I bought some new jeans a few weeks ago. They are more modern, and I really like them. However, today I realized I have become one of 'them.'

I apparently have lost a little weight. My jeans have a 32" waist, and they are falling down. The jeans are lowriders, so yes, I have become one of those people whose underwear shows. Fortunately, my shirt was untucked, so no one could see.

Hmmm, maybe I'll have to go commando...

Plumbers’ butt?

I have a few things to write about, but I'll probably not write about them all out of fatigue. Nevertheless, I feel the need to write about a trend in the English language that I despise.

We apparently need to reduce the spoken and written language to the bare minimum requirement. This has been going on for years, but my cup finally spilled over and I am sick of it. How freaking lazy are we? Back when Kentucky Fried Chicken decided to call itself KFC, I shook my head. Unfortunately, they were right for the general population. I had to hear an add a couple of times before I realized that the bank Washington Mutual decided their name was too long. Now they are called WaMu. What a bunch of HC (horse crap - trying to match the trend).

We used to be a species that prided ourselves on having the ability to express ourselves elegantly. We could elegantly express ourselves in literature and art in ways that the rest of the animal kingdom could not compare. No longer is that the case. The internet industry (yes, I realize that I am part of that) has degenerated us into a world of the least amount of energy expended. Simple things like "that cracked me up so bad I laughed out loud" have been reduced to three letters: LOL- Laugh out Loud. No one can express themselves in words of their own. I am very disgusted with the whole thing. We hopefully still treat Shakespeare with reverence who would have said something more eloquent:

sdksdoifydhdidhn

Alright, I am too tired and cranky to put the time into iambic pentameter. Maybe that is the whole thing. We are too tired and lazy. Notice that Shakespeare only wrote in traditional rhyme when the more baser representatives of society were speaking. Maybe that is me.


Another note: I had a good talk tonight with a friend from work. I'll keep this brief, but it cracks me up. This is not mine, but the originator would not be pleased if I used his/her name publicly. He commented briefly about people being Single Unhappy Nerds. I actually didn't get it at first. After he commented on the acronym I busted out laughing. It may not be everybody at Sun, but it is certainly a lot of us.

I think I need to laugh about that a bit longer...

Eventually we will all talk in clicks like some of the African tribal languages. Maybe it will all be just binary speak...



click, click, hmmm, click....

I have a quick gripe.

Last Sunday before I picked Annie up, I went to the mall to buy some things. One of the things I wanted to buy was a new book.

There is a store in the mall that sells nothing but ball caps. They seem to keep up a business.

However, there are no bookstores in the mall. There used to be two. I have tried to convince myself that it is because bookstores have gotten so large that they have to have a coffee shop, and places for people to read without buying anything. But, I am not sure. Libraries are dying left and right, and bookstores are becoming larger and more scarce. I find it a frightening description of society. Does no one read anymore? Maybe we are buying our books online. I don't know.

If you get the chance, read Michael Ende's The Neverending Story. It is incredible if you get it in the right format. I won't get deep into it, but it was a great book not only in the writing, but in the presentation. He describes a story that indicates the need for imagination, but the danger in letting it get carried away. Balance in everything, right? I struggle to see it today. Sometimes, Annie and I read out loud, and I encourage her to read with emotion. She gets it, and when we do it together she does a beautiful job. I tried to encourage a neighbor kid one time in this area. It was horrible. Granted, she was not interested, but I tried anyway. I went home and got my compilation of Edgar Allen Poe to coincide with something she was doing at school. I asked her to read a story. It was the most monotone and uninterested thing I'd ever heard. I think I tried some Shakespeare as well. Nothing.

We have become so engrossed in the visual media that we have lost the ability to experience the excitement that what we conjure in our own minds far exceeds what Hollywood can provide. Good book? Wait for the movie. The brain has become a motor that moves slower and slower. Images that are not instigated by a CRT or an LCD have apparently vanished. Why create it in my own mind if it will appear on its own?

It's very sad. I make Annie read every day. When she starts, she is a bit resentful, but when she finishes, she is very excited. Reading breeds independence, it breeds change, it breeds motion, it breeds change.

Don't kill the written language.
Turn it all off, and read a book...

Today was a good day. I sat in the window most of the morning, complaining to Daddy that I needed outside. He talked to me as he worked from the deck, but he never let me out. I have noticed over the past few days that he often smells like I remember the wonderful area under the house smelling. Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out how he was getting that way.

Today, however, I went looking. He was out on the computer, and I found it. There was a hole in the floor of his bathroom. How long had I missed this? I jumped down and entered my long lost kingdom. The subtle light made the spider webs glow, and the smells were wonderful. I looked at everything, rubbed on everything, and smelled everything. A couple of times, Daddy came down and lit a fire, put up some tubing, and played with melted metal. Humans are stupid. I clean myself, and I can find water outside...

I talked to him a bit, but seldom got close enough for him to grab me and banish me to the house. He didn't try, so I decided to trust him. I went to the outside access, and I found the stray cat looking around. I kept my distance. After he left, I walked around outside. The deck was great as well. Daddy was out working on the computer, and I decided to say hello, and see if he was going to grab me. He didn't so I sat down to talk to him for awhile while I rubbed on stuff and sniffed some more. At one point he went inside and left the door open. I ventured in to see what was going on, and he started the fire again. I left...

Unfortunately, when he was done, he saw me and put me in the house. Jerk. Actually, I was pretty tired, so it was ok. I went back into the bathroom, and all the holes were closed. I checked every one. There were no holes large enough for me to fit. So, I went to the kitchen, sprawled out, and went to sleep. It was a good day.

Lilo the Cat Opportunist

My vacation day (yesterday) was not good. I started plumbing in the new wet wall, and it was horrible. The solder would not sweat into the joints. I knew it, but I tried it anyway, thinking maybe I was being over critical. Well, I was a bit over critical, but one joint sprayed water out all over the place. I ran into town to get some parts, and tried again. It freakin' sprayed out at the same place. It was too late to continue working on it, so I had to wait until today.

Today, however, was a new day. I bounced between plumbing and work. First change was the flux. I used paste flux, and everything worked. The solder got sucked in so well that on one sleeve a big gob hardened on the inside where a pipe was supposed to go, and I had to clean it out. I rebuilt the cold line, and it went so smoothly, I went ahead and put in the hot line. Everything is now holding. The joints even look professional. Gotta love it.

The area this all had to go was not pleasant or easy to work. Sweating joints right against wood is a bit scary. However, a few folds of aluminum foil does wonders to protect the wood. It melts fast, so you have to use several layers, but I did not set the house on fire. I am not positive that's a good thing, but well, I didn't. Plumbing under the house is not fun. I didn't plan on it being comfortable, but it is difficult to position one's self to be able to heat a joint and sweat it without having solder drip on you. I can't say I was completely successful, but my stomach and back feel like I just had a major workout.

I have also learned that like most things, plumbing does not respond well to swearing. It heats much better if coaxed to take the solder before you have to shift your position, set the house on fire, or drop something. Although, being threatened that if it doesn't work it is going to be cut out does seem to help.

By the way, the bread trick works pretty well...

Four to go...

I am a bit frustrated. Things go wrong, and I have to deal with them,

I was doing some plumbing, and turned off the gate valve. I tried to turn it back on, and it wouldn't work. I have no water.


I haven't seen my parents in a few years, and got this picture, taken by my sister. I like the picture,

however, I don't think I would know them if I saw them in public...

Bad son, bad homeowner...

That's right, there is a fire on one of the mountains. Apparently, our power comes right over that hill, and it is now off. And it is hot, damned hot. I am sitting on the deck right now in my underwear. Deal with it. I have the generator going so I can continue working, and am grateful that I spent the money on the whole-house transfer switch. It is loud as heck, but it will get us till bedtime. Then comes the problem. Annie says she has to have a nightlight, but she doesn't think she will be able to sleep with the generator going. Oh yeah, in the midst of this, the plumbing is backed up again. Annie got a little crazy with the toilet paper. Unfortunately, the starting amps for the auger don't agree with the generator, so I have to wait for the power to come back on... Still, it will be another task for the auger that will further reduce its cost! Why am I excited that the sewer is clogged? Oh well, with any luck, power will be back on in an hour or so. If not, I have the auger all set up, and it won't take but a few minutes in the morning. You have to love life in the mountains. Well, I'd better get back to configuring systems for other groups. Who knew that an EMI Design Engineer could be tasked with system configuration? Certainly not me...

Reboot...

I shouldn't write about this, but I have horrible self control when it comes to these sorts of things.

Annie and I have discussed getting another Great Dane many times. My plan was to wait until Tolkien passes. However, a month or so ago I went looking for breeders on the net. I found one that I thought was interesting, and e-mailed them. One of the breeders and I have had quite a few e-mail discussions regarding danes and pedigrees. She has educated me quite a bit, and I realize how lucky I was the first time. If I had been required to go through the current requirements for adopting a dane, I would never have had Soren in my life.

I received an e-mail yesterday from the breeders that they are re-acquiring one of their danes. He is currently about ten months old, and she wanted to let me know that they would soon be looking for a home for him. She had some questions and concerns about Annie's and my living situation, so I went on line to find her phone number. It took me a half hour, but I finally found it. We talked for quite a while, and I still feel like I am in the interview process. I could easily drive four hours to the breeder and be turned down. It took me three hours of constant thought to decide that we could do this, but our lifestyle may be incompatible to the breeders' desires. I don't think the lady that I talked to was pleased that I don't have a wife at home. Maybe I misinterpreted the "oh" and the following pause.

Unfortunately, I made the mistake of looking at his pictures on line: Mystic's Face Shot.

That's when he was three months' old, but it has an expression that I remember all too well.

Annie knows nothing about this, nor can she. We'll see how it goes. I might need to call on some of you as character references...



Sucker...

We have now completed two days of Third Grade. We rock. Well, Annie rocks. So far, so good. The teacher seems really good, and Annie likes the fact that they can whisper to each other while they are working on assignments. Also, there are points programs that can earn them trips to ice cream and pizza with the teacher if they behave and do well.



She looks way too old. You know, I look at this picture and see that she looks less and less like me with every year. That's a good thing...

It will take us some more time to make the information flow from school to Daddy. We have always had this problem at the beginning of the school year, but she seems happy. She has some good kids in the class, and some not so good kids. It's a small school. I unfortunately know most of them by now. The 'bad' ones are boys, and Annie doesn't feel comfortable around boys, so hopefully she will not be negatively influenced by them. No, Meera, I don't consider Julian one of the bad ones. By the way, he was very disappointed that he is once again in class with Annie. What is this? Five years in a row if we count pre-school?

Anyway, my angel is adjusting to the change in routine, and dealing very well...


Proud Daddy...

Last night Annie and I were sitting by the chimenea and she was fidgeting a little. The chairs and table that we have on the deck are about nine years old, and have deteriorated. I was planning on stopping somewhere and replacing them today, but after the mall expenses, I changed my mind... At any rate, when Annie was wanting something to do, I handed her a marker, and turned her loose decorating the table and chairs. They are not covered with drawings, patterns, and words. The chair Annie usually sits in now says, "Annie's Seat! Obey!" I have no idea where the 'obey' came from. The seat of my chair says, "Do not Sit! Only Daddy!"

The weirdest surge of memory happened when I read where Annie wrote "I love my Daddy and my Mommy." Apparently, she had messed up the word mommy, and corrected it by writing mommy above the scratched out word, and placed an upside down carrot (^) to show where it belonged. I felt an overwhelming urge to correct her that was frankly inappropriate given how much I loved her work and sentiment. My eyes swam momentarily, and I remembered why...

I was in second grade. The hippie/commune movement had spawned some experimentation at the school that involved taking huge rooms and separating them into quarters where each class resided. It was horrible. If a class laughed or had an outburst, all the other classes stopped what they were doing and turned to look. We had just done an exercise where we had to edit a paragraph using proper notation. Mrs. Otradovec was the teacher for this, and she yelled out in class "AND NO, DAVID, THE ARROW DOES NOT POINT DOWN FROM THE WORD!" Not only did my class look at my reddened face, but between 75 and 90 other pairs of eyes looked over given the obvious anger and disgust in her loud voice. I have never made that mistake again. Granted, I remember doing it as a conscious decision. I knew where it was supposed to go, but it just seemed wrong to me, just like it probably does to Annie. I was going to do it the way that made sense... this word goes HERE. I was so embarrassed. By her voice, you would have thought I just stood up and called her a bitch. Had I been the person I was at about 28, I would have stood up afterwards and verbally torn her to shreds. I would have made her doubt the worth of her own existence. The person I am today would have laughed out loud and asked her if she was ok. Then I would have politely informed her that there are a lot of good decaffeinated coffees on the market.

I have said it before, but it is worth repeating: I don't think most teachers/professors recognize the long-lasting impact they can have on students. It is a calling as much as entering the service of a church is. The reward and responsibility are the same piece: encouraging minds to exceed tomorrow where they are today. I don't think all teachers are cut out to stay in the profession until retirement. One of the most respectable teachers I have ever met was not a teacher when I met her. Why? Because she told me that when she started teaching, she loved it, but told herself that whenever she heard a certain three words escape her, it was probably time to do something else: Those. Darn. Kids. You can change the adjective to whatever suits you. I agree with this, and this is one of the reasons I would not be willing to return to academia until I didn't need the money. I want to be absolutely sure that I am teaching because I want to, not because I have to.

No, I didn't show Annie the mistake...


Strangely, I think I still despise that lady...