It's October 2013. David has arrived for his April 2013 Vacation.
It's also one of those things. Schedules change and life gets in the way. April slid into May and we were not really set for having visitors in those two months. Lettie left, Rack arrived...
The Summer is a busy season for the locals in Key West. All you people coming from other places in the cooler weather thinking that life's all Margaritaville forget that sometimes you have to pick up the palm fronds, repair fences, and pick up the beer bottles that got left behind. That job still will happen whether you like to go outside and do it or not.
My own version of that was the Power Washing of the deck that isn't quite finished.
Yeah, I'll get to it. Chill out and have a glass of iced tea. Sorry, we don't generally keep the "hard stuff" in the house.
The Hurricane Season peaked and began to ebb. Now the cooler parts of the day are absolutely perfect. You have arrived for our Secret Season. Snowbirds haven't yet fled the frozen tundra of the North. They're still bragging about their Fall Colors, and this would have been the week to take the roof off of the Jeep and drive up the Delaware River to the Water Gap and have a picnic on the little park by the water.
But you're here now, let's settle in and have a chat. Talk about times gone by. Brother-From-Another-Mother, we've known each other since the mid '80s. I was on vacation, you stayed there ever since.
It's good having you here. I roasted for you this morning a special "Half-Caff" blend. Estate Grown Guatemalan Regular and Decaf in equal parts to a Full City Roast. Enjoy that, no I don't need the jar back, and we can "Do Lunch" later.
You're leaving after a long weekend? Sorry to hear that, we'll have to make it count.
An Open Letter To My Sister, or Whatever Pops Into My Head at the Time...
Friday, October 11, 2013
Thursday, October 10, 2013
1500 Posts? Is It Time For A Vacation Yet?
Yep, you read right. This is my 1500th post.
Good grief.
This blog started July 30, 2009. I don't know what I had in mind then, but basically that one post just said hello and promised more.
Whether anyone wanted more or not didn't matter, here it is.
I took a bit of a rest, cleared my head and then came back to it about a month later. First a random post here, another there, then three times a week.
The blog has been at least one article, or joke, every day since September 11, 2009.
All 1500 of them.
It seems traditional to give a review of the most popular articles each time you do one of these things. I've had a few bizarrely popular articles. It seems to show what this blog is about.
Recipes, Reviews, and Pictures.
The number one post was my recipe for Biscuits. It is lifted right from the back of the Gold Medal Self Rising Biscuit bag, and it gets hit almost every day by some cook somewhere. Let me tell you, they're mind-bendingly good, but you really do need to go and find the post on how to make butter in the food processor. Add them together and it's something that is an experience.
The second most read post is a picture of an Impatiens flower. We had them in a pot in front of the door that now has some succulents that were given to us a while back. The thing is that the irrigation flooded the pot every morning and one of the seeds ended up in the little "ditch" in front of the front garden. That flower's gone but not forgotten. Maybe we should try them again - only if we can keep the snails out!
Number three? It's a recipe. More accurately a review of my own ineptness. I tried making Pineapple Jelly out of some leftover cans from Hurricane Season. I got a slurry that was tasty but way too loose. I re-cooked that jelly and it thickened nicely. After discussing it with a friend in Atlanta, Craig just told me to send it to him. He said he enjoyed the slurry on ice-cream like a topping. Waste not, Want not!
To round out the top five, I have two tech articles. One told you how to stop hotmail from doing annoying things, another reviewed a website called SimplyHired.com . Hotmail is "dead", having been co-opted into the supremely annoying Outlook.com. SimplyHired is a job search website that I really don't care for. Yet another "aggregator" of jobs that I look at to see if I missed anything.
These tech articles tend to have "staying power". In fact all of the top five posts were not very popular when I wrote them but they get hit frequently. People seek out help all the time online and anything like that will get read over and over by people who stumble over the same problems you have. Someone out there has found the problem, may have figured out the solution, and will follow up by writing a page or three.
Good grief.
This blog started July 30, 2009. I don't know what I had in mind then, but basically that one post just said hello and promised more.
Whether anyone wanted more or not didn't matter, here it is.
I took a bit of a rest, cleared my head and then came back to it about a month later. First a random post here, another there, then three times a week.
The blog has been at least one article, or joke, every day since September 11, 2009.
All 1500 of them.
It seems traditional to give a review of the most popular articles each time you do one of these things. I've had a few bizarrely popular articles. It seems to show what this blog is about.
Recipes, Reviews, and Pictures.
The number one post was my recipe for Biscuits. It is lifted right from the back of the Gold Medal Self Rising Biscuit bag, and it gets hit almost every day by some cook somewhere. Let me tell you, they're mind-bendingly good, but you really do need to go and find the post on how to make butter in the food processor. Add them together and it's something that is an experience.
The second most read post is a picture of an Impatiens flower. We had them in a pot in front of the door that now has some succulents that were given to us a while back. The thing is that the irrigation flooded the pot every morning and one of the seeds ended up in the little "ditch" in front of the front garden. That flower's gone but not forgotten. Maybe we should try them again - only if we can keep the snails out!
Number three? It's a recipe. More accurately a review of my own ineptness. I tried making Pineapple Jelly out of some leftover cans from Hurricane Season. I got a slurry that was tasty but way too loose. I re-cooked that jelly and it thickened nicely. After discussing it with a friend in Atlanta, Craig just told me to send it to him. He said he enjoyed the slurry on ice-cream like a topping. Waste not, Want not!
To round out the top five, I have two tech articles. One told you how to stop hotmail from doing annoying things, another reviewed a website called SimplyHired.com . Hotmail is "dead", having been co-opted into the supremely annoying Outlook.com. SimplyHired is a job search website that I really don't care for. Yet another "aggregator" of jobs that I look at to see if I missed anything.
These tech articles tend to have "staying power". In fact all of the top five posts were not very popular when I wrote them but they get hit frequently. People seek out help all the time online and anything like that will get read over and over by people who stumble over the same problems you have. Someone out there has found the problem, may have figured out the solution, and will follow up by writing a page or three.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
I'm Sorry, It has Six Months To Live. Windows XP Is Dying.
Sure, lets be melodramatic for a bit. I kept thinking of a doctor's office with dark walnut book cases and the doctor talking to the patient in hushed tones.
I guess I watch too much TV.
We had this discussion last night. Sitting on the bench, Bill, Kevin, and I, and our dogs Rack and Ellie, were watching life go by. Bill's Mom, Lisa, has an aged Windows XP computer. We may be able to get some more use out of it by adding more memory since it only has 1 GB. Maybe not. But the thing that most needs to change is Windows XP.
On April, 8, 2014, Windows XP support from Microsoft will end. Customers who pay lots of money will get support, but that won't help you since Microsoft won't be sharing that with the world.
All of the dates for the end of life of Microsoft Windows are on this page. You are safe with Windows 7 until 2020, although I suspect that you will find your software won't work with it near the end. Things might get a bit "weird".
There are reports of people writing viruses to be set out into "the wild" on April 9, 2014 to create havoc.
Bot-nets, Trojans, and Viruses, Oh My!
The result is that if you are running XP on your computer on that day or later, you really need to change that to a newer operating system.
So there's the typical decision tree:
If you don't need it, recycle the computer or pass it on to someone who can do that for you. Problem solved!
If you still think you can use it, or you must keep it for "records", or you're just one of those paranoid people who can't stand the idea of your old hard drive falling into someone else's hands, you may be able to upgrade it. Just don't get onto the internet with Windows XP next April. You'll have a bad time of it, eventually.
Bad boys, Bad boys, What'cha gonna do when they come for you?!
Ok, so how do you know whether to upgrade? If you really want to know, here's a great oversimplification of things, but basically:
Checking your memory is easy. Start, find "My Computer" and right click on it. Select Properties and it will be there for you. Whether your machine can take more than what it has in it is another story, and you will have to do that research on the computer vendor's website. Good luck there, there are way too many combinations to fit in the scope of a blog article, so I can't be all that specific.
Personally I have a mix of things here. My older machines are either Linux or Windows 7. While all of my computers are old, and some as old as 10 years old, I haven't had to throw any out due to this XP thing - they're all still serving a purpose. Basically, this is the process I'm going through here as well. Remember your mileage will vary and one size doesn't fit all, you're going to have to actually think this through, but it isn't that tough, I've got faith in you!
I guess I watch too much TV.
We had this discussion last night. Sitting on the bench, Bill, Kevin, and I, and our dogs Rack and Ellie, were watching life go by. Bill's Mom, Lisa, has an aged Windows XP computer. We may be able to get some more use out of it by adding more memory since it only has 1 GB. Maybe not. But the thing that most needs to change is Windows XP.
On April, 8, 2014, Windows XP support from Microsoft will end. Customers who pay lots of money will get support, but that won't help you since Microsoft won't be sharing that with the world.
All of the dates for the end of life of Microsoft Windows are on this page. You are safe with Windows 7 until 2020, although I suspect that you will find your software won't work with it near the end. Things might get a bit "weird".
There are reports of people writing viruses to be set out into "the wild" on April 9, 2014 to create havoc.
Bot-nets, Trojans, and Viruses, Oh My!
The result is that if you are running XP on your computer on that day or later, you really need to change that to a newer operating system.
So there's the typical decision tree:
If you don't need it, recycle the computer or pass it on to someone who can do that for you. Problem solved!
If you still think you can use it, or you must keep it for "records", or you're just one of those paranoid people who can't stand the idea of your old hard drive falling into someone else's hands, you may be able to upgrade it. Just don't get onto the internet with Windows XP next April. You'll have a bad time of it, eventually.
Bad boys, Bad boys, What'cha gonna do when they come for you?!
Ok, so how do you know whether to upgrade? If you really want to know, here's a great oversimplification of things, but basically:
- Windows 8 will work on a machine with 4GB of memory but if you are looking at a computer with XP on it, you're going to be shocked when you start it with Windows 8. You might want to stick with Windows 7.
- You can install Windows 7 or Linux if you have 2GB of memory, an Intel Core Processor, or newer.
- Assuming you need to keep the software and data on the computer, and your older computer has 1GB of memory and won't take any more than that, Windows 7 Home can be installed, but it may be slow. You probably won't want to use it for much more than that "archive" look around for your old records or recipes.
- If you don't need the data and you're comfortable with playing with new software, look into Linux. Specifically Ubuntu Linux. All the software you will need for normal "office" or "web surfing" use is free, including Libre Office to do what your Microsoft Office did for you. One thing to consider with Linux is that there are very few viruses on Linux. I don't even run a virus scanner on my Linux laptops.
- With older computers it gets more complex, but basically Linux will be your only option to use the machine on the web. If the computer can't take 1GB of memory, you really are limited.
Checking your memory is easy. Start, find "My Computer" and right click on it. Select Properties and it will be there for you. Whether your machine can take more than what it has in it is another story, and you will have to do that research on the computer vendor's website. Good luck there, there are way too many combinations to fit in the scope of a blog article, so I can't be all that specific.
Personally I have a mix of things here. My older machines are either Linux or Windows 7. While all of my computers are old, and some as old as 10 years old, I haven't had to throw any out due to this XP thing - they're all still serving a purpose. Basically, this is the process I'm going through here as well. Remember your mileage will vary and one size doesn't fit all, you're going to have to actually think this through, but it isn't that tough, I've got faith in you!
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Visiting the Yappers at the Mobile Dog Park
To my neighbors, especially those with dogs, I'm sorry.
My dog, Rack, is awakening. He is beginning to shake off the mess of being a "Former Shelter Dog" and simply learning how to be a dog.
All.
At.
Once.
We actually do enjoy meeting other dog owners, talking about our dogs, giving each other hints. All that stuff.
But there's a wrinkle, and I'm trying hard to iron that one out.
You see when I got him, he didn't want to associate with anything. People, dogs, or anything else. About a week later, we noticed that he actually wagged his tail at other dogs.
About a week after that, the flood gates began to open, the rainbows shimmered in the skies, and the choir sang out. Rack learned how to like other dogs.
We had a short bit where the other dogs were more assertive than he was. My neighbor's dog, Buster, a smallish mixed breed with some German Shepard in there somewhere, actually climbed on top of Rack despite his being about 1/2 the size of him.
Last night, we were asked to take Buster with us for a walk since his owner hadn't been able to take him out for a week. A cold. He called it "Ebola".
Yeah, there's something nasty going around. I'm laying low and not feeling completely right myself.
Did I mention that Apple Cider Vinegar and Honey tastes like someone squeezed Fish and Chips into a glass? I challenge you to drink that slop without cringing.
But I wouldn't feed that to either Rack or Buster.
Last night Buster did try to dominate Rack. Rack's play now is way too energetic for that. He simply started bouncing all over the little dog. Buster backed off quickly and assumed the Beta Dog position at the back of the pack. Rack's 43 pounds of muscle vs Buster's roughly 25 pounds of pudgy dog who needed a little less food.
Where ya belong little one, back there. Let the front of the pack be for us big dogs, ok?
I have a habit of walking the dog almost immediately after I get up in the morning. If I sleep in to a normal hour instead of my regular two hours or so before sunrise, I end up in the Mobile Dog Park. Mobile Dog Park Time is probably why my body is getting me up around 5:30AM, or earlier.
Mobile Dog Park is what a neighbor calls it when you find yourself walking with a pack of 10 or so dogs. If I'm finding Mobile Dog Park a bit overwhelming, you can imagine what happened with Rack.
He spotted Pepper, the elderly Dalmatian first. We walked down the block after I calmed Rack down. A few vertical leaps of five feet happened, then I got him to sit while Rack dusted the street with his tail for a while.
Ok, we got the Pepper Walk down. He's used to walking with her.
Getting to the end of the block it happened. 10 yappers all at once.
My own belief is that in general, the smaller the dog, the less likely it will be trained well. People don't really know how to make sure the dog comes first and the toy breed is inconsequential.
Place 10 of them together and you have a lot of barking.
A lot of barking is a lot of energy.
Dogs feed off each other's energy.
That means Rack was trying to leap into the air until I got him to sit.
It actually was pretty easy. I'm learning that once I see the speed ramp up on the tail, shorten the leash. He's even starting to sit down on his own as a "trick".
Hi, other dogs, I'll wag my tail furiously and dust the pavement since I'm going to sit down.
Now, if we could just get him to stop the Right Angle Shoulder Wrench trick when we see a Big Truck or Bus.
Once he finally settled down, Rack realized that tiny fussy little yapper dogs are not all that entertaining and decided all for himself that it was time to go somewhere else more interesting.
Whew. The Tightly Coiled Spring is beginning to learn that living life at "11" on the dial is tiring!
My dog, Rack, is awakening. He is beginning to shake off the mess of being a "Former Shelter Dog" and simply learning how to be a dog.All.
At.
Once.
We actually do enjoy meeting other dog owners, talking about our dogs, giving each other hints. All that stuff.
But there's a wrinkle, and I'm trying hard to iron that one out.
You see when I got him, he didn't want to associate with anything. People, dogs, or anything else. About a week later, we noticed that he actually wagged his tail at other dogs.
About a week after that, the flood gates began to open, the rainbows shimmered in the skies, and the choir sang out. Rack learned how to like other dogs.
We had a short bit where the other dogs were more assertive than he was. My neighbor's dog, Buster, a smallish mixed breed with some German Shepard in there somewhere, actually climbed on top of Rack despite his being about 1/2 the size of him.
Last night, we were asked to take Buster with us for a walk since his owner hadn't been able to take him out for a week. A cold. He called it "Ebola".
Yeah, there's something nasty going around. I'm laying low and not feeling completely right myself.
Did I mention that Apple Cider Vinegar and Honey tastes like someone squeezed Fish and Chips into a glass? I challenge you to drink that slop without cringing.
But I wouldn't feed that to either Rack or Buster.
Last night Buster did try to dominate Rack. Rack's play now is way too energetic for that. He simply started bouncing all over the little dog. Buster backed off quickly and assumed the Beta Dog position at the back of the pack. Rack's 43 pounds of muscle vs Buster's roughly 25 pounds of pudgy dog who needed a little less food.
Where ya belong little one, back there. Let the front of the pack be for us big dogs, ok?
I have a habit of walking the dog almost immediately after I get up in the morning. If I sleep in to a normal hour instead of my regular two hours or so before sunrise, I end up in the Mobile Dog Park. Mobile Dog Park Time is probably why my body is getting me up around 5:30AM, or earlier.
Mobile Dog Park is what a neighbor calls it when you find yourself walking with a pack of 10 or so dogs. If I'm finding Mobile Dog Park a bit overwhelming, you can imagine what happened with Rack.
He spotted Pepper, the elderly Dalmatian first. We walked down the block after I calmed Rack down. A few vertical leaps of five feet happened, then I got him to sit while Rack dusted the street with his tail for a while.
Ok, we got the Pepper Walk down. He's used to walking with her.
Getting to the end of the block it happened. 10 yappers all at once.
My own belief is that in general, the smaller the dog, the less likely it will be trained well. People don't really know how to make sure the dog comes first and the toy breed is inconsequential.
Place 10 of them together and you have a lot of barking.
A lot of barking is a lot of energy.
Dogs feed off each other's energy.
That means Rack was trying to leap into the air until I got him to sit.
It actually was pretty easy. I'm learning that once I see the speed ramp up on the tail, shorten the leash. He's even starting to sit down on his own as a "trick".
Hi, other dogs, I'll wag my tail furiously and dust the pavement since I'm going to sit down.
Now, if we could just get him to stop the Right Angle Shoulder Wrench trick when we see a Big Truck or Bus.
Once he finally settled down, Rack realized that tiny fussy little yapper dogs are not all that entertaining and decided all for himself that it was time to go somewhere else more interesting.
Whew. The Tightly Coiled Spring is beginning to learn that living life at "11" on the dial is tiring!
Monday, October 7, 2013
The Sink Is Full, The Grill is in the Yard, and the Lawn is Cut
When we were kids, we knew that we had a good weekend when Monday hit and we were tired.
We'd have skinned knees, or new scratches, or some fresh mud on our sneakers, and we were happy.
Especially the mud. There was this wetland near the house with a high spot that was dry. We'd go out in the tall grasses, through the mud, and get to the high spot. It was "Our Island Home" with a roof of brambles that in season would give sweet blackberries and shelter from the sun.
Later, we went to college and weekends were spent studying, or at a party. I think they scheduled those 8AM lectures just to make sure that the Freshmen would fail out early and move on to a different school leaving behind piles of cash - on purpose. You could tell who would make it by how "hearty" they would party.
Life moved on, people did finally graduate, things would settle out. You have your responsibilities no matter who you are and where you are. Some of that is chosen, the rest is due to the path that you have been given. Nature vs nurture, but all mixed up in the soup called life.
Part of that settling would get rid of some cherished traditions that felt stale. Traditions that no longer added to your life other than holding you back.
You eventually hit a rhythm. You're in a groove. That's the basis of that old '60s word that some people cling to, others are trying to bring back, and I chuckle at.
Groovy.
Things are falling into place.
Then one Monday Morning, you get up late. You're out doing your normal schedule but you run into some people who you don't normally see. It's a time to get caught up with these friends. That is when the question hits.
"So, how was your weekend?"
I had a pat response. "Must have been a good one. The sink is full, the grill is in the yard, and the lawn's cut!".
"Oh...Kay then."
Yep, that's life in suburbia. It's easy to judge when it has been a good weekend. The 20s college buzz has turned into the settled "I've gotten my chores done and the food's been made.".
Sure, it's a grumble when you've forgotten to "tidy up" after visiting with the neighbors, or grilling just the perfect Jerked Chicken with Rice, but it's a good grumble because you chose it.
So lend a hand. If you're going to hover, you had better learn how to load a dishwasher. After all, it takes a full dishwasher to make for a good Suburban Weekend.
We'd have skinned knees, or new scratches, or some fresh mud on our sneakers, and we were happy.
Especially the mud. There was this wetland near the house with a high spot that was dry. We'd go out in the tall grasses, through the mud, and get to the high spot. It was "Our Island Home" with a roof of brambles that in season would give sweet blackberries and shelter from the sun.
Later, we went to college and weekends were spent studying, or at a party. I think they scheduled those 8AM lectures just to make sure that the Freshmen would fail out early and move on to a different school leaving behind piles of cash - on purpose. You could tell who would make it by how "hearty" they would party.
Life moved on, people did finally graduate, things would settle out. You have your responsibilities no matter who you are and where you are. Some of that is chosen, the rest is due to the path that you have been given. Nature vs nurture, but all mixed up in the soup called life.
Part of that settling would get rid of some cherished traditions that felt stale. Traditions that no longer added to your life other than holding you back.
You eventually hit a rhythm. You're in a groove. That's the basis of that old '60s word that some people cling to, others are trying to bring back, and I chuckle at.
Groovy.
Things are falling into place.
Then one Monday Morning, you get up late. You're out doing your normal schedule but you run into some people who you don't normally see. It's a time to get caught up with these friends. That is when the question hits.
"So, how was your weekend?"
I had a pat response. "Must have been a good one. The sink is full, the grill is in the yard, and the lawn's cut!".
"Oh...Kay then."
Yep, that's life in suburbia. It's easy to judge when it has been a good weekend. The 20s college buzz has turned into the settled "I've gotten my chores done and the food's been made.".
Sure, it's a grumble when you've forgotten to "tidy up" after visiting with the neighbors, or grilling just the perfect Jerked Chicken with Rice, but it's a good grumble because you chose it.
So lend a hand. If you're going to hover, you had better learn how to load a dishwasher. After all, it takes a full dishwasher to make for a good Suburban Weekend.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
God Decides it is Time For A Vacation - Humor
God decides it's time for a vacation...
...so he consults with a few of his angels to figure out where he should go for some much needed rest and relaxation.
The first angel to speak up says "Well, sir, I hear Mercury is nice this time of year. It's nice and warm, you could catch some rays and maybe get a nice tan."
"That could be nice," says God, "but I'm not really in the mood for such warm weather."
Another angel chimes in with a suggestion. "Well if not Mercury, how about Pluto?" (Yes, I realize it's no longer considered a planet, but it works for the joke so calm down). "You could go skiing, maybe hang out at the lodge and pick up a snow bunny."
"Oh I don't know," replies God. "That's maybe a bit too cold for my tastes and honestly I don't really enjoy skiing all that much."
A third angel says, "You know, sir, there's always Earth. The climate is nice and temperate plus the people love you down there."
"That is true," says God, "but I really don't think I should. The last time I went there I hooked up with that Mary chick and they still won't stop talking about it."
...so he consults with a few of his angels to figure out where he should go for some much needed rest and relaxation.
The first angel to speak up says "Well, sir, I hear Mercury is nice this time of year. It's nice and warm, you could catch some rays and maybe get a nice tan."
"That could be nice," says God, "but I'm not really in the mood for such warm weather."
Another angel chimes in with a suggestion. "Well if not Mercury, how about Pluto?" (Yes, I realize it's no longer considered a planet, but it works for the joke so calm down). "You could go skiing, maybe hang out at the lodge and pick up a snow bunny."
"Oh I don't know," replies God. "That's maybe a bit too cold for my tastes and honestly I don't really enjoy skiing all that much."
A third angel says, "You know, sir, there's always Earth. The climate is nice and temperate plus the people love you down there."
"That is true," says God, "but I really don't think I should. The last time I went there I hooked up with that Mary chick and they still won't stop talking about it."
Saturday, October 5, 2013
The Hot Air Balloon Joke
Two versions of the same joke. Ok, so it isn't a Two-Fer strictly speaking. Basically every joke is something told before - it all goes back to the first time that Ugg the Neanderthal looked at his friend and spoke of the Chief. I guess he had to pay them a goat or some such nonsense.
Never mind all that, for your reading pleasure, I present the Hot Air Balloon Joke.
One other thing, that location they're talking about is in the Atlantic Ocean. I Know because 40 Degrees North Latitude and 75 West Latitude is on the Fourth Green in a Golf Course in Cinnaminson NJ, in suburban Philadelphia.
Yes, I am in fact, a know it all. Thank you for asking.
A man in a hot air balloon realized he was lost.
He reduced altitude and spotted a woman below. He descended a bit more and shouted, “Excuse me, can you help? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don’t know where I am.”
The woman below replied, “You are in a hot air balloon hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground. You are between 40 and 41 degrees north latitude and between 59 and 60 degrees west longitude.”
You must be an engineer,” said the balloonist.
“I am,” replied the woman, “How did you know?”
“Well,” answered the balloonist, “everything you told me is, technically correct, but I have no idea what to make of your information, and the fact is I am still lost. Frankly, you’ve not been much help so far.”
The woman below responded, “You must be in Management.”
“I am,” replied the balloonist, “but how did you know?”
“Well,” said the woman, “you don’t know where you are or where you are going. You have risen to where you are, due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise which you have no idea how to keep, and you expect people beneath you to solve your problems. The fact is you are in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but now, somehow, it’s my fault.”
Ok, here's version two!
Variation of the hot air balloon joke
A helicopter was flying around above Seattle when an electrical malfunction disabled all of the aircraft's electronic navigation and communications equipment.
Due to the clouds and haze, the pilot could not determine the helicopter's position and course to fly to the airport. The pilot saw a tall building, flew toward it, circled, drew a handwritten sign, and held it in the helicopter's window. The pilot's sign said "WHERE AM I?" in large letters.
People in the tall building quickly responded to the aircraft, drew a large sign and held it in a building window. Their sign read: "IN A HELICOPTER."
The pilot smiled, waved, looked at her map, determined the course to steer to SEATAC airport, and landed safely. After they were on the ground, the co-pilot asked the pilot how did the sign help determine their position. The pilot responded "Well the response they gave me was technically correct, but completely useless, so I knew that had to be the Microsoft building."
Never mind all that, for your reading pleasure, I present the Hot Air Balloon Joke.
One other thing, that location they're talking about is in the Atlantic Ocean. I Know because 40 Degrees North Latitude and 75 West Latitude is on the Fourth Green in a Golf Course in Cinnaminson NJ, in suburban Philadelphia.
Yes, I am in fact, a know it all. Thank you for asking.
A man in a hot air balloon realized he was lost.
He reduced altitude and spotted a woman below. He descended a bit more and shouted, “Excuse me, can you help? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don’t know where I am.”
The woman below replied, “You are in a hot air balloon hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground. You are between 40 and 41 degrees north latitude and between 59 and 60 degrees west longitude.”
You must be an engineer,” said the balloonist.
“I am,” replied the woman, “How did you know?”
“Well,” answered the balloonist, “everything you told me is, technically correct, but I have no idea what to make of your information, and the fact is I am still lost. Frankly, you’ve not been much help so far.”
The woman below responded, “You must be in Management.”
“I am,” replied the balloonist, “but how did you know?”
“Well,” said the woman, “you don’t know where you are or where you are going. You have risen to where you are, due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise which you have no idea how to keep, and you expect people beneath you to solve your problems. The fact is you are in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but now, somehow, it’s my fault.”
Ok, here's version two!
Variation of the hot air balloon joke
A helicopter was flying around above Seattle when an electrical malfunction disabled all of the aircraft's electronic navigation and communications equipment.
Due to the clouds and haze, the pilot could not determine the helicopter's position and course to fly to the airport. The pilot saw a tall building, flew toward it, circled, drew a handwritten sign, and held it in the helicopter's window. The pilot's sign said "WHERE AM I?" in large letters.
People in the tall building quickly responded to the aircraft, drew a large sign and held it in a building window. Their sign read: "IN A HELICOPTER."
The pilot smiled, waved, looked at her map, determined the course to steer to SEATAC airport, and landed safely. After they were on the ground, the co-pilot asked the pilot how did the sign help determine their position. The pilot responded "Well the response they gave me was technically correct, but completely useless, so I knew that had to be the Microsoft building."
Friday, October 4, 2013
Breakfast with Bill, The Bird, and the Dog
Getting up an hour and a half before sunrise, you expect things to fall in to place.
Gently.
Somewhat.
And sometimes things actually work out that way.
After trading a mile and a half walk with Mr Dog who was alternately pulling me and my returning the favor, I still got home well before the sun was up.
There were a lot of things that were deferred to this morning that magically fell into place. Two "experiments" were in the oven. Both were loaves of bread, a very simple recipe, that I have been playing with.
If you ever wanted to play with your food as a child, learn how to bake bread as an adult. Simple and subtle changes like the addition of an extra tablespoon of water will change things from magical to mush.
Since I had the luxury of a little extra time, I decided to bake that bread early. I turned to the oven and set the temperature, then started the music up for the day. Singing to an old pop song from 1979, I turned to Mr Dog and asked "Do ya wanna play my Skyyzoo" as I walked him out to the front room.
Cookie Ball! Cookie Ball!
That ought to keep you busy for a few minutes.
Loading up another 60 web pages in the browser, I went back to the OCD of waiting for the water to boil and the oven to warm up at the same time.
I think Rack likes being sung to by some uncommon pop as the Skyyzoo was being played again in a remix. He hovered in the kitchen still.
Cookie Ball you silly mutt! Cookie Ball!
Some day you'll learn how to open that tennis ball still has a tablespoon of kibble in it.
With the bread in the oven, the kettle was making a noise on the stove wanting to be poured into the coffee grounds. The smell of the morning baking was intoxicating. Coffee to the South of me, Bread to the North, it was the makings of a great breakfast.
Taking the coffee to the front room, I kicked the cookie ball back and forth a while and settled in for a half hour of Bake Time.
Ahh Coffee. Ahh Cookie Ball?
Here, Boy, have some! (squeeze, rattle)
He gobbles that stuff up fast.
Shortly the timer sounds off. The first loaf was done. A beautiful, if slightly flat from overwatering, loaf of foccacia style bread. Sure, it's blond instead of golden brown but we were hungry.
Coffee still at hand, we made up sausages and eggs and served in some of the fresh bread that was toasted in butter while the sausages cooked.
Yes, Fried.
Fixing the egg and sausage sandwich up, I turned to the sink and looked out on my little window onto Lake Backyard. Out in the wall of tropical green, there was a spec of red. A Cardinal had just hopped out next to the pool as if to claim the space. He might have spotted me take my first bite of sandwich. Flying back into the cut leaf philodendron I warned him that this was his cousin from Maryland that I was eating.
Harass us and you'll be next my beautiful red friend!
Maybe not. He looked bony.
But everything else fell neatly into place. Good way to start a morning.
Gently.
Somewhat.
And sometimes things actually work out that way.
After trading a mile and a half walk with Mr Dog who was alternately pulling me and my returning the favor, I still got home well before the sun was up.
There were a lot of things that were deferred to this morning that magically fell into place. Two "experiments" were in the oven. Both were loaves of bread, a very simple recipe, that I have been playing with.
If you ever wanted to play with your food as a child, learn how to bake bread as an adult. Simple and subtle changes like the addition of an extra tablespoon of water will change things from magical to mush.
Since I had the luxury of a little extra time, I decided to bake that bread early. I turned to the oven and set the temperature, then started the music up for the day. Singing to an old pop song from 1979, I turned to Mr Dog and asked "Do ya wanna play my Skyyzoo" as I walked him out to the front room.
Cookie Ball! Cookie Ball!
That ought to keep you busy for a few minutes.
Loading up another 60 web pages in the browser, I went back to the OCD of waiting for the water to boil and the oven to warm up at the same time.
I think Rack likes being sung to by some uncommon pop as the Skyyzoo was being played again in a remix. He hovered in the kitchen still.
Cookie Ball you silly mutt! Cookie Ball!
Some day you'll learn how to open that tennis ball still has a tablespoon of kibble in it.
With the bread in the oven, the kettle was making a noise on the stove wanting to be poured into the coffee grounds. The smell of the morning baking was intoxicating. Coffee to the South of me, Bread to the North, it was the makings of a great breakfast.
Taking the coffee to the front room, I kicked the cookie ball back and forth a while and settled in for a half hour of Bake Time.
Ahh Coffee. Ahh Cookie Ball?
Here, Boy, have some! (squeeze, rattle)
He gobbles that stuff up fast.
Shortly the timer sounds off. The first loaf was done. A beautiful, if slightly flat from overwatering, loaf of foccacia style bread. Sure, it's blond instead of golden brown but we were hungry.
Coffee still at hand, we made up sausages and eggs and served in some of the fresh bread that was toasted in butter while the sausages cooked.
Yes, Fried.
Fixing the egg and sausage sandwich up, I turned to the sink and looked out on my little window onto Lake Backyard. Out in the wall of tropical green, there was a spec of red. A Cardinal had just hopped out next to the pool as if to claim the space. He might have spotted me take my first bite of sandwich. Flying back into the cut leaf philodendron I warned him that this was his cousin from Maryland that I was eating.
Harass us and you'll be next my beautiful red friend!
Maybe not. He looked bony.
But everything else fell neatly into place. Good way to start a morning.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Basically, Corporate Radio Stinks
When was the last time you turned on a radio and listened to a local station?
For me it was more than 3 months ago. Even then it wasn't strictly a "local" radio station. I was in the Jeep, playing with the car radio. I'm in the Miami-Fort Lauderdale market. I was listening to ZNS Bahamas out of Freeport.
After I got bored with that, I switched through a series of "HD" radio stations, all of which were better than FM quality sound, but all of which were "automated". Basically listening to someone else's iPod.
This morning, my own iPod needed a charge so I switched over to my phone, started an app that goes out and finds radio stations and internet-only broadcasters. I finally settled on a bitcaster that is internet only out of Germany that plays top 40 music in English.
Only. No Commercials.
It got me thinking how far things have changed.
In my father's day, there was AM. There weren't too many choices, they all had static, and way back in his day, there were actual programs. This was before TV, so there were dramas, comedies, and special interest programs run.
TV changed all that, and it became music. News on the hour and the half, sports when "there was a game on". Offerings got more diverse. By the time I got interested in radio, I started with Dad's Radio, a Blaupunkt Shortwave/AM/FM/Longwave that still works. Glass tubes that glowed warmly and delivered a surprisingly mellow sound.
We had Rock, Dance, RnB, and more. But still we had diversity in programming because the markets were managed. No one company was permitted to own too many radio stations in any given area.
That all changed in the late 90s and by the 2000s, Radio (with a capital R) pretty much was dead or dying.
Sure, people still listened to it, but the MP3 players and iPods came on the scene. You could program your own music if you had a mind to it. It would take a bit of effort, but you could do it. I skated 21,000 miles listening to cobbled together podcasts legally downloaded from the internet.
I still had Dad's Radio, but by then the BBC World Service that I grew up with had pulled the plug on its services in North America and for the most part and the only things I found were some stations that I didn't have too much interest in. Once BBC was gone, Radio Nederlands was hard to find and that left me with CBC. It was too easy to find other outlets for news and general interest programming.
Luckily it was easy to keep loading up the iPod and surf stations online at home or work. I was listening to a station in Miami when I lived in Philadelphia, and if that lost my interest there was BBC Radio 4 or an excellent dance station in Belo Horizonte, Brazil.
The world opened up and local radio died to me.
I would only listen to NPR on the way home if I was following the news, otherwise back to the iPod because, again, Corporate radio stinks.
I guess the next step is what we do in the car. Here we are in a major media market in the US and we can't find anything to listen to that isn't 22 minutes of commercials plus probably as much "DJ Patter". So fire up the phone, plug it into the car audio input, and play some bitcaster on Kevin's unlimited data account.
Commercials make me twitchy, and always have. I'm the fastest remote clicker in the East.
Why bother listening to something local in the car when you can have something that you enjoy? Forget Sirius Satellite Radio, they're just as bad with all that blathering from abysmal DJs like that horrendous Tim Bauman.
I wish I never got Sirius XM. It's better than Corporate Radio but it's like saying I'm happy the cold I have is not the Flu.
Some of the lesser popular or "fringe" music formats are simply not available in Corporate Radio because they don't have the right demographics. Smooth Jazz, which got very big for a couple years, drew an older audience primarily. It's rare that you'd find a teenager who was really into listening to a smooth jazz audience. On the other hand, it was played pretty much everywhere - dentist and doctors offices, elevators and the like. It had a place. Small shops would love to have it on because it would be much less jarring than a Top 40 station in the background.
But they left South Florida, at least for a while. They may be back, I haven't checked. My godmother, Kathie, is a huge Smooth Jazz fan, and she simply left the radio off for most of the time. 10th largest market in the US and she simply ignored the radio. Eventually she got a smartphone and a data account and happily can listen to her Smooth Jazz wherever she likes.
Really, there has to be a better way to do it, but I suspect that the Genie is out of the Bottle. The Radio in the car dash of the future will have a port to plug into the phone, and a volume control. FM? Who needs it, we've moved on. AM? Wall to wall static from distant cities and right-wing and religious shouters. Again, we've moved on.
At least I have, and so has my godmother... and so has .... well you get the picture.
Now, I think I'll change the channel. Time for some Goa or some Trance. Maybe some Hawaiian or Bhangra. I've got a world of choice and commercial Corporate radio is none of it.
For me it was more than 3 months ago. Even then it wasn't strictly a "local" radio station. I was in the Jeep, playing with the car radio. I'm in the Miami-Fort Lauderdale market. I was listening to ZNS Bahamas out of Freeport.
After I got bored with that, I switched through a series of "HD" radio stations, all of which were better than FM quality sound, but all of which were "automated". Basically listening to someone else's iPod.
This morning, my own iPod needed a charge so I switched over to my phone, started an app that goes out and finds radio stations and internet-only broadcasters. I finally settled on a bitcaster that is internet only out of Germany that plays top 40 music in English.
Only. No Commercials.
It got me thinking how far things have changed.
In my father's day, there was AM. There weren't too many choices, they all had static, and way back in his day, there were actual programs. This was before TV, so there were dramas, comedies, and special interest programs run.
TV changed all that, and it became music. News on the hour and the half, sports when "there was a game on". Offerings got more diverse. By the time I got interested in radio, I started with Dad's Radio, a Blaupunkt Shortwave/AM/FM/Longwave that still works. Glass tubes that glowed warmly and delivered a surprisingly mellow sound.
We had Rock, Dance, RnB, and more. But still we had diversity in programming because the markets were managed. No one company was permitted to own too many radio stations in any given area.
That all changed in the late 90s and by the 2000s, Radio (with a capital R) pretty much was dead or dying.
Sure, people still listened to it, but the MP3 players and iPods came on the scene. You could program your own music if you had a mind to it. It would take a bit of effort, but you could do it. I skated 21,000 miles listening to cobbled together podcasts legally downloaded from the internet.
I still had Dad's Radio, but by then the BBC World Service that I grew up with had pulled the plug on its services in North America and for the most part and the only things I found were some stations that I didn't have too much interest in. Once BBC was gone, Radio Nederlands was hard to find and that left me with CBC. It was too easy to find other outlets for news and general interest programming.
Luckily it was easy to keep loading up the iPod and surf stations online at home or work. I was listening to a station in Miami when I lived in Philadelphia, and if that lost my interest there was BBC Radio 4 or an excellent dance station in Belo Horizonte, Brazil.
The world opened up and local radio died to me.
I would only listen to NPR on the way home if I was following the news, otherwise back to the iPod because, again, Corporate radio stinks.
I guess the next step is what we do in the car. Here we are in a major media market in the US and we can't find anything to listen to that isn't 22 minutes of commercials plus probably as much "DJ Patter". So fire up the phone, plug it into the car audio input, and play some bitcaster on Kevin's unlimited data account.
Commercials make me twitchy, and always have. I'm the fastest remote clicker in the East.
Why bother listening to something local in the car when you can have something that you enjoy? Forget Sirius Satellite Radio, they're just as bad with all that blathering from abysmal DJs like that horrendous Tim Bauman.
I wish I never got Sirius XM. It's better than Corporate Radio but it's like saying I'm happy the cold I have is not the Flu.
Some of the lesser popular or "fringe" music formats are simply not available in Corporate Radio because they don't have the right demographics. Smooth Jazz, which got very big for a couple years, drew an older audience primarily. It's rare that you'd find a teenager who was really into listening to a smooth jazz audience. On the other hand, it was played pretty much everywhere - dentist and doctors offices, elevators and the like. It had a place. Small shops would love to have it on because it would be much less jarring than a Top 40 station in the background.
But they left South Florida, at least for a while. They may be back, I haven't checked. My godmother, Kathie, is a huge Smooth Jazz fan, and she simply left the radio off for most of the time. 10th largest market in the US and she simply ignored the radio. Eventually she got a smartphone and a data account and happily can listen to her Smooth Jazz wherever she likes.
Really, there has to be a better way to do it, but I suspect that the Genie is out of the Bottle. The Radio in the car dash of the future will have a port to plug into the phone, and a volume control. FM? Who needs it, we've moved on. AM? Wall to wall static from distant cities and right-wing and religious shouters. Again, we've moved on.
At least I have, and so has my godmother... and so has .... well you get the picture.
Now, I think I'll change the channel. Time for some Goa or some Trance. Maybe some Hawaiian or Bhangra. I've got a world of choice and commercial Corporate radio is none of it.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Prairie Dogs in my Living Room
Picture this:
Wilton Manors, after 7pm.
TV is on to some mindless comedy, time shifted away from that commercial nonsense. I mean, really, who watches commercials on TV?
Windows closed, but all is dark.
All of the sudden, Rack perks.
Ears pop up, and I hear a high pitched whine. He's saying "I'm excited". That seems to be the way of life here, an excited McNab Puppy is an on'/off thing. Either curled up in a dogball, sniffing quietly under the parrot cage looking for dropped food, or running around the house burning off energy.
Who knew there was so much energy stored up in a cup of dog food, twice daily, plus two tablespoons stuffed neatly in a tennis ball or Kong?
Sitting bolt upright in a shot, the high pitched and reedy whine continues.
What's up boy?
He's parked next to my couch, near my feet. This was the first spot he relaxed enough outside of the crate when we first got him, so he's claimed it as his own. Instead of sitting on the mat that we lay out as His Spot, he chooses to lay down on the tiles. It must be to warm the floor up, or cool himself down, because that spot isn't as comfortable as being on a plush mat.
But that's the nature of things with a dog. We call it "Dog Logic" and smile as we shake our heads in confusion.
It's amped up another notch. He's standing and whining now.
At this point we're both looking at him and outside to see what is going on.
Nothing is readily apparent until...
He stands up, feet on the couch. Now he's able to look out across the hedge into the early evening gloom. Outside by the large fountain that our neighbor has in the yard that we call the Dog Bowl, I spot the reason. 140 pounds of Rottweiler, painted golden brown in the yellow glow of the streetlights is mooning us. He's drinking in the catch basin of the fountain, and basically romping in the yard.
Rack, it's just Dee Oh Gee, calm down!
Yes, it's a 140 pound Rottie that's named D.O.G. What else would you name a 140 slab of canine that wriggles its non-tail every time it sees you and says hello by sidling up to your knees and standing there demanding to be petted?
Rack's tail is dusting my coffee table. He keeps that table cleaner than I am, since I'm a shoddy housekeeper.
That reminds me the Kitchen's due for another mopping...
Rack is happy, he sees his friend, and knows that all is well.
If you ever doubt that dogs sometimes have friends, rather than an official "pack", you are probably not watching closely. My own Rack will go through stages. First an ear perks, then two. Then the tail starts wagging. That's about when my own mind thinks "I wonder if he's going to..."
And Rack begins to leap.
He'll do this when he sees certain dogs. He's now getting much more selective about who he leaps about, although almost every dog will get at least to the one or two wag stage.
But D.O.G. is on the happy dopey leapy list with Rack. In fact, so is his owner, Kirby. If he sees Kirby, he's been known to do the jump in the air act. Dog owners, or even D.O.G. owners, will get the "free pass" and be friends, non-dog owners may get the cold shoulder. It is a leftover from his experience in the shelters.
Last time he saw Kirby, a biker type who has a motorcycle that I really do want to borrow for a ride down to the Keys, he jumped. Jumping in the air wasn't enough. D.O.G. parked himself in front of Kirby and ended up being stood on by 43 pounds of happy McNab Dog.
Yes, Rack climbed on top of a Rottweiler in order to greet my neighbor.
Luckily nobody seemed to mind.
Other than me that is. That leaping can be a bit much at times, and we're getting a reputation. People and big dogs generally don't like to be climbed on, and he's still wary enough of strangers than to try that act in public often.
After all, how many times do you have a spare 140 pound Rottweiler around who is willing to be a foot stool for an over-exuberant McNab?
Wilton Manors, after 7pm.
TV is on to some mindless comedy, time shifted away from that commercial nonsense. I mean, really, who watches commercials on TV?
Windows closed, but all is dark.
All of the sudden, Rack perks.
Ears pop up, and I hear a high pitched whine. He's saying "I'm excited". That seems to be the way of life here, an excited McNab Puppy is an on'/off thing. Either curled up in a dogball, sniffing quietly under the parrot cage looking for dropped food, or running around the house burning off energy.
Who knew there was so much energy stored up in a cup of dog food, twice daily, plus two tablespoons stuffed neatly in a tennis ball or Kong?
Sitting bolt upright in a shot, the high pitched and reedy whine continues.
What's up boy?
He's parked next to my couch, near my feet. This was the first spot he relaxed enough outside of the crate when we first got him, so he's claimed it as his own. Instead of sitting on the mat that we lay out as His Spot, he chooses to lay down on the tiles. It must be to warm the floor up, or cool himself down, because that spot isn't as comfortable as being on a plush mat.
But that's the nature of things with a dog. We call it "Dog Logic" and smile as we shake our heads in confusion.
It's amped up another notch. He's standing and whining now.
At this point we're both looking at him and outside to see what is going on.
Nothing is readily apparent until...
He stands up, feet on the couch. Now he's able to look out across the hedge into the early evening gloom. Outside by the large fountain that our neighbor has in the yard that we call the Dog Bowl, I spot the reason. 140 pounds of Rottweiler, painted golden brown in the yellow glow of the streetlights is mooning us. He's drinking in the catch basin of the fountain, and basically romping in the yard.Rack, it's just Dee Oh Gee, calm down!
Yes, it's a 140 pound Rottie that's named D.O.G. What else would you name a 140 slab of canine that wriggles its non-tail every time it sees you and says hello by sidling up to your knees and standing there demanding to be petted?
Rack's tail is dusting my coffee table. He keeps that table cleaner than I am, since I'm a shoddy housekeeper.
That reminds me the Kitchen's due for another mopping...
If you ever doubt that dogs sometimes have friends, rather than an official "pack", you are probably not watching closely. My own Rack will go through stages. First an ear perks, then two. Then the tail starts wagging. That's about when my own mind thinks "I wonder if he's going to..."
And Rack begins to leap.
He'll do this when he sees certain dogs. He's now getting much more selective about who he leaps about, although almost every dog will get at least to the one or two wag stage.
But D.O.G. is on the happy dopey leapy list with Rack. In fact, so is his owner, Kirby. If he sees Kirby, he's been known to do the jump in the air act. Dog owners, or even D.O.G. owners, will get the "free pass" and be friends, non-dog owners may get the cold shoulder. It is a leftover from his experience in the shelters.
Last time he saw Kirby, a biker type who has a motorcycle that I really do want to borrow for a ride down to the Keys, he jumped. Jumping in the air wasn't enough. D.O.G. parked himself in front of Kirby and ended up being stood on by 43 pounds of happy McNab Dog.
Yes, Rack climbed on top of a Rottweiler in order to greet my neighbor.
Luckily nobody seemed to mind.
Other than me that is. That leaping can be a bit much at times, and we're getting a reputation. People and big dogs generally don't like to be climbed on, and he's still wary enough of strangers than to try that act in public often.
After all, how many times do you have a spare 140 pound Rottweiler around who is willing to be a foot stool for an over-exuberant McNab?
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