For Peter's Sake

Health

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 18:46:00 +0000

In my family we've had our fair share of doctors visits lately. These things seem come in bunches. I supposed I started it all off last November, when I bashed my face in and broke off part of my tooth. Long story short, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling ill, went to the bathroom, fell or blacked out (I don't remember) and woke up in the dark wondering why my nose and mouth were bleeding, and what happened to my tooth?! Last week it was my kindergartner's turn to faceplant, which fortunately did not break any teeth, but did require a stitch in her lip. And then there have been the customary waves of cold and flu that our girls seem to bring home from every school, event, or party. Our two-year-old currently has a perpetually snotty nose and a dry, barking cough that sounds very sad in such a small body.

Despite all that drama, it hasn't been all doom and gloom. For starters, we have a great dentist, and we've all gotten to know him and his staff quite well over the last year. I now have a shiny new capped tooth in the front that looks and feels just like the old one did, and my other teeth won't need any repair in the near future. Which is great news, because we were afraid they had cracked badly when I had my crash landing, and I really wasn't looking forward to having a root canal or implant. I know no one enjoys going to the dentist, but they sure are great to have around when you need them. And at least we had dental insurance coverage at the time.

Similarly, it was nice to have a good doctor check my daughter out after she took a tumble. Becca ended up spending the whole day taking her to the dentist, a pediatrician, and the emergency room at Vanderbilt Children's. The 6+ hour wait at Vanderbilt wasn't exactly fun, and in some ways it showed a lot of what is broken with the American medical system, but it didn't make me any less grateful for it. My daughter's lip already looks a lot better, and pretty soon you'd never know it happened.

As I listened to our two-year-old hack and cough last night in bed, I thought about how not too long ago, that sort of thing would strike fear into the hearts of parents. Even in my parents' and grandparents' generation, serious illnesses were part of growing up, and they inevitably took their toll on some young children. Nowadays, I don't worry about whether she has whooping cough, or whether my kids will get the measles or polio. My kids won't even get the chicken pox like I did, because they've been vaccinated. Which isn't to say that all diseases have been fully eradicated, or that they won't get sick, and that I won't worry about them. But that mortal fear of losing a child doesn't hang over me in the same way it would a hundred years ago. The worst I am likely to experience is some lost sleep or for her to pass it on to me (both of which have probably happened by now). But I'll be okay, and so will she.

I sometimes lament the alienating and complicated way we live our modern lives. There really are some down-sides and costs with being always connected, always in a hurry, all the time. But modernity and technology have brought innumerable benefits, and for all my bemoaning our modern existence, I wouldn't turn the clock back.

The anachronistic Walkman?

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 18:44:00 +0000

Last week I watched Super 8 when it came out on disc, and kicked myself for not having gone to see it in the theater. It's one of the best movies of the year, and a lot of fun, especially for anyone who grew up in the 1980's. The film is set in the summer of 1981, and has a certain strange nostalgia for that time period. This is the era I grew up in, before cell phones, the internet, or even most video games. The main characters are filming an amateur movie on Super 8 film (hence the name), which was pretty complicated at the time, even though you could probably get a better result with a Flip camera or decent smartphone nowadays. I won't spoil the plot (seriously, you should see it) but the kids get involved in a disaster and mystery that plays out through the rest of the movie.

There's one particular scene, however, that caught my attention. In that scene a convenience store clerk doesn't notice the events going on outside because he's listening to a Sony Walkman. The moment I saw that scene my over-developed sense of detail started flashing a warning in my head. Were Walkmans around in 1981? Before the scene was over (and it's a really good scene) I had already pulled up Wikipedia to see when the Walkman was invented and when it came to the U.S. The information on the page was actually inaccurate, but it did eventually link me to a TIME magazine article about the history of the Walkman. It turns out that yes, Walkman's were introduced in the U.S. in 1980, and while they weren't immediately successful, it would be believable for a store clerk to be sporting one in the summer of 1981.

I got a kick out of how the Walkman looked when it was first introduced. The batteries were so big that they required a separate case and belt clip. But this was cutting edge technology at the time, and it really took off. Walkmans (and their imitators) were so ubiquitous when I was growing up, with over 200 million units sold worldwide, that they basically defined the 1980's as much as the Apple iPod defined the last decade.

So it turns out that there was no anachronism in Super 8 after all. Walkmans were right at home in 1981. The device changed a lot over the years, slimming down and losing the separate battery pack. Eventually Sony released versions that played CDs, mini-discs, and later mp3s as new media formats gained popularity.

But the funny thing is, there still is something of a real-life Walkman anachronism, because I learned that the old cassette tape Walkmans are still being sold to this day. The new versions are nearly half the size of the original model sported by the store clerk in the movie, and they now run on a couple tiny AAA batteries rather than the large separate battery pack. But the device lives on, produced in China instead of Japan, and there is a small but steady demand for the old school format. That may seem out of place, but the same nostalgia I felt for the era depicted in Super 8 makes me smile to see that the old style Walkman for sale.

A couple weeks ago I went down to my basement to get out some of my winters clothes. As I looked for the right box, I opened a box of stuff from when I was in high school: some year books, sports t-shirts, photos, and an old Walkman-style cassette player with a bunch of tapes. I think I'll get it out tonight, find some batteries for it, and give it a listen.

Movie recommendation

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 21:12:00 +0000

I saw Page Eight over the weekend, and it was really quite good. Good enough, in fact, to break a 10-month drought over at my oft neglected movie blog to write about it. And since it's available to view online at video.pbs.org, you should watch it too. Because it's good, and the cast is great. Really, if you put Bill Nighy, Rachel Weisz, Ralph Fiennes, and Michael Gambon together in a movie, I don't know how you can go wrong. Just make sure you watch it before December 7, because it won't be available for free after that. So go, enjoy! You'll thank me later.

The ugly side of Nissan

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 13:50:00 +0000

I like to look at cars. It's a great past-time that helps me forget that I drive a 13-year-old bucket of bolts. Right now one of my favorite cars on the road is the Nissan Maxima, which has some great lines and looks very good in gunmetal gray.

Nissan North America is based out of the Nashville area, so the cars are pretty popular here. And it seems like the company is doing a lot of things right. Nashville is one of the markets for the Nissan Leaf, the first large-scale electric car to be produced by a car company. I see them pretty often around here, and I appreciate that they aren't quite as silly looking as the Toyota Prius series. In fact, there's a lot to like about Nissan.

But I also recently realized that Nissan seems to be trying to take the ugly car award away from now-defunct Pontiac. I've gone on the record saying that the Pontiac Aztek is the ugliest car ever made, and I stand by that statement. But the new crop of Nissans have several vehicles that are pretty hideous. For example, the Quest is Nissan's minivan. It has been pretty ugly for the past few model years, looking like an over-styled vehicle attempting (and failing) to show it was cooler than its kid-hauling roots.

But just when I thought the Quest couldn't get any uglier, they introduced the 2011 model. And wow. I mean, wow. It's like they took the retired space shuttles and threw on some wheels and a coat of paint.

That's one vehicle that never should have made it past the concept car stage. And yet, it also has a decidedly antiquated appearance. Where have I seen that look before?

Ah yes, the Pontiac Transsport from the early 1990's. It was ugly then, and it is ugly now. Proof positive that Nissan is taking some of its ugly cues from Pontiac. (Also note that Pontiac's penchant for cutsey model names went back at least to 1991. Aztek with a 'k'? Transsport? Trans-sport? Get it? The horror! The horror!)

Of course, if the ugliness were confined to the minivan category, we could all pretty easily forgive Nissan. You really can't do much to make a minivan look cool anyway. But unfortunately, it doesn't stop there. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Exhibit B, the Nissan Cube:

I have a hard time explaining how much I dislike this vehicle. The funny thing is, I'm not entirely against the boxy, utilitarian look. The Scion xB sort of grew on me, and once Honda toned down the amount of plastic paneling they used on the Element, I could pretty well tolerate it. But the Cube is like a bubbly bit of 1980's science fiction that never should have hit the road. Those rounded windows like ship portholes, those bulbous bumpers and headlights, and that unforgivable wrap-around window and swinging rear door. Practical, perhaps, but just plain nauseating. This is what happens when designers run amok in the show room.

Once again, I'd be more likely to overlook these excesses if Nissan showed any signs of stopping, but alas, the latest model year has some real doozies too. Not as ugly as the Quest or the Cube, mind you, but definitely not on the right track. Take, for example, the Nissan Juke.

Even that glamour shot from Nissan can't quite hide the fact that this is a ridiculous piece of stylized rubbish. (Edmunds called it a "bionic frog.") The over-under headlights seem to hearken back to the Pontiac Aztek, which is never a good sign. The grille is absurd. And most unfortunate of all, this vehicle doesn't even have the utilitarian excuse of the Cube. It sells itself as a crossover or an SUV, but it has the interior space of a compact car.

Yet another vehicle Nissan got carried away with is the Murano CrossCabriolet. With a convoluted name like that, you know it is going to be weird looking. And you'd be right. The original Murano was a fairly sleek small SUV. It's not my style, but it's not bad. The CrossCabriolet, however, is unfortunately what you might expect from such a name. Essentially, they cut off the roof of the Murano and made it a drop top.

The thing is, I bet the CrossCabriolet could be fun to drive. Most convertibles are. But there's a reason convertibles arent' SUV's. That huge roll bar on top does nothing for style or enjoyment. And it just reminds me of the Suzuki X-90, which tried to be a little bit sports car and a little bit SUV, and failed at both.

The moral of the story? Style elements for cars should not be taken from amphibians, canceled space program vehicles, 1980's sci-fi movies, or anything made by Pontiac. Ever.

A sad day

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 03:19:00 +0000

I am in the market for a new phone.

Long story short, I walked out to my car after church, had a flat tire, and had to pump it up with a bicycle pump enough to limp home. I had pulled my phone out to call for a ride before I remembered the bicycle pump in the trunk, and set it on the trunk while I pumped up the tire. I remembered the phone just as I was pulling out into the street, and realized it had probably fallen off when I pulled out. I quickly turned around, saw the phone, parked next to it, and got out to get it.

Just in time to watch an SUV run it over.

My daughter's vote of confidence

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Tue, 13 Sep 2011 00:47:00 +0000

Daughter: Mom, how can I be a rock star when I grow up?
Wife: It takes a lot of work and practice.
Daughter: Could I be a rock climber?
Wife: Sure... Why don't you want to be a rock star anymore?
Daughter: Because it takes a lot of work.
Wife: Anything you want to be will take a lot of work. Even being a mom is hard work.
Daughter: What about being a dad?

In which I lose my wife's phone (and get it back)

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 16:37:00 +0000

Last weekend we had a small family reunion in Kentucky. We rented a beautiful old farmhouse, and had a lot of fun with family members. (If I am a halfway decent blogger, photos will soon follow.) But the vacation got off to a rocky start, because when we got to the farmhouse and wanted to call my parents to let them know we arrived, we realized that I left Becca's phone in a Wendy's in Elizabethtown. Becca had handed me her phone when she went to the restroom, and I had set it on a different table than the one we were sitting at. And then we left and drove a couple hours to the farmhouse. Yeah, that was not a happy half-hour after we realized what happened, and not one of my better moments.¹Becca's phone is an iPhone, which means it had all her passwords, account information, email information, photos, etc. Basically, I left the keys to her life in a fast-food restaurant.

Whenever I screw up, my first instinct is to hurry and try to fix it. I first tried calling the phone, to make sure we didn't have it with us, but no one answered. I then sent a text saying whoever had the phone could return it to the Wendy's where it was left, no questions asked.² My next priority was to call that Wendy's location and see if an employee picked it up. Unfortunately, we had only sporadic cell phone service, and it took us a while to get online because the rental didn't post the password to the wireless network.³ Eventually I got the phone number, found a spot out in the yard where I got a couple bars of service, took a deep breath breath, and made the call.

I asked the employee who answered the phone if they had found an iPhone in a blue-green case. She wasn't sure, so she asked the night manager. The phone at that Wendy's was sensitive enough that hear the whole conversation between the employee and the night manager. I could hear the manager asking a couple other employees if they had seen an iPhone, and my heart sank when I heard them respond that they hadn't. The night manager then got on the phone and said that they hadn't seen the phone, but that I could try calling back the next day when the day manager was there to see if he had seen anything. I hung up the phone feeling pretty rotten, and walked inside to deliver the bad news. We immediately reported the phone as lost to our carrier, and Becca started changing all her online passwords.

The only silver lining of the day was that she had just put a password on the phone the week before to keep my daughters from playing with it. We figured that would stop any casual thief from immediately accessing the data on the phone, and that it would at least buy us the time to disconnect the accounts. I planned on calling back the next morning, but I didn't dare get my hopes up. There were dozens of young people in the restaurant when we were there, and it would be easy to imagine one of them picking it up and keeping it.

However, the plot thickened the the next day when I talked to the day manager. I asked him about a phone, and he immediately said, "Yeah, we found that phone. Let me see where it is." But my elation was temporary, as I overheard the day manager question another employee about the phone. "I gave it to Matt to hold at the register," he said. "Where's Matt?" Silence. After a few moments, the day manager got back on the phone (probably unaware that I could hear the whole conversation) and said in a serious voice that they had the phone yesterday, that they were not sure where it was now, but that they were definitely going to find out. He asked me to call after 3pm during the overlap of the day and night shift, so both managers could get to the bottom of it.

During the whole weekend, the saga of the phone was a source of continual interest for all my family members. They kept asking for updates and speculating about where the phone could be and what someone might have done with it. Every time I went came back inside after making a call, they all looked at me expectantly and wanted to know exactly what they said. The news about the suspicious employee set off a new round of speculation and condemnation as they commiserated with us. But we all agreed that knowing the identity of the likely thief was better than nothing.

When I called later that day, I spoke again to the night manager. She was very embarrassed to say that three of her employees had lied to her the night before about the phone. Two of them had basically covered for "Matt," and they had already been disciplined and assigned to write essays about the importance of honesty. (I thought that was an amusing solution.) But Matt was not there that day, and he was not answering any voicemail or text messages. The night manager said she was going to go to his house after she got off work to try to get the phone back. I thanked her and told her that if the phone was there by the time we came back from our vacation, we would not press charges. We agreed for me to call back the next day, and I went back inside to report the latest turn of events.

At first, the loss of the phone it had sort of cast a pall over an otherwise cheerful vacation. But as we got closer to unraveling the mystery, it became a source of fascination and almost entertainment. We were all on pins and needles when I called the following afternoon after the night manager came on shift. The first thing she said was "We got your phone!" and I did a little dance in the yard. She repeated her apologies, and then said that Matt would probably be fired as a result. If he couldn't be trusted with a customer's phone, what about the cash register? I told her that was up to them, but that we would definitely not file a police report.

It was sort of a proud moment when I walked back in the house and announced that they had the phone. Everyone cheered, and the final shadow lifted from our cheerful weekend. The next day we drove home and stopped by the Wendy's to get the phone — and a celebratory Frosty. Becca has since reactivated the phone and was able to confirm that no information on it was accessed. So pretty much a happy ending.

Lessons learned from the whole ordeal:

Keep track of your valuables, and don't trust your unreliable husband to watch things for you.
If you have any valuable information on it, put a password on your phone. Today.
There are always a few bad apples, but most folks are good people and will help you out.
If you do something stupid like losing a phone, make sure you do damage control immediately (deactivate, change passwords, etc.).

_______________________
¹In fairness, forgetting the phone was something of a team effort. We both saw it on the table and both thought the other one would get it. But I really don't know what I was thinking when I put it in a different place than where Becca set it down.
² I actually got the idea from a family member who used psychology and tech-fu to get her stolen phone back. I don't know if it worked, but it can't have hurt.
³ In a great bit of low-tech but clever hackery, my mom actually guessed the wi-fi password and let us get the restaurant contact information. That was actually really important early on.

Photo credit: JaredEarle.

Internet authority

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 15:12:00 +0000

The other day my daughter had a bad diaper rash, and we decided to look it up online to see if we should take her to the doctor. We actually have child health reference books, but the entry wasn't particularly helpful ("consult a doctor") so we wanted more information. It occurred to me that our automatic reaction to look something up online is a quintessentially 21st Century response, and it got me thinking about sources of authority online. I made a quick mental list of the sources I trust on the internet, and I thought I'd write them down and see if anyone had other or better sources.

General Knowledge: Wikipedia. This choice can be a bit controversial, since Wikipedia is inherently vulnerable to manipulation. But if you follow the hyperlinked footnotes, you'll find that Wikipedia is a phenomenal source of information. As a long-time user and editor, I have gotten used to reading articles with a critical eye, and if it's not well-cited, I don't always rely on it. But most Wikipedia articles nowadays are pretty well referenced. Hot-button or controversial topics are always suspect, but even those articles can be useful to point you to other sources.
Movies: IMDb. The Internet Movie Database, or IMDb, is the authority on movies and television shows. . Seriously, it's one of the best things ever conceived by the interwebs.
Books: LibraryThing. There doesn't seem to be any single, definitive book website like there is for movies. But I often consult LibraryThing for reviews and information. It isn't my only book destination, however, as I also go to Goodreads and occasionally Shelfari. Both LibraryThing and Shelfari are partly owned by Amazon, which is actually an excellent source of information about books, due to its very strong recommendation engine and extensive user reviews. In fact, the only reason I don't use is more is my vague notion that the fact that Amazon is trying to sell me stuff somehow colors the content.
Health: WebMD. There are some other good sources, but I habitually go to WebMD for health-related information, like my daughter's diaper rash, or how high a fever can be before you take a child to a doctor. Other good sources include the websites of the National Institutes of Health and various respected hospitals, like the Mayo Clinic or the Cleveland Clinic.
Deals: SlickDeals. I like getting stuff for cheap, and though I check multiple sites, the best and most comprehensive site in my opinion is SlickDeals. Other people have different favorites, and if you're especially interested in a certain type of product, SlickDeals might not be the best for you. But with a huge user base and extensive forums, it has a lot to offer. If I want to buy a new computer or TV or want a coupon code, SlickDeals is my first stop.
Legal: Legal Information Institute. I know most people don't read legal stuff if they can avoid it, but the LLI is a fantastic collection of legal primary sources. It's got a good pedigree, too, since it's run by Cornell University's Law School. I use it almost daily, even though I have a subscription to WestLaw, because the LLI is easier to use for some things. And it's free. Honorable mention goes to FindLaw and Justia, and I also use Google Scholar's legal search tools.
Consumer Reviews: Amazon. As the world's largest online retailer, Amazon has consumer reviews for almost anything. The reviews are often more than just opinions—they often contain information about how to set the product up or how to tinker with it to use it for something else. Amazon wins with high quality and sheer volume. For tech devices, I also really like CNET's video reviews, and the decidedly gearhead reviews on NewEgg are also invaluable.
Cars: Edmunds. I am definitely not a car expert, but Edmunds seems to be the best site for reviews, resale values, repair advice, etc. Given my lack of expertise, however, I'm open to other suggestions.
News: National Public Radio. This is a tough choice, and I've gone back and forth on my preferred news source. The truth is that I never rely on one source for news, but if I had to pick one, it would be NPR. I listen to it in the car a lot, but in recent years the NPR website has become very good. I still ready the New York Times site frequently, as well as the BBC and my local newspaper websites. But I go to NPR first and most frequently.
Everything Else: Google.There is an awful lot of information not grouped into one of those categories above, and the easiest way to find it is just to Google it. I actually like using some other search engines, and I don't like using one dominant search engine, but I must admit that Google still is the best at finding what you need. And there is some extremely valuable tips and information buried in the thousands of bulletin boards, blogs, and other sites that make up the rest of the web.

I like all the sites, and I've used most of them for years. But if you can think of a category I totally missed, or think you have a better site than one of the ones I listed, I'm all ears.

The taste of summer

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Tue, 26 Jul 2011 13:06:00 +0000

We have a tiny patch of dirt in front of our porch that we're using as a garden. Last year it was a spectacular failure, with all but the parsley wilting or getting eaten by insects. But this year we have had an enormous yield with our tomatoes, and some decent basil as well. We only have three tomato plants, but we'll probably get several dozen tomatoes out of them during the course of the summer.

It's sort of exciting to see them ripen—it gives you a sense of anticipation and excitement that you don't get when you buy food at a store or market. The girls watch them closely and announce to us when they think the tomatoes are ripe.Yesterday Becca picked a couple for dinner, and sliced one up right after picking. It was perfectly ripe, still warm from the sun, and she said "It tasted like summer." I immediately knew what she meant.

For me, though, the real taste of summer is really good corn on the cob. I'm not a particularly huge fan corn on the cob, but I like it, and when I get a really sweet ear of corn it reminds me of grilling in the backyard when I was growing up.

One of the clients at my work brought by some ears of corn from his garden. I took them home and we had them for dinner last week. My soon-to-be kindergartener loves corn on the cob, but the 2-year-old had never had it before. She seemed to like it, though. The best part about the dinner was shucking the ears with my daughters on the front porch. They had never done that before, and their reactions were hilarious when I peeled back the husk and they recognized what was inside. They eat corn all the time, but it comes in a frozen bag. It reminded me that a lot of kids (or adults) don't really know where their food comes from.

To be honest, it wasn't the best corn on the cob, but it still tasted like summer. We'll have to pick some up at one of the road-side stands soon, because I want some of the good stuff. I love when half the kernels are white and half are yellow, and they're so fresh that the kernels snap in your mouth as you take a bite.

I don't have pictures of them, but we also got some cherries last week. They were even worse than the corn, actually, which is probably why I don't have pictures of them. But they reminded us of a summer 8 years ago, before we were married, when I camped with Becca's family on the shore of Lake Erie. We were going to Cedar Point the next day, it was a lazy summer evening, and we got a huge bag of really delicious cherries to eat after dinner. We spent all evening eating them and spitting the pits across the campsite to see who could spit the farthest. I think my happy memories are somewhat colored by the fact that I was with Becca after having been apart all summer. Being head over heels in love with someone tends to make everything better. But I think those were good cherries anyway.

Borders, books, and bookstores

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 02:31:00 +0000

I listened to this NPR article on the way home today, and it got me thinking about my reading habits and the future of bookstores. If you haven't heard, the nation-wide chain of Borders bookstores couldn't even hold it together in bankruptcy, so the whole chain is going out of business and is liquidating. I know Borders has really taken a hit in the last few years. They bet big on brick-and-mortar stores right around the time Amazon was starting to dominate and Barnes & Noble was moving much of its sales online. They also invested heavily in CD sales, right around the time the bottom dropped out of that market. So Borders lost both those bets. They hadn't been profitable in the last five years, so maybe it shouldn't be a surprise that it's all over.

Having Borders go out of business really won't affect me much, since the local Borders closed some time ago. But I'm guessing it is going to have some longer-term affects.

First, as sad as it is to see a big chain (and 11,000 jobs) go down, the silver lining is that it might pave the way for smaller local bookstores to find a foothold.
I like going to bookstores. I like browsing, I like leafing through books and picking up ones that have attractive covers or authors I recognize. But I almost never buy new books because I perceive them to be too expensive. I can't be the only one.
I don't rely on bookstores for recommended reading. I rely on friends and family. If that doesn't work, I rely on book blogs or sites like Goodreads. If that doesn't work, the recommendation systems of Amazon and other online vendors are very good. And if that doesn't work, I'm still probably more likely to consult a librarian than a bookstore.
One thing that stood out to me in the NPR article (which you really should read or listen to, by the way) is the quote from the guy who analyzes Barnes & Noble. He said he was agnostic to supplier and device agnostic. He just wants to read, and he doesn't care much about whether it comes from Borders or Walmart or Amazon. He also doesn't care much if he's reading it on a Nook or Kindle or in paper. That's how I feel. I like a real book better, but there are some significant advantages to ebooks. Bottom line is that I just want to read stuff, whatever the easiest or cheapest way is to do that.
Speaking of ebooks, they apparently are the future. Certainly not the exclusive future, because paper books are just nice and people still like them. But now that Amazon is selling more ebooks than printed books, the writing is on the wall. And apparently that's how Barnes & Noble escaped the same fate as Borders--they went online and made their own e-reader.

If you have any other predictions about the future of books, I'd love to hear them. I actually care a lot about books--they fill my home and have been a big part of my life since I was small. My love of reading is a huge part of who I am and what I do for a living. There's a lot to lament about the change of the book world, but I'm actually fairly optimistic that there will still be room for bookstores as long as people are reading. And despite hundreds of cable channels and thousands of video game titles and all the wonders of "teh internets," people still love to read.

Photo credit: MorBCN.

86 reasons

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Fri, 24 Jun 2011 17:11:00 +0000

I hate Facebook. I really do. I would have deleted my account long ago if it weren't for the social utility, and the fact that they would save my information anyway, regardless of whether I deleted the account. So I really don't do much on that wretched platform.

But if I hate Facebook, I really hate Facebook Apps. I've never enabled one, and I block everyone I find. They were particularly annoying when they were new and a few over-exuberant classmates and family members used them excessively. Facebook just isn't useful (or pleasant) to me when I have to wade through dozens of Mafia Wars requests, Farmville updates, and hokey quizzes. Those things were cute when the internet was new. Not so anymore.

Well, today I signed onto Facebook for the first time in a while, and happened to notice in one of the options menus a list of all the apps I've blocked. There are no less than 86 of these things, and reading through them is actually kind of funny. But no, I do not want to know what Sex and the City girl I am, thank you very much. So here's 86 of my reasons why I don't like Facebook.

A More Accurate Harry Potter Sorting Quiz
Are you Scene, Preppy, Skater, Jock, Nerd or Emo?
Bejeweled Blitz
Bubble Island
BuddyPoke
Café World
Causes
Collect Hugs
Death´s Time
Decode your robot name
Discover Your Birth Number
Family Feud
FARKLE
Farm Town
FarmVille
Fish World
FrontierVille
Happy Island
Happy Pets
Hello City
How many Harry Potter spells do you remember?
How smart are you in Math?
How Well Do You Know Me?
How well do you know your musicals?
Island Paradise
Just how Utahn are you?
Know-It-All Trivia
La Meteo del Humor
Likeness
LivingSocial
Lyre Love
M.A.S.H
Mafia Wars
Make Your Jersey
Medieval Personality Quiz
Millionaire City
MindJolt Games
Movies
My Polls
Nightclub City
Paid Opinion
Pass a Drink
PathWords
Pieces of Flair
Polls
Que cancion de Sin Bandera te va mejor?
Quizazz
Quiz Creator
Quiz Monster
Quizopolis Quizzes
Quiz Planet
Roller Coaster Kingdom
Send A Round
Spot The Hidden Images
Stats About Me
Texas HoldEm Poker
the really random Quiz
Typing Maniac
Visual Bookshelf
WB BD-Live
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The perils of TweetDeck

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Tue, 07 Jun 2011 02:19:00 +0000

Several days ago word broke that a risqué photo was "tweeted" out from the Twitter account of a Democratic Representative, who most Americans had never even heard of before. The photo isn't quite obscene, but let's just say I'm not in the habit of posting pictures of gentlemen in their skivvies in an obvious state of arousal. The media really picked up on this because the Representative in question is a darling of the Democratic Party, taking a big role in the healthcare debate, and because he is a well-known user of new media tools such as Twitter and Facebook. And also, well, because his last name is Weiner.

New York Representative Anthony Weiner (yes, it's pronounced that way) initially denied that the photos were from him, implying that his account was hacked. But his denial was carefully worded and actually didn't say that he didn't send it. The college co-ed in Washington state who received the picture wouldn't speak about the incident, and after a few conflicting statements, Weiner stopped answering questions as well. Rather than turning it over to the authorities, Weiner went out and got a lawyer and a private investigation team. Things were already looking fishy by the time conservative bloggers got a hold of other photos Representative Weiner had sent to other girls online. Then he admitted that the photos "may" have been him. The bizarre episode reached its apex today when he gave a press conference admitting his responsibility, and that this was just one of half a dozen girls with whom he had traded lewd pictures over the past few years. He said he won't resign, but his wife (a protege of Secretary Hilary Clinton in the State Department) was notably absent and House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi is already calling for an ethics investigation.

Here's the thing, though: I knew he was lying as soon as I heard about it. I knew before he confessed, before his answers got all wishy-washy, and before I knew anything else about the situation. I knew it because the first article I read happened to mention that Rep. Weiner used a service call TweetDeck to post to his Twitter account. And it just so happens that I used to use TweetDeck, which had a really nice app for Google Chrome. But I stopped using it because when you responded to direct messages (private conversations in Twitter) it would sometimes send the message out as an @reply. If you're not a Twitter user, that means it is specifically sent to the person, but it's public for everyone to see. After twice sending messages to the world that were meant for my wife, I stopped using TweetDeck. Both messages were pretty innocuous, with no identifying information (or amorous intent), but it was enough to make me stop using that platform to post to Twitter.

It was also enough for me to know exactly what happened to Anthony Weiner when he sent out the bulging briefs snapshot. So yeah, I called this one. But maybe this will get TweetDeck to fix that bug.

On my dresser

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Mon, 30 May 2011 21:28:00 +0000

Found this on the handle to one of my dresser drawers last night. I wish I could say this was unusual, but this kind of thing happens all the time at my house. Is this some sort of children's warning, like a bizarre kid's version of the black spot?

Despite the regularity of this sort of bizarre appearances, I am always at a loss to explain what led to them. My children mystify me.

Pee-Wee's Big Adventure

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Thu, 26 May 2011 19:24:00 +0000

I was a huge fan of Pee-wee's Playhouse when I was little. It was my favorite Saturday morning show for years, and I never missed it. I've seen episodes of the show online as an adult, and frankly, I'm not quite sure why I liked it so much. But it had some actors who got big later on (Lawrence Fishburn or Phil Hartman, anyone?) and a lot of funny, campy routines that were pretty memorable. (To this day I occasionally drop references to the show in my everyday speech, like the Secret Word or the Connect the Dots.) My favorite episode as a kid involved a giant pair of underpants that Pee-wee used for lots of different games. I found a clip of it online today, and it really isn't that funny, but at least it inspired some good pranks when I was in high school.

I was thinking about Pee-wee and friends because I just picked up Pee-wee's Big Adventure for $5. While Pee-wee's Playhouse hasn't exactly stood the test of time, the movie that launched the series is actually really good. Yes, you read that right—it's kind of brilliant, in a bizarre and garish sort of way. Paul Reubens, the zany (and legally challenged) creator of Pee-wee Herman, co-wrote the script with Phil Hartman, who was just starting his stint as a writer at Saturday Night Live. Reubens and the producers picked a young Tim Burton to direct the film. It was Burton's first feature-length film, but his trademark elements of the macabre and surrealism were already well-developed. The soundtrack for Pee-wee's Big Adventure was provided by the now-legendary composer Danny Elfman—the first of many collaborations between Burton and Elfman.

My wife doesn't exactly share my appreciation for all things Pee-wee, but maybe I'll convince her to sit down and watch it sometime. But until then, she's planning on going out of town in a couple weeks, and I know exactly how I'm going to spend one of my evenings when she does. If you haven't seen it before, I highly recommend it. It's a bizarre but lighthearted treat, and a reminder of what Tim Burton used to do before he cast Johnny Depp in every movie he made.

Easter stories

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 03:22:00 +0000

Story #1: One year growing up we had an inside Easter Egg hunt, I think because it was raining. My dad hid eggs all over the downstairs, while we waited excitedly upstairs. The eggs included both colored hardboiled eggs and plastic ones filled with candy. After the hunt, my parents gathered up the hardboiled eggs and discovered that we were missing one. It wasn't until late summer that I found it behind the stereo. I wanted to break it open to see how bad it smelled, but my dad wouldn't let me. Smart dad.

Story #2: At Easter and Halloween, my parents used to tell us not to eat all our candy at one time or it would make us sick. I genuinely thought that was just a line they said to keep us from spoiling our dinner, so I never paid attention to that. And then one year I ate all my Easter candy that same day, and my stomach really did feel awful. I realized my parents weren't just telling me that so they could poach out of my basket over the coming days. Although I bet they did that too. I know I do.

Story #3: The city I grew up in had a city-wide Easter Egg Hunt the Saturday before Easter, and we went one year. They had spread hundreds (if not thousands) of plastic eggs across a park, and there were several hundred candy-crazed kids barely able to wait behind the ropes until the organizers gave the signal. When it started, there was a huge stampede. It was all over in a few minutes, and at the end, I had only gathered one or two eggs. My brothers had fared similarly. We opened our eggs and ate the candy, but in one of mine there was a slip of paper with the number 3 on it. My dad said that I had to go to the pavilion to claim a prize there, so I went back. There were actually a lot of prizes there, and the top three were all the same thing: a huge yellow stuffed bunny, with a black top hat and tuxedo jacket. It was about 4 feet tall, and to my eyes, it was the most awesome thing I had ever seen. I ran back to the car, carrying the enormous bunny aloft, and celebrated with my two brothers. It was never really "my" rabbit, since we all played with it, and even though my parents didn't like it from the day we brought it home, it took them a couple years before they managed to get rid of it.

Story#3.5: This is really just a follow-up to the big bunny story. There was a neighbor girl I grew up with that was sort of my rival all growing up, even through high school. The year I won the bunny at the city Easter Egg Hunt, she apparently saw me and was really jealous. She brought it up on more than one occasion, which I thought was funny, but I think I liked that I actually got something she didn't. When you have something awesome, the only thing that makes it cooler is if someone else you don't like wants it but doesn't have it. It's selfish, but it's also human nature. And it basically made the big bunny that much cooler. Best. Easter. Ever.

A day in the dark

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 13:25:00 +0000

Last Monday a series of storms swept through our region, spawning a few tornadoes and downing a lot of trees. So by early afternoon, Nashville had over 80,000 people without power. The majority of people had their power restored by late evening, but we were some of the lucky 15,000 or so who didn't have power restored about 24 hours. (Perhaps it was payback for our refusal to participate in Earth Hour a few weeks back?)

It was sort of an interesting 24 hours, and made us realize how much our lifestyle is dependent on electricity. When the power went out it was daytime, but the heavy rain clouds blocked out a lot of the sun, so it was pretty dark long before sundown. Reading was difficult, even in the afternoon, without candles or a lantern. A lot of the things the girls like to do, such as watch PBS or play word and math games on the computer, were out of the question. So Becca got out the Legos and blocks and they had a low-tech playtime afternoon.

When I drove home from work, it was like going back in time 100 years. There was a distinct line when I passed under a bridge, with street lights and signs and houses fully illuminated behind me, and complete darkness in my neighborhood up ahead. It was kind of unnerving. It was also chilly--the weather was pretty cold after the stormfront came in, and since our heater is electric-powered, that didn't work either.

When I got home, we hunted around for flashlights and candles to use in the evening, and talked about what to have for dinner. With the power out for the foreseeable future, I was reluctant to open the refrigerator and freezer more than necessary. Not being able to watch TV is one thing, but having all your food spoil is another entirely. We ended up going out to eat, which was fun because we hadn't done it in a long while. Unfortunately, we were not the only ones with that clever idea, and waited quite a while for a table. But it didn't seem that bad because we missed having lights and heating. We actually went shopping after that, mostly just to stay in a place that was light and warm, and delayed going home until an hour after the girls' normal bedtime.

We used candles and a flashlight to see around the house as we put the girls to bed. We quickly found out which candles worked best. Our decorative pillar candles were gave off the most light, but so did some of our jar candles with longer wicks. (Just one little LED flashlight, by comparison, was at least 20 times brighter than the best candle.) The candles were enough to see the room, but not very useful to read or see details. Bill Bryson has a recent book called At Home that looks at the history and evolution of homes, and one of the things he points out is that people essentially lived in the dark until the introduction of the light bulb. I now see his point--even with six candles in a room, it was hard to read a newspaper or magazine. Fortunately for us, the girls' night light is actually a plug-in flashlight with its own battery, which made bed time a lot easier. We bundled them up in warm sleepers and extra blankets, and they slept fine.

After bed time, I made a trip to the local Walmart to buy a few groceries and a 10-lb. bag of ice to keep the food cold in the refrigerator and freezer. I noticed that the flashlight and coolers were almost all sold out. It was also weird to go from our small, dark house to the brilliant florescent illumination of the Walmart.

That paradox continued through the evening. I could make calls, play games, and watch movies on my phone. But if the battery ran down, I couldn't charge it. Same with the laptop. And neither of them could connect to the internet, because our wi-fi router and modem were down. I was reading my new issue of Wired magazine, but I was doing it by candlelight. We both took showers at night rather than the next morning so we could get the last of the hot water from the hot water heater. And we ended up going to bed early because we got tired of peering at printed words by candle, and there was sort of nothing else to do. Ben Franklin's "Early to bed, early to rise" aphorism seemed more mandatory than optional without electricity, which might have explained his interest in that topic as well.

The next day was equally strange. I shaved and dressed with the flashlight, and then left my house in the 1800's, got in my "mechanical horse," and had zoomed off to my heated, illuminated work while turning the heat up and listening to the radio. When the power finally came back on around mid-day, our house returned to the 20th Century, but not the 21st--we had electricity, but no internet or cable TV. Comcast wouldn't restore signal for another day. So we were in the light and warm, but still felt strangely disconnected from the world. At least we had a set of "bunny ears" for the TV to use with our digital converter, so the girls could watch their shows in the afternoon and we could at least check the weather on the nightly news. (Although it's incredibly annoying to wait through a full half-hour news program just to hear the last 30 seconds of the weather report at the end.)

Lessons learned from our day in the dark? Modern devices are awesome, but limited. A lot of our entertainment and lifestyle habits are dependent on electricity and internet connectivity. But so are our eating habits, and those are harder to change for longer periods of time. Our power loss was localized, so I could just pick up ice. But if it was a situation like Northern Japan last month or the Gulf States after Hurricane Katrina, that wouldn't be an option. I also see the attraction of a wood or gas fireplace as an alternative heat source in the event of power loss. If it had been colder, we would have basically been camping out in our own house.

We actually were in good shape for the power failure, with candles and flashlights and batteries. And we had a fun evening together, going from shopping to doing things by candlelight. The only permanant downside was that I didn't get to watch the NCAA Men's Basketball finals, but from what I hear, I didn't miss much.

Photo credit: Jason Staten.

Arora Borealis

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 21:23:00 +0000

I'm a sucker for time lapse photography, and seeing the Aurora Borealis is on my bucket list. Small wonder, then, that I thought this video was beautiful. I recommend keeping the HD on, letting it load, and then watch it full-screen.

The video is by Terje Sorgjerd, who tromped around the Norway-Russia border in -25 C (-13 F) weather to capture these amazing shots. Thank you, Terje!

Via BoingBoing.

Blue foot

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Sat, 19 Feb 2011 03:53:00 +0000

The other day I was changing my youngest out of her pajamas. She was wearing those cute little footie sleepers that little kids wear. But I was somewhat alarmed when I pulled her feet out of the footie part of the pajamas and saw that her left foot was blue. It looked like she had circulation cut off or something.

But she seemed to be fine, her feet were the same temperature, and she giggled equally when I tickled each foot one at a time. I was puzzled, until I fished around in the foot of her sleeper.

Ah, there's the problem. If I walked around on a blue crayon for several hours, my foot would be blue too. I felt a little bad that she had to walk on a crayon, but at least I knew her foot wouldn't fall off.

I hope you like home videos

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 16:28:00 +0000

If you like us and you like our kids, this post is for you. If you think home videos of cute kids doing cute things are boring, you can probably skip this one. You just don't know what you're missing.

Videos are here, with the usual password.

The thaw

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 14:07:00 +0000

I haven't blogged about it, but the unusually cold weather has consumed the Southeast for much of the last month. We got a fair amount of snow last Monday and Tuesday, which Nashville school officials deemed sufficient to merit canceling school the whole week. It was only a couple inches of snow, but since the whole metropolitan area only has 32 salt/plow trucks to cover 526 square miles, they never get around to plowing or salting the back roads. In truth, the roads weren't that bad, but the drivers were. There are lots of accidents whenever it snows, mostly caused by careless or paranoid drivers who don't know how to act when they lose traction.

On Monday morning I braved the "treacherous" roads to go to a hearing in another county, but when I got there, opposing counsel didn't show up, so we had to continue it a few weeks. It was actually teh second time it was continued due to weather. The judge was impressed that I had made the drive out there, to which I responded, "I grew up near Cleveland, Your Honor." He nodded knowingly and seemed to think that it was a good enough explanation.

Even when it hasn't been snowing, it's been consistently cold. We had several weeks where it never got above freezing, which is unusual for Nashville. So when the snow came, it stuck around for a while. But over the weekend it finally thawed out a bit, and last night it didn't even get below freezing. The cheerful snowman my daughter made is the last of the snow in our yard, an it will be gone by this afternoon.

I really enjoyed having the snow—it made it really feel like winter—but I didn't enjoy the disruption to work and other schedules. And I will not miss paying $200 a month on our heating bill. (Houses around here are pitifully insulated.) It's nice not to have to wear a sweater or jacket around the house just to stay warm. So bring on the warmer weather for now, because I want to enjoy it before the next cold front comes in.

My daughter's once-mighty snowman's
bucket hat now covers the slushy lump
that used to be his head.

Marathon

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 22:18:00 +0000

I’ve had several friends ask me how my marathon went. The short answer is that it went very well. And if that’s all you care to know, you can stop reading now. But if you want to hear a bit more about it or see some pictures of the race, check it out here. The super-secret password, as is customary, is my last name uncapitalized.

Three more posts tangentially related to running

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 19:10:00 +0000

As I've run all over Nashville, I've been struck by the sheer volume of houses for sale. And it's not limited to certain neighborhoods or price brackets, either. There seem to be just as many "For Sale" signs in the lower-class neighborhoods as in the more posh parts of town. The only difference is that the lower-cost homes tend to be for sale by owner, whereas the pricier homes have fancier realtors. But this much is clear: there are a lot of folks trying to get out of their homes right now.
One of the unfortunate realities of running in the cold weather is the human body's amazing ability to produce large amounts of mucus. I won't go into too many details, but loogies and snot-rockets are a fact of running life. The other day I had was about to let fly one such loogie when I realized that I was running in front of the local synagogue. It just didn't seem right to expectorate on the synagogue property. Jewish folks have been spit on enough over the years. So I waited until I passed their property and hocked the loog on the luxury condos next door, to which I felt no such compunction. But then I thought, if I'm going to avoid spitting on the synagogue, I guess I have to do likewise for every other church, chapel, temple and mosque that I happen to run past. Which is easier said than done in Nashville—there are a churches on every corner of some parts of town.
I ran competitively in school, back in the early 1990's when Forrest Gump was a new and popular movie. As I ran around town, it was not uncommon for people to lean out their car windows and yell "Run, Forrest, run!" in order to prove their clever wit. I was thinking about that the other day during one of my runs, and not ten minutes later a fellow in a pick-up truck called out "Run, Forrest!" as I crossed at the intersection. Thanks, Bubba. That could have possibly been construed as clever fifteen years ago, but not so now.

Three thoughts tangentially related to running

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 18:43:00 +0000

Sometimes I ride the bus to work and then change into running clothes and run home in the evening. It's been a nice way to get some mileage in and not lose as much time with the family. I'd be on the road during half of that time anyway as part of my commute. On those days that I run home, I don't take my wallet, keys, phone, etc. with me to work. (What my friend D jokingly used to refer to as "my effects," à la Jack Sparrow.) All I take is my bus pass, my key to my office, and my pass-card to get into the building. I clip those together with a small binder clip and simply carry them home when I run. But the weird thing is how naked I feel without all that junk in my pockets. I'm constantly patting my pockets and panicking for a split second that I left my wallet or keys somewhere. It's funny how conditioned I am to load up before I leave the house.
Oftentimes when I run home from work I follow roads that have terrible rush-hour traffic. I can run a lot faster than the traffic is going, so for several miles I am faster than the cars. Sometimes I can pick out a bus or another easy-to-identify vehicle and see how long it takes for it to pass me back up, and the difference is significant. I can get 5 or 10 minutes ahead of traffic sometimes, which is an awful lot considering how slow people are compared to cars. Fortunately for me, I take sneaky back-roads to get out of town, so it has yet to take longer than half an hour.
Training for this marathon has really brought out my inner data nerd. I log all my miles in an online database (Zoho Creator), along with my minutes per mile and other notes about the course that day. Then I graph it out and can see my progress. I know, as if long-distance running wasn't a sufficiently boring past-time, I had to add graphs and statistics to the mix. I'm almost as bad as Marshall on How I Met Your Mother. The spikes represent the long runs that I work in on the weekends, while the shorter data points are the shorter runs I work in during the week. You can also see the plateau I hit around the middle of last month when I was sick for a few weeks, and my nose was doing more running than my legs.

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Wed, 13 Oct 2010 15:37:00 +0000

I'm as sick of hearing about Facebook as the next guy, but this is really pretty funny.

Kudos again to Joy of Tech.

noreply@blogger.com (For Peter's Sake) — Thu, 30 Sep 2010 16:14:00 +0000

I just saw that Tony Curtis died last night at age 85. I'll always remember him from Some Like It Hot, with Jack Lemmon and Marylin Monroe. It's the original cross-dressing comedy, with Curtis and Lemmon dressing in drag and joining an all-girl musical group in order to escape Chicago and the mobsters hunting them. (As you might expect, hilarity ensues.) It's ironic that such Tony Curtis was in manly movies like Spartacus and The Boston Strangler, but he's best known for wearing a skirt and heels.

The funny thing about Some Like It Hot is how convincing Tony Curtis is as a woman. Well, maybe not that convincing, but compared to Jack Lemmon, he's a knock-out. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. Give it a watch, for Tony's sake.