We're about 15 hours away from flying back to L.A.
We're currently at my sister's house in Melbourne and in a short while will be heading to a local Fish & Chip shop for our last genuine Australian meal. Sure, you can get Fish & Chips in most countries, but every country has their own version so it's not the same as what you get at home.
The time has gone by so fast and we didn't do anywhere near as much as I would have liked, never visited some of the people I wanted to. There's an old friend I never caught up with, and I regret that.
We get back to LAX Monday morning and I'll be back at work the next day. Two weeks vacation gone by, just like that.
See you all on the east side of the Pond.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
So far, so good
We spent the first night in Traralgon and the next morning headed out to Munro where Mum's fiance lives. The kids had a great time there, JE rode Keith's 3-wheeled motorscooter up and down the road out the front of his property while the Bunny took a turn sitting on the ponies out the back (pictures to come). There was numerous wildlife around, deer in the paddock up the road, lots of birds, including some cockatoos that are considering nesting in a tree at the bottom of Keith's backyard. Glenn, Keith's son, took us for a drive in his truck up through the forest, roo spotting, although we only got a good sighting of one wallaby as we rounded one bend and pretty much nothing else. Glenn took us to a couple of graves buried deep within the forest, discovered by the Rangers who have set up a memorial around it. Apparently they belong to mother and her son who were killed in a flood over 150 years ago. They were members of one of the first families to settle in the Gippsland region, and like many early pioneers paid the ultimate price in taming the land for those to follow.
Friday we headed back into Traralgon, briefly, before continuing back on to Melbourne to stay with my older sister and her family. We visited the Melbourne Aquarium, the Zoo, did a spot of shopping in the City, and while waiting for our train at the Southern Cross Station (formerly Spencer St.) got caught in a football crowd getting out of the Essendon Bombers & Western Bulldogs game. It was quite an experience for Liz, standing on the platform surrounded by a sea of people in Red & Black, and Red, White & Blue jumpers, scarves, hats, etc. Of course when the train arrived everyone boarded, so we were packed in and standing up for about half our ride back to my sister's house.
After a few days we headed back down to Traralgon. I drove down with the Bunny taking a nap, while everyone else rode the train down, taking in the sights.
Now Liz's parents are in town as well. The FIL is here sort of looking after the kids, while the MIL is down the street with Liz and my sisters, shopping, getting their hair done, nails, eyebrows, etc., all in preparation for the big day this Saturday.
Friday we headed back into Traralgon, briefly, before continuing back on to Melbourne to stay with my older sister and her family. We visited the Melbourne Aquarium, the Zoo, did a spot of shopping in the City, and while waiting for our train at the Southern Cross Station (formerly Spencer St.) got caught in a football crowd getting out of the Essendon Bombers & Western Bulldogs game. It was quite an experience for Liz, standing on the platform surrounded by a sea of people in Red & Black, and Red, White & Blue jumpers, scarves, hats, etc. Of course when the train arrived everyone boarded, so we were packed in and standing up for about half our ride back to my sister's house.
After a few days we headed back down to Traralgon. I drove down with the Bunny taking a nap, while everyone else rode the train down, taking in the sights.
Now Liz's parents are in town as well. The FIL is here sort of looking after the kids, while the MIL is down the street with Liz and my sisters, shopping, getting their hair done, nails, eyebrows, etc., all in preparation for the big day this Saturday.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Almost 20 hours later
and here we are.
The shuttle picked us up around 6:45pm and got us to LAX within 30 minutes, pretty good time, I thought, for a flight scheduled to leave around 11:40pm, 4 hours later. 11:15pm came and we hadn't yet begun boarding the plane, something to do with the Jetway at that gate. Finally the plane was towed out and back in to another gate where we were able to board, but we never made it off the ground. The take-off was aborted and we returned to the gate so an engineer could examine our plane. Over 3 hours later than scheduled we finally took off and were on our way to Australia.
We were met by my older sister, my Mum, and my future stepfather, who took us to my sister's for a lunch we'd been waiting 2 years for. Fish & Chips :)
We relaxed for an hour or so after lunch, then piled in the car and headed out to the Latrobe Valley and Mum's home. Practically a 2 hours drive on top of our 14 1/2 plane ride (not counting the 3+ hours delay). We managed to get a spot of sleep on the plane, but not much more than a couple of hours, so now we are pretty much running on empty, and just trying to hang on to a decent hour to go to bed so our body clocks adjust to Aussie Time.
The shuttle picked us up around 6:45pm and got us to LAX within 30 minutes, pretty good time, I thought, for a flight scheduled to leave around 11:40pm, 4 hours later. 11:15pm came and we hadn't yet begun boarding the plane, something to do with the Jetway at that gate. Finally the plane was towed out and back in to another gate where we were able to board, but we never made it off the ground. The take-off was aborted and we returned to the gate so an engineer could examine our plane. Over 3 hours later than scheduled we finally took off and were on our way to Australia.
We were met by my older sister, my Mum, and my future stepfather, who took us to my sister's for a lunch we'd been waiting 2 years for. Fish & Chips :)
We relaxed for an hour or so after lunch, then piled in the car and headed out to the Latrobe Valley and Mum's home. Practically a 2 hours drive on top of our 14 1/2 plane ride (not counting the 3+ hours delay). We managed to get a spot of sleep on the plane, but not much more than a couple of hours, so now we are pretty much running on empty, and just trying to hang on to a decent hour to go to bed so our body clocks adjust to Aussie Time.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Life is like eating an elephant
I have a very good friend in hospital, I'm leaving for Australia next weekend, I'm working OT every day and have been for the past 2 1/2 weeks, and my Mum is getting married in 3 weeks time. Sometimes the only way to get through life is one bite at a time, which is also the same way you eat an elephant.
I got that 1,000 marbles email the other day. About the fellow who figured out that based on average life-expectancy he had about 1,000 Saturdays left to spend with his family, so he bought every marble he could find in three Toy Stores to get 1,000 marbles, which he kept in a jar and took one out every Saturday. As the level of marbles slowly decreased he said it helped him focus more on what was important in his life.
My father's parents both passed away when I was fairly young. I don't recall if they made it in to their 70s but I don't think they did. My father passed away at 62 years of age. My Mum's father died when she was still young but that may have been an accidental death rather than an illness (I honestly don't know). Of course my paternal grandfather was an alcoholic and had suffered from Alzheimer's before I knew him. My paternal grandmother was a habitual smoker until her final years. My own father had numerous things going on with him and we're still not sure exactly what was the cause of death, but there were several to choose from.
I didn't mention that I turn 38 in two weeks times. Two times 38 is 76. Seventy-six. If I make it to seventy-six years old I'll have had a good innings. If I make it to my eighties, I'll consider that a bloody miracle. Like my dad I've had my brushes with death over the years. At least three that I can recall where Death probably glanced my way and said, "NOT HIM, NOT YET."
In 38 years time my son will be 45 and my daughter 40 (Good Lord!), and if they bless me with grandchildren (Oh, revenge! Sweet, sweet revenge! >:) they'll possibly be in their teens.
Thirty-eight years. Fifty-two Saturdays per year. That's one thousand, nine hundred, and seventy-six Saturdays. And if I manage to empty that jar of marbles and I wake up the next day, that's a bonus; that's one more day I've been given to spend with my family.
*EDIT - I looked at my father's memoir and saw both his parents lived well into their 80s, despite alcoholism and smoking like chimneys, so this old dog might have a few years in him yet ;)
I got that 1,000 marbles email the other day. About the fellow who figured out that based on average life-expectancy he had about 1,000 Saturdays left to spend with his family, so he bought every marble he could find in three Toy Stores to get 1,000 marbles, which he kept in a jar and took one out every Saturday. As the level of marbles slowly decreased he said it helped him focus more on what was important in his life.
My father's parents both passed away when I was fairly young. I don't recall if they made it in to their 70s but I don't think they did. My father passed away at 62 years of age. My Mum's father died when she was still young but that may have been an accidental death rather than an illness (I honestly don't know). Of course my paternal grandfather was an alcoholic and had suffered from Alzheimer's before I knew him. My paternal grandmother was a habitual smoker until her final years. My own father had numerous things going on with him and we're still not sure exactly what was the cause of death, but there were several to choose from.
I didn't mention that I turn 38 in two weeks times. Two times 38 is 76. Seventy-six. If I make it to seventy-six years old I'll have had a good innings. If I make it to my eighties, I'll consider that a bloody miracle. Like my dad I've had my brushes with death over the years. At least three that I can recall where Death probably glanced my way and said, "NOT HIM, NOT YET."
In 38 years time my son will be 45 and my daughter 40 (Good Lord!), and if they bless me with grandchildren (Oh, revenge! Sweet, sweet revenge! >:) they'll possibly be in their teens.
Thirty-eight years. Fifty-two Saturdays per year. That's one thousand, nine hundred, and seventy-six Saturdays. And if I manage to empty that jar of marbles and I wake up the next day, that's a bonus; that's one more day I've been given to spend with my family.
*EDIT - I looked at my father's memoir and saw both his parents lived well into their 80s, despite alcoholism and smoking like chimneys, so this old dog might have a few years in him yet ;)
Thursday, August 09, 2007
A tacky act for a sick kitty?
This afternoon one of the ladies at work, through one of the guys, sent out an email asking for help with a stray kitty she took in. Kitty has a skin disorder of some kind, and the Vet has told her it will cost about $500 to treat it, so the email asked for monetary contributions to help the lady pay for kitty's treatment.
You take in a stray kitty then ask your coworkers for help to pay for medical treatment? I thought about it for just long enough to hit Delete, then promptly put it out of my mind.
Then a folder arrived on my desk, with a picture of the kitty and a reprint of the email. This is the preferred method in our office of passing around a card (birthday, retirement, etc) with a collection envelope to raise funds for a gift for said birthday, retirement, etc.
The lady who brought me the folder asked if I'd seen it.
Aah, yeah, I've seen it, I said. I meant I'd seen the email, but I didn't care that my reply was misinterpreted, and the lady took the folder away. What I forgot was that normally a list accompanies these folders, a list of everyone's name, and before you pass on the folder you check off your name so the next poor sap to get the folder can pick a victim to keep the folder moving.
So the folder arrived back at my desk. This time I knew better, and I checked off my name before looking down the list for my victim. Aah, here was a name of someone who was still in the office and hadn't left for the day.
I took the folder around to this lady and handed it over, but I just couldn't contain the evilness within me that sometimes materializes as a dark, macabre sense of humor.
"She's raising money to have the kitty put down," I said, winking at my victim. She looked at me and gasped, but she has a wicked sense of humor, too, so she knew I was joking and found it funny in a dark, macabre, totally inappropriate way. "It's cheaper than the operation," I added, and we both shared an "Oooohhh," moment as I left her with the folder, and the list, and the envelope full of money, and her conscience.
Now before you say to me, "John, you've got a dog. What if he needed an operation? Wouldn't you ask your coworkers for money to pay for it?"
No, I would not.
I'd either find the money, or I'd have him put down. And if the Vet is incredulous that this is a simple, relatively inexpensive operation, but I'm choosing to have the animal put down instead, it's this simple. It's a dog. It's a pet. It's family, but not quite, and I'm not spending money on an operation our family can't afford, just for a pet. I'd sell everything necessary if my wife or kids needed an operation, but this is a pet we're talking about. And yes, I would hit up my coworkers for money for a life saving operation for my wife or kids, but not for a pet.
I had no issue with the woman sending out the email asking for help. It was a simple matter to hit Delete. But I had serious issues with her then passing around a collection envelope because it was obvious nobody cared enough about her stray pet cat to come by and give her money.
So when I said putting the kitty down was cheaper than the operation, I wasn't quite joking. Sometimes you have to weigh up your alternatives and say, yes, this is a tough decision, but when the alternative means going in to debt, and possibly losing my car or my house, that's not an alternative at all.
You take in a stray kitty then ask your coworkers for help to pay for medical treatment? I thought about it for just long enough to hit Delete, then promptly put it out of my mind.
Then a folder arrived on my desk, with a picture of the kitty and a reprint of the email. This is the preferred method in our office of passing around a card (birthday, retirement, etc) with a collection envelope to raise funds for a gift for said birthday, retirement, etc.
The lady who brought me the folder asked if I'd seen it.
Aah, yeah, I've seen it, I said. I meant I'd seen the email, but I didn't care that my reply was misinterpreted, and the lady took the folder away. What I forgot was that normally a list accompanies these folders, a list of everyone's name, and before you pass on the folder you check off your name so the next poor sap to get the folder can pick a victim to keep the folder moving.
So the folder arrived back at my desk. This time I knew better, and I checked off my name before looking down the list for my victim. Aah, here was a name of someone who was still in the office and hadn't left for the day.
I took the folder around to this lady and handed it over, but I just couldn't contain the evilness within me that sometimes materializes as a dark, macabre sense of humor.
"She's raising money to have the kitty put down," I said, winking at my victim. She looked at me and gasped, but she has a wicked sense of humor, too, so she knew I was joking and found it funny in a dark, macabre, totally inappropriate way. "It's cheaper than the operation," I added, and we both shared an "Oooohhh," moment as I left her with the folder, and the list, and the envelope full of money, and her conscience.
Now before you say to me, "John, you've got a dog. What if he needed an operation? Wouldn't you ask your coworkers for money to pay for it?"
No, I would not.
I'd either find the money, or I'd have him put down. And if the Vet is incredulous that this is a simple, relatively inexpensive operation, but I'm choosing to have the animal put down instead, it's this simple. It's a dog. It's a pet. It's family, but not quite, and I'm not spending money on an operation our family can't afford, just for a pet. I'd sell everything necessary if my wife or kids needed an operation, but this is a pet we're talking about. And yes, I would hit up my coworkers for money for a life saving operation for my wife or kids, but not for a pet.
I had no issue with the woman sending out the email asking for help. It was a simple matter to hit Delete. But I had serious issues with her then passing around a collection envelope because it was obvious nobody cared enough about her stray pet cat to come by and give her money.
So when I said putting the kitty down was cheaper than the operation, I wasn't quite joking. Sometimes you have to weigh up your alternatives and say, yes, this is a tough decision, but when the alternative means going in to debt, and possibly losing my car or my house, that's not an alternative at all.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Knott's Berry Farm
Tonight after work we took the kids down to Knott's Berry Farm, and despite it being summer it was relatively empty and the kids were able to practically walk on to most of the rides as soon as they joined the queue. They also played a couple of the games, one had them picking out a plastic duck to win a prize, depending on the number of the bottom of the duck. For $5 they got three picks but they sort of had more than that because as soon as they saw the ducks they were grabbing them all. I handed over $5 and JE promptly showed the guy his duck, which had a #3 on it. Good lad. Amber turned over a #1 but the guy gave her a #2 sized prize because he said she'd turned over two #1 ducks, which she probably had...actually she'd turned over even more than that :D
JE also did the Strong Man challenge where you swing a large mallet and try to make the bell ring. He got an inflatable hammer for his effort and I almost passed out blowing it up for him :}
I rode with the kids on one ride, then Liz took them on the Merry Go Round, and while watching them go around memories came back of a childhood summer spent at Lakes Entrance in Victoria, where my grandparents currently reside. Every summer there is a carnival at Lakes Entrance, and it's also become one of the hot spots to see in the New Year. Or at least it used to be, not sure if it still is. As well as the carnival there was always a huge fireworks show right before midnight and the road along the esplanade would be closed as people lined up to watch the fireworks being set off from a barge in the estuary.
Many years ago one of my uncles was working the lucky ticket booth at the carnival. It was an early version of the lotto scratchies. You bought a ticket and peeled open the cardboard flap, and if the number revealed was one of the lucky numbers on the giant board you won a prize, probably cash. For some reason I have a feeling that my uncle had told my father he'd make sure he won, but the ticket he got was not a winner. I think this made my father mad at my uncle and we didn't go in to the carnival. Being a very young lad with a child's twisted sense of logic I recall thinking that because we hadn't won that meant we couldn't go in. I do remember asking my parents about that but they didn't seem to want to talk about it, which is probably why I think my dad was angry with my uncle.
I don't remember where we went, probably visited a few of the stores along the esplanade, but on our way back we did stop and spend some time at the carnival. Admission was free, you just paid for the rides and sideshow games. You actually bought a sheet of tickets for the rides and just tore off what you needed for that particular ride. I remember that we had some tickets left over at the end of the night, and before we left my parents gave the remaining tickets to another man for his family. I do the same thing myself now, although I think the actual physical tickets are getting phased out. The OC Fair had signs saying "This ride X tickets", etc, but they were actually credits on a magnetic card that you swiped each time you entered a ride, and when you ran out of "tickets" or credits you just recharged the card at the "ticket" booth.
Back to the past and the Lakes Entrance carnival. I had a turn on a Merry Go Round, but this one was a rather strange Merry Go Round. Instead of animals it had bicycles that you pedaled as the Merry Go Round turned. The lower platform was fixed in place and the bikes' wheels would actually turn as you rode around. Before the ride began I remember pushing on the pedals with all my might and I recall the Merry Go Round turning a little bit. My father also took a turn at the shooting gallery with the air rifles (BB guns). They were real working air rifles that you don't see these days for all sorts of legality issues, but back then you paid your $2 and got 4 pellets and you had to knock over 4 metal ducks to win a prize. 3 didn't cut it, you had to make every shot count. Being a more than decent shot my father was able to win a couple of prizes at the shooting gallery, and when I was older I followed in his food steps and the shooting gallery was always a guaranteed prize-winner for me. It's also a macho thing among guys visiting the carnival together, or maybe just with country boys where shooting comes as natural as breathing; if your mates can knock over 4 ducks you better be able to as well, or you can expect to get teased for the rest of the night ;)
So my memories of my childhood carnivals are mostly good, and I hope tonight's trip to Knott's will be remembered equally as fondly by my two children, even if remembering that carnival from yesteryear did make me a little melancholy.
JE also did the Strong Man challenge where you swing a large mallet and try to make the bell ring. He got an inflatable hammer for his effort and I almost passed out blowing it up for him :}
I rode with the kids on one ride, then Liz took them on the Merry Go Round, and while watching them go around memories came back of a childhood summer spent at Lakes Entrance in Victoria, where my grandparents currently reside. Every summer there is a carnival at Lakes Entrance, and it's also become one of the hot spots to see in the New Year. Or at least it used to be, not sure if it still is. As well as the carnival there was always a huge fireworks show right before midnight and the road along the esplanade would be closed as people lined up to watch the fireworks being set off from a barge in the estuary.
Many years ago one of my uncles was working the lucky ticket booth at the carnival. It was an early version of the lotto scratchies. You bought a ticket and peeled open the cardboard flap, and if the number revealed was one of the lucky numbers on the giant board you won a prize, probably cash. For some reason I have a feeling that my uncle had told my father he'd make sure he won, but the ticket he got was not a winner. I think this made my father mad at my uncle and we didn't go in to the carnival. Being a very young lad with a child's twisted sense of logic I recall thinking that because we hadn't won that meant we couldn't go in. I do remember asking my parents about that but they didn't seem to want to talk about it, which is probably why I think my dad was angry with my uncle.
I don't remember where we went, probably visited a few of the stores along the esplanade, but on our way back we did stop and spend some time at the carnival. Admission was free, you just paid for the rides and sideshow games. You actually bought a sheet of tickets for the rides and just tore off what you needed for that particular ride. I remember that we had some tickets left over at the end of the night, and before we left my parents gave the remaining tickets to another man for his family. I do the same thing myself now, although I think the actual physical tickets are getting phased out. The OC Fair had signs saying "This ride X tickets", etc, but they were actually credits on a magnetic card that you swiped each time you entered a ride, and when you ran out of "tickets" or credits you just recharged the card at the "ticket" booth.
Back to the past and the Lakes Entrance carnival. I had a turn on a Merry Go Round, but this one was a rather strange Merry Go Round. Instead of animals it had bicycles that you pedaled as the Merry Go Round turned. The lower platform was fixed in place and the bikes' wheels would actually turn as you rode around. Before the ride began I remember pushing on the pedals with all my might and I recall the Merry Go Round turning a little bit. My father also took a turn at the shooting gallery with the air rifles (BB guns). They were real working air rifles that you don't see these days for all sorts of legality issues, but back then you paid your $2 and got 4 pellets and you had to knock over 4 metal ducks to win a prize. 3 didn't cut it, you had to make every shot count. Being a more than decent shot my father was able to win a couple of prizes at the shooting gallery, and when I was older I followed in his food steps and the shooting gallery was always a guaranteed prize-winner for me. It's also a macho thing among guys visiting the carnival together, or maybe just with country boys where shooting comes as natural as breathing; if your mates can knock over 4 ducks you better be able to as well, or you can expect to get teased for the rest of the night ;)
So my memories of my childhood carnivals are mostly good, and I hope tonight's trip to Knott's will be remembered equally as fondly by my two children, even if remembering that carnival from yesteryear did make me a little melancholy.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Something strange...in your neighborhood
Last week Liz came to bed around 2am or so and woke me up looking for her book. She likes to read before going to sleep but her book could not be found and after a brief but thorough search (meaning I was kicked out of bed to help look) Liz reluctantly retired without reading. Over the next couple of days, when we had a spare moment, we looked for the book. I even lay down on the floor and looked under the bed and under the bedside tables, but the book could not be found. Strange.
A couple of nights ago I was woken up by a tap on my shoulder, so I rolled over and asked Liz what she wanted. With her head buried in a new book Liz didn't reply. Grumpy from being woken up at 2am and pissed off that Liz had promptly gone back to reading her new book I got a little snappy. Finally Liz responded and denied tapping me on the shoulder. Grrr. It's a good thing I can go straight back to sleep when I want to, because I did just that. But I was sure she'd tapped me on the shoulder.
Last night Liz came to bed and showed me her old book. It had been lying on the floor under her bedside table, where we'd both looked several times and somehow failed to see it. Liz said it was actually standing up on one edge, not lying flat. So somehow both of us failed to see a very obvious book standing up on one edge, several times.
But then things in our house have a habit of disappearing for a day or two, then reappearing in quite obvious spots as if they've been lying there all along and we've just somehow failed to see them. We would joke that it was a ghost hiding them. With the disappearance of the book last week, and it's reappearance in a spot where it's impossible to have overlooked it, the ghost explanation may be closer to the truth than we thought. Then again, we also have two young kids ;)
A couple of nights ago I was woken up by a tap on my shoulder, so I rolled over and asked Liz what she wanted. With her head buried in a new book Liz didn't reply. Grumpy from being woken up at 2am and pissed off that Liz had promptly gone back to reading her new book I got a little snappy. Finally Liz responded and denied tapping me on the shoulder. Grrr. It's a good thing I can go straight back to sleep when I want to, because I did just that. But I was sure she'd tapped me on the shoulder.
Last night Liz came to bed and showed me her old book. It had been lying on the floor under her bedside table, where we'd both looked several times and somehow failed to see it. Liz said it was actually standing up on one edge, not lying flat. So somehow both of us failed to see a very obvious book standing up on one edge, several times.
But then things in our house have a habit of disappearing for a day or two, then reappearing in quite obvious spots as if they've been lying there all along and we've just somehow failed to see them. We would joke that it was a ghost hiding them. With the disappearance of the book last week, and it's reappearance in a spot where it's impossible to have overlooked it, the ghost explanation may be closer to the truth than we thought. Then again, we also have two young kids ;)
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Something in the air?
I took JE to watch The Simpson's movie Saturday morning, and after dropping him with the in-laws, Liz and I decided to call Xinh to see if she wanted to see The Bourne Ultimatum Sunday morning. I got her voicemail so I left a msg asking if she wanted to watch the movie with us, unless she wasn't feeling well. I don't know why I said that.
Shortly after leaving the message my phone rang. It was Xinh. She didn't sound well. She was calling from hospital. After having abdominal pains Monday she'd gone home but she wasn't better on Tuesday, so she called her doctor who had called in sick as well. Wednesday, feeling even worse, she went in to ER and stayed there almost all day without being seen. Late in the evening someone who'd been there several hours prior to her also hadn't been seen, so Xinh went home and returned the next day. Finally she was examined and checked in under suspicion of appendicitis. She signed a form for a laparoscopic appendectomy with the option to open her up in case they found something more serious, which they did. They found a perforated intestine and an abscess the size of a cantaloupe, which is not a small fruit.
Liz and I pretty much canceled any plans and headed off to the hospital. Xinh was recovering ok but had not been able to rest because she couldn't get in to a comfortable position and the nurses hadn't been willing to go through the rigmarole Xinh felt was required to get her into a comfortable position. After raising and lowering Xinh's bed a few times, rolling her back and forth a couple of times, sliding pillows under various parts of her anatomy (I'm a good friend, but Liz took care of that assignment), we finally got Xinh into a position in which she felt comfortable.
With the battery in her cell phone running low, and it being Xinh's only contact to the outside world, we called her friend Natey (who'd already taken Xinh's dog to the kennel) and he stopped by her apartment and picked up her charger and came in. Another friend, Susan, also stopped by, and with four of us there now (five including Xinh) Liz and I decided to take our leave.
I couldn't resist snapping a picture of the room next to Xinh's. She's staying on the 6th floor of the hospital, and the room next to her we felt should have gone the same way of the 13th floor in most buildings.
Yup, that's the room next to Xinh's room at the hospital >:)
Notice how blurry it is? It's like it didn't want me taking its picture ;)
Shortly after leaving the message my phone rang. It was Xinh. She didn't sound well. She was calling from hospital. After having abdominal pains Monday she'd gone home but she wasn't better on Tuesday, so she called her doctor who had called in sick as well. Wednesday, feeling even worse, she went in to ER and stayed there almost all day without being seen. Late in the evening someone who'd been there several hours prior to her also hadn't been seen, so Xinh went home and returned the next day. Finally she was examined and checked in under suspicion of appendicitis. She signed a form for a laparoscopic appendectomy with the option to open her up in case they found something more serious, which they did. They found a perforated intestine and an abscess the size of a cantaloupe, which is not a small fruit.
Liz and I pretty much canceled any plans and headed off to the hospital. Xinh was recovering ok but had not been able to rest because she couldn't get in to a comfortable position and the nurses hadn't been willing to go through the rigmarole Xinh felt was required to get her into a comfortable position. After raising and lowering Xinh's bed a few times, rolling her back and forth a couple of times, sliding pillows under various parts of her anatomy (I'm a good friend, but Liz took care of that assignment), we finally got Xinh into a position in which she felt comfortable.
With the battery in her cell phone running low, and it being Xinh's only contact to the outside world, we called her friend Natey (who'd already taken Xinh's dog to the kennel) and he stopped by her apartment and picked up her charger and came in. Another friend, Susan, also stopped by, and with four of us there now (five including Xinh) Liz and I decided to take our leave.
I couldn't resist snapping a picture of the room next to Xinh's. She's staying on the 6th floor of the hospital, and the room next to her we felt should have gone the same way of the 13th floor in most buildings.
Yup, that's the room next to Xinh's room at the hospital >:)
Notice how blurry it is? It's like it didn't want me taking its picture ;)
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Buying a Kilt, pt II
Dr. Nicholas Fiddes has written an excellent guide to buying a Kilt, and it explains a lot about Kilts, tartans, the naming of such, and so on. Very useful information, and he's actually made his 58-page book(let) available online, free of charge, in Adobe's PDF formart. You can get it here, if you're interested.
And if you'd like to do a search of your own family name, to see if you happen to have a family/clan tartan, the Scottish Tartan Authority has an excellent tartan search site here.
Considering I want a good Kilt in the Fraser tartan, and an order for a good kilt in a select design can sometimes take a couple of months to be filled, I don't think I'll be wearing a Kilt at Mum's wedding. Not sure Mum, or my sisters for that matter, would have been willing to let me do so without a fight, anyway. It might have appeared a little disruptive.
But that's not stopped my desire for one...even if I do only wear it once or twice a year. Considering St. Andrew's Day (the patron Saint of Scotland) is November 30, if I did special order a Fraser Kilt I would have it in time to wear to work for St. Andrew's Day. That would be rather brave of me, I think.
Oh, except looking at my calendar, November 30 falls on a Friday this year, and that Friday just happens to be my Rostered Day Off. No Kilt for St. Andrew's Day this year. I might still send out an office-wide email on Thursday, November 29 telling everyone to remember to wear their family's tartan for St. Andrew's Day ;)
And if you'd like to do a search of your own family name, to see if you happen to have a family/clan tartan, the Scottish Tartan Authority has an excellent tartan search site here.
Considering I want a good Kilt in the Fraser tartan, and an order for a good kilt in a select design can sometimes take a couple of months to be filled, I don't think I'll be wearing a Kilt at Mum's wedding. Not sure Mum, or my sisters for that matter, would have been willing to let me do so without a fight, anyway. It might have appeared a little disruptive.
But that's not stopped my desire for one...even if I do only wear it once or twice a year. Considering St. Andrew's Day (the patron Saint of Scotland) is November 30, if I did special order a Fraser Kilt I would have it in time to wear to work for St. Andrew's Day. That would be rather brave of me, I think.
Oh, except looking at my calendar, November 30 falls on a Friday this year, and that Friday just happens to be my Rostered Day Off. No Kilt for St. Andrew's Day this year. I might still send out an office-wide email on Thursday, November 29 telling everyone to remember to wear their family's tartan for St. Andrew's Day ;)
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Buying a Kilt
When my English ancestor came to Australia he brought with him a Scottish wife. Being English he had no clan, just a family name, but with his wife being Scottish her family name was also her clan name. As such there's no official tartan for my family, but there is a Fraser tartan, that being my great(x3) Grandmother's clan. While looking up kilts online I found they seem to be rather expensive. I can buy a decent suit for the same price as a single, good quality kilt...and that's just the kilt. That does nae include a sporran or any other kilt accessories.
Of course when I looked up the Fraser tartan I found there's not just the Fraser tartan, there's a Fraser Red Ancient tartan:
and a Fraser Red Modern tartan.
There's a Hunting tartan, a Muted tartan, and a Weathered tartan, and more, to boot, and then in the Fraser name alone, even under the name "Red Modern" there's different tartans yet again.
I have a tie of my father's in the Fraser tartan color, but I believe it's the Ancient Tartan, not the Modern tartan, which I think is the sharper of the two. The question is, do I get a kilt to match my father's tie? Or do I get a kilt in the color that I prefer, being the Modern Red? Considering I'd never wear the tie with the kilt, is it even necessary to match them? Then again, I can just hear my wife saying, "Why do you even need a kilt?"
And if my family name is English, why would I get a Scottish kilt? How important is the Fraser identity to me when that's not my name?
Our Scottish heritage was important to my father, and it being important to him means it's important to me. It was important enough to my father that he purchased a Fraser tartan tie. It was important enough to him that for years he wore a tam o'shanter, although he stopped wearing it when he realized it was no in the Fraser colors, and again that's how important it was to him; as much as he loved his tam he refused to wear one in the wrong colors.
It's probably too late to be getting a kilt now for me mother's wedding, and considering she wants me to walk her down the aisle, if I was going to be wearing a kilt for that auspicious ceremony it could nae just be the kilt; it would have to be the whole kilt & caboodle, including a jacket in the correct cut to accompany a kilt. But I fear that even if I were to don traditional Scottish garb for that occasion, it would take attention away from my mother, and it would also, later, take attention away from my wife, as difficult as that may be considering she looks FUCKING AMAZING! in the dress she finally picked out. And no, you can't see a picture, yet.
So there's no point me looking at kilts at this point in time, but maybe next St. Patrick's Day, at the local Gaelic Festival, I might pick up a Fraser kilt (even though the Festival is Irish and the Frasers are Scottish ;). And yes, as much as you don't want them now, there will be pictures ;)
Of course when I looked up the Fraser tartan I found there's not just the Fraser tartan, there's a Fraser Red Ancient tartan:
and a Fraser Red Modern tartan.
There's a Hunting tartan, a Muted tartan, and a Weathered tartan, and more, to boot, and then in the Fraser name alone, even under the name "Red Modern" there's different tartans yet again.
I have a tie of my father's in the Fraser tartan color, but I believe it's the Ancient Tartan, not the Modern tartan, which I think is the sharper of the two. The question is, do I get a kilt to match my father's tie? Or do I get a kilt in the color that I prefer, being the Modern Red? Considering I'd never wear the tie with the kilt, is it even necessary to match them? Then again, I can just hear my wife saying, "Why do you even need a kilt?"
And if my family name is English, why would I get a Scottish kilt? How important is the Fraser identity to me when that's not my name?
Our Scottish heritage was important to my father, and it being important to him means it's important to me. It was important enough to my father that he purchased a Fraser tartan tie. It was important enough to him that for years he wore a tam o'shanter, although he stopped wearing it when he realized it was no in the Fraser colors, and again that's how important it was to him; as much as he loved his tam he refused to wear one in the wrong colors.
It's probably too late to be getting a kilt now for me mother's wedding, and considering she wants me to walk her down the aisle, if I was going to be wearing a kilt for that auspicious ceremony it could nae just be the kilt; it would have to be the whole kilt & caboodle, including a jacket in the correct cut to accompany a kilt. But I fear that even if I were to don traditional Scottish garb for that occasion, it would take attention away from my mother, and it would also, later, take attention away from my wife, as difficult as that may be considering she looks FUCKING AMAZING! in the dress she finally picked out. And no, you can't see a picture, yet.
So there's no point me looking at kilts at this point in time, but maybe next St. Patrick's Day, at the local Gaelic Festival, I might pick up a Fraser kilt (even though the Festival is Irish and the Frasers are Scottish ;). And yes, as much as you don't want them now, there will be pictures ;)
Monday, July 30, 2007
Ding!!!
Saturday afternoon I finally got off my arse (figuratively speaking, not literally) and ground through the last half a million XP I needed to level my Dwarven Hunter to 70, the highest a character can (currently) go in the World of Warcraft. Being 70 meant I'd earned the right to fly a Gryphon everywhere, instead of stuck riding along the ground on my Battle Ram, and as soon as I could was tearing skywards on my Gryphon, not unlike Superman. Up, up, and away!
Apparently there's a ceiling but I never hit it, although the ground got pretty far away and I could only make out one or two buildings, so back down, down, down I went. The only problem is, and it's probably a gripe among all 70s, is that the lvl 60 Epic Mount runs faster than the lvl 70 Mount can fly. There's an "Epic" Flying Mount but he costs five times as much as the Regular version, although he apparently flies four times faster than the regular Flying Mount, and over twice as fast as the Epic Ground Mount. I go back to Australia in a few weeks time for my Mum's wedding. I wonder if that's enough time for a casual, hardcore gamer like me to accrue 5,000 gold coins? I'll probably end up doing nothing but killing Mobs for hours on end, day after day. Then again, I don't do much more than that in WoW anyway ;)
I know a couple of my Guildmates have the Epic Flying Mount on one of their toons, and with the daunting challenge of farming 5,000g in front of me, I can see why they only have it on one of their toons. A quick Google of "Buy WoW Gold" reveals that 5,000g can be bought for around $400. If I'm lucky, I can grind out that gold at approx. 100g/hour, but more likely we're looking at 80g/hour, or 60+ hours. For $400 that comes out to about $6.50/hour, or slightly more than Minimum Wage. On a somewhat positive note, I usually get in an average of 3 hours of WoW per night, with a few extra hours thrown in on the weekend, sometimes as much as 30 hours per week. Chances are good that I will have an Epic Flying Mount before I go back to Australia :)
Apparently there's a ceiling but I never hit it, although the ground got pretty far away and I could only make out one or two buildings, so back down, down, down I went. The only problem is, and it's probably a gripe among all 70s, is that the lvl 60 Epic Mount runs faster than the lvl 70 Mount can fly. There's an "Epic" Flying Mount but he costs five times as much as the Regular version, although he apparently flies four times faster than the regular Flying Mount, and over twice as fast as the Epic Ground Mount. I go back to Australia in a few weeks time for my Mum's wedding. I wonder if that's enough time for a casual, hardcore gamer like me to accrue 5,000 gold coins? I'll probably end up doing nothing but killing Mobs for hours on end, day after day. Then again, I don't do much more than that in WoW anyway ;)
I know a couple of my Guildmates have the Epic Flying Mount on one of their toons, and with the daunting challenge of farming 5,000g in front of me, I can see why they only have it on one of their toons. A quick Google of "Buy WoW Gold" reveals that 5,000g can be bought for around $400. If I'm lucky, I can grind out that gold at approx. 100g/hour, but more likely we're looking at 80g/hour, or 60+ hours. For $400 that comes out to about $6.50/hour, or slightly more than Minimum Wage. On a somewhat positive note, I usually get in an average of 3 hours of WoW per night, with a few extra hours thrown in on the weekend, sometimes as much as 30 hours per week. Chances are good that I will have an Epic Flying Mount before I go back to Australia :)
The O.C. Fair
On Friday Liz and I took the kids to the Orange County Fair for the afternoon.
Once upon a time JE used to enjoy going on the Giant Slide but lately we haven't been able to pay him to ride it. The bunny, on the other hand, thought the Giant Slide was great and together we went on it three times. She also went on two kiddy Roller Coasters, once with me & once by herself, and she was screaming with laughter the whole time. When she saw the Chair Lift ride she was adamant that she wanted to ride it, too. Liz declined but I managed to talk JE into riding it with us so we rode it across the park and back again. Afterwards we still had a couple of tickets left so JE took the bunny through the mirror maze, again. He also went through the Fun House and was a bit disappointed that it didn't have two stories like the one from last year's LA Fair. I was, too. It didn't take him much more than 30 seconds to go from one end of the Fun House to the other, and that's being kind to the Fun House. It was so short that we were able to get the bunny on to the Flying Dumbo ride (again by herself) then walk to the Fun House, which JE went through twice (and got stuck behind a slow kid the second time through), and when we got back to the Dumbo ride it still hadn't stopped.
The kids also played a couple of midway games. They both went "fishing" and won a small, stuffed turtle each, while JE threw darts at balloons, popping two (with two darts) and won himself a stuffed dog. The bunny wanted to pop balloons too but we didn't think it wise to let her be throwing darts around. Lord knows where they'd end up.
The (supposed) last stop was the Petting Farm, where they sold small cones of feed for $2. I don't think the girl in charge of selling the food was happy to hear me telling JE what would happen if he went in there with a pellet-filled cone. You get mugged by goats is what happens. You offer them a small handful of pellets but they go for the cone instead, and one quick crunch is all it takes to spill the pellets all over the ground. Inside the enclosure was a gumball machine set up to dispense a handful of pellets for 25¢, so I got a handful and gave the kids some each. They tried to feed the baby wallaby and the baby goat and were somewhat successful, although the baby wallaby was a bit freaked out by the little boy who kept trying to pick him up (his parents didn't do too good a job of stopping him), and after eating a few pellets he ran off. The wallaby, that is, not the boy.
On the way out we passed the stage where a group of Chinese performers were just starting their show, so we sat down to watch. Initially I stood behind the bunny's stroller but Liz called me over to sit down at the table next to her. It was shortly after that I heard the people behind me yelling at people in front to sit down...perhaps they'd also been yelling at me. One woman (who appeared to be someone's nanny) was approached by a man and told she was blocking the view of people behind her. She nodded and handed off the baby she was holding to the woman who appeared to be the baby's mother, who was sitting in the baby's stroller, then remained standing. Of course the yells from behind us persisted, directed specifically at the nanny, and when it was mentioned that there was an empty seat next to her (I think that comment came from my wife) a young boy crawled out of the stroller and sat in the empty seat, while the nanny remained standing, for the entire show.
Finally we made it out of the Fair grounds back to the car and despite not having had a nap both kids stayed awake the entire drive home, but neither of them stayed awake long once they were home in bed ;)
Once upon a time JE used to enjoy going on the Giant Slide but lately we haven't been able to pay him to ride it. The bunny, on the other hand, thought the Giant Slide was great and together we went on it three times. She also went on two kiddy Roller Coasters, once with me & once by herself, and she was screaming with laughter the whole time. When she saw the Chair Lift ride she was adamant that she wanted to ride it, too. Liz declined but I managed to talk JE into riding it with us so we rode it across the park and back again. Afterwards we still had a couple of tickets left so JE took the bunny through the mirror maze, again. He also went through the Fun House and was a bit disappointed that it didn't have two stories like the one from last year's LA Fair. I was, too. It didn't take him much more than 30 seconds to go from one end of the Fun House to the other, and that's being kind to the Fun House. It was so short that we were able to get the bunny on to the Flying Dumbo ride (again by herself) then walk to the Fun House, which JE went through twice (and got stuck behind a slow kid the second time through), and when we got back to the Dumbo ride it still hadn't stopped.
The kids also played a couple of midway games. They both went "fishing" and won a small, stuffed turtle each, while JE threw darts at balloons, popping two (with two darts) and won himself a stuffed dog. The bunny wanted to pop balloons too but we didn't think it wise to let her be throwing darts around. Lord knows where they'd end up.
The (supposed) last stop was the Petting Farm, where they sold small cones of feed for $2. I don't think the girl in charge of selling the food was happy to hear me telling JE what would happen if he went in there with a pellet-filled cone. You get mugged by goats is what happens. You offer them a small handful of pellets but they go for the cone instead, and one quick crunch is all it takes to spill the pellets all over the ground. Inside the enclosure was a gumball machine set up to dispense a handful of pellets for 25¢, so I got a handful and gave the kids some each. They tried to feed the baby wallaby and the baby goat and were somewhat successful, although the baby wallaby was a bit freaked out by the little boy who kept trying to pick him up (his parents didn't do too good a job of stopping him), and after eating a few pellets he ran off. The wallaby, that is, not the boy.
On the way out we passed the stage where a group of Chinese performers were just starting their show, so we sat down to watch. Initially I stood behind the bunny's stroller but Liz called me over to sit down at the table next to her. It was shortly after that I heard the people behind me yelling at people in front to sit down...perhaps they'd also been yelling at me. One woman (who appeared to be someone's nanny) was approached by a man and told she was blocking the view of people behind her. She nodded and handed off the baby she was holding to the woman who appeared to be the baby's mother, who was sitting in the baby's stroller, then remained standing. Of course the yells from behind us persisted, directed specifically at the nanny, and when it was mentioned that there was an empty seat next to her (I think that comment came from my wife) a young boy crawled out of the stroller and sat in the empty seat, while the nanny remained standing, for the entire show.
Finally we made it out of the Fair grounds back to the car and despite not having had a nap both kids stayed awake the entire drive home, but neither of them stayed awake long once they were home in bed ;)
Thursday, July 26, 2007
The Battle at Rorke's Drift
On January 22nd and January 23rd, 1879, one hundred & thirty-nine British soldiers defended "Rorke's Drift", a mission station in Natal, South Africa, against a Zulu army numbering somewhere between 4,000 and 5,000 warriors. Armed with single-shot, breech loading Martini-Henry rifles chambered for a large (by today's standards) .577 caliber round, the British soldiers successfully repelled every attack, even when it came down to bayonet vs spear.
The Battle at Rorke's Drift has been the inspiration for several paintings
"Defense of Rorke's Drift" by Alphonse de Neuville (1835-1885)
and at least two movies; Zulu Dawn (1979), and the older (but better, IMHO), Zulu (1964), which gave Michael Caine his big break.
Being a movie I grew up with and watched at every chance, even just the few minutes of the final battle between the British soldiers and the Zulu warriors is enough to send a chill down my spine.
As the Zulu chant and work themselves up into a frenzy before they launch their final assault, the soldier who rallies his fellow soldiers, leading them in the singing of "Men of Harlech" (a Welsh battle hymn), is Welshman Emmanuel Ivor, an accomplished singer and performer in his own right.
If you're a war movie buff I totally recommend checking out Zulu if you get the chance, then again, if you're a war movie buff, you probably already have ;)
The Battle at Rorke's Drift has been the inspiration for several paintings
"Defense of Rorke's Drift" by Alphonse de Neuville (1835-1885)and at least two movies; Zulu Dawn (1979), and the older (but better, IMHO), Zulu (1964), which gave Michael Caine his big break.
Being a movie I grew up with and watched at every chance, even just the few minutes of the final battle between the British soldiers and the Zulu warriors is enough to send a chill down my spine.
As the Zulu chant and work themselves up into a frenzy before they launch their final assault, the soldier who rallies his fellow soldiers, leading them in the singing of "Men of Harlech" (a Welsh battle hymn), is Welshman Emmanuel Ivor, an accomplished singer and performer in his own right.
If you're a war movie buff I totally recommend checking out Zulu if you get the chance, then again, if you're a war movie buff, you probably already have ;)
Pocket Pool on a Phone or PC
My Razr phone comes with a Pool game, which lends itself well to a phone because pool is not a twitch, reflex-based game so doesn't require a lot of processing power from the phone, or frantic button pressing from the player. But the limitations of the phone, the small screen, etc, can make playing the game somewhat frustrating, combine that with computer players who can line up the perfect shot, including bank shots and cannon shots, and you have a challenging game which lends itself well to the old gamer's cry of "Cheating bitch!" (as made popular by Kurt Russell in John Carpenter's "The Thing").
The game also requires you to know the rules of three games of Pool, being 8-Ball UK, 8-Ball US, and 9-Ball. While the game does provide a small Rules page you can often find yourself making a foul without knowing why. Take breaking, for example. You shoot the ball down the table and into the rack of balls at the other end, only to be told it was an Illegal Break, or you committed a Foul. Why? I had to go online to find that out, and what I found was that (naturally) an Illegal Break varies from game to game. In 9-Ball the cue ball has to make contact with the lowest numbered ball first, which is not hard on the break because the Yellow (Ball #1) is the ball closest to the shooting line. On the break you must also either pot a ball (any ball) or cause four (or more) balls to hit a cushion. If you don't do this it's an Illegal Break, or a Foul, and your opponent can choose to rerack the balls, or play the table as is. In 8-Ball (both US & UK) a similar condition to the break applies, where you must drive four (or more) balls to the cushion, or pot one (or more) balls.
When not on the break you must hit one of your own balls first then either the cue ball or your own ball must hit another ball or a cushion, or you must pocket one of your own balls. So the old backyard method of snookering your opponent by hitting the cue ball just hard enough that it touches one of your own balls then stops is actually a Foul if neither ball hits a cushion.
The Pool game on my Razr is actually rather fun, if not for the computer "cheating" through superior knowledge of geometry and vectors, and in the limitations imposed on you by the digital controls, especially when your cue ball is at the other end of the table from your target ball. Sometimes you find a single press of the key moves the targeting reticle just too far for the shot you want, so you move it back and now you have the same problem from the other side. You can either miss to the left, or miss to the right, whereas the computer doesn't seem to be affected by the same limitations and makes table-length shots with ease.
I still think one of the best and most realistic computerized Pool games I've ever played was Virtual Pool, which virtually eliminated the aiming problem so common to 99% of PC Pool games. Rather than using keys to move your targeting reticle back & forth, your Virtual Pool cue was controlled by the mouse. So as you slid the mouse left and right your point of view rotated around the cue ball and changed the direction of your shot incrementally. By sliding the mouse forwards and backwards your "virtual head" raised and lowered over the cue ball, allowing you to get down low and really line up your shot. Finally when you felt the balls were in alignment and it was time to shoot you'd press & hold 'S' then slide your mouse backwards then forwards, simulating the action required to use a real pool cue. Whereas most games required you to press a button to start then stop a power meter to determine how hard you hit the cue ball, Virtual Pool gave you more precise control; the faster you slid your mouse forward, the harder you struck the ball. Ingenious!
Of course despite the more refined control Virtual Pool gave you over your cue, when playing a computer you were still subject to the same, freakishly genius way the computer could nail bank shots & combo shots. How can you beat someone who knows not just where the cue ball is going to go, but where their target ball will go, and where any other balls involved in the shot will go, too. We can determine this ourselves to some degree, but when you shoot a ball into a pack of balls it's almost impossible to determine what will happen on the other side. But the computer knows because it has to calculate everything that's going to happen, so your computer opponent knows exactly what will happen if it hits Ball 1 at Angle X with Force F.
In 9-Ball you have an easy out. Unlike 8-Ball where it's an automatic loss-of-game if you sink the Black out-of-turn, in 9-Ball it's a game winning shot as long as you hit the lowest numbered ball first. Sink the 9 on the break, you win. Hit the 8 (legally) into the 9 and sink it, you win. Hit the 1 and cannon the cue ball into the 9, sinking it, and you win. The computer knows this, too, but will often ignore this facet of the game. I've played games where the computer is on a run and I've been waiting for him to make a mistake because the 9 is poised over a corner pocket so as soon as it's my turn, it's Game Over, I Win! Cheating? Hardly, it's within the rules of the game :)
So while I never played 9-Ball until I came here to the U.S., I'm finding it's my game of choice against a computer opponent. Especially when playing a jammy bastard who pulls off impossible shots, and does things like bounce his target ball off the two corners of a pocket sending it back out into play, where it rolls down the table and drops into the opposite pocket. When the computer has precise control of every ball on the table and they play a shot like that, you know they meant to do it. Just like when the best player in the game repeatedly sinks the 9-Ball on the break. Jammy bastard! So when I get the chance to sink the 9-Ball out-of-turn I grab it with both hands.
"You got lucky this time," says the best player in the game. Hey, a win is a win, and I'll take them whenever I can get them.
*EDIT*
I was going to respond to Wolf's comment with one of my own (Noob ;) but realized it was quickly turning in to an entry length post, so I figured I'd add it here.
Growing up I had a grandfather who had a room in his house devoted to his pool table, and so I became very familiar with the three mainstream Pocket Pool games, being 8-Ball Pool, Billards, and Snooker. 8-Ball Pool you already know how to play, while Snooker you may have seen on the Tele' but billed as Pot Black (or at least that's the name the older series went by). Snooker is played with 10 red balls initially racked in a triangle a la 8-Ball (which uses 15 balls) but in addition to the 10 reds you have 6 colored balls: yellow; brown; green; blue; pink; & black, which are placed on the spots that you may have seen on better quality pool tables. The object of Snooker is to pot a red ball, then pot a colored ball of your choice (which gets respotted after potting), then pot another red ball, another (or the same) colored ball, and so on. You score 1 point for a red, and 2 to 7 points for a colored ball (in order as named earlier). After the reds are all sunk you work on the colored balls, again in successive order, until the black is sunk. The winner is not necessarily the person who potted the black, but who scored the most points during the game. Sink the most reds but only pot yellow and brown (or not sink a colored at all) and you might find yourself losing to someone who sinks the pink or black each time they pot a red. The term "snooker", meaning to finish your turn leaving your opponent no clear shot at a legal ball without making a bank shot, comes from this game.
Finally there's "English Billiards", the gentleman's game, best played among friends while smoking cigars and drinking expensive wine, whiskey or cognac. English Billiards (henceforth just called Billiards) is played between two players, each with their own cue ball (one of which is marked with a spot), and a single red ball. Yep, just the one red ball, which is placed on the dot at the bottom of the table. Technically there's no "break" in Billiards (no racked balls to break), so the person with the first shot has just one way to shoot and keep their turn; sink the red ball, or their own cue ball, on the "break". If you fail to score your opponent places his ball in the D at the top of the table and takes his first shot shooting down the table, that is, his ball must cross the line before striking the red ball or your own cue ball.
Now with three balls on the table you can also score with a "cannnon", that is striking both balls in either order with your own cue ball in one shot. You can also sink any or all of the balls during a cannon and score additional points. Be warned that if you sink the red or your own cue ball they come back out and get placed on the table and you keep your turn, but if you sink your opponent's cue ball it does not return to the table until the start of his turn, leaving you with just your own cue ball and the red with which to score points, which once again can now only occur through potting a ball. So it's not necessarily a good idea to pot your opponent's ball because it limits the ways you can score; it's better to attempt to pot your own cue ball, if possible. Billiards is played until one player wins by reaching a predetermined score, usually 100 but sometimes higher if players are particularly skilled and have no trouble scoring 100+ points in a single run.
Walter Lindrum: "G'day son. How about a game of Billiards?"
Sonny Jim: "If it's ok with you, sir, let's just say we played and you won."
Walter Lindrum's gravesite at Melbourne General Cemetary in Carlton North, Victoria, Australia. The man wasn't a fanatic, he was that damn good.
The game also requires you to know the rules of three games of Pool, being 8-Ball UK, 8-Ball US, and 9-Ball. While the game does provide a small Rules page you can often find yourself making a foul without knowing why. Take breaking, for example. You shoot the ball down the table and into the rack of balls at the other end, only to be told it was an Illegal Break, or you committed a Foul. Why? I had to go online to find that out, and what I found was that (naturally) an Illegal Break varies from game to game. In 9-Ball the cue ball has to make contact with the lowest numbered ball first, which is not hard on the break because the Yellow (Ball #1) is the ball closest to the shooting line. On the break you must also either pot a ball (any ball) or cause four (or more) balls to hit a cushion. If you don't do this it's an Illegal Break, or a Foul, and your opponent can choose to rerack the balls, or play the table as is. In 8-Ball (both US & UK) a similar condition to the break applies, where you must drive four (or more) balls to the cushion, or pot one (or more) balls.
When not on the break you must hit one of your own balls first then either the cue ball or your own ball must hit another ball or a cushion, or you must pocket one of your own balls. So the old backyard method of snookering your opponent by hitting the cue ball just hard enough that it touches one of your own balls then stops is actually a Foul if neither ball hits a cushion.
The Pool game on my Razr is actually rather fun, if not for the computer "cheating" through superior knowledge of geometry and vectors, and in the limitations imposed on you by the digital controls, especially when your cue ball is at the other end of the table from your target ball. Sometimes you find a single press of the key moves the targeting reticle just too far for the shot you want, so you move it back and now you have the same problem from the other side. You can either miss to the left, or miss to the right, whereas the computer doesn't seem to be affected by the same limitations and makes table-length shots with ease.
I still think one of the best and most realistic computerized Pool games I've ever played was Virtual Pool, which virtually eliminated the aiming problem so common to 99% of PC Pool games. Rather than using keys to move your targeting reticle back & forth, your Virtual Pool cue was controlled by the mouse. So as you slid the mouse left and right your point of view rotated around the cue ball and changed the direction of your shot incrementally. By sliding the mouse forwards and backwards your "virtual head" raised and lowered over the cue ball, allowing you to get down low and really line up your shot. Finally when you felt the balls were in alignment and it was time to shoot you'd press & hold 'S' then slide your mouse backwards then forwards, simulating the action required to use a real pool cue. Whereas most games required you to press a button to start then stop a power meter to determine how hard you hit the cue ball, Virtual Pool gave you more precise control; the faster you slid your mouse forward, the harder you struck the ball. Ingenious!
Of course despite the more refined control Virtual Pool gave you over your cue, when playing a computer you were still subject to the same, freakishly genius way the computer could nail bank shots & combo shots. How can you beat someone who knows not just where the cue ball is going to go, but where their target ball will go, and where any other balls involved in the shot will go, too. We can determine this ourselves to some degree, but when you shoot a ball into a pack of balls it's almost impossible to determine what will happen on the other side. But the computer knows because it has to calculate everything that's going to happen, so your computer opponent knows exactly what will happen if it hits Ball 1 at Angle X with Force F.
In 9-Ball you have an easy out. Unlike 8-Ball where it's an automatic loss-of-game if you sink the Black out-of-turn, in 9-Ball it's a game winning shot as long as you hit the lowest numbered ball first. Sink the 9 on the break, you win. Hit the 8 (legally) into the 9 and sink it, you win. Hit the 1 and cannon the cue ball into the 9, sinking it, and you win. The computer knows this, too, but will often ignore this facet of the game. I've played games where the computer is on a run and I've been waiting for him to make a mistake because the 9 is poised over a corner pocket so as soon as it's my turn, it's Game Over, I Win! Cheating? Hardly, it's within the rules of the game :)
So while I never played 9-Ball until I came here to the U.S., I'm finding it's my game of choice against a computer opponent. Especially when playing a jammy bastard who pulls off impossible shots, and does things like bounce his target ball off the two corners of a pocket sending it back out into play, where it rolls down the table and drops into the opposite pocket. When the computer has precise control of every ball on the table and they play a shot like that, you know they meant to do it. Just like when the best player in the game repeatedly sinks the 9-Ball on the break. Jammy bastard! So when I get the chance to sink the 9-Ball out-of-turn I grab it with both hands.
"You got lucky this time," says the best player in the game. Hey, a win is a win, and I'll take them whenever I can get them.
*EDIT*
I was going to respond to Wolf's comment with one of my own (Noob ;) but realized it was quickly turning in to an entry length post, so I figured I'd add it here.
Growing up I had a grandfather who had a room in his house devoted to his pool table, and so I became very familiar with the three mainstream Pocket Pool games, being 8-Ball Pool, Billards, and Snooker. 8-Ball Pool you already know how to play, while Snooker you may have seen on the Tele' but billed as Pot Black (or at least that's the name the older series went by). Snooker is played with 10 red balls initially racked in a triangle a la 8-Ball (which uses 15 balls) but in addition to the 10 reds you have 6 colored balls: yellow; brown; green; blue; pink; & black, which are placed on the spots that you may have seen on better quality pool tables. The object of Snooker is to pot a red ball, then pot a colored ball of your choice (which gets respotted after potting), then pot another red ball, another (or the same) colored ball, and so on. You score 1 point for a red, and 2 to 7 points for a colored ball (in order as named earlier). After the reds are all sunk you work on the colored balls, again in successive order, until the black is sunk. The winner is not necessarily the person who potted the black, but who scored the most points during the game. Sink the most reds but only pot yellow and brown (or not sink a colored at all) and you might find yourself losing to someone who sinks the pink or black each time they pot a red. The term "snooker", meaning to finish your turn leaving your opponent no clear shot at a legal ball without making a bank shot, comes from this game.
Finally there's "English Billiards", the gentleman's game, best played among friends while smoking cigars and drinking expensive wine, whiskey or cognac. English Billiards (henceforth just called Billiards) is played between two players, each with their own cue ball (one of which is marked with a spot), and a single red ball. Yep, just the one red ball, which is placed on the dot at the bottom of the table. Technically there's no "break" in Billiards (no racked balls to break), so the person with the first shot has just one way to shoot and keep their turn; sink the red ball, or their own cue ball, on the "break". If you fail to score your opponent places his ball in the D at the top of the table and takes his first shot shooting down the table, that is, his ball must cross the line before striking the red ball or your own cue ball.
Now with three balls on the table you can also score with a "cannnon", that is striking both balls in either order with your own cue ball in one shot. You can also sink any or all of the balls during a cannon and score additional points. Be warned that if you sink the red or your own cue ball they come back out and get placed on the table and you keep your turn, but if you sink your opponent's cue ball it does not return to the table until the start of his turn, leaving you with just your own cue ball and the red with which to score points, which once again can now only occur through potting a ball. So it's not necessarily a good idea to pot your opponent's ball because it limits the ways you can score; it's better to attempt to pot your own cue ball, if possible. Billiards is played until one player wins by reaching a predetermined score, usually 100 but sometimes higher if players are particularly skilled and have no trouble scoring 100+ points in a single run.
Walter Lindrum: "G'day son. How about a game of Billiards?"
Sonny Jim: "If it's ok with you, sir, let's just say we played and you won."
Walter Lindrum's gravesite at Melbourne General Cemetary in Carlton North, Victoria, Australia. The man wasn't a fanatic, he was that damn good.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Quick, think of something witty for a title!
Sunday Liz and I hooked up with Xinh and we went in to Burbank to watch HP5. For some reason I was thinking this was the HP book I'd quit reading halfway through, but as we watched the movie more and more of it seemed familiar, and now I wonder if I didn't give up on She-who-shall-not-be-named (because I've forgotten her bloody name) midway through HP6. Initially the HP books reminded me very much of Enid Blyton's stories, the Magic Faraway Tree, and various other english books I grew up with, then somewhere between HP5 and HP6 She-who-shall-not-be-named changed something with her writing style, because as much as I wanted to read HP6, all I could do was pick it up, read a bit, then put it down. It wasn't the length of the books, I've read thicker; it wasn't the content, I've read worse. It was something in the way she wrote that made reading her a chore, at least for me. I've had other books like that as well where I've really wanted to read them and I could only manage to read them a few pages at a time, too, before finally giving up on them. A writing instructor told me I was probably subconsciously picking up flaws in the way the authors wrote and so their words didn't flow, for me at least, which made reading them very difficult.
That said, I found HP5:The Movie very enjoyable, although the actors are getting older and I fear by the time HP7:The Movie comes out, at best the cast will look like college kids. Then again, HP7's kids are probably High School-senior age so college-age kids are not too far off. I tell you what though, they better be filming HP7:The Movie as you read this, or the kids really will look too old.
After HP5 let out the three of us made our way to a chinese-buffet that Xinh recommended, and I fear I ate too much. Dinner-time came around and I was still rather stuffed. It was Liz's Dad's birthday this Sunday so we ended up buying him dinner, which actually meant crashing their dinner at a local restaurant, eating some of their food (and I really shouldn't have) then paying for the entire meal and taking our kids home.
Around 2am Monday morning I awoke to the unpleasant sensation of imminent vomiting. I lay there for a few moments, trying to use superior will power to suppress it but soon came to the realization that this was not going to work, this time (it's worked in the past). I trotted to our bathroom and got ready to drive the white, porcelain bus. While not enjoyable, this vomiting session was also not particularly unpleasant, I've had far worse (vomiting blood, for one...make that two). After a couple of heaves my stomach was empty and I was feeling that post-nauseous euphoria that accompanies a good expulsion, along with the cold sweat. I crawled back into bed where I went back to sleep for the next 8 hours, except for getting up, briefly, around 5am and emailing my boss that I wouldn't be coming in to work that day.
The rest of the week has been rather uneventful, it's a short week for me, too (even shorter, now). I'm off Friday and Liz and I are taking the kids down to the O.C. Fair. It should be a good day, just hope it's not too hot.
That said, I found HP5:The Movie very enjoyable, although the actors are getting older and I fear by the time HP7:The Movie comes out, at best the cast will look like college kids. Then again, HP7's kids are probably High School-senior age so college-age kids are not too far off. I tell you what though, they better be filming HP7:The Movie as you read this, or the kids really will look too old.
After HP5 let out the three of us made our way to a chinese-buffet that Xinh recommended, and I fear I ate too much. Dinner-time came around and I was still rather stuffed. It was Liz's Dad's birthday this Sunday so we ended up buying him dinner, which actually meant crashing their dinner at a local restaurant, eating some of their food (and I really shouldn't have) then paying for the entire meal and taking our kids home.
Around 2am Monday morning I awoke to the unpleasant sensation of imminent vomiting. I lay there for a few moments, trying to use superior will power to suppress it but soon came to the realization that this was not going to work, this time (it's worked in the past). I trotted to our bathroom and got ready to drive the white, porcelain bus. While not enjoyable, this vomiting session was also not particularly unpleasant, I've had far worse (vomiting blood, for one...make that two). After a couple of heaves my stomach was empty and I was feeling that post-nauseous euphoria that accompanies a good expulsion, along with the cold sweat. I crawled back into bed where I went back to sleep for the next 8 hours, except for getting up, briefly, around 5am and emailing my boss that I wouldn't be coming in to work that day.
The rest of the week has been rather uneventful, it's a short week for me, too (even shorter, now). I'm off Friday and Liz and I are taking the kids down to the O.C. Fair. It should be a good day, just hope it's not too hot.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
More Coffee News
The Calorie-Count.com website claims the following...
A Tall (12oz) Non-fat Caffè Latte apparently has 126 calories. 0g of Fat, 12g of Protein, and 18g of Carbs, of which 16g are Sugars.
A Tall (12oz) Soy Latte has 162 calories, 5g of Fat (1g Saturated), 8g of Protein, and 22g of Carbs (1g Dietary Fiber, 17g Sugars)
At Starbucks' website I was able to pull up the following information.
Tall Non-fat Caffè Latte - 100 calories, 0g fat, 10g of Protein, and 15g of Carbs (14g from Sugars).
Tall Soy Latte - 130 calories, 4g of fat (0.5g Saturated), 7g Protein, 18g Carbs (14g from Sugars).
Now I don't drink Tall drinks, I drink Grande, and according to Starbucks,
my Grande Non-Fat Caffè Latte has 130 Calories, 13g Proteins, and 19g Carbs (18g from Sugars)
While the Grande Soy Latte 170 Calories, 4.5g Fat (0.5g Saturated), 9g Protein, 23g Carbs (17g from Sugars).
Oddly enough the Calorie-Count.com website's figures for Tall Lattes are very close to Starbucks figures for their Grande drinks. Do we believe Starbucks? Or Calorie-count.com? Or do we hazard a guess that someone at Calorie-Count.com entered the Grande figures for Tall-sized drinks? And why are both of these figures different from those I found last month on a third website?
Regardless of who's right or wrong, what this all boils down to is that I was about to go and get a Soy Latte but I've changed my mind; I'm sticking with my Non-fat Caffè Latte, Grande of course ;)
Although, I just noticed the Café Au Lait stats.
70 Calories (almost half that of my Caffé Latte), 0g Fat, 7g Protein (but who drinks coffee for Protein?). 10g Carbs, all of it sugar, but again close to half that of my Caffé Latte.
I think I'll give a non-Fat Grande Café Au Lait a try.
Of course an Americano has even less calories, carbs, etc, but with it I'll need to add Creamer & Sugar which defeats the purpose of getting the lower calorie drink in the first place.
A Tall (12oz) Non-fat Caffè Latte apparently has 126 calories. 0g of Fat, 12g of Protein, and 18g of Carbs, of which 16g are Sugars.
A Tall (12oz) Soy Latte has 162 calories, 5g of Fat (1g Saturated), 8g of Protein, and 22g of Carbs (1g Dietary Fiber, 17g Sugars)
At Starbucks' website I was able to pull up the following information.
Tall Non-fat Caffè Latte - 100 calories, 0g fat, 10g of Protein, and 15g of Carbs (14g from Sugars).
Tall Soy Latte - 130 calories, 4g of fat (0.5g Saturated), 7g Protein, 18g Carbs (14g from Sugars).
Now I don't drink Tall drinks, I drink Grande, and according to Starbucks,
my Grande Non-Fat Caffè Latte has 130 Calories, 13g Proteins, and 19g Carbs (18g from Sugars)
While the Grande Soy Latte 170 Calories, 4.5g Fat (0.5g Saturated), 9g Protein, 23g Carbs (17g from Sugars).
Oddly enough the Calorie-Count.com website's figures for Tall Lattes are very close to Starbucks figures for their Grande drinks. Do we believe Starbucks? Or Calorie-count.com? Or do we hazard a guess that someone at Calorie-Count.com entered the Grande figures for Tall-sized drinks? And why are both of these figures different from those I found last month on a third website?
Regardless of who's right or wrong, what this all boils down to is that I was about to go and get a Soy Latte but I've changed my mind; I'm sticking with my Non-fat Caffè Latte, Grande of course ;)
Although, I just noticed the Café Au Lait stats.
70 Calories (almost half that of my Caffé Latte), 0g Fat, 7g Protein (but who drinks coffee for Protein?). 10g Carbs, all of it sugar, but again close to half that of my Caffé Latte.
I think I'll give a non-Fat Grande Café Au Lait a try.
Of course an Americano has even less calories, carbs, etc, but with it I'll need to add Creamer & Sugar which defeats the purpose of getting the lower calorie drink in the first place.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
The waltz was easy...
once I figured it out, but what the hell kind of tempo is 1, 2, cha-cha-cha, 3, 4, cha-cha-cha?
To top it off, our Instructor wants us to start on either the upbeat or the downbeat (I can't remember which) but basically you take 3 steps to start, then do the cha-cha-cha. So it's 1, 2, 3, cha-cha-cha, 1, 2, cha-cha-cha, 3, 4, cha-cha-cha
I'm listening to the music and trying to work out when to take that first step to the left and I can't hear it because there is no 1, 2, 3, cha-cha-cha. It's all 1, 2, cha-cha-cha, 1, 2, cha-cha-cha. Apparently any fool can start with the 2-step cha-cha-cha, but our Instructor wants us to learn the advanced Cha-Cha and start with a 3-step.
I think the first step is supposed to be on the final "cha". Yeah, that makes sense. I don't know why I didn't get that last night.
When we're in the chorus line everything works well. I'm dancing ok, Liz is dancing ok. We've totally got it. Then we cross the room and hook up and everything goes to pieces. It doesn't help that nobody wants to give us room, even though we're two of the tallest people on the floor.
Sometimes you just want to start smacking people and yelling "Get the fuck out of our way! We were here first! Go back to your own little spot and STOP CROWDING US!!! I'm gonna be stamping on toes soon and they won't be my wife's. You hear what I'm saying?!"
So we slowly start to get the hang of it, and we're moving together and doing ok, and then one of the Staff comes by and starts to tell us what we're doing wrong, or what we need to do right, and then it all goes to hell in a handcart again.
And sweat! I was still sweating at the In-laws over half an hour later. Of course it didn't help that they wanted us to show them what we'd learned, and my kids were jumping all over me, and my son (who's still a young boy but not so little any more) practically jumped into my arms, so of course my daughter did the same thing when I finally put my boy down, which is when I was asked to show off the Cha-cha, which I did while carrying 30+ pounds of child.
I'm not really complaining. I actually had fun. And I'm enjoying learning how to dance with Liz without stepping on her toes. More importantly she's learning how to dance with me. She already knows how to dance (and well, I might add), but she's used to dancing with her family who are also quite competent dancers. Liz is not used to dancing with someone who doesn't know how to dance so it's a learning process for her, too.
To top it off, our Instructor wants us to start on either the upbeat or the downbeat (I can't remember which) but basically you take 3 steps to start, then do the cha-cha-cha. So it's 1, 2, 3, cha-cha-cha, 1, 2, cha-cha-cha, 3, 4, cha-cha-cha
I'm listening to the music and trying to work out when to take that first step to the left and I can't hear it because there is no 1, 2, 3, cha-cha-cha. It's all 1, 2, cha-cha-cha, 1, 2, cha-cha-cha. Apparently any fool can start with the 2-step cha-cha-cha, but our Instructor wants us to learn the advanced Cha-Cha and start with a 3-step.
I think the first step is supposed to be on the final "cha". Yeah, that makes sense. I don't know why I didn't get that last night.
When we're in the chorus line everything works well. I'm dancing ok, Liz is dancing ok. We've totally got it. Then we cross the room and hook up and everything goes to pieces. It doesn't help that nobody wants to give us room, even though we're two of the tallest people on the floor.
Sometimes you just want to start smacking people and yelling "Get the fuck out of our way! We were here first! Go back to your own little spot and STOP CROWDING US!!! I'm gonna be stamping on toes soon and they won't be my wife's. You hear what I'm saying?!"
So we slowly start to get the hang of it, and we're moving together and doing ok, and then one of the Staff comes by and starts to tell us what we're doing wrong, or what we need to do right, and then it all goes to hell in a handcart again.
And sweat! I was still sweating at the In-laws over half an hour later. Of course it didn't help that they wanted us to show them what we'd learned, and my kids were jumping all over me, and my son (who's still a young boy but not so little any more) practically jumped into my arms, so of course my daughter did the same thing when I finally put my boy down, which is when I was asked to show off the Cha-cha, which I did while carrying 30+ pounds of child.
I'm not really complaining. I actually had fun. And I'm enjoying learning how to dance with Liz without stepping on her toes. More importantly she's learning how to dance with me. She already knows how to dance (and well, I might add), but she's used to dancing with her family who are also quite competent dancers. Liz is not used to dancing with someone who doesn't know how to dance so it's a learning process for her, too.
The Highwaymen
sing The Highwayman.
As much as I love country, and as famous as this song is, I don't believe I've ever heard it until GoCountry played it this morning, and right away I loved it.
Here's Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings and Johnny Cash, collectively known as The Highwaymen singing their title song, The Highwayman.
As much as I love country, and as famous as this song is, I don't believe I've ever heard it until GoCountry played it this morning, and right away I loved it.
Here's Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings and Johnny Cash, collectively known as The Highwaymen singing their title song, The Highwayman.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Just another typical Monday.
Shortly after getting in to work this morning an email was sent around congratulating the successful candidate for a position I'd interviewed for a few weeks ago. No, I wasn't the successful candidate, and it wasn't the guy who's been here for 10+ years and is already working in that position; it was a girl who's been here for less than two years.
I decided to go to Starbucks and get a conciliatory latte. While making my drink the barista asked me what I'd ordered.
"Non-fat latte," I told him, as I watched him pour a latte from the whole milk pot.
"Non-fat latte," he said to me, handing me my...whole-milk latte? Aah, it doesn't matter; it's only a few more calories.
Back at the office I took the first sip from my latte. What the??? This isn't even a whole milk latte!!! What the hell am I drinking???
The answer to that would be "Vanessa's" Hazelnut Latte. Which wasn't too bad once I was no longer expecting a regular latte. I sure hope Vanessa took a sip of "her" drink before she left Starbucks.
A Subway opened up across the street. I went over there with two coworkers and got a Turkey & Ham on Honey-Oat...or at least that's what I ordered. Got back to the office and discovered I had a Turkey & Ham on Wheat. Better than White at least, which would have been taken back to Subway...maybe...they were kind of busy when I left.
I wonder...dare I say it?
Come on, Monday! Is that the best you can do? BRING IT!!!
I decided to go to Starbucks and get a conciliatory latte. While making my drink the barista asked me what I'd ordered.
"Non-fat latte," I told him, as I watched him pour a latte from the whole milk pot.
"Non-fat latte," he said to me, handing me my...whole-milk latte? Aah, it doesn't matter; it's only a few more calories.
Back at the office I took the first sip from my latte. What the??? This isn't even a whole milk latte!!! What the hell am I drinking???
The answer to that would be "Vanessa's" Hazelnut Latte. Which wasn't too bad once I was no longer expecting a regular latte. I sure hope Vanessa took a sip of "her" drink before she left Starbucks.
A Subway opened up across the street. I went over there with two coworkers and got a Turkey & Ham on Honey-Oat...or at least that's what I ordered. Got back to the office and discovered I had a Turkey & Ham on Wheat. Better than White at least, which would have been taken back to Subway...maybe...they were kind of busy when I left.
I wonder...dare I say it?
Come on, Monday! Is that the best you can do? BRING IT!!!
Where to begin
when there's not much to say...
Probably the most exciting thing to happen all week was getting a Juror Summons, because I've always wanted to be on a Jury. And having a Government job means I get paid my regular wage for the entire time I'm on Jury Duty, so for me it represents no undue hardship and is actually something I'm looking forward to doing. Before I became a Citizen I received at least three Juror Summons, and I kept responding saying "I'm not a U.S. Citizen", but they kept sending me more. Then I became a U.S. Citizen and I never received another Juror Summons. Until now.
The phone system to call in was not the most helpful. The very first question the automated system would ask me was "Are you a U.S. Citizen? Press 1 for Yes, 2 for No." So I'd hit 2 (back when I wasn't a U.S. Citizen) then get asked every other question as well (Are you a convicted Felon, etc), then get put on Hold. I'd get put on Hold by an automated phone system. Finally it would come back and say "You said you are not a Citizen. Is this correct? 1 for Yes, 2 for No." See where they're going here? This is the reverse of the first question. It's now a negative question, but with a qualifier, which means it's easier to answer than a true negative question.
"Are you not a U.S. Citizen?"
Yes, that is correct, I am not.
No, that is incorrect, I am.
I'm sure there's probably a 4" thick grammar book discussing how to answer Negative Questions, but it seems to me that as obtuse as the above answers are, they're technically the correct answers for that particular negative question.
"He's not your dog?"
"No, he's not" answers the question with no ambiguity, but is it correct to answer this particular question like that? Or should you say, "Yes (that is correct), he's not my dog."
Both of these questions are phrased in such a way that the questioner appears to already have a preconceived idea regarding the situation.
"I didn't see you there. Didn't you go to the party last night?"
"You don't seem too fond of him. He's not your dog?
Despite this, it seems that a No answer should be more correct when agreeing with a Negative Question, simply because we're taught that No is negative.
Didn't you go to the party last night?
No, I did not.
He's not your dog?
No, he's not.
But appearances can be deceiving, and an incorrect answer is still an incorrect answer regardless of how correct it appears, and regardless of common usage and acceptance. Remember, once upon a time it was accepted that the world was flat, and in fact it appeared that it was, but eventually everyone came around and realized the error of their ways.
Still, I'm very open to people commenting and providing reputable references that support their point of view. So, which is correct?
Q. He's not your dog?
A1. Yes, he's not my dog.
A2. No, he's not my dog.
Probably the most exciting thing to happen all week was getting a Juror Summons, because I've always wanted to be on a Jury. And having a Government job means I get paid my regular wage for the entire time I'm on Jury Duty, so for me it represents no undue hardship and is actually something I'm looking forward to doing. Before I became a Citizen I received at least three Juror Summons, and I kept responding saying "I'm not a U.S. Citizen", but they kept sending me more. Then I became a U.S. Citizen and I never received another Juror Summons. Until now.
The phone system to call in was not the most helpful. The very first question the automated system would ask me was "Are you a U.S. Citizen? Press 1 for Yes, 2 for No." So I'd hit 2 (back when I wasn't a U.S. Citizen) then get asked every other question as well (Are you a convicted Felon, etc), then get put on Hold. I'd get put on Hold by an automated phone system. Finally it would come back and say "You said you are not a Citizen. Is this correct? 1 for Yes, 2 for No." See where they're going here? This is the reverse of the first question. It's now a negative question, but with a qualifier, which means it's easier to answer than a true negative question.
"Are you not a U.S. Citizen?"
Yes, that is correct, I am not.
No, that is incorrect, I am.
I'm sure there's probably a 4" thick grammar book discussing how to answer Negative Questions, but it seems to me that as obtuse as the above answers are, they're technically the correct answers for that particular negative question.
"He's not your dog?"
"No, he's not" answers the question with no ambiguity, but is it correct to answer this particular question like that? Or should you say, "Yes (that is correct), he's not my dog."
Both of these questions are phrased in such a way that the questioner appears to already have a preconceived idea regarding the situation.
"I didn't see you there. Didn't you go to the party last night?"
"You don't seem too fond of him. He's not your dog?
Despite this, it seems that a No answer should be more correct when agreeing with a Negative Question, simply because we're taught that No is negative.
Didn't you go to the party last night?
No, I did not.
He's not your dog?
No, he's not.
But appearances can be deceiving, and an incorrect answer is still an incorrect answer regardless of how correct it appears, and regardless of common usage and acceptance. Remember, once upon a time it was accepted that the world was flat, and in fact it appeared that it was, but eventually everyone came around and realized the error of their ways.
Still, I'm very open to people commenting and providing reputable references that support their point of view. So, which is correct?
Q. He's not your dog?
A1. Yes, he's not my dog.
A2. No, he's not my dog.
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