Small Adventures

Holiiday Fuun

2008-12-26T11:26:00.003-06:00

The big mistake of my Christmas season was giving my parents a Wii and Wii Fit system as a gift. The error was not in judging whether they would like it -- they do. It was in failing to figure out that I like it, too!

I shot some 100 photos during the Christmas activities, some using the new flash that Santa brought me. If you shoot photos & say to yourself, "I am awful at flash photography," buy yourself a real flash, and you will quickly find out that good equipment makes a huge difference. I'd share some photos with you, but I stuck my camera's big photo card into dad's new digital photo frame (a gift from the unnamed male relative & his beautiful wife) to see how it would work, and I forgot to take it out when I left last night. Ugh!

Anyway, what I really wanted to share was some funny and probably embarrassing photos of us using the Wii. Probably best that I don't have them, heh.

I was the guinea pig for the bowling & golf activities (which are fun but just as frustrating as the real thing!), so dad, the athlete of the family, agreed to be the Wii Fit guinea pig. One of the measurements it uses in determining your "Wii Fit age" is your Body Mass Index.

Unfortunately, the Wii calculates BMI from your height and weight: weight/height squared. There are problems with this calculation. The main one is that it doesn't actually consider your body mass. So, dad who does exercise & yoga two days a week and plays golf more than any reasonable person should (heh), somehow had a higher BMI than mom & I who lead rather more (ahem) sedentary lifestyles and are rather more ... curvaceous.

In addition, some of the games & goals are different from dad's exercise experience. He's working on having good breathing & yoga form, but the game wants him to worry more about whether he is standing up straight. So mom & I, who could care less about breathing, played the Wii game nearly as well as dad, the actual yoga practitioner.

Similarly, Wii bowling & golf are not good analogs to real bowling & golf; you have to figure out what the game wants, not do what you usually do in real life. Thus, I think dad was a little frustrated with his Wii experience, whereas mom & I had tons of fun.

I just ordered my own. I don't think I want to drive across town every time I need a ski jumping or step aerobics 'fix'. But I need one *right now* so I guess I will get in the car. I need to pick up my camera card, anyway.

Pink Lids & Akoha

2008-12-23T21:02:00.004-06:00

We pause our adventures for a small public service announcement....

If you eat Yoplait yogurt & have pink lids, Yoplait will donate 10 cents to Susan G. Komen for the Cure for each lid received by 12/31/2008 at:

Save Lids to Save Lives®
P.O. Box 420704
El Paso, TX 88542-0704

If you write on the back of the envelope "Team #114686," the Akoha Wild Ones team will get 'credit' for participating. You may also join the team at the Yoplait site &/or share Akoha missions with me!

For those not already familiar with the idea of Akoha, it's a social "game" whose object is to gather karma points by... well... being nice. The game starts with a deck of cards, featuring "missions" like "Invite someone for coffee," and "Make someone smile."

The idea is to perform the action on the card, which increases the happiness in one person's life, then give that person the card & ask them to log onto Akoha, type some meaningful message about how much they enjoyed having this mission "played" on them. They then, hopefully, will be eager to "play it forward," making a great chain of happy people.

You can then track your "mission" as it makes its way around the world, hopefully passing from one happy person to another. It's a little like a Where's George based on kindness rather than cash.

Based on my experience with Where's George, I don't hope that my missions will hop around all that much. According to Where's George stats, I have entered 189 bills, and only 14 people have ever jumped online to report finding them. Perhaps when I am handing someone a mission card, having just done something nice, they will be more amenable to reporting their pleasure & joining the game.

In the great scheme of things, the idea of Akoha is that it encourages people to do nice things for others and increase overall world happiness by some small token, or even larger tokens, depending on the mission. It's irrelevant that the recipient does or does not respond online -- but it would make the game more fun.

(By the way, Akoha is in closed beta, but if someone performs a mission on you -- and some of them can be played via e-mail -- then you can get into the beta as well. If you send me an e-mail, a Facebook message or or a direct Tweet saying you'd like to play, I'll work to share a mission with you, so you can Play it Forward!)

Snow!!

2008-12-11T20:18:00.007-06:00

This photo shows what passes for "snow" in Houston. The little dusting barely registered on the snow-meters, but it certainly caused havoc on the roads.

The flurries started in earnest around 3:30 yesterday, or at least that's when the gal from the neighboring office ran into mine and said, "It's SNOWING!" I thought it was a joke, of course, but when I turned it looked like a scene out of White Christmas -- well, if you squinted real hard it did, anyway.

Nothing really "stuck" until late in the evening, and even then, as you can see from these pix, we didn't have much sticking. As far as the dog is concerned, it was nothing more than thick rain, spoiling her ability to play catch -- because *someone* said it was too cold & wet to play outside.

Although it was cold as snakes this morning, the snow was all gone from the roads when it was time to drive to work. That's *my* kind of snow.

Failure is not an option

2008-11-19T18:52:00.010-06:00

This cartoon by Hugh MacLeod smacked me on the nose when I saw it on his blog last week.

I'm a big fan of Hugh, especially his ideas about "How to Be Creative" and "Social Objects as the Future of Marketing." But this cartoon hit a nerve.

A lifetime ago, I had just started working for a magazine in the photonics industry. I was a skilled journalist and had an abiding interest in science and technology but my month or two reading & writing about photonics hardly made me an 'expert.' And yet, that's what journalists have to be, in essence: Instant experts on whatever topic they're assigned in any given day, and a different topic every day. That's what drove me into journalism when dad wanted me to go on to law school. How cool is a job where you get to keep learning every day of your career?

Burned out in the newspaper business after a few too many of those obligatory calls to the family of the kid who was killed by the drunken driver, I went into technology journalism, where I'd always hoped to end up. So I was two months into a very technical new area of expertise when a contributed article fell through -- a week before the print deadline.

Every trade magazine editor in the world knows the sickening feeling that comes from staring at three to five empty pages of text with no way to fill it. And thus, the Senior Editor called a quick hallway meeting to announce The Big Problem. Not understanding the panic, I offered a solution: "Why don't I just write something to fill the space?"

My exuberance was borne of 10 years in the daily newspaper business, whereas my colleagues' pessimistic frowns were products of life in the monthly magazine world. To me, five empty pages meant 10 phone calls to technical experts, a couple of days of typing, and a quick editorial review. As doubtful as my colleagues were, they saw no other options.

And yet, the publisher had to voice one last pessimistic query: "But what if you fail?"

(With my 20/20 hindsight, I know this moment was the initial salvo from the energy vampire I would battle for most of the next seven years.)

"I won't fail," I said, shrugging. "And if I do -- which I won't -- you'll be no worse off than you are right now, with five pages of house ads to make up for the missing article."

There's a scary place between your comfort zone & failure. You know that place -- it's right there where you doubt your success. In that place, a wall pops up, and on the wall is a sign: "You are too stupid to do this." This is where some people fail, and learn that even if people laugh at their failure, they will live through it. And maybe they also "learn" that they are stupid. "Oh, I'm not good at math." "Oh, I just can't draw." "Oh I tried that and I failed, so I don't do it anymore." But other people knock the damn sign down and find some crazy way to get over/under/around/past that wall. And maybe we are never the very best in the world at that one thing, but we do just fine, thanks.

And so I didn't fail. I called the experts, I did my interviews, I wrenched my brain into a knot until I understood what they told me about ultraviolet detectors, and if one expert wasn't available, I called another one. Because it never occurs to me that failure might be an option.

Today, more than 10 years after that impromptu hallway meeting, I printed out Hugh's cartoon and hung it on my wall at the Much Better Place where I work now. But I scribbled a quote from a favorite movie next to the guy on the left. It says, "Laugh while you can, monkey boy."

Helicopter Dunking

2008-11-11T19:56:00.003-06:00

This week's work adventure has been getting certifications so I can go offshore to shoot & observe my employer's technology "in action."

I have some thoughts on what made this training particularly successful -- hint: the instructor was passionate about safety & teaching! However, I'm only going to write the *story* tonight because my sinus cavity is killing me after today's little activity.

Today's class was Water Survival, including Helicopter Underwater Egress Training (HUET). Morning was mostly in the classroom, and afternoon in the pool learning various water survival techniques. The highlight, of course, is the helicopter dunking. I did not shoot any video or stills of my own class but here's a video that captures the concept.

Basically, you strap yourself into this simulated helicopter body, which the trainers then dump into the pool and flip on its head. This results in massive amounts of chlorine up your nose, no matter how well you try to blow out your nostrils. You then have to pop a window, release your seatbelt and pull yourself out of the thing.

My class comprised 14 people -- me & 13 guys (surprise, right?) They loaded two victims at a time in the simulator for five dunks in various configurations: with windows, without; straight down or rolled over; 'easy' window or 'hard'.

Naturally I was in the very last pair of the day. As the second-to-last group was finishing its third dunk, we could hear thunder outside the metal building that housed the pool. (It had been raining all day). I joked that this was a good thing because it helped add some realism: Clearly the storm was the reason why our helicopter was ditching into the Gulf.

Picking a window

My partner asked if I had a preference as to which window I'd like to start on. To remove the "hard" window, you had to push hard in just the right place (upper left corner near your left shoulder), and it would pop out. To remove the "easy" window, you flipped open a latch right next to your right hip & then it fell out with a little tap. We'd be doing four practice dunks on one window and one 'final' dunk (sort of a final practical exam) on the other window. My completely logical choice was to take the 'hard' window for my four learning dunks and the 'easy' window for my final exam, rather than risk an embarrassing 'redo' dunk on the final.

However, when I headed for the seat next to the "hard" window, the instructor pointed at the other seat and said, "I think you should take this seat. " Ugh. If he had added "little lady," it would not have been more condescending. Anyway, I declined. He then said, with a little frown, "I strongly encourage you to take this seat." I thanked him for his encouragement but buckled myself into the other one.

The first dunk had us popping the windows out on surface, followed by a straight drop into the pool. OK, it did take some OOMPH to pop that window out, but escaping through the open window was a no-brainer.

Delays

The second dunk left the windows in for a full straight dunk. So we had to pop the windows under water, then open our seatbelts & get out. OK, it still took some OOMPH to get that window out, but ultimately it was no problem. Unfortunately, my partner couldn't get the 'easy' window open & had to be 'rescued' so he could try it again. "It's not easy to find the latch," he complained. The instructor responded, "No, not if you are trying to find it with your eyes...."

After my partner completed his redo, we were loaded and strapped in for the third dunk -- but we were unloaded quickly after the crane operator saw lightning and said, "Everybody out of the pool." We stood, shivering in our soaking wet coveralls for about 15 minutes while the front moved through. Again, I couldn't help but laugh at the idea of having a good reason for the helicopter to ditch.

After the lightning abated, we got to the third dunk: windows out and helicopter inverted (rolling over). This was the first taste of what had made everyone else in our group come up coughing & gasping. It's disorienting, yes, but more significantly, the water is violently turbulent, like having someone aim a firehose up in your face. Even with great suggestions from a more experienced classmate about how to avoid it, I got one very uncomfortable, very chlorinated snoutful of water. Didn't stop me from getting out, but it left me (and my partner) sputtering a bit.

Dunk #4 was the pre-final: Windows in, dunk & roll, pop window, release seatbelt, get out. OK, no problem, but more chlorine up my nose. My partner also made it.

Final exam

For dunk #5, we switched sides. This put me on the right side of the helicopter, opening the 'easy' window latch with my right hand. Piece of cake, right? Right. Let's go!

Splash! Nice big breath. Simulator stops rolling, reach over to the easy window and grab the easy little latch. The ... um... latch. Hello? Where the hell is the damn latch? Woah, no panic, you have plenty of time & breath here. Stop. Relax. Remember the trainer's words: Don't try to use your eyes. Put my hand back on my hip, flip it over, there's the latch. Dang, my thumb just barely fits in that little space. Pull the latch, tap the window. Use the same hand to reach for the seatbelt. Oh no, you don't; your outside (right) hand goes on the fusilage to re-orient yourself to "out". Inside (left) hand pulls the seatbelt latch. Pull myself out, snort to the surface. Success!! No re-run!

I remembered only later that of the 14 people in the class, three had to redo at least one dunk -- all on the 'easy' side. That latch is a booger.

Anyway, I'm now certified for SafeGulf, HUET & water survival. Yippee!!

New rules for debates

2008-10-07T21:35:00.003-05:00

While twittering the 'town hall debate' and watching on CNN, I came up with two new important rules for political debates.

Rule #1: Answers are limited, Twitter-style, to 140 characters. If you need more than that, then you can blog it later.

Rule #2: If you do not answer a question, you don't get to answer the next one(s). So if someone asks, "If Iran attacks Israel, will you smack them back?" and you answer, "I don't think Iran should get to have nuclear weapons," you get a zero in the answering column, and you don't get to answer the next question, or any other question, until you make up your freakin' mind. (I'm sure McCain had a couple of those, too, and it just annoys the hell out of me.) As above, if you change your mind later, that's what your blog is for.

Two simple rules. And ok, I admit that asking John McCain to type on an iPhone while sitting on stage is probably a bad idea (although the mental image makes me laugh). However, the second one is absolutely critical to actually making decisions about which of these people will get my vote.

I kept thinking tonight, about the debate as a job interview. Pretend, for a minute, that you are hiring one of these guys (which you are...). And one of them, instead of answering your questions, points out all the mistakes that the other guy has made over the last 10 years. The other one, instead of answering your questions, brilliantly discourses on whatever the hell he wants to talk about. Which one do you hire?

Me: Tell me about the most stressful work situation you've ever been in, and how you dealt with it.

Candidate #1: Thank you for the question, my friend. Really. I deal with stress just fine. But That One, he once had a hissy fit at the coffee machine because there were no filters -- a little thing, I voted against buying more filters because being a real reformer, I thought we could just use paper towels, because I thought filters were so elite and mainstream, you know? That One, my friend, he voted for filters, a special earmark, and he was very stressed out when they had not yet arrived in time to make his mokka lah-te-dah or whatever you young people call those things these days. (looks over in disgust at the other candidate, crosses arms)

Candidate #2: Thank you for asking. Fundamentally, I think my health plan is going to keep all of us from worrying about stress anymore, and tax cuts for those making less than $250,000 would certainly ease the burden of paying for those enormous mortgages that the Republicans foisted on the poor people of this country. (self-satisfied smile)

I hate it that I don't actually have a *good* choice in this election.

Letter to my Congressman

2008-10-06T18:22:00.004-05:00

To the Honorable Kevin Brady:

I'm just wondering what Congress is going to do for me, a person who paid cash for her last two cars (one every 10 years!), pays off her one credit card bill in full every month, and makes her mortgage payments on time so she can continue to live in the modest little house that is well within her means.

We are apparently going to use my tax money to bail out a lot of stupid, greedy people who bought more than they could reasonably afford, and who seem to think the world owes them a big screen TV, a couple of Wii's for the kids, and a new car every two years.

Then we're going to use more of my tax money to bail out the greedy, multimillion dollar businesses that extended credit to those other greedy stupid people and then gave themselves big, fat bonus checks so they could go buy million-dollar mansions in fine, gated communities (where, boo-hoo, they may now be having trouble making their payments, if there is a God.)

Meanwhile, the IRAs & 401(k) that I've been putting *my* money into for the last 25+ years have given up all of their value over the last few weeks because everybody is scrabbling to get some piece of whatever's left of the money in the world.

And instead of a big, fat mortgage that could have a principle reduction if I didn't pay my bills, I have a reasonably budget-able mortgage and a chunk of equity that may or may not be valuable when it's time to sell. I don't see anybody offering to reduce *my* mortgage principle as a prize for being *smart* and *sensible* when the real estate gal was trying to convince me that, "Well, sure, this is a nice place but you could afford so much more!"

I guess I am just annoyed that we are rewarding foolishness instead of taking care of the people who pay their taxes, put money into savings, pay cash and generally do things the *right* way. And I ask again, "What is Congress going to do for *me*?"

Sincerely,

Stephanie A. Weiss

The Woodlands

(sent originally via Write Your Rep, and I encourage you to write one, too)

P.S. I have already received two new credit card applications in the mail this week, which started today. This suggests to me that the credit market has not shut down, and if I were a Congressman, my first new Bill would raise the postage costs for credit card applications, with all the resulting revenue going toward paying off the unfortunate $700b nonsense that you people agreed to provide last week to keep the market from tumbling, which it did anyway. Nice work.

He's heeee-ere

2008-09-13T05:17:00.002-05:00

We're just getting the edge of Ike & he is already a huge pest.

The photo at right shows you the house right behind mine yesterday evening. YOu can just barely see the top of one of those white plastic lawn chairs on the left, then the "naked guy" near the door, and the screened tent. I think they may be out of town, although someone did come by & push over the naked guy at some point late yesterday, I did see a light on there at some point last night.

Below, you can see the view now. (Yes, it's a little dark and drippy, but it's only 5 am and the middle of a *hurricane* here.) What you see is the top of a tree that I think is just outside the view on the right of the "before" photo. At least I'm pretty sure it's not from the tree in the foreground of the dark photo.... It made an awfully loud noise about an hour ago and came down across the fence & -- i think -- the screened tent. I'm pretty sure something is holding that tent down so I don't have to worry about it coming through my windows. Not as sure about the rest of the stuff in their yard.....

We do still have power, but I don't expect it to last much longer. We are still an hour or two away from getting the worst of the storm, and it sounds pretty nasty. I should be able to keep Twittering & doing various other things from the iPhone, and recharge occasionally from the car..... Hope to stay connected to the world because, frankly, it's a little scary. Stuff just keeps banging onto the roof, the doors, the walls, the deck. And we aren't even in the bad part yet.

Covering Hurricanes

2008-09-12T19:11:00.003-05:00

The image on the right is Ike around 7 pm Friday. The red words on the green map say "Houston" and "Me." The arrow shows where Ike is heading. He will probably go just a little bit east of "Me." But you get the idea.

Bear with me as I reminisce a bit about the old days. The last major hurricane to smack Houston was a brat named Alicia, and she walloped the area in 1983, doing pretty much the same thing Ike is doing but with higher winds & less storm surge.

Hurricanes haven't changed much over the years, but the technology for reporting about hurricanes has changed remarkably. I was a Houston Chronicle reporter when Alicia came through, and oh yes, we blanketed the area and reported everything we could, but it was a simpler time, and a newspaper was a daily thing, not a minute-by-minute online information source.

Back then, if you needed to know what's happening now, you had your TV on, or, after the power went out, you turned your portable ratio to KTRH. [OK, some things have not changed; I bet most of us will *still* tun our portable radios to KTRH after the power goes out.]

Back then, when a tree fell on the power lines, it also fell on the phone lines. I can't remember when the Chronicle got its first satellite phone, but it was a monstrous military-looking gizmo that cost a small fortune for each call, so it was rarely used and we certainly did not have enough for each of the dozens of reporters scattered around the metropolitan area. There were no cell phones. No blackberries, no Twittering, no "live Ike webcams" (except TV news satellite trucks, of course), and no individual bloggers reporting on their own little microcosm of the world.

I was on "normal" duty for Alicia, so by the time the storm was up to strength, I was "off duty." But I couldn't go home because everything was pretty much shut down. I spent the night on the 5th floor of the Chronicle building, watching gravel fly off the roofs of the downtown high-rise buildings, breaking all their windows. The newsroom, at the time, was one large open space with enormous windows across one wall. Those windows bucked and bulged all night long, looking scary but ultimately doing their job.

When the storm had passed, I went to mom & dad's house in Memorial, where they had some trees down. I remember Allen Parkway was pretty well flooded but otherwise it was just a lot of branches everywhere.

Storms are different now. I can sit at home & watch people all over Houston taking about their hurricane preparations, what they see out their windows as the storm rolls by, what they see on TV. I can unplug my TV and still watch live coverage on TV stations' websites, or (gasp) on my iPhone if the power goes out. (This assumes I can still get a cell signal, not a foregone conclusion if the towers get smacked.)

It's a different world, when I can sit at my house & know that power is already out and some homes are already flooded in Clear Lake. I know power is flickering in midtown. I know things I never would have dreamed about knowing back in 1983. And somehow it's comforting to know all of this because it fills the void that might otherwise be filled with fear of the impending monster storm.

Why The Woodlands Cares About Hurricanes

2008-09-11T16:21:00.007-05:00

I've mentioned before that I am pretty far away from the coast, which means worrying about hurricanes is a bit silly. It would take one whopper of a storm to bring hurricane-force winds all the way up here.

But if they did get here, it would be pretty catastrophic: It's not called The Woodlands just cuz it's a pretty name. The photo on the right shows my house, sorta. What it shows more clearly is the reason I wanted to live there -- the enormous trees. There are six 100-foot pines in my front yard. (My ballpark estimate on the height). There are a bunch more in the neighbor's front yard. And more in my backyard.

It's a happy place for trees. Unlike typical suburbs, The Woodlands has historically required developers to plan out their subdivisions with minimum possible impact on the existing environment -- the big trees. And so we have these great neighborhoods full of greens and browns and the smell of pine after hurricanes.

Because hurricanes are not that great for tall pine trees. After Rita, when I lived in a townhouse with much less lush forest around, we had one tall pine go down in the neighborhood, not because of the wind but because of the combination of wind + wet. Because unfortunately, once the ground is wet the tree roots don't hold onto the ground so well, allowing the trees to topple.

That was the problem with Alicia in '93. My parents lived in Memorial (closer to Houston but on the west side) at the time and lost some big pine trees. It had rained a lot right before Alicia, and the trees just went "schloop" out of the mud when the wind hit 'em.

We don't expect that for Ike because it has been very dry for weeks here. But we probably will still have a lot of branches to clean up. The big hope is that none of them go through a window.

The big question remains as to where Ike will hit. The latest forecast moved him northeast a bit. 50 more miles northeast and The Woodlands will move from his "dirty side" with higher winds & more wet, to the "clean side," a veritable walk in the park as we had for Rita.

Crossing my fingers & hugging my trees.

As I write, dad is on his way over to help me bring the outdoor furniture inside. Such a good daddy!

Ike Looks to Mess Up a Weekend

2008-09-10T21:35:00.003-05:00

It appears Hurricane Ike is going to rampage across Southeast Texas this weekend.

I'm something like 65 miles inland from Galveston, but the latest update to the National Hurricane Center map (right) looks like Ike may come a lot closer than storms of recent memory. (Remember Rita?) If you look very closely at the map, you'll see a little reddish "x" just north of the 30-degree line and just a tad east of the hurricane path. That's approximately where I am.

Assuming there's anything to say, I'll blog here and/or microblog via Twitter as the cable connection + iPhone allow.

LOLcanes

2008-08-29T21:05:00.005-05:00

In the spirit of LOLcats, Dwight Silverman over at the Chronicle came up with LOLcanes a couple of weeks ago. In honor of Hurricane Gustav, Lakrids & I offer this one:

Eddie the Wimp

2008-08-05T16:16:00.003-05:00

Here you see Lakrids the Intrepid Storm Chaser, decidedly bored by the whole Edouard thing. It rained all day, but the predicted tropical storm-force winds never materialized. The storm also didn't seem to include any thunder/lightning, at least not in our neck of the woods. We had a scarier, more fierce storm last weekend in a normal quick Texas thundershower.

My impression from radar is that we've seen the worst of what we're going to get. So it was just a quiet, rainy day for us. Others lost power -- some 13,000 people supposedly are dealing with that annoyance right now. We've avoided that problem, unless they do as they did after Rita, and subject us to rolling blackouts for the next few days while they try to get the power grid back online. We'll see....

The good news: The backyard is very green & not a lake. All the work on the drainage did exactly what it was supposed to do -- yay!

Edouard comes to visit

2008-08-05T10:39:00.005-05:00

There's a tropical storm in the neighborhood, and apparently he is due to drop in with high winds & heavy rain sometime this afternoon.

The last hurricane to threaten the area was Rita, whom I wrote about back in 2005. This Edouard was headed directly for Houston but veered off in a somewhat Rita-like direction. He's heading a little more obliquely north, however, which should put tropical storm force winds right over The Woodlands sometime this afternoon.

For now, it's just raining with a few gusts. No thunder/lightning, even. Just a pleasant, cool, rainy Houston day. I brought in most of my outdoor furniture because of the threat of high winds. My neighbor behind, however, has left his screened-in tent out there. Could be interesting....

I'll update whenever it seems like there is something to say, assuming I still have Internet + power. When power is gone, I will still be able to Twitter from the iPhone. Thus far, I can still hear birds singing while they enjoy the much-needed shower. The birdback out back is almost full, and the fountain is not yet overflowing, so we haven't gotten more than a sprinkle here yet.

I have a real backyard!

2008-07-26T11:56:00.011-05:00

When I left home a few weeks ago for a business trip to Oklahoma, my backyard looked like this:

I was only gone a few days, but when I came home, I found that the landscaping elves had visited. So it looked like this!:

Another week or so later, more landscaping elves came to visit, so it looked like this:

And finally, it looks like this!:

After three weeks, the dog & I have not yet managed to kill the new, expensive shade-loving (AmeriShade) grass.... Hurricane Dolly did us a bit of a favor with a few rainshowers. At least for that little bit of rain, the landscaper's leveling and French drain prevented the usual lake from forming in the backyard.

I also posted pix without the story.

Photos & phlowers

2008-04-23T20:53:00.001-05:00

Pink Hibiscus Bits

When I bought my house two years ago, the yard included a number of climbing rose bushes, most of which have produced no or very few blooms and many feet of annoying, thorny, scraggly stems. I hate the things.

Saturday, mom & I went over to my favorite garden store, Arbor Gate, because it was nice out, and mom wanted to mess up her hair in the convertible. Among other little plants I snagged for the front yard, we found a couple of gorgeous hibiscus plants to replace the annoying, non-blooming, killer roses on either side of my garage.

After struggling to rip out the thorn bushes, I planted the new flowering bushes, which are covered with flower buds. (Dad came over on Sunday to single-handedly plant the annuals -- yay dad!)

Wednesday morning, I had my first hibiscus bloom, which I shot with the new camera. The uncropped version is here on Flickr, where I have been playing a lot lately.

I'll close with my other neat photo of the day, a work photo:

More eagles

2008-04-05T20:48:00.008-05:00

Here's dad (or mom?) eagle looking regally into the new 70-300mm lens from a tree near the Carlton Woods clubhouse.

The eagles were all in different trees today, but all looking over the lake on the 18th hole at the Carlton Woods Country Club. This one was mostly down near the south end of the lake (clubhouse/green) but s/he did a few fly-arounds (soaring photo below).

Rumor has it that Junior has been out of the nest on occasion, but he did not make any moves in that direction while we were out.

Although Junior was steadfastly boring, mom (dad?) seemed to be working on her tan, or acting as scarecrow, or just showing off her lovely feathers in a dead tree pretty far around the lake from where we were standing.

The new lens is great, but there is quite a learning curve for using it Among other things, I'm going to need a heavy-duty tripod. (sigh) Why does every new hobby quickly turn into a money pit?

Happy Family

2008-04-04T18:49:00.004-05:00

Just a couple of photos of the eagles who have taken up residence on the edge of the 18th hole at Carlton Woods Country Club.

We begin with mom & dad, who actually look like bald eagles, with all the proper adult feather coloring. They are sitting, regally, on a tree branch overlooking the lake where they occasionally fish for their own dinners & for Junior.

I was out on the golf course with my mom, and we agreed that the mom & dad birdies sort of look frazzled and weary. You get the impression, from watching them, that they are wondering, "How long before Junior starts catching his own dinners, or maybe moves out and gets a job?"

Junior is in the enormous nest, in the next tree over, looking like a bird but not much like an eagle. I'm told that they get the white head feathers as they age.

These are very cropped in (100%) images from my new camera, shot with a 40-150 zoom lens. I've also ordered a 70-300 zoom, which I hope will be here on Monday. So although mom & dad eagle are wishing Junior would fly the coop, I'm sort of hoping he waits one last weekend.

First shots

2008-04-01T22:12:00.003-05:00

First photo

Because I have the world's best UPS delivery person, I have a new camera today. You can see its handiwork here on the right, the very first (bad) photo I shot with the new Olympus E-510. I've never been very good at flash photograph, so you will have to excuse me. I do like the 'giant dog' shadow effect, though, heh.

The camera was waiting on my porch when I got home, so naturally I ran inside with it & started unpacking the stuff. As with most consumer electronics these days, the stupid battery was uncharged. So I have this cool new light-sensitive toy that I can't even use until after dark!! Aaaagh!

I thought it would be fun to shoot my completely no-tech Kodak Brownie box camera with this amazingly high-tech new camera. So while I was waiting for the stupid battery to charge up, I dug the Brownie out of the back of the closet, where it's been gathering dust for ages alongside my Nikon FG -- also an 'antique' now since I bought that back in 1982. I can't remember the last time I shot film. And that's important to the story because while I was poking around on the Brownie to look for some angle to shoot, I realized it has film in it!

I'm wondering when I might have gotten the silly idea of running out and buying film for the thing, and where I might have found size 120 film in this day & age. And where I could even get it developed. I'm sure it's dead past its expiration date by now, but it would be an awful lot of fun to find out what's on that film, if anything is left.

Meanwhile, please ignore the bad flash photography. I will try to learn how to do better. In fact, I have a lot to learn with this camera, because it is a spaceship compared to my point-and-clicks. Meanwhile, a trip to see the three eagles (mom, dad & baby) at Carlton Woods is in the plan for... tomorrow? I hope.

Trees and dirt

2008-03-30T13:48:00.004-05:00

Big Daddy

On the right, meet Big Daddy, the biggest tree in my tree-filled but otherwise ugly backyard. He's a big booger of a tree, 90 inches in circumference at the base. (Yeah, I just ran out & measured.)

Daddy & the other cool trees (left) are a primary reason I live where I do. When I was looking for a house, I found that most of the new places in my price range were on lots that had either recently been farmland or were razed of their old trees to simplify construction of little cookie-cutter homes. Each of those homes gets one 25-gallon tree for the front yard, and so the neighborhood *might* look like a forest again in 25 years or so.

My current house is about 15 years old, but the rule in The Woodlands (until recently but don't get me started...) always was that developers had to work around the existing trees as much as possible. Plus there are wild spaces all over. So driving in The Woodlands makes you feel like you're driving around in the woods -- to the point where it's darned easy to get lost out here.

Anyway, I love my trees. But I do not love my backyard. As mentioned in a previous entry, I've asked a landscaper to design something wonderful. Unfortunately, I have not heard from him since our first meeting. I know, these things take time, and I am *trying* to be patient. Meanwhile, here are the "before" pictures. Sad, but true. Except for the cool trees, it's a mud-pit.

Above, we're looking from the concrete slab porch toward Big Daddy. On the left, we're looking from Big Daddy back toward the porch. Pretty, right? I am pretty sure grass will grow in a lot of that dirt space if the landscaper can do some grading to prevent Lake Smukke from forming out there after every 1/4-inch of rainfall. Oh, sure, having some real *soil* out there instead of this sandy dusty crud would probably help, too.

Scissors

2008-03-22T20:29:00.002-05:00

scissors

A number of Twitter users have created 'color teams' for a geek Olympics, of a sort. Event #1 involves posting photos of ourselves in 'team uniforms,' throwing rocks, paper or scissors.

Being geeky, I am on FF1CAEteam, which is the hex color designation of a lovely bright pink. Amazingly, the racing Nomex still fits and is mostly still pink although wow it faded over the years.

Had to post the photo on Flickr, which I had not used before. Now I'm blogging from there -- an experiment. Does it work? If so, I also took some 'before' photos of the non-landscaping today & the glorious trees that keep the sun from allowing any grass to grow in the backyard.

Professionals

2008-03-19T19:55:00.005-05:00

I'm a professional communicator. I don't have any fancy license, but I have a college degree and people have paid me to write & edit text for the last 25 years or so.

I am not a professional engineer, but I occasionally make forays into that world. Every time I do, I fix some typos, turn some passive voice into active voice, and learn a lot about how the world works. I take engineering classes to expand my mind & my technical knowledge, but I never think, "Any monkey could create a job design if they had the right software. Why the hell do we need these high-priced engineers?"

Holiday Inn Express commercials notwithstanding, I believe many things in this world are best done by trained professionals. Heart surgery, for example. Soldiering. Plumbing. Electrical wiring. Bridge-building. Cooking. Cleaning.

I had a professional landscaper visit my house yesterday to plan out something wonderful for my backyard. I could go out and buy 50 plants, dig some holes and stick plants in 'em. Afterward, my backyard would be the landscaping equivalent of the newsletter that one of our engineers recently threw together using a hideous Microsoft Word template, some dark photographs of unidentifiable instrumentation, and some random text in a miniscule font that his target audience will not be able to read without a magnifier. Not to mention the black text on dark blue background. (sigh) Because, of course, any monkey with the right software can be a professional communicator.

Or, perhaps, a professional landscaper. This evening, I told my neighbor about the landscaper's visit. He said, "Why don't you just do it yourself? I did mine..." In a rare burst of restraint, I did not say, "Yes, I see that." This is, after all, the neighbor with the naked guy on his back porch.

Irony? He's a professional elementary school administrator who complains that people think it's so easy to deal with 200 screaming kids all day long.

R-e-s-p-e-c-t.

How the Flu Works

2008-03-02T17:37:00.003-06:00

I'm pretty sure I saw this on the Discovery Channel, but I may have confused some of the details (heh).

The flu begins its life as a nasty little bug, the kind of bug that none of the other bugs likes because it's always mean and never shares. When it grows up to full bugness, it has achieved Supreme Meanness, and it is ready to take on humanity.

It jumps into its first victim, where it begins its nefarious plot. The game begins with a clone army, which it prepares in the lungs of the infected, hapless soul, even before that person realizes s/he is sick. The first sign of illness, in fact, is a teeny little cough, which serves the evil bug by dispersing clone minions into other hapless victims -- again, before the cougher even knows s/he is sick.

After the victim has done a few days of the bug's evil, the clone armies begin to march out of the lungs and start tearing up other parts of the body. The victim now realizes s/he is sick because s/he begins to feel nausea, fever, chills, runny nose, headache, etc. In short, the victim feels s/he has been run over by a bulldozer.

The truly evil part of the bug's plan is the nausea. The bug knows that if the victim does not eat or drink enough to keep the body's defenses up, the bug can win. So the victim must stuff him/herself with water, chicken soup, Gatorade, Saltines, and/or Girl Scout "Cinna-Spins" even though they would rather just curl up & die.

All of the battle is going on at the cellular level, so you can't *see* anything. Victims may look flushed from fever or pale from nausea, but they don't have any knife wounds or missing limbs. Thus, it's easy to poke them and call them slackers. But in fact, their metabolism is running so high they are burning more calories than they could wish to eat. This leads to what cyclists call "the bonk," where your body just runs out of energy & shuts down higher functions, like consciousness. And thus, we nap. And nap. And then nap some more.

I've been sleeping on & off for the last 36 hours, trying to let my body handle the Battle of the Bug. I've avoided drugs because fever is one of your body's natural defenses for these nasty bugs, and it's a good and useful thing as long as it doesn't get up over 103-ish, where it starts frying brain cells (not a great idea). I have this mental image of my body's defenses all lined up & ready for battle, and some Pharmaceutical Pom Pom Squad standing in the way trying to 'help.' No thanks. My body is well-equipped for this battle.

And so, I'm letting my body handle the mess. I'm tired of coughing, and I really wish I could take some aspirin to stop the general aches but that would reduce the fever too, so, I'll suffer. Actually, rather than suffer, I'll just go back to sleep. Right after I force down another cup of soup.

Another geeky success

2008-02-29T18:35:00.004-06:00

This week, I squeezed in my third adventure in oilfield engineering education. The adventure began as the previous ones did: Instructor goes through the class roster, sees female person from -- what the hell? -- the advertising department, assumes she is going to be a dunce, places her on the front row in the center so he can give her extra attention, which clearly she is going to need, right?

I have to admit that despite my previous success with these classes, I was nervous about this one. The head of engineering training told me that the last two sessions of this class had a 50% failure rate. In English: half of the class failed. Part of the reason for that is that my company holds its engineers to a very high standard: You must achieve an 80% average to pass. The other part is that this class is the first one most of our fledgling engineers take, and some are ill-prepared for the work.

So I went in with a bit of a fear factor. The math for this class was said to be the most intense of all our introductory engineering classes, and math scares me. On the first day, I could barely keep up with the instructor on some of the calculations, and I got very frustrated by my slowness.

These classes are five days long, with a test every day, and total brain stuffing. The first day has a pre-test, just to gauge your knowledge. I got a 47, but that's ok because it doesn't count for anything, and it showed that my brain had plenty of space. Tuesday through Thursday tests measured our ability to use information we'd learned the day before. My scores were 98, 98 & 90, respectively.

The Thursday test was a big deal because apparently it's the one that caused most of the failures in the previous classes. It put a number of my classmates "on the bubble," as well. I felt good about my 90 because all of my wrong answers were due to my own carelessness -- not my lack of knowledge. Carelessness I can deal with. Being stupid, not so much.

Thursday night homework didn't go well because I didn't feel well. Maybe something I caught from a classmate who felt poopy on Monday & Tuesday? Seriously medicated myself for Friday. Upon checking homework on Friday morning, I found I'd totally messed up a page of calculations. Took me 15 minutes to find my error, but I did. Stupid carelessness!

For the 80-question final exam, we were allotted 3.5 hours. The exam was 60 1-point multiple choice & then 20 two-point calculation questions of the type where if you get one wrong, all the ones underneath are also wrong. You calculate one thing, which you use to calculate the next, and then use one or both of those to calculate something else. Carelessness = high failure potential.

Friday's instructor was not the guy we'd had earlier in the week. I finished in 1.5 hours and the instructor gave me a look that might have been either, "Did you just give up?!" or "Holy shit, you're done?!" Then he graded it and grinned. I got a 96. I can live with that.

But this flu/cold/poopy-feeling thing is not so good.

"Cute" + Technology = Drool

2008-02-17T09:30:00.007-06:00

Once upon a time, in the mid-1990s, I was a "road warrior" with platinum frequent flyer miles, suffering from that shoulder ache you get from lugging too much junk in your carry-on bag. The biggest piece of junk, of course, was the laptop computer.

To ease my shoulder, I bought a Toshiba Libretto, one of the first micro-notebook computers. Unlike the PDAs that were all the rage at the time, the Libretto runs *real* Windows software (Win 95 I think?) and has a real keyboard, although I am pretty sure most people could not type on the thing because the keys are so tiny. Importantly, it weighs in at just 2 lbs with the standard battery. It has a modem (remember those?) and an external floppy drive, although I can't remember whether I had to buy that separately or it came with the thing. (At the time of purchase -- 1996ish -- a floppy was all you needed!) It has a 75 MHz Pentium processor, so it was pretty much standard/high performance 10 years ago. In the photo above, you see the Libretto (left) with my Mac Mini and a CD, for size comparison. You can imagine how big the screen and keyboard are. Or click here.

In addition to being practical, the thing was a very cute conversation piece. Even in Japan, where I traveled a lot, most people had never seen one "in the flesh." So OK, it's not "elegant," but it's functional, compact, and it cost me about $1400. I can't remember whether that included the spare oversize battery &/or any other gizmos I may have bought at the time.

These days, I am no road warrior. I have not booted the Libretto in years. When I need a notebook at home, I have a 7-year-old Dell. Most often, I sit at the computer desk and use my sweet iMac (pat pat). If I need Windows, I also have a desktop Dell that is faster & more powerful than the laptop (but I have not booted the thing in months). For work, they gave me an IBM laptop that I occasionally carry to meetings or classes, but mostly it sits in its docking station.

So I don't *need* a MacBook Air, but dang if I don't want one.

As the Houston Chronicle's Dwight SIlverman points out, the Air has the same sex appeal as an iPhone. I should note that I took the photo above with my iPhone. I like sex appeal. In fact, John Gruber at Daring Fireball suggests that the MacBook Air is made for me. It is, he says, the computing analogue to a sporty convertible coupe. Lest anyone forget, I drive a yellow Mini Cooper convertible.

The nay-sayers point out the Air's lack of "necessary" features: just one USB port oh n0z! no Ethernet port, oh n0z! no optical drive, oh n0z! The list goes on. These factors do not concern me. I do worry about battery life; when I bought the Libretto I did get a spare battery, which I occasionally needed. I also hate it that the built-in mouse has only one button. Sorry, Mac purists: I am a right-clicker.

But hey, let's put this in a different perspective for this non-power-user: When I bought my Mini Cooper, I had a choice between the base Cooper and the Cooper S that has the awesome supercharger and some other sweet performance features. I had the $. I could have bought the S, and, in fact, I drooled over it for a long time. In the end, however, the "S" did not come in yellow, and yellow was more important than zoom. (I do not regret the decision, except very occasionally when a little more straight-line acceleration would enable a pass that would relieve some drive-time stress.)

I'm going to go back to The Woodlands Mall today to drool on the Air again. It's sunny, so I might even drive with the top down & iPod blaring through the Mini's speakers, just to get into the right mood.

The Naked Guy

2007-12-13T18:37:00.000-06:00

Got up at the usual hour, dragged my sorry self out of bed, got ready for work, let the dog out into the backyard.... Everything is normal, and then I see the naked guy.

I can't be sure he's completely naked because he's on the other side of the fence, in my back-door neighbor's yard. He's at least not wearing a shirt, and it's only about 40 degrees out there. And he's decidedly not my neighbor, who is not tall enough to be viewed so plainly over the fence.

Obviously, I'm curious about this fella, who appears to be staring in the back door of the neighbor's house. My first thought is that he's a pervert, perpetrating a sex crime right there in my (well, almost) backyard. Then I wonder if he belongs there & I'm over-reacting like a nosy neighbor.

Either way, I wonder exactly what I'm supposed to do. I figure running out into my yard and yelling, "Hey, you pervert, get away from that door!" is probably not a good choice. I can't really see far enough, well enough, to decide whether he is a threat. However, before I get the phone out for a little 9-1-1 action, I figure I ought to be prepared to answer when the dispatcher asks, "What is your emergency?".

So I grab my trusty binoculars and try to look out the window in such a way that if the pervert turns his head, he can't see that I'm looking at him through binoculars. And that's when I see...

...that he is just a life-size mannequin standing on the back porch. I first saw him Monday morning. He's still there, freezing his sorry butt off out there. I'm awfully glad I took a moment to use the binocs before I sent some of Montgomery County's finest over there with guns drawn and adrenaline all rushing. I can just see the headline in the local paper on *that* police report:

Nosy neighbor reports peeping tom in neighbor's backyard. Officers respond to find that both she & the alleged perpetrator are BIG DUMMIES.

Birthday fun

2007-10-27T22:10:00.000-05:00

What I did on my (ahem) 24th birthday:
-- Went to the Apple store. Looked at iPod Touch, Looked at iPhone. Looked at iPod Touch again. Looked at iPhone again. Repeat until noon.
-- Ate lunch
-- Went home. Plugged new iPhone (happy birthday to me!) into the Mac and got her activated. WOOHOO!! Everything works and is oh so wonderful except -- the phone part. Gotta love A&T. Apparently they were messing with the network in Houston, or so the phone support bimbo informed me. I find on the Internet a solution & restart the 'network.' Phone works :)
-- Installed new Leopard operating system & iLife on the Mac. Smooth as glass.
-- Watched dad clean my gutters. Send iPhone photos of this to my brother in Brazil, via iPhone mail program. Happy birthday to me!
-- Ate pizza.
-- Texted brother & fiancee just to play with the iPhone.

It's cool. I'm *such* a geekette.

2007-10-25T20:41:00.001-05:00

I don't remember how I stumbled into it, but I've located yet another "Social Network," this one called LinkedIn. Call it Facebook for boring old grown-ups. That is to say, it is where I have found most of my current & former colleagues & friends. Unfortunately, it's boring. It's like going to a convention & having no fascinating speakers, no fun dinner parties, no drinks at the bar, just one enormous poster session of everybody's resumes. Yawn!

I suppose if I were looking for a job, it would be the hot ticket. If I were looking to hire someone, it might be the hot ticket, too. In fact, I think I found it because there was a post on one of my Facebook groups about a job opportunity available by visiting someone's LinkedIn profile. I wasn't interested in the job, but I was curious about LinkedIn. Go figure.

Anyway, it's sad to say that I have more 'connections' on LinkedIn after a couple of days than I do on Facebook after a couple of weeks. I believe this means I am old (sigh) How did that happen?

Facebook is more fun. My birthday is ... soon. I'll be 24. Again. One of these days, I'm going to get it right.

I have my shots

2007-10-16T18:40:00.001-05:00

I feel like I am a dog when I say that I went with my parents to get our shots yesterday. (I would have blogged immediately afterward, but Blogger was down...)

In another 9 days, I will be immune from Yellow Fever, one of those nasty mosquito-borne diseases that you only have to worry about in tropical climes. Houston is, apparently, not tropical enough. But some parts of Brazil are, which is why mom, dad & I paddled up through the wet weather yesterday to get Yellow Fever vaccinations. They are not required for the places we are headed, but they have been recommended. So we got 'em.

Unlike some shots (I think the flu shot may be one) where the nurse tries to jab the needle deep into a muscle, the Yellow Fever shot is subcutaneous -- just under the skin. Or so the nurse said as she looked at me, the brave one, going first. "It will bubble a bit," she added.

"Bubble?" I asked as she stuck the needle just under the skin of my forearm and started pushing the plunger.

"Bubble" was the perfect word for it. It was like a ripple as the fluid was injected in there, ripping one layer of skin from whatever skin is attached to under there. And thus, it did not feel great. But it was cool to see, and I was busily letting my eyes keep my brain from noticing the pain when dad suddenly spoke.

"Did you *watch*?!" His voice was a mixture of surprise, horror and respect.

"Of course I watched. It was totally cool," I responded. "Was I not supposed to watch?"

Mom, next up, responded. "I can assure you that I'm not going to watch."

In fact, mom looked completely away and winced. "It huuuurts!"

"It's like a bee sting," I offered helpfully.

"Big damn bee," mom responded tersely.

Dad avers that it did not hurt at all. He did not, however, watch the bubbling. He claims that once the needle was in, he watched it all, but by the time he turned his head, it was all over. Ask the nurse. She'll tell you.

And it did *not* hurt that much. But it itches like a sun-of-a-gun now.

Is it me?

2007-10-13T11:15:00.000-05:00

I'm struggling with the word "modest," myself. If you blog, can you really be said to be 'modest'?

Also, some 2/3 of all people who have visited the site have been paired with lions. Is this a statement about the kind of people who are on the "New Line Productions" e-mail list, or people who are interested in 'fantasy' type stories?

Edited: Hey, I just changed into a ferret!

Friends & Twits

2007-10-09T20:20:00.000-05:00

So how's this for irony in the digital age: My first 'friend' on Facebook is a neighbor. Sorta. Well, he lives in The Woodlands and has a dog, so I've probably actually at least seen him at a dog park. Or walking the dog. Or not. Anyway, he founded the Facebook "Pet Owners of The Woodlands" group, and after I posted a picture of Lakrids on there, this fella 'friended' me. I feel so (sniff) friendly!

I also got 'poked' by a perfect stranger, which was worth a giggle. I poked her back. I hope that was the right thing to do heh.

My second friend is a real friend, albeit one from work and one who lives in Brazil. I wrote to him in Danish, saying my Danish is miles better than my Portuguese (I really gotta get back to those Rosetta Stone exercises before the Unnamed Male Relative's wedding in November.) My Brazilian friend doesn't speak Danish. So naturally, he wrote back in French. It's a fun world...

Meanwhile in real life, another friend from work (who happens to live in Kilgore, Texas) was in town yesterday to take a class, so we had dinner & the world's margaritas. He's the fella who -- oh my goodness, I never blogged about that adventure (#2 on this link). Briefly, he let me operate a piece of coveted machinery on a job site, which I will blog about another day. I giggled like a girl about being allowed to do this, and he & his cohorts were greatly amused. I've since made him famous in print, which made him smile.

All the while, people have been "tweeting" on Twitter. Feel free to call me a "twit" for falling into it, but it reminds me of the best part of old 1980s chatting, but even better -- because if you log off & go to sleep, all the messages from people overnight are there waiting for you in the morning.

It's a sickness. I think you either 'get' it or you don't. I'm not sure I 'get' it in the long term, but it's a giggle at the moment. There's something very amusing about the fact that my very first 'follower' was Robert Scoble.. If you don't know who that is, then you probably won't 'get' Twitter, anyway.

Old People in Social Media

2007-10-07T14:57:00.000-05:00

Egged on by something I read on the Internet recently, I decided to try some Social Media sites. I had already joined myRagan.com, a Social Media site for people in the communications industry, but I read something last week about MySpace and Facebook being useful 'networking tools' for grown-ups. So I thought, what the heck.

Understand that I have been "networking" online since about 1984, when I ran the Chameleon BBS here in Houston and "networked" with friends from across the metropolitan area . I also "networked" with people around the country to develop new applications/code for the particular brand of BBS software we used on our Apple II computers. We all used 300-baud modems and dialup, when "online chat" was typing, without avatars, graphical smilies, video, audio or anything else. Many of us could type faster than our modems could send/receive the data for realtime chat, and for the BBSes, many of us could read messages as fast as the modems could retrieve data.

But it turns out I am old & have no clue about how these new networks "work." First, it appears (to an old fart like me) that 99% of the users on these things are under 30. Oddly, so was I back when I started online networking. But more importantly, none of them are people I know -- or maybe I just can't find the people I know. So I have no "friends," which is just (pout) pathetic.

In the real world, when you move to a new place, you join some groups of like-minded people and you "make friends." So I started that this weekend. Joined some "groups" to see what happens. I've heard/read stories about so-called "creepers" who "friend" anyone and everyone in an effort to appear popular. (And thus, the perfectly nice noun, friend, becomes a verb.) There is some debate about whether this is a horrible breach of etiquette or enthusiastic extraversion. Until I figure it out, I'm not "friending" anyone, even if I think I may know them. But I did "poke" someone I'm *sure* I know, but now I'm not sure that was wise -- but I don't know because I'm old & out of it. I feel a bit like my parents must have felt when I started online chats in the 1980s: "Why don't you just pick up the phone?"

Anyway, this is me on Facebook. If you're not on facebook, that link won't take you anywhere. If you are, but you're not a friend, I don't know what you will see: maybe everything, maybe nothing? (The dog refuses to log on & find out.) I also made a MySpace account but I'm not going to do anything with that right now.

So give me a .... poke? I don't really have any idea what I'm talking about here.

(Addendum: I also joined Twitter, which I really don't understand. It's like a global chat room... Very interesting...)

Neighborly update

2007-09-05T17:44:00.001-05:00

The bad news: The rain destroyed Sunny's web, and she disappeared. The rain also did quite a number on the white spider's web. (I'm calling the white spider Luna.)

The good news: Luna rebuilt.

The bad news: It rained again.

The good news: Luna rebuilt again, and Sunny came back, but put her web in a different place (up in the trees, not quite as high as Luna's web, but also not across the sidewalk. And not as spectacular. I think Sunny is a bit depressed about the whole rebuilding thing.)

The even better news: There's a third one, another yellow face, in the backyard.

The worst news of all: I went to shoot a portrait of the new spider and felt a familiar, unpleasant tingle on my toes. It suggested the spider's new name: Queen Elizabeth. She is surrounded by palace guards, having built her throne directly over a fire ant mound. Ow ow ow ow ow.

Ain't nature great?

"Sunny" is back

2007-09-03T14:37:00.000-05:00

Last one, I promise. A big thunder-boomer is about to smack the area. I'm afraid my new neighbors may lose their homes (cry).

Anyway, all this photography has been fun. It will be interesting (or sad) to see what the thunderstorm does to the webs. If the webs are destroyed, it will also be interesting (and fun) to see how long it takes for the spiders to rebuild (preferably not across the sidewalk...)

Lunch with the new neighbor

2007-09-03T12:26:00.000-05:00

I went back out around noon to find Sunny missing from her web and the white spider happily welcoming some very unhappy critter to his (her?) web. I think it's a fly -- you can sort of see a wing in the green-background photo below. I came out while the white spider was busily preparing it for lunch. The web has a few good rips, but the spider doesn't seem to mind. I imagine it doing the equivalent of spider whistling while s/he works.

For what it's worth, the camera for all of these & most of the rest is a Panasonic DMC-FX07. Some of the shots in the other blog entries may have been taken with my Olympus C-50. The Olympus has a little more in the way of manual adjustments for f-stops, etc., but it's a bit older & has been dropped a few times, so it has "issues." I don't use the digital zoom on these cameras, so everything you see here is max 3x zoom.... so yes, I'm really close to the spiders.

More spiders

2007-09-03T09:24:00.000-05:00

The morning visit with the new arachnid neighbor turned up the exciting development that there are, in fact, two new neighbors: the yellow one with the enormous web across the sidewalk (photo, right), and a white one with a smaller, more subdued web up near the roofline (photo, below). By "smaller" I mean it's only about 1 foot across. (The web, not the spider, heh!)

I've been shooting my new neighbors since dawn-ish and have discovered that my cheap, compact tripod is not quite up to the task of capturing spiders that live more than 4 feet off the ground. However, that's the beauty of digital photography: You can shoot 200 images, delete 190 of them and still feel good about your "skill."

A professional photographer friend of mine says he hates digital photography for that reason. Once upon a time, an amateur had almost no chance of getting a good shot because they were always afraid of wasting film. Now... I can shoot more than 1,000 6-megapixel images onto my 4-GB memory card. So what if I shoot 25 pictures of the same spider? Surely, one will be in focus! And I might actually get a well-framed shot by accident!

(at right, the yellow spider's web across the front walk) Anyway, I was out there this morning shooting close-up portraits of the yellow spider (named Sunny after my car, for her charming disposition and her big smiles for the camera), with the camera on the tripod about 3 inches from the web. I was merrily snapping along when a wasp hit the web and scared the daylights out of me. Sunny was not happy at the intrusion either, as I think the web is made to capture smaller prey, like mosquitos (which is why I like having it there!) It was one of those "little seen in nature" events and it didn't take long enough to get the camera re-focused -- the wasp got away cleanly (perhaps with a bit of a fright), and the web was no worse for wear.

(Above, the backside of the yellow spider) My human neighbor came out in the yard later, and mentioned having seen us in the front yard the night before. I explained about my new pets (heh) and he came over to take a look. He is not a big fan of spiders, having walked into too many such webs strug across his own front walk. (Been there, done that. You wonder for days afterward whether you still have a spider living in your hair...) But he admitted he'd never noticed how beautiful the webs are, and said he appreciated my letting him meet the new neighbors -- from a distance. And he was glad they are at *my* house rather than his. Heh!

I shot a gazillion photos, and I put the best of them on Shutterfly. (below, yellow spider's web from the back, showing the "warning stripes" at the edges of the web -- the curved "dotted line" on the right side. According to one of the Web sites I read last night, the warning stripes may be designed to keep birds from smacking the web and tearing it to smithereens.)

New neighbor

2007-09-02T21:11:00.000-05:00

A couple of families have moved into the rental houses on my street, but the coolest new neighbor lives in my own yard. A member of gasteracantha cancriformis seems to have built a new living space across my front walkway, which may or may not be the best idea s/he ever had.

G. cancriformis, as you may guess, is a spider. The "cancri" part of its name comes from the fact that the spider has what appears to be a 'crab' body. I know this because mom & dad & I went out to photograph the spider & its enormous web earlier this evening with little success. It was dark, and we're not exactly professionals at this. (I'll try again in the morning....)

The one photo that did sort of come out is shown above, a very close-up of the spider in the center of its amazing web. The web itself is a couple of feet across and dotted with brilliant white streaks. It's truly a work of art that I hope to be able to share.

Until I saw the photo all cropped for show & tell, I thought we were dealing with one of the much larger Texas banana spiders (Argiope aurantia), but those are much larger and scarier than this little guy/gal. Anyway, this one is plenty big enough.

I'll try in the morning for some better shots of the beautiful web. I picked up a few hints off the Web (Google: "how to photograph spider webs").

By the way, these spiders apparently come in a variety of colors. I'm not sure why this one has chosen to match my lovely yellow Mini heh

Tiny neighborhood, big excitement

2007-08-06T17:44:00.000-05:00

There is nothing more guaranteed to generate excitement in an ex-reporter (that is, me) than coming home to see 37 sheriff cars at the corner of her little dead-end street.

My first instinct was that 37 cop cars was a bit "overkill" for one tiny out-of-date registration on the Mini Cooper. And I can explain that, anyway.

But no, it turns out another house on the corner had been vacant for some weeks this summer, and some clever local teen-agers found out that if one of them crawled in through the doggie door, they had a vacant house to party in to their heart's content. (Note to self: No matter how much the dog begs, we will never, ever have a doggie door.)

So, for several weeks, the local kiddies have been partying up a storm in the house. They might even be partying still, if they had not decided to hold some street races Saturday night (where was I, sleeping???), thus making a neighbor suspicious. The neighbor took license numbers, and called the sheriff, who sent a posse out to round up the brats.

I can't wait to hear the rest of the story. I got this much of the rumor in 2 minutes from one neighbor..... I am sure there are even better stories just waiting to be discovered!!

Shutterfly!

2007-07-20T21:00:00.000-05:00

Because I have been a member over at Dogster (well, the dog has...), Shutterfly recently sent me a code for a free 8x10 memory book. You can build any book you want from your own photos, various different photo layouts, add captions, etc. It was fun and easy to build, even with all my special tweaks (they have a 'standard template' for a pets book, but of course I can't do anything the "standard" way.

Anyway, I got the book today in the mail -- it's great fun! For those of you who can't come & see the in-person thing, I'm told that you can view it online. I'm also told that you don't have to be a member of Shutterfly to look. [But if you are mom & dad, and you're only out of town for a couple of weeks, you should just wait and look at it when you can see the real hardcover book!!]

This is 100 times easier than real scrapbooking, but considerably less "creative" overall. Did I mention that I did the whole book in just a few hours? It usually takes me a few hours to do just one scrapbook page, by the time I'm done stamping, embellishing, journaling and all that nonsense. And I think I could embellish these pages just fine if I wanted to do all that work....

Oh yes, this is a fun thing!

To See or Not to See

2007-06-26T17:40:00.000-05:00

I had Lasik some years ago on my left eye. As a child, I had a bit of a lazy eye -- the left one wandered a bit. As a result, the left eye was much weaker than the right, which was just slightly nearsighted. I wore glasses & contacts for years, and then I was convinced to try the laser surgery.

Unlike many people, I had a bad experience with it. I had terrible, awful dry eye after the procedure, and I never felt my vision was as good as it had been with glasses. This was partly the result of the dryness. The layer of fluid is a lens, of a sort. But it was never bad enough to go back to glasses or contact lenses -- just something to squint through.

Last year, I went to an ophthalmologist, who said that in his opinion, my vision was still not bad enough to warrant glasses. In addition, my nearsightedness has delayed the onset of presbyopia -- the need for bifocals. So I happily continued my squinting.

Well, I'm tired of squinting. So I went to a "therapeutic optometrist" today. I'm not sure how a "therapeutic optometrist" is different fom a plain old optometrist, but this place was on my insurance company's list of preferred vision care providers, so that's where I went.

If you haven't been to the eye doctor for a while, it's worth a trip just to see all the cool toys. Among the video games we played was one that measures your peripheral vision. You click a mouse every time you see a flash of light. After a while, you begin to wonder whether you're seeing new flashes of white light or ghosts from the previous flash of white light. Very fun. I wonder if they are measuring reaction time as much as they are measuring peripheral vision.... I didn't get a prize, but the nice young doc also didn't try to talk me out of driving home...

Anyway, the doc was a nice fella who said I don't need a very strong prescription, but he could certainly understand if I'm tired of squinting and particularly have trouble driving at night. (I actually don't have any more trouble driving at night than I do during the day, but then, I don't drive at night very often. The problem is reading street signs or anything else more than 3 feet from my face -- day or night.) Anyway he was sympathetic to my desire to see clearly at distance. He did warn me, however, that if I get glasses for distance, I should always take them off to read. He even showed me why. Very instructive.

And so the optical dispenser gals, a couple of cute 20-somethings with little nose pierces, helped me pick out some new driving & movie-watching glasses. (What's weird is that one had her pierce on the left nostril & one had it on the right. It felt wrong, like something was out of sync.) I believe they helped me pick out something stylish and yet not ridiculous for a person my age....

Now, we wait. Seven to 10 more days of squinting.

Drip, drip, drip

2007-06-22T20:39:00.000-05:00

Went to dinner with mom & dad tonight at Macaroni Grill. Last time I was there, it was with visitors from Denmark, and they were not impressed. I'm guessing tonight was our last visit for another five years or so until mom forgets that we had dinner in the rain even though we were sitting inside....

Oh yes, it was raining outside, but the roof leaks. And the leaks dripped where? On our table. Or rather, on mom & I. All through dinner I kept noticing occasional water splooshes on my arm, but I didn't think anything of it. Then suddenly, mom pushes away from the table and says, "Are we done? Because I'm gettting wet."

Dad, being an extrovert, calls the waiter over to say, "You might want to let someone know that the roof is leaking here on this table." And the waiter (and then the Maitre'd) is dumb enough to say, "We know."

So.... they knew the roof leaked over that table, but they seated people there anyway? Brilliant. The stupid thing was admitting it. A smart person would have said, "Oh, really? Dang. I better tell a manager. Thanks for bringing that to our attention." Then you walk away, snickering, but you at least have done a public relations turn and appeared to be concerned about your patrons' comfort and (frankly) the sanitation standards of your business. Instead, they said, "Yeah, we knew you'd get dripped on all through your meal, and we know the drips go through the roof, the insulation, probablly all kinds of nasty roach poop and whatever, but we don't care because we already *got* your business."

I promised mom I would blog about the experience. Mom said, and I think she is brilliant, "I'll blog with my feet."

Dating update

2007-06-21T20:40:00.001-05:00

A while back, I joined in one of the Internet's most painful trends: online dating. I tried two services -- Match.com and eHarmony.

Match.com is straightforward: Look at pictures, read about someone & decide whether to send an e-mail that the other person won't respond to (because they decided not to pay for the service). eHarmony purports to have a "scientific approach": They make you suffer through a long personality test & then match you with people who never respond (because they decided not to pay for the service).

For the three months I was a paying member of these illustrious services, I met two people worth dating. One petered out after a few dates because he did not know when to shut up. You see, guys, no matter how brilliant and all-knowing you may be, the woman you are with might -- just might -- know more than you about one tiny, itsy-bitsy small subject. If you refuse to acknowledge this, you are effectively kissing off your chance of a goodnight kiss. Or a handshake. It's called "respect." I'm pretty sure that word is still in the dictionary, but maybe I'm old-school.

The second petered out before we even met because, well, because he knew my ex. Go figure. My ex lives in New York. What are the odds that an engineer living in Houston metro, would know people I knew when I was married and living in upstate NY? Small world. I'm not sure what it says about my ability to avoid making the same mistakes over & over.

I still have my Match.com account, although I no longer pay for it, so I have 'hidden' myself so men don't fall hopelessly in lust only to be disappointed when they get no response (because you can only respond if you pay, and most "men" would not be worth $20 to exchange the two or three e-mails typically required to determine they are actually pigs). But Match.com still e-mails me once a week with "my matches."

Yesterday, for the first time, they matched me with someone from work. Someone totally, absolutely, impossibly wrong. In fairness, Match.com said he was only a 74% match. But still.

On a recent (May!) business trip, which I meant to blog, I dragged along a professional photographer to shoot a zillion pictures of my colleagues working in the field. It was a fun trip, and I still mean to write about it one of these days. But the relevant thing here is that the photographer, who is kind of cute and very fun, is also single and pointed out a FREE online dating site: Plenty Of Fish. So I signed up -- what the heck, right?

The thing about a free online dating site is that it's free. So there are all kinds of morons on there, including (I think -- I hope) 13-year-olds posing as 45-year-olds. If these men really are 45, there are a lot of reasons why they are divorced/separated/single. Example from a recent chat:

Man: Hi my name is Xxxxx.
Me: My brother's name is Xxxxx. You're not him are you? Because that would be really embarrassing.
Man: Ha no im not ur brother but r u feelin naughty?
Me:

(sigh) I mean, it's not even *video* chatting for heaven's sake.

Anyway, in two months of Fishing, I haven't caught anything worth keeping -- but hey, it's *free.* And I haven't given up yet.

Catching up (again)

2007-05-14T18:07:00.000-05:00

1) I passed the class. The math was hard, but I made the world's most awesome spreadsheet to do all the calculations for me, so I was golden. How can it be that a person who is so very nervous about doing math can get such a high level of entertainment from writing super complex Excel equations? Go figure.

2) I went out into the field again last week and had a great time. I'll probably blog more about it one of these days....

3) It was 95 degrees and sunny when I left work today and 73 degrees and absolutely *pouring* rain when I got home. What a difference 13 miles makes. Naturally the top was down. I was a little damp when I pulled into the garage. Laughing my butt off, but damp (i.e., very wet) nonetheless.

Geeking out again

2007-04-16T17:00:00.000-05:00

As I did last November, I'm taking an engineering course for work.

I should be doing my homework now, bu I'm writing about it instead. Good attitude, right? heh. Turns out the homework includes reading the first three chapters of a book written by a colleague who recently left the company. And I've read/written/edited on this technology in the past, so the reading is no problem. But I never had to actually *do* the calculations before, and I have this *thing* about math.

As with the first course I took, my classmates are mostly young, recent graduates of engineering programs. We have an interesting mix of engineers, which simply points to the shortage of qualified petroleum engineers. We have mechanical engineers, chemical engineers, manufacturing engineers, industrial engineers, civil engineers.... and me, of course.

I'm always the odd gal in these classes, first because I'm old enough to be my classmates' mom, and second because I'm not an engineer. There are two other gals in the class, both Americans (in contrast with the gals in my first class, one each from Russia & Colombia). The instructor already picked me out as the idiot... (sigh) I think it's the big hair, but it could be the "Corporate" in my job description. I am very worried about the math, so I don't mind, really. No, I lied. I hate to be labeled "big dummy from corporate" every time I walk into one of these classes. So ok I just have to keep proving myself. I can do that. I can do this. (repeat)

That said, we started the class with a pre-test, an embarrassing examination of what we already know about the subject at hand. Having read about it, I knew more than most, which isn't saying much. I had the second highest grade in the class, and I got a 33. That's why we're in the class, I suppose. But the pre-test was closed book, and the real tests will be open-book. I can do *anything* with an open book.

Anyway, on day 1, I have already learned 100 useful facts and concepts, so it's all good. More to come. I have to do homework now....

Fun with Engineers

2007-03-23T18:15:00.000-05:00

Earlier this week, an acquaintance sent me a bevy of fun engineer jokes ("A doctor, an engineer and a priest are playing golf..."), and I had a good giggle. Of course, we have all seen these jokes innumerable times, but they are still funny every time I see them because they are just so *true.*

Example: Engineer Bob sees Engineer Dave on a new bicycle and asks, "Hey nice bike, where did you get it?" Engineer Dave recounts the story: This woman was riding the bike down the sidewalk, and as she got close to me, she stopped, jumped off the bike, ripped her clothes off and said, "Take what you want." Engineer Bob nods & says, "Good choice. The clothes probably wouldn't have fit you anyway."

If you know a lot of engineers, you know why that's funny. And you will understand the irony of the following event occurring on a day when I knew I was going to spend the whole day in an engineering forum: I had a Great Hair Day.

Ladies, you know what I mean. There are bad hair days (a lot) and good hair days (occasionally), and once in a Blue Moon, a Great Hair Day. I wasted mine on a room full of engineers. (That's a slight exaggeration. It is not politically correct to mention this, but the engineers from Latin America *all* made a special point to introduce themselves. It is not my fault that some people fit their stereotypes.)

The forum was quite good, and I learned some important things. And some of the engineers I was meeting for the first time wondered aloud whether the forum discussion was too complicated for me. (sigh)

The nice thing about an engineering conference is that when they have bathroom breaks, there is never, ever a line for the ladies' room.

Me & memes

2007-03-18T10:35:00.000-05:00

A meme is technically a "unit of cultural information" that can propagate from one mind to another. In the Blogsphere, this typically occurs when someone posts a concept & others pick up on it. There are whole blogs & Web sites out there dedicated to creating blog memes -- questionnaires, topics for blogular discussion, photo subjects for the week, etc.

I'm not a big fan of memes because they usually lack context. Someone from outside of my world is going to suggest a topic that may or may not fit into the context of my life. For example, this weekend, Patrick's Weekender asks about childhood, cartoons & television.

I'm not a big TV person, and I was not 'raised by the TV" as some kids are. My favorite cartoon as a kid was Speed Racer (big surprise, right?). My brother & I would get home from elementary school, make a peanut butter & jelly sandwitch (oh, to have that metabolism again), and plop ourselves in front of Speed Racer before getting on with our childish lives. I can remember the house, the television, the mess in the kitchen, everything. Whether it's a 'real' memory is another question, entirely.

The other questions on Patrick's list didn't do much for me, until I ran over to Wil's Daily Snooze blog to see what's new. There I saw that his Sesame Street character is Cookie Monster, and I thought, "yeah, that fits." Out of curiosity, I memed and (of course) the answer is perfect:

You Are Ernie

Playful and childlike, you are everyone's favorite friend - even if your goofy antics get annoying at times.

You are usually feeling: Amused - you are very easily entertained

You are famous for: Always making people smile. From your silly songs to your wild pranks, you keep things fun.

How you life your life: With ease. Life is only difficult when your friends won't play with you!

The Sesame Street Personality Quiz

Shall I sing the song for you? "Rubber duckie, you're the one; you make bathtime lots of fun. Rubber duckie I'm awfully fond of you! Bo-do-do-de-o." That's plenty. If I sing the rest of the verses you will know I am certifiable.

One last meme, this one from Unconscious Mutterings, again via Wil. UM posts 10 words a week, and bloggers are supposed to respond with the first words that come to mind for each word. Easy enough:

San Francisco :: my heart

Sadness :: tears

Spirits :: ghosts

Harriet :: ozzy

State :: frantic

John :: Bigboote (I'll explain this one so you don't have me committted)

Offense :: lineman

TImeless :: ancient

Account :: payable (another one that needs explaining)

Refuse :: stubborn

John Bigboote is a character, an alien, in Buckaroo Bonzai, a classic awful bad comedic science finction romp. All of the aliens' first names are "John" and some have outrageous last names. This one is particualrly memorable because he is constantly reminding people that it's pronounced "Big-boo-TAY!"

Accounts payable only comes to mind today because I watched Office Space this weekend (on a date!) for the millionth time. You'd think I would know the movie backwards & forwards, but this viewing was the first time I understood what the annoying secretary is squeaking out when she answers the phone: "Corporate Accounts Payable..."

Ha! Ha?

2007-03-14T18:48:00.000-05:00

I like to laugh. I'm just a happy, laughing kind of person. I laugh in the face of adversity, and sometimes I laugh aloud at a funny idea that pops into my head when no one else is around. Some would say this makes me psychotic. I can't help it: I'm just a laugher.

That's why an article from yesterday's New York Times is just so disturbing. Seems you are only "supposed" to laugh at those who are above you in status and not at those who are below. And if you're a woman that pretty much means you are allowed to laugh at everything.

I don't like to think some poor self-image is what makes me laugh. When I laugh out loud at the dog pushing her ball through her tunnel in the backyard, am I somehow projecting that I'm inferior to the dog? Or is it possible that I actually get some joy out of seeing such unhibited play? When I laugh at an engineer telling an autobiographical story that he clearly means to be funny, am I sending a signal that he's a superior, or am I laughing because 1) I understand what happened and commiserate with his stuation, 2) I bet it was not even a little bit funny at the time, 3) I think he wants me to laugh rather than insult him, and 4) in hindsight and with proper comedic timing and his great accent, it's a giggle.

Not to be outdone by the muffin 'joke' that leads the NYT story (and no, I didn't laugh but I felt I was supposed to want to laugh), I will tell you the engineer's story that made my eyes water with laughing so hard. You can judge for yourself: Is it funny?

"I'll tell you, ma'am, we ran that [oilfield equipment] in the hole, and we did [the work we needed to do] just as perfect as anything. The customer was happy, I was happy, and we were doing great. Then this total idiot of an engineer -- and I can say that about him because I happen to know him reeeeeeeal well -- tells the operator ok, this is going so great, we can just crank it up a notch while we're pulling out of the hole. (pause) You know, he only took it up maybe 5 or 10 feet per minute. (pause) Damn if we didn't get that sucker stuck in the damn well."

Are you laughing? OK, it's not as funny on this end, either, as I'm typing it. I swear it was hilarious at the time.

Anyway, I don't buy the "superiority" argument. I prefer the argument presented in Comment #7 on the NYT reporter's blog about that story.

No gain?

2007-03-13T17:28:00.000-05:00

It's now two days since the 2:08, and I have not had any pain. If you live by the 'no pain/no gain" rule, then I wasted two hours of my Sunday, but two hours of sunshine is always good. Unless you live by the 'avoid sun or die of skin cancer" rule, in which case I really had a bad Sunday.

The ankles, in particular, didn't care one whit about the bike ride. In fact, riding a bike is the one exercise that my doctor actually recommended if I felt a need to sweat. It's non-weight-bearing and really has very limited ankle movement (some, but nothing like the elliptical machine), so as far as the ankles are concerned, the bike ride was a non-event.

I'm thinking about getting a new seat, and sometimes I think about getting a new bike. Then I look at the bike and the seat and think, "You have a perfectly good seat on a perfectly good bike. And you have another bike in the corner over there. Stop this nonsense immediately." The practical Smukke is not nearly as much fun as the silly Smukke, but she does have a nice house.

Bike #2 is a mountain bike. The ex & I bought a pair of these one year as an anniversary gift. I rode mine once & realized I hate mountain biking. I rode it a few more times after that but I really do not like being out of control, having roots, ruts and gravel grabbing my wheel & trying to tip me over, and having constant threats of pain & worse. When I was explaining this to my boss at the office today, he pretty much summed up the mountain bike experience: "If you aren't bleeding when you get home, you didn't have fun."

The bike is a few years older than the snazzy, shiny thing on the Trek site, and it's bright yellow. It's actually not bad for geocaching because it does allow you to follow nice trails off into recreational areas where geocachers like to hide things. However, it's not nearly as much fun in a daily basis as a road bike, which can take you to the grocery store for milk, the library for a new load of books, or over to mom & dad's with the paper.

My road bike is a sweetheart, but she's a hybrid road/touring bike, a Trek 400. When I went to look for a link, I found it under "vintage steel road bikes." (sigh). I bought her in the late 1980s when I was living in NJ and needed to replace my 9000-lb Sears monster. She has ridden innumerable centuries (100 miles in a day), one double century (200 miles in a day) and across the US (LA to Boston, but no, not in a day). She's a hard worker, is happy to carry panniers (which I use almost all the time to carry stuff) and has no problems. She is not as shiny as she once was, and she is not a color I would choose on purpose, but I can't really justify replacing her.

2:08:55

2007-03-11T15:07:00.000-05:00

That's how long the computer says I rode my bike today.

It was a perfect day for a ride. I started off with the foolish notion of riding down to my office & back, just to see how long it would take and determine whether the roads were relatively bike-friendly. My normal driving route is 13 miles and definitely *not* bike-friendly: skinny, two lane roads with no shoulder & lots of trucks. So I had this plan to go a different way.

I actually started off going that way, but I went to mom & dad's instead, a little 6-mile jaunt. There, I sat on the couch, blabbed with mom (who was fixin' to go play golf) & sucked down a bottle of water. When I left, I meant to loop around by the new Wal*Mart and back home, but it was a nice day. So I did the stupid thing & rode all the way to the office :)

The relatively bike-friendly one-way route is just shy of 15 miles, which is pretty much an hour in each direction. Or, according to the bike computer, one hour and one minute there & one hour and not quite eight minutes home. Aside from being tired on the ride home, there was a headwind for the last seven-ish painful miles. (whine whine whine)

The headwind is one of those 'matter of perspective' things. The trees aren't moving, so it's hard to say "oh yes, it's windy." But the weather page says we have a 10 mph wind. When you are on a bike, pedaling your brains out to achieve an average speed of 15 mph, that 10 mph wind is a brick wall. The nice thing about a good wind is that The Woodlands has lots of big fountains in ponds alongside the road. When it's windy, the fountains spray water all over hot, sweaty, tired cyclists, making them smile. (The fact that the water in those ponds is sort of yucky is another matter entirely.)

The other thing that is a 'matter of perspective' on a bike is the definition of 'hill.' For example, when I left my house, my street was flat. When I got home, after 2 hours on the bike, it was entirely uphill, including the driveway. Go ahead and laugh if you are from NJ or upstate NY or any other place with real hills, but for those who think of southeast Texas as flat, you may see it differently from a skinny, hard bicycle seat.

Parts that are going to be complaining tomorrow: butt (already complaining), neck (already complaining), hands (a little whiny), thighs (not complaining yet, but extremely likely tomorrow).

Aliens among us

2007-03-10T18:30:00.000-06:00

First came the weeds.

The stuff that Houstonians call grass is considered a 'weed' in anyplace that has real grass. I grew up with "real grass" in the Midwest, and I am pretty sure we did everything in our power to kill any St. Augustine 'grass' that came anywhere near the state of Illinois. We did it with weed killers: chemicals designed specifically to kill "alien plant species" and thicken up the good grasses.

Here in Houston, we thicken up this alleged grass and kill the even more annoying alien plant species. It is a miracle of chemistry that we can be so plant-specific about our killing, but then again, the Perm-O-Green folks just gave me an estimate today so we may find out next week that they just arbitrarily kill everything plant-like in the yard. This would probably not be the end of the world, since I'm fairly sure that more than 70% of the green stuff out there is non-grass. Scary.

Perm-O-Green promises only to kill the evil aliens that lurk among the St. Augustine, not the stuff that has taken over the front garden. So I spent this lovely, sunny Saturday afternoon yanking things out by the roots (and no, I don't mean gray hairs). The front garden now looks much better, but the Perm-O-Green guy said it badly needs a layer of mulch. The Mini is not particularly good at carrying such things, so it will wait until I can find new yard guys.

Because, you see, my yard guys are a different kind of aliens. There is no way (cough) for me to know whether they are legal or illegal aliens, but they are definitely not from 'around here.' Anyway, they last came in October, and they do not apepar to be coming back anytime soon. Meanwhile, the yard is looking a bit shaggy. I'd love to hire a neighborhood kid, but I have never seen one mowing in my neighborhood. Buying a lawnmower is, of course, totally out of the question. For now...

And then there is the final kind of alien, which is the little dog who I found in my backyard Thursday morning. I went out to encourage Lakrids to return to the house so I could go to work, and there she was, looking at this little brown alien. Seems Scooby (the neighbor's adorable, sweet white dog) has dug a hole under the fence, but he's still a little too large to get through it. Instead, Cowboy (the neighbor's annoying little yapping brown thing) squeezes through. Heh. The neighbor came over today to apologize & say they're fixing the hole. Heh. Naughty dogs are so cute when they are somebody else's !!

People Who Matter

2007-03-07T17:37:00.000-06:00

As I was fixin' to shut down my computer at work today, I got an e-mail that made me sad. One of my favorite work colleagues has resigned.

There are very few people whose resignations would make such a powerful impact on my day. This person's kindness, patience and general professional values made him one of my favorite internal customers. He challenged me, believed in me, pushed me to try things I didn't think I could do. He was affirming when affirmation was called for, and corrected me when I needed correction. I like to think I made his life a little easier for the last year, and maybe I did, since he sent me a note apart from any general announcement to 'everybody'.

I love my job, and I enjoy working with a number of my "internal customers" who respect my skills and praise my work. But I'll still miss this one engineer who did so much to make me -- an outsider in so many senses of the word -- feel like a valuable member of his team.

The oil industry is booming, and we're suffering, like many companies, with painful losses of good people to customers, competitors, startups & consultants. Seems this fella is going to do consulting. He will be great; he's a brilliant guy. I hope it makes him happy & affords him some time to enjoy the sunshine.

Ellipticality!!

2007-02-21T17:46:00.000-06:00

The ankles are fine, says me. I don't need to spend $xx to have a medical doctor tell me that I'm healed. I jumped on the elliptical machine for 10 minutes on Monday night and 20 minutes last night. I am fine, just fine.

Oh, sure, I still feel twinges. Sure, my ankles are still a little larger than normal. But I'm fine. Today I even parked in the normal parking lot, walked the half mile (<-- exaggeration alert) to my building and took the stairs up to my third-floor office.

In short, it was a normal day. It was even a fairly normal weather day, with temps back near 80 (79 and sunny on my way home, according to the car's thermometer) and loads of sunshine. It's the kind of day that we are due after two days of working out inside.

The dog is panting her tongue out, having just come in from a fine romp around the backyard with her favorite ball. If she gets her breath back before dark, we'll go back out there for a few more minutes later on, just to make sure we've maximized her potential energy release.

No news on the dating front. I wish I could help you live more vicariously but there is just not much to say. I'm frustrated by guys who are 47 - 52 and only interested in women 28 - 35. I am frustrated by guys who never respond. I am frustrated by guys who play games with names & photos to see which version of themselves attracts the best fish.

There's a great Tim Allen routine that pretty much sums up my PMS-laden frustrations at the moment: "Men are pigs."

I vaguely remember that this is one reason why I've never been much into 'dating.'

Dating & the Internet

2007-02-11T08:29:00.000-06:00

I've started dating again, and by 'again,' I mean for the first time in forever. I was married for 10 years, and even when the ex & I were dating, we lived 3-ish hours apart, so calling it 'dating' is a bit of a stretch. (Had we 'dated' each other while we were married, we might have managed to stay together, but that's another story.) After the marriage fell apart, I met a Martian on the Internet, and he was (is) sweet but on a different continent with no eagerness to relocate. Again, not much 'dating' going on there, although we had some fun 'virtual dates' and some great vacations.

Now I've signed up at an Internet matching service that attempts to pair you off with nearby 'like-minded' people of the opposite sex, for purposes of 'dating,' however one might define that word.

I have been underwhelmed thus far. We can start with the 300-pound guys who list themselves as 'average build.' Or the men who post photos of their younger selves, or some male model they found on the Internet. I'd be willing to give them the benefit of the doubt about having 'nice personalities' if they did not blatantly lie just to get attention. I am told that women do the same thing, and it flummoxes me. I don't see the point in 'attracting' someone who might very well run away as soon as he sees the rather average-looking, no-makeup, no-nonsense 40-something gal who gets out of the Mini Cooper at the designated date-meeting spot.

Responses from this Internet dating service fall into a few categories that seem to reflect the general state of the singles universe:

-- Illiterate morons, sex fiends and potential axe murderers: "hey bab u luk gud u want 2 hook up b4 da game im in woodlands 2 call my cell netime xxx-xxx-xxxx" [Seriously, this e-mail message arrived a couple of hours before the Super Bowl, supposedly from a 47-year-old professional man.]

-- Non-US citizens seeking green cards and financial scamulation: "Hello, you seem like a smart and beautiful American woman with compassion to those less fortunate than you. I am a well-educated Nigerian man who...." [I'm told that the guys get the same from Russian women.]

-- Guys who have trouble maintaining communication past the first e-mail. [Typically, the first e-mail indicates he has read something about me, usually asking for details about something in my Profile. I respond and ask 1-2 questions about him. He answers the questions and hits the send key. No lines of conversation remain open, so I guess we're done. Intentional? I don't think so. If the guy is a spectacularly good match otherwise, I might try to keep the conversation open myself, but so far it has not seemed to be worth the trouble.]

-- Guys who are fun to talk to, literate, clever, funny, nice, etc.

I have shared lots of e-mails, a few phone calls and two dates with a guy from category 4. Last night, I mentioned that I blog, and he said, "You aren't blogging about me, are you?" He was, at once, saying, "I value my privacy" but also asking, "If you did, would you say nice things?" So I'm not blogging about him, but he is nice.

I'm happy to be flexible about the definition of "date." So far, as you might expect, the largest component of it seems to be talking/listening. Last night we went to a pool hall & just never got around to embarrassing ourselves by actually shooting pool. We blabbed & enjoyed watching some kids ("kid' = anyone younger than us) playing 8-ball. The kids were talented & I have not been near a pool table in 20+ years, so I had little incentive to pick up a stick. Plus, one kid was so talented he could smoke + shoot + talk on his cell phone, which prompted several fun lines of conversation.

The concept of 'dating' also opens the possibility of dating more than one person at a time. I understand that a gal can have guy friends & guy dates, but I don't grok how you can juggle more than one guy date without one of them moving quickly into the 'friend' category. This is currently an academic question, but I welcome insights on the topic.

I look forward to seeing how this Internet matching is going to work. Meanwhile, Mom suggested trying a different matching service that one of her friends used to meet her current spouse. These services are not cheap, and this second one is less cheap than the first. I balk at the idea of paying for cable TV, an always-on entertainment channel. These services want $30-ish/month to introduce me to axe murderers, sex fiends and illiterate morons, with the dubiously entertaining e-mails coming at someone else's leisure. I'm not sure it's worth it, but.... I have had two nice dates that I would not have had otherwise.

I'd love to hear other people's experiences with these services & the 'value calculation' for continuing to subscribe. If you haven't found enough value in the first month, do they get enough new members to make it worth trying a second month?

Laughter and joy

2007-02-04T09:18:00.000-06:00

I always thought having one dog was fun. Now, I'm thinking two dogs is the key to weight loss through laughter.

Lakrids is an "only dog." So maybe she is a little bit spoiled and selfish. In particular, she does not like to share her ball. This morning, she and Little Guy were out in the yard, and she was being a brat. But Little Guy wanted to play. So she'd be chasing her ball, all intense with her Professional Soccer Dog demeanor, showing Little Guy how it's done and guarding the ball from him, and he would just come up behind her & bite her butt. Not a mean bite, but just a little nip like a little brother who wants to play with his bratty big sister. I was laughing so hard I was crying. I think I pulled a muscle in my smile.

Little Guy is camera-shy. He does the cutest things, and then as soon as I pick up the camera he wanders off, like, "Oh no no no, I don't do pictures." Lakrids is the opposite. She sits like a lump until the camera comes out, and then she begins to show off. This photo is part of the Battle for Mom's Lap. One minute before this photo was taken, both dogs were perched photo-perfectly, two front paws up on each leg, happy to share the space. As soon as the camera came out, Lakrids had to be ON my lap, and Little Guy had to be off. It's a giggle.

Repeat after me: I don't *need* another dog. My neighbors had better get home soon.

UPDATE: They got home. Little Guy does belong next door. But I think we'll have some play dates :)

Life update

2007-02-03T18:51:00.000-06:00

The 'boot' is off, YAY! Doc says I am healing well, but I have a few weeks before I can run, jump, use the elliptical machine or basically do anything else fun or healthy. The ankles are still very swollen (and not very pretty), and there's a bit of an ache most of the time, but the doc says I should just get used to that because it's going to be around for a while. Great, eh?

I took in another stray dog today. I think he belongs to the neighbor, although I'm not sure how he got out of the fence, and they're not home to confirm that they are missing him. He's a cute little guy and very affectionate, so his owners had better find him soon because I don't *need* another dog.

Lakrids sort of enjoys having another dog to play with. The two of them romped around the yard for an hour or two this afternoon, and I loved watching them play. Then I gave the little visitor a bath because he was a bit stinky. While I'm writing this, they are both trying to get on my lap. But I don't *need* another dog. One pest is enough!!

X-ray says....

2007-01-11T17:59:00.000-06:00

.... that I'm healing up just fine & won't need any hardware surgically screwed into my bones. *phew!*

Doc also wants me to "wean" off the crutches, which means start trying to get around with just one crutch, then just walk in the boot. In 14 days, I am to be hobbling around without crutches. Meanwhile, I'm allowed to drive, even the manual transmission Mini, as long as the boot doesn't get in the way of the pedals.

Why is it that hearing these words from the Doc makes it *poof* ok to do this stuff? One second after mom dropped me in my driveway, I was in my garage trying out the clutch pedal, then taking the Mini for a spin around the block. An hour earlier, if you had suggested that I do such a thing, I'd have thought you were trying to kill me. Go figure.

I did use both crutches today, until I got home. I figure it makes no sense to hurt myself at work & not be able to drive home. But now that I'm here, I left one crutch at the back door. But after only dealing with the dog & dinner, I'm fixin' to go fetch it. No use overdoing it. But I'm not going to be sorry to see the crutches go back into the closet (forever).

This morning, I picked up a temporary handicap tag so I don't have to hobble the half mile from the parking lot to my office. Instead, I walk about 5 steps. Opening doors is still an interesting issue. Doors are not my friend. The bathroom door at work, in particular, weighs about 20 tons and has a very tight return spring. It has tried to kill me or at least knock down a crutch a number of times, but so far I have managed to sneak past it. The car door also likes to snap at my boot.

Regardless, I'm still me: It was not raining on the way home from work, so the top was down. I'm ok with driving, although I would not wish to take a long road trip or sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic for any period of time.

Mom & dad had a nice giggle at my expense the other night. Mom drove me to the doctor's office Wednesday afternoon. Apparently it tickles my parents to no end that at their age, they are still taking their child to the doctor, rather than the reverse. I suppose at some level I'm tickled, too.

Shoe Shopping

2006-12-29T22:00:00.000-06:00

The Martian thought this was a very funny photo. After some consideration, I decided he is right, even if he is a brat.

Obviously, we made it to the Mall, and yes, the wheelchair was free to use. But not that convenient. The wheelchair/information counter is in the center of the mall on the bottom floor. The mall has entrances in the center as well; one that opens to the parking lot on the second floor, and one that opens to an outdoor promenade of shops on the first floor. To get from the second floor parking lot to the first floor wheelchair lender place, you can hobble with your crutches down to either of two elevators, about evenly spaced 20 miles apart, or you can take your chances on the escalator. Alternatively, you can park out by the outdoor promenade & hobble with your crutches 20 miles up to the Mall. Go ahead and ask me if I think somebody planned out the whole wheelchair thing.

I made it down the escalator alive, and lept into my free wheelchair. Happily, most of the stores we visited were wheelchair accessible. Some -- specifically those aimed at The Martian's pre-teen nieces for whom he needed to buy gifts -- were not. Tsk, tsk.

I did look at shoes. I can't help it: I have the shoe-shopping gene. And anyway, I needed a large shoe (wide & longer than my normal shoes) to fit over the brace on my right foot so I can hobble in rain or cold. I didn't find one in my price range. Wal*Mart had some cheap black sneakers with Velcro closures -- but not in the size I needed. (pout)

So today, in the rain, I wore a fuzzy slipper. It's almost as fashionable as the Boot. I am pretty sure I am going to be on the cover of Vogue very soon.

Colorful feet

2006-12-28T10:03:00.000-06:00

Voila, the colors of New Year celebrations at my house!! That's the outside of the broken ankle, in glorious purples and blues. I'm not sure which hurts more: the ankles, or my hands & armpits from the crutches. This is *so* annoying! But I feel a lot better about my situation after one of the other Miniacs (who broke his ankle in a bicycling accident a couple of years ago) pointed me to mybrokenleg.com. It's hard to keep whining about a simple broken ankle when you read some of the stories of people who have some seriously messed up bones.

Last night, we went to the grocery store for a dog food run, and oh no, I didn't hobble around the Kroger with the critches -- way too much work. Instead, I rode in one of the slick motorized carts they provide for those in need. Which was me, yesterday :) It would have been more fun if The Martian were kinder about "Hey, watch out for that POLE!" every 5 minutes. (No, seriously, The Martian was very good. It was my dad, later, who was wondering if I hit any non-moving objects while driving the cart.)

Doc had said I should ice the ankles at night & heat in the mornings, so this morning The Martian filled my wonderful garden tub with nice, warm water & I soaked my poor self in there for a while. The nice thing about heat in the morning is that the ankles get very stiff overnight & the heat loosened up the one I still need for walking, at least.

The plan for today is to go to the mall & rent a wheelchair. The last time I did this stupid broken ankle thing, the local mall (in Pittsfield, Mass.) had wheelchairs you could use for free -- you just left your driver's license. Not sure whether The Woodlands Mall will consider wheelchair 'loaners' to be a free service or a money-making opportunity. But at least it will get us out of the house.

Owch, Redux

2006-12-27T16:07:00.000-06:00

They talked me into a doctor visit. Left one is broken. Right one is just smacked around.

Doc said if I move the left one in the next two weeks he is going to knock me out and put a screw in it to hold it in place. So I'm not moving.

When I can just sit here with such fashionable footwear, why move?????

Ho, Ho, owch

2006-12-27T10:31:00.000-06:00

The Martian and I have been enjoying the holiday with some old movies, including some favorites suggested by readers here. After Miracle on 34th St, we took in A Christmas Carol (ok, it's not American but what American does not know who Ebenezer Scrooge is, and the phrase, "God bless us, every one"?). To balance the serious stuff with some silly Americana, we found time to watch Talladega Nights, a goofy satire of NASCAR (and F1) that's worth a few good giggles. The Unnamed Male Relative also gave us a collection of Frank Capra films, which we plan to start on, maybe today, since I can't do much besides lie here....

It's been a quiet holiday so far, and so when the Houston Mini Motoring Society came up with the idea to go Karting, the Martian & I decided we wanted to go fast. So we drove out to the southwest side of Houston and met up with six other Miniacs for a bit of fun.

The fun ended for me in the middle of our second qualifying session, when another driver (who did not see me, I think) squeezed me into the wall -- or more accurately, a large, iron pole. Neither the pole nor the kart had nearly enough bumpers, and so in slowing from 15 to 0 mph, the vast bulk of the force transmitted directly to the first possible compression zone: my ankles.

Having smacked a concrete barrier at some 100 mph in a Spec Racer Ford some years ago at Firebird International Raceway, I was familiar with the sensation of an ankle taking a big impact. It is not my favorite feeling in the world. In this case, both ankles immediately began filling with the fluids that the body rushes to such injuries. Lucky me!!

A regimen of RICE (rest-ice-compression-elevation) is keeping the ankles reasonably happy, under the circumstances. The left one is less happy than the right, but I don't think either one is actually broken. I've taken a couple of Advils and slept well through the night.... that's a good sign, in my view. My logic on the doctor thing is, if it's not broken, I'm going to have 3-4 x-rays at $xxx per shot, and a $xxx doctor visit just so they can tell me to do exactly what I'm doing. If it is broken, it will still be broken in 48 hours, which is about when I finally saw an orthopedist (is that a word?) after the last break, so it's no biggie.

The Martian will tell you I'm a lousy sicko. I'm an independent cuss, I hate not being able to do everything myself, and I'll hurt myself rather than ask for help. And I'm grumpy. Not a nice holiday for him right now !!!

Martians, baggage and hair

2006-12-19T19:47:00.000-06:00

So... the Danish Martian has arrived for his semi-annual Christmas visit and donation of luggage to the Travel Gods. The last time he came for Christmas, British Airways lost his luggage. (We think The Grinch stole it.) Thus, when his bag was not on the carousel this time, we knew he was Cursed. However, the curse is broken: A 90-year-old elf showed up at my house at 2 a.m., 2 days after the Martian's flight, bearing the bag, contents intact. It was even almost ok that he woke us from a deep, deep sleep without any prior warning that he might be coming....

So the Martian is here with clothes, a toothbrush & presents!

For our first fun family activity, the Unnamed Male Relative (UMR) was in attendance for Miracle on 34th St in mom & dad's new (awesome) media room. The Martian swears he didn't sleep through the *whole* thing, although the jet lag was getting to him. The UMR has since flown off to Brazil to be a Martian for his sweetheart in Belo Horizonte... but we watched the 'new' Pirates of the Caribbean movie without him. I feel for the heroine in that movie: Who could choose between Orlando Bloom & Johnnny Depp? Yummy!!

As an early Christmas gift, the UMR gave us a Frank Capra movie collection,. which we have not yet watched, although we're working on that now (if only I were not busy writing this nonsense.)

Today's entertainment was a visit to the hair salon. My original plan was to run to the mall for a quick cut, but dad convinced me to do the Salon thing. Thus, the resulting hair is *his* fault.

I figured that a drop-in, with no appointment, at a nice salon would be unlikely, but to my surprise they had just had a cancellation and *poof* I was in. The Martian had also wanted his hair cut but didn't think he needed a 'stylist,' so he headed to the Mall to leave me for coloring & cutting. The stylist asked me whether I wanted to match the lighter ends of my hair, and I said no, I wanted to match the more natural, darker brown. So he mixed a color, painted it on, and you know the rest.

The Martian's reaction to the result, a couple of hours later: "Hmm. I am surprised you made it so dark."

It's not brown by any stretch of the imagination. It's black. I look like a freakin' vampire. A wicked witch. But with lots of curls. OK, it's funny in a "wow, you got a cute haircut, but what were you thinking on that color choice?" way.

The good news: Color fades. The bad news: When it fades first on the 'silver' parts of my hair, I'm going to have NEON gray showing.

Playing with the Mac :)

2006-12-10T11:33:00.000-06:00

Macs are fun :) See Plasq for more information about the ComicLife software I used to make this little window into my day. I can't seem to convince Blogger to publish it big enough to read it on my screen, but if you click on the image, it will open as a larger (i.e., readable) image.

(Yes, there's a fire in the fireplace. It's freakin' cold here. The Martian -- who is due here on Friday -- reports that it's colder in Houston than in Denmark. That just ain't right.)

I'm still playing with the 30 days of free trial on the Comic Life, but it is fun so far:

Certifiable? Indeed

2006-11-03T18:05:00.000-06:00

The final exam for Fundamentals of XXX Engineering is scheduled as a three-hour ordeal with some wiggle room before lunch for those who might "need a little extra time."

The instructor warned us that the first part of the test would be closed-book covering a particular diagram he handed out on the first day of class. "You might well find it useful to memorize that diagram," he said several times over the course of the week.

I have this "thing" about memorization. It cost me a couple of letter grades in chemistry, because I just never quite saw the point of memorizing a chart that I could just as easily hang on the wall over my desk and refer to it as needed. If you use something day in & day out, you will slowly memorize the useful bits and refer back to the rest, right? It's not laziness; it's just that I prefer to fill my limited number of active brains cells with useful things.

And so I looked at the diagram, allowed the concepts behind the diagram to fill some of my brain cells, and went to bed early (while my classmates were out cramming for the final. Yeah, sure: They were out being 21-year-olds.)

I finished the final in about an hour; call me an over-achiever. The "memorization' part was simply a matter of matching words to picture, rather than actually having to come up with the words from a blank slate. And so I was extremely glad I had not wasted a lot of time trying to memorize anything. The remainder of the test was fairly straightforward, with about 10 questions I had to answer with a SWAG (Scientific Wild-Ass Guess).

In the end, I missed four, thus passing the course. Not bad for a gal without an engineering degree. My success was apparently of great interest to the other engineering instructors; it seems they'd never had a non-engineer in one of these classes before. And thus, my progress was a curiosity, like the dancing elephant: It's not so much that the elephant can dance well, but that it can dance at all. Happily, I managed to dance quite adequately, thus opening the doors for other non-engineers who might have some interest in these classes and for myself to expand into other Fundamentals.

The company does a cool thing with certificates for these classes. A photographer comes in one day during class and shoots a group photo, which then becomes the background for your certificate of completion. It's a cool thing, and I've hung it proudly on the whiteboard in my office. I'll look for a nice frame this weekend. Yeah, I'm certifiable... and certified.

And, dangit, I'm very proud that I took a step outside of my 'comfort zone' in the right brain to spend some time in the scary left brain. It was well worth the trip -- but I am very glad I don't have to live there all the time.

Pushing and pulling

2006-11-02T20:33:00.000-06:00

Another day of class is past, and I learn a little more every day. Some of what I learn is actually about XXX Engineering. Other educational lessons are about people, my employer's policies and what makes engineers 'tick.'

Fundamentals of XXX Engineering is just one small part of a series of courses my employer offers to its baby engineers. The gang of young-uns in my class are mostly fresh from university. They are, as I mentioned yesterday, from all over the world, including a few countries that did not yet exist when I was their age. (Scary)

They are part of my employer's effort to hire these kids out of school, before some competitor or big oil company notices that they are breathing. (The oil industry is a hot place to be right now.) Their studies are part of an 8-month "boot camp" of sorts, teaching them all about the different jobs they might do with my employer, and teaching them the basics of engineering for each of 10 or so various job categories.

The classes for each specialty comprise four days of instruction and one long final exam. On each instruction day after the first day, there is also a "quiz," so as of today we've had three tests, and tomorrow (Friday) we'll have our final exam. To "pass" the class, you must have either an 80% average on all four tests, or 80% on the final itself.

The foreign students note that if they fail two of these Fundamentals of XYZ Engineering courses, they are sent home & probably lose their jobs. So they are very intense about their tests. Furthermore, there is a rumor of a prize: If you get 100% on all four tests in a class, you get a jacket embroidered with the word "ACE." No one in this group has seen one, and several of the most competitive guys are extremely eager to be the first to earn one.

Many classmates -- expecially the non-native English speakers -- find the tests very difficult because the teacher has tried to be 'tricky' with the questions. He uses sentence structures like, "True or false: The bubbles in Coke are not a factor in pushing the straw out of the can." So you have to determine the truthiness or falsiness of a "not," which is hard even for native English speakers. (It's hard enough to do this stuff without some teacher messing with words just to try to confuse you, right?)

His standard answer to student queries about test questions all week has been, "What does the question say? Read it carefully." This, today, was his downfall as one word girl and some engineering guys all answered what the question asked, rather than what he 'meant' to ask....

Today's test assessed our ability to plug numbers into my employer's wicked-cool XXX modeling software and produce other numbers. Basically, one question asked, "if you stick a straw into a Coke bottle, how hard can you push on the straw before it bends?" The teacher wanted the answer to be a negative number beause we were pushing down; we argued that 'push' isn't the right technical term for what he wanted, so our positive answer was quite correct.

Anyway, the point is not that this silly argument 'raged' for 15 minutes of class time before we won it, but rather the fact that all of us who argued have 95+ averages in the class, and missing one question doesn't affect our 'grade' one whit. And there are no jackets on the line because everybody missed at least one question on the very first test. Go figure. And don't even try to suggest that we just like to argue. ;)

School Daze

2006-11-01T20:46:00.000-06:00

This week and next, I'm taking a class for work. It's a cool thing when your employer pays you to expand your mind. This week, the expansion is Fundamentals of XXX Engineering. The XXX is a useful and interesting oilfield technology that is a key part of my employer's business and which I write about pretty much every day but have not understood as well as I'd like.

So I'm in a classroom this week with 15 or so young engineers from around the world, and with widely varying command of the English language. I have a huge amount of respect for people who can do this sort of technical work and reading in a non-native language. I have enough trouble with it in my own language.

My last science class was about 1980. Go ahead and do the math there, if you can remember how: 2006 - 1980 = long enough to forget all the calculus you had to have to get through Intro to Physics. Now calculate the volume (in barrels) of fluid you'd need to fill a 4-1/2-in.-diameter, 9,000-ft-deep gas well (and that's the simplified well without all the other stuff inside of it). You now have some sense of my struggle this week. These equations are, as the instructor notes, "pretty basic math." Unfortunately, I have not used much math since college, except for the occasional glance at Quicken to see whether there is still money in my checking account. I mean, who remembers how to calculate the volume of a cylinder, except maybe Pepsi bottling engineers?

Classes this week run from 8:30 til whenever we're done, and all day long the instructor is stuffing our brains with information, explanations and oilfield stories. I'm technically auditing the course, so I don't have to take the daily tests -- but I do because I feel like tests are part of the learning process. For the "kids" in the class, their grades on the tests greatly affect their future with the company; for me, a grade is just an acknowledgement that yeah, ok, I get it. And yet, I stress over these things, just like I always did for 'real' tests. Go figure.

Amazingly, although I do nothing but sit on my butt all day long in the classroom (and eat too many cookies on our hourly breaks...), I am exhausted. My brain is unaccustomed to this level of workout, which means it's probably a good thing and a potential ward against senility (or a cause of senility, depending on how you look at it). However, I'm going to wait and sign up for Fundamentals of YYY Engineering after my brain recovers from this onslaught.

Next week, I have a management course: My employer is a "Seven Habits Company," so we all learn about Stephen Covey's theories on balancing life & work, etc. Compared with this week's crash course in "why you didn't finish that science degree you started," it should be a gas.

Speaking of gas, I'm procrastinating (ooh, baaaad thing according to 7 Habits) on my Engineering homework to determine whether XXX can plop a cement plug safely in that aforementioned gas well. Oh, did I forget to mention that every day after 8 hours of classroom instruction we also have reading & modeling homework? My brain hurts.

A little visitor

2006-10-28T23:45:00.000-05:00

Had a nice birthday dinner with mom & dad tonight, then went over to Dad's House o' Movies to watch a movie of my choosing. Birthday girl gets to pick.

Mom & I went this afternoon to run some errands (buy me birthday presents YAY!) and check out Blockbuster's selection. It reminded me why I rarely bother to go rent a movie. I would have liked to see Over the Hedge, but it was out of stock. The Break Up would also have been a good choice, but -- yeah you guessed it -- out of stock. By the time we were thinking about our fifth and sixth choice for movies, I thought, "This is dumb. Why not just look at something I already have at home?"

See, when I bought my (at the time) huge 52-in. tv, I went a little crazy and bought some movies. This would have been, oh, two years ago or so. And I still have not watched some of them. Like tonight's ultimate birthday movie choice: Gladiator.

OK, I know you're thinking like my mom, "Gladiator is sort of bloody for a birthday movie." But I can look past the blood because, nod with me ladies, Russell Crowe is a hottie. Sensitive, heroic, tragic, sweaty, manly hunk o' meat. Oh, and there's also some tasty little allegorical flourishes, something about a fella who is trying (badly) to follow in his daddy's footsteps but not noticing the masses slowly slipping away and hungry for a new hero....

Anyway, after a couple of hours of blood, gore and prurient hunkonomics, I came home to find a little black and white critter chasing me up the driveway, up the sidewalk, right to the front door. I RAN inside, thinking it was a skunk, probably rabid. But no, it was a little dog thing. Well, one of those small yapping things that people call dogs, but which are actually closer to cats than dogs. Being a total anti-small-dog person, I left it out on the porch. Then the angel voice whispered, "Do unto that doggie as you would have its owner do unto your dog if it ever digs a hole under the fence and runs around the neighborhood." (sigh)

So I brought it inside & it did have a tag. Now, understand, it's after 11 (not counting Daylight Savings change), but as before, I thought if my dog were missing & I had been looking for it for the last 3 hours, I'd be frantic and waiting by the phone. So I called the phone number on the tag. The woman who answers is at a party & can barely hear me. Better yet, it turns out that 1) she didn't know the dog was missing, 2) she is quite a ways away from here, and 3) the dog is supposed to be with her daughter, who is staying with her dad (this woman's ex) this weekend in my neighborhood. Oh boy. Anyway, someone will come for the dog.

A minute later, another little voice is calling me back. It's the daughter, and she is just in the next block so they will be at the house in 2 shakes. Everybody is very apologetic about bothering me, but meanwhile, Lakrids and this little cat-dog thing are scampering happily around the house as if they have been best pals forever. Lakrids is fairly fascinated that the other critter can jump basically straight up in the air without any running start. This earns the little dog thing the right to drink from Lakrids' water bowl. Soon thereafter, the gal shows up for the dog, and everyone lives happily ever after.

Except... Blogger doesn't seem to want to publish blog changes today. So You may not read this entry until next week. Ah well.

So many movies....

2006-10-28T08:30:00.000-05:00

What a great list of movies we have on the list! The Martian notes that he has seen a number of them and has 'heard of' most. Some of them, I hadn't even heard of, so it will be fun to look them up.

The funny thing is that seeing the list was like seeing a list of favorite music. Just seeing/hearing/thinking the name of the movie (or song) evokes some memory of where you were, who you were when you first saw it, or how you felt after you saw it.

Some of those "Great American Movies" are films that I saw in history classes. The older movies made you *feel* something: Pride, often; shame, sometimes, or maybe just a wish that the world was not such a cruel place. Even when a movie ends with ET waving good-bye and promising he'll always he in a little boy's heart, you wish, you wish, you wish the world had not chased him away. You wish nobody ever had a reason to make American History X or Birth of a Nation. You wish the world were a different place. So we make movies where we may struggle a bit, and some may not live to see it, but in the end, everybody lives happily ever after.

I like our optimism.

Blockbuster has extended my "Rewards" membership for six months, free! Because I'm such a good customer (who has not rented a movie in ... a long time). This special add-on to a normal Blockbuster membership gets you one free movie a month and then some specials for rent-one-get-x-free and some other random, occasional discounts. When the Danish hordes descended on my house last summer, it was a great deal because everybody seemed to like to watch movies in the evenings. But I don't really watch all that many movies alone.

However, the 'media room' in mom & dad's new house, with its 92-in. high-definition monster screen and leather recliners with cup-holders, is pretty awesome. And as long as I bring over a new movie every time I visit, I might be able to avoid seeing "Top Gun" for the 200th time....

Movies that Made Americans the Way We Are

2006-10-22T09:27:00.000-05:00

You could argue that movies are the real Great American Medium. More than television, we export our movies around he globe, dubbed and subtitled into a gazillion languages and spreading American idiom and values (or lack thereof) to the world.

American movies are so ubiquitous in Europe that it always surprises me when The Martian has not seen some movie that I consider a classic that helped shape Americans into what we are. Upon consideration, it probably shouldn't surprise me because most of those 'classics' were made before we were born, or before cable TV and the media octopus had extended its international reach to every corner of the Earth.

This subject returned last week when mom and a couple of gals came over to (finally) see the house and then go out for dinner (cook? Oh no, not me). At dinner, one of the gals was talking about Old Yeller, and we had a small discussion about whether it's an appropriate movie for children. One of the gals said it teaches a lot about Americans: We can overcome losses and get on with our lives, start over. Just put your pain behind you and move on.

And so I brought it up with The Martian -- who had not seen the movie but sort of vaguely knew it was about a dog, and something bad happens to the dog. Thus was born the need for a List of Movies That Made Americans the Way We Are

The list started a few trips ago, when we saw The Wizard of Oz. I had not seen it for some decades, and, to be perfectly honest, does not age well against modern movies and special effects. I remember it as being awe-inspiring and scary, followed by bad dreams about flyng monkeys for weeks. But Dorothy was so brave and honest and true, and ah, there *is* no place like home.

The Unnamed Male Relative introduced The Martian to his second great American classic, "It's a Wonderful Life." There isgood George, taking care of people without a smidgen of greed in his soul, and yet the nasty, mean banker prospers. But in the end, George shows him: It's all about people. There's no place like home, after all. (Ignore the fact that nowadays George would still go to jail or at least be pilloried in the media and right-wing blogs. Similarly, think about "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" in a modern context... Is the innocent "Happy Ending" extinct?)

Others on my list, which The Martian has already seen: Independence Day and its funny relative, Mars Attacks (American ingenuity always wins, yay us!); Citizen Kane (which neither of us particularly liked); and the original Psycho (don't want to think about the values we learned there...)

With The Martian heading here Dec. 15, it's time to start making a list of classics he should see in case of inclement weather. Old Yeller is on the list, as is a classic Daniel Boone film (a family thing because our ancestry charts go through Boone). He can't remember whether he's seen Miracle on 34th Street, so we'll probably catch that on TV.

As parameters for the list, let's aim for American movies -- e.g., Lord of the Rings could be considered a classic that teaches important values, but it's not very 'American.' Let's also aim for movies that are widely known: I'd argue that "Brother From Another Planet" *should* be a classic, but I don't know anybody else who has seen it, so it doesn't count. And finally, let's look for a variety of 'values' and time periods.

So... what does The Martian need to see to understand what makes us Americans??

Weather Delay

2006-10-16T07:19:00.000-05:00

The alarm clock woke me with one of those typical Houston weather forecasts today: Rain, street flooding, etc. The radar picture is bleak, and so I began the search for the two umbrellas I *know* I had at my previous house. I had found one a couple of weeks ago, and I remember thinking, "I should put this somewhere safe." I can't find it, which means I probably took it to the office and put it somewhere safe *there.* Which will not help me walk from the car to the office. (sigh) Thus, I'll wear my extremely lovely & fashionable (but amazingly waterproof) Gore-Tex to work today.

It's been raining off & on since yesterday, and overnight and this morning we have received some hella heavy rain. The very distressing thing about the rain is that it makes me close the Mini's top, and the Mini is really a topless kind of gal. Since I got her in May, I've driven with the top closed fewer than 10 times -- more like six. It was a very dry summer, and Mother Nature is apparently going to make it up by giving us a wet fall. I'm feeling good about having cleaned the gutters.

I leave the house for work at 7:00 a.m. Today I headed out at 6:55 a.m. to give me a few extra minutes for the rain. Before I put the convertible top up, I went out to empty a 10-in.-tall metal pot that's home to a couple of last year's poinsettia plants. Typically on a rainy day it fills with 1 to 2 in. of rain (because I am too lazy to drill holes in the bottom). I emptied it yesterday just before dinner. This morning it was full to overflowing.

While I was emptying the water, I saw some cars down on the neighborhood road where I turn to get out of my cul-de-sac. They seemed to be driving unusually slowly, and I was thinking negative thoughts about people who overcompensate for a little rain by driving so slowly.

Thus, I jumped in Sunny, closed her top and headed out into the wilds. About two houses down (literally) the street, I saw why everybody was driving so slowly. The intersection is a bit flooded. Up-over-the-curbs flooded. Up-higher-than-the-Mini-wishes-to-swim-today flooded. Put-the-Mini-in-reverse-and-go-back-to-the-warm-dry-house flooded.

When I lived in Arizona, we had gully-washer storms during "monsoon season." They would come out of nowhere and dump some ungodly amount of water in a short time, creating some heavy flooding that would go away after an hour or so. Everybody with a brain knew not to drive onto a flooded section of road, because you never quite knew how deep it might be. And yet, every rain storm, there would be footage of a brave rescue of some moron from the car they drove into a flooded road section because they could not wait 60 minutes for the water to go down.

The fun thing you learn about Arizona, tho, is that they turn around and mail those idiots a bill for the cost of the rescue. I love that: You were stupid? You pay for it. Then maybe you won't do it again, and maybe you will tell your dumb friends not to do it, either.

My momma didn't raise no dummies. Thus, it is 7:35 and I'm still home, waiting for the water in the street to get below the Mini's bumper.

Addendum: We had a lull in the rain just after I finished writing. By 8, the street was clear, so I got out just fine. I hope I can get home.... Oh, and my office is a ghost town: They can't get through the flooded streets!

Minding the Gutter

2006-10-08T10:17:00.000-05:00

Since I moved in here, I have been pretty sure that my neighbor on one side has his 'mind in the gutter' altogether too much. I don't mean he's a dirty old man, but rather that he seems to be on his roof twice a month cleaning the pine needles & leaves off the shingles & out of the gutters. I've surmised that he likes it up there because it gives him a good view of everybody else's backyard, but he does always seem to be actively working and not just spying when he's up there.

I moved here because I love the trees, but I do appreciate the downside of trees, especially in fall. When we did the inspection on the house, it was clear that the gutters needed some attention, but I didn't think they were so bad as to require 'cleaning the gutters' as a condition of moving in. And they were not a high priority fix, which is why I ignored them until yesterday.

We finally have a real fall weekend here, with low temperatures in the low 60s and highs 'just' in the mid-80s and humidity around 50% (compared with the usual mid-90s and 90%. This may sound like 'summer' to those in heat-challenged climates, but trust me, it's quite cool here, which has the added value of keeping the skeeters away.

So after totally wearing out the dog, I decided cleaning the gutters would be a good, useful activity that would allow me to continue to enjoy the great day. I grabbed the ladder, some gloves and a determined look, and headed up onto the roof.

I'm not afraid of heights/ladders, but that transition from the ladder onto the roof is a mental challenge. I also don't much like critters crawling on me or goo on my hands. But hey, I dug in.

Having never done this before, I don't know how much gunk accumulates in an average gutter per year, but if what I found was a mere year's worth of gunk, then I begin to understand my fastidious neighbor. Because I'm pretty sure that water has not actually flowed in any of these gutters at least since I bought the house and probably much longer than that.

That said, I have a wonderful pile of the most gorgeous mulch any gardener ever made. Because essentially, the gutters were a long, tubular compost heap.

I also have a new appreciation for the guys who do this for a living. Although I did not encounter any crawling critters, I did have to sidle up some fairly steep -- even for Monkey Girl here -- roof sections to clean off accumulations on the shingles. I also had to engineer a solution to reach the gutters on the front of the house, since the gorgeous landscaping & huge tree/bush things pretty much don't leave a lot of room for such plebian concerns as ladders and gutter cleaning. (This would be, I think, the reason those front gutters were totally packed with silt: Nobody could get to them.)

Science Update + Bonus Adventure

2006-10-01T09:02:00.000-05:00

OK, its a little blurry and sort of dark, but you can see the aftermath of the convertible experiment. I tried taking a couple of those shots where you just hold the camera in front of your face and hope for the best, but the flash was so bright you couldn't even see there was sunburn.

The most surprising development of the experiment is that I have not peeled. Based on extensive experimental evidencew from my childhood, I expected that to start pretty much immediately. Apparently old skin reacts differently to such abuse?

Nearly as surprising: Much of the burned area is still tender four days later. (pout) The edge of my neck itches/burns like crazy, and the formerly very white insides of my arms still sting quite a bit. But mostly the burn has turned into what appears to be a very dark tan. Go figure.

Today's bonus adventure, though, was not sunburn-related. I opened the door to let the dog in after her morning toilette, and a little toad decided to come along. Brave dog that she is, Lakrids looked up at me and said, "Uh, is that a toy or is it something scary? I'm not touching it until it stops bouncing around and lets me sniff its butt." After one trip around the kitchen island, the poor little amphibian decided he would accept my kind offer of a ride on the kitchen spatula back out into the rainforest/backyard.

The little visitor and my reaction to him (it must be a male, barging in where he is not wanted...) made me think about critter-visitors, in general. I'm very gentle with lizards & toads because I think of them as bug-eaters. I am not at all gentle or patient with Periplaneta americana or her annoying relatives.

(Note: See on that photo where it purports to show you 'actual size' at about 1-3/4 inches? In real life when they are staring you down from a corner of the bathroom floor, they are about 6 inches long with scary fangs dripping poison and blood from their previous victims. This may be a brain-induced exaggeration, but I'm pretty sure all female Texans see exactly the same thing in that situation; even my female Texan dog will not go near a roach in defensive stance.)

With frogs & lizards, I have a sort of "live & let live" philosophy. Same with spiders. If they don't crawl on me, they are free to go about their skeeter-eating. (Even in Arizona, where the spiders are as big as your head, occasionally eat small children & can poison you with a sidelong glance, I never had a problem with them.) But with roaches, there is but one possible philosopy: Live & Let Flip-Flop. The flip-flop is not only a fine utilitarian shoe, but since I typically have at least one pair in any given room of the house, they also are useful and produce a very satisfying *SPLUT* when they contact a cockroach body at an appropriately high rate of impact.

But we had no roaches today, just a cute, scared little toad, who is now back in the yard -- or perhaps by now already a little brunch-bite for some big bird. (sigh)

Convertible Science

2006-09-27T19:12:00.000-05:00

Let's have a little science experiment, shall we? Let's mix a business trip to San Antonio with a Mini Cooper convertible, warm weather and clear skies. Add one idiot behind the wheel, crank up the iPod, and have her leave San Antonio to return to Houston at 11 a.m. so she is in the bright sunshine for the entire peak UV time of day. Got the scenario? Notice anything important missing from our experiment, like, maybe, sunscreen?

Now, let's theorize about the results of this experiment. Which of the following will result:
a) Sunburn
b) Severe sunburn
c) Extremely painful sunburn
d) Extremely attractive raccoon-eye sunburn pattern on nose/cheeks
e) High likelihood of future peeling and itching
f) All of the above

Owch!

Newsy Chat

2006-08-28T21:10:00.000-05:00

The work on the house continues with new draperies in the living room and a huge load of junk... i mean useful stuff foisted off.... i mean 'donated' to Freecyclers in the area here.

Meanwhile, I have had some spare time & found that I really like to comment on blogs that talk about news stories. So I thought, "why wait for someone else to blog the good stories?" Thus, Smukke-Speak was born.

I'll continue to post here about 'adventures' and my personal life. But my thoughts on what's happening out in the crazy world... that's all for Smukke-Speak.

Makin' dough

2006-08-10T20:21:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time, I bought my dad a bread-making machine. I thought he might enjoy having a gadget that did something fun & easy. As I understand it, he used it 2-3 times, then set it in a corner to gather dust. Now, mom & dad have sold their house in preparation of moving into a new one they're building, and they are trying to be good about throwing away stuff they have not used in more than 10 years. Thus, the bread machine has come to be at my house.

Calling a device a "bread machine" makes it sound as foolproof and easy as a "coffee machine" or a "vending machine." You put something in the machine, and you get some other intended thing out of the machine.

Unfortunately, the bread machine is not a coffee machine. If you put the ingredients in it and set the timer so you have hot, homemade bread first thing in the morning, you may well wake up with an overwhelming smell of oh so ymmy bread, only to find that what is in the bread machine is a lump of bread-like stone.

"Yeast," mom tells me, "is the culprit."

Bread is not coffee. It is not chocolate chip cookies, and it is definitely not a frozen chicken pot pie that you can pop in the microwave for 5 minutes & eat up. That's because it contains yeast, a mystical substance that thinks I keep my house too warm and Houston, in general, is too humid. Only under exactly perfect conditions will it deign to rise, and then only if you praise it lavishly for doing so. Thus, forget about letting it stew all night alone.

As with most good stories, this one is a bit of an exaggeration. My first loaf of bread from The Thing was small but tasted pretty darned good. The loaf that's in there now smells like heaven but doesn't appear to have risen worth beans. In another hour, I will know whether I have a rock or a loaf of yummy-bread.

The way I see it, the bread machine is just a technological reminder that we are somehow less capable than our forebears. My great-great-great-etc grandmothers baked bread in ordinary ovens. Or over campfires. Or on rocks. They gave birth without epidurals, and they washed clothes in the river. I have a "bread machine," a grocery store full of fresh live yeast packets, yeast boosters and 'bread mix" boxes. I live in an air-conditioned house with electricity and running water. But I can't make the lazy dang yeast rise up off the couch.

The bread does smell good, tho. Mmmmmmm!

ADDENDUM: The photo is the actual bread. It did rise into a happy little loaflet and it is not hard as a rock. Whaddya know? My ancestresses got nuthin' on me!

Tax-Free Chaos

2006-08-06T09:20:00.000-05:00

This weekend is Tax-Free Weekend in Texas. Apparently this happens every first weekend in August, as the state graciously agrees not to collect sales tax on clothing to encourage parents to boost the economy by buying new school duds for the kiddies. Most stores add to the savings (and the lure to the mall) by putting everything on sale.

The nice thing is that it applies to parents & even singles like me. The catch is, that you have to get up at 0-dark-thirty if you want to avoid the chaos of a million mommies with 2.3 unleashed kids each.

So I was at the mall early enough that there were still parking spots in my 'favorite' parking section. I have a Speed-Shopping technique that basically involves taking one of everything presentable, and trying it on. I'm very happy to say that none of the stories I shopped today had any crazy ideas about "limit x items per fitting room," because there's pretty much no way I could have accommodated that sort of limit in my Speed-Shopping technique.

The technique usually results in purchasing about half of what you try on, because that's about the fraction that actually looks as good on a lumpy human being as it does on a hanger. Having arrived at the store fairly early, I managed to get checked out with no line, no waiting. (Cha-ching! There goes $300.) However, I had such a large bag of goodies that I didn't want to carry it over to the next store in the mall, so I went out to the car in the now-full parking lot where a line of cars followed me as I walked, hoping to snag my parking spot. But I wasn't leaving... just loading the trunk...

At the next store, I managed to find another pile of "needed" clothes; then I found a lovely Brighton belt (ok, that one was a special treat). At one store I tried on a lot but bought nothing because I could not justify buying any $89 items (not on sale!) when I had just filled my bags with complete outfits for less than that. Plus, some of their cutest items were more than $100 -- thus not qualifying for the tax-free deal. Go figure: I'm a cheapskate! Anyway, I'll watch for those items now in the store's outlet.

I have promised myself that the result of this trip will be a closet-cleaning of all the stuff that I have moved 2x from New York and then Phoenix because "I might need it in my next real job." Mom brilliantly points out that in Houston it's unlikely I will need the 30 heavy wool sweaters that I have stubbornly refused to give up "because I love them." And since I have not had to wear a suit for any reason since I started here, I can probably Freecycle most of those, even tho they are "pretty" and "expensive to replace."

Anybody have any other favorite excuses for not getting rid of stuff that you have not worn for 10 years? heh

By the way, my maid, Ruby (the Roomba), has vacuumed 2 rooms of the house while I've been writing this. Seriously, I love this thing.

Just a small brag

2006-08-01T17:40:00.000-05:00

I'm vacuuming my excellent new floor & rugs while I am typing this. Or, rather, my Roomba is vacuuming while I type. This morning, it did one half of the wood floor space while I was in the shower. Now it's doing the rest. This is the coolest toy EVER.

I'm thinking that maybe my Roomba needs a name. Feel free to offer ideas. Meanwhile, I realize I have never offered up a photo of my not-so-new Mini Cooper (purchased in May -- oh it's ancient, right?) and so ... here she is. She does have her personalized license plates now: Sunny 6. (Texas only lets you have six characters, and someone already had just plain "Sunny.' Go figure. One of these days if she can stay clean long enough, I need to take a picture of her with the plates. The problem with keeping her clean is that Mini brake dust is apparently extremely attracted to Mini wheels, and they are always dirty, dirty, dirty!

Here's another view of Sunny with all her Mini pals, at a Houston Mini Motorists' Society meeting at a go-kart track. The place was very cool & let us drive our Minis in for photos before we did some good, competitive karting. Did I not ever write about how much fun we had there? (It would have been fun even if I had not won my races...)

Floor!

2006-07-30T08:36:00.000-05:00

Fireplace and reading room with old floor

Fireplace and reading room while they are still working

Fireplace and reading room after mom & the dog have gotten comfortable with the new floor & rug!

TV space & cool front window with the old floor

TV space and cool front window with the new floor & rug

When I look at these pictures in the preview mode of blogger, I realize it's hard to see the difference in colors between the floors. The old floor was very light and didn't look very much like "wood"; this is more rich & cherry-stained with more realistic graining and wood color variations. Maybe this photo shows it best, although I didn't copy over a similar one of the 'before':

Entry to the house with the new, darker floor

I'm thrilled with it :) I'm still mad at Home Depot for making me wait two months for it without any communication, but I'm happy that it's finally in. The installers that Home Depot subcontracted did a great job & were very professional, and that part, at least, went great.

I have a Floor!!!!

2006-07-29T22:16:00.000-05:00

Without some photographic explanation, you will not understand how excited I am about having my new floor installed. Therefore, I open with the part that makes you say, "And you paid money for that house?!" Yes, the floor was a mess. The previous owner had installed it in hopes that it would gussy up the place for sale. Bummer that -- should have actually followed the installation instructions. (The empty boxes are there to keep the dog's paws & my toes from getting pinched between the pieces of laminate. Nice, eh?)

I won't go into the specifics of the problems, but suffice it to say that the floor was a mess. Not only that, but it was ... cheap. The seller did offer to have it repaired, but I said oh no, you just discount the house & then I can install what *I* want. So that's how it happened that I've been waiting since the end of May to have a floor.

On Friday morning, the guys from Sunshine Flooring -- subcontractors for Home Depot -- showed up to rip out the nasty, cheap laminate and install my pretty new floor (still laminate, but pretty and definitely not cheap). I was at work during this segment of the festivities, but mom reports that they had a jolly old time tearing it out.

What you really want to know is, is the new stuff beautiful?? Well, of course it is. More pix to come.

Floor update

2006-07-25T17:51:00.000-05:00

The delivery dude for Home Depot showed up with a load of flooring on Saturday morning. (Not exactly between noon and dark, but I'm ok with it because it's HERE!) Unfortunately, it looked as if part of the delivery had not arrived.

I called Monday to find out about the missing stuff and scheduling the install, and I got more run-around: "Well, we can't even think about scheduling installation until we know you have everything. But the person who is in charge of deliveries is busy loading a truck so I will have to call you back." (sigh) No one called on Monday.

However, apparently on Tuesday morning they called mom (she thinks they like her local phone number better than my metro-Phoenix area code) to talk about the delivery and convince 'me' that I got everything. It's all there, inside those boxes somewhere, they assured mom.

So she had to come over to the house to look. Part of it she found, and part she did not find so she called them back -- and they hung up on her three times. This, of course, made her very, very happy, and she stormed off to the store to speak to a human. At the store, a human showed her what the 'missing' parts looked like, and yes, of course they were all mixed in with other parts that looked just like them.

So, with everything confirmed, mom managed to get a human being to actualy commit to coming to the house on Friday to rip out this nasty mess of improperly installed (by the previous owner) cheap flooring and come back Saturday to install my gorgeous new, sweet-looking floor.

Believe it? I guess we will find out this weekend!

Let's get ready to Roooomba!!

2006-07-21T17:37:00.000-05:00

The dog thinks it is a scary space alien, but I find the Roomba just way too much fun. How can you not love a vacuum cleaner that 1) works by itself while you play comptuer games, paint the bedroom, sew a table skirt, create a scrapbook page, play with the dog, etc., and 2) Even gets underneath the furniture where the icky bugs and dust bunnies hide??

So far so good on the picking up dog hair, etc.; I did already empty the cassette twice but in fairness to the machine, it's (ahem) been a while since I vacuumed in here.

By the way, there is news on the new flooring front: It's supposed to be delivered tomorrow "between noon and dark." No word on installation, but since the flooring has to sit & stew in my typically humid Houston-area home for at least 72 hours, I can still hope to have a new floor sometime next week -- and maybe to unpack all the living/dining room boxes before August (maybe). [Note in lower picture of Roomba under the furniture that it is still wrapped in plastic, waiting for the new floor before we unwrap.]

One of these days I need to remember to take some pictures of the bad spots on the old floor. Not sure how I'm gonna do that, but it needs doing.

Woot! It's a Roomba!

2006-07-20T19:27:00.000-05:00

OK, I was wandering around the Houston Chronicle website the other day and stumbled across a tech blog that talked about a website called Woot. Best I can describe it is "think Fry's Electronics with only one item per day."

Anyway, the item for that day was a Roomba. It's a little robotic vacuum thing that -- as with Woot, I've heard about, read about and considered but never bought. Well, what caught my attention this time were two reviews of the thing: One said it's great for people with dogs because it picked up dog hair like mad. The other said it's great for hardwood and laminate floors. I got that.... And the price was right... so I Wooted!

My Roomba arrived today and because it's electronic you know the drill: Plug it in for XX hours before first use. So it's charging. Tomorrow before I go to work, I get to see if it makes the dog totally nuts. Oh and also whether it does a good job of cleaning.

Pix of the Renovation!

2006-07-17T18:48:00.000-05:00

..

Master Bedroom, looking toward Master Bathroom
Before.........................................After
The "after" wall color is more correct on the photos below. You know how the camera flash & other stuff affects the color of the image...

..

Master Bedroom looking away from the Master Bathroom
Before.....................................................................After
(what you can't see in the "before" photo are the spots where the home seller tried to 'touch up' the walls to cover nail holes... with the wrong color paint.)

.. ..
Master Bathroom
Before..............................After

..
New draperies (sorry, I didn't take any Before photos but they were PINK -- EEK!)
Master Bathroom..............Master Bedroom

Mom on ladder, sponge-painting the bathroom

Stuff before I paint

2006-07-17T17:32:00.000-05:00

I have one more small section of painting to finish (up in the soffit, ugh!), but before I do that, I just need to clear my brain a bit:

-- I don't understand why everybody is so annoyed with iTunes. I have it, and I listen to music purchased through iTunes all the time, in my car even. One way to do this is the way that Apple most wishes us to do so: buy an iPod. I have one and an FM transmitter gizmo that lets me listen to music through my normal car radio. The transmittter works better in the Mini than it did in the Camaro, either because of the location of the antenna or the age of the vehicle... Anyway, I could also buy an adapter for my car radio to plug the iPod right in as if it were a multi-CD box, but since the FM transmitter works great, I haven't bothered to do that -- yet. Another way to listen to my iTunes-purchased music in my car is -- duh -- burn a CD. That would make it just like every other music-purchase service on the planet. If I prefered to use some other means of listening to my music -- say, some off-brand mp3 player, I could even (gasp) rip the CD I burned from iTunes, and have perfectly usable mp3 files. Some wag will suggest that they can tell the difference between first- and second-generation copies of the music. I say those people who can tell the difference probably are not shopping on iTunes to get music all squished by Apple's proprietary compression scheme. So can someone explain what's the fuss here?

-- The US Surgeon General has finally noted something that children of smokers have known since forever: second-hand smoke makes people sick. Oh, and I saw another smoking-related story today about how quitting smoking can relieve symptoms of asthma. I'm sorry but I don't see how this could possibly be news to anyone. What I really want to know is, we have a dangerous DRUG that obviously harms people's health, and yet, we do not include it on our list of controlled substances. I don't get it. No, I do get it, but to me, the arguments for keeping cigarettes legal are very much the same as the ones for letting illegal aliens stay in the US: It would be too hard to stop it now that it's happening, so we will just talk about it a lot and hope it goes away. Right.

-- CNN Money says The Woodlands, TX, is #73 in the Best Places to Live. Their #1 choice, some place in Colorado, has crime statistics suggesting that just thinking about the city gets you robbed. How is that good?? Apparently people are willing to have a high likelihood of becoming a crime statistic, in return for a 15-minute commute. I don't get it, myself.

-- When I am done with this last dab of painting, I would like to go see Johnny Depp prance around in a pirate costume. Who's with me??

Paint and microwaves (no, not together)

2006-07-16T08:11:00.000-05:00

In the master bedroom, Wall #1, behind the bed, is the colored wall -- blue. It's done and looks fabulous. Covering up the small section of Granite was no problem. The other walls will be the same color as the background color of the master bath walls (yellowish), and I should get a couple of those done today. Maybe all, but...

This house is perfect for me because it has a very small kitchen. To me, 'kitchen' is wasted square footage. When I was looking at new construction, I joked with a builder about whether he had any floor plans with no kitchen, just a microwave built in to the TV cabinet somewhere. He said I was not the first person to ask for something like that, but the problem is that mortgage companies are weird about 'resale' and don't think there's a big enough market for homes with no kitchen. Go figure.

Anyway, the stupid microwave that came with the house is officially non-working. Oh, it pretends to work. Lights come on, it makes noise, the turntable turns, but ain't no cookin' being done. Last night for dinner I made one of my famous Marie Callendar Chicken Pot pies. They are a staple of my diet for more than 10 years I think, and so it's like rote to hit the 5 min button, then eat. Last night after five mins my pie was still frozen in the middle. After 7 it was barely thawed. This morning, my warmed up coffee is almost warm-ish so I've made another whole pot of hot, fresh coffee.

(sigh)

The annoying thing is that the home warranty thing that the seller bought among the various closing goodies covers microwaves -- but only built-ins. Apparently the built-in one long since expired, and the one left behind is just a countertop model crammed in the built-in space.

Now the crazy part. Microwaves are like $50. (OK, microwaves that will last longer than the 45 days I've been in the house are more than that.) And I don't cook. But I got spoiled when I was in NY because the ex won a GE Advantium in some online contest. The Advantium is a combination convection(?)/microwave thing that make the most perfect chicken pot pies you can ever have. Naturally, the Advantium costs more than $50. The only thing that might save me some money here is the fact that I think the Advantium is too wide for the built-in space. I'll have to go look at them today. I don't mind pulling my dinner from the freezer every day but I do prefer to warm it up a bit first.

No Floor; No Surprise

2006-07-15T08:57:00.000-05:00

No reader who has ever done home improvements will be surprised to hear that the floor did not arrive on Friday. Nor will it be a surprise that as of Thursday afternoon, it had not yet left the warehouse. (sigh) Maybe, they say, next Friday? I am hoping to have it before Christmas, but I'm not holding my breath. Meanwhile, the dog thinks the gaps in the existing floor are great places to hide her toys.

The bathroom looks GREAT, which means I suppose I should get off my butt and figure out how to re-size pictures on the Mac. Or install the new hard drive in the PC, but that just seems like so much frustration (reloading the OS? EEK! ) when I still have a whole room to paint. I may try to do that later after I get a coat of some paint on the wall in there.

Off to paint. There's a story about Lowe's "Granite" paint but I'll just summarize it by saying if you are not 100% sure you want it on your wall, don't do it, because once it's there, it is never coming off. Well, I *was* 100% sure, but then when I saw it... well, you know. At least I only did a small section up on the corner of the soffit. I am hoping the new normal paint will cover or that the shadows in the soffit will sort of make you wonder exactly what DID happen up there...

Did I say rag rolling?

2006-07-10T17:33:00.000-05:00

We tried it, and we didn't like the way it looked. So we sponged instead. It's a lot of work but it looks soooo much better!

We also didn't finish the bathroom, but we can see the end of the tunnel.

Now, there's a story about the floor. It's bad. The first time I came into the house I said "No, not this house. The floor is a mess, and I hate the wallpaper in the bathroom." But Mom can see past these things and realized that the house, itself was ok, and we could do these little cosmetic projects like painting walls, planting some flowers, and installing a new floor. So the old improperly installed laminate was slated to go away. We visited the flooring folks at Home Depot and Lowe's. At Lowe's, the flooring guy was too busy chatting with a fellow employee and their flooring samples were inadequate for our needs. At Home Depot, the flooring guy knew the difference between different laminates, explained why this one is $x per square foot and that one is $X+Y, and basically sold me on his ability to do Customer Service.

Stupid me.

This occurred some six weeks ago, in the last week of May, when I closed on the house and the flooring that we thought we might be able to simply 'repair' was clearly irreparable. Home Depot sent a guy right out, measured, gave me an estimate near what I expected (slightly more than the discount the home-seller gave us for repairing the icky floor), and I said 'do it.' A day later, they called to say the floor had to be back-ordered so it might be 4-6 weeks. Would that be ok?

A smart person would have seen the writing on the wall... But no. I said no worries, and started counting the weeks. At four weeks, June 26, I called and they said the estimated delivery date was July 3. Woohoo! I was excited to get the now really messed up floor outta here. But no. I called on July 3, and mysteriously the estimated delivery date had been moved to July 9. No worries, that would be six weeks...

Called today, July 10, to find out what's up. "Uh," says the Home Depot flooring guy, "the computer says it's supposed to be here yesterday. Since we don't take deliveries on Sundays it should be here any day now."

"Here's the deal, Sparky." I replied. "You guys have been putting me off for two weeks already with your 'should be' nonsense. This time you are going to find out exactly where my floor is and when it's coming to my house, ok?"

"Uh... it's going to take me a while to track it down. I'll call you back."

Unbelievably, he did. "Uh, here's the deal," said Sparky the Floor Guy. "We got six cases of the flooring on Thursday but the other 30-something are missing, so we are going to have to re-order. I think we can have it by Friday."

(Go ahead and do the math: I have been waiting for this special, back-ordered floor for six weeks but now if they order it on Monday, they can get it by Friday...)

"OK, once again, Sparky buddy, I'm not paying for 'thinking' here. What I want to know is, when will the floor be in my house?" [For those not familiar with laminates, the stuff has to sit in your house to acclimate for 3 days before they install it, so it gets all humidified and doesn't buckle when it retains moisture later. Thus, delivery + at least 3 days is when I get a new floor, assuming they can rip out the old crap and install the new in one day.]

"Well, if it comes on Friday, and you know it could get lost again, but if it comes on Friday then we can schedule the delivery, but it would take a special OK to get it delivered on the weekend, and I can't authorize that."

"Well, Sparky, I'm in a feisty mood so how about you put me on the phone with someone who CAN authorize a weekend delivery?"

(Hold music...) "Hi, this is Teresa. Sparky filled me in on some basics about your floor. We're going to re-order it and then it could be here as early as Friday. Then we can schedule a delivery and installation ok?"

"Well, Teresa, here's my problem. I'm guessing that if the floor arrives on Friday you aren't going to be able to turn it around and get it to my house until, what, Monday? or later?"

"Uh, yeah kinda. Well, you know we can't really schedule a delivery until we have the product in."

"I do understand that Teresa, ol' pal. Here's what I want you to know. You knew on Thursday -- that is, three days ago, that you did't get all the flooring in. But it didn't occur to anybody in the store to re-order the missing stuff until I called to ask you where the heck is my floor. So I hope you can understand I'm a bit upset about your level of customer service, first of all for not calling me on Thursday to let me know part of it was in, and second for not immediately ordering it so it could get here sooner. Are you getting this?"

"Um well see, when orders come in, they get checked and then if it's just a partial order it goes in a bin and ..."

"Teresa, hon, you're not hearing me. I don't care how it works. I do care about communication with a customer who has spent $10k in your store in the last month and needs to still do a lot more work on her new 15-year-old house. Does this mean anything to you?"

"Sure. We will call you when the flooring comes in, which is what we would have done when it all came in, anyway."

"OK, you're still not hearing me on the 'when it comes in' thing. See, if it doesn't come in Friday, you had better be on the phone to me, telling me that you are tracking its GPS coordinates, and you know exactly when it will arrive there and, based on that, when you can deliver it to my house. Does this sound reasonable to you?"

"So you want someone to call you on Friday?"

ARRGH

But no, that's not all...

Several hours later, I get another Home Depot call. I think this is the person who took the initial order: "Hi, I just got back into the office after being away for a week and a half, and I see on your file that you wanted someone to call you."

(sigh) I run through the situation, including the two initial calls when I was told two different delivery dates. Then I learn the real kicker of the story:

"Well, we got the flooring in a couple of weeks ago, but it was the wrong color so we had to re-order it."

"I don't suppose it occurred to anybody at that time to call and let me know."

"I don't see anything on the file saying we did that."

"No, I know you didn't. In fact, not only did you not call and tell me it was delayed, but the two bozos that I spoke to on June 26 and July 3 lied about the delivery date."

"Well, we don't usually track this sort of thing. See, we just schedule it when it comes in."

"OK, well, I am glad to have had this experience because it will save me a lot of aggravation in the future. Other home improvement stores may not be any better on this, but they can't be any worse. I can't wait to hear from you on Friday."

Fun with Paint

2006-07-09T08:05:00.000-05:00

As with any older house (15 years old), this one is not perfect. It is getting closer to perfection, thanks to my mom & I and a pile of cash, but it's a lot of work.

The guest bath, for example, was a fairly putrid blue when I moved in. Mom fixed that within the first days of moving in by painting it a cheerful, bright, sunny yellow. (She also replaced the nasty padded toilet seat cover. Do people actually use those things? They just feel so icky. Toilet seats should be hard and cool, not soft and warm. Yuck.)

Mom also took care of re-painting the laundry room a lovely sand color, and putting up a cute wallpaper border in there. It's cute, not icky, I swear. Anyway, that all happened before the washer/dryer/space shuttle arrived, so that's not today's project...

More recently, we have been attacking the master bathroom. It's a fairly large space, and somebody filled the walls with a busy 1980s Waverly sort of wallpaper. It's something that might work in a smaller space or as an accent on one wall of a bigger room, but egads, it was overwhelming in my poor master bath. So began project number 4: Wallpaper-be-gone.

If anybody out there is thinking about removing their own wallpaper, STOP. It took us the better part of a week to remove two walls of this very-well-stuck wallpaper using chemical wallpaper remover (bad idea) and finaly the old tried-and-true steamer. Bored with the process and facing quite a lot more wallpaper to remove, we decided to paint over the rest of it.

Mom found some magic primer that sticks to anything, including this coated wallpaper, to leave it water-wet so the latex paint sticks. Yesterday we put on the first coat of the real paint, and it will need one more coat to cover the stupid dark blue flowers of the wallpaper (grrr) and then we will rag-roll a coat of glaze on it. (More on that in a minute)

The last time I painted anything, I used a Wagner Power-Roller on a biiiig empty wall. Thus, painting was fun and sort of mindless. Fast-forward from then (~1983?) to now, painting a bathroom. The thing about bathrooms is that they are full of stuff you can't just paint over: mirrors, medicine cabinets, bathtub spouts, toilets, etc. Furthermore, this room has 13-foot ceilings and a large soffet, which means I'm up and down a big ladder much more than any monkey ever wanted to climb.

I've also managed to back into the paint at least once, and paint my hands, toes and arms a couple of times. In the competition for 'most body parts painted,' mom is running a close second; I have at least managed to keep it out of my hair...

That said, after one coat, I'm breathing a sigh of relief that the busy busy wallpaper is mostly disappeared. It's all worth it.

Next: The master bedroom. This one should go much faster. Famous last words, right?

Ear Infection

2006-06-15T18:22:00.000-05:00

The sweet little dog has an ear infection. A yeast infection, of all things, from swimming in grandpa's pool. Apparently a dog's ear is a similar environment to other places that can harbor such infections. Go figure.

Anyway, the vet sent me home with one enormous bottle of goo, one small tube of other goo and an instruction sheet. The instructions tell me to simply fill the dog's ear canal with goo from the bottle, massage it around for five minutes or so, then use cotton balls to muck out the now loose/icky goo in the ear canal. Follow that, it says, with a 'small amount' of goo from the squeeze tube, which is apparently steroids & medicine.

"You might," the vet added in a verbal aside, "want to do it outside."

What the vet failed to mention is that the dog will not only hate this, but consider it a personal attack as savage as if you had clubbed her with the bottle instead of just squirting a bit into the ear canal.

The dog is resting up from the wrestling match. I think I won, but I'm not sure. I hope the goo from the big bottle does not kill grass, because it is ALL over the back yard.

First load

2006-06-14T20:34:00.000-05:00

My new washer & dryer arrived today. In the words of mom, who was here to accept the delivery, "The space shuttle has landed."

Mom got a high-tech, high-efficiency LG washer/dryer last year, and I was there to do the first load of laundry in her new machine as soon as the Home Depot techs finished installing it. So it was only fitting that she was there today to greet the Home Depot guys and do the first load in my new GE space shuttle. Er, washer/dryer.

I paid twice as much for the washer as I would have paid for a plain old boring washing machine that does not light up like the space shuttle cockpit or spit water economically from hidden hydro-ports and use oh so much less electricity. But I think someone who purports to be a liberal tree-hugger should be buying EnergyStar products. Then, as I started researching washer/dryers, I wondered why the dryers are not labeled as EnergyStars. Then I realized that if I was *really* a tree-hugger, I would hang my laundry to dry. Eek! So ok, I'm a tree-hugger when it is convenient. (I think The Woodlands has deed restrictions against hanging your laundry outside. That's my excuse, anyway.)

I agonized over getting pedestals for the things, but in the end the marketers convinced me that I would like the 'dump all your laundry in the drawer first thing in the morning, and the machine sorts it all, then washes, dries and folds them while you're at work' option.

OK, it's a dream. But I'd pay extra for that.

Sprinklers

2006-06-13T18:18:00.000-05:00

Smart people buy houses with automatic sprinklers, all set up and aiming in exactly the most efficient places possible to create a lush, green, happily watered lawn and lovely, happy flowers.

Crazy people (pointing to myself) spend an hour a week trying some new configuration of three sprinkler options, hoping to be able to water at least 80 percent of the grass without totally soaking the driveway, street and oh of course the neighborhood mailbox. My guess is that my neighbors will wonder why the eccentric new lady watered their mail. (sigh)

I have this fear, see? I'm not great with grass. I kill it just by looking at it. My dog kills it by peeing on it. And I don't think my neighbors will be terribly excited if my yard looks like a dried up brown patch of weeds after not even a month of my 'care.'

So I'm probably overdoing it to avoid screwing up. I can't help it. Blame it on my genes.

Anyway, the grass looks very happy & wet, so it's all good. Now, don't even start on how I'm only supposed to water in the morning, because that's just not going to happen.

Heat and Chores

2006-06-12T17:45:00.000-05:00

Having lived in Phoenix for a couple of years, I like to brag to Texans that their heat is puny compared with the 115-degree scorchers that suck the life right out of your lungs in Phoenix.

Today I'm happy to admit that 97 degrees is plenty hot, thanks.

One of my chores* on Sunday was to plant some flowers in the expansive front landscaping area at the new house. I felt pretty good about making about 40 holes in the dirt before noon. Then this afternoon I walked from one building to another in my office complex at the peak heat of the day and saw the landscaping crews planting about 100x as many flowers in the open spaces between buildings. My hat is off to those guys.

*Chores = things homeowners do every single freakin' day that renters never thought about. Or if they thought about it, they laughed and said, "I don't have to do that. Let the landlord do it if he wants it done." Oddly enough, even though I pay the mortgage company my 'rent' for the house now, they don't seem inclined to come and do any chores. Go figure.

Catching Up

2006-06-11T08:24:00.000-05:00

Every day or two I think, "Hey, I ought to blog about xxxx." Then I remember that I have not blogged in months, and maybe I won't remember how, or I'll have to spent too much time on this just to catch up...

Excuses, excuses. Here's what's happened since I fell off the Earth in January:

-- Work is great. If I could have written my own job description, it would be this job. It is especially nice to have a 13-mile commute on all back roads with no traffic. Yippee!!

-- The Camaro has gone into foster care, possibly adoption to new handlers. I traded him in on... wait for it... a new Mini Cooper. Yellow, convertible. I always wanted a convertible, and now that I live in a place of eternal summer, I deserve this. In some future blog I will debate whether I have been a good girl to deserve such a fun car or a naughty girl to deserve a car that demands to be driven topless even when it is 97 degrees (F) and 97% humidity. Either way, I am loving it.

-- The wonderful two-story townhouse I had been renting since last summer now has new inhabitants; I have (gasp) bought a house. It's a cute one-story house with huge trees in an established neighborhood, and it is almost exactly (within 0.1 miles) the same distance from work as the townhouse.

--The dog is loving her new backyard with trees & more space to romp. The house is also witin walking distance of one of The Woodlands' great dog parks, if only it were not 97 degrees and 97% humidity.

Pix to come. I moved on 3 June and have not yet managed to hook up the PC for a number of reasons (redoing the flooring shortly, PC hard drive kablooie, dearth of cable/ethernet outlets in old house, etc.) I'm working on the Mac but iPhoto is apparently not equipped to resize photos for the Web (how dumb is that?) and Picasa is not available for the Mac (grrr).

Ugh, commuting!

2006-01-17T18:22:00.000-06:00

For those readers who are not American, I should mention that Monday -- my first day at the new job -- was a sort of half holiday in the US. It's the day we celebrate Martin Luther King's birthday, and it's a federal holiday, a bank holiday but a fairly optional holiday otherwise.

This is important to know because my commute on Monday took 45 minutes. Today, Tuesday, not a holiday in any way, shape or form, the very same commute took 1 hour, 10 minutes. This with some 50-ish percent of the trip on a tollroad, which costs $1 for the privilege of sitting in bumper-to-bumper automotive mess.

Oh yes, I'm very excited about this development.

I need a new podcast that just repeats over & over: "Your job will be just 13 miles away in a few weeks. You can do this until then. No, really, it won't kill you. Your blood pressure may rise, and you may become a screaming maniac, but you can survive it."

(sigh)

There was also drama at work today. My boss's boss, who actually helped arrange my interview at the last minute, announced he is retiring. In 2 weeks. The communications staff was stunned, and it's unclear what will happen to that position... whether it will be filled or we will be shuffled off to report to some other department, or report directly to the VP.

Gotta love a job that starts with no computer (still! -- but i might have one on Friday) an office full of other people's crap, and managerial drama. Woot!!

Don't have to love the commute tho, grrr! (only a few weeks. you can do this. really, you can!)

I Survived!

2006-01-16T17:11:00.000-06:00

Made it through the first day at the new job without falling asleep at my desk, but of course there's a story or two...

This morning I started to tell you about how cool it was to have the coffee all made for me when I got up in the morning to go to the new job. I did manage to remember to actually bring the last cup of coffee in the car with me, and managed to drive to work without spilling it all down the front of my clothes (my favorite 'stupid humans' trick).

Upon my arrival at the building, I realized I had not asked where I should park, so I grabbed a visitor spot and calmly walked to the end of the hall where the Communications Services offices are. There, I found out that you need an access card to get through any of the doors. So... walked back to the front desk to explain the situation. She called my new boss, he confirmed that I'm a real new employee, and she gave me a temporary card and showed me where I should (and should not) park.

This time, I actually got into the office, where I found my new work space, which apparently once was filled to bursting with 'stuff' and now is only halfway filled with 'stuff' that would go into a storage closet if only they had one. (Sigh)

The good news: I have a desk, a phone and a tape dispenser. The bad news: no computer, no tape, no stapler. [I list the latter item for "Office Space" afficionados.)

I got to meet the office gal who hands out the permanent access cards, and most of my immediate co-workers. The boss also took me to lunch (Chinese) to meet a freelancer who does the layout for the company publication that I'll be editing. Then we drove up to the company's new building, where we will be moving in February or March.

I think I mentioned that my commute now is about 40 miles because 'you can't get there from here.' Well, when we were done touring the new office space (wow!) and meeting some folks at the nearby Tech Center, I drove direclty home and found out that when we move to the new building, my commute will be 13 miles, about 20 minutes. YAAAHOO!

Apparently everyone else in my department lives south of the current office, so the move will considerably lengthen their commutes. They are not as wildly excited about the move as I am.

The boss says my computer has all the approvals it needs, but there is some IT delay. If it doesn't come tomorrow, he has a contingency plan -- or I'll have another day to read in my messy office. Somehow a messy office is not as endearing when it's not MY mess.

One final note: I have never worked full-time since I have had the dog, so it was touch-and-go on how she would deal with me being gone all day. It apears she slept all day rather than eating my couch, so I suppose I should finish writing and play with her now as a reward :)

New Job Day!

2006-01-16T06:45:00.000-06:00

I start my new job today. I've had a week at home to get myself and the dog accustomed to going to bed early and getting up in the morning.

Naturally, I could not sleep last night. Oh, sure I got a few winks, but last week I had no trouble at all falling asleep at 10 & waking at 5:30 without an alarm. Today, I was still looking at the clock at 4:30, and I almost threw the phone across the room when its alarm went off at 6:15.

"The phone?" you ask. Well, I have this great Sony alarm clock, with about 500 buttons on it, and you can preset different wake-up times for every day of the week & weekend. But I can't remember a) how to turn set it, b) how to turn it on, or c) how to shut it off after it knocks me out of bed. I mean, it's been basically four and a half years since I last used an alarm. I will have to find the manual for the thing one of these days; until then, I have a cell phone with a cheerful morning wake-up song.

When I moved to Houston, one of the items that did not survive the journey in the truck from Arizona was my poor old coffee machine. It was yer basic Mr. Coffee, so I was hoping to upgrade anyway. The Martian bought me, as a housewarming gift, a new cool coffee maker that has a timer on it. That's not the greatest invention ever.

I'd write more but the clock says it's time to make sure the dog has done all her business, finish getting dressed, and head out into traffic for what is to be my daily commute. You know I'll have more stories about that...

Back home (whew!)

2006-01-08T10:56:00.000-06:00

There is something very soothing about sleeping in your own bed, with your own pillow, after three weeks on 'vacation.'

It's also quite nice to choose clothes from the closet instead of a suitcase. I could go on, but you get the idea. I love to travel, but I also love to come home.

I'll talk about the trip & show pictures from the Billund Airport another time, but for now I need to tell you about Bluetooth.

The Martian gave me a new keyboard/mouse for Christmas, and it's all bluetooth. While I was in Denmark, I was using it on the Mac without most of its fun special features because it doesn't come with mac drivers. Now it's home & installed on the PC with full functionality, and wow! There are almost enough buttons on the mouse that I can do without a keyboard ;)

But the keyboard has its own functionality, including little preset buttons for common tasks and a nice zoom/volume control bar, and an LCD screen that shows what song is playing on iTunes, current time/temperature (how do it know?) and whether someone is trying to reach me via MSN Messenger.

Plus, now that I have 'Bluetooth' on the PC, I thought it would be fun to see what other gadgets I could attach to my already-too-big geek network. [Oh yes, the geek-meter is always pegged at this house. Where else can you find a house networked with three Windows PCs, a Mac, three printers, and the assorted stuff -- including the CNC sewing machine -- that attaches to each of these things.... and only one person living there?]

Your basic Bluetooth geek probably has a Bluetooth phone so they can sync their address books with their PC (?), maybe a Bluetooth headset so they can talk hands-free on their Bluetooth phone in their Bluetooth-enabled car (e.g., Mom's Lexus!); and maybe a Bluetooth handheld thingie to sync whatever one puts on such a device.

An Internet search turns up ever more entertaining things, however. For example, Toshiba expands the Bluetooth geekdom into the home with a Bluetooth microwave oven, refrigerator and washer/dryer. Yes, really!

A geek like me can appreciate the concept of syncing my grocery shopping list from the empty fridge to the PC or a PDA to carry to the store. But the microwave and washer/dryer?

"OK, I'm leaving work now, so start cooking that frozen food I left in the microwave all day"? I don't think so. Now, if the microwave can talk to the fridge & automatically grab the food out of the freezer, we might be talking about a useful device.

And unless the washing machine can flip clothes from washer to dryer and then fold them & pick up another load, I don't see the point of that one, either.

Anyway, I'm having a great time with this new toy and getting used to all the fun new buttons on the new mouse. And now I have a spare keyboard, which means (of course) that I have to buy another PC, right? hehehehehehe

Godt Nytår

2006-01-03T05:18:00.000-06:00

The title of this one is my attempt to hide my late New Year's greetings by speaking Danish. It will take you so long to figure out that it says "Good Newyear," you won't notice it's a few days late. That's the theory, anyway.

As promised, here are some pictures of the snow we got here in Denmark while mom, dad & my poor dog have been suffering with high 70s and low humidity back home in Texas.

The first snow day was fun for me because of the drifts; it reminded me of my kid days back in Chicago, where you could get 2 inches of snow and have a 30-foot drift blocking the garage doors. OK that's a bit of an exaggeration, but there's a reason for that city's nickname. I opened the back door of the house here to take some pictures, found a drift up to my waist against the door, and decided pictures could wait until the wind was gone. Meanwhile, the wind had left the whole courtyard of the house (between the house & the barns) almost bare of snow in the middle, with high drifts at the edges.

We went for a nice walk yesterday, and I got this fine picture of the great little Danish church up the street from The Martian's place. I say 'up the street' and I mean 'up'; I always forget between trips how hilly this area is. The glaciers carved up the place a bit.

For New Year's Eve, we went to a party at the home of one of the guys who came to stay at my house last summer. Carsten is a nut, and the party was made more fun by the fact that he had to work all day and half of the evening. He does something with a shipping company, planning and executing the loading & unloading of ships. If a huge ship comes in on New Year's Eve, you don't ask the captain to park there for the evening while you go play with your pals.

Thus, the first guests to arrive found an empty house and a large sack of decorations sitting on the coffee table. (Rub hands together, use evil grin). What could be more fun than making a huge mess of someone else's house? hehehe. We were very thorough; we even decorated the inside of the refrigerator. I'm pretty sure there are some streamers Carsten will not find until he moves out of the house.

The food arrived as we were finishing with the decorations; actually, some other guests had stopped at the caterer to pick it up. Carsten came shortly after that, but still had to shower and change into nice clothes. What a nut!

A Danish New Year's Eve party follows a general schedule: At 6, everyone gathers around the tv to watch the queen's annual speech. Then you can eat, eat, eat -- the Danish national pastime. There is much toasting and laughing, some silly hats and party games. Then everyone gathers around the TV again to see "The 90-Year-Old Woman." It's a German comedy duo, performing in English, with Danish subtitles. How it became a staple of Danish New Year's no one knows. But there it is.

Near midnight, the guests climb onto the furniture so that at the stroke of midnight they can LEAP into the new year. They then leap into their winter coats and other warm stuff, to go out and see the fireworks.

Fireworks are legal for all here, so rather than having one centralized fireworks display choreographed to music by some professional outfit, you have the exuberance of 5 million inhabitants whose goal is to have some fun and maybe outdo the guy next door. The upshot (heh) is that you have fireworks basically anywhere you care to look, for much longer than even the best American displays I've ever seen. (Danish dogs must really hate New Year's Eve.)

The Martian took some great video of the fireworks but I can't get it uploaded just yet. It may have to wait until I get home. Anyway, a good time was had by all!

Narnia & snow

2005-12-28T17:27:00.000-06:00

The movie was fun, but the big news is that apparently Denmark is expecting a blizzard overnight. We have seen pictures of the snow blanketing other parts of Europe on the TV news, but so far we've seen only a couple of inches here.

Look for pictures of snow angels & other snow critters tomorrow!!

As for Narnia, those of us who had read the books as kids liked it more than those who had not read the books, even as adults. I think they expected something deep & involved like Lord of the Rings. It's a good story, but it's no Lord of the Rings.

More Christmas in Denmark

2005-12-28T08:48:00.000-06:00

So, we ate & ate, then sang Christmas carols around the tree, and we are ready to open presents, which the kids deliver to the grownups who clearly are not in enough of a hurry to get to the best part of Christmas.

In my family, the Unnamed Male Relative and I have a Christmas tradition. Ever year, we reminding my dad that we "always" get to open some present on Christmas Eve. This is patently false, but we say it every year anyway, and every year dad says "NO!" and wait for Santa to deliver the stuf that he always brings while we sleep. Then we get up early on Christmas morning shouting, "Santa came! Santa came!" (We may be old, but we are not grown up at Christmas!)

The Martian's young nieces were horrified to hear that American kids have to wait until Christmas morning to open their presents. In Denmark, Santa (julemanden) is just more the leader of a band of tricksters, nisse who are nice to good children and who play nasty tricks on bad children. They are all about knocking over the salt, making a mess in your bedroom, or giving you a bad hair day, rather than bringing presents to good children. The sleigh, reindeer, delivering gifts overnight... that's all crazy American stuff. Danish kids think Americans torture their children by making them wait all night. "How can the kids even get to sleep?" they wanted to know.

You can see in the picture some of my jul loot: a new Logitech keyboard/mouse with lots of tricks. I'm typing/clicking with it now, attached to the Mac, but without all the functionality that it will have once I get home & install the drivers on the PC. I don't think I have ever seena mouse with so many functions; I have no idea what I'll do with all the options!

You may also be able to see The Martian's sister holding the small pink scrapbook that I made for her daughter. As expected, the kids looked through the books quickly before moving on to toys. But the moms... Heh. I am pretty sure that they are addicted to the craft/hobby even before they get started. I did give them small scrapbooking kits for gifts, and they are excited about trying it themselves, now that they have seen one possibility. There is also a crafting chain store here in Denmark that carries more scrapbooking 'stuff,' although not yet at the level of the American stores. Heh.

What you can definitely see is one corner of the trash pile that resulted from the crazy unwrapping fest. Fourteen people unwrapping gifts makes a big pile of paper & ribbons & boxes & stuff.

While The Martian's brother-in-law cleaned up the mess, his sister was in the kitchen because (of course) we had to eat some more. This time it was just coffee and candy -- the latter including some of the konfekt that we made the day before. As if we could possibly eat any more. (Well, somehow we did!)

After chatting a bit, playing with some of the new toys and relaxing, we eventually left the whining, overtired kids to go back to The Martian's mom's house in Aalborg, to sleep a few hours before starting another day of over-eating.

The Martian earned big points with me by holding back a small present, so when he woke me on Christmas morning, he could say, "Santa came! Santa came!" He's a good Martian!

The first stop on Christmas day was his grandparents' new home, where we chatted and shared clementines. Then we walked (brrr cold!) down to his dad's place for lunch of a variety of Danish traditional Christmas foods, including sild (herring, not my favorite), and some pork goo (sylte) that neither The Martian nor his sister would touch with a 10-meter pole, but which his dad likes a lot. I liked it just fine; it tasted like deviled ham. They tell me I don't want to know how it's made; something about boiling the head of the pig... (la la la I can't hear you la la la).

Christmas evening, The Martian's childhood pal joined us for dinner and a few too many glasses of candy-flavored liquor (yum!). The Martian's pal & sister then went into the city to seek further libation, but I am too old to enjoy a hangover anymore, so The Martian and I chose sleep over hangovers.

I woke the next morning with a sore throat and a sniffle; The Martian had a sour stomach and a headache. I'm not sure which is worse, but I will say that Danish cold medicine works great.

The day ended at a concert by "The Original Local Blues Brothers" in Aalborg, a fun group that played great music even if the venue was so full of smoke that you could hardly see the stage. (It's very weird to be back in a place where smoking is allowed almost everywhere!) We went with a friend from Aarhus and his two cousins; afterward we (of course) had to get something to eat. What restaurant was still open at midnight? Burger King. Oh yes.

On our last day in Aalborg, I turned on my GPS receiver for kicks and saw that there was a geocache hidden only about 400 meters from The Martian's mom's house! She lives near a great hill that overlooks the Lim Fjord, and someone had a cache there. The Martian's nieces were visiting, so we grabbed them for a 'treasure hunt' while his mom fixed lunch. It was a very cold trudge up the hill, but the girls loved finding the 'treasure' and the small toys inside.

We're back in Århus now, and tonight we will eat some other strange Danish food and go see Narnia with friends. More yapping later... I have to start putting on layers to go out int he cold!

Christmas in Denmark

2005-12-26T10:36:00.000-06:00

Before I get to the real Danish Christmas story, I quit yesterday in he middle of the tale of risengrød, a rice goo that Danish elves eat. Turns out, people also eat it as part of dinner. To an American's eyes, it's more of a breakfast thing (like oatmeal), but I will not complain about food that has to be smothered in butter and brown sugar before you eat it.

The goo is made by cooking rice in milk instead of water. To avoid scalding the milk, Vikings since ancient times have been cooking the stuff by bringing the mixture to a boil, then taking it off the stove and wrapping the hot pot in blankets to finish cooking for some hours. Every Danish kid has a tale of accidentally jumping on the bed while the pot of goo was cooking in that fashion.

The night that we had the risengrød, The Martian and I also cooked one of my favorite 'American' foods: Shepherd's Pie. I don't know if any other American family eats this three-layer meat-veggie-starch dish, but it's easy and I like it, so that's what we made. The second option was mac-n-cheese. Maybe next time.

The next day was Danish Christmas, which they celebrate on Christmas Eve (julaften). The Martian's sister invited us to stay at her home in rural Mou, Denmark. The morning started with a Danish breakfast of coffee and smørbrød, bread and rolls smeared with butter and stuff: chocolate, jam, paté, shrimp, ham, cheeses, whatever. I mostly stay with jam; I can't seem to convince myself to eat liver for breakfast.

After breakfast, The Martian and his brother-in-law went out into their woods to cut down a Christmas tree. We all helped decorate it with a random assortment of stuff, including strings of Danish flags, a common decoration here for any celebration from birthdays to religious holidays. (I bet even George Bush doesn't have strings of American flags on his Christmas tree.)

The whole Martian horde descended on the house in late afternoon. Some brought food or wine; all brought presents that soon covered the base of the tree, much to the children's glee.

The main dinner treats were duck and roast pork, including the crackling from the pork. We also had three styles of potatoes, cabbage, pickled squash, and oh, let's just say nobody went hungry.

After the third time the food rotated around the table, the adults were bloated, and the kids were jumping out of their skins. Because they want to move the process closer to the Present Opening stage, they help to clear the table.

The party then moved to the living room, where the man of the house lit the real candles! on the tree. It was the first time I had seen this traditional way of lighting a tree, and it may be the last; The Martian said electric lights are common even in Denmark nowadays.

Then everyone joined hands to sing Christmas carols while walking in a ring around the tree. It's a fun bit of ceremony, but after each song, the kids ask, "Is that enough singing yet?"

Because after the singing their anticipation ended with Opening Presents!

More next time!