Kwazimoto and the demon

Kwazimoto quietly watched the human who looked more like he belonged on the piers of Booty Bay than wandering around the lava pools of the Burning Steppes.

"Franklin the Friendly, huh?" said Kwazimoto to himself. "If you're so friendly, why do you smell like a demon?"

A few days earlier Kwazi had carefully approached Franklin and engaged him in conversation.

"Lava?" said Franklin. "Pay no mind to all of that, friend. Look around you. Take in the joys that nature has to offer."

"Er...ok," Kwazi replied, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Franklin looked down at Kwazi, smiling affably, but every one of Kwazi’s Hunter instincts was screaming at him that this was not someone to trifle with. Rex, Kwazi's Tiger companion from Durotar's Echo Isles, had begun growling at Franklin as soon as they'd approached. Kwazi had placed his arm over the Tiger's neck but that had only lowered the volume of the big cat's growl, not stopped it completely. In fact Rex didn't stop growling until long after they'd left Franklin, still smiling and looking after them as he stood among the lava pools...and Wyrmkin...and other beasties, which all gave him a wide, respectable berth, as if they too knew that Franklin was more than just a mere man.

Kwazimoto had returned to Lakeshire, got Rex settled in with Penny at the Inn and then had Verner Osgood check over his armor and equipment.

"Everything is in excellent shape, Kwazi," Verner had said to the Dwarf when he'd picked up his armor. "Why, you could probably take on a demon single-handed with nary a scratch to show for it!"

Verner had been chuckling at his own joke until Kwazi growled, "Good, because I'm about to do just that."

Only then had Verner looked around and noticed that Rex, who had a habit of not being there unless you really looked for him, really wasn't there.

"You're heading north?" he'd asked Kwazi, already knowing the answer. "You're after Klinfran?" Kwazi just nodded as he buckled on his mithril vest. Very serious now, Verner sought to reassure his old friend, "your armor really is in great condition, you know. And the action on your rifle is working as smooth as silk. Your gear will not let you down."

"Aye, Kwazi replied, "and that's how it should be. This is a test of my abilities, not my gear." And being a dwarf of little words he'd said nothing more as he mounted up and rode away than "Be seein' ya."

Leaving his Ram at Morgan's Vigil Kwazi had trekked across the Burning Steppes to Blackrock Mountain, and there, just south of the imposing monolith, he again found "Franklin the Friendly", wandering among the lava pools, Wyrmkin and giant spiders.

Kwazi watched and waited and when "Franklin" was more on his own and the nearby beasties were not so close he began his approach. Kwazi prided himself on his stalking skills, and he was positive he'd dislodged not even the smallest pebble, yet Franklin still turned to face him as if he'd known the Hunter was there all along. Despite the heat from the surrounding lava pools, under Franklin's gaze Kwazi's blood ran cold and he knew his instincts had not let him down.

"Greetings, friend. Lovely weather we're having," said Franklin.

"Can it, demon! I know who you are!" growled Kwazi, then he quickly backed away as Franklin's face darkened then began to change, along with the rest of his body.

With a roar that echoed off the surrounding mountains Klinfran the Crazed tore away his human disguise, revealing his demonic self to the Dwarf that had so brashly challenged him, who promptly shot him in the face. The demon was stunned for several seconds and this gave Kwazimoto all the time he needed, to turn and run.

And the words of Kwazi's mentor came back to him in a rush, far faster than he could have recalled them while sitting down over a pint.

"The Hunter does not use strength of arm to win the battle, he uses his mind.
The Hunter picks the site of battle, and if he cannot, he picks the time.
The Hunter who makes his opponent fight the Hunter's fight will always win, regardless of strength of arm.
The Hunter uses his speed and agility to wear down a stronger, more heavily armored foe.
Just as there is no dishonor for the Rogue to attack from behind, with devastating blows that stun and immobilize his opponent, so too there is no dishonor for the Hunter to attack from a distance and never give his opponent the chance to strike back."

Kwazimoto knew of Klinfran's reputation and his extreme hatred for Hunters, especially those seeking to test themselves against him. "But do we seek to battle Klinfran because he hates Hunters?" Kwazi thought to himself. "Or does he hate Hunters because we repeatedly banish him to his home plane?"

But those questions were irrelevant at this point in time and best pondered, like his mentor's teachings, over a pint of Thunder Ale at the Kharanos Inn with his good friend Jarven.

Knowing he'd gained some ground on the demon, but also fully aware of its unnatural speed and strength, Kwazi stopped for a second. Spinning around he shouldered his rifle and took aim. For anyone else such a shot would be impossible. Kwazi had just run fifty yards in less than five seconds, and now he was attempting to accurately shoot his rifle at a fast approaching target. Admittedly it was a huge target, standing well over ten feet tall, but the size of this target worked against the ordinary shooter because this was no ordinary target but a very large and angry demon. But Kwazimoto was also not an ordinary shooter; he was a Hunter, and he'd been training his entire life for this very moment.

Even at the pace he'd run it fifty yards was nothing to a Dwarf who could run all day on a hunk of Dwarven Mild sandwiched between two slices of Myra Tyrngaarde's legendary Cornbread. In just a couple of seconds, despite the demon looming ever larger in his sights, Kwazimoto's breathing and heart rate slowed. His rifle stopped bouncing around and the bead on the front of the barrel settled down into the notched blade at the rear, and both sights were aligned perfectly with the demon's massive chest. If the sights did bob slightly with his heartbeat they were in synch with the bouncing stride of the fast approaching demon, and the front bead remained centered on Klinfran's torso.

Kwazimoto never consciously squeezed the trigger, the Hunter never does; his body just knows when the time is right and it takes the shot itself. The rifle kicked in his arms and Kwazi knew his shot had been true; he didn't need Klinfran's angry roar to confirm that.

Once more Kwazi turned and ran with the demon hot on his heels and he quickly settled into a rhythm. He didn't count the steps; like his body knowing when to shoot, his Hunter instincts just told him the time was right, and time after time he stopped, turned, and paused for a second. Then the rifle barked and Klinfran roared and Kwazi turned and continued running.

The demon chased the Dwarf all the way across the Burning Steppes and Kwazi was shocked when he recognized the path leading up to Morgan's Vigil. They'd run so far and he'd shot the demon so many times and still it kept coming, but the Hunter never gives up. To give up is to die (or at least fake it convincingly).

Kwazi stopped, turned, aimed and fired and Klinfran roared, but Kwazi stood his ground, reloading and firing again. Klinfran charged in as Kwazi reloaded a third time but still he didn't turn and run. At literally point blank range Kwazi fired a round directly into Klinfran's face and the demon stopped in its tracks, stunned.

For several seconds Klinfran wandered aimlessly in much the same manner as its human counterpart had earlier wandered around the lava pools, and Kwazi took this opportunity to dodge around the demon and start running back towards Blackrock Mountain. But as he ducked under its arms Kwazi took note of the black blood that covered the demon's chest, and he knew Klinfran couldn't have much left in him.

An angry roar told Kwazi that Klinfran had regained his senses but the Hunter had likewise regained his lead and the demon could do nothing but continue the chase. Once more Kwazi settled into his rhythm; run, stop, turn and shoot, turn and run again. But each time he took aim he could tell the demon was slowing down, and then the little voice inside him spoke up, and he stopped and turned and took aim.

The rifle barked but Kwazi stood his ground, reloading and taking aim once again. As Klinfran staggered towards him Kwazi settled his rifle's sights on the demon’s chest, his rifle barked, and time seemed to stand still.

So keyed up, so full of adrenaline was he, that Kwazi could almost see the thorium round as it left his rifle and flew towards Klinfran. In that split second Kwazi wondered if the demon with its supernatural senses could see it, or if it just knew its doom was once more at hand.

Kwazi had defeated many foes before facing down Klinfran, in fact three other mighty demons had already fallen before him, but Kwazi would remember this moment for the rest of his life.

At every retelling of this tale Kwazi would recall that as that final round streaked home, that Klinfran the Crazed, the mighty demon, had looked afraid. He always wondered if he'd imagined it but he couldn't shake the feeling that as he'd fired that final round Klinfran had started to turn, as if to run from the Hunter.

The old saying was very true, Kwazi thought to himself. Don't run from a Hunter, you'll only die tired.

* * *

If you enjoyed this story I've also written a 4-part series based on Kwazimoto's early years: Click here for part I of Becoming the Hunter.

Dawn of War

If only this were a movie.

Ok, so it is a movie, but it's only the intro movie to the Warhammer 40K:Dawn of War PC game; it's not a real movie :(

On the plus side, it's the rare hi-rez version of the intro movie, so once it starts playing in Windows Media Player hit Alt & Enter to go Full Screen, turn the sound up on your speakers, and enjoy two (very violent & bloody) minutes of Space Marines fighting Orks. Please note the file is 23Mb in size, and might take a while to download on a Dial-Up connection.

The weekend so far

Friday was my day off, which usually means I do stuff for Liz. Still not sure how that works. I put in my 80 hours (every two weeks) at work, eight 9-hour days and one 8-hour day so I get every other Friday off...but somehow that day off is not mine to spend as I wish. Aah, well. We did a bit of shopping, found a couple of the Flower Girls dresses for Mum's upcoming wedding, had dinner at what used to be our favorite Sushi restaurant but which has been usurped by another Sushi restaurant (I still like it though) then picked up the kids from Church.

Saturday JE had his T-Ball game where he was awarded the Game Ball (I have a sneaky suspicion every kid will have at least one Game Ball by the end of the season ;) then after dropping the kids back with the in-laws we met Xinh at a Japanese BBQ place in Pasadena. I wasn't impressed by the service, or the food. They brought out raw food and we had to cook it ourselves! Good Lord! I did a great job cooking so I gave myself a big tip ;)

Afterwards we did more Flower Girl dress shopping, and visited 3 more Burlington's, or was it 2 more? I lost count. But after driving around for hours we finally had three of the same dresses in the correct sizes.

I was glad to get back home.

This morning I got up early (for a Sunday) and met the gang at Angeles Range for some shooting. After firing a clip from my two coworkers' .40s, one a S&W and one a Glock, I much prefer my Beretta 96G. The Glock is very light so the heavy .40 tosses it around too much for my liking. The trigger pull of the S&W was too long, and it wasn't even shooting double-action; it was a looong trigger pull. I didn't like it. The heavier slide on my 96G tames the wild .40 better than the light Glock, and Beretta also gave the 96G a lighter trigger pull. It's not a hair trigger, but it's still a fairly short pull. It just reinforces what I've always believed; Beretta make bloody good firearms.

The chap next to me at the range had one of the biggest handguns manufactured (at the moment), the S&W 500. The clip below doesn't do this baby justice because there's too much background noise to really hear this hand cannon going off.



The following picture, blown up to full size, shows the S&W 500 a little more clearly.


After sending about 200 rounds downrange I packed up then stopped by the rifle benches where my buddy Felix had his arsenal set up, including both .50-caliber rifles that you've seen earlier (& can see again here). I said g'day but he had his hands full trying to extract a live .223 round from his Armalite that a buddy had managed to jam up into the receiver. They finally got it out after a struggle (using a screwdriver), then I saw someone else using a hammer to knock loose the bolt on a .50 and an unfired shell popped out, spraying gun powder everywhere but leaving the .50 round still lodged in the barrel of the rifle. They were not having a good morning so I took my leave and headed back to the safety of town and home.

I have tomorrow off in honor of Cesar Chavez Day (which is not until Saturday next weekend), but apparently Liz has activities planned for me. I hear Ikea is on the agenda. Hooray! Sarcasm? What sarcasm?

Cheers all,
Cap'n John.

One for the ladies

Now I know I said a good Blog isn't made by throwing Youtube videos up, so I'm not just doing that ;) Yes, it's a Youtube vid, but this post is not just the clip, so I'm not violating one of my tenets for a good Blog :P

The following video is a current favorite song of mine. It's Josh Turner's "Would you go with me", and I must say, Josh seems just a little too smug for someone singing a love song. But I think I know why. It's coz Josh has an amazing vocal range and can not only sing Tenor but, please excuse the blasphemy, God damn if he can't also go so low he could be a world champion limbo dancer. The man has a deep voice. And I mean DEEP. And he knows it. And that's why he's such a smug bastard. I still love the song though. Enjoy ;)



And here's Mika's "Grace Kelly" that Lyndon mentions in his comment. Bloody hell, but if Mika isn't deliberately trying to sound like Freddy Mercury it's one hell of a coincidence.

I love comics

The reason I probably like WoW so much is the escapism that comes from being immersed in the game's world. That doesn't mean I hate my life, it just means for a brief period of time I get to be "someone else", a Hero capable of great feats, which is a lot more exciting than being a cockroach.

I love comics for the same reason. For a few pages you can slip into the life of Superman, Batman, or one of my childhood favorites, Captain America. In 1990 "they" made a Captain America movie that is apparently marginally better than the Punisher movie. That's the 1989 Punisher movie with Dolph Lundgren, not Thomas Jane's Punisher, which rocked!

Given the recent popularity of comic movies I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner, but apparently a new Captain America movie is in the works. Blade was awesome and Spiderman was a resounding success, but the Famous Four wasn't that hot and I don't think Ghostrider did too well, either. I really hope they don't fuck up Captain America.

It's bad enough that Steve Rogers, the man behind the mask, was apparently recently shot and killed by a sniper. They couldn't let him hang up the shield (one last time) or go out fighting a la Superman vs Doomsday; The writers had to kill him off from a distance, which admittedly is how I'd prefer to fight Captain America because the man is...was a highly proficient martial artist.

I wonder how this decision will affect the movie. Long time Captain America fans may protest the death of their hero and let their bums do the walking by not seeing it. I was excited to see a remake was finally in the works, but most likely I'll put this one on the Netflix list and if I like it, I'll buy the DVD. Then again, JE will be 8-years old in 2009, so if he seems interested I might take him to see it.

Another "irrelevant unless you WoW" post

Wolfgangdoom (Shout Out!) posted a comment to my Ashamed of WoW entry where he mentioned something that got my creative juices flowing...that's not as dirty as it sounds :D

Wolfgang compared us gamers talking WoW at work to fellow coworkers talking about their sports team and dissecting their team's weekend performance as if they were the managers, when really they're nothing more than a fan who spent $60 on a jersey, with, as Wolf stated, "someone else's name on it."

In WoW (and most likely other MMORPGs) most players belong to a Guild, and most Guilds have a Tabard. The neat thing about WoW's Tabard is if you change Guilds and the new Guild has a Tabard, the Coat of Arms on your Tabard changes to match that of your new Guild. You don't need to buy a new Tabard, and you don't have to worry about looking out of place when your Guild goes on a run because you're automatically wearing the correct colors.

Most Tabards, WoW's Tabards in particular, are throwbacks to days gone by and so look like what you'd expect to see on Athos, Porthos, or Aramis. On a fanatasy hero that's completely acceptable garb, but perhaps a little less so in today's times. However, there's literally no reason why a Tabard could not be cut in a more modern, stylish fashion that wouldn't have people pointing and laughing, after all, a stylish Tabard with a coat of arms on the front could very well pass for a sports team's jersey. And that's what got me thinking, although this idea will go no further (for me, at least) than this Blog.

What if you could buy a modern, stylish looking Tabard with your Guild's Coat of Arms on front? And instead of someone else's name on the back (ok, it's sort of someone else's name), you'd have the name of your Main Character, along with the very distinguished (in WoW at least) #14. As I said, irrelevant to anyone who doesn't play WoW, and even if you do WoW you may not get the significance of #14 ;)

While the number of WoW subscribers is allegedly 8,000,000+ (@ $15/month that's $120,000,000 Blizzard earns every month, or $1.44 billion ((if you're an American)) in a year...from just one of the games in their stable) the market for Guild Tabards would be considerably less than that number, drastically less. I could see Tabards being bought by a group of close, RL friends, or perhaps by a Guild that has a BBQ/Get-together of some kind with members flying in from all over the country that want to be able to ID each other. But I really don't see a huge demand for them, so it's not something I'd pursue even if I had the necessary resources. Besides which, Blizzard already sell t-shirts, sweaters and jackets with the Alliance and Horde Coat of Arms on them, so most of the Tabard market is probably already tapped out.

But it's an interesting idea, if you WoW ;)

Fo' shizzle ma drizzle!

Big Shout Out to Mike250 for hooking me up with Gizoogle, which I promptly used on my last Blog entry. So without any further ado, here's how my Blog would have looked if it had been written by the one and only Snoop Dogg.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Can Blogg'n makes you a bitch writa�?

First of all you have ta want ta be a conscientious playa n not just throw drug deala a bizzay of words, pictures n Youtube clips n call it a bizzy n shit. Thizzay you have ta watch yo spell'n n use punctuation correctly. Finally, like a good essay, yo blizzog entry should have an introduction, a body, n a conclusion.

The title of yo bizzle entry could almost be considered an introduction, albeit an extremely brief one; Realistically though it's nuttin' more tizzle tha topic you're going ta discuss hittin that booty. Yo introduction will be in tha fizzirst paragraph, n if you want ta gizzy tha motherfucka attention n hold it you need a good introduction. Although even tha bizzle introduction in tha world won't hold tha attention of somebody who's not interested in read'n tha topic `bout which you've chosen ta blog . Hollaz to the East Side. Thiznat doesn't mizzle you should shape yo blog ta attract nigga frizzom all walks of life like old skool shit. If you're blogg'n `bout thermonizzles technology coz it's tha field in whizzich you wizzy n you find it fascinat'n, bizzy `bout it. You'll attract like-minded gangsta (and tha occasional anonymous poser who calls you all geeks) n you'll enjoy tha discussions tizzle evolve. Thiznat wizzy makes you want ta continue ridin' n tha more you write tha playa you will get.

Basically you should strive ta ensure T-H-to-tha-izzat you have some semblance of an introduction, even a brief one, which introduces yo topic or helps ta griznab tha reada attention. The body of yo blizzay can be as shizzort as jizzle one paragraph, or run on fo` several (or many) if tha topic of choice warrants a lengthy discussion so sit back relax new jacks get smacked. Finally yo conclusion wizzay summarize yo topic n let yo crazy ass nigga kizzy thizzay they've reached tha end of that particizzles post . Drop it like its hot. Follow'n these simple rules wizzay makes you a betta writa, biznoth as a wanna be gangsta n in real life fo my bling bling.

Can Blogging make you a better writer?

First of all you have to want to be a conscientious writer, and not just throw together a bunch of words, pictures and Youtube clips and call it a blog. Then you have to watch your spelling and use punctuation correctly. Finally, like a good essay, your blog entry should have an introduction, a body, and a conclusion.

The title of your blog entry could almost be considered an introduction, albeit an extremely brief one; Realistically though it's nothing more than the topic you're going to discuss. Your introduction will be in the first paragraph, and if you want to grab the reader's attention and hold it you need a good introduction. Although even the best introduction in the world won't hold the attention of somebody who's not interested in reading the topic about which you've chosen to blog. That doesn't mean you should shape your blog to attract readers from all walks of life. If you're blogging about thermonuclear technology because it's the field in which you work and you find it fascinating, blog about it. You'll attract like-minded readers (and the occasional anonymous poster who calls you all geeks) and you'll enjoy the discussions that evolve. That will make you want to continue writing, and the more you write the better you will get.

Basically you should strive to ensure that you have some semblance of an introduction, even a brief one, which introduces your topic or helps to grab the readers attention. The body of your blog can be as short as just one paragraph, or run on for several (or many) if the topic of choice warrants a lengthy discussion. Finally your conclusion will summarize your topic and let your readers know that they've reached the end of that particular post. Following these simple rules will make you a better writer, both as a blogger and in real life.

Shaving, and learning to live again

I prefer to shave with a blade, but during the week I can't shave in the morning unless I want to get to work late (getting up even earlier is not an option ;), so I either shave in the evening or I use my electric razor at work when I get in.

Now I don't care what Mr. Kiam promised you, no electric razor can shave as close as a blade, and I much prefer a blade shave to an electric razor shave. I'm thinking I should bring a blade to work though, because while I was halfway through my shave this morning I thought "What if the power in the building went out now?" And the answer is I'd be there with half my face still covered in stubble.

Way back in High School one of my classmates accepted a bet from a friend to not shave for a month, and by the end of that month he pretty much had a full beard. I've known a few people like that, who could shave in the morning and by the evening look like they hadn't shaved at all that day. One guy I worked with would occasionally shave off his very full mustache at the start of the week and by the end of the week would have a full mustache again. So my classmate didn't shave for a month, but when it came time to pay up his friend offered to double the bet if my classmate would shave off half his beard and leave it like that for a week. I think that might have been his cunning plan all along, but he needed my classmate to have a full beard to pull it off. I think the wager was $50, doubled to $100, which was a lot of money to a 16 year old in the mid '80s, so my classmate accepted and for the rest of the week he wore half a beard.

I'd rather not have half a beard at work, even for a day, so I think I'll bring a blade razor in to work, just in case. Maybe I'll shave with it, too, instead of the electric. Because I normally use a blade my face doesn't like the electric razor, so it feels all hot and itchy for a while, even after using an Aftershave Moisturizing Balm

"A balm? Quick, throw it in the trough!" Obscure Monty Python Reference :)

- - -

So I've been feeling rather melancholy as of late. That's usually what happens when my old life resurfaces and reminds me of what I left behind. When my Uncle said he'd told my Dad about JE (3 years ago when he last visited Australia), Dad had said it wasn't fair, meaning we were over here and he was there, and he rarely got to see me or my son (in fact only once in 2001). My Uncle agreed but reminded Dad of his own situation. My Uncle lives in Cleveland with his youngest of two daughters. His older daughter lives in Melbourne, Australia, and has five children. My Uncle has never seen three of his own grandchildren.

That's one of the things that tears me up over my Dad, how he never got to see my daughter. Sure he saw her pictures but he never got to see her or hold her. And it's not fair, but sometimes that's just the way life is. And this is something I really need to come to terms with, before I can get over my father's death. Nine years ago I made the choice to leave my old family behind, move 10,000 miles away, and start a new life with my wife and her family. I didn't have to make that choice, but in a way, I also feel like I had no choice; it was just something I had to do, because living the rest of my life without Liz was not an option. I also still need to come to terms with that as well. Yes, nine years later I still have not fully accepted that decision, but I'm here now, I'm here to stay, and that's not going to change, so I need to accept it.

It only occurred to me later that talking to my Uncle was like preaching to the choir. Everything I'm going through, he's already done. He also left his two teenage daughters behind and moved to another country to be with his new wife, although his younger daughter later followed him. I told my Uncle that Liz and I sometimes talked of retiring to Australia, but I really can't see that happening. How can you move to another country and leave your children and grandchildren behind? I said to my Uncle. Well, he never sees his grandchildren (his younger daughter doesn't have kids) because they live in another country. The only way we'll retire to Australia is when JE and Amber get older if they say they want to go live in Australia, and we'll follow them.

I'm writing this down here because while my Blog is accessible to the general public, I don't always write for you; I sometimes write for me. Putting my thoughts down in writing helps me get them straightened out. This is a decision making process I use, because with everything written down I can clearly see what my choices are and the benefits from each choice, and more often than not I'll know what I plan to do before I even finish writing.

In putting something down in writing it also helps me come to terms with the situation, because I'm forced to confront it. There's no ignoring it, no pretending the problem doesn't exist. It's here, it's real, and I must deal with it because it's not going away until I confront it.

The first time I wrote this I teared up writing about my father never getting the chance to hold my daughter. That still makes me sad, writing this now, but after rereading what I wrote I'm more at peace with it. I've begun to accept it. I miss my Dad, a lot. I will always miss him. I also still miss Jonno, my best friend who died over 15 years ago at the too young age of 19. But I long ago came to terms with Jonno's death, although visiting his grave would still bring me to tears. That's only human, to mourn the ones we love. And it's human to move through your grief, then beyond it, and accept the death of your loved ones and resume living your own life. It's not long ago that my father died, only two years ago in fact, almost to the day. It took me quite some time to get over Jonno's death, or rather, learn how to live my life without my best friend there by my side. While I've been living the last nine years of my life without any of my family here, they've always been no more than a phone call away. Everyone is still just a phone call away, except for my Dad. Had to pause there to regain my composure. I really shouldn't be writing this at work but I just feel I need to get it out now, right this minute. It's like I'm at a pivotal stage of my grief, and getting this down right now is going to help me tremendously.

I honestly don't think I'll ever "get over" my Dad's death, instead I'll learn how to live my life without him. This is like the decision I made (and didn't make) nine years ago. I will learn how to live my life without my father, because the alternative is not an option.

The weekend in review

Friday morning was Liz's first big day out, other than post-op check-ups. First we dropped JE at school then it was off to LAX to pick up my Uncle and his wife...I guess even though she's his second wife she's still my Aunty, she just doesn't like us calling her Aunty, so it's usually Uncle Peter and Pat.

Due to their flight leaving Tullamarine late we were actually pretty much right on time to pick them up, even though we were late getting there, too. As I swung around the corner passed Tom Bradley in the left lane, heading for the parking lot, Liz looked over at Terminal 4 and said "Isn't that them?"

One glance to my right was all I needed and I did a blockie around the parking structure, cut a couple of other cars off and was shortly pulling up in front of my father's youngest brother.

The 15-hour flight was taking its toll upon Uncle Peter and Pat, but they were determined to tough it out and get back on US schedule, so after lunch I suggested a game of cards. Cribbage was Uncle Peter's game of choice, so I hunted down our Cribbage board and a full deck of cards and we played the afternoon away. Pat, who'd been teasing Uncle Peter about him nodding off, decided to rest her eyes a bit on the sofa and she was soon snoring away and talking in her sleep. JE came down and wanted to play, so with the first game finished we dealt him in (it was a 3-player board) and with us helping him (and me not making 15 pts when I could have) JE won the very first game of Cribbage he's ever played. But the waterworks I was avoiding by letting JE win still appeared when he said he wanted to play something else, and Uncle Peter and I said we were going to play some more Cribbage. They shut off pretty quick though, and we shortly heard him pottering about upstairs with some game or another.

Saturday morning we were all up pretty early. JE and I took Uncle Peter and Pat back out to LAX then raced off to his first T-ball game. On the 105, close to the 605, the gas light came on, but I figured we had enough to get us to JE's school where I thought his first game was. Little did I know that the route I was taking to get us there took us within two blocks of the actual location of his game, and that we would have been on time if I'd double checked the location before leaving.

We arrived at the school, got JE's cleats on, raced down to the baseball field to find the Dodgers and the Red Socks warming up for their game...not the Blue Jays. Oh boy. Time to get gas and find out where we needed to be. So ignoring a popular Urban Legend, while pumping gas I was on my cell phone finding out where we needed to be and how to get there.

We arrived just in time for JE to take his turn at bat (I think we missed the 1st Innings) and the game was on. I also scored a Blue Jays cap of my own (courtesy of the league), and with my new cap and navy blue t-shirt I pretty much looked the part of an Assistant Coach. The game was a lot of fun, some of the kids showed a lot of promise, one of the Angels (opposing team) made a catch but promptly dropped it, and every kid got to bat once during each Innings and run round the bases, even if they got run out, or struck out. How does one get struck out in T-ball? Simple, really. Swing and hit the tee three times, or not hit the ball further than 25 feet, and you're Out. But with this being a Just For Fun League there were no Outs. Highlight of the game was definitely one of our boys hitting the ball over everyone's heads and into the outfield. Highlight of the game for the kids was getting a Snackbar ticket after the game, entitling everyone to some candy and a soda.

After dropping JE with the in-laws the rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful, and by Monday Liz was feeling good enough that 5am saw me getting up and getting ready to return to work.

T-Ball, week 2

Today was the first day of what is promising to be a very hectic weekend, if your weekend started on a Thursday, which mine doesn't, but sort of did, but let's skip the semantics coz it's not important.

This week has been 1/2 day week at JE's school, so he got off school today at 12:25pm. I picked him up, we grabbed some food at the local Chinese Food Court and headed home. At 3:30pm we tootled off to T-Ball practice and arrived right on time on account of someone choosing to have an accident 2 blocks from the field, which required the presence of a large Fire Truck with flashing lights, which meant the rush hour traffic felt compelled to slow right down and rubber-neck as they drove past.

We arrived at T-Ball practice in time to field some hits from Coach Jesse, then it was warm-up and stretch time, and I'm glad we did that, because then we split into two groups. One group hit the outfield and practiced catching, while Coach Jesse's group stayed in the diamond (along with yours truly) and practiced batting.

Now some of the kids were typical 6-year olders and I pretty much ran around between the pitcher's plate and home plate fielding little flubs of hits, but some of the other kids were batting machines. These kids had me running into the outfield as they belted balls all over the place. And it wasn't a fluke. For some of the kids a big hit was, but two or three of our kids can hit the ball, and I mean HIT it, consistently. One of the kids belted line drive after line drive and I barely had to move a step as he hit the ball straight to me time after time. Remember I said I was glad we warmed up earlier? I'm sitting here typing this and I feel like I'm 5 years younger, like when I still used to play football because my legs are SORE! I weighed myself after my shower and the scales tried to tell me I'm 191.8 lbs. I'm not sure whether or not to believe them because that's getting darn close to my High School weight again. But I'm glad I'm not still carrying around those extra 15 lbs I've somehow lost over the last few weeks or I'd probably be even more sore.

Practice ran for 1 1/2 hours (including a mini-game) so we raced home, stopping for food on the way, ate, changed, then headed back out to our Boy Scout meeting, dropping A. with the in-laws on the way. Around 8:30pm we were finally back home again but I still couldn't sit down and relax. After a shower I got JE into bed, read him a story, then had to change the sheets on his bed because my Uncle is staying with us tomorrow night before flying on to Cleveland so we're putting him in JE's bed (a Queen) while JE is sleeping in A.'s bed, A. is staying with the in-laws for the next 2 nights. Saturday morning I have to get up early to take my Uncle back to LAX then JE and I have to race back to Arcadia for our very first T-Ball game at 9am. After that I might be able to relax, maybe :P

For some reason I was thinking this evening about what my life would be like if I hadn't met Liz, and the chain of events would quite possibly have been something like this:

Lived with parents from '98 to '05 until Dad passed away. Continued to live with Mum keeping her company until '06 when she met her new man. Bought Mum's house off her in '07 when she remarried and moved out, then lived in the house I grew up in for the rest of my life, all alone, coz everyone left but me. Strangely, real life is almost exactly the opposite. Little sis and her husband currently live next door to Mum, or they will until Mum moves out later this year, when she remarries and moves in with her new husband. Older sis initially bought a house around the corner and later moved to Melbourne. Me, I met a girl and moved halfway around the world.

Life is strange, sometimes.

Ashamed of WoW?

For some reason I try not to Blog about what I do in WoW, maybe because I want this to be a Blog about me, and not a What I did in WoW Blog...but maybe it's also because I, like many others, am perhaps embarrassed to admit that I spend a lot of my leisure time pretending to be a Dwarven Hunter running around a virtual world accompanied by my pet Pig.



That's not to say everyone who plays WoW is also playing a Dwarven Hunter with a pet Pig, but there does appear to be quite a few people embarrassed to admit that they spend a lot of their leisure time playing a computer game.

WoW Insider wrote a very short article on this topic, and asked for readers' comments, and some of the comments were very interesting, very interesting indeed.

In my opinion the most thought provoking comment, if you follow the above link, was #9 by Mekias:

"The weirdest thing is that, at one point, I was obsessed with internet poker. I got less hassle from people about the poker than I do about WoW. In fact, most people wanted to know my strategies and tips on how to play poker.

How is it that a gambling addiction is somehow cool and playing an MMORPG is considered pathetic?"

Now I'm still not going to turn my Blog into a "What I did in WoW Blog" because that would be boring. "Today I killed 53 Kobolds and looted 10g and 3 stacks of Linen Cloth. One of the Kobolds had an Uber Hammer of Thumpiness which I later sold to a Paladin for 25g! After that I sat on the pier at Steamwheedle Port and fished for two hours, maxing out my Fishing Skill."

Yah, enthralling stuff, but that's pretty much what I do, in-game. I also chat with my Guildmates, either in-game or via my headset and a VOIP program, and sometimes I Raid a Dungeon (called an Instance by WoWers) with them.

If I were to turn this Blog into a What I did in WoW Blog, it would be much the same thing, day after day.

Now I also have a coworker who is hooked on one of his X-Box Live games. I'm not sure what one, but he apparently spends a lot of his leisure time playing that game, too. So sometimes we'll talk games because he knows I play WoW, a lot, and I know he plays his game, a lot. But strangely enough we both seem to get a little embarrassed if someone walks past and overhears us.

As Mekias said, why is it socially acceptable to have an online gambling addiction, but playing video games is not?

*Edit*
Here's a better picture of my pig, "Cyboarg".

Public Service Announcement

More directed to the guys than anyone else, coz almost all women are already aware of this, and it's probably not relevant to all guys, especially those living by themselves, but to those guys who may become a Mr. Mom, this one's for you.

You may already be aware that laundry consists of coloreds and whites, but there's actually one more category; pinks.

I spent most of this weekend doing laundry and I decided that just to play it safe, anything in a pink or purple shade was getting washed separately, that is, with the other pink or purple clothing. Now all the laundry is done, although that phrase is never accurate because there's always more laundry.

I'm getting the hang of getting the kids off to school in the morning, but my hat is still off to all of you mothers and Mr. Moms who do this all the time. In a week (or two) Liz will be up and about and able to resume doing this herself, and I'll go back to getting up 2 hours earlier and once again being responsible for getting only myself ready for work. I've had it slightly easier than most mothers and Mr. Moms in that I've been able to work from home, but I've also had it a little tougher in that I've also had to take care of Liz, and this is where I salute those people who dedicate their lives to taking care of other people; the Nurses and Professional Caregivers.

These past few weeks have been an eye opening experience and I simply cannot imagine making the decision to look after someone (who's not even a relative) every day of their life, and yet that's what Professional Caregivers do. In some cases they even move in with their charge so if their services are needed in the middle of the night, they're there. Every minute of their day is spent taking care of someone else, feeding them, washing them, doing their laundry, etc. I know there are a few bad apples in the bunch who take advantage of their charges, robbing them or weaseling their way into the Will, but most Professional Caregivers are Angels on Earth. I belong in the Customer Service field, it's what I love doing, but dedicated Professional Caregivers take Customer Service to a whole different level. They're not just at the PGA level of Customer Service, they are the Jack Nicklaus, Arnold Palmer and Tiger Woods of Customer Service. And I can't give any higher praise than that.

Sometimes it's scary...

how smart my wife is. I don't think I'm giving her too much credit, I think she really is this smart.

We signed our son up for T-Ball and today I took him to his first practice session. We got there a little early because we went straight there from school. Actually we went to the local second-hand book store first where I was unable to find Books 2 & 3 of the Icewind Dale Trilogy, but we did pick up a couple of books for JE. Then we went to T-Ball, but we were still early, like close to an hour early.

We threw the ball back & forth for a bit then JE needed to use the restroom, which was a good 1/4 mile away, on the other side of the tennis courts. We took the long way back past the big baseball diamond and discovered that while there were closer restrooms to our baseball diamond, those closer restrooms were sealed shut. Not just locked, but they had plywood nailed across the doorways.

We arrived back at the smaller baseball diamond with a few minutes to go to Practice Start Time and discovered the Coach had arrived, so JE put his glove back on and took the field. One by one the rest of the kids and parents arrived and finally we had a full T-Ball team. While the Assistant Coach kept the kids busy the Coach came and spoke to the parents about how T-Ball isn't just for the kids, but that if we all get involved it makes the season a lot more fun for everyone, kids and parents alike. So when the Coach resumed practice with the kids, several fathers, led by yours truly, took the field with him...and despite knowing very little about America's National Pastime I somehow became 1st base Coach, which means when the kids run from home plate to 1st base I'm there to shout encouragement to them, or make sure they run from 1st to 2nd base when it comes time to do just that.

Despite already being a Tiger Cub Scout leader, out of the last eight years of being in America this one hour of T-ball practice somehow made me feel more like I belonged than anything else. Not even playing Aussie Rules for the L.A. Crows gave me this feeling. While I did make a Very Good Friend playing Aussie Rules, playing the game here in the States seemed more like trying to regain something I left behind; Taking part in T-ball somehow just felt "right".

Maybe I'm giving my wife too much credit, but I doubt it. Somehow I think she signed JE up for T-ball knowing that it wasn't just going to be good for him, but good for me as well.

Good friends, and really good friends

A good friend will bail you out of jail the next morning.
A really good friend would have been sitting next to you saying, "That was freaking awesome!"

A good friend will help you move.
A really good friend will help you move a body.

Sometimes in our lives we get thrown curve balls, and it's times like those that we discover that some of our good friends are really good friends. Now I don't mean I just spent the weekend in jail, or was busy moving a body ;)

One summer, a long time ago, I discovered I had a really good friend, who chose to spend most of his summer break (away from work) with me.

A couple of years ago at one of the darkest times of my life I needed another really good friend.

And this weekend life threw us another curve ball and another really good friend was there for me and the wife when we really needed her.

Sometimes we ignore our friends, even our good friends, even our really good friends. What makes a really good friend though is that they will still always be there for you when you need them.

Dinner, and a show

I met Liz and the kids for dinner at Souplantation last night, and after we'd sat down at our table another young family sat down at the next table over. Their two kids were perhaps a year or so younger than ours, but they were also there with Nan and Pop. Dad set their littlest one up in a high chair and Pop took the seat next to her, and at one point I glanced over to see Pop give his baby granddaughter an affectionate pat.

This really got to me and I looked away but the damage was already done. In fact looking away made things worse because now I was looking at my own daughter whose Pop never got to see her or hold her before he died.

The tears welled up and I hung on to them as hard as I could but my son who was sitting next to me was quick to notice and he asked why I was crying. I told him I wasn't but he could see quite clearly that I was, or at least trying not to and failing miserably. He insisted that I was crying and when Liz told him to be quiet he got upset and turned away. So I grabbed him and pulled him close while he tried to pull away and I gave his hair a scruffing. When I stopped he asked me to do it again, so I did and it made us both feel better.

Then Liz asked me why I'd been crying and before I could attempt to explain the tears welled up again. "No, don't tell me now," she said.

Well dear, now you know why.

Now I remember

why I hate Norton and Symantec. On my old PC I'd been using a free version of AVG Antivirus, but my new PC came with a subscription to Norton Internet Security, so I've been using that instead and it's a real pain in the arse.

It has these Alerts that pop up to tell me "Hey, there's a problem. Do you want me to fix it?" So I click on Fix it.

A few second later an Alert pops up to tell me the problem is being fixed. I click on Close and the Alert disappears.

A few seconds later an Alert pops up to tell me the problem it told me about earlier is being fixed.

Ahh yeah, I know. I told you to fix it, and you've already alerted me that it's being fixed. Now, Close!

A few seconds later an Alert pops up. "Hey, you know that problem? We're fixing it."

Shut the fuck up!!! Just fix the damn problem and stop telling me you're fixing it!!!

A few seconds later an Alert pops up. "We fixed that problem we told you about."

Great. Now go away.

A few seconds later an Alert pops up. "Everything is working just fine now."

FUCK OFF!!!!!

I don't care that I have a free 1-year susbcription to Norton which is worth (if you can believe Symantec) about $60, or that AVG is now a pay-service, much like Norton, and costs about the same for a 1-year subscription. AVG was never this fucking annoying. I'm just about ready to uninstall Norton and forgo the 1-year subscription.

Why don't I close the program? Because if I do that, an Alert pops up telling me there's a problem that needs fixing. If I click Fix it, Norton starts everything back up again.

Now excuse me, but Norton is telling me I need to restart my PC or the world will be destroyed.

Another one of "those" Bus Drivers

I like to rant here because if I file an e-complaint with the MTA I don't get any response or feedback from them. It's like I wasted my time even filling out their e-form, and if I call I'll just be on hold for 20 minutes before hearing a message along the lines of "We're sorry, all operators are busy. Please call again later. Click." o_O seriously WTF?

This morning I got to the station a little later than usual, so the bus I caught was not being driven by a driver I know. As if it wasn't enough that I was already a few minutes late, then we have problems on the Freeway. An accident, whatever, I don't know. We sat there in traffic for a while, stop-go, stop-go, stop-go, you know the routine. I'm glad I had a good book with me. Then the other buses started passing us using the emergency lane. A fellow passenger called out "Follow those buses!" but out guy stayed in the express lane, stop-go, stop-go, stop-go. With the result that my 30 minute bus ride took over an hour this morning.

Finally we made it into downtown. At 11th St. a passenger got off and as soon as the bus pulled away from the curb I rang the bell for the next stop and stood up. I thought I heard the driver say "Next stop is Pico," which is after 12th St. So I walked to the front and told the driver I wanted 12th St., which is something I usually do anyway, even with my regular drivers.

Next stop is Pico, the driver repeated.

I told him the other bus drivers let me off there all the time.

He gestured at the construction that's going on, and which has been there for over 12 months now, as if that was the argument clincher. I said I usually get let off on the other side of the intersection, across from the construction.

Mr. Bus Driver, when almost every other driver I've ridden with has let me off at 12th St., construction or no construction, don't go thinking you're any different or that I'll back down. The only way I'm not getting off at 12th St. is if you refuse to stop there.

When it became obvious that he was going to stop at 12th I thanked him. I am not an inconsiderate rider. He's obviously an inconsiderate driver though. Next time it's Pico, he said, as he pulled up. I thanked him again and wished him a nice day as I left the bus. I may not be inconsiderate, but I can be condescending when I choose.

Then next time I'll get off at 11th, I said to myself as I walked away, especially if you're driving. It might be one block earlier than the stop I want, as opposed to one stop after my desired stop, but the difference is I'm getting off at the stop of my choice, not where you choose to let me off. I win. It's that simple.

In reality 12th St. is a scheduled stop, and a majority of the drivers will still stop there on the other side of the road, especially if you tell them in advance that you want the 12th St. stop. The only reason they won't stop at 12th St., especially after a rider asks them to stop there, is because they're a jerk. Unfortunately you meet jerks in all walks of life, whether you're walking or riding the bus.

Irrelevant, if you don't WoW

The male Dranei dance in WoW borrows heavily from Daler Mehndi & Co's "Tunak Tunak Tun" music video. Unless you WoW this post means nothing to you. If you do WoW and you've /danced on your male Dranei, watch the clip all the way through and you will recognize some of the moves, especially around the 1-minute mark of the clip.



And if you don't WoW, here's a Youtube of the male Dranei dance set to...why, goodness me, it's set to Daler Mehndi's Tunak Tunak Tun :D

My son...and my other son

Last night I took my son and his friend (as Tiger Cub Scouts) to a local Fire Station, where they saw lots of cool stuff, including a Thermal Imager which allows the Fire Fighters to find people inside smoke filled buildings. The Fire Fighters turned the TI on me and asked the two boys who they could see. JE's friend excitedly exclaimed, "my dad!"

This is actually not the first time he's referred to me as such, and given the situation he's living in it's not that surprising, either. JE's friend is Chinese. He lives with his mother and his older sister while his real father lives in China. This is not that uncommon for Chinese families to do. My wife used to work with another lady who lived here with her son while her husband lived and worked in China, and they'd see each other for a week or so every couple of months. JE's friend is also not the only one in their class in this situation. Now me, I can't imagine living away from my family and only seeing them for a week or two every couple of months, if that.

Being Chinese JE's friend's first language is, naturally enough, Chinese, which brings communication differences into the equation. I know that when translated literally some Chinese phrases can become quite humorous, although their intention can still be deciphered. I'm rather ticklish, and sometimes my wife likes to take advantage of that. She was tickling me at her parents' house one time (a particularly sensitive place to be tickled) when her mom asked if I was "scared of tickle". Which really does make sense but is still amusing to hear it said :)

The Chinese language also has different names for paternal and maternal grandparents. If you're the grandparents on the mother's side you'll always be called Abu and Goong-goong, although Liz's Dad actually gets Doong-doong because JE couldn't pronounce the initial G and the name just stuck. Even the FIL refers to himself as Doong-doong, which got him strange looks from the Chinese kids at JE's school because while Goong-goong is "Grandpa on mama's side", Doong-doong doesn't mean a thing.

The Chinese also have words/names for people not related to you, so rather than calling an elderly lady "Hey, you!" or "Old woman", you can actually call her something respectable. It's something akin to Grandmother although it's not the same name you'd use for either of your biological grandmothers. It still means Old Woman, it's just a polite way of saying it ;)

So, coming full circle, JE's friend saying I'm his Dad does not mean he thinks I'm his father (although he sees me more than he does his real father), but is nothing more than him translating a Chinese word for father-figure into its closest English expression. I'm sure it sounds strange to onlookers though, to see the distinctly Chinese boy calling this very white man "Dad". The first time it happened JE got a little upset that his friend appeared to be laying claim to me, but last night he either missed it or didn't care. I don't know what the three white Fire Fighters thought, especially as it had already been established that JE was my son.

My daughter is currently doing a very similar thing, not in calling us Mum and Dad, which we are, but in laying claim to us. When Liz's cousin & her family visited a few weeks ago their little boy (who is around our daughter's age) came up and gave me a hug. Our daughter saw this and ran up to me, screaming "Mine!" Funnily enough she doesn't just do this to strangers but does it to her own brother. If she's hugging or cuddling with us JE cannot come near, or she gets very possessive. Likewise if we're getting cuddles from JE, she will again do her "Mine!" routine. We explain that we're also JE's mummy and daddy, and she does use the Chinese word for "big brother" to describe JE (I'm not sure how to spell it, but it's pronounced by saying a hard G twice in quick succession) so she knows that JE is her big brother, but we're her mummy & daddy, and you better not forget it!

American Idol...NOT!!!

Liz watched the auditions for American Idol last night. In case you missed it, it wasn't just auditions, there were also interviews with the candidates prior to their audition. Man, I hope most of the interviews were rehearsed, or the candidates were actually paid actors or something, because most of them were terrible and had absolutely no business trying out for Idol.

I can carry a tune, and I have a good singing voice, but I would not try out for American Idol because I'm too old for starters, and I'm also not good looking enough. That doesn't mean an American Idol has to be young and gorgeous, but they at least have to be easy on the eyes. And let's face it, if you think of "American Idols" the names that probably come to mind are Justin, Britney, Christina, etc. The most popular main-stream artists of today are almost all good looking (to some degree). Unattractive people who cannot carry a tune and do not have good singing voices should not be trying out for American Idol.

One guy tried to sing Unchained Melody. I can't even sing Unchained Melody. You've got wicked high notes in there, but in his pre-audition interview this guy bragged about being able to hit the high notes that nobody else could. First of all he started off high, and the song only gets higher as it goes on, but this guy didn't get any higher he just got more painful to listen to.

Another guy was actually able to carry a tune and he hit almost all the right notes (I forget what song he sang), but he had a terrible voice. He was still easier to listen to than Mr. Unchained Melody because at least he could sing.

But don't these people have friends. Why didn't someone tell them "American Idol? Dude! Don't do it!"

Something else I hope was staged (edited in ipso facto) were the reactions of Simon, Paula and Randy during these awful auditions. Smirking, giggling, laughing. Very unprofessional. But then if the Simon just stopped the audition and said, "Thanks, but no thanks" that wouldn't make for good TV, would it. Far better is to show someone simply butchering a song then show the panel covering their mouths with their hands as they try not to crack up at how dreadful the person is.

I think I just empathize with the applicants too much, even as I suffer from their horrible singing. Nobody deserves to be made fun of...except for Mr. Unchained Melody, who not only seemed to think he had what it takes to be the next American Idol but was extremely arrogant about it. Dude, you can't sing. Next!

Mogs, this one's for you

Why does One plus One equal Two? The answer is not because it does, but because we're told it does.

One is merely the name we've assigned to a single unit, and two is the name we've given to a single unit and another single unit. It could have just as easily been the other way around, like so:
O is two
O O is one
O + O = O O
=> two + two = one

And it would be correct because that's the way it is. One and Two could have been assigned the other way around. One only means one because that's what we're told it means. I bet you had a hard time looking at and reading that example. I know I did, because it flies in the face of everything we believe to be true, but the only reason we believe it to be true is because we've been told, almost since birth, that it is true.

Centuries ago people believed the earth was flat. It was an indisputable fact. The earth is flat. Everyone believed it was so because everyone else said it was, so it must be true...and then it wasn't.

The sky is not blue. The sky is the color that we have been told since birth is blue. I'm guilty of this myself. My daughter holds up a blue spoon. If she says it's blue, I say yes, good job. If she says it's another color, I correct her, but all I'm doing is reinforcing what I was taught when I was younger, and what I now believe to be true.

What if apples were blue? I don't mean blue like the sky, I mean what if the name for the color of an apple was blue. And the name for the color of the sky was red. Not just when the sun is setting, but imagine looking at the sky and saying, the sky is such a beautiful shade of red today.

Somewhere along the way someone decided that the word to describe the color of an apple would be red, and the word to describe the color of the sky would be blue. That's not the names of the colors, those are just the names "someone" chose to give them and everyone else just followed along, like sheep, which are only white because that's the name we've assigned to that particular shade ;)

A problem? Moi?

Hee hee ;)

If you think I've got a problem that I felt compelled to install WoW on my son's PC (I didn't kick him off, he was at the grandparents' house all weekend) because my PC wouldn't work, then I wonder how you feel when I say it's currently 12:20am and I just got back from Gamestop where I picked up the WoW Expansion Pack. Yes, at midnight I joined approx. 30 other people at my local computer games store, in the freezing cold (and temperatures have indeed been below freezing here at night), just to get an expansion pack for my favorite game :D

And yes, I'm installing said expansion pack as I write this :D

Wow! (pun intended, read on ;)

For the second time in two days I find myself installing the World of Warcraft from scratch, including the downloading of several patches, some of which are close to 500Mb in size.

With the Burning Crusades expansion coming out tomorrow night (technically Tuesday morning at 1 minute past midnight ;) I was seriously attempting to upgrade my computer. At the very least I needed substantially more hard drive space as the 7Gig free on my 40Gig hard drive just wasn't going to cut it.

Remember a few months back when I tried to dual drive my system and it refused to boot back up for me until I'd left it alone to sulk? Well, neither I nor it learned our lessons. I decided to go the route of an external hard drive, like those cute little flash drives you can buy, but this external hard drive is a little bigger. About the size of two 1"-thick sandwiches laid side-by-side. But when I got the external hard drive home I discovered I'd bought a Firewire only version, and my PC does not have any Firewire sockets, so I ordered a PCI-Firewire card from Newegg.com which arrived Friday night.

Saturday morning I got up, cracked open my PC and installed the PCI-Firewire card, then booted back up. The lights came on, drives whirred, keyboard lights came on, but on my 19" LCD screen there was nothing. I turned it on and off and the LCD said "I got nothin'!" actually it said "No Signal" but that's essentially the same thing.

Several times I tried rebooting, both with and without the Firewire card, all to no avail. Then I decided to try my old ATI Radeon 9600XT video card, on the off chance it was my new NVidia 6200, and my system booted up. Of course it did so after I'd removed the Firewire card. So I powered down, reinstalled the Firewire card, booted back up and...nothing. What the F**K?!?! Seriously. What the F**K?!?!

I reinstalled my old video card, and still had nothing.

I pretty much spent all day (except for a few errands Liz and I ran) trying to get my computer working (again) with a larger hard drive, and now I not only didn't have a larger hard drive, I didn't even have a computer, period.

I finally gave up and played a bit of Super Mario on JE's DS and decided to unlock World 7 for him, which involved going into World 4, which is when I discovered he'd bypassed World 4 and gone straight from World 3 to 5, so I had to do several levels of World 4 and in fact ended up completing it, World 4, that is; I'm up to the final castle (I think) in World 8, but haven't been able to get passed Bowser to drop him into the fiery pits of hell and save Princess Peach (hey, Peachy-baby? Heard of women's lib? Heard of equal rights? Heard of empowerment? Do you like being a permanent victim? Geez, woman. How about next time Bowser (or Baby Bowser) comes to kidnap you, you punch him in the nose like we've seen you do in Super Smash Bros. Melee! Er...sorry, got carried away there).

Then I decided that seeing as my old ATI video card was working, and JE's PC had an AGP slot, I'd give JE a new video card, which I did, and his computer booted up just fine & dandy. (Why his, Lord? Why not mine?). Then I figured that seeing as his computer now had a turbo-charged video card in it, I might as well install World of Warcraft, which I did. Then I had to download the patches. Five of them, I think. Totalling close to 2Gig in size by the time they'd all downloaded, with installations taking 10 minutes (or longer) between each download. From the time I inserted the first disk to the time I was finally able to log into WoW and not need to download a new patch I think it was 3 hours, maybe even 4.

I was able to play WoW on JE's PC, but it was nothing like WoW on mine. I still ended up PvPing in the Battlegrounds and earned 2/3 of the Honor Marks I need for my Tiger Mount. I play a Dwarven Hunter in WoW but I love Tigers. Unfortunately it's the lanky, pansy Night Elves who get to ride Tigers; Dwarves have Battle Rams for their Racial Mount. I have a Battle Ram, and I like him, but anyone who knows me knows I love Tigers, so I simply must have a Tiger mount for my Dwarf as well. PvP was interesting, to say the least. While JE's PC will run WoW, it's not an optimal machine for such an activity. Several times I logged into the Warsong Gulch battleground, and before my own character had loaded and I could see what was going on, I was dead. Other times I'd get in just fine, and then I'd mooch around on the roof of the Alliance Base. I pretended I was on defense, and I sort of was, but I wasn't being very good at it. I still managed to take out a few of the Horde players, earning my Dwarf a few Honorable Kills (for shooting someone in the back from a ledge high up above them where they couldn't see me unless they were looking up there ;)

Liz laughed that I wasn't able to take an evening off from playing WoW, but of course she was there on her PC playing her Age of Empires III ;) To me WoW is not just a game; like most MMORPGs it's a social experience. I've made a lot of online friends playing WoW so often I log in not just to play the game, but to chat with people. One of my oldest friends in WoW got his account hacked several months ago and lost a lot of the items he'd acquired over the last year or so. He pretty much quit playing while Blizzard looked into replacing his items, but his case was not successful, and he's only logged in once or twice in the last 5 to 6 months. I was amazed at how much I missed him, especially when he logged in last week and I was able to chat briefly with him. He logged out shortly afterwards though. Having his items sold (stolen & the gold sent to the thieves account) but never restored has greatly reduced his enjoyment of the game, and he couldn't stand to be logged on, staring at his naked character. I can't really blame him. I know of a few people that this has happened to, and the word they've used to describe logging in and finding their characters naked and their items sold is Violated. As ridiculous as that might sound, you invest a lot of time in your online character, so it really would be greatly disturbing to log in one day and find that someone else has been on your character, sold all of the gear that you've spent months, if not years acquiring, then sent themselves the gold they got from selling your gear (which would actually go to a temporary account before being sent on to a real account with the temp account then being deleted, yes, virtual money laundering).

So, all of that, to say that this morning Liz and I went to Fry's to check out new computers for me. The computer we were interested in was not available, we were there barely 30 mins after the store opened and they claimed to have sold out of that particular model. I think it was a classic (illegal) bait & switch, but as the PC I ended up getting was considerably better than the PC I was interested in, I'm not unhappy that I couldn't buy my initial choice.

I decided not to install my old hard drive in the new PC, not even to make it a dual drive, which means I pretty much have nothing on this computer. I had to download Firefox and reinstall WoW, again, as I said, for the second time in two days. This time I went to a third party site where the patches downloaded considerably faster, so I've now installed and full updated WoW in approx. 2 hours.

After visiting Fry's we went on to Burlington Coat Factory where Liz was shopping for my mum. Actually she was shopping for the flower girls for my mum's wedding later this year. We ended up tootling around most of the day, visited a second Burlington's :P then on to Marshall's, which is next door to Trader Joe's which is where I get my Weetabix breakfast cereal. We even stopped at Daphne's, which makes pretty good Greek fast food that is almost as good as what you'd get in a real Greek restaurant.

Today has been a funny day. It started out bloody cold. When I logged in to Liz's PC around 8:30am it was a few degrees above freezing. The day ended up getting so warm that we discarded the coats and sweaters we'd needed when we set out on our travels, but now, at 7:20pm, it's once again a few degrees above freezing. My new PC is no help. The old PC used to be a toasty, warm little box and despite being on the northern side of our house our Family Room was still often one of the warmest, but now it's bloody COLD!

Liz just had the awesome idea of sending out for spicy Malaysian food. Unfortunately that means she's sending me out, into the cold, to get the food. Wish me luck!

Public Service Announcement

This is my cousin, Toni. Other than her father (my dad's youngest brother) she is my only blood relative here in the States.



On Saturday March 17th, 2007 (St. Patrick's Day) Toni will be getting her head shaved in an effort to raise money for St. Baldrick's, which helps kids with cancer. I don't know if she's going to go the full Sinead O'Connor or just the Natalie Portman buzz-cut look. I know I have a lot of readers out there that just read my blog but never (or rarely) leave comments, so I figure this will reach a good number of people. Maybe some of you will go to Toni's page and donate some money...maybe if you live in the Cleveland, OH area it might even inspire you to do the same as Toni ;)

I'm impressed that my little cousin is willing to do this, but then she's a Pattison and we (foolishly) never back down from a challenge, so I'm sure it took nothing more than someone telling her she wouldn't dare get her head shaved, not even for charity ;)

It was unprofessional

but understandable, and totally appreciated.

There were about 6 of us waiting in line for the bus at the Bus Station this morning. Also waiting for the bus, but thankfully not in line, was the odiferous Mr. Flip-Flops. Have I mentioned him before? He's what drove me from my usual seat, 2nd on the right, to a little further down the back of the bus, by the mere act of taking the seat (both of them) immediately in front of me.

I've named him Mr. Flip-Flops because I don't want to be as offensive as he is because he always wears Flip Flops (or thongs, as Aussies call them). Although white, Mr. Flip-Flops feet are almost black. We can see this because, as I said, he always wears Flip Flops. Every day. Without fail. Thankfully Mr. Flip-Flops always sits on a bench a short way from the line waiting for the bus, because in case I didn't mention it, to put it bluntly, Mr. Flip-Flops stinks. He stinks like someone who hasn't had a bath or shower this century, but I've seen people in downtown Los Angles who clearly haven't had baths this century, and Mr. Flip-Flops doesn't look like them. His feet do, but he doesn't, so perhaps he has a "condition" that makes him smell that bad.

A week or two ago Mr. Flip-Flops boarded our bus and sat down in what had become his usual seat, but by now I'd claimed a new, usual seat so I didn't care, until the bus driver started calling out, and gesturing back towards us. Then I realized she was gesturing at me. Me? I showed you my bus pass. It's good. I know it is because I just bought it a few days ago.

I went up to see what she wanted. She wanted me to open the window immediately behind her. The window between her and Mr. Flip-Flops. I understood immediately. Did I post about this already? I seem to remember writing this before. Maybe I just told my coworkers or Liz about it.

So today the bus pulled up and the same lady was driving, and the six of us in line boarded the bus. Quite quickly, I might add. I love commuters who, like me, buy a monthly Bus Pass. It makes boarding the bus so much faster. If you're a regular commuter it just doesn't make sense not to buy a pass. I understand that it's expensive, I pay $82 for my Pass, but I ride the bus every day. If you ride the same bus as me every day your trip will cost you either $3 each way, or $5 (return trip) if you buy a Day Pass. I don't even get why people don't buy a Day Pass. It's $3 to ride the bus one day. It's $3 for a Day Pass but you have to pay another $1 because my bus is an Express and takes the Freeway. At the end of the day you board the bus, show the driver your Day Pass and give him another dollar. You just saved $1. Do that over the month with an average of 22 working days and you save yourself $22 (huh. 22 x $1 = $22. Go figure ;) But, 22 x $5 is $110. How much did I say my Monthly Pass was? That's right. $82. That's another $30 saving, or $50 saving compared to paying your fare each way, every day. Over the course of one year that's $600. How would you like to receive $600 every year? That'd be great, wouldn't it, and yet people still pay the regular fare each way, every day, because they can't afford to spend $82 on a Monthly Pass. Of course they can't afford an $82 pass; they have absolutely no grasp of economics. It just boggles my mind that these people (not wanting to stereotype, but they appear to be lower class, minimum wage earners) throw away $600 every year when they could probably really use that money.

So everyone this morning had Bus Passes which meant we all just showed our Pass to the driver and we were on the Bus, and before I'd taken a couple of steps the driver had the door closed and was pulling away from the Station, rather quickly I might add.

The reason for our hasty departure was obvious. The driver did not want Mr. Flip-Flops riding her bus. And we could hardly blame her. The reason she was able to get away without Mr. Flip-Flops is that instead of waiting in line for the bus with the rest of the passengers (and thank God he doesn't...although he might start to, now. Crud!), Mr. Flip-Flops sits down and does a crossword or some other puzzle. So when the bus pulled up this morning he had to put away his puzzle book and gather his belongings (which this morning included a bag of white plastic shopping bags. He had a plastic shopping bag stuffed full to overflowing with plastic shopping bags), and before he could do this, all 6 of us who were waiting in line had boarded and the driver wasted no time in getting the hell out of Dodge. I think she did this yesterday, too. I didn't see Mr. Flip-Flops but she was certainly quick to pull away from the Station as if he was coming.

Very unprofessional, to leave a passenger at the Station when you have nowhere near a full bus, but given the odor of the passenger left behind it was a perfectly understandable action, and very much appreciated by the rest of the passengers.

Reflection

Every now and then as I come into work, I look at the city skyline and I think to my self "What am I doing here?"

I'm not really questioning whether or not I should be where I am in my life, it's more that reality is intruding for a minute (hate it when that happens) forcing me to reflect on where I've come from and where I am now.

I come from a place 37 years ago and 10,000 miles away (although I really only came here to the U.S. in 97-98). It was a small country town in rural Victoria, Australia, with a population of 15,000 people, where everyone may not know your name but they know who your parents or grandparents are, and a lot of people know a lot of other people's business, which is just the way it is with small(ish) country towns. I used to live in a country with a population of approx. 20,000,000 people, and now I live in a megatropolis with a population the same as my home country.

So every now and then I actually notice the towering buildings surrounding me, and I stop for a second as my mind catches up on the past 37 years and contemplates the journey I took from there to here.

How to watch American Gothic

Liz got me the boxed set of American Gothic for Christmas. I watched this years ago in mid to late 90s in Australia, and it wasn't until recently that I found out why the series seemed so disjointed when I watched it.

Both CBS here in the U.S. and whichever station aired it in Australia showed the episodes out of order. When Universal released the boxed set they arranged the episodes on the discs according to CBS's airing date, so if you watch the discs from 1 thru 6 you're doing yourself a disservice, because Disc 6 (or Disc 3) contains unaired episodes which need to be seen partway through the series at certain points, and in one episode one of the major characters leaves the series (for good) but returns in the very next episode, at least he did if you watched the original series or will if you watch the discs from start to finish.

Here's how to watch American Gothic. Note that it involves a lot of disc changing and flipping.

1 - "Pilot" Disc 1, Side A:Episode 1
2 - "A tree grows in Trinity" 1A:2
3 - "Eye of the Beholder" 1A:3 (so far, so good, right? Now flip Disc 1 to side B to watch...)

4 - "Damned if you don't" 1B:1 (now change to Disc 3, side A to watch...)

5 - "Potato Boy" 3A:4 (missing episode, never aired. Now, back to Disc 1, Side B for...)

6 - "Dead to the World" 1B:2
7 - "Meet the Beetles" 1B:3
8 - "Strong Arm of the Law" 1B:4

9 - "To Hell and back" 2B:3 (Yes, Disc 2, Side B:Episode 3)
10 - "The Beast Within" 2B:2 (Yes, Episode 2, the one before the one you just watched. Now flip Disc 2 to Side A.)

11 - "Rebirth" 2A:1 (then change to Disc 3, Side B)

12 - "Ring of Fire" 3B:1 (another mid-season episode that was never aired. Now back to Disc 2, Side A.)

13 - "Resurrector" 2A:2
14 - "Inhumanitas" 2A:3
15 - "The Plague Sower" 2A:4

16 - "Doctor Death takes a holiday" 2B:1
17 - "Learning to crawl" 2B:4

18 - "Echo of your last goodbye" 3B:2 (never aired)
19 - "Strangler" 3B:3 (that's two episodes in a row that were never aired)

20 - "Triangle" 3A:1
21 - "The Buck stops here" 3A:2
22 - "Requiem" 3A:2

So you had 6 discs (or three double-sided discs), but you needed to change/flip them 10 times to watch the series in the correct chronological order. I'm still going to do that when I watch them, because even now, almost a decade later, I can remember things didn't quite make sense when I originally watched American Gothic.

Dinner at Todai

Liz and I had dinner at Todai, a Japanese Noodle House & Sushi Bar. I think this was the second time I've been to Todai. The first time I was not overly impressed. We paid around $20 or so for our meal and I ate hardly anything. This is because at the time I was not overly keen on sushi. I think I ate some Chicken Teriyaki and that was about it.

Liz said me not eating sushi would have been grounds for divorce (irreconcilable differences?) so it's a good thing I eat it now ;)

She said this time when I returned to the table with a plate full of raw fish the people at a nearby table were apparently going nuts that a Kwai Lo (Gaijin) was voluntarily eating sushi.

Midway through our meal a young Chinese man and his female friend (also a Kwai Lo) were shown to the table next to us and they promkptly hit the buffet. When the young lady returned with a plate full of glass noodles and some teriyaki (as opposed to sushi) her male companion seemed flabbergasted that she would come to Todai and not dine on raw fish. When the young man returned to the sushi bar for his second plate the young lady also stood, leaving almost her entire plate of noodles untouched. Seeing someone who needed rescuing (sort of) when she promptly came back to pick up her purse I told her that at the very end of the buffet she'd find the fruit, desserts, and a chef making crepes to order.

The young lady was gone for a long time.

Liz and I were wondering if she'd left (stood up) her "friend", and judging by the concerned way he was looking around I think he was having the same thought. Liz thought it was hilarious and said she'd blog about if she'd left. I said it wasn't funny (not really ;) but sad if she had. But then Liz saw the young lady all the way down at the end of the buffet, where the crepes were being made; the young lady's friend had his view blocked by a pillar and endured several more minutes wondering where his dinner companion was.

Finally she returned with a crepe and plate full of fruit, and once more the young man's eyes bugged out his head. Fruit! Not raw fish! You could see him wondering just why they'd come to Todai if she wasn't going to eat sushi.

As we left and walked past their table the young lady made eye contact with me and I saw her silently mouth Thank You. I smiled at her and nodded my head, You're Welcome.

When my mum and her friend were here a couple of months back they also tried sushi. We gave them the easy stuff though. California Rolls & Philadelphia Rolls. They tried it but weren't too keen on it. Sushi is definitely an acquired taste, and if you don't like it then Todai is not the place for you.

Ironic?

I just closed Firefox, but as I clicked the X to close the last window Firefox decided to crash and shut down, which prompted the QC Prog to boot up, and I just had to send Mozilla the Error Report. I couldn't resist. Because one of the questions the QC Prog asks you is "What were you doing when Firefox stopped working?" Well, I was closing Firefox...so...if Firefox feels the urge to shut down when I tell it to shut down, is that really a problem?

I knew it!

I should have slept in and come in late today. The Boss just came around and said we all can leave at 2:30 today. Which just happens to be the time I am scheduled to leave on Fridays. Typical. At least I'm off next Friday, Dec. 29th when they'd pull the same stunt...and Monday is the New Year's Day Holiday. A 3-day weekend about to begin, a 3-day work week coming up and a 4-day weekend just around the corner. Life is good.

Vegas revisited

Now it wasn't all doom & gloom in Vegas.

Liz got a lot of shopping done at an outlet mall near some place called Whisky Pete's. We actually dropped her there then drove on into Vegas and checked into Circus Circus. Later Liz caught a coach into Vegas and met us at the Bellagio for the buffet dinner. Then we walked The Strip and ended up riding the Monorail north to the end of the line where we turned around and rode it all the way back south. It was pretty late but we got to see all of the lights of the city from the Monorail, so that was cool. We also watched the Bellagio's water & lights show in the artificial lake which fronts their hotel.

Saturday we rode the bus down The Strip for $5 each for a 24 hour pass. JE was free so that was a bonus. We stopped at some mall near Treasure Island, then jumped back on board the bus and rode it down to Mandalay Bay where we toured the Shark Reef. They have handheld units not unlike chunky old cell phones that you can listen to as you walk around the aquarium. The sad thing was the almost constant reminder to turn in your "wand" as Mandalay Bay called them. It would seem as though Vegas is not Sin City but Souvenir City. The wake up call was when we got up Saturday morning and the Do Not Disturb sign was missing from our hotel door. Actually prior to that was the conspicuously absent TV Remote Control. Then again, a previous occupant of the hotel we stayed at in San Diego had stolen the batteries from the TV Remote Control...but at least they left us the remote.

Saturday afternoon we wound up in a mall near Aladdin. It was an amazing mall. The ceiling was painted to resemble the sky, with fluffy white clouds, and as you walked along looking at the stores your eyes tried to tell you that the clouds themselves were moving. It was very realistic. One part of that mall was made out to look like an Italian village complete with a fountain, and every half-hour on Friday, Saturday & Sunday there is a rainstorm in that section of the mall complete with thunder and flashes of light(ning). For the next five minutes the "rain" pours from sprinklers in the ceiling into the fountain accompanied by real rain sounds. Very cool.

Afterwards we rode the bus back up to our hotel where we caught the 9pm Circus performance. I was a bit disappointed that it was nothing more than a 5-min solo trapeze artist/aerial dance act. I would have thought there would be more of a show, at least something for 15 minutes or so. We grabbed a late dinner from the McDonalds located inside the Hotel and took it back to our room where we watched a movie then fell asleep.

Sunday was a lazy buffet breakfast, then a mad dash to get the hell out of Vegas before the traffic. Well you can't beat the traffic (unless you leave the day before) because a lot of people have the same idea and leave early on Sunday, but obviously the later you leave the longer it will take you to get back home. We made it back to L.A. in around 3 hours or so. A respectable time.

We'll go back one day, when the kids are older...maybe when they're old enough to look after themselves for a day or two ;)

People unclear on the concept

My Union somehow created an email list of work email addys and has been sending out propaganda about upcoming activities, slow-downs, stoppages and strike actions. Today someone finally responded and asked to be removed from the "hate mail" list. I know they responded because they sent their request to every single person who'd received the email. That of course inspired several other people to ask to be removed as well, with a few Techies chiming in and telling people if they wanted to be removed to reply to the original sender, not to do a Reply All.

So far three IT people have requested people do a Reply to Sender, and eight TI people have sent a Reply All email. TI would be the Technologically Inept :P

*Update* Five more TIs just asked everyone to remove them from the mailing list, and two more IT just asked why are people continuing to do a Reply All. You have to be amused by TI people, otherwise you'd get arrested for choking the living shit out of them :D

Vegas, and back

After more than eight years here in the U.S. I finally made it to Las Vegas. Liz and I had planned Vegas trips before in the past, but something always came up that required us to cancel. This time around we made it with JE tagging along; Amber stayed home with the grandparents. In retrospect, JE should have stayed behind too, as after eight years in the making this was just a ho-hum kind of trip, and JE added very little to the Wow! factor.

We'd booked into Circus Circus, which is sort of a good place for the kids, but this is Las Vegas, NV. Nowhere is really for the kids. JE wanted to play the games, and there's games everywhere, but 99% of the games require you to be 21 or older. There's also the smoking. We've been spoiled, living here in the people's republic of Kalifornia, and so people passing us in the hotel corridor with cigarettes in their hands or mouths doesn't make for a great vacation, but then is Vegas.

La Reve at the Wynn was also not playing this weekend, and that was The Show I wanted to see. The Pirate show at Treasure Island was also under going maintenance, resuming next weekend. Did I mention JE wanted to play games? That was also all he wanted to do. I know he's six, and every parent the world over has had to (or will have to) deal with a six year old on vacation, but man, this kid just wanted to whine about playing. Sure, we didn't spend money gambling so we spent $25 playing video games for two hours, and as soon as we left the arcade JE started complaining about wanting to go back to the Hotel to play more games.

The buffets I could take or leave. We had dinner the first night at the Bellagio. Now I love this double standard Vegas has. How old is your child? Six? I see. You can't enter the casinos, but to make it up to you we'll charge you the full price for the buffet. JE then proceeded to eat three croissants and several chocolate chip cookies, for which we paid almost $40, for him that is. It was close to $120 for dinner for the three of us. Lovely. At least Liz and I ate our fill.

Eight years in the making. Las Vegas. I could care less if I never go there again. Maybe for one night if just Liz and I go. We can enjoy a buffet without stressing over a $40 croissant, and we can enjoy a show without listening to whining kids wanting to play video games...at least they won't be our own. Speaking of which, it was amazing how many kids we passed sitting on the benches outside the casinos, obviously waiting for mum and/or dad who were inside gambling their money away.

Hooray!

My Kris Kringle/Secret Santa came through today. In fact I actually wound up with two gifts. I got a small potted plant and this 4.5" Globe by Replogle, which is actually kind of cool. You don't have a lot of desk space in a cubicle, so I appreciate it's smaller size :)

Survival Tip #1

Yeah, this is a sad story, but guess what? James Kim was obviously not prepared for the trip he and his family were taking. This was not just a simple road trip from LA to SF. This was a 600+ mile Road Trip. Yeah, capitalized, because this was a big trip. Maybe it's just me being a Boy Scout (and an Australian, and a Survivalist) but I have little sympathy for this guy because he absolutely 100% did the Wrong Thing.

Driving from Portland, OR to San Francisco, CA may look like a walk in the park at Google Maps, but that's a serious drive through serious wilderness, and the Kim family undertook that drive in inclement weather.

James and his family apparently survived for a week (on very limited supplies) before James made the fatal decision to go for help. His family were found within 24 hours of his leaving them. Now James had no way of knowing that rescue was literally hours away, so he's not at fault there. James is at fault for not staying put. He apparently went out into freezing conditions wearing the same clothes he'd wear for a trip to the corner store. Street clothes, he was described as wearing. He had F'ing tennis shoes on his feet. The man was wearing jeans, a light jacket, and tennis shoes, and he set out into blizzard conditions to go for help. Wrong thing to do, James.

WWJD? What would John do? If dressed like James was, John would stay with his family. No, I would not go for help. I would not leave my family behind. Even if I was dressed appropriately I still wouldn't go for help. Even if my family were dressed appropriately we still wouldn't go for help. Of course we also have blankets in our car, including reflective, thermal blankets. We have water, first aid kit, and on long trips I always carry our 2-way radios which have a 20-mile range (probably less in hilly conditions though).

The first rule when you are lost (in the Wilderness, that is) is stay where you are. Set up camp right where you are and DO NOT MOVE! People love you. People will miss you. If you've done the right thing you will have let people know where you're going and when you expect to get there...or get back. If your loved ones do not receive a phone call from you saying you got there (or back) they will alert the authorities, and a search will be conducted, and you will be found. If you're smart you'll be prepared. You'll have provisions in your car or your backpack. You'll have a tent or emergency clothing to keep you warm. Maybe even a sleeping bag. You'll have the ability to make fire. If you have fresh water and you can stay warm and dry, you can survive for at least 2 weeks. If people are missing you and looking for you, they will find you within a week or so. Believe it or not but there are people in this world who when they start looking for a lost person, they do not give up. They may not even know the person they're looking for, but they refuse to give up. If the search is called off it's this person who will find you, and they will find you, but if you wander off, if you move around, you're making their job a damn sight harder. The search will take longer, and you've just increased your chances of being found...dead, like James.

It's (morbidly) amusing how the media are trying to make out James was some sort of superman, that he walked 15 miles through the snow and cold...in a circle...to be found (dead) barely miles from his family car. What kind of effort would that take, people ask. A superhuman effort, is the typical response. No, this is just a guy who wandered off, unprepared and improperly clothed for the conditions, and whose mind probably shut down while his body kept on walking aimlessly. Yeah, he walked 15 miles in the freezing cold in jeans and a jacket, but he's still dead, and if he'd stayed with his family he'd be alive.

You NEVER leave your family. I read stories all the time of the father who leaves his family to go for help. He dies and the family gets rescued because the searchers are looking in the area where the family got lost. Not 10 miles way where the father now is.

If you only take one thing away from this, don't be like James. When you're lost stay where you are. Set up camp, dig in and prepare to be there for a while, and survive.

A day at Sea World

Liz has come down with a cold and went to bed early last night, after telling me she wouldn't be coming to Sea World today. That meant I went with JE, his school-chum W, and W's mom C. C is a CBA, or a Chinese-born American, who speaks very little english, but her english is still better than my chinese.

When I got up this morning I was not feeling too good either, nose was running and I had a tickle in my throat. Maybe Trader Joe's Airborne came through because I'm feeling pretty good now. I decided the kids had been told they were going to Sea World, and so were looking forward to it, so I might as well tough it out and take them. I'd already popped an allergy tablet when I got up (& taken the Airborne) but before leaving I took a couple of Dayquil as well. That might not have been such a wise move because halfway to San Diego I noticed I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. When I found myself drifting towards the left of the lane, and realized I'd just had my eyes closed for a good couple of seconds, I decided it was time to pull over. We pulled into a gas station, had a bit of a stretch, and one Snickers bar & one Full Throttle later we were back on our way and I was feeling good!

The day was kind of interesting. C and I had a bit of chat, as much as the language barrier would let us. JE & W were like the proverbial Odd Couple. Best of friends one minute, trying to kill each other the next. It was a strange day. We went on the Wild Arctic ride, one of those gyroscope rides that tricks you into thinking you're doing something you're not. In Wild Arctic's case it makes you think you're on a helicopter flying over the Arctic, spying on animals, dodging falling rocks and avoiding a blizzard. JE is not too fond of roller coasters, but Wild Arctic is not a roller coaster and I knew he'd like it once it started. I explained to C what the deal was with Wild Arctic, or at least I think I did, so she had no problems going in. I forgot all about W and his mild case of motion sickness (sans the vomiting) on the way down watching JE play Gameboy & DS. As soon as the ride started up W leaned his head on C's shoulder and closed his eyes, opening them occasionally and almost immediately closing them again. But as we were exiting the ride once it was over W was the first to shout "That was cool!"

We saw pretty much everything there is to see at Sea World, that would be of interest to 6-year old boys. We didn't do the log plume ride, or any of the roller coasters (except for Wild Arctic, which isn't a roller coaster), but we saw all of the shows except for the Dolphin Show (which I figured was practically the same as Shamu, just with smaller mammals.) The Dolphin Show also started at about the same time as the Sea Lion & Otter show, so that was the one we saw instead. We also didn't watch R.L. Stine's "Haunted Lighthouse (in 3D)" because the boys vetoed that as soon as I asked if they wanted to see a scary movie. It's not that scary unless you're six years old ;)

The drive home was horrible. Traffic was bumper to bumper almost all 130 miles of the trip, and when we hit the rain in Los Angeles it only made it worse. I think it took us close to three hours to get home (maybe longer). Highlight of the return trip was JE asking W if he'd watched "Grandma got run over by a Reindeer", which was on the TV last night. W said he hadn't. JE said "I did, and guess what? The Grandma got run over by a Reindeer!"

Now I'm home, and I think it's time for coffee.