August 2005 Archives

1. I can only shake my head in horror and disbelief over the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Poor New Orleans! Poor Rob! It's nice to know, at least, that America's worst natural disaster is enough to pry Bush out of his 5-week vacation and return him to Washington where, of course, he is now further away from the situation. (Today's Washington Post reported that Bush's job approval rating has sunk to 45% in the lastest WP-ABC poll. Only 37% of the respondents approve of the job the Republican-controlled Congress is performing.)

2. And speaking of the situation in Iraq... I saw a bicylist resting by the side of Rt. 29 this morning with a large poster propped against his bike that read: War Is Not The Answer. How quixotic. Rt. 29 is the biggest north-south route through Howard County. During rush hour the average speed on Rt. 29 is only about 85 miles per hour. Most people are going so fast there's no way they could read the sign.

3. I come into my building at work each morning through a little used basement door. When I grabbed the handle today I saw through the corner of my eye what I thought was a blob of dirt sitting on the door handle. Turns out it was an eastern gray treefrog sitting there. I checked on it at lunch. Still there. I wonder where he came from?

4. Science education takes a hit. A recent poll conducted by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life and the Pew Research Center for the People and the Press found that 64 percent said they were open to the idea of teaching creationism in addition to evolution, while 38 percent favored replacing evolution with creationism. The poll found that 42 percent of respondents held strict creationist views, agreeing that "living things have existed in their present form since the beginning of time." Bah.

5. I found a 1928 "U.S. Note" $5 bill in my change yesterday. Think it's worth anything?
K-

I just got a Google mail account. Yeah, finally. (kemwhite at gmail dot com) When I got it, I was invited to try Google Talk. It promised free voice communications over the Internet. So I thought why not? and downloaded and installed the application. It looks a lot like IM.

Then it occurred to me I had absolutely no one to Google talk with. I barely have anyone to IM with. Since A- is away at school, I thought I might like to talk to him. So without thinking I sent an invitation to a-white@gmail.com to download and try Google talk. The without thinking part is key... that isn't A-'s email.

This morning I get a reply:
"Thx. But I use Skype myself..."

Thinking it was from my son and being the wacky guy I am, I naturally replied:
> Thx. But I use Skype myself...
Google is very disappointed in you, A-. You will be part of the body. Expect a visit from a team of Googlers soon.

It finally dawned on me that I may not have the correct A- when I received:
You sure u got the right A- White?

But I still need the Googlers since he said:

Anyway I hope the googler will google me till I scream...

K-

Loved today's Doonesbury where Garry Trudeau slyly hints that 99.999 percent of all personal blogs are unmitigated, puerile, pretentious, self-centered crap.

Not mine of course.
K-

This was number 14. Fourteen first days of school. You get them up, give them something to eat, make sure they're ready to take on the world. Even if they do have a broken foot.

D-'s a junior in high school. He'll have a challenging year. A lot of tough courses. He's up to the challenge.

If you think the calendar says summer ends on September 21, you're wrong. You're looking at the wrong calendar. The school calendar is what counts even if you don't have children. Summer ends when school starts. The last day of summer was yesterday.

This was my penultimate first day of school. The next to last one. One more next year and that'll be it.

It was a good one.
K-

My father retired in 1985 to a life of watching TV. He became strictly hands-off in old age. Much like Chauncey Gardiner, his day-to-day world consisted of a remote control, an uncomfortable blue sofa, and the relentless perkiness of cable television. He wasn't always like this but physical, mental, and perhaps emotional disabilities withered his will for movement, took away his industry, sucked dry his curiosity of things beyond his house. So if you wanted to socialize with him, it was on these terms.

And I accepted it. Whenever I was in Michigan, I would sit in the chair next to his as we watched Walker Texas Ranger, Wheel of Fortune, Regis and Kathy Lee, and any other easy-to-digest offering the ether brought to us. Our conversations were of necessity desultory. Never one for deep discussions or lengthy reminiscences, he rarely talked about important issues or things that had happened to him. During his later years, our father-son conversations were usually just simple reflections on the exploits of some TV character.

One day while we sat there, something about the Rolling Stones blared out from his Zenith. I don't even recall what it was but it caused him to say something totally unexpected.

"Did I ever tell you I once met the Rolling Stones?"

Needless to say, hearing this from a man who thought music began and ended with Sousa marches took me quite by surprise. "I'm sorry, Dad, but I think something's wrong with my hearing. I thought I just heard you say you once met the Rolling Stones."

"Well, I did meet the Rolling Stones. When I was in Luxembourg."

"Yeah, right, you met the Rolling Stones when you were in Luxembourg," I thought. I tried not to let the skepticism creep into my voice, "I find that a little hard to believe."

He sighed the sigh of an exasperated parent. "In 1963 and '64 when I spent those 8 months in Luxembourg putting in that wire mill, I stayed in a small hotel with a pub. For a few nights, these young guys would come in to get something to eat and drink. Since we were about the only people there who spoke English, we naturally came together. They were so young. I felt sorry for them. I talked to them... they talked to me... we had a good time. They said they were a band from England called the "Rolling Stones". Because they were young and just starting out, no one would give them recording time in any British studio. So they were in Luxembourg trying to record their music where they could get studio time. They were all very nice. They even gave me an album that they autographed."

"Do you still have the album?"

"No... I had never heard of them so when I got back I gave it to the neighbor girl down the street."

I didn't know what to think. I still don't. Had my father actually met the Rolling Stones? He seemed positive although the whole story sounded so incredible. Maybe he was pulling my leg or had them confused with another band. I mean, come on, Dad, the Rolling Stones!!! Couldn't you come up with a story a little less far-fetched? But on cold, rainy nights I like to think of my father - young, still industrious, unafraid of the world - sitting in a Luxembourg pub sharing a pint and a laugh with Mick and Keith and the rest of the Rolling Stones just like he said.

Long before the rest of the world knew what a Rolling Stone was.
K-

Do you use Outlook? You can invite people to meetings with it. People can invite you, too. Meeting invites have a Required: line.

I hate being on the Required: line.
K-

I installed Movable Type V3.2 today... keep your fingers crossed.
K-

A long-standing tradition for D-'s high school marching unit is Pass in Review. After two weeks of routines, rehearsal, and memorization at band camp, the kids are ready to show off all they've learned to the thrill and gratification of pride-swollen parents. You can't tell from this picture but tears are streaming down my cheeks.
K-

Saw this and had to post it:

Q: How many Bush Administration officials does it take to screw in a light bulb?

A: None. There is nothing wrong with the light bulb; it’s conditions are improving every day. Any reports of its lack of incandescence are delusional spin from the liberal media. That light bulb has served honorably, and anything you say undermines the lighting effect. Why do you hate freedom?
K-

It's been a hectic week at work and at play. Despite the hecticity, life has been incredibly dull, blah, and uninteresting. A few minor notes for humpday:

1. I've another nail in the He's-Older-Than-Dirt coffin: S- bought me Dockers pants with elastic in waistband. What's next? A white belt?

2. A lithium battery blew up in a lab owned and operated by my work group today. It happened at lunch. Minimal damage and no real fire but the ensuing stink and smoke caused the fire alarm to sound sending everyone on the first floor of my building - including the entire lunchtime cafeteria - outside.

3. I saw two Howard County cops being escorted through my building at work this morning (before the battery explosion). I've never seen real cops at work... only the ersatz ones the lab hires. Don't know where they were going but they didn't stop at any of the group supervisor's doors. Pity.

4. Camry98 is in the shop getting the once over before A- heads back to school with it. He wants to continue his job but giving him a car is against my better judgment.

5. Those damn temporary signs (driveway sealant, landscaping, Sunday mass at Our Lady of Perpetual Work) are rife. Where's the accountability with those things?

6. Yesterday I got a bill from my mother's hospital for $129... 6 months after she died.

7. The routine starts Monday. Long live the routine.

8. Is it just me or all female country singers - at least the ones who make videos - really hot?

9. I hope the fun picks up.

10. All in all you're just another brick in the wall.
K-

I'm an assistant scoutmaster in my son's Boy Scout troop. Just like vice-presidents, assistant scoutmasters don't have a lot of assigned duties. Second only to loafing, filling in for the scoutmaster when he isn't there is my biggest job. Such was the case last night.

Three scouts needed "Scoutmaster Conferences", the final requirement before moving on to the next rank. As the name implies, these are almost always performed by the scoutmaster. But I had been duly sworn as substitute scoutmaster last night, so the job fell to me.

The biggest part of the conference is to review requirements with the scout to make sure they have all been completed properly. Some pop quiz questions are OK too. I asked one scout going for his "Life" badge - the rank just before Eagle - what the 4 first aid hurry cases were.

"The hurry cases?"
"You remember those from second-class first aid right? You know the times when you have to give immediate first aid or the victim might die?"
"Oh yeah... Right. Uh.... stopped breathing?"
"Correct! And the next?"
"Severe bleeding?"
"Right again! It's usually arterial bleeding."
"Poisoning?"
"Absolutely! But internal poisoning as opposed to skin poisoning. And the fourth hurry case?"
"Uh...."
"It's a very severe situation."
"I'm not sure..."
"This can kill a guy if nothing's done."
"Uh...."
"Victims are almost always scoutmasters and not scouts."
"Old age?"

Ooookaaaaay. Next scout please.
K-

Marie quipped that she tried for Karen Valentine during my recent "Room 222" exploit but could only manage the sleepy, grumpy old guy I found there. Too bad she couldn't quite pull it off. Something about availability she said.

Of course, I got Marie's classical allusion immediately. Room 222... Karen Valentine. Piece of cake. After all, I'm a '70s denizen. So did Rob who opined that it was Denise Nicholas of Walt Whitman's guidance office who held the edge in feminine pulchritude. I have only one thing to say to Rob...

*Pffffft*

Liz McIntyre over Alice Johnson?!?

Denise Nicholas over Karen Valentine!?!

Look at that hair, the dimples, the overbite. Karen is like a latter-day Gene Tierney.

A goddess in brown curls and B-cups. Where is she today?
K-

I'm on travel but can blog because my room comes with wireless WAN. I still think that's so cool.

I got to my hotel tonight after my meeting to something quite unexpected. My reservation was OK. Check-in was flawless.

"Room 222, Mr. White."

I get to my room, insert my Ving, and discover a guy - in bed asleep - already in my room. He jumped up quite agitated as you might expect.

Turns out our keys were reversed. He was given my key and I his. I made the front desk swear on a stack of Gideons that no one will be coming into my room tonight.
K-

I'm back from my Rehoboth Beach vacation.

Ocean-going dolphins are a common sight in Rehoboth Beach, occasionally coming quite close to shore to the thrill and amusement of the beach crowd. So this year, the Rehoboth powers-that-be decided to have local organizations sponsor dolphin sculptures. Each sponsoring organization provided a blank dolphin sculpture to the local artist of their choice and then the artist jazzed it up according to his or her fancy. The finished dolphins were scattered around town for tourists to find. Supposedly there were 30 dolphin sculptures made; I found 25.

I've been to Rehoboth so many times that it's no longer easy to take new and interesting photos. I've pretty much been everywhere and photographed everything. Since the dolphins were essentially the only thing in town I hadn't seen before, I photographed those.

Click on the link to expand the entry and see all the dolphins (save one) I photographed.

This is going to be a busy week. I'm on travel beginning tomorrow. Blogging will be light.

Enjoy the dolphins until I get back.
K-

Well I'm off for a week of rest and relaxation in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. I won't have computer access for blogging so I've left you with something little to remember me by as I stroll along the Boardwalk in front of the real Dolle's Salt Water Taffy store. I plan to read, loaf, relax, loaf, read, loaf, loaf, and relax (not necessarily in that order). Please, please, please, I beg you... don't leave too many comments.

Everyone have a great week.
K-

D-, we now know why you have that pain in your right foot from when you fell off that mountain board at the Jamboree. It's broken!
K-

I'm vey busy at work, it's too hot, I've got home renovations to complete, the War Party is still in power, it is way too hot, Congress is in recess, Dubya is in Texas waiting for his aides to think up more ways for him to be anti-science, it's too damn hot, the Orioles are in a shambles, the Baltimore Symphony is no longer sniping, S- called me a curmudgeon this morning, and it is so goddamn hot!

*sigh* Maybe I need a week "downy O-shin" as they say in Baltimore. Just to cool off. Maybe that's the ticket. I'll think about that at work today. Yeah... maybe a vacation is the perfect thing to adjust my attitude... hangin' with the family, Scrabble tournaments, no responsibilities, babe-watchin', reading surfside, trips to Royal Treat for chocolate malts and hot fudge sundaes, a frosty mug or two.

This idea has definite possibilities.
K-

Overheard this morning:

"D-, I want you to go outside and bring in your duffle bag from the Jamboree. I need to wash all your dirty clothes."

"Okay. But I want to warn you... it smells really, really, really, really really, really bad."

Glad I'm not the charwoman.
K-

1. My mother's house sold yesterday without a hitch. With that I have no compelling reason to ever return to Michigan. That's kind of sad.

2. Last night I replaced the "receiver processor board" in my garage door opener. For the last 8 months or so, the range of the handheld remotes has been greatly reduced. Sometimes they wouldn't even open the door when standing right outside it. Turns out the government has usurped a garage door opener frequency rendering most garage door openers useless. I had to pay $175 to get a new board, 2 handheld remotes, and keyless entry box that operated at a different frequency. Since I basically bought my house because it came with an automatic garage door opener, it was well worth the money (and abundant sweat it took to put in).

3. My bluebirds, Millie and Jerry, have been bringing their brood to my bluebird feeder. Most mornings there are 6 of them sitting on or near the feeder waiting for their daily ration of meal worms.

4. I just got Adobe Photoshop Elements. Way cool.

5. D- returns from the Jamboree today. It'll be so good to have him back home. He returns just in time for a week of sweltering temperatures (if you believe the National Weather Service). He gets two days of rest then it's off to Rehoboth Beach for our annual beach getaway.

6. For your enjoyment, a snap of the 9 stitches he received in his foot while visiting the Jamboree.

K-

Over the weekend, I did my assistant scoutmaster thing with my son's troop and went down to the National Boy Scout Jamboree in Bowling Green, Virginia. I had a great time palling around with my son, D-, as we checked out a number of the exhibits. What you notice most about the Jamboree is its size; it is huge. He said there is no way one person can see and do everything at the Jamboree. Then there is the layout. Even though there are busses, the boys do an immense amout of walking.

Yes, indeed, he had a nice cut on his heel and 9 stitches holding it shut. But the cut looked clean and he told me that they'll remove the stitches before he leaves. I've got pictures to share - including a nice close-up of the gash - but I haven't had time to get them posted yet.

Leaving his campsite I noticed a strong, not-particularly-pleasant, funky smell. "What's that smell?" I asked.

D- replied, "I don't know. It's just a smell. There are a lot of smells here."

Memories to treasure.
K-