Cuppojoe's Caffeinated Mind

Steamed

2008-06-09T14:07:00.003-06:00

Little by little, I realize that I am, indeed, getting older.

I recently celebrated my 37th birthday, but my realisation of the aging process comes not so much from events you can mark on a calendar. Instead, it's a collection of little observations that, taken individually, can be easily explained or overlooked. Put all of these "little observations" into the Big Picture, however, and the result is somewhat more depressing.

I do my best to stay young. Some might even say I'm childish or immature. Others may say that I'm trying to recapture my lost youth. Well, to those I say, "Pshhht!" I'm plenty grown-up, and you can't recapture something you haven't let go. Still, though my brain insists we are only 20-something, my body has begun to point out that 40-something isn't far away.

For instance...

I've always liked to play Frisbee. Most of all, I like jumping for high ones or diving for just-out-of-reach ones. There's nothing more satisfying than the look on someone's face as you magically snag out of mid-air a Frisbee that they were sure was going to send you running across the park. During coffee breaks at work, we used to go out in the back lot and toss a couple discs around. I'd always try for the catch, no matter how impossible it looked. I'd grab one skimming an inch off the pavement... I'd lunge and trap one just about to hit a wall... I'd jump over the guy in front of me to make sure I got the next one instead of him...

I can still try to do all of these things, but a recent trip to the park with an 11-year old has shown me that 180lbs does not achieve the same height or hang-time that 135lbs used to. Nor does it tend to stop very easily once urged into a lunging motion. Such maneuvers are now typically followed by a tumble in the grass and a 5-minute time-out for recovery.

Damn inertia.

And then there's food. I used to have an iron stomach and unbeatable metabolism. I could eat absolutely anything I wanted, without consequence. As an example, there was a time when I was counselling 9- to 12-year old boys at a summer camp, and I was challenged to a lasagna eating contest by another counsellor of, shall we say, greater corporeal girth. Well, as heavy as that pasta can be, I packed it away and kept pace with the big guy, bite for bite. In fact, about 1 full tray into the contest, it became obvious he was on the verge of throwing in the towel. So, he sent one of the young boys from his cabin to sabotage my lasagna with a big scoop of ice cream (the rest of the campers and counsellors had long since moved on to dessert). Nonplussed, I stirred the extra dairy into my meal and, by the time a tray and a half had been consumed between the two of us, I was declared the winner. The big guy moaned and groaned for the rest of the evening, but I was more than ready for hot chocolate and marshmallows at campfire time.

There's no way I could repeat that performance today. For starters, my relationship with dairy has taken a turn for the worse in recent years. We just don't seem to see eye-to-eye like we once did. Cramming that much cheese and ice cream down my throat now would either have me running for the nearest washroom equipped with an industrial-strength ventilation fan, or wishing that I was. It's a purge-or-bloat scenario, if you catch my drift.

Aside from that, I've also been introduced to this lovely phenomenon called heart burn. All I can say about that is, "WTF?!?" Apparently, the supposed one-way valve at the top of my stomach has become confused with the definition of "one-way". No longer does my stomach have a monopoly on all that wonderful acid some foods seem to produce. Now my esophagus gets to enjoy all that burning goodness too. Yay. It's especially fun when it happens in the middle of the night and my brain is too sleepy to differentiate between acid reflux and a heart attack.

Fun times.

There are lots of other physical manifestations of this thing called "aging": a 100-foot dash to catch a bus that feels like sprinting the last 100m up Mt. Everest... joints that tend to fuse solid if allowed to go unmoved for more than 10 minutes... a knee-cap that enjoys wandering around the general knee region without actually staying on the knee itself... muscles that spasm and cramp in places I didn't even know I had muscles...

The list goes on but the reality of it all hit home yesterday, not with a pain, or a burp, or the crack of a hip. It was something that just sort of snuck up on me...

We were at the wavepool last night with our kids, enjoying being out of the rain. The place we go to is pretty cool, too. The wavepool is shallow enough for the two younger girls, who aren't the strongest swimmers, to go without life jackets, there's a portion called "The River" where they run a current you can float in or swim against, lots of fun water toys for the little ones, and a nice big hot tub that never seems to have too many people in it. My favorites, though, are the steam room and dry sauna. Unlike at most facilities, these amenities are right beside the pool (as opposed to down the hall to the change rooms) so I don't have to abandon the kids just to enjoy a little heat.

Well, as I was contemplating going in the sauna last night, I noticed a couple of girls, probably no older than 13 or 14, going in and out, holding the door open, and letting all the heat out. I could actually watch the temperature drop on a digital thermometer outside the room. As I walked towards the sauna, one of them snaked past me with two flippers full of water from the hot tub and dashed it on the hot rocks. Great idea if this was a steam sauna, but totally forbidden by the facility because... well... it's not.

As they were about to run back for more water, I stopped one of them and said, "Hey! Can't you read? This is a dry sauna!" Then, jerking my thumb toward the foggy glass door not two feet away, I said, "If you're looking for the steam room, it's RIGHT THERE!!!"

Yep, I'm the cranky old guy at the public pool. It's all downhill from here, I'm afraid.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go yell at some kids on my lawn, Wil Wheaton-style.

Friday's Foto: Industrial

2008-06-06T10:54:00.001-06:00

The top of the Waterworks at Glenmore Dam.

Boring Childhood Stories: Farmhouse on Fire

2008-06-04T14:08:00.002-06:00

When I was 13, we lived on a farm. We weren't farmers, but we lived on a farm. To be exact, we lived in a house on a farm. We lived in a house on a one-acre portion of a 160-acre farm. The other 159 acres were rented to somebody else who used the land to raise cattle. So maybe we lived on a ranch. Anyway, since that "somebody" was only ever there to feed his cattle from time to time, we had the run of the whole place.

Now, don't be put off with the idea of living on a farm (or ranch). You're probably picturing something like endless flat fields of wheat, a big red barn, a couple grain silos, and broken down farm machinery. In short: Boring. Until I moved to ours, that's exactly how I envisioned a farm, too. Luckily for me, they aren't all like that.

What we called the Upper Pasture looked like typical farmland. For the most part, it was flat, bordered by barbed-wire fences and forest. Though it looked ideal for planting, there was nothing but wild grass growing for the cattle to graze on. A narrow, dusty gravel road snaked its way from the main gate to the house, sitting at the edge of a forested bluff overlooking the Lower Pasture. A second "road", really little more than two tire ruts in the grass, ran out from behind the house, skirted the bluff, and eventually made its way to the Lower Pasture.

The Lower Pasture was much more interesting and was where my brothers and I spent most of our time. Where the road wound down from our house, there was an old abandoned homestead and a swayback barn. These would have been a blast to explore and use as forts, but our parents warned us of a dangerous gas leak there that could kill us... and we were young enough to believe them.

The other way down was to follow the cattle trails through the forest and down the bluff. These ended at a flat plain of more wild grass, bordered by more forest, more fence, and the meandering Little Red Deer River. And smack-dab in the middle was an honest-to-goodness marsh. Amidst all that grass, here was a spot with low scrub-brush, mucky ground that would suck the boots right off your feet, and the remains of an old wooden hay wagon half-sunk into the earth.

As if this wasn't enough to keep three boys busy with exploring and make-believe, there was also "The Island".

As I said, the Little Red Deer River did a few twists and turns through the Lower Pasture. As it did so, it created "The Island", a few acres of land bordered by water on three sides and a neighboring farm on the fourth. The great thing about this little bit of land wasn't just that you could only get to it by wading in bare feet or jumping from stone to stone, it was "The Hill". That's right... "The Island" had "The Hill", a hill nearly as high as the bluff and the Upper Pasture. From here, we could look out over the entire Lower Pasture... homestead, barn, marsh, river, and all.

The real magic, however, happened in the winter when "The Hill" was transformed into "The Toboggan Hill"!

One sunny winter Saturday, our parents made the 3-hour round-trip into Calgary for groceries, taking my younger brother, Jeff, and baby sister, Crystal, with them. That left my other younger brother, Mike, and me to figure out what to do with the day. As I said, getting groceries was only a 3-hour venture, but my parents often took time to visit other family and friends when they "went to town", so we knew we'd be on our own for quite a while.

I can't say for sure, but in all likely-hood, we sat around in our underwear eating Corn Flakes and watching Saturday morning cartoons until noon. You see, up until puberty set in well and good, this was just a natural part of the weekly routine for us boys. Once the two-and-half channels we could get reception on started broadcasting sports and fishing shows, though, we would have been looking for something a little more entertaining. Sure, we had tons of dinky cars, loads of GI-Joe, and even a few Transformers, but what we really wanted to do was go tobogganing.

The two of us suited up in ugly parkas, mitts still damp from the day before, and running shoes (because we were too cool for boots) and made our way down the bluff, across the frozen river, and up "The Hill", toboggan in tow.

The snow was good and deep, I remember. The sun was out and it wasn't exactly warm, but not so cold that the snow was fluffy or crunchy. Instead, it was that perfect "packable" kind of snow that lets you carve trails on your first few runs down the hill that become like bobsled tracks your toboggan will follow faithfully forever after. I don't know how long we were out there, but the sun was still high in the sky when we got the fright of our lives.

Although we could see the entire Lower Pasture from "The Hill", the Upper Pasture and, subsequently, our house, was obscured by the line of trees at the top of the bluff. Those trees weren't nearly tall enough, though, to hide the thick, black smoke billowing from the exact spot we knew our house to be.

Had I used the stove that morning? Was I doing any ironing before we left? Had Mom left her blow dryer on and had it somehow slipped off the counter and into a pile of damp towels left behind after being used to mop up the water that overflowed the tub when my step-father fell asleep in the bath the night before, sparking into a smoldering fire that grew into an all-consuming blaze? These and other equally-improbable thoughts flashed through my mind before being replaced by, "FIRE!!!"

We dropped the sled and took off at top speed for the house, half-tumbling down the hill, skidding across the ice, and scrambling blindly up the cattle trail. The entire way, images of everything I owned going up in flames flashed before my eyes. The thought of my parents coming home to find us standing beside the smoking ruins of what was once our home was too much to bear.

The smoke was thicker and blacker than ever.

All of a sudden, Mike called out breathlessly, "Oh no! Boots!" Boots was our cat. Clearly, Mike was also contemplating losing everything dear to him, and the family pet was at the top of the list. I learned later that all Mike could picture as we raced to the house was that little cat, surrounded by flames, hurling himself through the fire and smashing out through the glass of the sliding French Doors on the balcony. Years later, an incident involving myself running full-tilt into a similar set of sliding French Doors would sink, once and for all, the notion of Boots saving himself this way, but that's another story.

As we broke from the trees at the top of the bluff, the house came into full view. No flames poured from the windows or lept from the rooftop. In fact, there were no flames to be seen at all. And there was an eerie silence, not the snap, crackle, pop of a house ablaze. Still, thick, black smoke continued to billow into the sky. From our new vantage point, however, it was obviously coming from the other side of the building. The garage?

I held apart 2 strands of the barbed wire fence for my brother, then hastily climbed through myself. My mind was numb at this point, completely incapable of understanding what was going on. But, as we rounded the corner of the house, it all become clear in a flood of relief and spent adrenaline.

There, in the driveway, stood my step-father, back from town far early than expected. In his hand was a stick which he was using to poke and prod a pile of burning tires. Although this Indian Smoke Signal approach was an effective way of calling us in to put away groceries, I can't help but think there must have been another way that was easier on the environment... not to mention our hearts!

Friday's Foto: Flare

2008-05-30T08:42:00.002-06:00

Taken on a photowalk from my house to Nose Hill Park and back.

A shot into the afternoon sun.

Bunged Up

2008-05-29T15:01:00.002-06:00

It has been brought to my attention that I don't write enough. And it's true... A dehydrated fat man subsisting on a diet of cheese and codeine is more regular than this blog.

You just pictured that, didn't you? Come on, if I can take the time to think it up, the least you can do is visualize...

Well, I'm putting on a pot of strong coffee and we're gonna get this thing flowing again, all right?

Oh, and you can stop visualizing now.

Rubik's Revenge is Right

2008-05-01T12:53:00.004-06:00

As a thank you for helping them out with a small computer problem, my girlfriend's parents insisted on thanking me with a present, despite my protests to the contrary. However, I was very pleasantly surprised to see that they had managed to track down a Rubik's Revenge Cube. I've been looking all over town for one, only to be told that they are sold out.

Okay, time for a little back story...

I've been obsessed with the Rubik's Cube since the summer after 8th grade. For hours and hours I studied a How to Solve the Rubik's Cube paperback, committing to memory the multitude of color combinations, twists, and turns that ultimately make up a very monotonous formula for solving the Cube. Now, more than 20 years later, I can still actually "solve" a scrambled Rubik's Cube in under 3 minutes almost every time.

So...

My daughter got a 2x2x2 Pocket Cube in her stocking from Santa this past Christmas. I don't know what the jolly old elf was thinking, though... He should have put it in mine because I'm the one always playing with it! It didn't take me long to discover that the original formula I had memorized (with a few minor modifications) was all I needed to solve the smaller cousin. Well! That got me thinking... How hard could the 4x4x4 Rubik's Revenge be?

I may never know the answer to that question. Although no less than 18 hours ago I became the proud owner of a Rubik's Revenge Cube, no less than 30 minutes ago said cube became little more than a pile of useless plastic pieces.

Those of you who know me (maybe a little too well) have probably already jumped to the conclusion that I became easily frustrated by this new puzzle and flung it at a wall. A pretty fair guess, considering a similar incident with Rubik's Magic back in the early 90's. But that's another story. No, this one can't be blamed on my immaturity or lack of patience.

It turns out that 24 of the 56 moving pieces on a Rubik's Revenge Cube are only held in place by a piece of plastic about 1mm thick. It also turns out that turning the portions of the cube containing these pieces with any more force than what is absolutely necessary to overcome friction and inertia can cause this incredibly thin piece of brittle plastic to break, resulting in the rapid disintegration from cube to the aforementioned pile of useless plastic pieces.

The first thing I did was swear. The second thing I did was swear again. The third thing I did was to see if I could glue the broken piece and reassemble the puzzle. Yes, it can be glued. No, it can't be put back together the way the original 3x3x3 Rubik's Cube could. So, with gluing not an option, I went to Google.

I'd say it's a bad sign that it took me all of 12 seconds to discover that I'm not the first person to uncover this design flaw.

So, I guess we'll have to see if this puzzle can be returned, which I honestly have mixed feelings about. On the one hand, I don't want my girlfriend's parents to be out the money, but I also don't want to be the guy that says, "Hey, thanks for the present. By the way, it's junk."

Maybe, after all those years of mocking Rubik by making his puzzle look like child's play, this is just his way of getting back at me from beyond the grave.

Yeah...

That, or a little phenomenon I like call "Made in China".

'Nuff said.

The Greed Consumes

2008-03-27T15:30:00.002-06:00

It's a plain and simple fact that Microsoft is here to stay. No matter what the Linux-Heads and MAC-Daddies of the world say, Good Ol' Bill has secured his company's presence in our marketplace for a long time to come. Whether through better innovation, clever marketing, or sheer dollar-power, Microsoft has stood its ground against all comers so far.

Something tells me that's about to change...

It's no secret that Microsoft has been eyeing a piece of the Web 2.0 pie currently dominated by Google, the Little-Search-Engine-That-Could. And why not? The "Do No Evil" start up has not only made a name for itself with quicker, more relevant search results, but they are rapidly becoming an integrated part of life for anyone who spends any amount of time online. Be it blogging with Blogger, sharing photos with Picasa, surfing videos on Google Video and YouTube, or emailing friends and family gargantuan attachments with Gmail, we're all skinny-dipping in the Google-Pond or, at the very least, dipping our feet in to test the waters. Why wouldn't Microsoft want to join in the fun?

Traditionally, Mr. Gates' response to the Google-Pond (if I'm allowed to extend the analogy just a bit too far), would be to build an overly complicated and outrageously expensive Sports-Plex, complete with wavepool and waterslides. Of course, there would be no less than 12 checkpoints to pass on the way in (just to make sure you're authorized to be there and really want to use the hot tub), the pools would spontaneously drain at random times for no reason whatsoever, and lifeguards would only be added to the staff after a sufficient number of drownings proved their necessity.

And there you'd have it: The Leisure Center del Vista.

But, not unlike getting a Blue Screen of Death right after applying the latest Windows Updates, Microsoft doesn't always do things the way we expect them to. Such is the case with the news yesterday that the software giant is planning to go head-to-head with Google in the free apps arena with a project code-named "Albany". You can read the PCWorld article here: http://www.pcworld.com/article/id,143873/article.html

Aside from the fact that I feel Microsoft is like a teenage girl who has taken too long to decide on a dress for the Prom and is now rushing off, late to the dance, with her garters unfastened, hoping to snag some poor desperate boy before the night is over, I see a couple of problems with this approach.

For starters, Microsoft has a penchant for re-inventing the wheel. Granted, they've come up with some pretty astounding advances in home and business computing because of this habit, but it's no way to play catch-up. Google's headstart can be credited as much to their acquisition of smaller start-ups who have already put in the hours and hours of R&D, beta testing, and quality assurance for their Web 2.0 services as it can to their foresight and vision. If Microsoft wants to have any chance of narrowing the gap, they can't waste time by sending their team back to the drawing board. Perhaps I am as mistaken about this as I would have been about the wavepool analogy... so we'll have to wait and see.

Another stumbling block that I'm sure Microsoft is bound to stub its multi-billion dollar toe on is its reputation... good or bad.

On the one hand, there are going to be users out there who will adamantly avoid these services, free or not, based purely on the Microsoft brand and the flying Window logo. Is this fair? No. Is it rational? Certainly not. Is it inevitable. Yup. Brand-power is a double-edged sword and it's next to impossible to win back people you have disappointed in the past. It's going to take more than a flamboyant stage appearance by Steve Ballmer and clever use of a Golden Oldie by The Stones, Tom Cochrane, or Van Halen to sway the nay-sayers this time around.

On the other hand, you're going to have die-hard fans of Microsoft's apps who just can't wait to take the Web 2.0 plunge. I'm thinking specifically of Microsoft Office users. Let's face it, when it comes to productivity software, Office is the be all and end all... so far. Sure, there are plenty of less-expensive alternatives out there (OpenOffice, Google Docs, et al) but, for the serious user, nothing beats the raw power that Microsoft has put into its industry-leading products. But will this same power make the cut when Microsoft trims the fat for the online environment? Sadly, I don't think it will. We've already seen the inferiority of Mobile Office in comparison to it's desktop predecessor, why should we believe a web-based version will be any better? Heck, it will likely be worse!

In the end, Microsoft is obviously committed now and my mere arguments aren't enough to even give a programming supervisor holed up in a basement lab somewhere on the Redmond compound pause, let alone stop the wheels of the massive machine from rolling forward. It won't be long before "Albany" gets released under a name-way-less-cool-name-than-its-codename and we'll see the results of Microsoft's efforts.

Just Google it.

Our Maiden Voyage

2008-01-17T10:27:00.000-07:00

I finally got out to the mountains last Sunday with that special someone for our very first road trip ever. It was just for the day, but we had a great time.

Surprisingly, she had never seen Bow Falls... I didn't think that was even POSSIBLE for a native Calgarian!

I fully intended to take a ton of pictures, like I usually do, but somehow only came home with 7 or so decent shots. I guess I was too busy enjoying the real world to put a camera between me and it.

2008-01-08T05:56:00.000-07:00

And I thought I had a good eye...

A Nightmare Indeed

2007-12-04T21:05:00.000-07:00

In retrospect, it has been a nightmare... but I'm awake now.

Cancer Sucks

2007-11-20T09:44:00.000-07:00

Do I have your attention now? Good.

There's a story I want you to read. And please, don't just skim through it. This is a real story, and one that deserves your time, if anything on the Internet does.

It's the story of Crystal, a new Mom who has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. I know many of you have either received the same devastating news or watched a close friend or family member suffer through this horrible disease. If you haven't, count your blessings.

This is Crystal's story.

Now, if you read the front page of Crystal's site, you will have noticed that, in addition to accepting donations for support, Crystal and her husband Tony have also been selected as one of 10 finalist couples to receive a $50,000 Dream Baby Shower from Vibe 98.5, a local Calgary radio station. If you'd like to vote for them, you can do so by following this link: http://www.vibe985.com/node/623721

I know that I usually use this blog for humor, occasionally to rant, and often to point out the blatant absurdities of our day-to-day world, but I just had to pass this story on.

I hope it touches you as much as it has touched me.

It's All About Timing

2007-10-30T13:10:00.000-06:00

Now, it's no secret that the job I do allows for a little bit of "free time". And, because my job requires me to be on the Internet, that "free time" usually translates into reading blogs and watching videos on YouTube. In fact, on days when it's really slow, there's more YouTube than work...

So, the other day my boss came walking into the warehouse. As he approached, I asked, "Hey, did you get a chance to watch that clip I sent you?"

Without answering my question, he handed me a scrap of newspaper and said, "I have no idea why I thought of you when I read this", then walked away.

I looked down at the paper in my hand and saw this: http://www.dilbert.com/comics/dilbert/archive/dilbert-20071019.html

D'Oh!

Something Wicked This Way Comes

2007-10-28T20:55:00.000-06:00

This year marks a turning point in my daughter's life. She's only 8 years old, but I'm afraid my little girl is transforming before my very eyes.

Until now, she has been all about Barbie's and cuddly stuffed animals, playing with dolls and drawing pictures of flowers and butterflies. And, when it came to Halloween, it was all unicorns, chubby elephants, and princesses.

Not so anymore.

Okay, her bedroom floor is still absolutely littered with girly girl toys, and she still likes to paint girly girl pictures with her art set. But this Halloween is going to see her take a full 180.

Since I'm the only one in the family to not have a boy, I never imagined that I'd be out shopping for a black cape, fangs, and fake blood. That's right... My little blondie will be going door-to-door this year as a vampire. Sure, she'll be a girl vampire, but she'll be a little blood-sucking, bat-loving, cape-flourishing vampire none the less.

I can only hope this is a Halloween thing... I don't think I could handle being the father of the Littlest Goth in Elementary...

Why?

2007-02-07T12:21:00.000-07:00

NYC Gadget Ban

Coming soon: $250 fine for running with scissors.

What Ever Happened To...?

2007-02-04T15:15:00.000-07:00

I've been told there are people who wonder what's become of me. The ever-growing comments on my previous post seem to support this statement, at least in part. It's been suggested that I break my silence, if only long enough to let you know where I've been, what I've been doing, where I'm heading.

Well, here I am.

Truthfully, I never went anywhere. I've always been right here. I just haven't been there, you know? Out there amongst the rest of you, sharing your daily thoughts, hopes, dreams, and laughs. Instead, I've been off in my own little world, letting my creative urges express themselves in a different way.

Have a look: http://www.flickr.com/photos/cuppojoe_trips/

Right now, I feel a drive to explore my world through photos, rather than words. Right now, I'm at a loss for words... at least, ones that can make me feel like I'm really doing something, you know?

Don't worry. The blog will stay, and I know I'll be back to it. It won't be tomorrow, and at may not be next week, either. But, if I know anything about myself, I know that the part of my brain that aches to create will not let me stay away for long.

She Lost It... Literally

2006-11-10T19:21:00.000-07:00

Oh, you should have seen it!

First, there was a sudden silence. My daughter had been watching some cartoons, having a snack, and chatting away to herself. Then... nothing. If you're a parent, you know exactly what I mean by silence. It's not like the TV quits making noise, or the hum of the refrigerator stops, but there's that eerie lack of sound from the direction of your child that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Either something bad has happened, or your little one is about to be caught doing something they shouldn't be.

In this case, it was the former.

She turned to me, hand clasped over her mouth, eyes as big as saucers, and I could tell she was terrified. She moved jerkily toward me, like some miniature cast member from Night of the Living Dead, holding her other fist out in front of her. As she slowly opened her fingers, I saw the blood. And so did she. I watched the color completely drain from her face as she began to tremble, then to do a panicky, tip-toe dance screeching, "Daaaaa-ddyyyyy!"

I looked back to her still-outstretched hand and, looking past the blood and slobber, saw what had caused this commotion.

It took a while to calm her down, to remind her she wasn't going to die, and to get her cleaned up. She was still pretty shaken by the whole event, but it was nothing a $4 visit from the Tooth Fairy couldn't fix, apparently.

The R&D Dept. Must Have Been Asleep

2006-11-09T19:43:00.000-07:00

Chana and I both had our cellular contracts come up for renewal last month. She's with Telus and I had been with Rogers. I said "had been" because I dropped them like a hot potato as soon as I could! The service had been absolutely horrible over the last 2 years, and I was ready for a change.

Because she's so good at it, I left the negotiations of the new contracts up to Chana, knowing that she'd end up getting us the best deal possible... which she did. I now pay about half what I was paying, and I've got so many new features it's not even funny!

One of the coolest things (or geekiest, if you look at it that way) is that we were able to get matching Motorola Razr phones, mine in "Charcoal" and her's in "Metallic Pink". They are so much better than what we had been using!

Although I was excited about the new phone, I quickly became worried about its quality when I noticed I needed to charge it almost every day! And I hardly use it because I work at a desk all day where there's a perfectly good land line! I figured if the battery was that bad when the phone's brand new, what would it be like in a month? A year? How much money was I going to have to sink into this thing before I could afford to get a better unit?

Then, I noticed something... I had just taken the phone, in it's handy leather carrying case, off my belt, and I could see a glow coming from the crack where the flip folds over. The display was on and fully lit! And this despite the fact that I have the settings set to turn the backlight off after 10 seconds and the display off after 2 minutes. If I hadn't even opened the phone yet, why was it on?

It turns out that this cool little phone has an Achilles Heal in the form of an external menu button, located on the side. There's actually 3 of these little silver devils, conveniently placed right where your thumb or finger can reach when you're holding the phone, open or closed. Unfortunately, the button in question is in just the right spot to get pressed constantly by the tight interior of the above-mentioned leather carrying case! All this time I thought the battery was crap, and it was a simple little button!

So, I charged the phone up on Sunday night, carried the phone in my pocket instead of in the case, and today (Thursday) was the first day that the power indicator dropped below FULL. How sweet is that?

I'm still kind of choked because I need a way to carry the phone around, but all the cases I've seen create the same problem. I find it curious that Motorola didn't notice this and alter the design of the phone or the case to eliminate it.

Oh well, on the bright side, I suppose it's going to end up being easier and cheaper to find an alternate carrying solution than it would have been to replace the phone...

A Fellow Addict

2006-11-08T06:53:00.000-07:00

I read this just yesterday in Anne Rice's novel "Lasher":

"Yuri loved the coffee. A pot of it. His hands would soon be trembling and he would have indigestion, but he didn't care. When you love coffee you abandon everything to that love."

I've been a fan of her writing for years, but this single paragraph has clinched it for me!

Way to go, Anne!

My Seven Favorite Songs...?

2006-10-17T12:39:00.000-06:00

In an attempt to be something of a smart-ass by commenting on one of Quilldancer's recent blog posts (although "recent" is somewhat of a relative term for someone who posts more in a week than I do in 6 months!), I unwittingly called on the wrath of the "tag". I've now been challenged to list my 7 favorite songs of all time, including why I like them.

Let me begin by saying, I really don't go for these "tag" things anymore, but this particular one gave me a bit of an idea. Instead of doing as I've been told (which, according to my parents and so many teachers, is apparently not something I'm very good at), I'm going to change things up a bit and just leave it at that. The tag stops here.

With the broad range of music I have been exposed to in my 35 years on this planet, and the number of people who have influenced my musical tastes along the way, there's no chance that I can boil it all down to just 7 definitive tracks. However, just thinking about it caused me to stumble across something perhaps a little more interesting...

Have you ever noticed how certain songs will conjure up the same exact memory for you every time you hear it? Maybe it's a recollection of the first time you heard the song, perhaps it's the face of an ex-boyfriend/girlfriend with whom you declared the tune "Our Song", or even just the feeling of being a wallflower at a Jr. High dance. These "magical" songs don't necessarily have to be our "favorites" (in fact, sometimes we actually hate them), but they certainly carry a unique power all their own to instantly and invariably transport us backward through time, if only for a moment.

Below are a few selected songs that, whenever I hear them, make me tell Chana a story she's probably heard as many times as she's heard the song. And now you get to suffer the same fate! Aren't you lucky? I've tried to add a link to the video for the song where I could, but I've had to settle for 30-second audio clips in some cases...

Another Brick in the Wall - Pink Floyd
I can't count how many hard-earned quarters I ended up dropping into the jukebox at the little pizzeria in our neighborhood when I was 9, just so I could hear this one tune. And, considering I was addicted to video games and the arcade was right next door, you can tell how much I loved the song! The best moment, though, was when the old Italian guy who owned the place showed me how to reach behind the jukebox to turn it up!

Mr. Roboto - Styx
I think you need to be a true child of the 80's to tolerate, let alone like, this song... Hence the reason I love it to this day! It's one of the songs that I used to play when I was 13 and force my two younger brothers, J and M, into air-banding with me (just alone in the basement, not in front of actual people). I lip-synced into the power-head extension of Mom's Electrolux vacuum cleaner, J stood to the side on his trusty air-guitar, and M sat at the imaginary drum kit. M wasn't a very good drummer, though (at least, by my standards), so I'd usually end up yelling, showing him how to do it properly again, then turning the music off in frustration. Temperamental musician, eh? We didn't need Yoko to break up that band!

Axel F - Harold Faltermeyer
Cast your mind back to a time before Crazy Frog annihilated this song... When I was 14, we moved to Vancouver Island, to a little community outside Nanaimo called Cedar by the Sea. The house we lived in was absolutely awesome. It was built on a steep hill (I hesitate to say "cliff" lest it give the wrong image), had a fireplace in the main livingroom, and a huge balcony across the entire front which gave an unobstructed view of the ocean. It wasn't uncommon to see seals or dolphins out there. Once, we even saw 3 killer whales! Although it was a fair-sized home, I had to share a bedroom with my younger brother M. And, since we didn't have a lot of money, there was only one queen-sized bed for the 2 of us. Well, there was no way I, a teenager, was going to share a bed with my 8-year old brother! Instead, I set up a camping mattress on the floor and staked my claim. I would lie there at night and listen to the Top 10 at 10 on my clock radio, awash in the green glow of the LEDs, and wait to hear the synthesized sounds of Axel F, which stayed at No. 1 for a long time.

Money for Nothing - Dire Straits
While I was living on Vancouver Island, I had a best friend who lived a few miles away, in a beautiful house on a acreage by a lake. I think his Dad was an architect or an engineer or something... Anyway, he was the first person I ever knew who had satellite TV, with the gigantic dish in his yard and everything. It was on that satellite TV that I had the priviledge of watching MTV's World Premiere showing of the Money for Nothing video, an absolute technological marvel at the time. Now, I can't hear that signature Mark Knopfler guitar riff without immediately remembering all the fun we had at that house in the summer of '85.

One Night in Bangkok - Murray Head
Okay, one last one from the infamous Summer of '85... This one actually kinda creeped me out back then. You see, that best friend of mine had just started going to church and would tell me, heathen that I was, about all the evil in the world that we needed to protect ourselves from. So, after one of his baseball games in Nanaimo (in which he was the pitcher and took a ball to the face) when we heard this song and the lyric "I can feel the devil walking next to me" I practically jumped out of my skin! Okay, so I over-reacted... It wasn't until years later that I understood the song to be about the game of chess. Oddly enough, chess is something of a hobby for me now (more on that some other time).

The Way It Is - Bruce Hornsby and the Range
By the time I was in High School, I was no longer living with my parents and siblings. They had continued with the gypsy ways I had known only too well growing up, while I had opted to stay in the "big city" to finish my schooling. This meant that I saw them seldomly. But for Christmas of 1987, they came to Calgary for a visit, and took me home with them to Prince Rupert, BC for the holidays. It was a short visit (only a couple of weeks) but it was good to spend the time with my brothers again. J had received a "ghetto blaster" for Christmas and we played his "Rock '87" cassette over and over. I think this was actually the first track on the tape, or else it was the only good track... I'm not sure. It was always hit and miss with those K-Tel records... Either way, this particular piano melody always makes me think of the cold grey north Pacific skies over lush green lawns.

38 Years Old - The Tragically Hip
I riding around one evening in the car of a buddy from college (one who would eventually become a college roommate and one of my biggest musical influences) when I first heard the wavering, haunting voice of Gordon Downie, lead singer of the Hip. My friend asked if I'd ever heard of them before and, even though they are a Canadian band, I hadn't (don't all Canadians know each other?). He got me to listen to this song and I was immediately hooked. I can picture stopping at a red light near the Safeway by our college while the song played. That's the image that has stayed with me all these years. Ironically, it's a stop light I'm at frequently now as I live about 2 blocks from there!

That was the 7 I was obligated to post. Now for the bonus track:

Zoo Station - U2
As I mentioned above, the friend who introduced me to the Hip eventually became a roommate of mine. The day us guys (there were actually 4 of us) took possession of the townhouse we rented, that particular friend had to work, but he told me I could set up his stereo. Now, you have to understand just how "into" music this guys was: He owned more LPs than anyone else I have ever known, his stereo had more components than I knew what to do with, and he had even done a stint as a radio DJ at the University of PEI. I was, to say the least, nervous about setting up his gear. Of course, I was also young an stupid, so I did it anyway. Well... Once I had everything hooked up, I decided to throw in the U2 Achtung Baby CD, which had only recently been released. I knew a couple of the tracks, and U2 had always been a favorite of mine. The drawer slid shut silently, the LED read-out told me it was "loading..." and then the time flashed "0:00" and started counting up. As the music started to play, my heart jumped into my throat! Oh no! I'd hooked something up wrong and ruined his speakers! He was going to kill me! Of course, if you know the song "Zoo Station" as well as I do now, you'll know that the distortion I heard at the beginning is actually just an effect and was not my fault. I still think about how much money I would have owed him...

Photo of the Week: Light at the End

2006-10-05T06:42:00.000-06:00

The Othello Tunnels along an old portion of the Kettle Valley Railway offer a sense of awesome majesty in a beautiful part of British Columbia.
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Boring Childhood Stories: Black Death

2006-10-01T22:30:00.000-06:00

This one goes way back...

When I was four years old, my parents used to buy pop (soda, for you American readers) from a little place called The Pop Shoppe. The brand? Why, Pic-a-Pop, of course! It was the greatest thing ever! Practically any flavor of pop you could imagine, sold in the classic glass bottles (not that any pop actually came in plastic bottles back then), 350ml or 1 litre sizes. Heck, they even supplied these big plastic crates in case you bought that many bottles! To a kid, it was heaven.

Well, one day (maybe it was a birthday, maybe it was just a weekend) there were a bunch of people at our house, and everyone was drinking Pic-a-Pop. I had my grubby little fingers wrapped around a tall cold bottle of Black Cherry pop. I'd like to think that my parents saw me as a "big boy", able to handle a whole bottle of pop to himself, but it's probably closer to the truth to assume I had whined and begged until Mom finally gave in, just to make me shut up. But who cares? I had me some Black Cherry pop!

Now, my memory of the next few hours are pretty sketchy (we are talking over 30 years ago, you know) but suffice it to say that I eventually found myself at the hospital. I think the technical term my mother used was "non-stop puking", or something to that effect. And I'm not talking about your routine trip to the ER to wait for hours just to be told that you are sick and should be at home... No, I'm talking about checking in, undressing, and being confined to this horrible bed with huge metal railings along the side, not unlike prison bars.

I remember being told that I would be okay, that I wouldn't have to stay long, and that I'd be able to play in the playroom down the hall. Well, I had to endure a thermometer in a place I never would have dreamt of sticking one, the stay actually lasted 2 nights, and the nurses wouldn't let me go to the playroom. Instead, they brought me this lame little inch-worm riding toy that I already had at home and had already outgrown 2 years before.

For years after that experience (15 of them, to be precise) I lived under the assumption that I was deathly allergic to Black Cherry pop, and avoided it like the Plague. I wasn't actually told I was allergic to it, mind you, but it seemed entirely logical to my little four-year old mind.

Then came the year I was 17. You know the one... That time in your life when you not only know everything there is to know about everything, but are also completely indestructible. Well, while surrounded by a bunch of friends at a little get-together, I noticed someone had brought a couple litres of Black Cherry pop to the party. I stared at it for a long time. I think I even told my "non-stop puking" story to someone at one point. And then I made a decision. I decided to put the whole allergy theory to the test, once and for all.

I suppose I could have poured myself a little bit in a glass, told everyone to keep a close eye on me in case I needed help, a took a few tentative sips. But, it went more like this: Grab bottle, unscrew cap, drink entire contents of bottle, run around the room telling everyone, "I'm not puking! I'm not puking!"

I wonder why I didn't have more friends in High School?

Anyway, I guess I figured out that night that I wasn't allergic to Black Cherry pop after all. Something made me spew like the kid from the Exorcist when I was 4, but that particular demon had obviously left me. Maybe it was afraid of another visit from that thermometer...

We've All Been There

2006-09-28T06:02:00.000-06:00

This one is sheer brilliance! Ironically, a co-worker who spends his days in a "cube" showed it to me... Enjoy!

Well! I'll Be a Monkey's Uncle!

2006-09-19T21:45:00.000-06:00

This is the story of Marshmallow.

Marshmallow (despite the inevitable image this word conjures up) is not a sticky, sweet campfire treat. Rather, he is a cuddly, lovable, plush monkey. More importantly, he is a cuddly, lovable, plush monkey that belongs to Keka.

Or did, up until a few weeks ago. Let me explain...

Marshmallow entered little Keka's life last year, just before Christmas. As a matter of fact, it was during one of her many Christmas present shopping excursions that Chana stumbled across the adorable little monkey and the matching, twice-the-size Momma Monkey. As you may or may not already know, Chana has a bit of a soft spot for our furry primate friends, so she scooped the two of them up without a second thought. What a perfect present to share with her youngest daughter... a Momma and a Baby, just like them.

Well, even though Chana is the kind of person who will buy presents months in advance and keep them a total secret (or try to), I guess some gifts are just too good to hold on to because she "let the monkeys out of the bag" (to coin a phrase... sort of) as soon as she got back to the car! Keka fell in love instantly. She named her new best buddy "Marshmallow" and gave the Momma a name you would recognize as very appropriate if you knew Chana in person. And thus began the unbreakable friendship.

Now, let's skip ahead to the final days of this year's Summer Holidays. Chana and I, as you have probably read, took all six of our kids out to visit my Mom in Hope, BC and to Vancouver to see the ocean for the very first time in their lives. Even though it was a whirlwind tour and we could easily have stayed another 2 weeks, we had an awesome time and were able to show the kids some things they just don't have the opportunity to see back home. As silly as it may sound, one of these things was IHOP. Chana and I have always made a point of stopping at IHOP whenever we are on holidays, since there are none at all in Alberta, and decided to take the kids there for a "treat" dinner after visiting the Vancouver Aquarium all day.

I know what you're thinking... You're thinking, "What? Pancakes for supper?!?" Well, it may not be the most nutritious meal, granted, but they're only kids once, right? What's wrong with breaking the rules once in a while?

Well, about 4 hours later, in the middle of the night, we all knew what was wrong with the idea.

Apparently, when a 9-year old girl eats at IHOP for the very first time and finds it delicious ("yummy" in kid terms), said girl runs the risk of over-stuffing her little stomach ("tummy" in kid terms). Following such a stuffing, the "tummy", it seems, runs a high risk of engaging its "purge function" over the more traditional slow digestion. Should this occur while the child is in a wakened state, a simple panicked sprint to the nearest washroom can have the situation well in hand relatively quickly, with only minor discomfort, and virtually no mess.

However...

Should the child fall asleep shortly after the stuffing, as was the case with poor Keka, the "inverted digestion process" becomes much more uncomfortable, and the "collateral damage" to surrounding bedsheets, rugs, and monkeys named Marshmallow can be quite serious. While it was a simple, if unpleasant, matter of some scooping, scraping, bag-tying, scrubbing, and laundering to take care of the linen and carpets, I'm afraid the particular polystyrene inner components of Keka's plush pet prevented us from being able to adequately clean him, thus leaving him in a decidedly un-cuddly state.

I left the poor, soiled creature on the deck for a day, hoping to dry him out enough that we'd be able to rid him of most of his new, unpleasant coating, but it was to no avail. By the time we returned home to Calgary, Marshmallow was no more.

Keka was devastated. She came to accept the fact that Marshmallow was forever ruined and that she'd never again fall asleep with her little cheek pressed up against his, but she wanted to say one last goodbye. Chana tried to tell her that it was too "yucky", but Keka insisted. And that's when things went from bad to worse...

Although nobody recalls throwing the little guy out, neither he nor the tightly tied bag he was in were anywhere to be found. Keka fell asleep crying that night.

Fear not, for this story has a happy ending. You just have to be patient.

Last Friday after work, Chana and I took Keka and my daughter to the store where Marshmallow had originally been purchased because she had been promised we would at least try to find another one. Now, you have to understand something... This wasn't one of your more common stuffed animal that you're going to find dozens of on a shelf at Toys R Us. It was one of those cute, I've-never-seen-this-before-and-probably-never-will-again types. You know what I mean. So, even though we were going back to the same store, we had already warned Keka not to get her hopes up and to be prepared to possibly find a new best friend.

As we guessed, there was no Marshmallow. And, as we should have guessed, there was nothing there that could catch Keka's eye with the memory of Marshmallow still so fresh in her mind. Disappointed, we left and headed back home. On the way, though, I decided to stop at Toys R Us, just in case. Sadly, although there were a ton of cute and cuddly little furry friends to choose from, none of them were Marshmallow. There was only one more place to check before giving up... Zellers, at the other end of the mall.

Now, Zellers isn't exactly the greatest department store. They are what I'd call "almost-adequate". So, we told Keka in no uncertain terms that there would be no Marshmallow here, but possibly a different animal that she could learn to love. She may only be 9, but she understood and let us take her to the toy department.

On the way, the girls got a little side-tracked by the display of Halloween costumes, trying on mad-hatter hats and trying to scare each other with rubber masks. This meant that I arrived at the aisle with the plush toys before the rest of them did. I have to tell you, I'm not sure if I've ever seen a more pathetic collection of stuffed animals. There were very few to choose from, and what was there was not of the highest quality. It was sort of like the crappy prizes they give away at carnivals after you've spent $50 trying to get a stupid plastic ring to land just right on a soda pop bottle. Poor Keka.

And then I saw Marshmallow. I couldn't believe my eyes! There, right on top, was Marshmallow! Not ruined and smelly like the last time he was seen, but restored to his former state of glory... And he was the only one! In fact, there wasn't even a sign to indicate Zellers even sold this toy, or how much he cost. I felt like I'd just stepped into the Twilight Zone! In a heartbeat, I grabbed the monkey and ran to find Keka.

I'll never be able to properly describe the look in that little girl's eyes as she took Marshmallow and crushed him against herself. It was as if she had just witnessed a miracle.

Who knows? Maybe she had.

Unrequited Geeking

2006-09-14T20:42:00.000-06:00

Last weekend, while Chana and I were just sitting around the house, she happened to show me something in a flyer. To be perfectly honest with you, I have no idea what that "something" was, though, because a completely different "something" caught my eye instead. And that "something" was a Skype-enabled USB phone. Now, whether you know what that is or not, you might be thinking that it sounds a little on the geeky side...

And how!

Okay, just so we're all on the same page here, Skype is a web-based service that allows you to use your PC to call other PCs also running Skype (voice chat, essentially), but can also be used to make and receive calls to and from mobile phones and landlines. The PC to PC method is absolutely free, PC to landline/mobile calls are dirt-cheap (or free in the U.S. and Canada until the end of the year), and a to purchase a number that landline/mobile users can call to reach you on your PC costs about $45CAD per year.

Basically, it's simply the freakin' cheapest telephone setup possible, short of tapping into your neighbor's line.

Don't want to sit around with a headset and mic every time you want to make a call? Yeah, me neither! And that's where the Skype-enabled USB phone comes in. You simply plug this little baby into an available USB port (has anyone ever tried to plug something into an unavailable USB port?) the way you would plug a normal phone into a walljack, get Skype running on your PC, and away you go. Simple, tidy, and (in case I haven't mentioned it) cheap.

So, after seeing that London Drugs, one of our local retailers, was having a sale on these phones, I made a point of stopping in to get one. You see, I don't have a home phone. I have a cell phone, which is better for me because I'm not home enough to have a real phone just sitting there collecting dust and costing money. But, if you've ever had a conversation on a cell phone for more than 3 minutes, you know what a pain it is to hold on to the stupid thing while you try to go about making dinner, washing dishes, or whatever. So, I figured, since this USB-thingy was so cheap, and Skype is so cheap, not to mention that I'm so cheap, I might as well get myself hooked up with the whole thing.

As is my luck, not only had the sale not started yet, but the product hadn't even been delivered. Now, I'm not exactly what you'd call the most patient person in the world, especially when it comes to geeking-out, so I immediately started looking around for other places to buy a Skype phone. Future Shop had one, but it was too expensive. Best Buy had one on sale, but the sale ended the day before. A small shop near where I work had one, but a little research online told me it was garbage. And then I stumbled across one with a name I recognized, got good ratings online, and only cost $26. And the store was right across the street from where I work! Awesome!

Knowing I was going to go get one on my coffee break, I decided to log into my Skype account and purchase a SkypeIn number... You know, sort of get everything set up so I could just go home, plug in my new gadget and wait for someone to call me. And that's when my whole plan came crashing down around me like a house of cards.

It seems that there are no Canadian SkypeIn numbers yet. I can get one in the States, in England, heck, I can even get one in Poland, but then people would have to call there to reach me. Kinda defeats the purpose! I can still use Skype to make calls from my PC, no problem, but nobody can call me.

Apparently, it has something to do with the Canadian Radio-Television Commission not releasing Canadian phone numbers to Skype because Skype does not offer a 911 service. I think that's a load of crap since Skype isn't trying to be a telephone provider, per se, and there are other applications similar to Skype that do offer Canadian numbers, like vbuzzer. I could go with one of those, but I'd be more comfortable sticking with a company and application with a good reputation. I don't want to buy something from somebody, only to find out the quality is crap, you know?

So, no Skype-enabled USB phone for me, for now. Until the CRTC relaxes a bit, I'll have to find something else to do with my computer to ease this current need to geek-out... Any suggestions?

Gratuitous Comeback

2006-09-07T03:21:00.000-06:00

Last night, we took Chana's eldest and youngest daughters out for dinner to celebrate their respective birthdays. The place wasn't busy at all, and we only had 3 of the 6 kids in tow (mine was the third), but the service still started off a little slow. Usually this annoys me, but tonight I have to admit that I didn't really notice until the waitress apologized to us.

She started telling us about the crazy day she'd been having, in that way waitresses do... You know, like you're one of their friends whose just popped by for a visit. She explained that she'd had to go back to the kitchen four times on her shift already to make corrections, which didn't exactly instill any confidence in us, as we hadn't yet placed our soon-to-be-mixed-up orders. Then she went on to tell us that one of her tables had left a huge tip for her, but probably because they felt sorry for her, rather than for the service.

I had no idea how to respond to this, but Chana stepped in and saved the day with the funniest one-liner ever, delivered in her usual, deeply heart-felt voice:

"Oh, honey. Don't you worry... We won't make that mistake."