We went to the zoo last weekend, on a whim. This is me and a pygmy marmoset (a small monkey). For some reason he was fascinated by me; he was checking me out up close.
January 1, 1999 Friday
It's a new year and I've made my usual resolution. Don't make
resolutions.
After ringing in the new year with friends, by 12:05 we all had our coats on and were out the door. Life in Old Fartdom.
Today I have reserved for vegetating. If I choose to do naught, that is what I'll do. I may watch a movie, I got a computer game for Christmas - "Railroad Tycoon." I'll probably install that. It's a game like SimCity, but you build and operate a railroad instead of a city. It has great graphics; it occupies 130 Mb of disk space.
This is exciting stuff, huh? How does one describe doing nothing in an entertaining fashion?
I have considered revamping the website's appearance for the new year. Not altering content, just appearance. And I may make those hidden links easier to find, 'cuz nobody seems to be finding them.
You may have noticed in the OpieLog that we've been hauling mice outa here almost on a daily basis. Yet Opie hasn't been bringing in any new ones. We surmised that this was a family of mice that had bred in our walls. Still, why was Opie not bringing in new catches? Suppose he's bringing the same mice back in that we're releasing. There is evidence that he repeatedly catches the same critters. Too weird for serious contemplation.
Anyway, we caught another one today, but he doesn't appear to be related to the Mouse-A-Day family. He had a larger body and darker fur. So we're saying the mouse glut seems to have ended. We have begun a new year with the OPIE Project.
Last time: Happy New Year.
January 8, 1999 Friday
We had 3-5 inches of snow today. And the temperature is going
up to 55 tomorrow. This is too weird.
People around here don't know how to drive in snow. Snow driving should be part of the driver's test. A special snow license should be issued. You don't have one, you stay home.
I am feeling back to normal today. Tuesday I had the puke, sleep, puke, sleep, puke, sleep flu. I barfed for six hours, then slept for seventeen hours. I went 48 hours without food. I was weak all the next day, but recovered sufficiently for the Wife's party Wednesday night. I limited myself to a few chips 'n dip and one drink.
Opie was the life of the party when he joined the group and placed one of his pets at their feet. A brown over white mouse. I didn't think they occured two-tone in the wild, but this one was. We were able to herd him quickly into the trap for a safe return to the compost heap.
I gotta go shovel snow.
January 15, 1999 Friday
Tonight is just weird. It's a Friday evening and I've got a weekend
of nice weather to look forward to.
The weird part is that all week we've had cold temperatures, snow and ice. The weather has been miserable and work has been tedious at best. And now it's over. And the Wife had a business dinner to attend, so I'm home alone with Opie. It's like I struggled through a room full of annoying trolls to reach the exit, and now I'm here and there's nothing. It's weird.
I explained all this to Opie, but he was not amused. He lies here next to me, thinking this is utopia.
God, it's quiet.
I actually felt like chatting on the 'net tonight (hasn't happened very often lately), but none of the usual crowd was on. And my inbox was devoid of cheer.
Friday night tv sucks.
Okay, this weekend I'm going to install the cd player in my truck; it's a nice weekend for it. That's productive.
That being decided, I'm gonna play some music. Loud.
January 21, 1999 Thursday
We caught three more mice Sunday, Monday and today. They were
the two-tone variety that I'd never seen before. That makes five
in two weeks. Strange. Either there's another family of 'em behind
the stove, or Opie's been bringing the same mouse back in.
And Monday night Opie brought home a frog. Not quite a bullfrog, but close. It sat on the landing of the stairs, blending nicely with the new green carpet. I picked him up and carried him back to the creek bed.
Opie hasn't brought home a frog in over a year. And bringing home mice without calling them to our attention is kinda new too. The OPIE Project is undergoing some minor but notable changes that I should probably be heeding.
For some reason yesterday morning, I decided to follow the creek that runs behind the house back into the woods (instead of my usual one-mile trek around the paved streets). I hadn't been back there in a while, and I felt like communing with nature. I found our Christmas tree from two years ago, a very brown and dead Douglas fir that I had dumped back there. But right beside it grew a scrawny four-foot Douglas fir sapling. There are no Douglas firs in the woods, so that sprout had to have come from the dead Christmas tree. I was impressed. Life had sprung forth from a discarded decoration in a triumph over the harshness of unfeeling commercial reality. Orsomething.
I dunno; it seemed worth noting.
January 29, 1999 Friday
Two weeks ago I began installing my Christmas present (10-disc
CD changer) in my truck. I still haven't finished. And this weekend
will be the third nice weekend in a row. So I'm pushin' my luck.
But all that's left is bolting the changer securely in place and
plugging in the wiring harness. I had to dismantle the dashboard
to attach the wiring harness to the appropriate circuits (I blew
three fuses doing so), and I had to pull up the carpet to run
the wiring inconspicuously to the changer. But about one more
hour of work should see it completed, and then I will have music.
My music.
It would seem that a new family of mice is in residence. Little brown and white guys. It must be awfully crowded in those walls. But we'll just keep haulin' 'em out one at a time and loggin' 'em in.
Last weekend my computer refused to access the 'net. Only it refused a different way each time. Messages included "Cannot locate modem" or "No dial tone detected" or "No answer." It couldn't be all those things, so I concluded that it was a modem dilemma. Computer dismantling was in order. I blew out accumulated dust, removed the modem card, reseated same, reinstalled the drivers, reassembled everything. Got nothing.
I was ready to call the isp and gripe about their modems, when something made we check the wall box (which I had wired myself, so there couldn't possibly be anything wrong there). A little green wired wagged at me when I removed the cover. Hmm. I reattached the little green wire and, sure 'nuff, I was able to join the 'net community again.
I hate days like that.
February 9, 1999 Tuesday
Sunday we caught two mice. Actually, the first was caught Saturday
night, but we didn't get home 'til after 1:00 a.m. I released
the guy (who again was a light brown over white two-tone model).
I washed out the trap, reset it, and went to bed.
The next morning I found another one (a light brown over white one again, exactly the same size as the others). Ever since Opie brought home a brown-over-white mouse that we caught within five minutes (before he/she could start a family); I've questioned whether the dozen or so two-tone mice we've hauled outa here are, in actuality, separate mice. Two-tone mice in the wild are not very common; they're more the result of controlled breeding. Or the introduction of a white mouse into the neighborhood.
Anyway, at 8:30 Sunday morning I'm peering half-awake into the trap at yet another brown over white mouse, which, as near as was possible to ascertain, was identical to all the other two-tone mice we've found lately.
So I took it upon myself to take steps to resolve this particular mystery. I got a red felt-tip marker and lightly drew two thin one-inch lines on the little fellow's back where he couldn't reach them. On the light brown fur they appear as dark brown, but at diagonal angles that would not likely occur naturally. And none of the other mice had any dark streaks. I gave him a little rub to be sure the ink was set, then turned him loose into the compost heap.
This morning we caught another two-tone mouse. He did not have the tell-tale diagional stripes. I'm still not convinced.
February 16, 1999 Tuesday
It's Fat Tuesday. I just like saying that. Fat Tuesday.
Okay, I concede that in all likelihood there is another mouse family in residence in our walls. This morning I removed the third mouse in 24 hours. And they all looked alike. (Very cute; light brown over white fur). Not the dull gray common house mouse, but a light two-tone, almost pet-like appearance.
Nevertheless, they are now sharing the compost heap with their brethren.
To those new to this site; the compost heap generates warmth and harbors very small insects along with the mice. They should be sufficiently happy not to return to our infrastructure. Of course, it wasn't their decision to come inside anyway; Opie offered no options.
A little over a week ago, I marked one of them with red ink, suspecting Opie had been recycling my efforts. Five mice have been through the trap since then, and none has sported the tell-tale red ink marks. But they all look identical.
So I've conceded that this is indeed another family that we are relocating one at a time. It takes a lot to convince me sometimes. Look for the Wife to issue an I-told-you-so in her entries. But I'm still gonna keep an eye out for a mouse with a couple red stripes on his back. :)
What day is it? Fat Tuesday! Enjoy.
February 21, 1999 Sunday
The mice are winning.
The first family of mice (November - December) was unique. Twenty in twenty-four days. We thought it was interesting enough to assign it Hall of Fame status. After it was over.
A few weeks later, it all started again. The time, extended somewhat. Twenty-four mice in 39 days. And counting. And they all look alike. The question is:
Q: Are they reproducing faster than we can catch them?
A: Too scary to ponder.
More later.
February 27, 1999 Saturday
We made an appointment to get Opie his annual shots and check-up
at 9:30 this morning. I got up at my usual time, fed Opie and
locked his door so he couldn't get out while I took my morning
walk. When I got home I had a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee
while reading the Sunday funnies (we get them delivered on Saturday
morning around here).
I finished all that around 8:30, and went out to the garage and got the cat carrier. I put it in the kitchen with the door open. Opie gets curious about it, ventures inside, and we close the door. Simple. It works every time.
Of course it was around then that I noticed Opie was not to be found. I checked the usual spots without luck. I know I locked the cat door, but I checked anyway. The cat door is a plastic pre-fab model with a 4-position knob: Fully Open/Out Only/In Only/Fully Locked. I thought I had turned it to Fully Locked. I had turned it to Out Only.
So with less than an hour to go, I'm out in the woods calling Opie's name. Up and down the creek bed for hundreds of feet in each direction. Twenty minutes later I'm sitting on the steps to the deck, cursing my dyslexic knob-turning skills, when Opie comes trotting out of the woods as if to ask "What are you doing here?"
So I go back in the house (Opie tags along willingly) and double-check the knob position on the cat door, then check to see if Opie is checking out the cat carrier.
Of course it was around then that I noticed that the wife was not to be found. We have ten minutes before we have to leave, and she's sound asleep.
Now it doesn't take two of us to take Opie to the vet, but it's tradition, dating back to when we had three cats and it did take two of us to get them to the vet (coulda used an extra person then too).
So while she's rushing around, I'm waiting for Opie to get curious about the carrier. But he's not interested. And trying to get an 18-lb. cat into a carrier against his will is not a good way to start your morning.
The wife wandered sleepily into the kitchen at 9:20 (when we should be leaving), and I leaned to give her a good morning kiss, when she darted away, noticing that Opie had stuck his front half into the carrier. She shoved him in the rest of the way, and closed the door.
Compared to the preparations, the actual vet visit was dull. But Opie is fine, he has his shots for another year, and by 10:15 am on a Saturday morning, I feel like I've put in a full weekend. :)
March 3, 1999 Wednesday
We went to the zoo last weekend, on a whim. This is me and a pygmy
marmoset (a small monkey). For some reason he was fascinated by
me; he was checking me out up close.
The two-tone mice continue to make themselves known, although not on a daily basis. If you’ve been checking the OpieLog, you’ll notice five straight days of no mice (02-21-1999 to 02-25-1999). We had a cold spell that week, and the temperature got down to the ‘teens, so I didn’t set the trap. These guys were born in the house (I believe) and have not experienced the outdoors yet, so I waited for the temps to remain above freezing again. Call me a softy.
The mice are released in the compost heap, where decaying organic stuff (mostly grass clippings) create warmth. I checked it out recently; found no less than 17 mouse burrows in the grass clippings.
I’ve also learned that mice apparently recognize their kin and form extended families. And did you know that if the mouse population becomes too large to be supported by their natural resources, the mice will stop breeding?
Humans could learn something from mice.
March 12, 1999 Friday
I know a guy who has a daughter who will be getting her driver’s
license this summer. And he knew all along that he’d be getting
her a car of her own (he and his wife both use their own cars
quite a bit; it would be an economic necessity that his daughter
have her own wheels).
He’s been keeping his eye out for a reliable used car for her, and one day he asked if there was any particular kind of car she wanted.
“I want a Volkswagen Beetle.”
He explained that a new car was not an option; she would have to settle for something old but reliable. And she explained that she wanted one of the old Volswagen Beetles, and that they were very reliable.
He thought about this briefly and found a ‘73 advertised for $1700.
“Can’t hurt to look,” he thought. He bought it.
End of story? Nope. The interior was in pretty ratty shape, so he found a catalog from a company specializing in old VW’s and ordered a complete brand new interior for it.
And while he was at it, a hub cap was missing and the others were rusting, so he bought all new hub caps.
The shiny new hub caps made the old bumpers look dingy. So he ordered new bumpers.
Now the 25 year old paint looks crappy. But since the new interior is black, he figures he can re-paint it any ol’ color. So he asked his daughter, and she likes the metallic teal on the new Buicks (note: metallic paint ain’t cheap).
All additional exterior chrome has also been replaced. And the brake lines, just to be safe.
And the running boards. Dunno why.
He’s having fun. I hope he gets it done by his daughter’s birthday.
So does his daughter.
March 16, 1999 Tuesday
It's St. Patrick's Eve. But we have mice to drive out, not snakes.
Repetitive Strain Injury; one of the anti-perks of computer usage. I woke up around one a.m. on Friday morning with an amazing pain in my left shoulder. Felt like a Pit Bull had been snacking on it. Flexing and massaging only made it worse. And it was deep pain; like a toothache in my shoulder. I finally packed ice around it and took a prescription dose of Advil and sat immobile in the living room for almost an hour. A fun thing to do if you're ever up at two a.m. and feeling bored. That worked to some extent. At least to the extent that I could go back to bed.
At five a.m. I was repeating the process. Only the pain was getting worse. So I bagged ice for packing the shoulder, then bagged work.
The ice probably helped, but I think the key was keeping the arm immobile so the muscle could heal. Which of course I didn't do. I was feeling better (read: over-confident) that evening and went shopping with the wife. The pain returned. So it was back to the ice packs (I did try heat; no help at all). This was the peak of pain and it took all evening to get it to subside.
I slept all the way through the night 'cuz I didn't move. Not a twitch. I didn't dare. The next morning I shredded a t-shirt and made a sling. That arm was not moving again 'til Arm-ageddon.
I got a slightly more professional sling from the nurse/sister-in-law so I could return to work without looking like a dork (any more than usual). All functions have returned as of today, but I'm not taking any chances. The arm stays in the sling one more day. I get more sympathy that way, too. :)
March 23, 1999 Tuesday
I am still confused by the mouse population. If there are that many mice living in the walls (we have caught over 60 in the last four months), why doesn't Opie's dry food disappear overnight? Leaving a few isolated Tender Vittles around informs me when a mouse is present (because they disappear). And yet not all of them disappear at once, suggesting the presence of only one or two mice.
I'm still suspicious that Opie is bringing in mice secretly; almost as frequently as we're hauling them out. He's only brought in two critters in the last four months that we know of, and they were non-mice (a frog and a rabbit; the rabbit was just this morning). Why would he take a break from critter capture while we continue to collect mice? Unless he didn't take a break and is secretly replenishing the mouse population on an almost daily basis. That's my theory.
The Wife says they've been there for months, reproducing periodically, so the total population remains small but constant. But mice don't reach puberty for two months, and the gestation period is another three weeks. There hasn't been time for a second generation yet. Even if one of the mice was pregnant when it arrived, there would still only be one additional generation. No more than twenty mice.
Of course, we can't prove either theory, so
we'll just continue to catch the critters and release them until
we ultimately run out of mice. In theory, at least.
March 30, 1999 Tuesday
I just wanna get through one day without hearing the words "ethnic Albanian" or "Slobodan Milosevic."
Do you think his nickname is "Slob"? Should be.
What a mess. Should we be involved? Somebody should.
They ignored Hitler when he was being really rude. Nobody got involved. Nobody assumed he wanted to take over the world the next day. Of course the Hitler wannabe in Yugo land has his hands full trying to take over his own country. And doing it badly. Seems the goal should be arresting Slobby for war crimes.
Too much preaching. On a brighter note:
Duke Blew Devils. Heh.
Have a fantastically wonderful day! If applicable.
April 12, 1999 Monday
I was reading through my college diaries from thirty years ago. I tend to do that around my birthday a lot (which isn't 'til June); I dunno why I was doing it this weekend. But on this weekend in 1969, I was doing some free-lance work with a hippie artist friend. It was piece work; we were puttimg together a catalog, and we were paid by the page. But the pages were so disorganized that it took much too long to assemble the pieces to make one page. Between the two of us we completed only five pages in four hours. But I did make $28 for my efforts. Or at least I received a check for that amount. A week later the check came back; the account had been closed. The company itself had vanished.
Thirty years ago tonight there was a pair of unique shows on tv. One was called "Music Scene" and the other was the "New People." Both were 45 minutes long and ran back to back on ABC. Both sucked. They were directed to the new "youth market," but failed to credit said market with any intelligence. Lily Tomlin made her tv debut on the "Music Scene."
Other tv that night:
"Harold Robbins' The Survivors" and "Love, American Style" on ABC.
"Gunsmoke,""Here's Lucy,""Mayberry, RFD,""Doris Day Show" and "Carol Burnett Show" on CBS.
"My World and Welcome to it,""Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In" and the Monday Night Movie on NBC.
Say g'night, Gracie.
April 19, 1999 Monday
In any grouping of anything, there has to be a least factor, a low item on the totem pole, a runt of the litter; something that determines what makes all other elements in the grouping better. It's not a cruelty element; it's just a simple mathematical necessity.
During the week, that would be Monday. One day has to be the crappiest; this is it. If the same junk happened on any other day, it wouldn't be so crappy. It's just that all the crap happens first on a Monday, after you've just gotten into unwinding over the weekend.
Do people who work weekends and have Tuesday and Wednesday off have a crappy Thursday? Do people who work staggered days have a different crappy day every week, or is the fact it's always a different day dilute the degree of crap one must face after a day off?
Hardly worth worrying about, is it?
Happy Monday.
April 29, 1999 Thursday
It was two years ago last Friday that I said g’bye to nicotine.
I’d smoked pipes and cigars for thirty years. When smoking
became very restricted in the workplace, I switched to smokeless
tobacco during working hours. After five years of that (and reading
about how gross mouth cancer is) I tried nicotine gum. It was
s’posed to help me quit in three months. After eight months
of the gum with no progress, I switched to The Patch. It worked.
I removed the last patch on April 23, 1997 and I haven’t
been back.
The OPIE Project set a new record last week. We caught and released three mice in one day. Opie's making up for lost time.
We still haven't eradicated the two-tone family from our walls. They're cute little guys, but this house isn't big enough for all of us (it's barely big enough for all our junk).
I think it's time to order some more of those wonderful humane traps. They really work great. Thank God.
Where did this month go, anyway?
April 30, 1999 Friday
I love spring.
But around here springtime is a two-week event. Then it gets hot. And humid. This weekend may mark the end of spring this year; they’re predicting temperatures in the 80’s, although no one has uttered "Humid" yet.
Two years ago, in a fit of individuality, I cut the roof off my 9-year-old Ford Ranger with a pneumatic cutting tool. I sealed the cut edges on the roof, making it removable. The problem is that the original roof weighs too much to be easily removed by one person, and it can’t be carried along in case of sudden inclemency, weather-wise.
So this spring I’m building a folding top for my impetuous act. It’s strictly a home-grown project, so I have no idea how well it’s going to work. So far it’s okay. Another week or two will tell. Watch this space for details and photos of the finished product.
June 14, 1999 Monday
Happy Flag Day, Americans. Salute.
Pictures. This is my truck. I bought it new in 1988,
when I was making more money than I do now. It is a Ford Ranger,
and it has treated me well. No repairs in 100,000 miles (except
a heater core and a thermostat). Since I plan to keep it 'til
the bitter end, I decided to have fun with it. Two years ago I
cut the roof off, sealed the ragged edges and replaced it. I then
had a convertible any time I wanted. Trouble was, I rarely wanted,
because the original steel roof was too heavy for one person,
and I couldn't carry it with me, so I had to be pretty dang sure
it wasn't going to rain.
So I decided to build my own lightweight,
stowable folding top. And this weekend that was completed, as
you see it here. It is all plexiglass on a wooden frame. The top
section is removable from the rest of the roof, and the sides
fold in against the rear window, to make two reasonably flat sections
that can be stowed in the pickup bed.
Yes the greenhouse effect is stifling in bright sun. Yes it leaks when it rains (in the corners where the top meets the windshield - same as the metal top). But what the hey; it's an original.
I have other plans for the trusty ranger this summer. Stay tuned.
June 19, 1999 Saturday
Today was my company picnic, which is usually a bunch of fun.
And it's usually 92 in the shade. For some reason, for the last
three years, the company picnic always seemed destined to fall
on a prematurely hot summer day.
But this year broke the curse. It barely got into the 80's and it was sunny and breezy. I won a door prize, even. A $25 gift certificate to Home Depot.
And nobody discussed business. Amazing.
One of the company's suppliers donated forty disposable cameras to be given out to employees to take Official Picnic Pictures. The pictures will be posted on a bulletin board. I don't know if anyone did the math, but that's more than 1,000 photos. That's gonna be a helluva bulletin board.
This week also marks the first anniversary of the Opie Project on the 'net. To celebrate, we did a bit of tweaking to existing pages, added more navigation icons, and added a new section called OpieWorld, which describes Opie's territory in words and pictures. Snoop around. And as always, comments and suggestions are welcomed.
And tomorrow is Father's Day. We covered that already. See the Wife's notes.
Happy Father's Day, where applicable.
June
22, 1999 Tuesday
The first day of summer is the longest day of the year. That couldn’t be more true in Fairbanks, Alaska. They have 23 hours of daylight there. Which is where we would have been now, had the Wife’s employer not decided that a new operating system for the company’s network was in order.
Fairbanks is only a couple hours drive from the Arctic Circle. On a gravel road (paved roads cease within seven miles of the city). There is a large sign there for the tourists to pose beside before returning to the city. Or continuing on to North Pole, Alaska. Or if really brave, to the North Shore Oil Fields, 400+ miles of dirt road. No gas stations, no rest rooms, no highway patrols, no humans. The state discourages tourists from making that trip ‘cuz it could be weeks before they are found.
The state minor league all-star game is played in Fairbanks on the first day of summer. The game is called for darkness when the sun sets, then resumed one hour later when the sun rises again.
I was prepared for this trip. So now I’m prepared for it next year.
June 30, 1999 Wednesday
Life is a collection of events. Some are joyous and some are grievous.
Most are just annoying.
Last Friday I tried uploading a page to this site, but I couldn't get in. As a test, I tried uploading to another site on a different server. Couldn't get on there either.
Something mucked up with the software. I tried re-installing it. I downloaded an upgrade from the 'net. I downloaded a different ftp. I yelled at it.
Must be something screwed up with my configuration I deduced. Started playing with the modem drivers 'til I thoroughly screwed that up and had to reinstall the modem. Still nothing.
So I tried it from the Wife's machine. Same result. So it wasn't the software or the machine configuration. Could it be at the server end of BOTH sites I tried uploading to? The Wife tried uploading to a third site. It worked. From her machine and from mine. What were the odds?
Monday I was able to upload to site #2. But I still couldn't get to Opie's pages. I dashed off an e-mail of inquiry to the ISP (WTF are u guys doin'?). No response.
Then suddenly tonight, everything is working. There's peace in the valley again.
But I hate it when this suff happens.
July 10, 1999 Saturday
The Hall of Fame nominating committee chose to put on hold any
consideration for a new inductee. It seems that the mouse that
was caught last week was not the mouse that had been successfully
stealing food from the traps. Shortly after his capture and subsequent
release, the food began disappearing from the traps again.
Two days ago we caught another mouse. Could this be the elusive rodent with the bait-stealing talent? No, to answer the question. The food in the traps continued to vanish.
Can there be a whole family of these creatures that has figured out how to get fed without getting caught?
Minutes ago, another mouse was added to the OpieLog of Kidnapped Kritters. He is currently reuniting with his siblings out at the compost heap. Was he the Purloiner of Pet Food? The traps have been freshly baited, and "teaser food" has been placed outside the trap as a come on (a mouse will not hesitate to take the teaser food; it lets us know if there is still a rodent in residence).
Stay tuned for further developments.
July 22, 1999 Thursday
I suppose you've heard that this week is the thirtieth anniversary
of the first manned expedition to reach the moon. If not, you've
been living in a sock.
I was twenty-five, had just split up with a girl friend and lost my job (crappy as it was), and was feeling lousy, but I don't feel any of that when I think back on the moon landing. I just remember my absolute amazement that there were actually human beings on the moon and I was watching it. Before that it was all science fiction and bad Saturday afternoon movies. Now it was real. You realized that this was one of the doors of perception. Once you pass through, things are never the same again.
I dug up my diary entry for that that historic day and discovered that I had relegated the entire event to two lines about visiting some neighbors and watching it on television. Samuel Pepys I'm not.
It's too bad space exploration is so expensive; we need that kind of positive, euphoric, pull-together pride to bolster our lives. If it hadn't been for the cold war and competition with the Soviets, we probably still wouldn't have gotten to the moon yet.
There's talk of a manned flight to Mars in ten years. That will be amazing. But nobody will care. They'll watch and be proud and forget about it and begin every opinion with "We can send a man to Mars, why can't we ..." You know how it goes.
I'm hoping that we'll make contact with another intelligent species in my lifetime. That will be a giant leap for mankind.
July 27, 1999 Tuesday
I'm home alone. The Wife is at the shore with her sisters. This means dishes in the sink all week, and unswept floors. I do water the plants, however.
And the lawn. I watered that all night last night 'cuz I forgot to turn off the sprinklers before going to bed. And we're facing possible drought restrictions. Sorry.
It seems that subtle little changes occur in the Opie Project that we just aren't aware of, sometimes. Like suddenly trapping two mice a day instead of one.
I started using peanut butter in the traps, instead of Tender Vittles (the Tender Vittles are much neater, but not as aromatic), and almost immediately increased mouse capture productivity.
Does that mean they were so complacent that they snubbed the usual Tender Vittles? Their food source is pretty much limited to the cat's food (we don't leave human food out for the obvious reason), so it's not like there's a buncha pickin' and choosin' for them.
I usually am able to construct pretty elaborate theories when the mice do something unpredictable, but this time I'm at a loss.
And you know what? Being at a loss regarding these critters is not so bad. It keeps things interesting. I look forward to greeting a new mouse every morning and evening. :)
July 30, 1999 Friday
The following is last year's entry for this date. It still pretty
much applies:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Things have been pretty quiet this week, mostly 'cuz the wife
is down the shore with her sisters, and I'm home being a world-class
slacker. Just check out my slacker credentials:
Dishes piled in the sink
Bags of trash in the kitchen
Light bulb out front burned out weeks ago
A month's worth of paychecks stuffed in a drawer, undeposited
Bills normally covered by paychecks unpaid
Lawn is brown and crunchy from lack of watering
Weeds profuse amongst cracks in driveway
But my e-mail is up to date. Priorities.
This is my busy time of year at work, and it's been even busier than usual. I spend tedious hours in front of a computer, then come home and spend tedious hours in front of a computer. Life is good.
Drive carefully.
August 5, 1999 Thursday
I would like to relate something really exciting that happened
to me today.
Unfortunately there was no such event. It was just another day on the job, laboring under a monstrous seasonal burden that will likely continue through Labor Day. It runs the gamut from tedious to boring and back. The fun of being creative isn't there because there isn't time for creativity.
So we crank it all out as best we can.
This time of year just plain sucks. The customer is always right, but not always bright. So I work my butt off to assure the really dumb customers that, yes, their way is better.
The work flows through like a flash flood, and my job is to bottle it. It was this time last year that I did a calendar that had to be reprinted because I left the dates off the month of April. Well, the "Millennium" edition of that job has returned, and I'm doing my best to avoid being the one who works on it this year.
It's stupid; I get home late and I'm too keyed up to do anything, so I don't, and I end up in bed by 10:30. Then it starts all over again. By the time the weekend arrives, just being able to do nothing seems like an accomplishment.
Haven't worked any weekends yet this year; that's something.
Hope I wasn't griping too much. This is my therapy. I'll get over it.
Have a nice day.
August 13, 1999 Friday the 13th
Happy birthday, Fidel Castro.
There was a total eclipse of the sun in Europe this week.
I saw a total eclipse once. March 1970 in Cape Charles VA. Among the most memorable things about it were the seagulls that flew out to a sand bar and went to sleep, thinking it was nighttime.
Or seeing the shadow of the moon come zooming across the ocean at 1500 mph.
Or seeing the shadows of the mountains of the moon dancing around on the beach as the sun re-emerged.
Or the Corvair convertible full of kids driving around honking their horn.
That last one isn’t a feature typical of eclipses; it’s just one the events that I remember occurring during my only experience with a total eclipse.
Total eclipses are cool. They should have them more often. But then they wouldn’t be so cool, would they?
We all need to get a little celestial occasionally.
Cape Charles VA
March 1970
August 19, 1999 Thursday
Both the Wife and I are in the midst of intense days at work.
We’re both working extra hours and we’re both pooped
by the time we get home. Topics of conversation tend to revolve
half-heartedly around the extra workloads we’re dealing with.
More often than not, there is no conversation; we just vegetate
quietly in the glow of the idiot box.
But last week, for no particular reason, we had dinner out on the deck (for the first time this year). It was just hamburgers and hot dogs and fries and ‘tater salad, but it was a quiet evening, not too humid. More importantly, it took us away from the daily grind. Time disappeared and we were just there in the moment. And as darkness descended we were just unwinding, sipping coffee and watching the stars come out.
And Mars. Mars is particularly bright just now.
And bats. We knew there were bats in the woods; we see them occasionally, but we never noticed how many were visible against the darkening sky just by sitting and watching.
Stars, Mars and bats. It doesn’t sound
like much, but it was a mini-vacation.
August 25, 1999 Wednesday
My video camera died (it was eleven years old). It happened suddenly.
It just wouldn't come on, in either camera or player mode (I ruled
out a faulty switch, based on that). Neither the battery or the
AC power supply will get it to come on.
I considered getting it fixed, but it might not be worth it, and it would cost me sixty bucks to find out.
The wife suggested we get a new one for our anniversary (we always go in on one gift for our anniversary that we will both use), and she added that we should get a digital one, so we won't have to replace it for another eleven years.
It doesn't take much to talk me into buying a new gadget, so I agreed. We began checking out digital camcorders and there were plenty out there that I liked, starting at $1500. They were tiny, and they recorded directly to mini-discs. So cool. But our budget was considerably less, and we decided on a Sony for $800. I particularly liked the built-in digital still camera feature, even though it was crappy resolution. I want a digital still camera, but I gotta have a camcorder first. So this included a consolation prize.
Our anniversary is not 'til October (same day as Bill and Hillary's). We are not the kind of folks who buy something months before the event and say that's what it's for. When our anniversary rolled around, we would have nothing meaningful to give each other.
So now we sit around and wait for our anniversary :-)
August 31, 1999 Tuesday
We broke down and bought a digital still camera. The original
plan was to buy a digital camcorder with digital snapshot capability.
But the more we looked at the camcorders in our price range, the
less impressed we were. Take away the digital factor and there
wasn’t much camera left. If I went non-digital, I could get
a lot more camera for $400 than the one that just pooped out.
That left $400 to spend on a digital still camera.
The original Sony Mavica still camera is down to $500. 640x480, but with a 10x zoom, meaning I could zoom into the heart of a picture to get my 640x480’s worth. And it uses floppy disks, so I never have to upgrade memory or download pix. I figure it would meet our needs. And if we bought the $400 non-digital camcorder, and the $500 Mavica, we’re only $100 over budget and we’ve got two new cameras.
The wife didn’t want the Mavica; not at 640x480, anyway. She wanted higher resolution. So we went out looking at cameras again; this time digital stills. Sony has three high-res Mavicas that use floppies. The top-of-the-line was $1000 bucks and looked like a professional camera. And it was big, for a digi. But it had a 14x zoom. So I drooled over that (zoom is the way I photograph).
Then the wife saw the Olympus C2000. "It’s so cute!" Cute is apparently a deciding factor.
It was a neat camera. 1200x1600, fully automatic, Very tiny (about 3"x4"). But it came with an 8Mb SmartMedia card, which meant another $100 to upgrade the memory. And it didn’t come with rechargeable batteries or a charger. Or an AC adapter. No usb connection. And it only had a 3x zoom. But the wife would go no further. She wanted that camera. After all, it was cute. We returned home to discuss it further.
The fancy Mavica has a 14x zoom (she is a good photographer and composes her shots in the viewfinder); I figured that would sell it.
With a 1600x1200 resolution, you could crop it way down to the equivalent of a 10x zoom at 640x480. And the Sony’s max res is only 1024x768, she noted.
But the 14x zoom would compensate for that. And 1024x768 is the full screen of your 17" monitor. And you wont be shooting high res pics that often to avoid using up memory, which is no problem with the Sony, you just bring extra floppies. You hafta spend extra for more memory on the Olympus.
The Olympus takes a 32 Mb SmartCard, which holds 156 1024x768 images. Did I plan to carry 32 floppies around? And you’d hafta swap floppies every coupla pictures.
The Mavica is ugly; the Olympus is cute.
She had me there. How do you argue with that?
I took a closer look at the Mavica with the 14x zoom. It really was ugly and bulky (for a digital). And one vacation could have me lugging home a hundred floppies, which I would have avoided labelling, and it would be months before I got around to downloading. With a SmartCard you hafta download it if you want to use it again. So I weakened.
And we got it. We wore out two sets of cheapy alkaline batteries the first day while playing with it. We tried different resolutions, and settled on 1024x768 as our default res for most shots.
So now we hafta get a 32 Mb SmartCard, an AC adapter and a floppy disk adapter. :)
Which means our original budget of $800 for the digital camcorder with the digital still feature turned into a $1700 purchase for two cameras. Which neither of us can afford.
I plan to become proficient with that little thing. I don’t regret getting it over the Sony. It is easy to use and carry around, and it does just about anything you’d want a camera to, digital or film.
And it’s cute.
September 15, 1999 Wednesday
Every morning I take a one-mile walk around the neighborhood as
my concession to exercise. This morning I grabbed the new digital
camera and documented my trip. And I deviated from my usual pre-determined
route and hiked down to the duck pond (a half-mile, straight out
and back).
During the summer the pond is overrun
with Canadian Geese. It's then that three of the ducks occasionally
find their way up the creek bed from the pond to OpieWorld and
hang out in our back yard. We named them Huey, Dewey and Louie.
The geese have moved on for now, and the ducks have their pond back. It looked big and empty without the geese, but the ducks were happy. I found Hewey, Dewey and Louie, hanging out together, as usual, along with several momma ducks and their latest offspring.
My morning walk usually involves encounters with the harried work-a-day world (convoys of commuters leaving the suburbs, kids trudging to school bus stops, dogs being walked or trash cans being dragged to the curb). But today it was a hike to the pond, and a few peaceful minutes sprawled on a bench chatting with the ducks. I may start doing this more regularly.
September 21, 1999 Tuesday
Today I had a colonoscopy. One of the perks of living past fifty.
I have a family history of colon polyps, and those things are
considered pre-cancerous, so a screening every five years is tolerable.
What is less tolerable is the preparation for this thing. The day before, one is required to drink four liters of a foul prescription liquid that can best be described as forty weight lemonade. One glass every half-hour for eight hours. Gag. Literally. And of course you can guess the purpose of this cocktail. It's to clean out the large intestine so the doctor will have an unobstructed view and he shoves a camera through its full length.
So the day before is a full schedule of bloating, gagging, belching and diarrhea. Sometimes simultaneously. You're pretty much confined to the proximity of a bathroom. Just getting the mail is a risky proposition.
Such was my day. And it didn't end with the final gulp of the Awfulness. There was still better than an hour of its consequences to endure before it slacked off enough that I could risk sleep. By then I was empty. I hadn't eaten in twelve hours, bowel control was iffy, and I had an invasive medical procedure waiting in the morning. Sleep was unsound.
By comparison, the procedure was a piece of cake, 'cuz I was unconscious throughout. Actually I wasn't; I was under what was called conscious sedation. I was awake, but remembered nothing. Just as well. But the Doctor and the Nurse/Anesthesiologist were wonderful, so the procedure was less stressful than the 10-meter Olympic Bathroom Dash.
The results were negative (that's good). Nothing abnormal in there.
So the next thing I know I'm in the recovery room, and the Wife is there holding my hand. It took a while before I could sit up and get dressed, and even longer before I could walk. But it's over.
Until 2004. Maybe that crud will taste better by then.
September 23, 1999 Thursday
Diamonds. The original pet rock. What a racket. Proof that human beings evolved from sheep.
Pure vanity, outrageously priced by artificial demand. "How else can two month's salary last forever?" Two months?! Are they outa their ##%!* minds? Put two month's salary in T-bills and wait ten years; then you'll have an anniversary to celebrate. Take a cruise to some exotic part of the world. That'll enrich your life more than any material possession.
Want to show her you'd marry her all over again? Use your brain; do something original and romantic that she'll always remember, not what some business interest tells you to. She'll remember a spontaneous romantic weekend for the two of you long after she's forgotten the thrill of getting a piece of pressurized carbon.
And then there's the wedding industry. The Husband frequently mentions a wedding he attended that was held in front of a fountain in a state park that was converted to a church altar with all the appropriate trappings; it was not elaborate by any means, but it was romantic and memorable, which should be the only prerequisites.
But "tradition" states that you must spend $20,000, and have the same crap every other industrial-strength wedding has. Sorry, no substitutions; we can't handle that. Couldn't a married couple just starting out find a better use for $20,000? Most marriages that fail in the first year do so over disagreements about money.
But until the sheep rise up, the crap will prevail.
September 28, 1999 Tuesday
Back in June I completed the folding plexiglass top for my truck
(which I had decided should be a convertible the previous year).
See notes #2 for June. At that time I had mentioned that there
were other changes in store for the 12-year old but still reliable
Ford Ranger, and that they would be posted as they occurred.
So here we are. A new pickup box was constructed from heavy sheet plastic, heat-formed, epoxied and bolted over the original Ranger bed. The lower quarter panels are from a ‘55 Chevy. Chrome trim will ultimately hide the mounting screws, and it is currently in its first coat of primer, but its visual intent is apparent. The design was to emulate the form and bulk of late 50’s Cadillacs. The fins are suggestive of a ‘58, while the taillight treatment (not yet installed) will be ‘59. The box had to be extended a foot and a half to properly convey the Cadillac "look," and the whole time I was assembling this portion of the project, a recurrent thought occupied my mind, to wit: What the hell have you gone and done now?
But I’m in too deep; the point of no return has passed. And I’ve at least got to get all the parts painted before cold weather sets in, which is rapidly approaching.
The next two weeks are gonna be interesting. And busy.
Next: A ‘56 Ford front end. Stay tuned.
September 30, 1999 Thursday
Do any of the following ring a bell?
To Have and To Hold
The Secret Lives of Men
Vengeance Unlimited
Trinity
Wind on Water
Holding the Baby
Conrad Bloom
Brimstone
Encore Encore
Brother's Keeper
They’re tv shows that were hyped as the hot new shows one year ago but are now history. Forgotten history. Wind on Water didn’t make it past the third show. It was set in Hawaii and starred Bo Derek. Coming back to you now?
The point is, tv is garbage and easily forgettable. I have a very good record at predicting tv shows failure rate. It’s not that I’m good; they’re just so bad. Last year only seven shows survived of the 35 introduced the year before. Garbage. There are shows that just have failure stamped all over them;
I mention all that because this year I’ve either lost the knack, or an inordinate amount of the shows have promise. I don't like Third Watch already, and Love or Money (and I haven't even seen that one yet. Failure stamp). And the many Felicity/Dawson's Creek/Party of Five emulators are doomed. But the rest escape that telltale failure quality. Once and Again and Now and Again have possible failure potential. The West Wing was good, but that could easily deteriorate into pretentious crap.
Somehow I’m optimistic about the absence of the instant failure syndrome. I always thought tv had potential; it’s encouraging to see even a modest use of that potential.
But tv is still crap. Use that time on the ‘net.
Oh, yeah; the Mike O'Malley Show. New this year. Gone. Two shows. Take heart, Bo Derek.
October 8, 1999 Friday
I learned something about auto painting last week:
Not to do it again.
What a mess. Paint everywhere. And cleaning up took longer than the actual painting. And never having done this before, I had thin spots and runs, mostly on me, some on the truck.
But I accomplished my goal of having the painting
done before the cold weather set in. But then I had to put all
the painted parts onto the truck, 'cuz I had no place else to
put them. So I did.
And in my haste I broke a couple parts. Others didn't fit right and hafta be adjusted. But it's all salvagable. It's just a major pain in the butt.
At least I don't have heat and humidity to deal with any more. Of course New Jersey, being what it is, will turn really cold really quickly. So I still have to fabricate a rear bumper and taillights (the current arrangements are temporary), and affix the side trim (which, if done in haste, will look like crap), a time-consuming effort for a seemingly simple task.
In the meantime, I'm driving a work in progress. It looks like a freshly-painted junker.
So I have once again arbitrarily assigned myself a deadline of month's end to make the thing look like there actually has been three years of work behind it.
Stay tuned for further developments.
October 19, 1999 Tuesday
Been having problems uploading to the server; that's why the daily
log updates and notes pages are lagging behind. Technicians are
correctly the dilemma as we speak ... er ... as you read. I hope.
There’s no place like home. Especially after two nights in a hotel undergoing new construction. At 7:30 each morning, the hammering, shouting and banging began. Our view consisted of scaffolding, demolition debris and stacks of foam insulation. Of course, when we reserved the room, we were not apprised of this situation, nor offered a discount.
But that’s behind us. We spent last week travelling around the Chesapeake Bay. Our goal was to eat voraciously, sleep soundly, then drive to a new destination and begin again. Except for the aforementioned two nights at Hotel Hell, we succeeded beyond our greatest expectations.
And we both needed it. We actually managed to relax for a while.
Briefly, the incidental non-eating, non-sleeping, non-driving events are as follows:
Visited the wild ponies of Chincoteague Island.
Visited Colonial Williamsburg.
Breakfast with niece (Wm & Mary student).
Toured Wilderness and Chancellorsville Civil War battlefields.
Visited Viet Nam Memorial (the wall) in D.C.
It rained on Monday (our anniversary), but all other days were beautiful (not typical of our vacations; we usually attract inclemency).
But now we’re home. And ready to plan our next vacation -- Alaska.
October 27, 1999 Wednesday
I have two sets of keys. One set has all the keys I could ever
want, the other is just the car keys. For some reason, I took
the car keys when I left for work and didn't even realize it until
I got home and found myself locked out. Opie (who has his own
door) was waiting patiently for my return on the front steps.
He was, however, confused as to why I wasn't going in the house
to feed him. He wound himself around my legs to remind me of my
mission.
I pondered my plight briefly and realized that my options were few. I could get the spare key from my parents-in-law, or I could drive to the Wife's work and get her key. The in-laws were closer, but not by much, and the Wife might be pleasantly surprised if I showed up unannounced.
I opted for the latter. The hard part was getting back in the car while Opie purred loudly, anticipating dinner. He just sat there in the driveway, meowing at me, because I didn't realize he hadn't been fed yet.
I actually got out of the car to pet him on the head and explain that I would be back as soon as I could. I actually did that. I could feel his big sad eyes on me as I drove away.
The Wife and I ended up going out to dinner, which was relaxing, and I managed to forget all about my stupidity. And Opie. We didn't get home 'til nine, and Opie was quite happy to see us both. We apologized profusely to him, and all was forgiven when the food dish was placed on the floor.
He spent the evening in my lap, purring contentedly
as the Yankees pounded the Braves senseless.
.
October 29, 1999 Friday
Happy Birthday Bob.
I just happened to notice this sign today, and I just happened to have the trusty digi cam with me, so I had to stop and preserve it. I dunno; it just struck me funny.
Do I have an unconventional sense of humor (well, I do, but besides that), or do you find it humorous also? Let me know.
My ISP has been doing all kinds of strange things lately. I frequently find that I can't upload to the server (which is why there are gaps in the notes and daily updates), and I got a notice today that the server will be down for a coupla hours on Sunday, and I got another notice that the dial-up numbers are changing. Where I used to have 3 local dial-up numbers, I am now down to one. Which means that the total sum of the subscribers who were using those three numbers will now all be vying for the one number (actually the users of one of the defunct numbers can go to another number on the opposite fringe, meaning only slightly more than double the users will be trying for that one number. :)
If the Opie Project suddenly goes quiet for a while, please be patient. Technology can be a major pain in the butt, but we shall return.
I gotta get a domain name.
Halloween '99 Sunday
Those guys were our pumpkins last
year. This year we managed to get a pumpkin at the last minute,
but never had time to carve it. So it sat outside, just being
a pumpkin (it wasn't bad for a last minute pumpkin, though, especially
after this summer's drought that promised smaller pumpkins).
Here's the truck, decked out for Halloween:
I know I promised updates on the truck's progress, but there hasn't
been much lately. I haven't been able to get the Cadillac taillights
(four of 'em) to point in the same precise direction. And today
the weather was warm enough to add the stick-on side trim (four-inch-wide
ribbed gold panels), but I haven't photographed that yet (it was
almost dark when I finished, and the ghoulies were approaching).
Truck update in the near future. Promise.
Eighty tricker-treaters this year, down from 105 last year. Still a good turnout.
Happy Halloween.
November 2, 1999 Tuesday
Election day.
If turnout is typical of these elections, twice as many people will stay home as go out to vote. And it’s raining. That’ll help.
I have my own election reform plan. Ready?
Eliminate political ads entirely (sounds good already, huh?) Billions of wasted dollers saved. The victor would no longer be the richest candidate. Elizabeth Dole could continue her campaign.
Create a central election website (crap.gov) where every candidate for every office from dogcatcher to president posts his platform (the site would be subdivided by federal/state/county, etc.). The candidates can use their page to say whatever they want. At no cost! They can add and/or change their message at any time. And voters would be actively forced to find out about their candidates, rather than be bombarded by them. The week before the election, each candidate would submit his resume to the local papers, so that voters could compare them side-by-side.
You say voters won’t bother to do the research? You think they do now? They tune out those billions of dollars of advertising and stare dumbly at the panel of names in the voting booth, awaiting divine intervention. Is there a benefit to making it easier for the clueless to vote? Did you think the incumbent’s advantage meant they were the best person for the job?
What about people without internet access? Introduce them to the library. The government’s "matching campaign funds" (which would no longer apply) would go to providing terminals at every library strictly for the purpose of accessing crap.gov. Take it further: put a terminal in every post office. Or every shopping mall. Someday we’ll be voting on the ‘net, y’know?
Every position on the voting machine would include a "no confidence" choice. If No Confidence receives the majority of votes, all candidates for that office are eliminated, and a new election for that office would be required. Eliminates the lesser-of-two-evils choice.
Every voting machine should have a keyboard for write-in candidates. Computers could search and count the names, rather than the tedious manual reading and counting . Nobody understands the write-in procedure anyway. And they should.
Election day should be two days long, with results reported after the first day. Dunno if that would help, but it would make it interesting. Kinda like a halftime report.
But I had you after "eliminate political ads entirely," didn’t I?
November 10, 1999 Wednesday
Well, I’m impressed.
The recent controversy regarding whether Opie captured a chipmunk or a squirrel has generated quite a response (and all of one voice, I might add).
I determined it was a chipmunk because it looked like a chipmunk. That’s usually a good indication. But it did have a long, bushy tail. Not as bushy as a squirrel’s, but definitely not the flat tail of a long-tailed chipmunk. And it had a squirrel-sized body (larger than a chipmunk’s).
And it had the disposition of a squirrel (i.e. nasty); chipmunks generally keep their opinions to themselves. Not this guy. It made it known that he did not appreciate being dragged into the house.
I accepted that there was squirrel ancestry in this chipmunk, but it was nonetheless a chipmunk.
For the next week we received screenfuls of e-mail, questioning everything from my judgement to my own ancestry, and all in support of Opie’s contention that it was truly a squirrel.
There was literally mail from every continent, noting that Opie deserved credit for a squirrel capture.
So I am giving in to public opinion. This particular capture will be placed in the Hall of Fame (since it was responsible for the greatest deluge of e-mail in the history of the Opie Project), just as soon as I can come up with a picture of a bushy-tailed chipmunk . And Opie will receive credit in the OpieLog for one (1) squirrel, albeit asterisked.
Chipmunks are brown with stripes to conceal them in the twigs and leaves of the forest floor (where they live). Squirrels are gray to blend with the bark of the treetops (where they live). Chipmunks, ground/squirrels, trees.
The weather has been nice lately, and I will occasionally sit out on the deck and watch the trees with binoculars, looking for the squirrel/chipmunk. If I spot him in the trees, then he’s a squirrel, and the asterisk will be removed.
November 17, 1999 Wednesday
There are six traffic lights between home and work, and ever since
I took this job ten years ago, I have wondered about the possibility
of catching them all green on any given day.
I think the odds are 720 to 1. If I drive that route twice a day for 250 days out of the year, I should catch them all green once every year and a half.
But I never have. Not in ten years. I’ve gotten the first five all green twice, but never all six.
So something is missing from the equation, and it seems to be the sixth light. It is about six hundred feet from the fifth light, and I can see it plainly from the fifth light. The logical conclusion is that they are timed to control traffic speed and volume. I have never gotten both of them green, as best as I can remember. But if they are controlling traffic, I haven’t figured out how.
The fifth light intersects a lightly-travelled road. When traffic is heavier, the light stays green longer to allow more traffic to proceed. When traffic is light, it turns red shortly after the last car has gone through the intersection. So it is reading the traffic.
But the sixth light intersects a four-lane road, and traffic is almost always heavy there, so it’s not likely that a steady flow of traffic would keep the light green longer or it wouldn’t change ‘til almost midnight.
If the two lights are coordinated, then the light at the less-travelled intersection would seem to be determining the traffic at the more heavily travelled intersection, and that doesn’t make sense either.
Neither does the sixth light change at a pre-set time in relation to the fifth light; it changes at varying times, but never so that you can travel from the fifth light through the sixth.
I found this to be curious at first. But the more I thought about it, the stranger it got. Now it’s really buggin’ me.
I ponder this for several minutes each day, during my daily commute. If that works out to thirty hours of pondering a year, what are the odds that I’ll ever figure it out?
But I will, y'know. :)
November 25, 1999 Thursday
Happy Bird Day everyone, with an additional Happy Birthday to
my brother, for whom I have not yet gotten a birthday present.
But he lives in another state, and I don't expect to see him 'til
Christmas, so I'll manage something by then.
The Wife decided that we (meaning she) would have the Thanksgiving festivities for her family this year (we will spend Christmas with my family, then do the opposite next year - Thanksgiving with my family, Christmas with hers) and she and her sisters are toiling merrily in the kitchen at this moment. I have been banished from the site.
The rest of the clan will begin arriving in a few hours. Normally I'd be out working on the truck, but it's an ugly, gray, drizzly day.
Speaking of The Truck ...
I've been promising an update on it for a coupla weeks. For those
not interested in my three-year creative exercise, you probably
haven't even noticed. For the remaining ever-patient few of you,
click here.
And to all, Happy Thanksgiving.
November 30, 1999 Tuesday
You can't believe what a stuffed
animal costs these days!
Happy birthday, Wife.
December 8, 1999 Wednesday
Around this time of year I get philosophical. But not because
it's an extended religious or multi-cultural season of peace.
It's because every year at this time we drive out to the Christmas tree farm and kill a perfectly healthy tree.
But the trees are raised for that purpose, in much the same way that farm animals are raised for food. And it's no different from what a florist does year-round. It's probably more special, because we celebrate the tree for nearly a month. Then we drag the tree out into the woods, where its prone position provides warmth and shelter for the woodland creatures as it decays.
Every living thing has a will to live, yet for any life form to survive, a continual series of lives must end. It's called the food chain, and it involves plants, as well as animals. I suppose God, in his infinite wisdom, knows what He's doing, but He's buggin' the hell out of me while doing it.
And we bring the dead tree in our house and decorate it; we've long forgotten the reason why, we just do. And everyone smiles when they see it and say what a nice job we've done.
So every year, when the season of merriment commences, I force myself to look at life and death, philosophically. Maybe I need that.
Maybe we all do.
December 18, 1999 Saturday
One week to go. And I've been so smug about having my shopping
done early that I've totally ignored the little details that remain
unaddressed.
I make personalized gifts for my nieces and nephews that contain the cop-out gift certificates that I give every year. I haven't even begun them.
And I found gifts for my sisters that beg for some personalizing as well.
And there's the Wife's calendar that I make every year featuring PhotoShop-altered photos of her life; that remains incomplete (and I still have to print it out on the large color printer at work, and we're extremely busy at the present, so I will need to stay after hours to complete that. And we're closed Thursday and Friday, so they'll be locking up right on time Wednesday night, so I actually have only two days to accomplish that.
And the conventional gifts aren't wrapping themselves.
And now Opie chose to catch a virus of some sort that requires us to force-feed him large antibiotic capsules.
And the Wife's car was whacked by a Lexus. The Lexus won (final score: Capri - 3000, Lexus -6. As measured in dollars), so it's shop-bound for the holidays and we're putting around in an econobox rental.
Not to mention a myriad of social functions, the first being in a couple hours.
So in lieu of all the above, I'm keeping the Opie Project up to date :)
Seasonal felicitations to all ...
December 24, 1999 Friday
It's Christmas eve, and all through the house, not a creature is stirring, except the wife. In fact she's got several pots going, preparing her contribution to Christmas morning brunch at the sis-in-law's. And while that's happening, she trying to complete wrapping duties. And it's almost midnight.
She's been so busy lately -- can I get a heartfelt "Awwwwwwww..."?
Of course I just finished my wrapping and I'm ready for those visions of sugar plums to dance on my head. Orsomething.
It never fails; I had all my shopping done by the 12th (I think), yet I put off the personalizing and wrapping 'til the last minute.
Then tonight, Christmas eve, at 7:00 o'clock, I discover that I had no turnsignals. Turned out to be only a blown fuse.
Only. Try finding a 15-amp auto fuse on Christmas eve. They're tiny little things; gas stations could stockpile hundreds of dollars worth in a cubic foot of space. But do they? Nooooooooooooo. I must have driven to every gas station that was open. No luck. And I hafta drive to Delaware tomorrow. Looking at it positively, I get to practice my hand signaling abilities.
God bless us, everyone.
December 29, 1999 Wednesday
It was another fun Christmas.
The Wife got her car back, fully repaired. The shop even detailed the car, front to back. It was in better shape than before the accident. A Christmas bonus. I had wanted her to take a picture of the damage before she took it into the shop, but she was so stressed out about her fun little car's mashed rear end, that she just wanted it fixed, and that took precedent over all things.
I was equally impressed with their work. It was beautiful. The car, eight years old, looks brand new. And they had to use used parts; new parts might have been so expensive that the insurance company would have declared the car totalled.
The Wife said the shop had a huge bulletin board full of letters of recommendation and appreciation, and she thought that was a bit of hype when she first went in. Now she's planning to send them one to add to their display.
As she puts it, if her car had to be hit, this was the most pleasant way to do it.
Coulda been worse. A lot worse.
Okay, let's get this Y2K crap outa the way.
December 31, 1999 Friday
Technically, it is not December 31; it is 1-1-00. We made it.
I'm at the Wife's place of employment; she is here to maintain
sanity in the event the doo-doo hits the fan. I'm just here to
play on the T1 line. The fears were apparently for nought; we
have phone service, internet connections, electricity, and the
toilets flush. But the wife has to hang out 'til dawn, just to
be sure there are no little hidden surprises.
I brought the digital camera, and I thought I had the floppy adapter to download timely Y2K pics, but instead I brought an empty box. I still took lotsa pictures to commemorate the occasion.
So there were no major glitches to report, either locally or nationally. Someone even had a police scanner, but all is quiet.
Which is as it should be. You can empty your bathtub now.
Happy Y2K (final year of the millennium :)).