Happy 4th of July

This morning Liz & her Mom, and JE & I headed out to the Ontario Mall. While the women were shopping JE and I caught the Transformers movie. It was actually pretty good, for a movie based on a 20-year old animated TV show. Amusingly my last post was relevant to a tiny portion of the movie when the power of the All Spark (a cube that turns tech into transformers) was demonstrated on a cell phone. The guy doing the demonstration looks at the phone and comments that the Japanese are geniuses. Another character then says, aside, to her boss, "Nokia (No-KEY-Uh) are from Finland." Her Boss holds his finger up to his mouth in a "Shh, don't embarrass him" kind of way.

We were barely home from the mall and the movie when it was time for JE and I had to head back out again to Dodger Stadium. When we'd tried to buy tickets for this game a couple of weeks ago the "cheap seats" were all sold out and we ended up buying seats alongside the Left Foul Line, but three tiers up. Here's a picture of our view of the field, courtesy of my Razr V3xx:

We're actually closer than what it looks like.

It still would have been an exceptional Foul Ball that made it up to us, but not knowing quite how far up we were JE and I took our gloves anyway. The Dodgers lost but it came down to the wire, and at the bottom of the 9th the Dodgers needed 3 Runs for the tie and had 2 runners on base, with 2 outs. But it wasn't meant to be and their "last chance" struck out.

Interesting to note is that the Dodgers' Short Stop, Rafael Furcal, started his career with the Braves and played with them until 2005. In case you didn't know, the team the Dodgers played tonight was the Braves. When I saw that on the big screen everything came together because the Dodgers player I'd seen walk up to the Braves runner on 2nd and give him a "What's happening, Homie?" handshake and have a moment during a mid-innings downtime was none other than Rafael Furcal.

At the bottom of the ninth the Dodgers' hitter who struck out with two runners on base was not Rafael Furcal. But it was Rafael who struck out with the bases loaded at the bottom of the second, ending the innings. A Home Run, or even just a Hit, would have given the Dodgers another Run or two (or four) and could have made a world of difference at the end of the night. Rafael avoided any further dishonor by making it to first base at the bottom of the ninth where he watched Olmedo Saenz strike out to end the game. Of course he can't win, either way. If he'd struck out to lose the game against his former team I'd have said he threw the game, especially in light of his "What's happening, Homie?" gesture towards the Braves' runner. And of course he didn't strike out but made it to first base; the Braves didn't want the Dodgers to suspect Rafael was not 100% loyal to them and that he'd thrown the game earlier by striking out with the Bases Loaded.

A C-17 flyover had been arranged prior to the game and here's a picture:
Did I mention there were fireworks at the end of the game? JE and I braved the stairs and just made it down to the field when the lights went out. Yup, we were allowed to take the field to watch the fireworks, which was something JE was looking forward to. Actually that's two things he was looking forward to, being on the field and watching the fireworks. Here's a short clip of the Fireworks, again courtesy of my Razr.

When we finally made it back to our car (I'm sure we emerged from the stadium on the complete opposite side to our car) I abandoned my plan of just sitting and waiting for most of the traffic to clear and rolled out to try my luck with all the SUVs Angelenos feel compelled to own. We actually made it out fairly quickly, considering how disorganized the parking lot is. But we wound up in the wrong lane and got routed off Stadium Way by the helpful traffic police, who further down the road again routed us away from the 110S entrance. I guess they figured if we were all going that particular way we needed the 110N, the entrance of which we passed shortly afterwards. After passing over the 110 we ended up in Chinatown and I knew exactly where to go to get onto the I-10, which is the Freeway I really needed (the 110S would have taken me straight to the I-10 as well).

Playing his DS I thought JE was going to hang on until we got home but a glance in my kiddy mirror a little while later showed JE fast asleep. He'd had a nap in the car on the way to Dodger Stadium but it was just a short one, and this time he was out for the count.

Nokia: A mispronunciation

or When the Japanese are really Finnish

I don't know if it's just me, or a misconception held by the general populace, but Nokia is not a Japanese company. Nope, it's not, Nokia is Finnish, as in from Finland.

So if Nokia is not Japanese but Finnish, how do we pronounce Nokia? Is it still No-KEY-Uh? Nope. Uh uh. That's a Japanese pronunciation, but Nokia are not a Japanese company, they're Finnish. The best pronunciation I could find, from a Fin himself, put the emphasis on the NO, not on the KEY. But the Fin didn't elaborate as to whether it's NO-Key-Uh or KNOCK-Ee-Uh. Although he did state that the first syllable is short, like the rest of the word, which makes me think he actually means KNOCK-Ee-Uh. Because the O in Knock is short, whereas the O in No is long.

But when push comes to shove Nokia actually cannot be correctly pronounced in English, or in any language for that matter, but Finnish. You can come close, but unless you know how to speak Finnish or make the correct Finnish sounds, you cannot pronounce Nokia correctly. Until then, the best we have to go with is KNOCK-Ee-Uh.

All this is a moot point, really, because I no longer have a Nokia but a Razor, or MotoRazr as it's correctly known...aah crap, I just have a cell phone. Then again, in Australia or the U.K. I'd actually have a Mobile.

Can't we all just get along???

But all of this brings up an interesting point. What is the "correct" pronunciation of a word? Can you say that the correct pronunciation in the U.S. is No-KEY-Uh if that's how almost every Nokia user pronounces it? And what if that's how it's pronounced in commercials? What if that's how the CEO of Nokia USA pronounces it?

What if, like in the US of A (and many other countries in the world), people from different parts of Finland have slightly different accents, and so the Fins themselves have several different ways of pronouncing Nokia? Does it come down to how the CEO of Nokia Finland says it? Or is it how it's pronounced in commercials in Finland...Finland, Finland. The country where I want to be Pony Trekking or camping.

Aah, let's forget Nokia, Finland, and even obscure Monty Python references, and just listen to some singing horses from Sweden the country that gave us ABBA.

The weekend in review

As has become customary, our trip down San Diego way this Friday was via Ontario, specifically the Homestyle Cafe on Old Brookside Road in Guasti where we stopped for a late breakfast. Liz and I split a plate of Pork Chops and eggs with breakfast potatoes, biscuits & gravy, and we pretty much managed to finish the plate. JE got the kids breakfast pancake, which was not a kid's pancake but one of their regular pancakes and it was as big as JE's head...bigger even. I helped him out and together we devoured most of it.

We weren't overly impressed with the service this time around, mainly because a large group of bikers were already there so the place was very crowded for a Friday morning. Our waitress seemed to have no clue how to be a waitress, but I'm sure I've seen her working there before. Several times she passed our table, and she'd acknowledge us, but she just kept saying "I'll get to you a minute" or something like that. Finally she stopped but only to ask if we wanted coffee, and as soon as she poured Liz and I a cup each she was off and running again. I didn't get why she couldn't just take our order as several times she brought other people their food then ran passed our table, empty-handed, back to the kitchen area. Of course once we'd finally ordered our food was pretty quick in coming.

The trip down to Carlsbad (Legoland area) was uneventful, which is good, except for the guy who'd run his car headfirst into the concrete divider which backed up traffic for a bit, but finally we'd made it to Legoland. Liz dropped JE and me near the front entrance then went off shopping at the nearby outlet mall. We met up later and after a bit of a drive found this local deli where JE refused to eat anything but chips, I had some roast pork (very tender and tasty), while Liz had prime rib. Afterwards we shared a cup of coffee and a slice of chocolate cake (this is a euopean/german-style deli) before the drive back home.

Saturday morning Liz took JE to the in-laws, picked up our daughter and took her to ballet, then dropped her back at the in-laws before coming home where we spent the next hour or two cleaning up the kids toys in the upstairs hallway, and we did an awesome job of cleaning and getting the place straightened out. We also visited Lowe's where we got two new toilets and Liz picked out the tile to redo the upstairs bathrooms' floors. We also checked out shower stalls and our en suite bathroom will get a total overhaul for well under $1,000, at least in materials; not sure how much the family friend will charge us for labor. The plan is to remove our current tub/shower which takes up 1/3 of the bathroom and replace it with a corner shower stall (half the size), while also having the current linoleum floor replaced with slate/tile. This will really open up our bathroom. The second new toilet will go in the kids' bathroom which will also get a slate/tile floor. I'm hopeful that these new toilets will do a much better job of flushing unmentionables than our current toilets, which tend to do an incomplete job and prompt one to flush a second time...and maybe a third. In light of one my recent posts that's not a very water conscious act.

Sunday we bummed around most of the day before joining the kids at the in-laws where we spent far too long in the pool. Last week almost the entire complex was in the pool, this time we just had 3 families in the water and it was considerably more pleasant. Our daughter is really taking to the water now. We have a vest on her so she can float and bob around and she loves in. At one point she had a nerf ball filled with water and she was squeezing it out on my head. The next thing I knew she was climbing into the pool and sitting on my back. "Look at me!" she'd cry to Liz. This is one of her favorite phrases right now. "Look at me! I'm swimming!"

With the summer evening fast approaching it was starting to get a little cool and we managed to get the kids out of the pool and inside in showers, followed by a yummy dinner prepared by Liz's mom. It's funny how the food her mom prepares is traditional Shanghai-style food, but it's certainly not what most westerners would consider traditional chinese food. That doesn't mean it's not yummy, coz it is :) In fact I offer prefer Liz's mom's food to the same dishes we sometimes order in Shanghai-style restaurants. Mmm-mm good :)

Steroids...how effective are they?

or a completely uneducated, uninformed narrative.

What can steroids do? First I'd like to tell you what they can't do. They can't enhance what you don't have. They can't make you a better baseball player unless you're already a good baseball player. They can't make you a Home Run machine unless you already have the skills to hit the ball. Any idiot can swing a bat, but it takes good hand-eye coordination to swing a bat and hit a baseball moving at 95mph; it takes even more skill to not just hit the ball, but hit it where you want it to go. Steroids cannot make you do this if you couldn't hit the ball in the first place.

This may sound like I'm advocating steroid use in sports, particularly baseball, and of course the first baseballer you're going to think of with respect to steroids and being a home run machine is Barry Bonds...or maybe Sammy Sosa. I'm not advocating the use of steroids in sports, and I'm not saying Barry or Sammy used them.

I was all ready to write a scathing article about Barry Bonds and how steroids have perverted the game and how there will always be a dark cloud hanging over Barry's head if/when he breaks Hank Aaron's all-time Home Run record, even though it's never been proven that he used steroids. But as I read about Barry on Wikipedia and checked out his Stats I came to the realization that all steroids could possibly do for Barry was make him stronger. They don't help him hit the 95mph baseball, they only help him hit the ball harder & further.

You may (or may not) be interested to know that while Barry may not (yet) be the All-Time Home Run King, he is still a current Baseball record holder, several times over.

• He is one of only four players in the 40-40 club. That's 40 (or more) Home Runs and 40 (or more) stolen bases in a single season.


• He's the only player to have hit 400 or more Home Runs and stolen 400 or more Bases in their career, in fact he's now in the 500/500 bracket. He's not just a dangerous man to have at bat, he's a dangerous man to have on base, too.


• Despite this, he holds the record for the most walks in both a season (198), and in a career, having been walked 2,439 times, to date. He also holds the record for the most intentional walks in a season (68 times).


• He went eight consecutive seasons with a .600 (or higher) Slugging Percentage (being Total Bases div. by At Bats). So the pitchers probably think it's safer to walk him to first and let him try to steal a base or two, than risk letting him hit a double, triple, or even a Home Run.

What does all of this say about Barry Bonds and his possible use of Steroids?

It says that with or without steroids (not saying he took them, that would be libel, being the written form of slander) that Barry Bonds is an amazing baseball player. As I said earlier, steroids don't help you hit a baseball, they just help you hit it further. You still need to be able to hit the damn thing, and no amount of steroids is going to help you there. Look at those 2,500 career walks and don't doubt for a minute that Barry couldn't have hit a lot more Home Runs than his current 749. Forget Hank Aaron's 755 career Home Runs, if it wasn't for the many intentional walks Barry would have smashed Hank's record several seasons ago and would probably have had close to 1,000 career Home Runs by now.

I disagree with sports stars taking steriods for anything other than recovering from an injury, but I also disagree with pitchers deliberately walking a batter, and despite their best efforts it looks like Barry will still succeed in breaking Hank's record. Now if Barry did take steroids or some other performance enhancing drug, those he is alleged to have taken were not barred by MLB at the time it is alleged he took them. The only thing illegal about them at that time was their use without prescription, but his use of them was not in violation of any MLB rules or policies. Intentionally walking a batter is also not in violation of the rules, it's a cheap tactic, it does not make for good TV, but it's also permissible.

Steroids may have helped Barry hit the ball further and thus hit Home Runs that may have otherwise fallen into the outfield, but the pitchers have also been working against Barry and denied him the opportunity to hit many more Home Runs. Two wrongs don't make a right but no matter how immoral or cheap we may think their actions were/are, neither Barry nor the pitchers have done anything wrong in the world of professional baseball.

Learning to dance

or I got rhythm but I don't got the moves

I can carry a tune and sing pretty well but I hate 3/4 time, it just seems...unnatural; It's like there's a beat missing, and theoretically there is, if you're used to 4/4 time in which most songs are written. I find it especially difficult trying to play a 3/4 song on guitar because the chord changes are usually on the 1st and 3rd note of each bar, so you might play a song like this:
A and 2 and C and G and 2 and D and A and 2 and C and G and 2 and D and so on, and usually I've lost it by then. In 4/4 time the chord changes follow a more natural rhythm. A and 2 and C and 4 and G and 2 and D and 4 and A and 2 and so on.

So it shouldn't come as a big surprise that I have trouble dancing the Waltz and other classical dances, which are almost all written in 3/4 time. Or at least I did have trouble until last night when Liz and I went to our first Ballroom Dance Class, and I learned a little secret about Classical Dancing. I learned that rather than dance a Waltz while counting Ooone Two Three, Ooone Two Three, and so on, it's actually easier to count Ooone Two Three, Foooour Five Six. This made a whole lot more sense for a very simple reason. On One you take a longer stride with your Left Foot, and on Four you take a longer stride with your Right Foot, and on Two, Three, Five and Six you take shorter steps. Now there's no confusion trying to remember which foot you're supposed to move on One this time, because if it's One it's your Left Foot, and if it's Four it's your Right Foot.

Of course this usually only got confusing when you performed what the Teachers called a Box Waltz, being one you perform on a crowded dance floor where you have enough room to turn on the spot but cannot move around the floor itself. So you'd step forward with your left foot (one), bring your right foot up and to the side (two), then bring your left foot across to your right foot (three). Now step back with your right foot (four), bring your left foot back and to the side (five), then move your right foot across to meet it (six), and repeat with left foot forward (one), and so on. A Waltz is not a three-step dance, it is, but not really. It's actually a six-step dance because you alternate feet with each longer step. As such, dancing a Waltz and counting Ooone Two Three Foooour Five Six, and so on, makes learning to dance a Waltz a darn sight easier.

They just might make a dancer out of me, yet.

Conserving Water

Or An Idea with Merit, but hardly Practical

Our Director sent out a Memo, basically restating what the Mayor had said about cutting our water consumption by 10%. I totally wanted to reply to it asking if that meant instead of drinking 5 bottles of water per day I should only drink 4 1/2, but I refrained. Probably a wise idea ;)

Seriously, how do they expect people who work in an office to reduce water consumption. Actually, here are a few ideas )

To: All Staff
Re: 10% reduction in Water Consumption.
Date: Today! Now!

Here are a few suggestions to assist staff with the Mayor's goal of reducing water consumption by 10%

* Drink 4 1/2 bottles of water per day, not 5.
* Only fill the 10-cup coffee maker to the 9-cup mark.
* Keep track of your trips to the restroom. On the 10th trip do not flush the toilet or wash your hands.
* Every 10th person who wants to wash their coffee cup or lunch dishes in the sink...cannot.

Please feel free to include other helpful suggestions of how we can all save water. Together we can make a difference.

Not a bad weekend

or I knew I should have turned left at Albuquerque

Friday morning after dropping the kids at school Liz and I had breakfast together at a local diner. Then we went shopping at Liz's favorite store where we purchased a garden storage bin. Back home, aided by my trusty rubber mallet, I put the thing together, loaded it up with "stuff" then parked it around the back. I then felt compelled to clean up the backyard, which included trimming one of the trees and replacing the latch on the gate. After lunch I waited for the Cable Guy, and waited, and waited, and around 3:45pm he finally arrived to install our DVR (he was scheduled to be there between 1pm and 3pm). With the DVR set up JE and I hit the local Par 3 golf course where he was ecstatic to be allowed to drive the golf cart around. They've done a bit of grounds work and it's not just a simple Par 3 anymore, now it's a little bit challenging. I made a few Pars, but I also had my share of triple Bogeys. I lost one hole to JE, and on another was thinking too much about the bunker guarding the front of the green, flubbed my tee-shot, and hit my ball barely 10 feet in front of me. Yup, on one hole my 7-year old son hit his tee shot further than me. I managed to scrape in with a +19 score. Liz picked us up around 8:30 and it was hometime and bedtime.

After breakfast with the in-laws (and leaving the kids with them) we headed east out to Ontario. I wanted to take Liz to Victoria Gardens, a mall I'd discovered on a site visit out that way, but I couldn't quite remember where it was. We exited the 15N at Foothill, which is the correct exit, but we turned right instead of left, so after a detour we wound up at Ontario Mills Mall which is where Liz wanted to go anyway.

We shopped around a bit then I finally convinced Liz to come in to Dave & Busters with me where we played a few games of Ghost Squad, or tried to. They have four Ghost Squad machines set up in the Ontario D&B, and it wasn't until we sat down at the third machine that we were able to get a game together. On the first machine the trigger on my rifle was jammed. The attendant appeared like lightning and set us up on the second machine with 10 credits. Liz burned through most of them because my rifle on the second machine didn't work properly either.

After that Liz and I had lunch, in D&B, and then decided to give another machine one last chance, because I still hadn't been able to play :( This machine and its rifles worked pretty good, and Liz and I were soon sitting side-by-side mowing down terrorists. We beat the first two levels and made it to the end of the final level, grenaded the boss's shield away, then promptly forgot we had grenade launchers and tried to shoot the final boss to pieces. He still had a tiny bit of health left when we ran out of time and I swear if we'd both just tossed a couple more grenades we would have beaten the game. Someone claimed she didn't like video games, but I think she enjoyed playing Ghost Squad ;)

Sunday afternoon we rescued the in-laws and went swimming in their pool. Our baby girl was a little scared to go in, but with a little bit of encouragement (and no, that doesn't mean we just tossed her in) she was swimming around with me. More to the point she was holding on to my shoulders, and kept afloat by her buoyancy vest she felt confident enough to kick her legs. Then it was all "Look at me! I'm swimming!". She even got a face full of water a few times but it didn't phase her, and when it was finally time to get out she had to be dragged kicking and screaming from the pool. It's a big change from last year when she'd cling to me for dear life and couldn't wait to get out.

All in all, it was a pretty good weekend.

Carbs in coffee

Or Why you can't lose weight drinking coffee.

Actually you can, but how many of us drink straight coffee these days? I do, at home, but I also put in an ounce or two of creamer. At Starbucks or Gloria Jeans or a random coffee house I usually order a Latte. Now I've recently taken to drinking non-fat lattes in an effort to be a little healthier, but a recent trip to a dieting website to find out how many carbs are in my coffee revealed some startling news.

A 16-oz latte made with whole milk can contain approx. 23 grams of carbohydrates and 146 calories, while a non-fat latte contains approx. 24 grams of carbs and 86 calories. Less calories for going non-fat, which is good, but practically the same amount of carbs; not so good if you're trying to lose weight. That morning latte has almost 25g of carbs in it, which is 5g more than the recommended daily allowance of carbs for a starting Atkins' dieter.

Then you get another latte midway through the morning, and maybe a third after lunch to take back to the office. Midway through the afternoon, as you're struggling with a report the boss just dumped on you, a coworker suggests a Starbucks run and you're all over that like Whipped Cream on a Frappuccino. Congratulations. You've just consumed 100g of carbs in one day, and that's potentially your average work day. You cut out 300 calories going non-fat (which counts for something), but you're still snarfing down all those carbs.

Guess it's time to switch from Lattes to Cafe Americanos. After all, water can't have many carbs in it, can it? Can it?

Thank you, Dad

Or how we're shaped by our parents

I'm a fairly capable guy with my hands. When we moved into our house I tore up the downstairs carpet and laid down wood-laminate flooring. I replaced the dining area chandelier, the stairway light, the upstairs hallway light fixture, and all the light fixtures in all three bathrooms, as well as the faucets in the same. I took out the sliding glass door for the kids' bath and put in a shower rod and curtain. I completely removed the kids' toilet when it got clogged up, extracted the plastic, toy boat and reinstalled the toilet.

Today, after a trip to Home Depot, I removed the old tap & pipe leading from the wall to the toilet tank (after turning off the water to the house, which annoyingly doesn't turn off but still slowly runs so you have to turn on the downstairs taps and it's bloody lucky I was working in the upstairs bathroom) and...er...forgot where I was. Oh yeah, in our bathroom, replacing the old flexible but still fairly solid pipe with a considerably more flexible pipe so Liz and I can use our en-suite toilet again. Which I accomplished most successfully.

I have my father to thank for my handyman skills, but it's not so much handyman skills, it's an almost unshakable faith in myself that leads me to believe I can do almost anything around the house, and I probably could, with the right tools.

My father may have moved on to the next stage in his journey through life & death (or whatever happens after this) but he lives on through me. Almost all of our parents will live on through us, and through our children, both the good and the bad. We have them to thank for the positives in our lives, and we (usually) have them to thank for the negatives.

"When I grow up I'm never going to treat my kids this way," you might say to your mum, then lo & behold, what happens? You grow up, have kids, and find yourself treating them exactly the same way your mum treated you...often because your kids are treating you the same way you treated your mum ;)

Embrace the positive, and try to change the negative for the better, but don't worry (too much) if you can't, it's your nature.

One fine day in downtown

Or Fiction from the twisted mind of the Cap'n

"I like your ring."

"Huh?" I looked across at the man standing next to me, looked down at the ring on my left hand, then back up at the man. "It's my wedding ri...", the words tapered off as I stared down the barrel of the gun in his hand.

"Give me the fucking ring!" he yelled.

"I like your gun," I said. "Is it a Glock, or a Smith and Wesson?"

"Huh?" he said, confused, momentarily looking down at the gun in his hand. He looked up to see me stepping in towards him. I reached for the gun, twisting my body as he fired a round at point blank range, then my hands closed on the blistering hot metal. Who knew that a gun could get so hot after firing just one round?

I ignored the burning in my fingers and twisted the gun around and up and in a heartbeat the situation had changed and the gun was now pointing at him and it was his turn to look down the barrel.

I'd closed my hands over his so his hands were still wrapped around the gun and his finger was still on the trigger.

"I suggest you let go," I said calmly. "If you fight for the gun it's going to go off, and you'll get shot."

"FUCK YOU!" He screamed. For a second he pushed against me but just for a second, for like I'd said the gun exploded, along with the back of his head, and just like his brains all the fight went out of him.

I let go of his hands and the gun and stepped back as his body collapsed at my feet. I was feeling a little light headed myself, after-effects of the adrenaline rush, I figured. Rather than fall down I sat down and listened to the wailing of sirens that was getting closer and louder. In the heart of downtown the police were never far away, and within seconds a Black & White screeched to a halt with one wheel up on the curb, and two officers leaped out, their guns drawn and pointing in my direction.

I stood up and held out my empty hands, trying to be as non-threatening as possible, which can be tough when you're standing over a dead body.

"He tried to rob me," I said. "We struggled and his gun went off."

One officer looked at me and lowered his gun. The other ignored me and knelt at the body at my feet. I saw him check for a pulse but he stopped when the second officer, still looking at me, said "Don't bother, he's gone." To me, he added, "why didn't you give him what he wanted?"

"He wanted my wedding ring," I said, holding up my hand.

"How much could it be worth?" he asked me.

"My wedding ring? Priceless! Sentimental value and all that."

"What about your life? What value would you put on that?"

"Well, that's priceless too, of course."

"So you traded one for the other?" he asked me, sadly.

"Huh?"

He gestured to his partner, still kneeling at the body at my feet. I looked down at his partner but he wasn't looking back at me. He was looking up at the second officer.

I looked back at the second officer, too. "I don't understand."

"Look again," he said.

I looked down, this time at the body at my feet...my body...at my feet. The front of my body's shirt was soaked in blood.

I looked up at the second officer. "But...I..."

"I'm sorry," he said. "But you're dead. You traded your life for a wedding ring."

"Guess I wasn't as good at dodging bullets as I thought," I mused.

Then I noticed a speck of light out of the corner of my eye, growing brighter and brighter. The officer and I turned to look at it. The other officer just looked at his partner.

"How's it going?" he said.

"Good," replied the second officer. "He's been good; he's getting the light."

"Cool," said the first officer.

"Only I can see you," said the second officer, looking at me. "Or hear you. My mother was a witch, so was my grandmother, and her mother before her. I got the sight from them. You're lucky you're getting the light. See, the dark's got him." He gestured to the ground and I looked and saw my would-be mugger's body, covered in black ant-like specks. His dead body appeared to be glowing but the dark specks crawled all over him and they seemed to be eating his body's light because it got fainter as I watched.

"Oh look at that," said the second officer, and I obeyed, my eyes drawn to the speck of light which was no longer a speck but had grown brighter and larger and was now the size of a door. A figure appeared in the light and I watched as it stepped through. Gradually my eyes adjusted to the glare and I could make out the features of its face and my heart leaped, or it would have, if I hadn't been dead.

"Cathy! Oh my God! Is it really you?"

"Hi, Peter," said the voice that now, truly belonged to my angel. "I missed you."

"Oh Cathy," I said, "I missed you, too!"

I don't know how two spirits managed it but we embraced, and the years since death had torn us apart melted away into nothing.

Finally I turned and faced the second officer. I held up my hand, my left hand, which somehow wore a ghost of my wedding ring, an endless loop, a symbol of my never ending love for Cathy.

"I told you it had sentimental value," I said.

"Priceless," was his reply.

I nodded to him, and holding hands Cathy and I stepped into the light and were gone, together.

The dogsh name was Junior!

Or Shades of Indiana!

While strolling back from the local Starbucks I passed a lady I'd passed before (not today, another day, another "before"). I recognized her but I didn't recognize her, because I recognized her dog. It was a little rat dog Chihuahua with a t-shirt. You don't see many dogs in t-shirts around my office, most of them are in buns. So this dog stood out. I passed the dog in a t-shirt and its owner and was waiting for the pedestrian crossing when I heard a voice calling out, "Junior! Come over here! Get over here, Junior!"

I turned around and it was the lady I hadn't recognized calling to the dog in a t-shirt that I had.

The only reason I could think of for calling a dog "Junior" is a maternal fantasy, an unfulfilled desire to be a mother. Dogs might be family but projecting your non-existent child on to them is just scary. Which is a very apt description for this woman. A few hundred years ago we might have burned her, or dunked her in the local pond. Or both. Better to dunk them afterwards though, they don't burn so well when they're wet.

MTV Awards

Or What most people are probably talking about around the Water Cooler this morning?

And it's not who won what award, but, OMG! Did you see Will Ferrell and Sacha Baron Cohen kiss?!?!?

I'll confess, I have not seen either Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for make blah blah blah, or, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, which narrowly avoids a blah blah blah of its own for an excessively long title. Will Ferrell has some classic moments, and I've seen some clips from Borat which I also thought were rather amusing, and I'd probably sit down and watch either movie if they were on and enjoy them, too.

I found last night's Kiss (which I think deserves a capital K) and the preceeding interaction between Will and Sacha to be hilarious, and brilliant off-the-wall comedy. By contrast, when Sacha came out to accept his award for Borat (the movie), and he apologized on Borat's behalf (Borat the man/character), I felt his acceptance speech was rather flat, especially coming on the heels of The Kiss (now with a capitalized The ;)

I think a better acceptance speech would have been if Sacha had thanked Will Ferrell, and stage-whispered an "I love you" to him, but while funny that would have had no relevance to Borat (the movie). Borat himself could even have made the acceptance speech, and perhaps Sacha should have gone down that road, instead. Perhaps pre-recording a segment as Borat (in Kazakhastan) then talking with him as if it were live footage. Sacha as Borat's straight man might have been a winner.

Grammer Gods, where are you?

Or And and Or. Which is correct? And when? And why not both?

While writing a letter I created a sentence where I stated that I was forced to choose between two alternatives, essentially I said:
Forced to choose between riding Public Transport for three hours or spending one hour in my car I chose to drive.

Now I tried adding a comma between car and I but it made no difference; in both cases Word's Grammar/Spellchecker insisted there was a mistake with the or. When I hit F7 it told me the correct word to use was and. Which makes sense, but or also made sense to me. I can choose one or the other, right? So why is it correct to use or in the sentence immediately preceding this one, but I must use and in my example?

I'm here, and not there

or Is coping through avoidance really coping? Or just avoiding?

Honestly, I don't know whether it's easier or harder having been here for the last 8 years.

Easier, because I've been living my life for the last 8 years without my father's constant presence, so the only day-to-day difference is that I'll never hear his voice on the other end of the telephone.
Harder, because I never lived with him for the last 8 years, so I never watched him die a little more each day, until at the end perhaps it was a relief to know his suffering was finally over.

In August I return to Australia for the third time since my father's death. The first time was to bury him, and the second time was barely a month or so later for the trip that should have introduced my daughter to her Pop. This time around I'll be walking my mother down the aisle as she marries the new man in her life.

Again, easier, because I don't have to live there and constantly see my mother with someone other than my father?
Or harder, because I was never there with her as she stuck to her vows until Death did her and my father part. So I never witnessed her depression as day-by-day she watched the man she loved slowly die, so I'm also not there now to see the positive changes in her, or share in her joy at finding someone new to love.

In September I will be doing one of the hardest things (I hope) that I will ever have to do in my life. I will have to walk down the aisle with my mother and give her away, essentially let her go to a complete stranger, a man I've never met. I know my mum loves him, I know he has the approval of my sisters and one of mum's closest friends, but that won't make it any easier. But I have to do it, anyway.

Bravery is not about being unafraid; it's about being terrified but doing the right thing anyway. The right thing for me to do is let my mum live her life. It's right to let her live, and not expect her to become a Miss Havisham.

In September I will have to really face the fact that my father is gone and that he's never coming back, and that terrifies me.

Selling Virtual Property

Or how to avoid getting scammed.

So you leveled your WoW toon/s to 80, got him(them) decked out in ZOMG! Epix! Pewpewpew! then you decided you wanted to sell your account and move on to WAR/LOTR (or some other MMO). The classic way to sell your account is via eBay, and contrary to what anyone might try to tell you selling your WoW account is entirely legal and totally allowed by Blizzard's TOS and EULA.

From WoW's EULA, 4.(b) Ownership - You may permanently transfer all of your rights and obligations under the License Agreement to another only by physically transferring the original media (e.g., the CD-ROM or DVD you purchased), all original packaging, and all Manuals or other documentation distributed with the Game;

and Wow's Terms of Use, 10. Security of Login Information - You are responsible for maintaining the confidentiality of the Login Information...

Blizzard give you the right to sell your copy of WoW, and while TOU 7. No Ownership Rights in Account makes it quite clear that you have no ownership rights to your account, Blizzard do make you responsible for the security of your WoW Account Info. Thus you have the right to sell your copy of the game, and you also have the right to provide someone else with your Account information.

BUT!!! (and yes, that's a big 'but') WoW's TOU 8. Account Suspension/Deletion gives Blizzard the right to suspend or delete said Account for any reason (or no reason) whatsoever. I'd say "so don't give them a reason to suspend/ban you" but it's kind of pointless when they don't even need a reason. If you agree to play their game you also agree to let Blizzard suspend/ban you at any time for any reason, or for no reason at all. That's just how deals with the devil work.

Anyway, enough with the legal mumbo jumbo, let's get on with the Guide to selling Virtual Property.

Step 1 - Create your eBay auction, listing it as WoW Online Game, inc. all CDs for both Expansions, manuals, etc, (inc. bonus lvl 80 Character) or something like that. Feel free to list the pertinent parts of WoW's EULA by which you have the right to sell your particular copy of the game as long as you transfer all media that came with the game.

Step 2 - Accept the Paypal payment. Really, Paypal is fine; trust me. If you can get a Bank/Cashier's Check that's ok too, but Paypal is your friend. NEVER accept a Personal Check but if you must, make sure it clears first. Or sell it to a Check Cashing Agency, take the 10%+ hit, and let them deal with the scammer when his check bounces.

Step 3 - Do NOT email the Buyer your Account Name & Password, seriously, and no, you're not trying to scam them either.

Step 3(a) - Use UPS, FedEx, Registered USPS, or any Certified Mail Service which provides a Tracking Number and/or Receipt Confirmation to snail-mail the CDs, Gamebox, Manuals, etc, to the Buyer. Insist on receipt confirmation. Do not email the Account Name & Password to they Buyer (yet). Ignore any threats by the Buyer to leave negative feedback on your eBay Account if you don't email them the Account Name & Password RIGHT NOW!!!

Step 4 - Get confirmation that the Buyer has received your snail mailed items. If necessary, print out this information and keep it in a secure place. This is proof that the Buyer has physically taken possession of the item you sold, and it will save your arse and money in the event of a dispute.

Step 5 - NOW you can email the Buyer your Account Name & Password. Ignore them when they say they can't log in and they want their money back. Try logging in yourself and you'll see they've already changed the password from whatever it was you set it to, and if they didn't change it they're an idiot.

Step 5(a) - Tell them you know they've logged in because they've already changed the password so they should stop being a douche bag, go play WoW and lrn2play.

Step 5(b) - Tell them the Account Name & Password work fine because you just logged in using them, and here they are again in case they typed them incorrectly. Try logging in again and you'll see they've now changed the password. Refer to Step 5(a).

Step 6 - Provide Paypal with evidence of physical proof of delivery when the douche bag tries to dispute the transaction, claiming they never received the item and they want their money back. If you'd only emailed them your Account Name & Password that might have worked and you'd have been screwed, but you sent them a physical copy of the game and you have proof that they received it. Who cares that they agreed to pay $1,000 for a copy of WoW (inc. bonus lvl 80 character)? You sold your account on eBay and avoided getting scammed. You win!

Step 7 - Fire up WAR/LOTR (or your other new MMO) and enjoy.

Step 0 - (Yes, I know this should have been the first step) Avoid screwing over your WoW friends by letting them know you're going to sell your account, remove yourself from any Guilds, and delete all Friends in your Friends List before you provide the buyer with your account name & password.

The Beginning of the End?

Or is House about to jump the shark?

Last night on the season finale Dr. House fired Dr. Chase, while Dr. Foreman and Dr. Cameron handed in their resignation.

Now the show is called House, and the X-Files was not called "Scully & Mulder" but the same principle holds true with House as it did for the X-Files. Hugh Laurie is a brilliant actor and while his dry, sarcastic wit as Dr. House is the icing, it's his interaction with his fellow staff that make the cake. Just like the X-Files fell apart when there was no more Fox Mulder (or very little of him), House would never be the same without its supporting cast. That's not to say the producers couldn't replace one actor at a time, after all, how often do real doctors stick around in general practice? Usually they want to finish their internship and go into private practice as soon as possible. House could survive the loss of one character here, one character there, etc, but for three characters to leave in one episode? That's a serious hemorrhage that would kill any show.

Fortunately the internet scuttlebutt says the three will be back next season. House avoids jumping the shark...for now.

A weekend in Oakland

or how I found myself with wet pants three days in a row.

Thursday I left work an hour early and arrived home at 3:30pm. I took Anzac to the Vet's/Boarding Kennel, and then we were off to Oakland for the Memorial Day weekend. For those not familiar with US geography Oakland is about 10 miles from the city of San Francisco, and about 385 miles from our house. That's about the same as driving from Melbourne (in Victoria, Australia) to Canberra (the ACT), or from London to Edinburgh. We managed to get away a little after 4pm and with a couple of stops for food and gas we arrived in Oakland shortly before midnight. Not a bad run, really.

Friday we slept in, sort of, then joined Liz's cousin Emma at her parents' flat before heading on to the San Francisco Zoo. Somehow we piled Liz's cousin, her hubby Steve, and their two little ones into our Highlander with the four of us. Lucky we have a collapsible third row in which to stuff three of the kids. We finished the day by celebrating Emma's parents' 50th Wedding Anniversary at a local Chinese Restaurant. We'd originally booked a private room but when we realized there was no way the 20+ people who were coming would sit comfortably around the large table (and it was a pretty big table), we moved out into the restaurant's public dining area and secured two large tables for everyone. While in the private room I'd had my daughter sitting on my lap, and when we got up to move I discovered the leg of my jeans was almost soaked through...right where A. had been sitting. Yup. In sort of toilet training her we've become a little lax on the diaper changes, and A's diaper had reached its absorption capacity.

After dinner Steve and his FIL took the BART home while the rest of us somehow piled in to our SUV. We were fortunate that the local Garbologists were doing their rounds at that moment, because they blocked the lane beside us allowing us to stand in that lane while we packed everyone in to our SUV. Liz, myself, our two little ones, Emma, her two little ones, her mom, and an old friend from Shanghai. That's 9 people (5 adults and 4 kiddies six & under) ...in a 7-seater SUV. I don't know how we did it either. Or why we did it. But we did, and we got everyone home safe & sound.

Saturday found us visiting the SF 6 Flags, a roller coaster amusement park...which also includes a mini zoo and aquarium, so it was actually an appropriate place to take the kids even if we never rode the roller coasters. Afterwards we went for dinner at California Pizza Kitchen and right at the end of the meal, as we were packing up our left-over food, Steve knocked over one of the glasses of water Californian waiters feel compelled to bring for everyone and ice-water ran across the table, missed their daughter (who was asleep in her stroller) and ran off the table beside her, right in my lap. I looked down at my left hip and made the observation that I'd just finished two days in a row with wet pants, but at least tonight it was just water.

Sunday we decided to take it easy and we all kicked back at Emma's parents' flat. Lucky her parents had flown off somewhere that morning so we only had 8 people in a 1 bedroom flat. Then it was decided we'd take the kids to a nearby park, it wasn't until I was standing at the elevator that I realized the "we" was Steve and myself. Liz and Emma were staying back in the flat.

The "park" Steve had picked out turned out to be a wilderness park, for hiking, fishing, swimming, etc, but not a decent place for four kids 6 & under to spend the afternoon. Lucky the Ranger directed us back down the road to a park with a playground where we spent the next couple of hours playing, swinging, watching the kids and eating ice cream when the Ice Cream Truck drove by.

When the wind began to pick up and the temperature began to drop, we called it a day, loaded the kids into our car and headed back to the flat to find lots of yummy food in various states of preparedness. The girls had taken care of the bbq ribs, but a kindly old neighbor had also prepared a lot of yummy, traditional Shanghainese-style food. I made myself a cocktail with a lime/tequila drink mixed with Sierra Mist (it was actually quite good) and kicked back on the sofa while the four kids fought all around me. Then Emma's son (the younger of her two) climbed onto the sofa and launched himself at me like he'd been doing most of the weekend. My drink splashed up in the air and came down right in my lap...on my left hip to be precise, in exactly the same place as the water from the night before and the diaper runoff from the night before that. Lucky it wasn't too much of a mess so we got everyone dried up, I poured myself another drink, settled back down on the sofa...and Emma's youngest launched himself at me once more with identical results. This time his older sister was standing right next to me so most of my second drink ended up in her hair. Phew! Emma didn't seem to amused by this though...not sure why.

Dinner, once we finally all settled down, was an uneventful affair, and before too long we were saying our goodbyes and heading back to our hotel. We were planning to get away early so this was our last visit with Emma, Steve and their little ones, this time around at least. After a leisurely Burger King (Hungry Jack's) breakfast JE and I made several trips to the car and finally we were off on our way back home. The trip back went fairly smoothly and we did the run in less than 7 hours. No wonder we almost always need vacation to recover from our vacations, even the short, 4-day ones.

The elusive $2 bill

I got a couple of $2 bills the other day. Rather rare to get these in the U.S. because even though the Federal Reserve claims there are at least 500 million in circulation, most people who receive them tend to hoard them, thinking they're "worth something", and they are, each $2 bill is worth $2. Wow!

I've had a few pass through my hands in the years that I've been here, but I was planning to give these two to the kids until I noticed someone had used a Where's George.com stamp on them, which was rather annoying. Until I discovered that some members of the Where's George crew are actually trying to increase the number of actively circulated $2 bills (something of which I approve) by specifically requesting them from their banks, even going so far as to order them by the Strap (100 notes) or Brick (1,000 notes). Then they stamp them with the Where's George stamp which, in most people's eyes, renders them worthless as collectibles and practically forces future recipients to spend them rather than hoard them.

I was also made aware of a flawed observation of mine that U.S. cash register drawers are not set up to cater to the $2 bill when in fact they are, the drawers are just misused. Because the $2 is rarely seen most cashiers place their $20, $10, & $5 bills in the slot to the right of their intended slot, with the $5 bill occupying the slot meant for the $2 bills. This leaves an empty slot on the left which is then used for checks and coin rolls, or $50 bills which are more commonly used than the $2. I'm not sure how cashiers would handle the change and their register drawers if they began encountering $2 bills on a regular basis.

Actually that's a project (if you live in the States) that you could take on yourself, if you've got a bit of a rebellious streak in you ;) If you frequently purchase your lunch or make some other small, everyday transaction like buying your morning cup of coffee, you could order a Strap of $2 bills from your bank and use them to buy your lunch or coffee instead.

It could even be rather chaotic, initially. Imagine going to Quizno's or Subway where you place your order, they make your sandwich, and then you offer to pay for it...with $2 bills. Most cashiers should be familiar with the $2, but you just might run into someone who hasn't seen them before, and they just might be accompanied by a pimply-faced, squeaky-voiced Shift Manager who also has never seen a $2 bill. And because you're in Quizno's or Subway's your sandwich is already sitting in front of you, so you just need to pay for it. You have your Debit Card on you but they can't force you to use that. In fact you're willing to pay for your lunch, just with disturbingly new, sequentially numbered $2 bills, so the Cashier and Shift Manager have a few choices: they can grudgingly accept the notes (unlikely if they think they're fake); they can ask you for a different method of payment, a request you'll refuse so they'll ask you to leave (possible); they can give you your sandwich for free (doubtful...just yet).

The Shift Manager could also call the cops, but if they do that Store Policy will also require them to call the Store Manager or Regional Manager to report that they've called the cops. When they do that they'll inform the Store Manager or Regional Manager that they've called the cops on a customer who was attempting to pay for his or her meal with several $2 bills, and then they'll get strangely quiet, and go very red, and after they hang up they'll be very apologetic and now there's a chance you'll get today's lunch for free, maybe with chips and a soda thrown in.

The cafeteria at my office is like that. I order the food, the cooks make my food, I take my food to the cashier and pay for it. I could imagine them looking at me funny if I suddenly produce three $2 bills to pay for my lunch, although with the number of customers they serve each day I'd be surprised if they're not familiar with this "rare" bill.

Now when other customers see you using "rare" $2 bills they might think you're crazy to spend them, or even try to buy them from you. Whatever you do, don't sell them for less than $2 each :D But definitely let anyone who asks know that they, too, can order them by the Strap from their bank, especially if they want sequentially numbered bills. They might just do that in order to get uncirculated bills, and then they'll have 100 $2 bills of which they only want to save, at most, $20 worth. You've just recruited them to the cause, because now they'll spend the other $180, and that will get people talking to them about the $2 bill.

It's Fight Club's "Project Mayhem", only a more civilized, less destructive version ;)

A Plumber at 4:30am?

Stumbling in to the bathroom at 4:30 this morning (and boy am I glad I got straight up without hitting snooze several times) I stood on the bathroom mat and immediately had wet feet. Not good. But that's what I get for not checking my handiwork the night before.

Last night I'd replaced the flapper valve and refill/flusher unit in our toilet tank, and hand-tightened the plastic nuts as per the directions, but when you're dealing with plumbing "hand-tight" is rarely tight enough.

Downstairs to the garage I went, got my multigrips, returned to our bathroom, and slowly and carefully tightened the nut connecting the water main to the tank. Then just to be sure I also tightened the nut underneath that holds the refill unit in place.

When I checked water was still slowly leaking out, very slowly, so I tightened the nut a bit more, wiped the hose and again checked for leaks, then tightened the nut a bit more, and so on. It was a slow process that took close to half an hour but eventually I was confident the water had stopped leaking, or at least confident enough to get in the shower. I think everything is good now, but I won't know for sure until tonight when I can check it out over a longer period of time.

Imagine if I'd really needed a Plumber at 4:30 in the morning, instead of being one.

The Longest Night

Saturday JE and I camped out overnight with the Boy Scouts at a local park in the foothills. Apparently the park is fenced in so you're safe from bears and other predatory nasties.

The camp's activities were supposed to commence at 3pm with a 2pm "check-in" time when you'd set up your tent, etc., but with people turning up late the activities started late and the campfire ceremony started late, so it naturally finished late which meant JE and I crawled in to our tent a little before 10:00pm. Not too bad for a Saturday night, except our Saturday nights don't normally find us camping out under the stars (protected by a layer of canvas or nylon) surrounded by young boys playing Uno and adults chatting away. I figured I'd let people play and chat until 10:30 before calling out a reminder that there were other people trying to get to sleep, but I didn't need to. The kids playing Uno were playing in the tent belonging to the talking adults, and the adults called it a night and kicked the kids out and back to their own tents before I needed to enforce my authority (assuming I had any).

Finally quiet reigned and I was able to relax and try to get comfortable enough to fall asleep on half an inch of high-density foam, which is rather hard to do in normal times (is it ever normal to try to sleep on 1/2" of high-density foam) but I've also come down with a nasty sinus cold which only compounded matters. Fortunately I'd come prepared (like all good Boy Scouts and Scout Leaders) with a supply of Sudafed and I'd taken one when we'd first crawled into our sleeping bags so I think that helped me sleep for the first few hours.

Around 2am I awoke and looked at my watch and almost shuddered at the thought of how long it still was until morning. It's not unusual for me to wake several times during the night, but I don't usually wake up with a pain in my right hip from sleeping (practically) on the hard ground. The cold was not an issue, I didn't feel cold at all, but 1/2" of foam does not provide much padding at all. I rolled over on to my left side and tried to find even a small depression to get my left hip in to. I succeeded, somewhat, and drifted off to sleep, for maybe 45 minutes. Woke up to a pain in my left hip, rolled over on to my right side and remembered that hip hurt, too. Lay on my back but it was both comfortable, and uncomfortable. It was some comfort for my hips, but not comfortable enough to sleep, just yet.

Sleep that night was nothing but a series of 30 mins naps until 5:30am when dawn broke and even though the sun didn't penetrate the layer of cloud, the sun's light still did, and light nylon is no protection against sunlight, not even the ambient variety. First came the footsteps, then the voices, and I looked at my watch to see what ungodly hour it was, then looked at JE and noticed he was awake. For the next 20 minutes I attempted to convince him to go back to sleep to no avail. I knew what he had in store for the rest of the day, but so did he; two birthday parties, and a piano recital awards ceremony and there was no way he was going back to sleep, even though he could have used the rest.

Reluctantly I let him get up and we got dressed and joined the other early morning risers. I honestly don't know how we made it through the rest of the day without a nap, but here we are, finally, at the end of a very busy weekend. Thank God I've got work tomorrow!