressing? Because there's at least three different kinds of salad dressing you can call French dressing. There's red French, orange French and Catalina style.

With this identity crisis firmly in place in American society, you never know quite exactly what you're going to get when you order French dressing on your salad. Some people ask - "Is it red French or orange French?"

There is no other salad dressing for which this is necessary!!

Ranch dressing is always white and you never see anyone asking if the thousand island has only 750 islands.

I suppose this confusion is why it is now near impossible to get French dressing on a salad from a restaurant. Either that or the restaurant industry was really pissed about that deck of cards thing.

I'm so confused

It's 3am and I hurt. The once-a-day anti-inflamatory obviously wore off after 12 hours.

I decided to see if I could find information on temporary relief, such as heat or cold, to use while waiting for the Tylenol I took 20 minutes ago to kick in (it still hasn't). Now I'm confused. I wonder if maybe I didn't describe the pain correctly or if maybe this isn't the right diagnosis.

Everything I am reading says TN is an excruciating pain that is often described as like an electric shock. If that's true, someone is holding the electrode against my nerve. I have a constant, intense pain. It doesn't throb and it doesn't feel all wiggly like an electrical impulse.

Of course, I've seen one posting where someone described it as a constant pain - which mine is if some sort of pain reliever or NSAID is not in effect. It seems hard to pin down because one site says "One typical feature of TN is that it is rarely typical. For many TN patients, the condition does not conform to the symptoms of 'classic' TN."

Funny thing is, I wouldn't describe this as facial pain... I'd describe it as jaw pain. It feels like someone has a vice wrapped around my teeth. I originally thought it was sinus pain because during past experiences with sinus infections I often have tooth pain (although not as intense).

I'll have to see how the anti-convulsant works, if at all. The pharmacy was out and I have to go pick it up this afternoon.

Okay - it's 15 minutes later and the single Tylenol hasn't kicked in... time for a second.

OUCH!!!!

After fighting a couple more days with the pain, I finally went to my family doctor. From what I could feel, I couldn't decide if the tooth was irritating my sinuses or the other way around. After examining me, he surmised the pain was due to Trigeminal Neuralgia. According to the site linked by the words in the previous sentence, TN "is universally considered to be the most painful affliction known to medical practice."

According to another site, TN can be caused by "Physical damage to the nerve caused by dental or surgical procedures, injury to the face or infections." Sounds about right. I think the dentist struck a nerve.

The Dr. has put me on an extended relief anti-inflamatory, an anti-viral agent, and an anti-convulsive. That should do it. I should be able to return to work tomorrow and, hopefully, have some semblance of a normal day.

From what I've seen on the web, TN is rare but it appears to be chronic. I only hope I'm in it for the short-haul due to trauma and my Trgeminal nerve will settle down in short order.

Veterans, I salute you!

Let me start by saying thank you to all of those in the military that make it possible for me to live where I live and for me to be able to choose to do what I choose to do, etc.

God, Bless America!

I'd also like to say Happy Birthday to my best bud Bill. What are you now, 50, 60? :-)
(I know you'll get me back somehow)

While we're handing out Kudos, I'd like to take this opportunity to tell everyone I can think of what they really mean to me...

Dad - You're awesome. I can't imagine growing up without your guidance and your love. The Colorado trip was unforgettable.

Mom - You're the tops. I know you kept this family going while we were growing up and you still do. I don't know how you manage but I'm glad you do. I can only hope to come close to following your example.

Bill - You've been with me through so much. I glad to know you're there even if I don't always show it.

Steve Raulie - Dude, you're a rock. Dependable to the core. I hope I can someday repay all that you've given me.

Estee - I've always fared better and walked a straighter line with someone looking after me. Thank you for all of the prayers. God bless you.

Eric - We click on so many levels and yet we're very different. The funny thing is I know we could be seperated for years and it would be like we just saw each other yesterday when our paths meet again. Your friendship means a lot to me.

Dan - I've already told you this but I respect you. I respect you a lot. You have so much to teach and I have so much to learn. Thank you for your wisdom and your willingness to lead.

Ron - I am humbled that you consider me your right-hand man. It means a lot to mean that much to someone. I'd walk through fire for you and follow you to the ends of the Earth.

Mary - Thanks for being a big sister and watching out for me.

To all of you on which I can depend, especially my family, remember there is nothing that together we cannot face.

The drill of dental work, the agony of the teeth

Oh, thank God! Just as I started typing this, the hydrocodone started kicking in. My tooth is feeling much better already... But you'll forgive me if I go astray.

On Thursday I had a temporary crown put on one of my molars. While he was working, the dentist told me he was very close to the nerve and I may have trouble with it.

Friday morning, I was in his office asking if the pain was normal. He wasn't in yet so I discussed it with him about an hour later when he called me. We decided it could be post-procedure irritation. He called in a couple of prescriptions and told me to keep an eye on it. I was taking two Tylenol about every 3 hours.

Saturday came and the three hours stretched into 6-8 hours. Things were getting better. Maybe it was just irritation.

By Sunday evening, I filled the prescriptions. I started taking the antibiotic and the hydrocodone. At 4am Monday, I decided I wasn't going to make it into work. At 8am Monday, I called his office and set an appointment for the afternoon. I hung up the phone, took another antibiotic and painkiller, then went to sleep.

Just before my appointment, I took regular Tylenol and another antibiotic and had lunch. The Dr. tapped and prodded the tooth a bit but, since I didn't jump out of the chair using my butt muscles, he didn't do anything at that point.

He told me to stop taking the antibiotic. Sensing my confusion, he explained, with the help of some handy dental graphics, that the antibiotic would clear up the infection at the base (prongs) of the tooth, giving relief, but wouldn't be able to reach the source of the problem.

Unfortunately, my 2am pain is speaking two words to me... Root canal.

ouch.

Can you believe it!?

I was reading the October 24 issue of Entertainment Weekly and found something interesting in a sidebar titled “Curses!” It said “On Oct. 3, the FCC had ruled that U2’s Bono didn’t violate federal indecency standards when he blurted ‘f---ing brilliant’ during the live NBC broadcast of January’s Golden Globes…”

How on earth do you get away with that!!??

Well, apparently, the F-word really is quite versatile* because the FCC said Bono wasn’t describing “sexual or excretory organs or activities.”

[*CAUTION: the link above contains explicit language]

Based on that ruling, I’ve made the following table – as a public service – to show you some of the phrases you may now begin hearing on television.

Stuff you might hear	Stuff you won't hear
I don't f---ing believe it.	F--- you!
That was f---ing stupid	So, you wanna f---?
	Go f--- yourself

The phrase “f--- this“ would probably still be open to interpretation.

Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most.

I began thinking the other day, a proposition dangerous in and of itself, about things that used to be. At one point I wrote about things that didn’t used to be, like the compact disc player and the IBM PC, and I started thinking of all of those things that I grew up with that no longer exist… here is a list of some of those.

The first thing that came to mind was Styrofoam fast food containers. Whenever you went to your local burger joint, the hamburger came to you in a Styrofoam container similar to those you currently receive as a to-go box at a sit-down restaurant. The irony of that last statement is that the burger containers were done away with for ecological reasons. The containers were filling up landfills (we called ‘em trash dumps when I was growing up) and someone figured out they take hundreds of years to decompose. Under public pressure, the major chains eventually started using more Earth-friendly materials.

Why I miss them: Styrofoam burger containers are the perfect container in which to dump an order of French fries with ketchup on the side. It was the ideal serving container. Your burger rested comfortably in the bottom portion and, once the container was opened, the fries could be contained in the top portion. The beauty of the container was that you could put your ketchup in a corner of the container and the foam wouldn’t absorb any of it. You could savor every drop that came out of the little packet (that you didn’t even have to ask for – they just gave it to you).

Speaking of French fries, I really miss the fries that McDonald’s used to make. These were the pinnacle of French fries: Always golden brown, always crispy and always salted. According to some sources their crispiness was achieved by soaking the potatoes in a sugar water solution prior to freezing them for shipment to the restaurants. Of course, the increase in health consciousness got rid of the sugar and the salt – but left the fat from frying, go fig.

Side note while we’re on the subject of French fries: Why is it that when you ask for ketchup and salt you get ten packages of salt and two packages of ketchup for super-size fries?

Next on the list is trading card bubble gum. Back in the day when trading cards were just that – not part of a game – you used to get a plank of bubble gum with every pack of cards. The gum was about as thick as a standard piece of chewing gum, about twice as wide, and about a third longer. This stuff was specially formulated, or aged, perhaps, so that it wouldn’t melt, soften or bend during shipment. It was pink, like bubble gum should be, but was coated in a powdery substance, that we always assumed was sugar, that kept it dry which kept it from sticking to the cards. I don’t know how, or why, we ever chewed this stuff but it was pretty much the second most exciting part of getting a pack of trading cards – the first was finding a rare card.

I also remember soda can pull tabs. These things were a lawsuit waiting to happen. These days, you pop the tab and it pushes a section of the top into the can. The whole thing stays intact. Back in the day, pulling the tab released the pressure by creating a small opening at the apex of a teardrop-shaped section of the top. In order to open the can, you had to pull the ring and physically separate the teardrop-shaped tab from the can. The drawbacks? First, the tabs were sharp – not a good thing in the hands of a child. What ultimately took them off the market were the beer-swilling idiots who would pop the top then drop it into the can prior to consuming the liquid. Often enough, these Darwin award candidates would swallow the tab and choke to death.

While we’re talking about beer, does anyone remember Billy beer? Somehow Billy Carter, the brother of former President Jimmy Carter, started marketing his own brand of beer. The only reason anyone paid attention was because he was the brother of the President. From what I understand, the beer wasn’t that good and the only people who supported Billy’s efforts were beer can collectors, who knew billy beer was just a flash in the pan, and those that couldn’t afford cheap beer.

The idea of cheap beer leads me into thinking about generic products. Generic products were like off-brand or store-brand products in that they were less expensive but they went far beyond that. From beer to cigarettes to canned goods, generic products were labeled with white labels with nothing more than the product name (i.e. “beer” or “green beans”) and a UPC symbol.

Here’s the rest of the list:

Audio pagers - These little gems work on the same principle as modern pagers. A radio signal reaches them and they beep. Of course, this was before the advent of LCD technology (odd that I’m talking about this while working on a laptop… which uses an LCD for the display). Instead of displaying a number or text message (there was nothing on which to display a number or message), the caller would talk and the audio message would be transmitted to the pager. This could be disconcerting, especially if you’re concentrating intensely on something when they go off.

Let me set the scene for you. It’s Halloween. I’m home by myself. Unbeknownst to me, my mother has left her pager on the charging stand with the power on. I found a horror movie on cable and decided to really get into it by turning out all of the lights and moving a chair in direct line with the television. I’m about an hour and a half into the movie (Halloween, I think it was) – right as a major plot point is occurring. The killer is on the loose, several people have already died, the phones are out of order, the lights have been smashed except for one or two that cling to life giving off flickers and sparks. I lean forward in my chair, inching forward, caught up in the intensity of the movie.

Have you ever seen that cartoon where the mouse sneaks up behind the cat, blows up a paper bag and pops it? Do you remember what happens to the cat?

I lean forward in my chair, inching forward, caught up in the intensity of the movie...

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

I became the cat.

I finally relaxed enough to come off the ceiling when the voice came over the pager asking my mother to call the lab… It was a good thing I had just gone to the bathroom.

Penny candy – That’s right, kids. You could buy candy for a penny a piece. Mostly it was bubble gum, usually out of a gumball machine but sometimes from the counter in bulk but they were a penny each. This, to a child, was the reason pennies were made. The value of a dollar was 100 pieces of gum.

Dick & Jane books – For millions of American children, this is how we learned to read. They were simple stories of Dick, Jane and their dog, Spot. See Dick. See Jane. See Dick and Jane. See Spot. See Spot chew on Dick’s shoe… Bad Spot. No biscuit.

Tab – These days you have diet Pepsi, diet Coke, diet Dr. Pepper, diet Sprite, diet root beer, and even diet Shasta. Before all of these choices you had… Tab. Tab was it. If you wanted a sugar free cola, you drank Tab. And God saw that it was Tab and said that it was Tab and it was AWFUL!

On the flip side, there was Jolt cola. In the early/mid eighties, before the health nuts decided that caffeine and sugar were really bad things, someone came up with a cola for the college student in all of us. Jolt cola was advertised as having all of the sugar and twice the caffeine as regular cola. A six-pack of this stuff could give a comatose person the jitters. [side note: while putting together the links for this entry I discovered Jolt is still around.]

Stretch Armstrong – Stretch Armstrong was a… I hesitate to say doll… he was a toy that looked like a bodybuilder. The hook was that he was made of rubber and filled with some sort of gel and he stretched. He stretched a long way. He would eventually, as many a young male child discovered, break.

Tonka trucks made of metal – Yes, you heard me right, Tonka trucks used to be made of metal. Good, old-fashioned, American sheet metal. There were no safety concerns that caused the change to heavy plastic. It was a simple decision of economics. I used to have a very large Tonka dump truck that I used to ride down our driveway. I eventually sold it in a garage sale and either some kid is still playing with it or it’s been added to a collection.

8-track tapes – Thank God these are extinct. Although, 8-tracks are responsible for auto-reverse technology in cassette decks. The width of the tape was divided into four sections of two tracks (left and right) each. Each alternating section was recorded in reverse of the previous. You could change sections but there was no fast-forward or rewind.

Finally, there’s canned motor oil. Oil didn’t always come packaged in a convenient, re-sealable, easy-pour plastic bottle. It used to be packaged in a round can made of coated paper with a metal top and base. You could use a standard can opener – the pointy kind that punches a hole, not the kind that cuts the top off - (which is becoming an extinct product in and of itself) but that tended to be very messy when trying to pour. To make it easier to pour, you could buy an oil spout. These were metal spouts, about 6-8 inches long, that had a pointy bit on the back end that you would slam into the top of the can to open it.

Trust me, the plastic ones are much easier.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this trip down memory lane, or history lesson depending on your perspective. Stay tuned because you never know when another bizarre idea will hit me.

It's been one week since you looked at me

Okay, so I'm still on the musical theme.

[Side note: Those of you playing at home will notice that certain entries will start to fill in between this one and the entry from 10 days ago. I wrote all of the fishing trip entries while in Colorado and I'm posting them with altered dates and times to make it look like I posted them when I wrote them.]

Today is the last day of the first week of work after spending a week not working.
"...love a wealthy woman and the pretty plane she flies. If you think this sounds confusing you should see it through my eyes." -- Jimmy Buffett

Today is also Halloween --- BOO!!

The week went alright but I'm drowning in trouble tickets. I have one ticket I can knock out in about five minutes but it arrived late in the day while I was already involved in something else. I have two or three that await a response from the caller. The other five or so are waiting for someone else to do something. I was promised that I would be taken care of today but it didn't happen.

I don't blame the people that I need help from. They're GREAT people!! My relationship with them is pretty much "ask and ye shall receive." The problem is that their supervisors and directors have them so tied up with so many facets of so many projects that they have no time to do their work. I actually got a response from one of them a couple of weeks ago that was time-stamped MIDNIGHT!! That's just wrong - these guys have families.

I was assured that the biggest part of the biggest project is over and they'll have more time to devote to the day-to-day operations. I certainly hope so or we're going to have some pretty pissed-off clients... some of them are there already.

====================================

The weather is starting to cool off a bit here in Oklahoma. My asthma is starting to remind me that it's there (it's aggravated by cold --- and priming without a mask last summer wasn't helpful, either) but I think I may have the beginnings of bronchitis. I've been getting into some heavy coughing fits and that whole tight chest thing.

Geez, I feel like a little old man that can't help but complain about everything.

[read the following with a raspy old man voice playing in your head]
Oy, I tell ya, I hate the cold. My asthma is starting to bother me - it's so hard to breathe.
And work! Don' get me started about work! I start out da day with ten tings on my list, get them all done, and finish the day with eleven. It never ends. ... Dat place is gonna be da death of me.

My goodness, when did I turn jewish!!??

For those of you in the studio audience, it's late and our host is beginning to ramble. Let's see if we can give him the universal hang signal for "Where the hell are you going with this? Can we get back on track, here? The sponsors are starting to call."

Where was I? Oh, yeah, the weather is starting to get colder. Despite my little-old-jewish-man tirade up there, I like the cold. First of all, I sweat... A LOT. The cold is my time to be unsweaty.

[blech! Can you believe he's talking about that? Move on!]

SUBJECT CHANGE!!!!!

I came home from my fishing trip to find the lot between our house and our neighbor had been leveled. The grass I used to mow to keep the lot looking presentable was now a smoothed out section of dirt. According to my wife, this happened last Saturday. Both of us figured they were going to list the lot with the promise of a custom home. With the weather turning colder and precipitation chances (do you like how I worked that in there?) increasing, we figured they wouldn't be able to pour the concrete, etc.

When we came home from work on Monday night, we discovered we had it wrong. On the lot there was a roughly house-shaped trench dug about 3-feet down into the lot and it had re-bar standing in it. Oh, so... I guess they are building a house. Today, they poured concrete into the trench. I had this irresistable urge to sign my name in the obviously still-wet cement... but I didn't.

I'll keep you posted on the progress.

Upcoming events include the Bedlam football game (between OKLAHOMA STATE UNIVERSITY!! and the university of oklahoma) tomorrow at 2:30pm, a salute to Rogers and Hamerstein by the Lyric Theater Saturday night, and having a crown put on one of my teeth (that starts Thursday).

Be sure to join our intrepid (what does that mean, anyway?) hero next time... same BAT time, same BAT channel!