We were reading through the material sent home by the school regarding use of their computers. One of the phrases caught our attention. It said, essentially, that if your child finds anything on the internet to which you object, it's not the school's fault. I remarked that I would hope they at least have some filtering software on their PCs, and then thought that given that some people object to having such software on library PCs, they'd likely object to having it on school PCs, too.
My wife pointed out that in a library, a librarian can refuse to shelve certain books, or shelve them only in a restricted location, so it ought to logically follow that a librarian could place limits on what was accessible via other media. I said that I agreed, but that people argued that this was a restriction on their right of free speech. I went on to say that I thought that this right was an abused one, and that it had popularly become a right to say whatever you want, wherever you want, without consequence. Further, I thought that a number of people took it to mean that if you wanted to express yourself in a way that others found offensive, you did not give up the right to be paid -- that is, if your movie is offensive to me, I cannot refuse to show it; if your comedy is offensive to me, I cannot censor it. I said that I thought this was wrong -- that if you have the right to speech, it does not mean the right to unlimited speech.
To my surprise, my wife disagreed, saying that it meant exactly that, and that the owner of a medium -- the television station, the source of funds for the art show, whomever -- could not censor what was shown on their medium.
I'll have to think about that, because I respect her opinion.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Bush Flies over New Orleans
Air Force One carrying President Bush flew low over New Orleans today while bringing the President back two days early from his vacation. The president was observed to have his face pressed hard against the window as the plane flew over the devastasted area, and was heard to comment 'Man.... look how we're leaving a wake in the water. That's really cool.' Upon arrival in Washington, he promised to fly back to the city soon, noting in passing that as primary user of Air Force One, he is not affected by the current surge in oil prices. "What the heck", he said, grinning, "I might just flog it back to Crawford just to see if I left my toothbrush there."
Microburst
Its not nearly -- not even close to -- the devastation wrought in the New Orleans area, but we had our own swath of destruction last night, as what appears to have been a tornado microburst touched down in our area. Trees are uprooted, including one in our yard, and major limbs are either severed or hanging, all across the area. So far as we know, no one was hurt, and there is no major damage to houses -- though two cars had limbs fall on them.
And it didn't sound like a freight train, either -- though it did sound weird.
An interesting night.
And it didn't sound like a freight train, either -- though it did sound weird.
An interesting night.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Bush: U.S. Must Protect Iraq From Terror
(08-30) 14:05 PDT Coronado, Calif. (AP) -- President Bush on Tuesday answered growing anti-war protests with a fresh reason for American troops to continue fighting in Iraq: protection of the country's vast oil fields that he said would otherwise fall under the control of terrorist extremists.
If he'd said that going in, he likely would gotten hate mail....and then support, because we do like our oil, and we could easily convince ourselves that this would stick a thumb in the terrorist's eye.
Now, it just looks like Karl finally told him that people don't like gas prices, so its time for Hi, I'm George Bush with another of my eighty three reasons why you should support me in Iraq.....
If he'd said that going in, he likely would gotten hate mail....and then support, because we do like our oil, and we could easily convince ourselves that this would stick a thumb in the terrorist's eye.
Now, it just looks like Karl finally told him that people don't like gas prices, so its time for Hi, I'm George Bush with another of my eighty three reasons why you should support me in Iraq.....
Monday, August 29, 2005
MicroMansions
I suppose that if the policy of building many large but virtually identical mansion-like structures in one area has come to be called McMansions, then the somewhat new policy of building splendid retirement homes with all of the posh and elegance that the former offered could well be called MicroMansions. And that's what I'm seeing in our local buildings offerings for what one article called 'boomer homes'. Which happens to be a phrase I despise.
The idea is apparently to merge two concepts: the Not So Big house, which should have a decent amount of elegance per square foot, but less square feet than the alternatives, and homes that allow you to get around in a walker or wheelchair -- while sacrificing none of the posh luxury that of course you deserve in retirement. I'm not sure what to call that, so I'll stick with MMs.
One company's web site shows photographs of their offerings, and I am amazed at how luxe they are. I don't know anyone who casually places a French provincial tray with delicate wine glasses and crisps on the artfully tossed covers of the bed, and I'm startled by a room that has windows reaching high into the cathedral ceiling, and furniture covered in rich fabric, but no dividing walls into the dining room and kitchen, no steps, and wide aisleways throughout. It is all very pretty, but in a way, it seems almost sad. I'm reminded of a film that was out when I was a teen, called Wild in the Streets, where the parents are reduced to denying their aging as time passes, using more and more artifice to do so. If my home is lavish enough, then I still matter, right? Even though I'm old?
Aging happens. Aging gracefully, in a graceful environment, is fine, even desirable. But it doesn't have to mean tarting up the house with elegance d'jour, or looting the stock fund to pay for it. Simple elegance comes from integral style, clean lines, warmth and function.
And, you know, a big screen TV with Bose stereo. Yowzah!
The idea is apparently to merge two concepts: the Not So Big house, which should have a decent amount of elegance per square foot, but less square feet than the alternatives, and homes that allow you to get around in a walker or wheelchair -- while sacrificing none of the posh luxury that of course you deserve in retirement. I'm not sure what to call that, so I'll stick with MMs.
One company's web site shows photographs of their offerings, and I am amazed at how luxe they are. I don't know anyone who casually places a French provincial tray with delicate wine glasses and crisps on the artfully tossed covers of the bed, and I'm startled by a room that has windows reaching high into the cathedral ceiling, and furniture covered in rich fabric, but no dividing walls into the dining room and kitchen, no steps, and wide aisleways throughout. It is all very pretty, but in a way, it seems almost sad. I'm reminded of a film that was out when I was a teen, called Wild in the Streets, where the parents are reduced to denying their aging as time passes, using more and more artifice to do so. If my home is lavish enough, then I still matter, right? Even though I'm old?
Aging happens. Aging gracefully, in a graceful environment, is fine, even desirable. But it doesn't have to mean tarting up the house with elegance d'jour, or looting the stock fund to pay for it. Simple elegance comes from integral style, clean lines, warmth and function.
And, you know, a big screen TV with Bose stereo. Yowzah!
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Bushster strikes again
CRAWFORD, Texas (Reuters) - U.S. President George W. Bush on Sunday praised Iraq's draft constitution as a step towards full democracy and sought to play down the extent of Sunni opposition, but he predicted an upcoming referendum would spark a new wave of "atrocities."
So you-all jest stay the course there, and Ah'll jest stay the course here at the ranch, and we'll all be jest....fine.
So you-all jest stay the course there, and Ah'll jest stay the course here at the ranch, and we'll all be jest....fine.
The Value of Sacrifice
I have seen several articles of late concerning the attitudes of people toward the Iraq war.
It seems that people support the war, and the presidents actions, if they think that the war is a good idea, or if they think that they should support the president because he's the president, whether or not they support his specific actions. They don't support it if they think it's a bad idea, or if they lost a relative in it -- though not always.
One man, quoted in today's Times, said that he felt no need to burden Bush with his grief, saying that 'The man's got more important things to do than take care of me.' He went on to say that 'You have to accept it and go on with your life, and thats what she's (Cindy Sheehan) failing to realize.... I've accepted that my boy's gone and there's nothing I can do about it. Causing traffic jams in front of the president's ranch is not going to get that young lad back. Heck, if it were going to get him back, I'd be out there with her.' A woman said that she is proud of the war and her son's role in it. "I read that she (Sheehan) questioned whether her son died for a noble cause, and I totally disagree with her on that. ... Her son died for the most noble cause: human rights."
I have to admit, those thoughts gave me pause. It was easy enough for me to say that the man was right about the ineffectiveness of any action now in getting his son back, but wrong in assuming that action was therefore ineffective. But it wasn't so easy to disagree with the woman, because, though I think she's being simplistic, she did have a point. The idea of the war is noble. It's the rationale that's faulty.
It brought me back to a thought I've had more than once, and for which I don't have a simple answer: for what cause would I sacrifice my child's life? What cause could be so compelling, what leader so lucid, that I could contemplate the death of my child and say that it had been worthwhile?
Certainly not this cause. Certainly not this leader.
..
It seems that people support the war, and the presidents actions, if they think that the war is a good idea, or if they think that they should support the president because he's the president, whether or not they support his specific actions. They don't support it if they think it's a bad idea, or if they lost a relative in it -- though not always.
One man, quoted in today's Times, said that he felt no need to burden Bush with his grief, saying that 'The man's got more important things to do than take care of me.' He went on to say that 'You have to accept it and go on with your life, and thats what she's (Cindy Sheehan) failing to realize.... I've accepted that my boy's gone and there's nothing I can do about it. Causing traffic jams in front of the president's ranch is not going to get that young lad back. Heck, if it were going to get him back, I'd be out there with her.' A woman said that she is proud of the war and her son's role in it. "I read that she (Sheehan) questioned whether her son died for a noble cause, and I totally disagree with her on that. ... Her son died for the most noble cause: human rights."
I have to admit, those thoughts gave me pause. It was easy enough for me to say that the man was right about the ineffectiveness of any action now in getting his son back, but wrong in assuming that action was therefore ineffective. But it wasn't so easy to disagree with the woman, because, though I think she's being simplistic, she did have a point. The idea of the war is noble. It's the rationale that's faulty.
It brought me back to a thought I've had more than once, and for which I don't have a simple answer: for what cause would I sacrifice my child's life? What cause could be so compelling, what leader so lucid, that I could contemplate the death of my child and say that it had been worthwhile?
Certainly not this cause. Certainly not this leader.
..
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Bag the Web
Okay, lets face it, the web is useless.
All I want is to find some software, preferably free, that will read a text member and tell me what non-trivial words predominate in the text, so they can be used as keywords.
Nothing shows up in the first two pages of a Google search. Well, okay, articles about stochastic, bayesian, random multi-linear non-chaotic fivverpudlian search algorithms and the like, all of which are interesting, and a couple are even comprehensible to me. I've been interested for quite some time, in a layman's way, in the general concept of text classification, so I have a vague sense of how hard it can be to do it well. But I don't want it done well -- more accurately, I don't need it done well. What I want is something along the lines of Text Keyword Generation for Dummies.
Do I expect too much?
(You betcha.)
All I want is to find some software, preferably free, that will read a text member and tell me what non-trivial words predominate in the text, so they can be used as keywords.
Nothing shows up in the first two pages of a Google search. Well, okay, articles about stochastic, bayesian, random multi-linear non-chaotic fivverpudlian search algorithms and the like, all of which are interesting, and a couple are even comprehensible to me. I've been interested for quite some time, in a layman's way, in the general concept of text classification, so I have a vague sense of how hard it can be to do it well. But I don't want it done well -- more accurately, I don't need it done well. What I want is something along the lines of Text Keyword Generation for Dummies.
Do I expect too much?
(You betcha.)
Ways and Means
Last night, we informed my daughter that as of the start of the school year -- effectively, today -- we were making two changes to her weekly routine.
First, when she does her weekly cleanup of her room, she must clean up her materials from the kitchen table, which has morphed into being her work table. She doesn't have to clean it off, but it has to be neat. She took this information glumly.
Second, we're increasing her weekly allowance by a dollar.
She jumped from her chair, ran in a circle through the dining room, kitchen, living room, and back, three times, without stopping, laughing wildly the whole time.
I think she likes the idea.
First, when she does her weekly cleanup of her room, she must clean up her materials from the kitchen table, which has morphed into being her work table. She doesn't have to clean it off, but it has to be neat. She took this information glumly.
Second, we're increasing her weekly allowance by a dollar.
She jumped from her chair, ran in a circle through the dining room, kitchen, living room, and back, three times, without stopping, laughing wildly the whole time.
I think she likes the idea.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Note-taking software
This doesn't have all of the amazing bells and whistles that my dreamware wish list has, but its not at all bad, and the price is decent:
Twangs
I was just looking at a web site which offered the names of designers and others who are aware of, and sensitive to, the general precepts of the 'Not So Big House' concept. One caught my eye, but I couldn't imagine why -- they're not even in my state, but rather headquartered in Damariscotta, Maine. I've been to Maine several times, but never there.
And then I remembered. That's where the hospital is located in which my friend, Marion, died.
I don't think of her often, but when I do, it is frequently because I've glanced at a picture of her that I have on my wall at the office. We were in the hospital where she lived for the last full week of her life. I and her husband had brought her down to a sitting area, in a wheelchair. Moving her was a two-person operation -- I pushed the chair, and her husband manipulated the morphine IV drip and its associated paraphernalia. She asked to see a new car that he had bought, and while we were waiting for him to bring it around so that she could see it from the window, I took her picture. She is wan and drawn, leaning slightly on the arm of the wheel chair, and wearing a faded hospital gown, with a plastic barf-basin held ready on her lap. Yet she has a slight grin just the same, as she did during most of the time that I knew her. She was a sexy, smart, whimsical woman, and I miss her.
The picture is on my wall to remind me that there is more to life than work...
And then I remembered. That's where the hospital is located in which my friend, Marion, died.
I don't think of her often, but when I do, it is frequently because I've glanced at a picture of her that I have on my wall at the office. We were in the hospital where she lived for the last full week of her life. I and her husband had brought her down to a sitting area, in a wheelchair. Moving her was a two-person operation -- I pushed the chair, and her husband manipulated the morphine IV drip and its associated paraphernalia. She asked to see a new car that he had bought, and while we were waiting for him to bring it around so that she could see it from the window, I took her picture. She is wan and drawn, leaning slightly on the arm of the wheel chair, and wearing a faded hospital gown, with a plastic barf-basin held ready on her lap. Yet she has a slight grin just the same, as she did during most of the time that I knew her. She was a sexy, smart, whimsical woman, and I miss her.
The picture is on my wall to remind me that there is more to life than work...
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Dethpicable
As Daffy Duck would say. But, kidding aside, it really is. Bush is willing to be seen with a mother who supports the war in Iraq, but not with one who doesn't?
Despicable. Hardly surprising, yet despicable, none the less. The man truly has no shame.
Despicable. Hardly surprising, yet despicable, none the less. The man truly has no shame.
BSAG
This is a good blog, but what I really, really like is the title.
========
Incidentally, I had had a problem writing that prior line -- the last word kept disappearing when I posted, and when I would go back to the source, that word was gone. I discovered that apparently the child--proofing software that I'd put my my PC was eating it. When I turned off CyberSitter, the word 'girl' would stay there when I saved the post.
Weird.
========
Incidentally, I had had a problem writing that prior line -- the last word kept disappearing when I posted, and when I would go back to the source, that word was gone. I discovered that apparently the child--proofing software that I'd put my my PC was eating it. When I turned off CyberSitter, the word 'girl' would stay there when I saved the post.
Weird.
Magazines
I don't subscribe to as many magazines as I used to.Once, several years ago, we took an inventory, and we had fifteen of them coming in more-or-less every month. I've pared that some, and now we have about eight. I frequently look for more -- I'd like something that talks about applications of artificial intelligence, or gives information about medical practice (anything from how to optimize the functioning of the medical office to how do you keep up with findings in your field(s) of interest). No luck on either,but I like to hope. Until then --
MIT's Tech Review is the most likely to have an article that interests me, but about the least likely to have more than two or three of interest. The Economist is very likely to have an intriguing article (it helps that except for the two or three 'big pieces' in the back, the articles are normally about two or three columns, maximum); it has so much material that even when I skip two thirds of the issue, I still feel satisfied that I've gotten something out of it. American Scholar is an oddball, because the articles really are written for people smarter than me, but every so often they have one that is written down to my level, or is so good that it's worth puzzling out, even if I do have to read verrrryyy slowly. (Its from the Phi Beta Kappa society, of which I am certainly not a member; one of the trivia from our Williamsburg jaunt was that PBK was started at Williamsburg.)
Some magazines started coming as part of school fund-raisers. I like Real Simple, which I think of as 'Martha Stewart-less Living'; its aimed at women, but much of the information is generally useful. Family Handyman and Kiplinger also come our way via a school fund drive; I don't really care for FH, since their idea of 'simple construction' or 'simple repair' has gotten progressively more involved over the years; it may be simple from professional standards, but for me, the classic weekend warrior, it can be tough stuff. Kiplinger is a money management magazine that always manages to have something of interest -- I find myself folding pages over 'to reread some day', pretty often.
We also get CSO magazine and Health Management Technology, which are both freebie mags aimed at enterprise security and medical tools and practices, and we just started Inspired House, a house designs mag, which is good, though not at good as I thought it would be.
The last actual magazine we get also came into the house via a school fund raiser -- Wired Magazine. I slot that as conceptually similar to Tech Review, because the odds are good that it will have at least one article that is interesting, even though you do have to work your way past the breathless prose to find it. Wired's aimed, I think, at the 22-30 market; people who think that upgrading to new pda's, phones, and pc's should happen routinely, and who can easily see themselves building a thirty foot robot in their basement ( even if they don't have a basement, and wouldn't if they did). Sort of the Huck Finn view of the world -- I could (build the robot/reprogram my TV's remote control/digitize all my photographs/bone up on Linux) but instead I think I'll take a nap.
This issue has a couple of (predictably breathless) articles - one, about how the Yahoo! site will become the nexus of all forms of video information, totally searchable, infinitely retrievable. And there's an interview with Jon Stewart which is funny and has some interesting insights into the future of television.
Whuff....I'm tired. Think I'll go take a nap.
MIT's Tech Review is the most likely to have an article that interests me, but about the least likely to have more than two or three of interest. The Economist is very likely to have an intriguing article (it helps that except for the two or three 'big pieces' in the back, the articles are normally about two or three columns, maximum); it has so much material that even when I skip two thirds of the issue, I still feel satisfied that I've gotten something out of it. American Scholar is an oddball, because the articles really are written for people smarter than me, but every so often they have one that is written down to my level, or is so good that it's worth puzzling out, even if I do have to read verrrryyy slowly. (Its from the Phi Beta Kappa society, of which I am certainly not a member; one of the trivia from our Williamsburg jaunt was that PBK was started at Williamsburg.)
Some magazines started coming as part of school fund-raisers. I like Real Simple, which I think of as 'Martha Stewart-less Living'; its aimed at women, but much of the information is generally useful. Family Handyman and Kiplinger also come our way via a school fund drive; I don't really care for FH, since their idea of 'simple construction' or 'simple repair' has gotten progressively more involved over the years; it may be simple from professional standards, but for me, the classic weekend warrior, it can be tough stuff. Kiplinger is a money management magazine that always manages to have something of interest -- I find myself folding pages over 'to reread some day', pretty often.
We also get CSO magazine and Health Management Technology, which are both freebie mags aimed at enterprise security and medical tools and practices, and we just started Inspired House, a house designs mag, which is good, though not at good as I thought it would be.
The last actual magazine we get also came into the house via a school fund raiser -- Wired Magazine. I slot that as conceptually similar to Tech Review, because the odds are good that it will have at least one article that is interesting, even though you do have to work your way past the breathless prose to find it. Wired's aimed, I think, at the 22-30 market; people who think that upgrading to new pda's, phones, and pc's should happen routinely, and who can easily see themselves building a thirty foot robot in their basement ( even if they don't have a basement, and wouldn't if they did). Sort of the Huck Finn view of the world -- I could (build the robot/reprogram my TV's remote control/digitize all my photographs/bone up on Linux) but instead I think I'll take a nap.
This issue has a couple of (predictably breathless) articles - one, about how the Yahoo! site will become the nexus of all forms of video information, totally searchable, infinitely retrievable. And there's an interview with Jon Stewart which is funny and has some interesting insights into the future of television.
Whuff....I'm tired. Think I'll go take a nap.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Pizza
I made this dough this evening for the first time, and it turned out pretty well -
1 cup warm water... .2 T Honey............½ tsp salt
2 T yeast...................3 ½ Cups Flour...¼ cup olive oil
Combine water, honey, salt, yeast, 1 cup flour; mix well.
Add olive oil and remaining flour, mix until a ball forms.
Put on floured counter, knead for 5 minutes
Put in covered container in warm place, let rise for 90 minutes
Punch down, let rise again for 45-60 minutes.
Preheat oven to 475; if using pizza stone, put it in the oven.
Divide into two parts, flatten each into thick disk.
Flatten each disk to about 8 inches wide and ¼ inch thick (rim should be thicker)
Just before baking, apply toppings
Bake for 12-15 minutes
1 cup warm water... .2 T Honey............½ tsp salt
2 T yeast...................3 ½ Cups Flour...¼ cup olive oil
Combine water, honey, salt, yeast, 1 cup flour; mix well.
Add olive oil and remaining flour, mix until a ball forms.
Put on floured counter, knead for 5 minutes
Put in covered container in warm place, let rise for 90 minutes
Punch down, let rise again for 45-60 minutes.
Preheat oven to 475; if using pizza stone, put it in the oven.
Divide into two parts, flatten each into thick disk.
Flatten each disk to about 8 inches wide and ¼ inch thick (rim should be thicker)
Just before baking, apply toppings
Bake for 12-15 minutes
Sitting Like The Sultan
I am, at the moment, sitting like the Sultan of Oompapamowmow, to lift a personage from a commercial of John O'Hurley's that I like very much. The commercial, which is for Drive Insurance, has the character talking in a proud manner about how well his insurance company treats him, remarking at the end that 'they treat him like the Sultan of Oompapamowmow' (or however the country would be pronounced). I liked the title so much that on our recent vacation to Williamsburg, I used it repeatedly when I was happy about something, to the point that my daughter informed me that it was okay for me to be the Sultan on the trip, but once we were home, I would not be the Sultan. Which I thought was fair.
The reason, incidentally, that I am sitting as the Sultan is that I am in a comfortable chair, playing with the laptop, while the cleaning crew swirls around me. And in a few moments, my personal chef will prepare lunch for me. How Sultanish is that?
The playing with the laptop involved downloading Firefox again. I had tried it a few releases ago, and thought it was okay, though not phenomenally better than IE, and in one respect, it was not as good. Alas, that one respect, though minor, happened to be something that I really like to be able to do, and IE lets me, whereas FF does not. But I was reading about some plugins that are available for FF, and thought I would give the product another shot. Anything that negatively affects the hegemony of Microsoft can't be all bad.
This afternoon, we're going over to the school for an open house. Not sure what the content will be, but I like the idea of exhibiting support for my daughter as she makes the transition to middle school. She already has one change: she just found that she needs glasses. She's been complaining off and on that her vision gets blurry at distances, and this was confirmed. She's not happy about it, but we made a strong case for why this is a Good Thing, and I think she accepts it. But either way, the transition to middle school is a moderately big step for her, so we want her to know that we're behind her.
The reason, incidentally, that I am sitting as the Sultan is that I am in a comfortable chair, playing with the laptop, while the cleaning crew swirls around me. And in a few moments, my personal chef will prepare lunch for me. How Sultanish is that?
The playing with the laptop involved downloading Firefox again. I had tried it a few releases ago, and thought it was okay, though not phenomenally better than IE, and in one respect, it was not as good. Alas, that one respect, though minor, happened to be something that I really like to be able to do, and IE lets me, whereas FF does not. But I was reading about some plugins that are available for FF, and thought I would give the product another shot. Anything that negatively affects the hegemony of Microsoft can't be all bad.
This afternoon, we're going over to the school for an open house. Not sure what the content will be, but I like the idea of exhibiting support for my daughter as she makes the transition to middle school. She already has one change: she just found that she needs glasses. She's been complaining off and on that her vision gets blurry at distances, and this was confirmed. She's not happy about it, but we made a strong case for why this is a Good Thing, and I think she accepts it. But either way, the transition to middle school is a moderately big step for her, so we want her to know that we're behind her.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Vacation, Continued
We're back, and to my amazement, I'm glad that we went.
Don't get me wrong, any time that we go on vacation, I'm always glad that we go, but whenever we get back, there's this large THUMP as we get back into the normal swing of things, especially if the day we get back is the day before we have to go back to work. Didn't happen this time, for two reasons:
We took two weeks off instead of just one.
We left in the middle of the first week and came back in the middle of the second week.
So although we have the normal tons of laundry to do, bills to pay, and all of that, there isn't the overhanging nimbus of doom saying You have to go back to work tomorrow. This is a good thing.
The vacation was good for another reason. I got the time to think about what I want to do with my job and, to a certain extent, the rest of my life. I am not good at all about thinking on things like that. When I try, I get into a tight loop very quickly, and get frustrated very shortly thereafter. I can read as many self help articles and books as I like (and I have read a couple, from time to time) but I can never make the conceptual jump to all-seeing clarity. I have to struggle just to get a basic concept.
Fire. Should not stick...something....hand....should not stick hand in fire.
Anything beyond that is beyond me. So although I was 'thinking' about my job and what I want to do - stay, retire, change jobs - while we were in Williamsburg, I wasn't actively doing so. Mostly, I was thinking about the intense heat (average temp at 2PM: 96 degrees Fahrenheit), the price of gasoline, and if there was any place to sit down, preferably indoors, preferably cool. What that localized fixation did, in some weird way, was to 'center' me, to use a buzzphrase I've heard. I didn't think about work. I didn't think about the house we want to build. I just thought about the historical recreators, all but one of whom were good (at Williamsburg, they do this all the time) and the material that they were presenting. Much of it was interesting, and some was captivating - we actually went to one venue three times and heard three different people present the same material. One was a good, if simple, presentation of Colonial politics, one was a erudite discussion of the political and military forces involved and why the British governor did what he did, and one was an astoundingly good mix -- the man was by turns, fiery, humourous, and thoughtful, and above all, passionate and accomplished.
I thought about these people, and how they were doing something that was important to them. I don't know what they get paid (most of them are paid, a few are volunteers), but I doubt it was much. And yet they did it, tramping around in the heat, having casual conversations where you could overhear them, talking about the British and what the news was from Boston, and the outbreak of illness at Jamestown. I didn't draw great, weighty conclusions from it, and there were still plenty of times when I 'came back to reality', but every so often, I was just in a place surrounded by people who loved what they were doing. It was a novel experience, but, as it turns out, not the only one that I would have this week.
After leaving Williamsburg, we spent two days visiting with my wife's cousin, her husband, and their four children. Three of the four are adopted, one is a foster child that they'd like to adopt. Cute kids, too, from the oldest, a young girl from India, to the next two (an eight year old girl from China, a ytounger boy from Korea) to the youngest (a small bright eyed American boy who can run like the wind). The parents are, each of them, bright and interesting. They’re also deeply religious. They speak easily about God guiding their lives, and how they trust that He will look after them and help them when they need it.. Soon, this may not be just a theoretical observation.
The husband, who is a computer scientist, is taking night courses so that he can be certified as a minister in their church. I don't know if that event will mean that he will have to give up his job, but I do know that it will mean, most likely, that they will have to move from their charming home to wherever a parish needs him. They were obviously concerned about the financial impact of any potential move, and they were doing what they could to prepare for it should it come to pass, but they weren't consumed by it, the way that I can be consumed in thinking about retirement and finances. They really believed that if they did their best, they would get aid when they needed it. They said this simply, almost matter-of-factly.
In most cases, this would creep me out, big time. I don't like people who are that comfortable with religion. I feel as if when they talk about it, they are trying to one-up me, pitying me in their hearts because I clearly don't see the Light. They make me nervous, and I usually nod and smile and edge away when their paths cross mine. I don't want to give them an inch because I'm afraid they'll try to Save me, and I let almost no one that close to me.
I was more than a little surprised to find myself very comfortable, most of the time, with this family. I didn't go to church with them, and when they formed a hand-holding ring to say grace before dinner, I was about ten feet away, but I didn't feel threatened by it, as I usually do. In fact, I felt just a bit honored that they felt comfortable doing that while I was there. I know that they didn't even think about me or the effect on me - they just did it, as naturally as washing their hands or asking for the salt to be passed. Just a little bit, I envied them that surety.
I thought about that mixture of things -- the recreators and the religious people; people who do what they love and believe in; people who can be both intelligent and deeply religious -- off and on, all the way home.
Don't get me wrong, any time that we go on vacation, I'm always glad that we go, but whenever we get back, there's this large THUMP as we get back into the normal swing of things, especially if the day we get back is the day before we have to go back to work. Didn't happen this time, for two reasons:
We took two weeks off instead of just one.
We left in the middle of the first week and came back in the middle of the second week.
So although we have the normal tons of laundry to do, bills to pay, and all of that, there isn't the overhanging nimbus of doom saying You have to go back to work tomorrow. This is a good thing.
The vacation was good for another reason. I got the time to think about what I want to do with my job and, to a certain extent, the rest of my life. I am not good at all about thinking on things like that. When I try, I get into a tight loop very quickly, and get frustrated very shortly thereafter. I can read as many self help articles and books as I like (and I have read a couple, from time to time) but I can never make the conceptual jump to all-seeing clarity. I have to struggle just to get a basic concept.
Fire. Should not stick...something....hand....should not stick hand in fire.
Anything beyond that is beyond me. So although I was 'thinking' about my job and what I want to do - stay, retire, change jobs - while we were in Williamsburg, I wasn't actively doing so. Mostly, I was thinking about the intense heat (average temp at 2PM: 96 degrees Fahrenheit), the price of gasoline, and if there was any place to sit down, preferably indoors, preferably cool. What that localized fixation did, in some weird way, was to 'center' me, to use a buzzphrase I've heard. I didn't think about work. I didn't think about the house we want to build. I just thought about the historical recreators, all but one of whom were good (at Williamsburg, they do this all the time) and the material that they were presenting. Much of it was interesting, and some was captivating - we actually went to one venue three times and heard three different people present the same material. One was a good, if simple, presentation of Colonial politics, one was a erudite discussion of the political and military forces involved and why the British governor did what he did, and one was an astoundingly good mix -- the man was by turns, fiery, humourous, and thoughtful, and above all, passionate and accomplished.
I thought about these people, and how they were doing something that was important to them. I don't know what they get paid (most of them are paid, a few are volunteers), but I doubt it was much. And yet they did it, tramping around in the heat, having casual conversations where you could overhear them, talking about the British and what the news was from Boston, and the outbreak of illness at Jamestown. I didn't draw great, weighty conclusions from it, and there were still plenty of times when I 'came back to reality', but every so often, I was just in a place surrounded by people who loved what they were doing. It was a novel experience, but, as it turns out, not the only one that I would have this week.
After leaving Williamsburg, we spent two days visiting with my wife's cousin, her husband, and their four children. Three of the four are adopted, one is a foster child that they'd like to adopt. Cute kids, too, from the oldest, a young girl from India, to the next two (an eight year old girl from China, a ytounger boy from Korea) to the youngest (a small bright eyed American boy who can run like the wind). The parents are, each of them, bright and interesting. They’re also deeply religious. They speak easily about God guiding their lives, and how they trust that He will look after them and help them when they need it.. Soon, this may not be just a theoretical observation.
The husband, who is a computer scientist, is taking night courses so that he can be certified as a minister in their church. I don't know if that event will mean that he will have to give up his job, but I do know that it will mean, most likely, that they will have to move from their charming home to wherever a parish needs him. They were obviously concerned about the financial impact of any potential move, and they were doing what they could to prepare for it should it come to pass, but they weren't consumed by it, the way that I can be consumed in thinking about retirement and finances. They really believed that if they did their best, they would get aid when they needed it. They said this simply, almost matter-of-factly.
In most cases, this would creep me out, big time. I don't like people who are that comfortable with religion. I feel as if when they talk about it, they are trying to one-up me, pitying me in their hearts because I clearly don't see the Light. They make me nervous, and I usually nod and smile and edge away when their paths cross mine. I don't want to give them an inch because I'm afraid they'll try to Save me, and I let almost no one that close to me.
I was more than a little surprised to find myself very comfortable, most of the time, with this family. I didn't go to church with them, and when they formed a hand-holding ring to say grace before dinner, I was about ten feet away, but I didn't feel threatened by it, as I usually do. In fact, I felt just a bit honored that they felt comfortable doing that while I was there. I know that they didn't even think about me or the effect on me - they just did it, as naturally as washing their hands or asking for the salt to be passed. Just a little bit, I envied them that surety.
I thought about that mixture of things -- the recreators and the religious people; people who do what they love and believe in; people who can be both intelligent and deeply religious -- off and on, all the way home.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Opinions
I find that the older I get, the more I am likely to become quietly (and sometimes, not so quietly) angry about bad service. And its taking less to make me think that service is bad, too.
I know that I'm pickier than warranted, most times. And I know that overall you have to pay more to get the same level of service as was common a decade ago. On the other hand --
I've been a member of a specific credit union for over 25 years. I knew them when they had one branch, and you knew most of the people there. Now they're big time, and though they aren't huge as banking setups go, they're way bigger than they used to be. Its been ten years since they started charging for things they used to do for free, and dropping things that they used to do which never made money for them.
So I shouldn't have been surprised when, after an account funds transfer to cover a larger than normal level of check writing, it turned out that the transfer seems not to have worked, and they charged me for an overdraft. I didn't like it, I didn't understand it, but I wasn't all that surprised.
But when they charged me that fee, transferred the exact amount, got another check, charged me another fee, transferred another exact amount, got another check, charged me... then I lost it. Wrote them a furious email, copied the new CEO (who'd been so unwise as to send out his email address, even if he personally never looked at it). Taking my money out of your damn bank, you bandits ! And its not a trivial sum, either, though relative to their total deposits, probably not much to cough over, either.
I got a call, asking if I'd like to talk about it.
Hmm.... rage? Cutting off my nose to spite my face? (My wife still has an account there, and it can be awfully convenient at times.)
Not sure. Think I'll go take a four day trip to Williamsburg and mull it over.
Back in a few days.
I know that I'm pickier than warranted, most times. And I know that overall you have to pay more to get the same level of service as was common a decade ago. On the other hand --
I've been a member of a specific credit union for over 25 years. I knew them when they had one branch, and you knew most of the people there. Now they're big time, and though they aren't huge as banking setups go, they're way bigger than they used to be. Its been ten years since they started charging for things they used to do for free, and dropping things that they used to do which never made money for them.
So I shouldn't have been surprised when, after an account funds transfer to cover a larger than normal level of check writing, it turned out that the transfer seems not to have worked, and they charged me for an overdraft. I didn't like it, I didn't understand it, but I wasn't all that surprised.
But when they charged me that fee, transferred the exact amount, got another check, charged me another fee, transferred another exact amount, got another check, charged me... then I lost it. Wrote them a furious email, copied the new CEO (who'd been so unwise as to send out his email address, even if he personally never looked at it). Taking my money out of your damn bank, you bandits ! And its not a trivial sum, either, though relative to their total deposits, probably not much to cough over, either.
I got a call, asking if I'd like to talk about it.
Hmm.... rage? Cutting off my nose to spite my face? (My wife still has an account there, and it can be awfully convenient at times.)
Not sure. Think I'll go take a four day trip to Williamsburg and mull it over.
Back in a few days.
Sitting in a Rowboat, Watching Tugboats
is not what port scanning is all about.
Ports are how your computer talks to the world, and the world talks to it. Since its how punks can get in, too, port scanners can tell you if your ports are open to anyone strolling by.
A nifty little free port scanner is located here, on a site called HackerWatch.Org. It seems to be anti-hackers (hackers in the evil sense, not the creative genius burn the midnight oil to produce technical wizardry sense). I think that they're legit, though I don't know -- I've thought for some time that if I was a black hat , I'd write free software to check for virii and such, using them as a sneaky way of getting my own stuff into people's systems.
Not suggesting that happens here, just being mildly malicious....
Ports are how your computer talks to the world, and the world talks to it. Since its how punks can get in, too, port scanners can tell you if your ports are open to anyone strolling by.
A nifty little free port scanner is located here, on a site called HackerWatch.Org. It seems to be anti-hackers (hackers in the evil sense, not the creative genius burn the midnight oil to produce technical wizardry sense). I think that they're legit, though I don't know -- I've thought for some time that if I was a black hat , I'd write free software to check for virii and such, using them as a sneaky way of getting my own stuff into people's systems.
Not suggesting that happens here, just being mildly malicious....
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