About a dozen years ago, the Clinton administration claimed its government finances were in a surplus for the first time anyone could remember. However, the only way one could make sense of the claim was by assuming that debt owed to the Social Security trust fund was not really debt. The media, predictably, bought into the claim and the assumption. However, the fact was that it was the Social Security trust fund that had the surplus. The rest of the government continued to bleed red ink, just as in previous administrations.

Fast forward to this year.

The treasury is now very close to reaching the statutory debt ceiling, and President Obama is eager to cut a deal that will enable him not to deal with the issue again until well after the 2012 elections. To make his case to the nation, he is threatening the nation’s retirees. Without a debt ceiling increase, he claims, the government may not be able to send out Social Security checks next month.

So now, it would seem, the money owed to the Social Security trust fund is really debt after all. Otherwise, retirees would have nothing to worry about. The implication of the threat, of course, is that the Clinton “surplus” was merely a pleasant fiction.

Here’s a photo of Russy, standing on high alert on the kitchen counter. I have no idea what he sees or thinks he sees. The picture was taken March 23 this year.

Russy is on alert on the kitchen counter

If that’s not enjoyable enough for you, you can click on the photo to get the larger version.

Now that we have that behind us, let’s move along to my wrap-up of this week’s posts, shall we?

• Humor at work: Hear what? For a brief moment this week, I actually had fun at work.
• Unusual: A two-dollar bill in my change. After finding a two-dollar bill in my change at Dunkin’ Donuts, I speculate on its source.

At my Pilgrimito blog, I updated Finding the not-so-secret hidden pizza joint at the Cosmopolitan with a photo. If you plan to visit, the photo may help you find it. Or it may not.

But enough of me. Here are some posts I’ve enjoyed from elsewhere around the web over the past several days:

• Wired: Writer Evan Ratliff Tried to Vanish: Here’s What Happened. Hardly new, but in light of last week’s capture of Whitey Bulger, it’s an interesting re-read.
• Invisible Privacy: Form DS-5513. When the ACLU and Glenn Beck agree on something, it can’t be good. If you don’t have a passport, get one now before the State Department makes it nearly impossible.
• Daniel Amitay: Most Common iPhone Passcodes. My wife changed her iPhone password after reading this.
• Thomas Peters: Pope Benedict Tweets from His iPad. The Pope announces the launch of the new Vatican news portal. Via Twitter. From his iPad. Omg!

That is all, my friends.

And a two.

How often do you see these?

I’m pretty sure the last time I received a two-dollar bill in my change was the day I visited Monticello. They give change in twos because Thomas Jefferson is the portrait on the bill. That happened back when I lived in Charlottesville, Virginia. I haven’t lived there for years.

The first thing I thought of when I counted my change was James Altucher’s blog. He once wrote about how, in his younger days, he would try to impress dates by paying for dinner with two-dollar bills. It’s not clear whether or not it worked. I wondered if he’d been in Phoenix eating a donut on a Wednesday afternoon in June. Probably not.

It more likely came from the strip club down the street. The Federal Reserve noticed the circulation of two-dollar bills started to increase a decade ago in the United States, at least in part because they’re used for change in adult entertainment establishments. The theory is that since the change is used for tips, bigger bills mean bigger tips. I didn’t notice any stripper glitter in my change.

In any event, I’ll have to be careful where I spend it. Best Buy has had people arrested for tendering two-dollar bills.

Update (6/30): A link to another good story about misadventures with two-dollar bills, this one involving Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak.

Today, for some reason, there was a high-pitched whistle in my work area. I don’t know if a compuer hard drive came off its axle or if a steam pipe in the ceiling had a temporary release or something. It was loud, whatever it was.

So when the boss came out of her office to ask if we all could hear that noise, I couldn’t resist what I said next.

Hear what?

See, kids. That’s how you make friends.

If you prefer the format here at Pearls of Nonsense, don’t worry. I’ll be back to writing irrelevant nonsense in the very near future.

Nationwide, there are a handful of interesting contests. A few states have important elections in odd-numbered years, and a couple states, New Jersey and Virginia, are electing governors today. There is a special congressional election in New York that’s getting a lot of attention, and of course everyone is talking about the marriage referendum in Maine.

Here in Arizona, there are no statewide ballot questions this year, which is something of a relief. However, I live in the Paradise Valley Unified School District, where there is a question concerning a budget override. I’m rather unconvinced of the need for a new tax levy at a time when the price of nearly everything is stable or falling. I got robocalled several times by override supporters to remind me a student from the district got into Brown last year. Seriously, that’s all they had. Not that it mattered, because I voted no the day the ballot arrived in the mail.

Of course, my vote doesn’t really matter either, since budget overrides usually pass by overwhelming margins. This is because it’s typically only the voters with a serious interest in the outcome who bother to vote in special elections. Think about it. As a property owner, I look at my school district levy, which was a little under $1000 this year, and realize a small increase isn’t really going to change my lifestyle one way or the other. Only a sense of civic duty motivated me to get off my butt and vote at all, and let’s face it, that sense is pretty rare nowadays. On top of that, many of the individuals who’d have to pay for the override don’t get a vote at all. For example, the prior owner of my home lived out of state, so she would have had no say either way.

On the other hand, teachers and staffers at district schools, as well as members of their families, may individually have a great deal to gain or lose from a small change in the district’s budget. It’s likely they’ll also persuade some others who are sympathetic for one reason or another, especially parents of students. That’s who you’ll see voting today. You can bet the turnout will be low, but they’ll almost all be voting yes.

So I ask, what’s the value of free chicken when there’s no chicken to be had? Even if the store offers you a rain check, which may be what the promotion is implying, is your family really going to prefer a free chicken tomorrow to a $4.99 chicken tonight? Personally, I don’t go out to buy a cooked chicken unless I’m ready to eat it.

This idea of attaching a price to things that don’t exist reminds me of the gasoline shortage several years ago here in the Valley. A number of gas retailers were accused of “gouging” consumers by raising pump prices well above the pre-crisis level. Of course, among the retailers that kept their prices low, most found themselves quickly out of stock. Not exactly a surprise.

If your car’s fuel gauge is on empty and you have to get to work, would you prefer a gallon of gas right now at $3.99, or would you prefer knowing the guy in front of you got the last gallon for $2.19?

Unlike your family, your car won’t be satisfied with a pizza instead.

Sunday was the final day of our trip to Los Angeles, and it wasn’t really supposed to be much of a day for us. The plan was to get up early, pack up our things, find a place to attend mass, and make the long drive back to Phoenix.

In fact, it turned out to be a day of pleasant surprises.

Once again, we arose early, and mindful of the mass we’d be attending, we wanted to eat light. We wanted to try something a little different than the deluxe continental breakfast at the hotel, so we walked a block to a nearby donut shop. We each had a donut and a drink, and although they weren’t the best donuts we’d even had, they were far being from the worst. The coffee was pretty bad, but everything was cheap. With a long drive later in the day, I didn’t want to start out with too much coffee anyway.

We headed back to the room and started getting ready to check out. In the meantime, I called around to find out mass times. Typically, when Kathryn and I go out of town for the weekend, I call ahead before we leave to find out mass times at nearby churches, allowing us to plan accordingly. This time, I researched the nearby churches but forgot to write down the mass times. The church nearest to the hotel was the cathedral for the archdiocese of Los Angeles, Our Lady of the Angels, but we thought it might be nice to go back to St. Francis of Assisi where we were the morning before. However, when I called St. Francis for mass times, I ended up in a voice response endless loop, and naturally the office wasn’t open. So I ended up calling the cathedral and found its masses in English were at 8 and 10. It was already after 7 and we hadn’t showered or packed yet, so we planned for the mass at 10.

We checked out of the hotel and arrived at Our Lady of the Angels around 9:30. I’d never been to a church quite like it before. It sits on a massive complex, with its own multilevel parking garage and plaza, including a restaurant and gift shop. Its modern architecture, admittedly somewhat imposing and unpleasant when viewing it from the freeway, is much more appealing close up. It’s hard to describe the inside of the cathedral, but the way the lines of the structure itself came together with the sacred art adorning its walls really just worked for me. I guess I was surprised that concrete poured a few years ago could evoke the same emotions as stone laid centuries ago. I liked it.

We were also surprised to see a number of our fellow parishioners there. We had assumed most of them would go back to St. Francis, especially since many of them had chosen hotels closer to that church, whereas Kathryn and I had opted for the cheaper downtown option. Maybe the mass times were more convenient at the cathedral, we thought. It would become clear later why so many were at this mass.

Since we had arrived quite early, we had a lot of time to ourselves before the mass began, so we sat close to one another in our pew and admired the church. About 20 minutes before mass was scheduled to begin, one of the ushers asked the couple seated next to us if they’d like to present the gifts. They were reluctant, so the usher then asked us. For those of you who don’t know what this means, during some masses, before communion, the unconsecrated bread and wine are brought forward to the altar from some point in the church, usually by one or more couples chosen from among the faithful in attendance. Kathryn and I have done this a few times at our own church, and so we told the usher we’d love to help out.

Since every church presents the gifts a little differently, the three couples who would present the gifts gathered together to receive brief instructions from the ushers. At this point, we learned Cardinal Mahony would be presiding the mass. Oh my God, we’d be presenting gifts to a cardinal! We had seen His Eminence outside the cathedral, where he was blessing people walking out as we walked in. We assumed he’d presided the mass at 8 and that we’d have a different priest. Anyway, we were totally excited for this, and a bit nervous too!

Mass began with a beautiful procession, including incense, which started in the rear of this very large cathedral and took several minutes to reach the altar. Kathryn and I had moved our seats so that we didn’t have to step over people during the presentation, and as a result we ended up with great view of the procession. Then we had another surprise. Our own pastor, Fr. Vince, was in the procession! It turns out he was one of the celebrants of the mass. That explains why so many folks from the parish were at this mass. He was surprised to see us too and gave us a quick wave. However, he didn’t know we’d also be at the altar a little later.

In addition to Fr. Vince, a couple other priests were at the altar, including a bishop from South America who was raising funds for his very poor diocese. I regret that I’ve forgotten which diocese and which country. We felt a little sorry for our own pastor. After the bishop received such a long introduction from the cardinal, Fr. Vince got only a few words. I hope he was happy just to be there.

The mass was beautiful. The bishop from South America gave the homily. It was uplifting to hear about the faith of the poor people he shepherds. On the other hand, the readings for that Sunday were, for Kathryn and me at least, somewhat challenging, particularly the second one from Ephesians, and I would have enjoyed a bit more explanation. I guess we’ll hear it again in three years.

The presentation went smoothly. Kathryn and I were the second couple in the procession, each of us carrying a large pewter pitcher of wine. The bread was carried by the couple behind us. We bowed as we were instructed. Cardinal Mahony is quite tall.

After the mass ended, we ran into Fr. Vince in a side corridor. We all expressed our mutual surprise that he’d concelebrated the mass and we’d presented the gifts. He asked us if we’d been downstairs yet. Downstairs? We didn’t even know there was a downstairs. He told us it was the best part of the cathedral and that we had to check it out. So we gave him a hug, left him to his groupies that were starting to crowd him, and went off to find the stairs.

It turns out he was right. The sub-level of the cathedral is taken up almost entirely by a mausoleum. It’s very peaceful. One celebrity tomb we found belonged to Gregory Peck. However, the mausoleum remains mostly unused, with only a few crypts occupied and a few others marked reserved. Adjacent to the mausoleum is the tomb containing the remains of St. Vibiana, the patron saint of the original Los Angeles cathedral, which was damaged beyond repair by an earthquake in 1994. There is also a beautiful chapel on the sub-level. It would be the perfect size for a weekday mass, but I don’t know if they use it for that purpose. Even if you’re not there for a mass, I’d highly recommend visiting the cathedral if you’re in Los Angeles, if only to see the mausoleum.

Before we left, we did stop in the gift shop. We’ve been shopping for the perfect pyx for months now, but they didn’t have any at all. We’ll keep looking.

There was one lone protester camped just outside the cathedral complex. He carried a sign that said “Phony Mahony”. There also appeared to be a sticker representing a Bavarian flag on his sign. There was no further explanation, and I really didn’t want to engage the guy in a conversation.

The cathedral is located near several major freeways, including I-10, so getting back on the road again was a piece of cake. The trip home was a mirror image of the trip there. We stopped at the same Carl’s Jr. near Palm Springs for another Big Carl and at the same McDonald’s in Quartzsite for another coffee. A thunderstorm with some light hail kicked up while we were in Quartzsite. We let the wind die down before we pressed on. There was some flooding just off the freeway, but the freeway itself was fine. We arrived home safely before dark.

To those of you who already read the first two parts, thanks for your patience. The third part took longer to finish than I anticipated.

For the most part, Kathryn and I slept pretty well the first night in L.A. I was woken up by a bit of noise around the pool area at midnight, but I got back to sleep pretty quickly. What woke me up was the sound of a beer bottle hitting the ground. Luckily it didn’t break. The managers must have given the folks a talking to, because they drank from cans the following night.

We woke relatively early Saturday, around 6:30 or so, knowing we had a big day in front of us. We had a light, early breakfast at the hotel, mindful of the fact we’d be attending mass later. The breakfast served was what a lot of hotels now refer to as deluxe continental, which means continental plus a waffle iron. Kathryn and I shared a waffle and each had some cereal and something to drink. After heading back to the room to shower and dress, we got in the car and headed over to St. Francis.

The mass started at 10 am, but I really wanted to get us there early, thinking that parking and seating might be at a premium. Good thing we did. We arrived around 9:30 and got one of the last few spaces in the parking lot. Most folks were milling outside the church, and we said some hellos to people we knew. We then went in and took a seat. The church filled quickly, and it was 10 before we knew it.

This was the first time we’d been to a profession of solemn vows, and I really didn’t know much about what was going to happen. Four brothers were professing, including the one from our parish, Br. Jeff. The church was full of Franciscan friars, including the associate pastor of our parish, Fr. Alonso, and the pastor, Fr. Vince, who was leading the choir. From my own experience, the closest thing I could compare it to is a wedding. Instead of a bride and groom professing fidelity to one another, these new brothers were professing fidelity to the order.

The liturgy was beautiful. The readings and the solemn vows were in three different languages — English, Spanish, and Vietnamese — reflecting the diverse cultural backgrounds of the new friars. This diversity was also reflected in the community in attendance. One of the most touching moments came at the end of the mass, after communion, when the assembly of friars all sang a hymn to their newest brothers.

A reception followed the mass, and although the food looked great, we didn’t stay long. We congratulated Br. Jeff, chatted with a few people we knew, waited for the blessing, and headed for the exit.

Back at the hotel, our minds turned to lunch. Before leaving for L.A., I did a search on Yelp and printed out a list of the top ten rated inexpensive restaurants in the neighborhood around our hotel. We passed one of them on the way back to the hotel, a Jewish delicatessen called Langer’s, so we decided to walk there for a bite. We shared a No. 19 sandwich, which is pastrami, Swiss cheese, cole slaw, and Russian dressing on rye bread. (In case you’re wondering, yes, Kathryn and I share our meals a lot. That’s why we both have such stunning figures.) The sandwich was absolutely perfect. It was one of those special moments where you realize your meal is at an equilibrium point such that changing any one thing would make it something less than what it was. Perhaps it’s not a surprise that Langer’s has been in the same spot doing the same thing for over 50 years. And it was a good thing we went when we did. The restaurant closes at 4 pm every day and is closed Sundays. Our late lunch Saturday was our last chance for this visit.

After lunch, we decided to walk across the street to MacArthur Park, just to say we were there. It looks nicer from a distance. When you’re close enough to see how bare the grass is and how strung out the visitors are, it’s hard to find it pretty. That said, the streets around the park were all quite lively during the day, and we didn’t feel particularly unsafe. People were walking everywhere. Shops all had business. I made a conscious observation of how few vacant storefronts there were. At home in the Valley, it seems like every other storefront is vacant in the typical suburban strip mall, yet in the middle of the urban ghetto in L.A., business was booming everywhere. I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned here.

Our bellies full, we went back to the hotel to rest for a while, but not for too long. We still had more to do.

We decided the best way to see the ocean would be to take a drive up the Pacific Coast Highway. There was a lot of traffic in the late afternoon, but that just meant we were able to slow down and enjoy the view. We started the drive in Santa Monica and continued north and west to Malibu. We drove for about an hour, and then came back the same way, stopping in Malibu for a stroll on the pier. The air was so humid we could actually see the moisture. It felt like it could turn to fog at any moment, but it didn’t while we were there.

After the drive along the coast, it was time to head to another iconic restaurant, Bob’s Big Boy in Burbank. We arrived there around 7 pm, and we expected to wait a while for a table, but in fact we only waited about 15 minutes, which gave us time to get photos of the Big Boy statue out front. We each ordered an Original Big Boy Combo, which is a double-decker burger with fries and a house salad, and we shared an hot fudge ice cream brownie dessert. We definitely enjoyed the food, but I think what we enjoyed even more was the old-school coffee shop atmosphere.

Before heading back to the hotel, we took a detour to find a pharmacy to fill a prescription we forgot to take care of before we left Phoenix. Our GPS dutifully found the nearest CVS for us, which was luckily a 24-hour location. However, when we got inside, the pharmacy was closed! We asked the staff at the front counter what the story was, and they said only the store was 24 hours, but the pharmacy closed at 8 pm. Huh? It seems to us the only reason to keep a pharmacy open 24 hours is for the pharmacy. The rest of the crap they sell there you can get at a convenience store or wait until morning. Whatever. It wasn’t an emergency, and we decided to wait until the next morning.

So back to the hotel we went. Another cold beer from the sketchy liquor store down the street. I think the clerk recognized us.

That wraps up day two. Be looking for the final installment soon.

When I sit down to write a new post, I often have the title in my head before the text. The word pilgrimage came to mind right away. Although I was a little hesitant to use it at first, I think it’s appropriate here. The timing of the trip was chosen to allow us to witness one of the friars from our church make his profession of solemn vows into the Franciscan order, as well as to support our choir, which would be singing at the mass. Los Angeles, a city named after Our Lady of the Angels of the Portiuncula, the place where the Franciscan movement began, seems like a particularly fitting place to celebrate such an event, especially in a church named after St. Francis.

However, in addition to this particular motivation of the trip, we had other plans in mind. Kathryn wanted to see Michael Jackson’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, as a way of paying final respects to the pop legend. We both also wanted to check out some of L.A.’s iconic dining establishments, the places that make us salivate when we see them on the Travel Channel. Finally, Kathryn requested we see the ocean at least once while we were there. Could we drive to California, accomplish all this, and be home in 60 hours?

You betcha.

We got underway around 8 am Friday, and as is often the case with road trips, we were ready for a break within a couple hours. There aren’t many choices in the Arizona desert, so we stopped in Quartzsite to share a breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee at the McDonald’s there. Lo and behold, almost a dozen of our fellow parishioners were also there. We were going to play it off like it was a big coincidence to run into them, but then we just admitted we were also heading to L.A. for same reason they were.

Underway once again, we stopped a couple hours later near Palm Springs for lunch at Carl’s Jr. Here in the Valley for the last several days they’ve been advertising a new sandwich called the Big Carl. Kathryn and I hadn’t been to a Carl’s Jr. in ages, but we’d been drooling every time we see the new commercials. We each got one, and they were indeed big and quite delicious. No one else from the church was at this stop, though. Maybe they pressed on. Maybe they prefer McDonald’s. Maybe they were playing nickel slots at the Agua Caliente casino on the other side of the freeway. We can’t say for sure.

We arrived at our hotel around 3 pm, which conveniently was check-in time. We picked the Comfort Inn City Center because it was inexpensive and centrally located. On the other hand, it was in a seedy neighborhood, a short walk from MacArthur Park, a somewhat notorious landmark. I took some comfort in the fact the parking lot was blanketed with security cameras. The exterior of the hotel looked decent, and our room had been at least superficially remodeled recently. We weren’t planning to spend a lot of time in the room, and with proximity several major freeways, all things considered, it was a decent value.

One thing we noticed right away was, although it was about 20 degrees cooler in L.A. than Phoenix, we were much more uncomfortable there. The humidity was really taking a toll on us. I’ve lived in Phoenix for five years now, and people here keep telling me I’ll get used to the heat. Well, I haven’t, but I’ve definitely gotten used to the dryness. I felt damp the entire time I was in L.A., even at night with the air conditioner cranking away. I’m a very light packer, and I wished I’d brought another shirt or two.

Following a brief rest after arriving, we decided to start crossing items off our list, so we drove over to the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Driving around Los Angeles on the surface streets was relatively easy. We found free parking on a side street near La Brea and walked the entire length of the Walk on Hollywood, skipping the parts on Vine. Kathryn got her photo of the Michael Jackson star, which still had a crowd gathered around it. Although we’d both been to the Walk of Fame before, separately, this was the first time either of us noticed that some celebrities, like Harrison Ford, have more than one star. Maybe there’s more than one Harrison Ford.

Next on our list, since we’d already passed it on La Brea, was Pink’s Famous Hot Dogs. We arrived there around 7 pm, and we were delighted to see the line was half as long as when we’d passed by a couple hours earlier. I was less delighted to find out I had to leave the car keys with the parking attendant, although I surprised Kathryn by not going into my usual cold sweat about it. After almost a half-hour in line, we ordered and were served promptly. Kathryn had the chili cheese dog. I went all out and got the bacon chili cheese dog, which also came with diced tomatoes, and we shared an order of onion rings. It was indeed worth the wait. The dogs were excellent, and the onion rings were very good too. Next time we’re in town, we’ll be back, and we’ll go at the same time. When we pulled out of the parking lot, the line was back to where we had seen it earlier. I guess we found the lull.

Kathryn and I are hardly night owls, so after a long day on the road and with a busy day to follow, we headed back to the hotel to retire for the evening. Before we turned in, we walked down the street to get a cold beer at a nearby liquor store. The clerk worked from behind bulletproof glass. Charming.

That wraps up the first day. I’ve decided to split this update into three posts, one for each day. Be looking for the follow-ups over the next 24 hours or so.

Now, it’s probably been almost five years since the last time I was in a Kentucky Fried Chicken store. Back then, they were calling themselves KFC, perhaps because the word Kentucky made the product sound too regional, or perhaps because the State of Kentucky threatened them with a defamation lawsuit. Whatever the case, with hyperlocalization being fashionable again, I guess they had to follow the pack and bring the original name back.

When I sauntered into my neighborhood Kentucky Fried Chicken at 11:30 this morning, I wasn’t surprised to see several dozen customers in line ahead of me, all with their own coupons. On the other hand, the folks who worked there seemed awfully surprised by the turnout. Although they had plenty of staff on hand, they didn’t have nearly enough food prepared. I guess they assumed the several thousand Honeywell employees across the street had no internet access at their desks and therefore wouldn’t have coupons.

Anyway, I waited about 40 minutes, but eventually made it to the front of the line and received my free two-piece grilled chicken meal. Come to think of it, it wasn’t a significantly longer wait than my previous trip to Kentucky Fried Chicken; there were just a lot more people in front of me this time. I also ordered a small soda, so my total bill with tax was $1.07.

The food, frankly, was not that good. The chicken was a bit rubbery, and the overwhelming flavor was salt. However, the value of my time was really low today, and since the value of a small soda on a hot day was at least $1.02, I’d call the trip a success. Apparently I can use my coupon three more times. I’m not sure I will.

One final thought: Is Kentucky Fried Chicken the only business in the U.S. that has actually become less green over the past five years? They used to sell meals in those paperboard containers that were probably recyclable and biodegradable and most likely made from a significant percentage of post-consumer material. Today, my eat-in order was shrouded in a heavy plastic sarcophagus that was large enough for two meals and weighed almost as much as the food they put in it. I turned the material over, looking for some sign of recyclability; I didn’t see any, but perhaps I missed it. Either way, an old-school paperboard container would have been sufficient.

About This Mac shows 2 GB memory after upgrade of Mac mini

I followed the procedures in the Mac Forums tutorial quite closely. However, I did make a few observations for anyone thinking of trying this at home. Mostly, they involve gathering some additional tools:

• Another computer. I cleared my dining room table to perform the operation, but I left enough room for my notebook computer. This allowed me to get a good view of the pictures in the tutorial, which came in handy several times.
• The right screwdriver. The author of the tutorial refers several times to a medium Phillips screwdriver. I’m not sure what “medium” was compared to. After prying open the case, I realized that I didn’t have a Phillips screwdriver that was anywhere near small enough for the job, so I made an emergency run to Ace Hardware, where I bought a 2.5″ #0 Phillips screwdriver. It worked great for me.
• Needle-nose pliers. I used needle-nose pliers at least a couple times to extract screws that ended up where they shouldn’t have. Without the pliers, I suppose I could have picked up the unit and shaken it until the screws fell out, but I prefer the precision approach whenever possible.
• Magnetized screwdriver. For the same reason I needed the needle-nose pliers, a magnetized screwdriver was helpful for moving screws that ended up somewhere other than where I wanted them.
• Flashlight. Even with an eight-bulb dining room light fixture over my head, getting light exactly where I wanted it was something of a chore. I used a Mini Maglite to focus light where I needed it, but any flashlight would be helpful.
• Phone book. I followed the suggestion of one of the commenters of the tutorial and laid the top half of the Mac mini on a phone book so that I didn’t have to disconnect the ribbon cable between the two halves. I’m sure a book of any similar size would work, but the commenter suggested a phone book, and it turns out a new phone book arrived at my door this morning.
• Canned air duster. Prying open the case left tiny specks of plastic dust in my operating area, and most likely some of that would end up inside the Mac mini without a shot of air. Not only that, but the unit had almost certainly accumulated some cat hair over the past six months, and since it’s unlikely I’ll ever open it again, I wanted to get it out now.
• Kitchen shears. Like most RAM modules, the upgrade for the Mac mini came in plastic packaging that is impossible to open gracefully. The kitchen shears made the work somewhat more bearable.

One other observation: I would recommend heeding the advice of the commenter who suggested leaving the case off until the upgrade has been tested. When I hooked up the monitor and turned the unit on, it was a thrill to see 2 GB in the “About This Mac” box. However, if the upgrade had failed, it would have been traumatic to have to pry the case open a second time.

Typical Sonoran hot dog(photo by Stuart Spivack)

Fast forward roughly six weeks.

The Arizona Republic ran a story about Sonoran hot dogs here in Phoenix, and sure enough the address of the vendor was at 20th St. and Indian School Rd. We live in the northern part of Phoenix, so most nights we’re not in central Phoenix after 6 p.m. However, we were planning to attend the Palm Sunday Mass at our downtown church on Saturday evening, so an opportunity presented itself, and we decided to try the place after Mass.

The name of the vendor is Nogales Hot Dogs. It’s operated from a pushcart with a tent over it, next to which they set up an open-air dining room of folding tables and chairs, all in the parking lot of a guitar store that has gone out of business, at the intersection of two busy streets. The menu is very short. They serve Sonoran hot dogs, sodas imported from Mexico, and bottled water. The bottled water is domestic, I guess. The proprietor greeted us, wiped down a table for us, and took our order: two Sonoran hot dogs with everything, a Coca-Cola, and a water. A few minutes later, dinner was served, and it looked great. Kathryn added some cheese to her hot dog, while I loaded up on green chili salsa, some sort of jalapeno sauce, and a couple different kinds of cheese. They also served some grilled onions and roasted peppers on the side. Then we dug in. The hot dogs were absolutely wonderful. But then, if you read the description above, how could they not be? The imported Coca-Cola in old-school glass bottles was a nice touch, too.

To sum up the experience, we’ll definitely be back. Heck, we may never go to Mass on Sunday morning again! And, in case you’re wondering, total cost of dinner, including a very generous tip, was $10.

Best Western Seaport Inn

Ground Zero

Ground Zero Museum

Brooklyn Bridge at night

St. Patrick's Cathedral

Now, after a few days at home in Phoenix, I’m back on the road for a trip to a conference in Portland, Oregon. I’m flying Alaska Airlines for the first time. I chose Alaska for two reasons: price and schedule. It was nonstop, had a slightly better departure time than USAirways, and cost about the same. Alaska has a reputation for impeccable service, but so far I haven’t figured out why. I booked online, just like any other airline. I checked in online, just like any other airline. I dropped off my bag with an inattentive clerk standing behind an automated kiosk, just like any other airline. The aircraft is a very old 737. The beverage service doesn’t have Coke or Pepsi products, and the snack I forewent would have cost $5. I’m really not impressed.

For those of you who are familiar with the company I work for, I’ll post updates from the conference on its blog, rather than on this one. Nevertheless, I might have a musing or two here as well.

Flying at night
(photo from AOPA)

Landing at night wasn’t as easy as I remembered. All of my landings were flat, and one was a little hard. The problems we had activating the runway lights at Casa Grande didn’t help. The first attempt at a landing resulted in a go-around when we thought the two red obstruction lights on the ground were the glide slope indicator telling us we were too low, although we made another landing without any runway lights at all. Oh, and let’s not forget the panel lights kept cutting out on us. Fortunately, the nearly full moon was on our side, and we did manage to complete two landings at Casa Grande before returning to Chandler, which was much better lit.

Having completed the flight, I’m night current until July 16, although last night made it clear I need more solo practice before I try night landings with passengers. As spring gives way to summer, maintaining night currency will require flying at times of the evening when I’d rather be in bed. We’ll see how long this lasts.

As usual, my lack of posting is an indicator of my busy personal life, and this time is no exception. I certainly have a lot to talk about, but for the sake of finishing a post in the next twelve hours, I’ll get straight to the point:

I’m getting married again!

Kathryn and I started discussing marriage more than half a year ago. However, to understand where I’m going for the next couple paragraphs, I need to give you more background than that. During the same time, we’d also been discussing our faith, both of us being Catholic, and our desire to attend mass together on a regular basis. This led us on a journey to find a parish that made us feel at home spiritually. The journey started just after Thanksgiving, and it had some low points that really could be the topic of another post much longer than this one. However, long story short, after attending mass at several different parishes in the Valley, we finally discovered our new home on New Year’s Day, when we attended mass for the Solemnity of Mary.

Holy place for a wedding

Prior to that point, we’d already talked about how wonderful it would be to marry in the Church, but we had one not-so-small problem standing in our way: my previous marriage. The Church doesn’t recognize civil divorces, so in order to marry in the Church, it would first have to grant an annulment of my first marriage. This was a complication Kathryn and I had already discussed, and we had certainly considered that it might be a lot easier just to have a civil wedding, even though it might put us outside of communion with the Church. In any event, we attended the seminar to get as much information as we could. We heard from the pastor, the business manager, and the wedding coordinator of our parish, who discussed every aspect of a Church wedding, including the diocesan requirements for marriage preparation counseling, the parish’s specific requirements, and the liturgical and ritual elements of the wedding day itself. In short, we really, really liked what we heard. By the time we left the seminar, the idea of a civil wedding had come completely off the table. We were prepared to make whatever effort was necessary for a Catholic wedding.

St. Mary's Basilica, Phoenix

We’d been waiting until the annulment was granted before we spread the good news about our plans to anyone outside our immediate families. Now that we’ve gotten over the big hurdle, there are still a lot of little ones that remain, but we can jump them together. Sufficient marriage preparation is required for a wedding in the Church, with six months considered a minimum. Because we found out about my annulment just as Holy Week was beginning, we haven’t had a chance to meet with the pastor recently. However, we’ve continued preparing on our own by attending a retreat for marrying couples this past weekend, fulfilling one of the diocesan requirements. Actually, because of our age and the fact I’ve been married before, the pastor recommended we attend a particular retreat especially for remarrying couples. The retreat was an all-day seminar, broken into four parts: theology of marriage, personality, sexuality and family blending, and finance. Overall, Kathryn and I both thought the seminar was worthwhile. If nothing else, it caused the two of us to open a dialogue on some topics we hadn’t previously discussed. At the end, there was an exercise where couples practiced praying together. It may sound a bit corny, but in truth, it was a beautiful moment and a great end to the day.

I didn’t do any preparation or counseling for my first marriage, so I’ve been trying to keep an open mind about the various requirements of the Church. So far, that’s worked pretty well for me. In reality, six months isn’t all that long to prepare for a bond that endures a lifetime. Our preparation should be complete by mid-summer, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to get married in Phoenix in the August heat. However, if we take a few extra weeks to focus of the details of the big day itself, we’ll be ready just in time for an early fall wedding.

I’m in Denver on a business trip, and I had to brush a couple inches of snow off the car before I left the hotel for the workshop I’m attending. Fortunately, the rental car company included a brush and a scraper in the car. I didn’t need the scraper, which was also fortunate.

After the first day of a three-day workshop, I’m quite satisfied it was worth the trip. I’m already looking forward to the advanced workshop next year.

What was the highlight of the trip?

It’s been really tough to single out a highlight, since we had such a great time the whole trip. For me, picking up the new car in Germany was a moment I won’t soon forget, and flying a glider in Austria was a truly unexpected surprise, but the trip was really a series of highlights punctuated by sleep.

How were the flights?

The first leg of our flight ended up being Phoenix to Phoenix. It wasn’t the start we expected. However, when all was said and done, we arrived in Munich only six hours later than we had anticipated, so it wasn’t a total disaster. Furthermore, we were each quite surprised to find $400 vouchers in the mail, along with an apology letter from Continental. The vouchers are good on Continental for up to a year, so we’ll give them another chance and fly somewhere in the near future.

The return flight was stressful, because every segment was late, meaning that every connection was too short. We literally ran for our gates in both Paris and Houston. Air France isn’t alone to blame, though. Customs and Border Protection and the Transportation Security Administration get a fair amount of credit for the nearly missed flights, as well as the security services at Charles de Gaulle.

Did you stay in hotels or bed-and-breakfasts?

We stayed in a combination of hotels, guest houses, and friend’s homes. We spent three nights with my friend Sigrid in Munich and one with my friend Katharina in Eisenstadt. I would consider our night in Baden-Baden to be in a guest house, although the place called itself a hotel. I guess it depends on where you draw the line. Our night near Neuschwanstein was definitely in a guest house. The rest of the nights were in hotels.

Great big beer at Oktoberfest

The beers are really that big. The standard beer size at Oktoberfest is called a maß, which is one liter or approximately 34 ounces of beer. For the record, I had only one, and Kathryn and Sigrid stuck with apfelschorle, which is apple juice mixed with sparkling water.

BMW in France

The new car is amazing. I love the color. I love the leather. I love the way the instrument panel is laid out. I love the way the steering wheel fits in my hands. I love the way the mirrors fold in at the push of a button, and then unfold automatically when you start driving again. I love all the little features I didn’t even know it had, like the lighted door handles and the climate control memory. The only thing I don’t love is having to wait another six to eight weeks to drive it again.

How fast did you drive?

Most of the time, I drove around 80 to 85 miles per hour on the highways. However, there were a couple of occasions in Germany where I got up to 110 to 115 miles per hour in sections with no speed limit. Other than my death grip on the steering wheel, I was pleased that it handled pretty much the same at the higher speeds as it did at the lower ones.

Kathryn at the wheel, totally in control

I put most of the miles on the car, but I did let Kathryn drive a couple times. She got it up to 90 to 95 miles per hour at one point in Germany, but she seemed to be in control, so I didn’t mind.

Entrance to Taillevent, Paris

Our lunch at Taillevent was simply amazing. I’m embarrassed that I lack the vocabulary to describe the food properly, so I won’t even try. We each ordered a kir royal as an aperitif and then, after receiving a dizzying array of menus, ordered the fixed-price lunch, which had been our plan all along. Naturally, we ordered a bottle of wine, letting the sommelier choose the appropriate bottle for us. An amuse-bouche arrived, which was gazpacho, just to get our taste buds excited. My appetizer was jumbo shrimp, and Kathryn’s was risotto. I continued my seafood theme and had a main course of salmon. There was brie after the main course to clear the palate, followed by dessert — a rich chocolate cake for me — which was accompanied by a plate of assorted chocolates. I had coffee after dessert, and by the time we left, we had been there about two-and-a-half hours. The most pleasant surprise came as we were heading for the front door, when our waiter stopped us and asked us to please wait a moment. A moment later, the owner came out to thank us personally for coming, ask for our repeat business, and wish us a pleasant stay in France. I thought it was an impeccable touch. Someone running a restaurant with two Michelin stars is willing to make guests ordering fixed-price menus and wine-of-the-day feel as important as guests ordering tasting menus and vintage bottles from the cellar.

Did you gamble in Monte Carlo?

No. However, we did take a peek inside the famous casino, allowing us to feel very James Bond for a moment.

Did you take a gondola ride in Venice?

No. A few rides on the vaporetti convinced us that spending $100-plus on a gondola ride might be the most expensive vomit we ever bought. As it turned out, walking around Venice was quite civilized and gave us a chance to see the city without the unwashed hoards.

A little green after first glider flight

When my friend Katharina and her boyfriend David came to visit me in Phoenix two years ago, I took them on an early-morning flight from Deer Valley to Payson for breakfast. At that time, I learned David is also a pilot, but he flies gliders, not airplanes.

Fast-forward two years. When I arrived in Eisenstadt, Katharina let me know that David had a surprise for me the following morning. He arranged for someone in his flying club to take me up in one of their gliders. So while Katharina and Kathryn spent the morning and much of the afternoon seeing the sights in Vienna, I was at the airport in Wiener Neustadt waiting for the weather to improve. However, it eventually did improve to the point where I was able to get a roughly twenty-minute flight. I took the controls for about five minutes, and although I think I did a pretty good job maintaining airspeed, it was a lot different from flying an airplane, especially for maintaining coordination in turns. Glider pilots seem always to be circling for the best air currents. After circling for a while, I was starting to get nauseous, so we headed back to the field a few minutes ahead of schedule. However, it was a positive first glider experience overall, and now that I know what to expect, I may be willing to try it again.

Did you bring home any souvenirs?

I’m not one to buy much of anything when I travel, so my souvenirs from my trips abroad tend to be somewhat accidental. My favorite souvenir of the trip is the German license plate from the front of my new car. Some have suggested that I remount it when I get the car back, despite the dubious legality of displaying it in the U.S. One colleague suggested I leave it on until some cop decides to give me a ticket for it — a suggestion I’m definitely taking under advisement. I also ended up with all the safety equipment required in Europe but not here, such us the reflective triangle, the safety vest, and the first aid kit. Since the items aren’t required in the U.S., they don’t ship with the car, but I can put them all back in the car when it arrives in Phoenix.

Do you feel like the trip brought the two of you closer together?

Definitely.