In February I got sick. I felt horrible. I didn't feel like crap. I felt like the way crap would be after sitting in a damp environment with repeated sun exposure after a couple of weeks... and maybe the occasional rain. It was evening. I was watching TV through dry eyes, and the phone rang. It was my sister. She and I talk a lot, but I was in no mood for conversation, so I didn't answer. Five minutes later, she called back. I didn't answer. Three minutes later, she called back. All sorts of things ran through my mind regarding possible issues with her, her kids, or our parents. Ultimately, I was in no condition to adequately respond to any of those, so I didn't answer. Four minutes later, my cellphone rang. I didn't answer. However, that time I texted her that I was sick and not in the right mind set to talk. I'd talk to her the next day. She immediately called back. I didn't answer. Note that she did not leave a message regarding the urgency.

I got up the next morning, a Monday, and started a dreary trip to the lab. It was sunny, which is unusual for a February morning here, so even though I was sick, I was actually more on the chipper side of dreary. I had just passed the Saratoga library, which is the first place beyond which I can have a relatively stable cellphone signal, and the phone rang. It was my sister.

Everyone in the family was fine, but she started the conversation with those horrible words, "I did something, and I don't want you to be upset with me." Oh crap. Was this about her or me? Knowing her, it was probably about me. I was hoping that she just wanted to confess to someone that she went to a bar, drank a bunch of tequila shots, jumped on a table, danced and flashed her boobs, and threw up on the spectators. However, my sister would never go to a bar, would not do shots, would not flash her body, and would probably run five miles before she would allow herself to vomit with witnesses. I knew it was something else.

No. She did something worse. She was at a regional meeting for the Missouri National Education Association, and she felt compelled to say the following to a lady: You... should... meet... my... brother... In a movie, that entire line would have to be given in slow motion with all the audio manipulation that makes it sound like death is around the corner. I have made it clear to friends that I do not want to be 'set up.' Not because I don't trust them, necessarily (and I trust very few), but because if it doesn't go well, the Setter-Upper takes it personally. Then I am a jackass. I can be a jackass without help, thank you very much.

I think it was then that I asked the quintessential question: "Um, where does she live?" Yup. She lives in Missouri... 2,000 miles away. I think I have tried this. It can't work, can it!?

I told her that it was ok. No harm done. She told me wonderful stories about the lady. Virtually none of which made me make sense of why she would do this. The only one that made sense was the one that happened after she had made the suggestion to the lady. This lady, this Holly, stood up from her chair and put her jacket on. It was a Harley jacket. My sister asked Holly if she rode a Harley, and Holly replied (probably with some defiance - knowing Holly), "yes." My sister just looked smug. She replied, "my brother rides a Harley."

A couple conversations had transpired regarding why Holly should talk to me, but Holly never really intended to pursue it. Like me, she had been through enough relationships, and was finished. Finito. Fini. Put-a-fork-in-it. It's done. Before they left, my sister pulled out a card and wrote something down. Holly figured it was a number, a work thing, anything but what it was: my blog page address.

In defiance of nature, Holly decided to read my rantings. Probably against her better judgment, she wrote my sister that she would like to be introduced to me. My sister called me (I answered this time) and told me as much. I was a little concerned. I reminded my sister that I am a little right of center politically, and that this person was a contact through the teachers' union, which is predominantly considered liberal. She responded, "I know! But she read your blog and one of the first things on there was your feeling on gun control! And yet, she still wants to meet you!"

Perplexed, I sent Holly an introductory e-mail. The next thing you know, we are talking on the phone. We went through countless stories on each other, and came to that particular point in a relationship. The kind of point that you can not understand if you have not been in a long-distance relationship. We had to meet in person. On impulse, we booked a flight for her to come to California. Her family went ballistic. The biggest concern was that I might kidnap her, and she balked. She canceled the trip... Until the day before she was scheduled to fly.

We had a great weekend together. I think we knew then that this was the right thing to do. My sister thinks that there was some divine intervention on the whole thing. I don't believe in that sort of thing, but I can not deny that this is incredible. We spent so much time on the phone, texting, and e-mail that we had already learned more about each other than most people do after a year of dating locally. Annie had a volleyball tournament in Reno in the spring, and suggested that Holly should come out and join us. Holly got time off from school, and did! Most of the drive to Reno, she and Annie talked about I don't know what... I was paying attention to the road. At one point, Holly moved to the front seat, and they were both texting like mad. I asked who was texting. They were texting each other... front seat to back seat... They both started laughing hysterically.

In May I was slated to fly out to Missouri and spend a few days with her and her boys. I spent the first day moving from classroom to classroom talking about technology. However, I had walked in to a jeweler a week before. I had a picture of the ring I wanted. They could get it, but I was looking at what they had to offer. I found one I liked even better. It had leaves on it with diamonds in the petals. That's what I wanted. I picked a diamond and they put it together. I know the people, and while the wife and I were talking, her husband surprised me by interrupting other work to get everything done. Good people. I walked out with the ring. Now, back to the school visit.

I had ideas about when I wanted to propose. None of them seemed to be good. I was afraid she would say no. I was afraid I would distract her from work. Around lunch time, there was some drama in the school. She was very frustrated and stressed. Students had left the room. I held her hands and told her that I hoped it would all be alright. I told her how much I admired her... how important she was... then I dropped to my knee. She said yes!

The boys and I had a blast working around the house. We fixed the garage door, I taught them how to replace electrical sockets, and generally played around. Some bodily functions may have come to play when Holly was not around. Safe to say, we got along famously.

So, here we are. The boys and Holly have come out to visit. We have played and worked together. We know what we have in front of us. We just have to make it happen. I think we have each finally found the right connection.

Now, we just need the court to agree.
Am I supposed to be this happy?

I attended the 2010 IEEE International Symposium on Electromagnetic Compatibility a week ago. Don't laugh. It may not sound exciting, but it is what I do for a living. At any rate, on Wednesdays of the Symposium, we have our big dinner. This year, the Symposium was in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and we were outside of a hotel next to the beach. It was very nice, and I dare say the food was better than some of the symposia I have attended. I was talking to one of my professors from UMR, and a young Japanese engineer/student came up and asked if she could have her picture taken with him (he is extremely well known among my professional community). I humbly backed away, and she and her boss/professor talked to my professor for awhile. I waited by the side to finish my conversation with him, when the young lady turned to me and asked if she could have her picture taken with me.

I was confused. Why? Her boss/professor came up to me and said that I was famous in Japan! We were at the same table for dinner, and I saw/heard him point at me and tell her my full name, which I thought was strange as well. He told me that everyone in Japan has my papers on... stuff... that I worked on during graduate school, and it has been translated as well. 'They' (the people that do my kind of job in Japan) all know my work! The picture was taken, and I walked off in humble awe.

It is kind of cool to know that someone else looked at your work and found value.

I'm so bad, I'm worldwide!

Annie has volleyball camp this week, and of course most days end with us playing for a couple of evening hours in the driveway. Her abilities have grown substantially since I made previous volleyball videos, and Annie asked if we could make one of her practicing in the driveway. So, we did! It shows her going through drills at home, as well as the necessary goofing off that we do... She has come a long way since she first picked up a volleyball one year ago, and she has not quite reached eleven, yet!

The video is shown here, but it will be bigger if you go to YouTube...



During camp, I have been so proud of her! She jammed her thumb Monday when we were playing at home, and it has been hurting her every day. Nonetheless, she has performed beautifully. I was grinning from ear to ear today when they broke the girls up for training with the sixth and seventh graders in one group, and the eighth graders in another group. Eighth graders plus Annie... Yes, although she is tall for her age, she is generally much shorter than the eighth graders, but she was stellar! She was generally more consistent with her passes and sets than all of the eighth graders except for one, with whom she played in her comp league.

I am so pleased that she has found something that inspires her and motivates her to do something and always strive for something more.


Proud... so, proud...

This speaks for itself... sadly...



After you hear him say his bit about the low crime-rate among illegals, you might want to read the following article: San Francisco Shooting.

Along these lines, I hear frequently from the media in California about the 'whackos' in the Tea Party movement, and the violence they instill. The next clip is demonstrative of the rampant violence in Tea Party gatherings... Thank you to my Tiki for pointing me to this.



I think he made a beautiful point, but truth be told, I think that is the fourth verse.






Embarrassed as a Californian...

To briefly bring the reader up to date: at the end of fourth grade, Annie and I had been discussing her going to a sport camp, probably basketball camp. Week after week we received fliers for camps, but one day we received one regarding a volleyball camp. I showed it to Annie, and her eyes got huge. "I want to do that!" Her mother was very supportive, even though it interfered with the summer custody schedule. Annie took to it like the proverbial fish to water. Even during camp, my after work hours were spent playing volleyball with her in the driveway. Camp was even extended a week for those who wanted to continue. At then end of camp, I was hit with a bomb shell: we were approached by the coach's mother that people were looking to create a local volleyball club, and they would like Annie to try out. The idea was that they were going to make a twelve-and-under team. I mentioned that Annie had just turned ten, would she get to play? "Annie is already better than a lot of the twelve year olds... she'll play."

We continued playing almost daily; improving skills, focusing on certain contacts. Tournament League started around December with two practices a week. The problem? There were not enough twelve-and-unders. Annie was playing with the fourteens and thirteens. She was a little weak in the beginning, but held her own. We continued drills in the driveway every day we could, and she has jumped up on the learning curve severely. Below is a video I made of one of her matches in a big tournament in Santa Clara.



Yes, she had some issues with placing her digs and passes to the setter. However, that has dropped significantly in the last month and a half. Furthermore, when she is 'on,' her serves are spectacular and accurate about 90% of the time. They are beautiful serves, too: one foot over the net with a quick drop on the other side. Right in the hole... She was doing better than anyone in practice one day last week, and the assistant coach put her in to serve at a strange rotation during a scrimmage. I think she did it to see if she could deliver. Unfortunately, that was the serve that Annie missed... first one in the last 15 serves. The next day we had practice, and she did it again. However, there were a lot of serving practices, and Annie's arm started to give out. She refused to give up, and from that point on was only serving about 40%. In the end, she damaged her arm, and I think she is still dealing with it. Fortunately for the tournament today, Annie is the Libero most of the time and can not serve in a match in California. Which brings us to today...

The coach was not there when we had to start, and I was allowed (even volunteered) by the other parents to coach! I took advantage of the moment and shared some thoughts with the team that I would never have been allowed to do otherwise... The coach arrived right before the first serve, and the girls decimated the opposing team the first game. We were missing two players, one of whom is one of our stars, but they did it. The second game something happened, and they fell apart. However, they pulled it together and won in a close game. We lost our second match for the same reason against a team that we had typically exceeded every other time we played them. We went to lunch slightly despondent.

I looked at the bracket play for the afternoon, and noticed it was slightly different from previous Area League Tournaments. We still had a major shot at winning. I told the girls they could still take the tournament, but they couldn't lose another match. A few girls perked up. "Really?" They pulled it together. Even with an injured and valuable player after the next match, they worked well together. Annie was digging and passing like crazy, and did an awesome job with only a few errors. She chastised herself, but shrugged them off and moved on. The last match we played we were at match point. Annie was in. The serve came in to the right corner. She ran over, dropped her shoulder and launched the ball to the front where it was fake-set over the net. She ran to get into position as middle back. No sooner had she got there, the hit came from over the net towards her. She dug down and lifted it up. She passed it a little hard, and it went over the net. The opponents rocketed it into the net. Another father looked at me and said, "that last point was all Annie!'

We came in first for the tournament. That was our first time. There are very happy and proud girls in the San Lorenzo Valley tonight!

I sooooo want to be a coach, and my digger rocks!

Annie and I were trying to figure out how long ago the chickens were attacked by the raccoons. Yes, there is a point to this mental exercise, but in typical fashion, I will wait until the end to provide it...

Ultimately, after discussing various events that have happened to us in that space in time, we realized that it has been over two and a half years. Lila Bird lived with us (i.e. in our house) for at least four months while she healed, and disgustingly pecked off her flesh that was hanging off her body after being carved alive. I think it might have been closer to six months...

At any rate, the trauma of the ordeal left her incapable of providing eggs. My threats of turning her into a stew chicken did not help things, I guess. However, I had come to grips with the fact that she had become my parrot, and was not going to lay eggs again. She is the coolest chicken we have ever had, though. She still talks to me when she sees me. In fact, she can see me sitting on the deck punching on the computer from the coop pen, and talks to me from there. Our new rooster seems to have a problem with that, as he has a tendency to step up to her, stretch out, flap his wings, and crow when she does that.

So, after all she has been through... the struggle of having her muscle carved from her body by sharp claws... having other chickens attack her because she looked more like food then a chicken after that... living in a box (ok, that's not accurate given that she had become a pet that walked around getting fed from Annie's hand and perched on my chair, but still)... Lila Bird surprised us today.

Lila Bird blessed us with two blue-green eggs (she is an Aracauna). I am constantly amazed with Nature's ability to adapt and deal... I suspect we could all have something to learn from that should we ever move past our self-proclaimed authority over life on this planet...

Bowing to the order of life...

Alright, I have recently received some e-mails that suggest that I should be more diligent about writing. After all, I have to pay for this freakin' web-hosting thing... Starting tomorrow...

Gearing up for it...

I have typically had the responsibility and gift of calming Annie when she was upset since she was a baby. Annie was only several months old when I started taking her out to the deck and swaying back and forth with her. The wind would blow and the redwoods would sway like we were. They would travel about 100 feet side to side at the tops. I would tell her that the trees were dancing for her. When this started she was too small to really be able to focus on the trees, but she would immediately calm down. We did this the first few years of her life.

It was always special. I would walk into Annie's room, and she would be standing in her crib, and bouncing in anticipation of my arrival. We would go out and see the dancing trees before I gave her breakfast.

Now flash forward until she is almost ten. She made me a Father's Day card. She described various things that she perceives of me, but the one that was the most taken to heart was about my voice...

My Daddy's voice is like the Trees Dancing...

It practically brought a tear to my eye. I chose to accept this as 'my Daddy's voice calms me.' Heck, I almost tear up writing about it.


Just want to be a good daddy...

The interpretation of the Second Amendment has long since concerned me. I see both sides, although I have never stopped believing that all Americans should be armed. My concern stems more deeply from the fact that we have a small 'representative' body of people that make decisions for the rest of us, and recent bills have demonstrated that the 'people' are largely considered ignorant and unable to decide or be responsible for themselves.

The court system is run very much like parenting, or at least my parenting. If a situation/request/behavior is new, discussion is had, arguments are made on both sides, and the judge (me) makes a ruling. Granted, the judge and the defendant (sometimes the plaintiff) are typically the same person in these cases, but the process is very similar. The decision is final without the admittance of new and significant evidence or testimony. Precedence also comes to play. 'No, we can't do that my dad will say no because once...' There are many issues in our society that I believe must necessarily be discussed and rediscussed. Not because the current legal interpretation is wrong, but because I don't want the importance of the concept to be lost (e.g. abortion rights).

Personal armed defense I don't see as one of those issues, though. I have friends that tell me I should not stop on the road to help a stranded motorist or pick up a hitchhiker. The reasoning is that they could be a whacko and kill or hurt me. My answer is always the same: I will not stop doing what I think is right because their are bastards out there that would turn my good nature to their advantage. I have yet to hear an argument against being personally armed that I can accept myself.

At any rate, the Second Amendment is very particular (in my opinion) regarding its intent: State Militia to maintain an internal defense if the government goes overboard. Interestingly, I think the current and recent governmental establishments would find this frightening, and do what they could to curtail such an organization. I read one treatise on the subject that said that the founding fathers were short sighted given the technology and sociology of today. I think he was right, but not for any of the same reasons. He felt that his analysis demonstrated the need for the removal of the Second Amendment. I disagree. If it were not for the automatic jail time, I would call the local law enforcement, tell them I am in fear for my life, and see how long it takes them to get to my house. I'd lay money on the probability that I would have been ripped off and injured before they got here. They might catch the person on their way given the one-way access to my house, but the damage would have been done.

I am puzzled by why the Founding Fathers did not consider personal security issue. It was brought up at the Pennsylvania ratification convention, but was denied by the majority. I don't know why. Everyone at the time was packing except for the Amish. Maybe that's why Pennsylvania turned it down. Maybe they were just worried it would cause conflict and delays with what the other colonies had voted on.

I have been unable to find a reference on-line, but someone I trust and was alive at the time told me that Khushchev said that America could never be taken because everyone was packin'. Of course, I am paraphrasing, but I can see the thought being accurate. A recent poll of criminals in prison indicated that their only fear when committing a crime was that the other person involved was packing.

I believe I have the right to carry. I know there are 'bad' people out there doing it, and they have to be monitored, but I just want to handle my own situation. I don't want to rely on law enforcement for encounters that I should be able to handle. That just costs us money, and we can't afford the police force that can handle it, nor do we want to. I don't think the county sheriff should have the ability to say I can't carry without a reason, but that is the way it is in California. I could drop a weapon in the seat next to me in the car with complete visibility, and technically that is not illegal, although I recognize that it would result in me spread eagle on the side of the car if I were pulled over for even the mildest driving infraction.

The fact is I have weapons at my disposal all the time. I have four cords of wood, I'm sure I have a substantial stick there that I could wield with malicious intent. I have hammers, screwdrivers, a nail gun, chickens... Ok, I don't know how I could use the chickens in an attack, but they can be brutal if raised away from people. Ask my sister. Anyway, every time I have to drive to work, I am in a potential weapon. I grant you that the hand gun or rifle only serves the purpose of killing, but I know that I could create a weapon myself if I wanted to. What is the point in taking weapons from citizens that can manage it on their own? Criminals will find it anyway, it is not hard to find if you want it... However, if you enable the population to arm themselves, it creates risk for the criminals. Isn't that a deterrent? Incarceration is obviously not a deterrent.

I have more, but am feeling frustrated after watching Sotomayor's thoughts on the subject. I respect her comments that indicate a separation from her personal opinions from legal interpretation. However, the whole thing seems scary to me. She admitted that the thought of personal protection has never been brought up before the court, although I thought the recent D.C. ruling was about that, but apparently there were other circumstances involved.

Please, government, get out of my life... Yes, I'll be packing as soon as California lets me... I just don't want us to get to the point where the only thing we have is the right to bare arms...


Clean Harry...

I was in the lab yesterday fairly early in the morning. It was early enough that the commute was a breeze, which was nice! I started rebuilding a machine for testing. A couple of hours later, with glazed-over eyes, we rolled it into the chamber, and tested it. It looked quite good, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I've got a couple of projects where the communication protocols are giving me a lot of difficulty in controlling the emissions. Confused? Good. Join the club. We have t-shirts.

Well, after a moderate success, I moved on to working on the other problem project. We were not making any progress. The data was confusing. I was frustrated, and my stomach was getting in a knot. Normally, I get in a zone at work, especially in the lab, and I skip eating. It takes too much time, and distracts me. Damned distractions. I need to be a solar creature. I can go pace in the sun for a while and think, and absorb the energy. However, I don't want to have a green tint... Anyway, I decided to run get something to eat. It was only 10:30 in the morning, but I had been up and at 'em for a long time.

My first thought was to go find something healthy. I punched the GPS for local food, and decided it was going to take too long. I was willing to accept the grease in a bun from Jack in the Box because it was close. I scooted down to Jack in the Crack, and found a parking space right in front of the door. Within two minutes, my order was being grilled and I was patiently waiting to receive it. I looked towards the end of the restaurant and saw a kid of about fifteen bouncing around outside, literally. From that angle, I couldn't see my beautiful car. I dismissed it, the kid came in, went to the bathroom, and started talking in Spanish to a lady behind the counter. She was either his mother, or he worked there.

My food was ready, and I happily ventured out of the restaurant with my grilled chicken and Coke in hand. I took two steps out of the store, and came to a stop. I haven't washed my car in a couple of months, and it had developed a thin layer of dust. Undisturbed, it was not too bad, but now? On the hood of my car was the obvious imprint of a butt. On either side were swipes in the dust from hands. Someone had freakin' sat on my hood, leaned back, and wiped their hands on my car. I was ticked. I am 85% sure that it was that kid. Aside from the employee that I saw earlier out there, and the mother and two kids I saw leave, he was the only one out there. I turned and considered going in to confront him, but decided he would deny it, and the establishment would argue in his defense. In frustration, I drove away.

Please, people, teach your kids to respect other people's property. Teach respect. I'm not saying I was always great when I was a kid. I did some things when I was kid for which I am not proud. I confess that I still laugh. Getting into the Volkswagon minibus and moving it two blocks down cracked me up. It hurt no one, and the person got up the next morning wondering how the vehicle ended up there. Probably wondered exactly how many joints had been smoked the previous night. My crowning moment was when my friends and I unscrewed all the light bulbs at the local electric co-op. We broke NOTHING. The place was lit up like a Christmas tree, and I found it ironic that an electric co-op would burn that much power. Without exaggeration there were three times as many lights on this small building as were necessary for security. The lights obviously did not provide security given that five of my friends and I were able to climb all over the place and unscrew them. I know I have written about this before, but I still find it hysterical. We turned that place to darkness, and ran away laughing. I felt a tiny bit guilty that it was reported in the newspaper that vandals had broken all the lights. I felt guilty only because I had underestimated the intelligence of the people working at the electric co-op. Honestly, who takes out a light bulb without looking at the filament to see if it is broken or not, screwing it back in, and checking to see if it works. I guess it was easier to replace them and push the cost to the co-op members, which is my second feeling of guilt. I never intended for anyone to have to pay for that. Not my style.

Yes, I made some mistakes, and it certainly wasn't because my parents didn't teach me respect. I guess I pushed it further than I should have. I never would have sat on a car that was not my own. I am probably just digging a big hole here. I'd better stop...

I hope the dust doesn't come off his pants...

TEACH!!!!!!!!!!!!