Walls come tumbling down

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August 2002

August 31st 2002 12:00CDT

Natzoid and the kids have just left for Illinois for a couple of days. So I am home alone, well, not exactly alone. I have the dogs to keep me company. So what am I going to do with all this time on my hands? Head off down to the local bar and drink away this week's pay-cheque? Invite a bunch of friends around for a big party? Crank up the DVD and watch Clint Eastwood movies all weekend? Order in pizza and let it drip down my shirt while I smoke and drink myself to death? Answer: none of the above.

I'm actually going to spend the time writing some PHP code. Sadly, you will never see it as it's all behind the scenes stuff and mostly it does nothing for you, but an awful lot for me. One day, you may well be able to use it too. Isn't that very mysterious?

Today is a bit of a sad day for me. It's the 17th anniversary of my grandfather's death at 14:00CDT today. I still remember the phone call, ensuing panic and the next week where reality bit me and I, in my own usual fashion, tried hard to beat reality away with numerous beverages of an alcoholic nature. As Homer Simpson says "Beer, the cause of and solution to all of life's problems".

So rather than dwell on the sadness, rather than cracking a beer at noon, rather than the endless opportunities for other activities, I'm going to take advantage of the rare silence and write some code.

August 25th 2002 18:30CDT

Great discoveries often come in three's and I have proved the rule by induction, not in the true mathematical sense. Actually, I've learned a boat load this weekend. I've discovered that Linux has come an awfully long way since the early days. I've discovered that Redhat might have a future (bye-bye Caldera et al). I've remembered why I haven't used Netscape since 1993 (utterly worthless pile of sterile donkey j**m). I have managed to get Apache to work in http and https mode.

An awful discovery is that all the browsers shipped with Redhat 7.2 display my blog with varying levels of competency...so I apologize to all Linux users out there; I will fix it when I have a spare decade. Most of the browsers are truly awful. But there is hope...Konquerer seems to have promise. Oh, and the font distribution with Linux sucks too.

The other discovery is Joni Mitchell. Why is that I could have spent 33 years listening to this? I have missed out on so much. My dad only discovered Bob Dylan in the late eighties. I discover Joni Mitchell in 2002 (much to Natzoid's chagrin). Now that is some serious drinking music. I so wish I had known about this in my youth. It's not that I went without good drinking music of every kind; Macc Lads for raucous, Lou Reed for melancholy and Roy Harper for hippy-dom. I'm just sure that adding a little Joni Mitchell into the mix would have spawned some other experiences (probably leading to greater failure to comply with the norm and rendering me unemployable and destitute). Anyway, you should all (at the risk of you suffering the same fate as me), rush out and buy her greatest hits to at least get a feel for it.

All together now "woke up, it was a Chelsea morning"...I just hope that she's not talking about London. If she is and you're about to tell me, I offer you a "lalalalala I can't hear you".I know it's Chelsea Montana or somewhere. Please don't disillusion me...

August 24th 2002 08:00CDT

Falling asleep on a Friday evening is becoming too much of a habit. However it does have some benefits. I woke up to what is may favorite sight...the back of our house faces East and the sunrise heralds some of the most beautiful light, filtered and dappled by the maple tree...

A digital camera cannot do this justice. The orange glow and the splintered light make the whole room radiate comfort. Even in the thick of winter, that perfect spectrum of light can be seen as dawn breaks. I used to think my sleeping habits were dictated by my work schedule but I think in reality, I just love that room (and the basement's take on that light) so much that I awake just to absorb that beauty. It's a shame that the rest of the family usually miss the daily light show. Then again, I'm sure dusk is just as beautiful out of the front of the house (but I'm usually zonked by then). I will try to capture it this evening.

I've been messing around with digital video at work and think I have fallen in love with yet another geeky process that will consume an awful lot of time and money. If only I had a spare $500, life would be fantastic.

It's late August and it's sad that summer is about to depart; I love it and it's been too short. This year has been sub-optimal however in that it's either been too wet (which has drowned a lot of my plants) or it has been too dry (which has scorched or parched them) while I've been on extended travel. As I've said before, I have big plans for next year. Watch this space.

If we're lucky we have another month of decent weather before the depressing fall that heralds the start of the six month tundra and my questioning why on earth we live in the Midwest. Given my employers' stock price currently values us at below asset value, perhaps some kind of acquisition by a company based out of, say, San Diego may be in order? I can dream.

It's going to be a beautiful day. And I'm going to enjoy the products of my labor and the elements that conspire to produce things as perfect as this.

August 21st 2002 21:50CDT

So, the mouse that I so dreaded might be real is real. I had hoped Natzoid's imagination was working overtime but it isn't so. It has been sighted, whiskers and all. One of the blogs I link to (a guy who I think is English but is living in Melbourne, which is Australia for those who automatically think Florida) has a very entertaining description of first mice and then a rat encroaching upon his humble abode. I can find no humor in this. I hate them and their rodent arses.

My loathing of rodents stems from an incident at junior school in England. I'm not sure whether this event ever happened but the memory seems too vivid to be wrong. We used to store all the PE equipment (mats and the like) under the stage in the main hall at junior school and of course, the kids got the equipment out and put it away.

My junior school was a very old building that was built next to a BICC factory that was dull and grey and sprawling. When I was a kid, that place looked like a prison to me, and it probably was to those who toiled there. The walls between the school yard (where we would play cricket with a plastic ball) and the BICC premises were tall and if a ball went over the wall, someone had to climb it to retrieve the ball which resulted in a cane were they to be caught. The outer walls of the yard that didn't border BICC were dividing walls between the yard and what I seem to recall was a car-park; the tops of them had cement with embedded broken glass so as to discourage any intruders (or maybe even escapees).

Don't get me wrong, as schools go, it was a very good one for the area that I lived in, just not in the nicest of places. In fact, with my mother being a teacher, she singled it out as being the best school and enrolled me and my brother there even though it meant she had an extra two hours of bus-rides to work every day when she could have just dropped us off at a school that was within walking distance from my childhood home. At that time, my dad was working shifts and was the only parent who could drive so the bulk of the work fell on my mum. I couldn't have done what she did - up at the crack of dawn, drop us off at nursery or school, teach for a day, come home via our school on the bus and then feed us, play etc to be greeted with a pile of marking and preparation once we had gone to bed. True 20 hour days. And you wonder why I never wanted to be a teacher. Thankless existence.

Anyway, back to the point. One day, while putting away the mats after gymnastics, I was under that dim stage where my self-confidence had been built up over a number of years and shot down in a matter of minutes, some form of rodent fell on my head. I don't know whether it was a mouse or a rat - I didn't really get an good eyeball of it. Maybe the fact that I didn't look it in the eye is why I am so petrified of the little beasts. I am the stereotypical Olive-Oyl, stood atop a chair screaming with my broom whenever I think there is anything rodenty around.

While at university, I had some infestations in various rented houses including mice, slugs and snails. I can handle the slugs and the snails but I still freak at the thought of something small and furry. Maybe that is why I hate small dogs and cats. That is why I have big dogs.

And so the question of the day, why can my dogs fight each other violently if one has even sniffed some food that the others haven't and yet, there's a moose loose aboot this hoose and they haven't caught the little bastard yet?

I'm off for poison and any inhumane mouse killing device I can find tomorrow. That git will die.

PS - Basement flooded again.

August 18th 2002 12:00CDT

OMG, now this is getting scary! Again...

role:         Takta.net Registry
address:      Takta Co.
address:      #14,
address:      Mollasadra Ave.
address:      Chamran Express Way
address:      Tehran
address:      IRAN

And I've also had a hit from http://www.taliban-news.com so I demand a National Guard platoon be stationed at either end of the street. I will not be feeding my extremely HUGE dogs for a while, just in case some Jihad-obsessed despot decides they would like to visit me in person. And if they do, they'd better get here within the next week or so before it starts snowing. Not because it's cold, but because my dogs will be starting to fatten themselves for the winter. And if any of you from taliban-news actually read this, you'd better believe that we, in America, read your columns daily...they're a scream...your imaginations are something to behold. Brrr, getting a little cold in here - time to throw another copy of the Koran on the old pyre, and while I'm at it, maybe a bible or two.

Once I cross the threshold that is the garage door entrance, I switch languages. I change from my usual English American (you'll note that's not American English) to a language that is indigenous to and restricted to the confines of these four walls. The language doesn't have a name per se but for the sake of argument, let's call it Beanesian. It's not baby-talk as some would think, it's a language in its own right. What I initially incorrectly perceived to be an attempt to be 'what are you doing' is not that at all. 'What doonin' is a salutation. It's comparable with 'what's happening?'. It is a wonderful construction that melds English, American and a touch of Geordie.

I don't really remember much of my childhood, although I do have a vague memory of being lost on a beach somewhere in Devon or Cornwall, but I do remember sitting my O levels at the age of 16. The dilemma was what to do at A level. I had always hated English as a subject. Having a mother who was an English teacher didn't help. I insisted that I would pass my O levels in language and literature under my own steam and without any assistance. I remember being sat in my bedroom reading 'Ode on a Grecian Urn' and shouting 'You're talking bollocks again John'. And around that time of my life, you wouldn't have wanted to engage me in a conversation about Shakespeare. It's not that I didn't enjoy it, it's just that I don't have that capacity to interpret hidden messages. Getting me to extract the meaning of a metaphor is quite the exercise still. Natzoid will hear a song that I've listened to for years and instantly translate and extract a meaning that I wouldn't have dreamed of in a million years. Strange then, that I end up in marketing?

My problem is that I take absolutely everything at face value. I miss any implications of warning signs in dealings with people because they insist on dressing them up in some convoluted construct (which is probably why I don't understand the politics at work). Worse still, I don't understand the need for such things. Surely it's more clever to be able to articulate than to create some grand metaphor.

All that said, I've confused myself because I absolutely love cryptic crosswords. What could be more unnatural for someone who couldn't spot a metaphor if it jumped up in front of him screaming "I'm a metaphor"? Maybe the reason I like them is because it's a objective problem not a subjective one; there is a right answer. Yes that's it. That's probably why I liked discreet mathematics and hated numerical analysis and statistics.

Anyway, all that aside, in order to communicate with the Bean, you need to speak Beanesian. As with other languages, I'm not very good at it. It took me years to learn French and I can just about cope with that. I gave up trying to learn Italian after the first chapter of the book and half way through the first tape. The sad thing is, as with French, the moment I get the hang of it, it will be too late and Bean will be speaking American English or English American.

So the lesson to be learned from all this is if you ever have to communicate with me, please don't imply things or hint at a point. I can cope with words of more than one syllable as long as they say what they mean.

August 17th 2002 15:30CDT

I have been struggling with style sheets today, as can be seen from the slight green line just to the right of the picture above. I'm going to ignore it for a while. I could use blogger to do this, but I insist upon doing it myself, so much so that every time I add an entry to this, I have a checklist of things I need to do. It's more like a release than a blog entry.

The English Premiership kicked off today so I dutifully meandered over to Ananova to check out how Manchester United had done, but was distracted by the headline there. I'm not exactly what you call an emotional guy and some might say I'm not really very empathetic but week after week of reading and watching news reports on children being abducted and/or killed is taking its toll on me. I can't imagine how these parents must feel. I flit back and forth on the capital punishment issue. On balance, I think I err on the side of being pro. I'm sick of hearing about speculation as to the possibility parole for the Moors murderers. Had they been executed, their names would have been infamous enough to be remembered as the butchers that they were and not infamous for their tabloid sensationalism as they are today. I stupidly feel sorry for death-row convicts here in the US; were the situation reversed, I'm sure they wouldn't feel sorry for me. There I go again drifting between pinko liberalism and real-life pragmatism that surely dictates that what has to be done has to be done.

The older I get, the more I seem to be drifting to my father's political viewpoint. In my teens, I viewed him as being bordering on fascist. After I joined the corporate world and realized that I could make money, I started losing my left-wing attitude and it has been slowly eroded ever since, to the point that I am a mini-me of my dad (which is a bit of a laugh as he is about 6 inches shorter than I am). What is strange is that my mother's political views haven't changed that much over the years. Women seem to retain the empathy that men lose. They are more selfless, less demanding, to the extent that concern can sometimes be erroneously interpreted as a lack of practicality.

I ranted last weekend about my parents' relationship with my ex-wife; I wonder whether their stance is due to that empathy for Lori. Were I to look at this objectively (which obviously I can't), would I take the pragmatic route and say "Kenny moved to America and has a family that he is very happy with yet his daughter from his first marriage lives with a psycho neurotic bitch so we should focus our energies on her"? I'm not sure. I'm not sure I'll ever understand the whole situation and/or see a satisfactory outcome. I'm not sure my parents or my ex-wife will every really understand either. All I know is that it is not normal to scream at each other every night. My parents never did that. It is not normal to start an argument on a nightly basis and then continue it in the morning. It is not normal to look at a situation you cannot change and let it eat at you. It is not normal to pontificate about being God's gift and never do anything. It is not normal to freak out because you can't find the outfit that you want your kid to wear. It is not normal to lock your husband out of the house when his CEO is due to arrive in 10 minutes. It is not normal to insult your husband's CEO on your wedding day. It is not normal to have your university friends arrive for an evening and belittle your husband. It is not normal to prohibit watching TV in your own home. What's normal? Normal is the life I live now...in four years of being together, Natzoid and I have had about three arguments (it helps when your wife has IQ that isn't orders of magnitude away from your own), mostly to do with my behavior, but I'll own that. At least when our kids grow, they will not be subject to endless confrontation. Surely it is better that Lori be in an environment where she isn't subject to endless conflict, even if it is being directed by a psycho. At least my parents are stabilizing. "Stay together for the good of the children" - right. A bigger pile of shite I have never heard.

On a lighter note, the rest of the household are sleeping (including hounds) after their daily routines were disrupted by being woken before 9:00 this morning. Last night, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep on the sofa and couldn't be woken. At 6:30 this morning, my cell phone went (damn you Colby) and that was me awake. So I anticipate that our waking lives will once again not coincide, but be offset by around 8 hours. What this translates to is that I will be asleep by 22:00 tonight and the rest of the tribe will sleep until midday tomorrow. Good for them; if I could do it, I would.

By the way, Natzoid wrote a brilliant blog entry on Moby which she hasn't posted yet. I'm in the process of trying to convince her that it isn't too long. If she ever does, all I can say is that I agree 100%. It's beautifully accurate.

August 15th 2002 21:30CDT

Today's pet peeve is entirely selfish. There's nothing spiritual to it at all. Construction (or roadworks for those of the English persuasion). It's everywhere. The day I went to pick up the computer, I thought I'd be smart and avoid some. Fantastic idea given I've no idea how to get anywhere other than downtown, work, the airport and home. I ended up in Elk River miles from here, on the phone with Natzoid screaming that she should pull up mapquest and tell me where to go. Most frustrating, but I did learn that North of here, there is pretty much nothing (except maybe Canada). I foolishly presumed that roads ran from East to West as well as North to South - I still forget that America is big, and that sometimes, if you miss an exit, you have a good 15-20 miles before the next. In fact, it's even worse than that - if you're on a toll road and miss it, you have to come off, pay, get back on in the opposite direction, and yup, you guessed it, pay again. "But Ma'am, I was lost" doesn't work.

Minnesota is in a state of euphoria. The PGA Golf gubbins is happening in Chaska and 98 of the world's top 100 players are taking part in the tournament. Warms the cockles doesn't it? I don't even know which end of a golf bat to hold. Give me any other sport involving a bat or a cue or a racquet or a plank of wood and I will happily play it until I drop, but golf is a no-no. Apparently the prize is above $5m - luidcrous. I can understand (maybe) playing as a social thing (even though I don't) but to take it seriously beggars belief.

Thought for the day struck me while driving in to work (is that the only time I ever think?). The discussion on NPR was about whether a certain gene was responsible for the transition from no language to language. It turns out that no-one knows but there are certain genes that are definitely inhibitors if they are wrong. The theory is that it's a combination (talk about stating the bleeding obvious). Anyway, I got to thinking about an experiment that I'd read about whereby a gorilla was given a mirror to look at themselves for a period of time. After a number of months, while the little fella slept, the keeper sneaked into the cage and put lipstick on their face. When they awoke and saw their reflection, they instantly started trying to clean off the make-up. What this means is that great apes have a sense of self: the only other species known to have it other than us apes who control electrons and photons like they're our little sub-atomic servants. I'd never considered a sense of self before other than relating to humans (in adolescent philosphy), which I suppose is a bit arrogant. After I'd read the "self" in great apes, I thought I'd perform a little experiment of my own, involving three (admittedly very stupid) dogs. It was a bit of a wash-out. Attempts to draw on them, cover them in fluff, mess up their ears etc, were greeted with a lot of tail-wagging and slobbering in my ears. I proved absolutely nothing other than 3 dogs of the same age don't mature as quickly as one because the puppy factor lingers. I'll never make a scientist. Sigh.

On the amazing scale though, just being able to mess with blogs or code, or dealing with microwaves, or starting your car is controling our little electron friends which is astounding enough. I spent some time a year or so ago learning about photonics: it treats photons like they are electrons. Incredible. DWDM (Dense Wave Division Multiplexing) is so damned clever it hurts to even try to imagine the physics involved. To put this into perspective, I only really understood how a laser works about 3 years ago (so I'm stupid). For those of you that don't know, forcing an electron to leave its orbit and go to the next creates a photon as the electron leaves its prescribed orbit. Very simplistic, but that's the basis. Anyway...

I kind of understand electrons (although analogue to digital converters still baffle me) but something that splits light wavelengths and sends it down a piece of fiber is rocket-science in my book. And what's more, there are an awful lot of people who understand it. Just makes me feel really, really stupid. Duh, I can write a web-log, fix a computer, do statistics, write code (badly), be arty (that left-right brain balance can be nice) but would I have a clue how to send a signal down an optical fiber? No. So, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I put it to you that your blogger is criminally stupid and incapable of standing trial.

August 14th 2002 21:20CDT

After a conversation with our IS guys at work, started thinking about server side includes - came home and it took all of 10 minutes to get them to work, so soon, bye-bye IFRAME. That makes me happy. I'm so sad. Also realized that the font size that I was using was utterly inappropriate and corrected it. Mea Culpa.

August 13th 2002 22:00CDT

Drove into work today with Kate Bush's "The Kick Inside" blaring away (in as much it could ever blare). As I was driving in, I wondered how many times I'd bought this CD/LP (now I'm old). I remember buying that long before I had a CD player (which I seem to remember was 1989). I must have replaced it about 6 or 7 times...burglaries, break-ups and indefinite loans etc.

It got me thinking what life used to be like in the UK. In some respects, they are fond memories of good friends, excessive nights and all the things that I love about my home country (extrapolated from Lionheart, even though I have always hated the South of England). In others, it reminds of why I don't really miss it at all. I still miss the people, most notably those who I am in infrequent touch with or those that I haven't contacted in ages. Phil Bevan, step up and let me know how you're doing.

One of the major differences between here and there is the crime level. In England, wherever I lived (with the exception of my parent's house), we were burgled every 6 months. Even moving from the outskirts of Leeds to Haworth didn't put pay to the fact that there are drug addicts everywhere and they will steal your $400 VCR and sell it for $30 once they've nicked it, to fund their habit. What's more they'll sell your CDs for $.05 on the dollar. Here, in that polluted country where crime is 'rampant' and I should expect to be mugged downtown anywhere (right), nothing ever happens (touch wood). When we moved from Edina to here, we had everything boxed up and in the garage waiting for the following day. We were so tired we forgot to shut the door to the garage and you know what happened? Absolutely nothing. We have left the garage door open with the keys in the car and the window down. Still nothing. A racoon got in the garbage but no-one touched anything. So much for the crime-ridden States that my family believe is reality.

And you wonder why I will never again live in the UK. I used to think I'd retire to North Wales, but in reality if we move to Europe, it will be to Southern France or Northern Italy. I never thought I would move to the US, and to be honest, my first visits here (to NYC and Washington) really put me off the place, but I think deep-down I've always known this is where I would end up. And a great place it is too.

Anyway, as the last few weeks progress after our little corporate reshuffle, I am trying to move from being detail oriented to message oriented (great to be in marketing again). It's so difficult to move from being in a heavily technical role to being being in a 'distill this to a message' role. I love it. A challenge. Change from technical dweeb to copywriter in a month or so...I will follow.

Tired, tired, tired, so I'm off to bed.

No cheesey Kate Bush lyric tonight I think. OK, if you insist "Now starts the craft of the father". I like that because it really dawned on me with Beanie - and I'll try...

August 11th 2002 08:00CDT

Ended up drowning last night with a good French red. Woke up at 05:30 this morning feeling a lot better than yesterday. I don't mind being in a funk while I'm at work, but to waste a day at the weekend is annoying. I've finally succumbed and decided that I can't be bothered (for the moment) writing the comments field so have ripped off some YACC stuff.

Not sure what this means but it scares the hell out of me. I take it all back...this is even scarier.

I am worth exactly: $1,995,180.00 at Humanforsale.com. Right.

I've pulled down my lace and the chintz.

August 10th 2002 19:00CDT

This morning's malaise turned into a complete funk. I tried some retail therapy by taking Beanie to Costco with me where I bought a couple of pairs of CK jeans for $22 a piece, the Lord of the Rings DVD for Natzoid and a little electronic cashier's till for Beanie (complete with functional barcode reader!), but I think I was a bit too far gone. The lawn still needs mowing.

I've just listened to James and the Cold Gun and I had an urge that I haven't had for years - to drink a serious amount of whisky. Thankfully, we don't have any in the house. The last time we went back to the UK, Natzoid pointed out a bargain bottle of whisky in duty-free and was intimating that we should get it - I looked her square in the eye and said "that there is 1.5 litres of fights - we don't need that". Whisky should be reserved for New Years Eve, even though I prefer the brandy myself. Coming from a long line of boozers on both sides of my family, I really need to avoid the hard stuff. Whisky has caused some seriously unpleasant incidents in my life.

I started to think about a comments section for this to give my brain something to do rather than be so damned introspective and even created a database (really difficult, sic) but I haven't the impetus.

It won't be funny when they rattatat you down.

August 10th 2002 12:00CDT

For some reason, I'm feeling remarkably unsatisfied with everything that I do at the moment: as if it's not of a high enough standard. Whether it be blog stuff, work stuff or home stuff, I just feel like it's all remarkably below par.

I'm currently avoiding my parents. The weekly phone calls have degenerated to a level that I'm uncomfortable with. The usual format of it goes along the lines of 30 minute update as to what Lori has been up to, 30 minute update on how my ex-wife is broke and the implied lecture and then two minutes of how are Natzoid and the kids? A final smoking lecture and that's it.

When I left England, the circumstances were awful. I wasn't on speaking terms with any of my family. Things did get a little better for a while and we have visited but it's a strained situation. My ex-wife continues to blackmail my parents and they continue to let her at the cost of them knowing their other grandchild (soon to be grandchildren). Its says something that they have only seen Zoe once when we went to the UK when she was just 5 months old (and she's now 30 months) and that it took three years before I could spend a night at my parents' house. They have never seriously discussed visiting here (and they have far more disposable income than I have).

In fact, I sometimes wonder whether it's worth even trying to keep up this facade. I have this one-way communication with Lori, the awkward phone call every week, the odd one-line email. Maybe it's that I don't communicate very well (although I doubt it as I tend to say too much rather than too little - I have no internal filter when speaking so I tend to try to do everything in writing so I give myself that extra filter time). Whatever the reason, it's not satisfactory and something has to give.

I'm actually in a serious state of malaise today so I think I'll shut up before I say something else that I might regret. I'll do some housework to keep me out of trouble.

I'll send your love to Zeus, and by the time you read this...

August 8th 2002 21:00CDT

Great morning (sic). It went something along these lines. Woke up at 05:00 worrying that I might have overslept. Got up and noticed one the hounds had decided to relieve itself in my empty room. Cleaned it up and flushed it down toilet. Notice toilet has drained but there's no water coming in...hmm. Go about showering etc. Pop into main bathroom to grab something and there's water everywhere. What the...? Inform Natzoid that I am in a panic to get going and pop downstairs to get something else. Drip, drip, drip from Samantha's room (she's at her dad's for the summer). Enter Samantha's room to see pipes dripping water in her closet. Look in basement bathroom - water all over. Scream for Natzoid. Don't know anything about American plumbing. Set off for work. Phone rings.

So what, apart from gravity, is it that attracts water to our basement? We've just got the floor dry from the weekend dowsing due to rain and now this. Add to that the fact that we forgot to pay the cable bill so they cut us off (did they think to send us a letter saying we hadn't paid - no, of course not) and that I've now spent about 3 hours fiddling trying to get SecureRemote working with Windows XP and currently dripping a 5Mb patch down a piece of wet string at 48Kbps. It really does suck to be me at times.

Today's music: Barenaked Ladies

August 7th 2002 17:00CDT

I feel like I have a telephone glued to my ear. From the moment I got into the car to go to work until the moment I walked into the house, I have been on the phone. When the cell phone wasn't going, the desk phone was. There was one happy moment when neither were ringing so I almost ran to the lunch room to make a cup of tea. As soon as I had started the process, there was a page went around the building for me to pick up a certain line. I have spoken with sales people, marketing people, developers, support engineers, application engineers. Sadly, I accept this as a part of life. I anticipate spontaneous combustion if the phone in the house goes this evening.

Anyway, today's word is "quandry". I spent some time this morning (while on the phone) helping to set up an internal demo of some really nifty software that the guys in Skipton have written (mostly in their spare time). Most of the configuration was web stuff so it wasn't very taxing, but I really, really enjoyed and it got me thinking that I would love to move back to the pure software world and leave this current industry behind. The problem is that for the first time since I moved to the US, I'm enjoying my job and am comfortable with my prospects. If I moved back to the software industry, I wouldn't command anywhere near the money that I do in this industry. What a dilemma, particularly when you're short of cash.

The last job I left meant a move from working for SCO in the software world to go to a start-up in this industry which meant a 40% pay-cut. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the right time to do that. But all worked out well and I ended up with this mad set of skills that I neither wanted nor expected, which is why when these are added to software skills, I'm more valuable in this industry than the software industry. Bugger.

This morning, for some reason, I got a Kate Bush song in my head (no, I'm not gay) and picked up my CD holder on the way out of the door. Unfortunately, it didn't have the right CD in it but it did have another Kate Bush CD. I spent the drive to and from work (when not on the phone) rediscovering "The Red Shoes". A couple of dodgy tracks but some beautiful songs. "Moments of Pleasure" and "So is Love" are two of my favorite tunes ever. If you're too young to remember Kate Bush, get hold of a copy of "The Hounds of Love" or "The Sensual World" - they are well worth the expense. I used to have her full boxed-set prior to my ex-wife taking off with it. I imagine it will be a while before I get that again. And looking at Natzoid's comments, yes, it may be old man music, but I like it. You can take your young man music (and I'm looking at you Eminem) and shove it quite as far up your illiterate, worthless, useless, arrogant, pathetic, whining arse as you can. I really should be more explicit in what I mean...you might think I like Eminem. I don't. Anyway, Kate Bush doesn't exactly rock in the purist sense of the word, but she is talented.

I was thinking about implementing some kind of comment thing on this akin to Senor Conners but I haven't yet. Natzoid gave me some advice but it seemed pretty restricted to blogger so I haven't done anything with it. As per usual, rather than taking the easy way and using blogspot, I want to do this myself which will inevitably involve some PHP development. I'll enjoy it like hell when I get around to it, but it will be another lost few hours of my life. The lawn needs mowing so it might be a while.

I'm expecting to be asleep by about 21:00 this evening. I'm absolutely knackered and I have an early morning tomorrow (early mornings are getting harder and harder for me). So a couple of Boddingtons may be in order to kill the brain cells. Thank someone for booze!

August 6th 2002 21:00CDT

A bit of a weird event occurred today. Natzoid called me at work to inform me that the owner of a bar her dad frequents in Illinois had died. I had met the chap in question on only a few occasions and knew him mostly through anecdotes. In fact on one of those occasions where we did meet, I was having a small altercation with his son who I thought was being a little too friendly with Natzoid (the green-eyed monster had surfaced after a few too many Windsor and Sevens - they don't do decent imported beer or any form of wine there). As it turns out, the son was gay and I had no reason to be so obnoxious. I should have known this as Natzoid is a magnet to gay men everywhere.

The bar in question is where I first met Natzoid's parents. The sweetly engineered manouvre by Natzoid was designed to get us to meet on relatively neutral ground. The events of that night were a scream and I'll save that for later.

Anyway, so the owner of the bar died of colon cancer. But before he shuffled off his mortal coil, he was speaking with my father in law. Apparently his last discussion revolved around how much fun he had had and what he had achieved. Notably, one of the key events was that he had had an Englishman in his bar. In the Quad Cities, Englishmen are rare as are most other nationalities.

I was really touched that my going to a Midwestern bar out in the sticks was memorable to this guy. I'm sure it's nothing about me that he remembered but just that "he sounded like one of those Beatles" (which is a real insult to a Mancunian - the Beatles are from Liverpool and there is history between the two cities).

The sad thing about this is that the guy in question was very much of my mind when it comes to doctors. He didn't go to the doctor soon enough and paid the price (and was 2 years younger than my father in law who has recently become a born-again doctor's patient having spent years avoiding them). I should learn a lesson here. I still haven't been to the quack's since my Binghamton chest incident. I know I should but I hate the thought.

My religious views are well documented so all I will say about Dave is "Bless him" and hope that whatever maybe after death, I hope it invloves a bar and that it's as much fun and less hard than his life.

I hope his son forgives my drunken outburst and next time we're down there, I'll make a point of going in there to say hello. I may even have a Windsor and Seven. Hopefully this time, I'll not be sworn upon kicking the daylights out of the son and maybe this time, I'll not get banned from the place.

August 5th 2002 19:00CDT

Driving home from what was a fairly fraught day at work, I was listening to that epitome of all things sane, National Public Radio. The report that got me thinking was one on the Middle East situation where Israel is flexing its muscles and a puny Palestine pretends to show resistance.

Whatever you may think of that situation, the reality is that very innocent people are suffering as is always the case with territorial and idealogical disputes. Despite the death and carnage, the actions of the Israeli government have effectively shattered the lives of the peace-loving contingent within the Arab community. One family where the father was unemployed, had their ten year old son working (earning $2 a day) by being a passenger on a reknowned road where Arabs cannot travel alone as the Israeli forces consider a single occupant in a car a suicide bomber. He basically acts as the second person in the car thereby relieving any suspiscion. My immediate thought was to ask what would would stop some religious despot from picking the kid up and blowing himself to smithereens with the kid there? After all, we're not dealing with rational people here (look at what the IRA have done - for those of you who are American and use the phrase as a tax dodge, it's not - it's the Irish Republican Army). As the good Mrs Y says, never fight wars with people who don't fear death. I forget the Arab word for martyr now (all I do know it begins with s) but to believe that your family may live through hell after your departure only to be rewarded for the next seven generations by God is more than a little perverse.

On a similar note, I heard an interview with the father of a seventeen year old kid who was top of all his classes that had acted as one of the suicide bombers. His parents had no idea he was militant and he had shown no outward signs of any impending wrong-doing. A tragedy for that family on its own. Now, add to that mix, the fact that the Israeli soldiers identified him, found his parents's home, took pictures of it and then leveled the place with explosives leaving this parents and three siblings homeless. The report concluded that even education is no way out for the Palestinian's. Violence begets violence and unless you are completely impervious to other people's feelings, this is wrong.

Here we are with good old George W Junior and Uncle Tony in the UK talking about going to war with Iraq for their lack of compliance with a UN Security Council mandate, and all the while, hell is breaking loose in other places. What exactly is there left to destroy in Iraq? Maybe Sadaam, maybe a couple of infantry divisions. Focus should be shifting from war to stepping into the mess that is the North Bank and the Gaza Strip. As I've said before, "no more".

In other news, mi amigo Dr Conners has been instructing that I must implement a file rss.xml and rid myself of frames. I looked at the rss.xml and it's suitably benign however I haven't a clue what it does. And as far as getting frames to go away, the IFRAME was the only thing I could get to work. OBJECT did nothing for me at all. Any advice on this can be sent to me on the back of a blank signed cheque made payable to me. Once I have enough money to buy an XML for Dummies or to retire (I don't mind which), I will duly comply with his requests!

A final note...I am increasingly disturbed by Natzoid's blog name. While it's not that offensive, it does seem to have heralded a great deal of hits given its lifespan thus far. I wonder how many are blog readers and how many see demonthighs and disappear into fantasy land. Shame on you all.

August 4th 2002 18:30CDT

I've just wasted what admittedly was a nasty day weather wise playing with CSS in a demo version of Dreamweaver that I have. Very interesting and frustrating although I think I have the hang of it now. Having mastered that, I'm sure that I'll be rejigging this whole blog thing in the not too distant future. So you can look forward to a more visually thrilling experience (sic).

Natzoid has started her own blog on blogspot which induced a sense of inferiority in me. Her's is all professional and nice and mine is crappy flat HTML and a couple of frames. So I need to get creative!

And yes, I will fix those nasty scroll-bars when I can work out what the hell is wrong with this program (or me).

August 4th 2002 09:30CDT

No mowing of the lawn for me today. The downpour that came last night looks like it will repeat itself later today.

The Bean slept in our bed with us again last night. I had fun playing with her this morning as we each pretended to be asleep and not wake the other. I really could have done with sleeping a little longer, but it was too much fun to be missed. What with leaving for work before she wakes up and traveling so much recently, I could hardly pass up an opportunity like that.

I have so many great plans for the garden that have fallen by the wayside thus far due to lack of time and funding. I'm going to spend this winter plotting what I'm going to do the moment it turns Spring next year. I'm sick of the dull evergreens that are Minnesota gardening and will do my utmost to remedy our garden in the near future. This time next year, this house will look a great deal different.

August 3rd 2002 17:00CDT

Having taken advantage of the generous interest-free home computer loan from my employers, we have now rectified the dead PC situation and taken delivery of a new PC. This one has a zip drive so back-ups will not only be more frequent but they will be automatic.

The classic Midwestern thunderstorms have blown through here today and we're now on a Tornado watch for the next three hours. Several inches of rain have been deposited and we're now coping with a flooded basement. The good news is that the new PC appears to function and that Windows XP has quite the assortment of great features, albeit I absolutely loathe that new user interface (reminds of a brain dead Mac) so I have switched it behave as much like Windows 2000 as possible.

August 1st 2002 06:00EDT

White rabbits, white rabbits, white rabbits.

Well, I'm back in Binghamton. Just for a couple of days so it's OK but work is hard at the moment. There is just too much to do and too little time to do it. Fortunately, I think I have developed some perspective of what I should worry about and what I shouldn't. This is largely due to the fact that I have a new manager who (using a term my mother coined for the kids in her class) is "with". It makes a really pleasant change...for the first time since moving to the US I'm actually enjoying my job and learning. Unfortunately, I am still constrained by the fact that I know too much about how everything works so am still being sucked into application engineering, hence my GPS position. The good news is that my new manager understands this and is quite adamant (no, not the guy with the stripe across his nose) that the situation be rectified.

I was meant to have written a paper for an industry conference by July 22nd. I missed the deadline and now have until August 9th.

The PC at home is still dead. I tried to take it to bits to see if I could fix it but the mechanics of consumer electronics defeated me. I couldn't even get the hard drive out of its mount. That said, I have managed to fix a problem with my HP Journada by disassembling it and messing with a few connections. It had been frustrating me for a while. It was only when Natzoid suggested that I take it to pieces that the thought even crossed my mind.

On the subject of PDAs, I won a Palm m130 by participating in an industry survey. It arrived on Tuesday. When I first looked into PDAs a couple of years ago, I took the premium route and got the Journada for the color and the Microsoft integration. Prior to that, I had been slaving with a Psion (that I loved). This new Palm is quite cute but is still inferior to my Journada in all respects. The screen size is too small, the amount of bundled software is dire. But what the hell? It was free. Natzoid has long yearned for a Palm so it's hers. It probably means that I need to fork out for software that makes my Journada talk to her Palm via IR. Now, not only can we communicate via BBSs and email, but we can IM each other via IR from opposite sides of the sofa. Now all we need is to get Zoe and Samantha a new Nokia and we'll be the first complete e-family. Well, after we get a new PC that is.

Once we do manage a new PC, I'm planning on buying a new HDD for the currently dead PC and installing Linux on it. That way, I can start to do some more development work. I have some ideas that might be worth some time and I have a room in the house that is currently empty but is slated to be my office. A Linux box, a room to myself, a desk and comfortable chair. Bliss. All I need now is a broadband connection and some time. I can dream...