I haven't posted in a while. I have been very busy but nothing really momentous has happened.

1. I play the guitar now.
2. After a two year hiatus, Fred and Ethel, my bluebirds, are checking out the nest boxes in my yard. Keep your fingers crossed.
3. My older son, Andrew, graduates from University of Maryland at the end of May. He moves to Virginia later in the summer where he has a job.
4. My younger son, Danny, comes home from York College on May 15 after a great freshman year.

And a sad note. William W. Warner, author of Beautiful Swimmers, an exquisite book about the blue crab and the Chesapeake Bay, has died at the age of 88.

All of Maryland mourns.
K-

There's an old story about how you can boil a frog. You don't put him hot water right off the bat because he'll just hop out. Instead you put him in cold water, then heat the water with him in it. The change in temperature happens so slowly that he doesn't realize he's being cooked.

So it is with Google and me.

Google first grabbed me with its search engine with its nice clean look. Then Google added image search, then Google Earth, then Google Desktop, then Google Maps, then Google Toolbar, then Google Mail, then Google Talk, then Google Reader, then iGoogle, then Google Notebook, then Google Picasa. I checked out each one and found I could use them all.

On Tuesday I found this:

Google Calendar with Outlook synch.

My calendar available from anywhere automatically synched with my Outlook server every 2 hours.

I am the frog and Sergei Brin keeps turning up the heat.
K-

Yesterday I had some time to kill. I ended up looking at the MySpace and Facebook websites. I created an account on Facebook and managed to get my two sons to join as a couple of friends.

Now what?

I'm sorry, I'm just not getting Facebook. Other than posting pictures, I don't see the point. What happens next? Am I supposed to do something or just wait? I'm not seeing what all the excitement is about. At all.

Maybe it would help if I actually had friends.
K-

Driving down US-29 this morning on the way to work, I spotted a disabled car along the side of the road. Further on down US-29 I saw a guy carrying a gas can in the direction of the parked car. In an instant, that bear trap I call a brain thought "I'll bet that guy ran out of gas."

That got me to thinking. I thought of all those times I had run out of gas. All those times I've been forced to walk from my inoperative car, gas can in hand, to go get more fuel. All those times I've run out of gas.

Except there are no times I've run out of gas.

Never. Not once, ever, in 37 years of driving, have I run out of gas. How can you run out of gas? The gauge in the car tells you how much remains. All you have to do is look at it. But it's broken you say. Well then, you get it fixed and keep track of your miles using a pad and pencil until you do. Only a totally unobservant ignormus could run out of gas. To run out of gas, your obliviousness has to be so enormous that doing so is almost wanton evil.

Not that I'll get any takers after that tirade, but how about you? Have you ever run out of gas?

We'd all love to hear about it.
K-

Super Tuesday didn't settle much as far as the Democratic presidential contenders are concerned, so Maryland is actually getting more than the minimal attention we typically garner from our presidential candidates. The Baltimore Sun tells us - with less than a week before the Maryland primary election - the Clinton and Obama camps are "scrambling" to plan in Maryland. Offices are being opened, advertisements readied, and rallies scheduled. I heard on the radio this morning that Obama may actually visit Prince George's County in our humble state (though at this point it's still only a rumor). I even saw a presidential campaign ad last night on TV. Be still my fluttering heart!

From my jaundiced and apathetic viewpoint, Obama seems to have the most traction in the state. My representative - Elijah Cummings - and a whole raft of local Howard County officials are endorsing him. But Clinton has some high-power endorsements herself: Governor O'Malley and Senator Mikulski are both strong Clinton supporters. I've yet to settle on a candidate. I have till next Tuesday to do so. (Maryland has a closed primary system. To vote in the primaries, you have to declare an official party affiliation. I get to vote only for Democrats.)

I think this is the first time since I've lived in Maryland that my vote in the presidential primary might actually mean something. In all the other primaries, the nominee had been decided long before I got to vote. Now I have to really think seriously about my choice. I'm not free to cast my usual "What will piss off conservatives the most?" vote.

So much for my Al Gore write-in campaign.
K-

I was cable surfing last night. That's about all I ever do anymore when I watch TV. Only occasionally do I stop to watch a show for any length of time. Last night something on PBS grabbed my attention that kept me transfixed for an hour. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

It turns out there are some folks down in Oklahoma that have unique pastime. I never would have guessed people could - or would - do this.

Hand fishing. They call it "noodling" in the business.

The idea is simple: you hop into a river, then, using nothing but your bare hands, feel around inside hidden crevices and hollow logs looking for catfish. If you're lucky, a 60 lb. male flathead catfish guarding its nest will bite your outstretched fingers, whereupon you simply grab its lower jaw and haul it ashore.

Of course, snakes, snapping turtles, muskrats, and beavers could also be inside those underwater hang-outs.

Ouch.

I can't imagine what would possess someone to hand fish for catfish. I'm terrified to go near the drain at the bottom of a pool let alone blindly stick my arm up some underwater log hoping to get bit by whatever happens to be living there. It did strike me that the noodlers interviewed for the movie weren't exactly the brightest guys in the world. Most were self-described as fellows "who just like to use their hands." They were all earthy, unassuming, country lads, so to speak. As the Oklahoma DNR cop said on last night's show: "Not many people are willing to dive underwater and reach inside somewheres hoping to get bit!"

Risk aside, I can't believe any form of predation where you pull a nesting animal away from its brood is sustainable. It seems kind of irresponsible and mean to me even if it is just a catfish. Though maybe flathead catfish are super-abundant in Oklahoma.

Hand fishing is only legal in Oklahoma, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Tennessee.
K-

Has this ever happened to you?

No, of course it hasn't. This only happens to boneheads, of which I am one.

Let me explain.

I was sitting in a meeting last week. Not one of those soccer-scouts-church-neighborhood-band-PTA-unimportant evening meetings, but a real meeting, a professional meeting, a meeting full of hard-nosed engineers, a meeting during the day, a meeting where I had to be on the ball, pay attention, demonstrate acumen, show insight, and articulate vision. This was an adult meeting, a significant meeting, a meeting of utmost moment.

It was a meeting I was getting paid to be at.

We were gathered in a beautiful conference room on the 12th floor of a Washington office building. We sat at a large table, our laptops arrayed around us. I was positioned strategically at the table's head. It was mid-morning. A colleague stood to my right briefing upcoming plans. He was intent, serious. His message was important. My trusty green 1-quart Stanley thermos sat nearby on the table. As the planning session droned on, I picked up my thermos, curious whether I had any coffee left. I was fairly certain I had finished my daily allotment, but I wanted to make sure. I knew I had just drained the last of my home brew from the thermos top that served as my cup. But if there was more coffee in the thermos, I would take it. My thermos seemed empty. I shook it vigorously to confirm. Nope. No coffee. I gave a small, inaudible sigh. A bit more coffee sure would have made the morning go faster.

As I held the thermos upright in my lap, I looked ruefully at the thermos top sitting on the table, picked it up with absolute, unequivocal, 100 percent moral certainty it was empty, inverted it, and went to screw it in place.

Sploosh!

An inch of coffee dumped in my lap. Not only that... it was hot. I jumped up, interrupting the proceedings. Of course this was the day I chose to wear khakis rather than dark suit pants so it was immediately obvious to everyone in the room that something unpleasant involving a liquid had just happened to me. Paper napkins flew in my general direction to assist, but the cotton cloth of my pants had already soaked up everything.

If I had peed my pants I could not have made a stain that looked more like I peed my pants than this stain did. I made my way to the men's room out in the corridor praying with all the fervor I could muster that no one was present in the usually busy hallway. But, no, as always, it was filled with professionals. There might as well have been a big, glowing, neon arrow pointing directly at my crotch.

See? What did I tell you?

Bonehead.
K-

I am sitting in my living room - new laptop squarely positioned in its namesake location - blogging over my recently-installed wireless network. I haven't been this happy since...

Well, this could be the happiest I've ever been.
K-