tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75925542946607053212024-02-07T21:03:21.200-06:00Out of My Mind's EyeLife as I see it. Pictures included.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger138125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-89076519490917476082013-08-14T21:09:00.001-05:002013-08-14T21:12:08.201-05:00The WagerOne of the guys I work with, whom I will call "Q", because that's his nickname, has been trying to lose weight for the last year since he started working with us. Q has tried different incentives - "I need to buy a new suit, but I'm not going to get one until I lose weight", or "I'm not going to shave my beard until I lose weight" - but each time has failed; in fact his weight has continued to creep upwards.<br />
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Although he's really not that big of a guy, in my office once you make a declaration like "I'm going to lose some weight" you have pretty much set yourself up for daily ribbing on your progress or lack thereof. One guy made the mistake of not only admitting to not having heard of "The Princess Bride", (what is that, a movie?) but having watched "Brother from Another Planet". If you guessed that's a low budget sci-fi movie about an alien who happens to be a black guy, you would be correct. We still find excuses to call his judgment into question based on his movie choices. But back to Q. I finally decided to step in and provide some much needed assistance to help him actually achieve his goal. It was either that or buy him a Santa suit for his growing belly and beard.<br />
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One day as Q was talking about relaxing with a beer on the weekend, I started telling him how he needed to stop drinking alcohol if he wanted to lose weight, which he attempted to rebut by pointing out how few calories he consumes in alcohol and how, were he to lose just one pound per week over the course of a year, he could still lose 49 pounds, as the alcohol would only add 3 pounds worth of calories. Needless to say, this quickly led to a bet as to whether he could actually lose a pound a week for a year.<br />
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Seeing an opportunity to give my buddy what he really needed (an actual driving motivation - he's very competitive), we hashed out the rules and put down the bet. He has to lose 52 pounds in a year, with quarterly weigh-ins. Each quarter if he is on track, I will buy him lunch. If he falls short, he buys me lunch. At the final weigh-in, the loser has to buy the winner and his wife a dinner at Chama Gaucha, a steakhouse that from what I have heard is totally awesome (and about 60 bucks a plate). I figure it's a win-win for me. I either get an awesome dinner for free, or for a little over 100 bucks I get to help my friend meet his weight loss goal, and of course it gives me an excuse for lots of good natured ribbing in the meantime. Based on his progress so far (down 11 pounds in 2 weeks), I have a feeling my wallet's going to be taking a hit. But hey, what are friends for?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-39836488587408040642013-06-16T08:21:00.000-05:002019-07-19T09:46:58.394-05:00Back to NormalI have long lived with intermittent back pain, usually occurring after standing in one place for long periods of time, or after sleeping on a soft bed (a waterbed is like a torture chamber device for me). Recently the pain has gotten more frequent, to the point that there would be around an hour or two spread out throughout the day where my back did NOT hurt. Finally I broke down and scheduled a doctor's appointment. The straw that broke the camel's back was when I was shopping at Target, slowly shuffling along, leaning on the cart to try and relieve the intense pain, and thinking "wow, this is what it feels like to be 80". I actually got passed by a guy in a motorized cart.<br />
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Let me go back a step. First I broke down and prayed to God for some healing for my back. Then I followed up with a doctor's appointment the next morning (my personal belief is that while God has the power and sometimes does heal miraculously, more often than not he uses the more mundane means around us to affect his good graces. Since I don't know which (if either) method he will use, I feel it is my role to trust in him while taking whatever measures are prudent as well).<br />
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The doctor gave me a good looking over, had me lay on my back, grabbed my ankles and pulled me a foot down the examining table. He told me that my back muscles were much tighter on one side than the other, making one leg about an inch shorter than its mate. Then he had me bend my knees and he leaned into my legs while I provided resistance for a few seconds, then relaxed and repeated, slowly moving them closer to my chest. This, he said would cause the muscles in my lower back to fire and relieve some of the tension, which it most certainly did. Finally, he made me an appointment with the Physical Therapist.<br />
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The Physical Therapist looked me over and gave me some stretches for my hamstring and hip flexors, then let me know that the reason my back makes me feel like an old man is because I stand like an old man - knees flexed, slightly hunched over. Thanks Doc! He also let me know I have the tightest hamstrings he has ever seen. It's always good to be #1 at something, right? Since then I've been trying to walk taller and sit straighter and do my stretches daily, and it has worked splendidly. I feel like a new man, and although I hate stretching, it is definitely worth it. That medical care was an answered prayer, and I'm thankful for it every day!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-65382470695099448202013-05-06T11:15:00.000-05:002019-07-19T10:30:06.789-05:00When Multitasking is InappropriateAmericans are renowned for our love of multitasking. While people in other countries may settle for simply reading part of the morning paper on their way to work while riding on the bus, we use that time to put on makeup, send multiple text messages, eat breakfast and shave, all while driving at 70 mph down the freeway. You may argue that nobody would both shave and put on makeup while driving, but that's only because you haven't passed Marilyn Manson on his way to work.<br />
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I'm not complaining about our multitasking addiction. Let's face it, you don't win two world wars by letting your time go idle. I'm only pointing out that our desire, no, impulsive need for productivity forces us to grab each day like a ripe orange and not only squeeze every drop of juice out of it, but use the pulp for compost and turn the rind into an artsy creation we can share on Pinterest.<br />
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This trend has only accelerated with the advance of technology. Not long ago, spending time with others relegated you to carrying on conversation with those people and not much else. Now, in addition to checking that box, you can literally check your inbox, chat with your more interesting friends and research what's happening in your community this weekend. If nothing else you can redeem the otherwise useless minutes with a game. Because the only thing better than listening intently to your friends tell you about what's going on in their lives is to listen to them half heartedly while aggressively destroying pig-made fortresses with birds launched from a virtual slingshot. Look at my productivity soar! Now I'm spending time with you and having a good time!<br />
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Unfortunately I was raised in a time when multitasking was not as appreciated. I wasted years of childhood with unproductive hours spent climbing trees and riding my bike, when I could have been mastering chess, learning to play multiple musical instruments, rising in the ranks of soccerdom and getting my black belt in karate, all at the same time. Fortunately, today's parents aren't about to let their kids waste their time the way that mine did, which will save us all when we go to war with China, which will unexpectedly declare that the conflict should be decided by a head to head soccer match, with competitors to be selected from the best chess playing violinists from each country. <br />
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I recently experienced multitasking gone too far, when I stopped by the bathroom at work. Personally, I view the restroom as a serial tasking environment. I take care of biological needs, then I wash my hands, then I dry my hands, then I leave. Some feel the need to expand this to carrying on a conversation while using the urinal, or reading in the stall, which I can accept, albeit with reservations. <br />
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What is not acceptable is carrying on a conversation over the phone while sitting on the toilet. Yes, somebody in stall number three was simultaneously tele-conversing while going number two. For me, this is just a bridge too far. When I speak with someone over the phone, I really want to do so without hearing the sounds of the other person's bowels at work. I would rather they not be splitting their attention between what I'm saying and when to pinch it off. And I would really rather not borrow someone's phone who was juggling it in one hand while wiping with the other. Call me old fashioned but I have to draw the line somewhere. Can we all agree to make the restroom a no-phone zone?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-10194474910590254432013-04-21T20:06:00.003-05:002013-04-21T20:06:21.526-05:00The Rockets Red GlareA while ago I blogged about starting an amateur rocket club at work. We finally consummated the relationship a couple of weekends ago with our inaugural launch day. <br />
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The weather was warm with a gentle breeze as we all parked on an empty cul-de-sac that is on the edge of my neighborhood's soon to be developed area. This seemed the perfect launch site, as there are no houses nearby, and a large, freshly plowed dirt field where houses will someday be planted was the anticipated landing site for rockets as they descended back to earth.<br />
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Several of us brought rockets to launch, although I was the only one to bring a water propelled variant. I carefully put the drinkable fuel in my spacecraft, carefully created using a 2 liter water bottle and a hobby kit, placed it on the launch pad, then attached the air compressor to pump it up to 80 psi. Unfortunately, I didn't get the clamp that holds the rocket down properly secured, so it lifted off when the pressure had built up to only 20 psi (and yes, the requisite jokes were made about the premature lift off by several in the crowd).<br />
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Fortunately, I came prepared with enough water in a travel mug for two launches, so I refilled the rocket, made sure the lever was clamped all the way down, and started pumping the air in. It quickly became apparent that something was wrong. The rocket began leaking fuel almost immediately. I'm glad it was only water, but I was only able to wait until 50 psi, then had to launch for fear of losing too much fuel. So much for the eco-friendly portion of the day's activities.<br />
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Once I was done demonstrating my lack of engineering skills, we were on to the real show. We started with the biggest rocket of the day. We had been talking about what we should launch into space for weeks, and had finally settled on a fish. Only one of the guys who showed up actually brought a rocket with a payload section, and he made up for everyone else's lack of imagination by bringing not one, but two zebrafish He was so excited that he couldn't even wait for me to get my camera ready, but fortunately one of the other guys got a photo before he ignited the thruster.<br />
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The rocket had a D engine, which was rated to put it up to around 1600 feet. Watching it shoot into the sky was a thing of mesmerizing beauty, although I can only imagine it had to be the worst day of those fishes' lives. The big question on everyone's mind was, would they survive launch and reentry?<br />
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The rocket went up and up and up, and finally it reached its peak and the orange parachute deployed. We watched as it slowly floated back towards earth, gently drifting over the dirt field as it descended. As we continued to watch it come down we began to realize just how high it had gone. It just kept floating, occasionally drifting faster as a gust of wind caught it. It soon became apparent that it would land at the far end of the field. Then we realized it might make it into the edge of the trees. Then it just kept going. When it finally settled down below the tree line out of sight, we headed in the direction where we had last seen it coming down, looking forward to recovering the swimming aquanauts inside (or at least we hoped they were still swimming).</div>
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Try as we may, we were unable to find the rocket. I even went back and scoured the woods for another 3 hours over a couple of additional days. While I found lots of cow bones, and a second rocket we lost that day, I never found the silver rocket with its space pioneers. I suppose the only thing worse than unexpectedly pulling 10 gs is slowly running out of oxygen while hanging from a tree somewhere lost in the woods. Every great space program has its tragic losses, and we experienced ours right off the bat. We will forever be haunted with questions. What if we had cut a hole in the parachute so that it came down faster? What if we had better pointed the rocket to fly into the wind? What if we had used heavier fish?</div>
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We didn't let the tragedy keep us down, as we went on to launch many more rockets, and recovered all but one of them. We're already looking forward to our next launch day in a few weeks, and planning on putting some more lucky creatures into orbit. Or at least into the lower troposphere. We have even given our club the moniker of PETA - People for the Extra-terrestrial Transport of Animals. Hopefully next time will be more successful.</div>
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If you look closely, you can see the fuel spilling everywhere. I fixed this later by adding a second gasket. If you look less closely you can see both of the areas where my hair is thinning. I have no fix for that.</div>
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We tried to launch 3 at once. It didn't turn out as spectacularly as envisioned. They all 3 went, just with a 10-15 second delay between each one.</div>
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This 2 stager didn't have a parachute, just streamers. The wind had picked up so much by this time that I found it about a half mile away while looking for our first rocket. The rocket had a Zelda theme; when we couldn't find it we dubbed it "The Missing Link".</div>
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The fish had to go through an intensive screening and training process prior to being selected as the first aquanauts for our rocket club. They had no idea what was coming. That was probably for the best.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-11969785681409868202013-03-31T07:47:00.000-05:002013-03-31T07:47:49.605-05:00Happy Easter!Today marks the second of the "high holidays" for Christians everywhere. Interestingly, the first, the birth of Jesus, would be meaningless without the second, the death and resurrection of Jesus. I find this interesting, because Christmas gets way more attention than Easter. <br />
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I chalk this up not to the difference in the religious meaning behind each of the holidays, but to the fact that a jolly old elf circumnavigating the globe with flying reindeer to deposit elf-made toys in people's houses is way more exciting than a giant bunny leaving a basket of colored eggs.<br />
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By the way, am I the only one that noticed that since our migration from hand-made toys to plastic creations with "made in China" stamped on the box, the whole elf-made bit should have collapsed on itself? Thank goodness for the simple trusting nature of children, at least for a time.<br />
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As a child I never fully believed in the Easter bunny; what did he look like? A real bunny, or a giant mix between a rabbit and the abominable snowman? How did he get into the house (certainly not through the chimney) and why did he come at all? Am I the only one who doesn't find it sanitary to have an animal handling my food? Probably, but that doesn't make me wrong.<br />
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Aside from all of this, the underlying reason for the holiday can get lost, even for those who purport to celebrate it. At least Christmas has some great carols about the birth of Jesus. There's not really a large storehouse of great Easter songs to sing. Maybe the best way to truly enjoy this aspect of the holiday is to just quietly reflect on what it means that God loved us so much that he came into our world (complete with our crazy cultural expressions) not to be revered and adored, but to be rejected and abused, and ultimately to pay the price on our heads so we could be made right with him. That's even more amazing than flying deer or candy producing rabbits.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-39397676450366929382013-03-03T15:43:00.000-06:002019-07-19T10:09:08.239-05:00Bark All Night, Sleep All DayI, like most people, enjoy sleeping around 8 hours a night. I normally wake up around 5:30 in the morning on work days, while sleeping in until closer to 7 on weekends. In recent days, however, I have gotten an early wake-up from our neighbor's dogs. <br />
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There are two of them, and they never bark, except when they are awake. Then they bark non-stop. That's not really fair. Each of them stops barking, often for intervals as long as 3 seconds (I counted - not as effective as counting sheep it turns out). I'm pretty sure they take turns making staccato status updates to the neighborhood, so neither of them gets tired. <br />
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I don't know what time they start, but generally I wake up around 2 - 3 in the morning to the sounds of their yapping. At a rate of around 100 barks per minute, I have found I can handle about 800 barks before I literally can't take it any more and just get out of bed. Fortunately they wrap up their session around 8 in the morning, so at least they only bark when human beings are trying to sleep. Apparently after barking at the wind all night they are exhausted and crash for the day. <br />
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I don't know if their owners have sound proofed their house, are heavy sleepers or are working the graveyard shift. I've never been so tempted to buy a big juicy steak and lace it with cyanide. Not sure where I would get that, nor how I would get my neighbors to eat it. I guess I'll just have to create some ambient noise to cover the sound of the hounds, by turning on a fan or perhaps letting the vacuum run next to the bed all night. I always took for granted that I would be able to sleep through the night until I got old enough for my prostrate to grow to the size of a small melon, forcing multiple trips to the bathroom. Now I'm really looking forward to moving in a couple of years.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-18715511815883109072013-02-24T07:26:00.001-06:002013-02-24T07:28:18.709-06:00Getting TiredWhen I was a kid my favorite activity was riding my bike. I could go anywhere in our small town as long as I was home by dinner time, or if it was after dinner, I had to be home by dark. I don't know how many miles I logged riding my 20" bike around Dalton City, but I'm sure it was a lot. <br />
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I rediscovered my love of biking when I was in college. I commuted to school and parking on campus cost a fortune so I would parallel park in a nearby neighborhood for free and ride the last few miles on the bike I hauled on the back of my car. (I might add, parallel parking was probably the most useful skill I learned in college, and I got really good at it). As a bonus, I would have my bike to get around campus on as well. I never could have made it to my meteorology class on time without a bike. It was in a building on the north side of school about a mile from the quad where my previous class was held and I only had 10 minutes to get there. <br />
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I bought a cheap mountain bike from Walmart (they called it the "Mountain Fury"), and after riding road bikes with thin tires and curved handlebars since I was a teenager, I was pleased to find this was like a bigger version of the 20" bike I rode growing up. I could jump curves and ride off road or in the snow. It was awesome!<br />
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Unfortunately my Mountain Fury was stolen, as were two other bikes I had during the 3 years I lived in Rantoul. (My street was Maplewood, but we called it Maple hood. Fortunately the stolen bikes and an egging to my car were the only crimes we experienced while there.) I still miss the Fury, but when Heather won a lightweight crossover bike (built like a mountain bike, but with thinner tires more fit for road use) that was too big for her, I was able to reconnect with my inner child again.<br />
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The Trail behind my house</div>
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I found a trail behind our house that's pretty fun to ride on, but I had to take turns super wide or the bike would start sliding out from under me. The street tires just weren't cutting it. Fortunately, I got a flat last week after running over a thorn while off-roading, and when I took it in to the bike shop I had them put a new tire on the wheel in addition to a new inner tube. The new tire is much more aggressively treaded. After taking it for a test run what a difference some decent traction makes! I can turn with ease and speed, just the way I like it. Now I'm flying down the trail, jumping ditches and loving life. I'm glad my attempts to patch the old inner tube proved futile, and Walmart didn't have the right size tube to replace it or I wouldn't have made it to the bike shop and would still have my crappy tire. Gotta love serendipity.<br />
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I'll be enjoying this scenery flowing by at faster speeds now</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-7494493879889253562013-02-19T20:44:00.001-06:002013-02-19T20:44:07.954-06:00It was Almost Like a SongOnce upon a time, in this very blog, I talked about how much I love music, and pointed to a Bruno Mars song that is a great combination of good lyrics and an acoustically complex, compelling tune. Unfortunately, I had the displeasure of hearing one of Mr. Mars more recent songs the other day, and oh how far his star has fallen. But more about that in a minute.<br />
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One of the great discoveries I have made is Slacker radio. It's a music app similar to Pandora, where you pick a genre and can stream music to match your tastes, even banning songs or artists you detest and marking other songs as favorites so that they are played more often. I have actually discovered talent on Slacker that I would not have otherwise listened to, such as "Red" (who has a lead singer with a crazy ability to go from screaming at the top of his lungs to singing beautifully seconds later) and "Need to Breathe" with their wonderful jazzy/smokey vocals.<br />
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While I normally listen to the Christian Rock station, Heather prefers Country & Western, which I don't particularly care for, which is a nice way of saying that I hate it. However, I found a compromise in the Classic Country station. When I was a kid my parents listened exclusively to Country and Western music, which back in those days was actually Country, and not Rock and Roll with a cowboy hat. Because I was raised listening to it, I actually like a lot of the old country songs, and don't mind listening to it, and Heather likes the old stuff as well as the new, so we're both happy.<br />
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One of the things that made Country music so good was solid lyrics. Which brings us back to Bruno Mars. Compare an old country classic about love by Don Williams (who has an awesome baritone timbre, but that's beside the point):<br />
<br />I ain't gonna marry in the fall<br />I ain't gonna marry in the spring<br />Cause I'm in love with a pretty little girl<br />Who wears a diamond ring<br /><br /><div>
And I'm just a country boy<br />Money have I none<br />But I've got silver in the stars<br />And gold in the morning sun<br />And gold in the morning sun<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
With this modern tale of love by the aforementioned artist:<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Never had much faith in love or miracles<br />Never wanna put my heart on the line<br />But swimming in your world is something spiritual<br />I'm born again every time you spend the night<br /></div>
<div>
Cause your sex takes me to paradise<br />Yeah your sex takes me to paradise<br />And it shows, yeah, yeah, yeah<br />Cause you make feel like, I've been locked out of heaven<br />For too long, for too long<br />Yeah you make feel like, I've been locked out of heaven<br />For too long, for too long<br /><br />Of course not every old country song has great lyrics, nor is every modern rock song as terrible as the one above, but there are a lot of good classic songs on the Country playlist. As a treat I'll leave you with one that Ronnie Milsap sang over 30 years ago, and although some of the accompaniment is noticeably dated, it still sounds great, and the story he tells (as well as the power with which he sings it) makes it a timeless classic. Rather than make you read the lyrics, I'll give you a link so you can listen to it yourself. Don't blame me if you almost get choked up.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KbeQa2hmznk">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KbeQa2hmznk</a><br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-64481824629451268102013-02-17T16:50:00.001-06:002013-02-17T16:50:18.544-06:00Road Trip to ColoradoLast week we took a trip to Colorado Springs. The plan was to check up on our rental properties, catch up with some friends in the area, and I would get to hit the slopes with two of my buddies who live in town. Since we had been mulling over upgrading to a smartphone for awhile, we decided to take the plunge and buy one the day before pulling out. This turned out to be not the best decision.<br />
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When we got the phone we wanted to keep our phone number from the previous phone, which takes 24 hours or so to take effect, so the Cricket lady gave us a temporary number we could use until the phone number ported over. While on the road we texted the friends we would be staying with to let them know that we would be there around 6 pm, as the GPS said we would be there at 7, but you have to subtract an hour for changing from Central to Mountain time zone. <br />
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At least, that's how our old GPS worked. When I noticed we were 140 miles from our destination at 5:00, I realized that the new GPS we bought already figures in the time zone change. This makes sense, but I realized I needed to text our friends and let them know we would be coming in an hour later than I had thought. Unfortunately, between the time of the previous text and now, the phone had ported the new number over. It was now unusable until we could get in an area with data coverage so we could finish the process of setting up the phone, which wouldn't happen until we got to Colorado Springs. <br />
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This was extremely annoying, but we finally arrived and were able to achieve all of our goals. I learned a couple of our properties need some yard work, we had good visits with several friends, and I even got to do some skiing and snowboarding and didn't break anything. As a bonus we went on a shopping spree while we were in town. We bought a new couch and love-seat (who would have thought they would ship to Texas?), new sandals (yes, we bought sandals in February in Colorado - there's no REI in San Antonio), I got new sunglasses (my old ones somehow got broken while attached to the sun visor on the way up) and a video game (after playing Call of Duty with my friend Mike I decided to get a copy for myself). It was a pretty good trip, though I'm not looking forward to getting the credit card bill.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-46187181836570777882013-02-09T21:25:00.001-06:002013-02-09T21:25:20.790-06:00Welcome to the 21st CenturyToday officially ended our hiatus from the internet - or at least from having internet access at home. After a year and a half of driving to Starbucks, McDonalds, and the (not so) local library (about a 30 minutes drive), we finally have internet at home again.<br />
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What's more, for the first time we have a smart phone, aka a mobile social isolation device (look at me, I'm surrounded by people and yet totally oblivious to their presence). Heather finally couldn't take using an old fashioned flip phone any longer, so I agreed to pay the monthly charges if she would buy the phone. Heather went with a Samsung Galaxy III, and I get to pay the monthly bill for unlimited calls, text and data (with throttling after 5 gigs). We can even tether devices to the phone, hence the ability to post a blog from home again. I just got done doing some banking online and it felt marvelous.<br />
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I have to say that while having no internet at home was tough at times, it definitely forced us to wean ourselves off of our connected dependency. I even got totally off of Facebook during this time, and don't feel particularly inclined to get back on, though I may eventually.<br />
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But on to the really exciting part. Heather's phone is super cool! After playing with it a while I realized two things. 1. This phone is more complicated than my iPod touch, in a good way. 2. I may have to get one of these things. Unfortunately the budget isn't ready to absorb a second phone right now, but someday in the future I expect I will finish the final migration into the present. In the meantime the iPod touch will just have to suffice.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-76177375448816521942013-01-28T14:57:00.000-06:002013-01-28T14:57:03.762-06:00Slug and Bug Go to a PartyAs promised last week, I am sitting down to tell a tale worthy of human consumption. Tiny humans at least. I even created some cover art on the fly using an app on Heather's iPad that let's you draw by hand on the screen. I'm not exactly artistic and the app is far from user friendly - it's almost impossible to do circles, as evidenced by the output below, but it's fully digital and not really any worse than what I would draw on paper. But I'm definitely too lazy to make a picture for each page, so you will just have to use your imagination. Each paragraph marks a new page. Without further adieu...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeLUyDRd8wS6Ar5wGgAVoMb4xxmKmRuCPcoCDv06Awtlt69hB6PQYdWF990Chqb71C6nyThq6llj8yZL9owayTiFuei_aIMuhd-YMs8io9Cnua4JDtozjSZlb8tx3V8hv59mGF2VzkWOw/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeLUyDRd8wS6Ar5wGgAVoMb4xxmKmRuCPcoCDv06Awtlt69hB6PQYdWF990Chqb71C6nyThq6llj8yZL9owayTiFuei_aIMuhd-YMs8io9Cnua4JDtozjSZlb8tx3V8hv59mGF2VzkWOw/s400/photo+(1).JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Slug was not happy today. Slug did not have to go to school today. Slug did not have a headache. Slug had no work to do today, and felt perfectly well. But slug was not happy, because slug was going to a party.<br />
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Bug yelled "Hurry up Slug, we don't want to be late!" Bug was Slug's best friend. Bug loved parties, but Slug did not. <br />
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Slug would rather read a book<br />
<br />
or climb a tree<br />
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or play at the park. Slug did not like parties because Slug liked peace and quiet. And there is never peace or quiet at a party.<br />
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"What's the hurry?" asked Slug. "The party will last for hours. Can't we wait a little longer to go?" <br />
"No" said Bug. "I want to go now. There are so many people to see and things to do!"<br />
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"We will play fun games!"<br />
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"We will eat delicious food!"<br />
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"We will talk to all of our friends!"<br />
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"I would rather spend my time with just one friend", said Slug. "But I will go to the party because you want to go.<br />
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So Slug went to the party, and he ate the food, and played the games, and talked to the other guests. At the end of the night he was exhausted, but he had a good time. More importantly, his best friend Bug had a wonderful evening, which would not have been the same if Slug was not there.<br />
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"Thank you for coming to the party, Slug. Tomorrow maybe we can go to the park and spend the day together" said Bug. "I would like that very much" said Slug.<br />
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As Slug drifted off to sleep, he was glad he went to the party, and he was even more glad he had Bug for a best friend. Then he dreamed about playing in the park with Bug.<br />
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The End<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-59121223301409333662013-01-21T11:39:00.001-06:002013-01-21T11:39:29.981-06:00A Publisher's DreamWriting a blog isn't always easy - at least if your goal is to write entries that some human being may find reasonably interesting more often than not. It certainly is easier than writing a book, or so I imagine. Putting together a story that spans several hundred pages exceeds anything I can imagine being within the confines of my limited attention span. However, as I look back on my childhood I can't help but think the easiest book to write must surely be a Children's book.<br />
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In some ways writing a book for kids must be tough - you have to use a limited vocabulary and sentence structures. On the other hand, there's no need for deep character development, plot twists or lengthy narrative. Of course a good artist is a must, but I assume a publishing company would provide that. So I am tempted to try my hand at writing a Children's book. How hard could it be?<br />
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The key to a good book for small children, besides strong paper that is tear and water resistant, and a talented artist to populate the pages with your imaginary world, is friendly characters that tend to be animal based. No three year old wants to hear a story about a bunch of kids in a daycare. They want to hear about bears in the woods, or a puppy that gets a new home. Of course the characters generally walk and talk like humans, oftentimes even wearing clothing. This allows a tale to be told that is distinctly human, while more stimulating to the imagination. Or maybe book illustrators just prefer drawing animals. Either way, animal characters are the way to go.<br />
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I'm thinking my story will revolve around two typical garden creatures, perhaps a slug and a ladybug, aptly named "Slug" and "Bug". It will be filled with action-packed lines like "Slug was not happy today" and "Bug yelled 'hurry up Slug, we don't want to be late!'" Unlike other authors, I will not try to totally humanize my characters to the point where they lose all connection to their place in the real world though. This will lead to a story more compelling and realistic. At least that's how I envision it. But not until next week. I'm spent.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-86211428128344786682013-01-06T14:48:00.001-06:002013-01-06T14:48:34.367-06:00The Dog Days of WinterEvery once in a while I go to a website for one of our local animal shelters and browse to see if any of the dogs catch my eye. Heather and I live about as unencumbered a life as possible, considering the fact that there is nothing that depends upon us for life, be it child, pet, or even plant. I suppose the dust mites in our bed sheets might wither away without the flakes of skin that we contribute to their diet, a sort of manna from heaven for such tiny creatures if you will, but I don't know if they would actually perish or not. Besides, if you are microscopic you don't count.<br />
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Needless to say, I was actually interested in the look of a small-medium sized dog that was estimated to be a terrier mix. Surprisingly, when I showed the picture to Heather she also was interested, so we decided to pay a visit to the local pound. Unfortunately, this particular dog was adopted before we got a chance to see him, but we did stroll around and look at the rest of the inmates. If you have never been to an animal shelter, it's pretty depressing. The dogs would approach us from behind their chain linked cages and look with sad eyes at us as if they knew that we, like most visitors, would probably not be taking them home. Some shivered in the cold, others barked excitedly, while some just looked at us as we passed by.<br />
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It's hard to get a feel for a dog's personality in such confines, but we did get to spend some one-on-one time with three of the dogs. Not surprisingly they all spent the majority of their time checking out their new surroundings when we took them for a walk, and focused mainly on investigating the smells they encountered while ensuring they left their own scent behind in various locations. I'm thankful that human beings developed the handshake to introduce ourselves, so there's no need to urinate in various high traffic areas to say hi to others.<br />
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Unfortunately, none of the three dogs we checked out seemed the right fit, although one, a lab mix wouldn't be a bad dog at all. She had the look and more importantly the temperament of a black lab but was more medium than large sized, due apparently to whatever other breed was involved in what was undoubtedly a passionate but unapproved exchange on a sultry night in Texas. (I wonder if dogs call it "doing it our style"?) I think Heather and I are ready to take on the responsibility of having a pet, but we will have to wait a bit longer to find the right one.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-76375202122009048982012-12-26T14:50:00.001-06:002019-07-19T10:20:08.021-05:00Enjoying the Shade of the Family TreeThis year Heather and I are enjoying a holiday at my brother's house, which means we get to enjoy spending some time with him and his wife, as well as their four children. It's interesting to see the family traits, both physical and personality wise, that you grew up with showing their form in a new generation of children. Voracious reader - check. Smaller than average stature - check. Excelling at school without trying - check. Lack of appreciable social skills - check. Zero body fat and high muscle density - check. Stubborn to a fault - check.<br />
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Of course knowing your family's personality quirks can be quite fun. When I noticed that my 15 year old nephew had a bit of a beach fuzz mustache and goatee, I told him "10 bucks says that when my dad sees you he'll look you over like he's performing some kind of medical evaluation and say "What's that on your chin, it looks like something's growing there - did you forget to shave, son?" or something to that effect." I didn't actually hear dad say anything about Bryan's budding beard, but Bryan did walk up to me about 10 minutes after dad arrived and said "Somebody owes you ten dollars". It took a few seconds to register what he was talking about. Then I just smiled and nodded.<br />
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The highlight of Christmas so far, though, has been the trip with mom this morning to Hardees for cinnamon raisin biscuits. I wasn't even hungry, but I love me some cinnamon raisin biscuits, and they don't even sell them at the Hardees in San Antonio where I live! I guess Texans just don't have a taste for them. I had two and they were delicious. Too bad I have to drive 1000 miles to get them.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-25183604228670845952012-12-16T11:11:00.000-06:002012-12-16T11:11:18.358-06:00It's Like Secret Deodorant, For my FeetWhen I was a kid I used to get a new pair of house shoes every year. They all looked the same, except for being slightly larger to accommodate my growing feet. The inside was a pale yellow fleece, while the exterior was a manila envelope brown vinyl. I have terrible circulation in my feet, despite having veins there as large as some people have leading into their hearts. Because of this my slippers were always on my feet, and since I only got one pair a year at Christmas, I had to make them last.<br />
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It didn't take long for the fleece to get matted to a nearly flat constitution, and eventually my big toes would work a hole in the bottoms of the soles. The fact that the soles were made of the same thin vinyl as the rest of the shoe probably didn't help their longevity, but this was easily fixed with a couple of pieces of duct tape. Before Christmas came around I would have some duct tape on the bottom of the heel as well. Sure it looked ghetto, but it worked. As a bonus, they didn't increase the friction of the shoes, so I could still run full speed and slide around corners in the house, which I'm sure my mom appreciated.<br />
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For years Heather would have to make an annual trek to Kmart, to get the modern version of my childhood house shoes, as they were the only place to find them. This was an absolute act of love, as Heather hates Kmart, with a hatred as deep as the hate between cats and dogs. Over the years the color had gotten darker brown, but not much else had changed. I really don't like the moccasin shoes with the heavy sole, or any slippers that seem to be designed to allow me to wear them for a walk around the block. I want them light, warm, and flexible. So I was dismayed when even Kmart stopped carrying my favorite house shoes. In hindsight, I should have bought a lifetime supply, but how was I to know?<br />
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Last year Heather found a semi-suitable substitute at Walmart, but I couldn't help but look longingly at her purple slippers, that have an exterior which is like shag carpeting, and which terminates just above her ankle. The interior is super soft and warm, and the sole is thin and pliable. So when I found a similar pair at the store, except in blue (they look like someone killed Cookie Monster and made slippers from his hide), I was intrigued by the thought...could my feet fit into a women's extra large?<br />
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The answer, if you're curious, is heck yeah! My feet now luxuriate in some awesome house slippers as I traipse around the house. I love my house shoes, no matter what gender they were designed for. They may not fit in with my den covered in deer heads and stuffed water fowl, but then, I don't have one of those, so that's ok. And they aren't so overtly feminine that I feel like I should be wearing them with pink leotards or something. Besides, who would wear pink leotards these days?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-3086974475872008902012-12-02T13:08:00.002-06:002012-12-02T13:08:57.482-06:00A Perilous SituationThere is a lot of attention these days in the news about the coming Fiscal Cliff. This refers to a host of economy dampeners that are set to take effect on January 1st. The end of the Bush era tax cuts, a resumption of higher social security tax rates, stoppage of extended unemployment benefits, and more. I am deeply concerned, not so much about the fiscal cliff, but another even more cataclysmic event that is on our horizon.<br />
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I am speaking about something you are probably already aware of and may think you have already come to terms with: the Twinkie Cliff. <br />
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That's right, thanks to labor issues and poor management, Hostess announced recently that they are going out of business, and that means no more Twinkies rolling off the bakery assembly line. You may not realize it now, but there is a serious crisis coming.<br />
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We probably won't notice at first. Most of us don't eat Twinkies every day, and there are other companies that offer similar products. But eventually there are those among us, and you just may be one of them, who will want a Twinkie, a real honest to goodness bit of golden creme-filled heaven on earth with a little cowboy hat wearing cartoon pastry on the box, and then will come the sad realization. The Twinkie is dead. <br />
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There are some things you just don't appreciate until they are gone. Like Styrofoam fast food containers, and music videos on MTV. But if the Rolling Stones, who's member's average age is greater than the average age of the Supreme Court justices (I'm not kidding) can make a come back, who's to say the Twinkie won't be resurrected by another bakery company? I'm optimistically holding out hope for this solution. It seems more feasible than politicians in Washington getting their collective acts together. And I have a feeling we're going to need a lot of comfort food in the next few years.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-41394704176337611112012-11-17T10:56:00.001-06:002012-11-17T10:56:18.750-06:00Shooting for the Stars<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">After a conversation cropped up at work about shooting homemade rockets, I decided it would be fun if a bunch of us got together and had our own launch day. To this end I sent out the following email to everyone in my section: </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Greetings, Earthlings!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">You are hereby invited to participate in an informal rocket club, whose name is TBD, but for now we will just call it the Recreational Orbit-seeking Club using Kits assembled In Texas, or ROCK IT! I know there are some of you who would argue that this really spells ROSCUKAIT; I invite you to come up with a better name and we will vote on it. There are no entry fee or dues associated with club membership, which consists of 2 levels:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Level 1 (Rocketeer): Build, paint, and name your own rocket. Shoot it into space (or at least into the lower troposphere). Bonus points awarded for originality of name, paint job, or other external modification. Extra bonus points for unique payloads. Don't worry if you know nothing about building a rocket - I don't either, but I hear there are kits you can buy that are fairly cheap and easy to assemble.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Level 2 (Spectaculator): You're more than a spectator, you're spectacular! One part fan club, one part heckler, it doesn't matter, so long as you show up to watch the rocketeers' amazing successes and possibly more amazing failures. Can a horned toad really launch on a rocket? You don't want to settle for second hand stories around the water cooler (or under powered microwave), you want to see for yourself!</span></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">If you're interested in joining this exclusive club (only people with a working pancreas can participate) let me know what level you would like to be, and you will get to help pick the first build and launch dates!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">If you are not interested, no negative replies required - I realize some of you have active social lives/are not particularly enamored with the idea of shooting things into the sky. I don't understand it, but I accept it.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">The amazing thing isn't how many people are interested in building a rocket (nearly everyone, as it turns out), but how many responses I got with suggested acronyms for the club's name. Apparently the only thing more fun than blasting a rocket into the sky is coming up with a group of words that acronymize (yes, I said it) into a witty name. Who knew?</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-45573339661928566262012-11-11T10:44:00.001-06:002012-11-11T10:44:46.794-06:00Loving the RedboxAs I was renting a movie today from my local Redbox, I couldn't help but reflect on how amazing it is that I can rent a Blueray movie for less than a buck fifty, with tax. When I was a kid, a VHS movie was 2 bucks. At least, I think it was. We didn't actually get a VCR until I was in 8th grade, and even then we rarely rented movies, but from what I remember it was $2 at Blockbuster. The last time I went to that establishment which is not surprisingly headed for bankruptcy, it was $4 for a rental. And yet here it is, a few years later, and I can get a new release for a fraction of that price, and I don't even have to interact with another human being to do it. You gotta love America.<br />
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Speaking of movies, Abraham Lincoln has had a busy year, as his second movie is coming out this week. Apparently this one was less physically challenging than the last, where he purportedly turned to a body double for some of the more intense action sequences. I still haven't seen either movie, and will look forward to getting them at the Redbox in the next few months.<br />
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The one bad thing about the Redbox is that the outdoor one I use comes with a sunscreen that is totally worthless at actually preventing the sun from washing out the screen, but that you have to hold up the entire time you're browsing movies. Really, no one could come up with a button, clip, or velcro to keep this thing out of the way if I don't want to hold it? C'mon guys, you're letting me down here. Not just me, but millions of other lazy, cheap Americans. I know you can do better.<br />
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I will close by advising you not to take your significant other with you to the Redbox. It's much easier to just come home with a movie to watch. There's nothing more aggravating than watching movie after movie that you would like to see go scrolling by, only to have the other person pick some lame Romantic comedy to watch. At least that's what Heather tells me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-42086720854965642622012-11-04T15:44:00.001-06:002019-07-19T10:22:44.634-05:00Vote Early, Vote OftenIt's early November, which means it that time of year again, when politicians spend millions of dollars to convince us to not vote for their opponents. As much as I hate the negative ads and political punditry, we still live in one of the greatest nations in the history of mankind. I think Luxembourg has us beat, but that's only because they offer free pizza for life. Takeout only.<br />
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Remember, there are starving kids in China, and if that country were a democracy the politicians there would be forced to pander to those kids' parents by making promises they never intend to keep. Sure, their kids would still be starving, but at least they could go to sleep at night believing that their government really cared about them, not just about becoming the world's next superpower. <br />
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We already are a superpower, and with great power comes great responsibility. Part of that responsibility is making your voice heard. So do some research on the issues. Look into your heart. Then head to the polls and for goodness sake ensure you punch the hole cleanly through. In a few weeks you can tell your kin around the dining table that you're thankful that you live in a free country where you get to help decide who is in power, whether your candidate won or not. And be even more thankful that you won't have to watch any more political attack ads for at least 6 months. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-20824686147695093202012-10-28T14:16:00.000-05:002012-10-28T14:16:03.651-05:00The Foolproof Coffeemaker (Isn't)Coffee, one of man's greatest discoveries. I have had a cup of Joe every morning before heading to work for many years now, but a few months ago I decided to take my coffee habit into the office with a small coffee making device. Using only this piece of plastic, which holds the filter, plus of course a filter and coffee grounds, hot water and gravity, I can make one cup of caffeinated bliss. Of course, this low-tech solution soon brought me the derision of some coworkers, but I stood by its utility. Eventually, though, even I had to admit that it was not as classy as the more well-known one cup coffee system. Unfortunately, I don't rate having a secretary (the original one cup of coffee system), but I can afford a Keurig, so I went with that upgrade for my desk.<br />
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For those of you not familiar with this particular technological marvel, you simply open a hatch, put in a "k-cup" (pre-measured with coffee, sealed until use, and ridiculously expensive per serving compared to just buying grounds and filters) and hit a button. A minute later, you have a cup of coffee Unless you forgot to put your mug under the spout, then you have a wet, messy, albeit delicious smelling desk.<br />
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For those of us that are cheap, there is another option called "my k-cup". it is a plastic device that holds a small reusable filter, allowing you to fill it with coffee grounds yourself. The entire thing has a screw on lid, which you attach prior to placing it in the Keurig where the k-cup goes. Of course, this thing is bigger than a k-cup so you have to remove another plastic piece that normally holds the k-cup in place. Before you use another k-cup you must replace this piece, or else the k-cup will sit in the coffee maker, but the water will not properly pass through the k-cup, but will instead end up squirting all over the coffee maker.<br />
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I know this, because I made that mistake last week. I'm sure my boss and coworkers were all amused listening to my reaction when I turned around from the whiteboard where I had been working , expecting to find a fresh cup of coffee, but instead finding a big mess. It went something like this "What the....(opening lid to see if there is any indication what went wrong, realizing I didn't put the k-cup holder back in) AAAARGH!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!! I bring in some cream from home, and instead of making some delicious coffee I forget to put the piece in?! You've got to be kidding me!!!" I quickly calmed down, and made myself a cup of coffee the right way once I had cleaned up my mess. <br />
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Needless to say, later on when one of the guys I work with made a mistake with the copy machine he got a bit distraught, then told me he had "pulled a Morrell". "What did you do?" I asked, assuming he would relate what mistake he had made. "Something stupid" he said. "Oh, wait, I didn't mean it that way". I let him know that I knew what he meant, and hadn't taken it the wrong way, although I appreciated him putting 2 and 2 together for me, as I hadn't made the connection between the obvious secondary meaning and what he was really trying to convey. Hopefully my name doesn't become associated with making laughable errors in the workplace. If so, I wonder if I can get that copyrighted. Let me make some coffee and think on that one a while...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-17806681314381932732012-10-20T14:33:00.003-05:002012-10-20T14:33:39.066-05:00A Letter From MomLast week we deactivated our lousy Cricket cell service, and had our number moved from our Cricket phone to our backup Tracphone cell. We assumed this transfer would be seamless, but after our old number was deactivated we learned that our phone would be inoperable until we received a new sim card to use the new number. This left us without any phone service for a couple of days, which really isn't a big deal, because almost nobody calls us anyway.<br />
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As fate would have it, my mom decided to call us and was aggravated to learn that our number was disconnected. This week I got the following letter in the mail:<br />
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Brad and Heather,<br />
You need to call and let us (the parents) know a ph # that works. The number you text is not yours. I called Larry and he doesn't have it either. Please Call. Love Mom. PS. Cards beat Nationals and are now playing the Giants and they are on Fox.<br />
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Of course by the time I got this letter we had already reactivated our phone, but I was really tempted to send mom the following letter:<br />
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Dear Mom,<br />
We inadvertently disconnected our phone for a couple of days. Sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused you. PS. I know my brother Jerry works for the Post Office, but I think it's a bit overly optimistic to think I will get a letter from you before a baseball game you are watching is over. Thanks for the heads up though.<br />
Your Son.<br />
Brad<br />
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I guess on the bright side it was kind of nice to get a letter in the mail, although when I got an envelope from mom I was kind of hoping it was an early Birthday check. Maybe next time.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-14899270284503250662012-10-13T11:25:00.000-05:002012-10-13T12:41:41.971-05:00Who's Your Soccer Mama?It's been a physical fitness couple of weeks for me. First there was Wingman Day, a day where the Air Force takes some down time to contemplate taking care of ourselves and each other. It was decided that we should have a competition between the offices at work, and each section had to field a team. I didn't really want to participate, since I had my annual PT test coming up the following week, but decided running one leg of the 4 x 100 wouldn't kill me. Then one of our guys claimed a bum foot, so I ended up running the first and last leg, which wouldn't have been so bad but the track was an asphalt lane around a softball field that dropped about 30 ft in elevation for the first half, then left you climbing back up on the back half. Doing that twice at a near sprint is not as easy as it sounds, and it really doesn't sound that easy. Throw in some lunges in a later competition and my legs were pretty used up.<br />
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The following week was my PT test - pushups, situps, and a 1.5 mile run. I like running with music but I haven't been using my iPod during my speed work to prepare for the test, and I figured it was best to test as I trained, so I reluctantly left the music behind. We got up to the starting line and took off. The track is a meandering course that is 1.5 miles in length, which I prefer to running in circles around a quarter mile oval track. And with my GPS watch, I am able to track time, distance, current and average pace. That is, once I hit the start button. Apparently I didn't press the button hard enough when we took off, because when I glanced down to see what my pace was it registered zero. By the time I figured out what had happened it was too late to help me, so I was left running blind as far as keeping my pace goes. It was quite aggravating, although I did make my goal time. If I wasn't going to do my regular routine I guess I could have brought my music after all.<br />
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The following day we started a new initiative here to do PT as a group on Thursday afternoons. If you've never played soccer, it's pretty tiring and really can make you sore, due to the sudden starting, stopping, and shifts in direction. Doing this the day after my PT test certainly sent me a friendly reminder of the fact I'm not getting any younger. I've been hobbling around the last couple of days while bruises, cuts, blisters and stiff muscles slowly recover. On the bright side, not only did I score a couple of goals, but more importantly, I was able to steal the ball from our British exchange officer once. Not only is he about 6 foot 6, but more importantly, he's British! Beating him head to head at soccer was like showing up Eminem at a rapping duel. Even if it did only happen once, it was the highlight of my week.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-41996840908620822852012-10-05T22:36:00.002-05:002012-10-05T22:36:26.259-05:00A Blast From My Past<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yesterday I excitedly opened a brown package that arrived in
the mail. Inside was a book that I
ordered last week on Amazon. In
preparation for my Mom’s visit last week I had been unpacking some boxes, and
came across my childhood book collection, or at least the portion that I have
in my possession. Having two brothers
many of the books that I read as a child and considered part of the Morrell library belonged to my brothers, so many a familiar book is now in their
possession. Being a bookworm I read
every book in our house multiple times.
From “The Man Who Didn’t Wash His Dishes” to Steinbeck’s “The Pearl”, if
it was made of paper and didn't have legs to run away, it found its way into my
grubby little hands. And I mean that
literally – when I was young I refused to bathe more than every other day, and I had
quite petite hands, even for a child. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As I was reminiscing and leafing through old classics I read
and reread as a boy, I noticed that one of my favorite books, one that had
actually been my own and not my brothers’, was missing. I couldn't remember the name of it, but it
was one of those books where you make decisions throughout the book which leads
to glory or destruction, depending on your choice. The original and best known series of this
type was called “Choose Your Own Adventure”, but when I did a web search for “Choose
Your Own Adventure” books, I was unsuccessful at finding this favorite of mine. I know because although I couldn't remember
the title, I do remember that this particular book had a spaceship with a large
grey spider on the cover.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I told my mom about this and she called my brother Steve, who relayed that it was probably a “Which Way Book” (apparently he had tried to track one down as well, and got that information from a librarian), so I put that into my search and there it was: “Space Raiders and the Planet of Doom”. I still remember getting that book and reading it in the gym when I was in the fourth grade. I made it through several pages before it was time to go to class, and couldn’t wait to get home to finish the story. I still remember landing the spaceship on the planet, covered with such a thick fog that there was no telling what was below, or if a landing was even possible!</div>
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So this week I have enjoyed going back through the book and choosing my way along the various story lines again. I think I’m doing a better job this time around making choices that don’t end in my death. Perhaps somewhere subconsciously I remember to not eat the giant mushrooms. Or maybe I’m just a lot better at making good decisions at 37 than I was at 9. Whatever the case, it was totally worth the seven bucks it cost me to purchase this little piece of my childhood!<br /><div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixeXaG_7h40MwK0QQuP2qC7BNszbWpupxs0UH6LIM_AFW891tZvrUQoTBk-G0XFpKQEf0Ry0EeKd5us_gAX6sy6Jk9FeT1XFeImMQnwLJvoLmH9Zuua8jPh05TsrNnqLckKbFfqgjdDn8/s1600/book+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixeXaG_7h40MwK0QQuP2qC7BNszbWpupxs0UH6LIM_AFW891tZvrUQoTBk-G0XFpKQEf0Ry0EeKd5us_gAX6sy6Jk9FeT1XFeImMQnwLJvoLmH9Zuua8jPh05TsrNnqLckKbFfqgjdDn8/s320/book+cover.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-22588000355236973972012-09-26T14:39:00.000-05:002012-09-26T14:39:25.788-05:00Some Assembly Required It wasn't long ago that I had to assemble bunk beds that we bought for visiting friends and family with kids. One of the dowels that connects the bottom bunk to top bunk was missing, and rather than try to get a replacement part ordered by spending half an hour wading though voice prompts and trying to describe the part to a customer service rep halfway around the world, I opted to drive down to Lowe's, buy a dowel rod for a couple of bucks and cut it down to size.<br />
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Then as I was putting together an office chair that I had bought the other day, it dawned on me that there was a time when you could go to the store and purchase furniture and it would arrive already assembled. I'm sure the furniture companies save a lot of money by using the consumer for free labor, but why do we accept this imposition when we buy a computer desk but not for other products? Can you imagine buying an iPad or digital camera and getting a box of parts and a soldering iron with instructions in French, Spanish and bad English poorly describing how to put all the parts together to get your finished product? Am I the only one that thinks we're letting the businesses that sell us components, parts and fittings in the guise of finished products off easy?<br />
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I suppose it could be worse. I mean, the company that sold me a fake Christmas tree makes me put that sucker together every year. At least I only have to put my office furniture together once. Although in all fairness, I suppose I could assemble the tree once and just decorate it every winter. The rest of the year I could pretend it is an evergreen tree growing in my loft. Hmm, not a bad idea, actually.<br />
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Of course the idea of charging the customer full price for reduced services is not limited to cheap furniture from China. They now have restaurants where you can cook your own meal. Hey, thanks, but I've already got a place for doing that, it's called my kitchen. Sometimes I wonder if the world's going crazy or if I'm just missing out on awesome marketing opportunities. I need to brainstorm some ideas for saving labor by having the customers do what paid workers would normally accomplish. Jack in the Box put digital ordering systems in their restaurants so they can fire the kid behind the counter making minimum wage to punch in "Sourdough Burger Combo", so I'm too late for that one, but I'm sure there are other opportunities out there. I just need to keep my eyes open and never underestimate the power of changing the paradigm while nobody's looking.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7592554294660705321.post-90368213553349784322012-09-18T13:26:00.000-05:002012-09-18T13:26:03.026-05:00The Long Arm of the Law<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Not too long ago I found myself on the wrong side of the law. It wasn’t the first time I had been caught transgressing our nation’s driving laws. The last time I was pulled over for speeding was extremely annoying. Allow me to set the scene. I was staying at a lodge in the mountains with friends, the majority of whom were skiing at the mountain which this lodge conveniently was located at, or Breckinridge to be precise. I, being the frugal (or cheap, depending on your point of view) person that I am, having purchased a season pass to another set of slopes, opted to take the 30 minute drive up the road to ski there rather than skiing with everybody else. I don’t remember the cost of the tickets but this saved me somewhere in the ballpark of $120 over a two day period.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Imagine the bitter irony, when, only about a half mile from the lodge, I was pulled over for speeding through the tiny town of Breckinridge. Sadly, I had just noticed that my speed was a bit high, and had already started slowing down when I saw the police car behind me. Needless to say, the ticket I received cost me more than it would have cost me to simply ski the very mountain where I was staying. Aggravation really isn’t a strong enough word to express my sentiments about that point in time, but what are you going to do?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Flash forward almost 3 years, as my speeding ticket is finally about to drop off my record, dropping my insurance rates back down (no, I wasn’t even counting that cost in the equation), and here I found myself with a police car following me once again with its lights flashing. This time I was driving on a country road where the speed limit is inexplicably only 40 mph. As it turns out, I was doing 50, but that wasn’t the surprising part of my conversation with the police officer. The surprising part came when he asked me about my Illinois plates and I explained that I am in the military. He actually gave me a warning ticket and thanked me for my service! I had heard of warning tickets before, but as someone who has been pulled over several times and never received one, somehow they were in the realm of semi-believable entities, like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster. I don’t know if I like Texas or not but I do like Texans!<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0