I know this is as pointless as trying to explain Iraq to France, but it still burns me up.
CNN is reporting that there is a new telemarketer tool out there that can foil the TeleZapper.
I love my TeleZapper. It plugs right into your phone line, between your phone (or answering machine) and wall. When Satan’s Minions, I mean, when the telemarketers call, the TeleZapper sends a tone that tells the telemarketer that your phone has been disconnect. So, you get removed from their phone list, and your phone number doesn’t get sold because it is out of order.
Before I got this charming product, I would get five telemarketing calls a day. Now, at worst I get one a week, and then that gets zapped.
No more.
While with one side of their mouth the Spawn of Hades, I mean, the telemarketers say they don’t want to call people that don’t want their calls, they make this technology to get around something that actually stops them. It should be clear that if a) I have a TeleZapper, b) I install it, and c) I cackle with glee when it beeps and the unknown caller at the other end hangs up, that I don’t want these Large Bags of Scum to be calling me.
I have never bought anything from a telemarketer. In fact, before I got the TeleZapper, I would have fun with them, trying to get them to stay on the line for as long as possible, and seeing if they would hang up first.
I would do this a lot: “Oh, this sounds interesting! Wait, hang on a minute.” Then I’d put the phone down and continue flossing the cat.
Other times I would ask them tons of questions, but let it come out that I was interested in buying drugs from them and wondering how their product would help me do that. That usually got them to hang up on me once they figured it out.
I’ve tried to convert some to Jesus by acting like a Jehovah’s Witness. They would hang up quicker when being proselytized to than when I suggested they were drug dealers or that they were trying to sell me porn.
I want those phone calls to end. Spam I can easily delete, though it is getting worse. I don’t mind getting postal mail that is spam. I give it a chance to convince me to look at it – long enough for me to pick it and throw it in the trash. Sometimes something will catch my attention, and I do love shopping out of catalogs.
Unfortunately, like spam, telemarketing seems to work. There are millions of people out there that buy stuff from telemarketers, making it a profitable business for them.
How profitable? According to an FCC memo, telemarketer sales revenue rose from about $435 billion in 1990 to around $660 billion in 2001.
I hear that our Federal government is considering legislation to solve this problem. I doubt it will be enough. Perhaps I’ll write to my Senator … or better yet, maybe I should just forward her all my telemarketer calls.
So, this past weekend my friend Alison and I went to an SCA event: a Royal University of the Midrealm. I agreed to teach two classes, one on juggling and the other on improvisation.
The juggling class was easy. I can do that in my sleep. In fact, I have done it in my sleep, since I have dreamed I was juggling many times. It was an intermediate class, and I had one person show up. Fortunately, he was at a perfect level, so we had a lot of fun juggling and expanding our skills.
The improv class was the one I was looking forward to the most, and I and the seven others who attended had a blast. I think we got through over 20 warmups, exercises, and games.
I’m still amazed with improv. The secret seems to be: don’t try to be funny, just do something, anything, and the situation and response makes it funny. We all had a fun time, and I loved seeing people I didn’t even know react and play.
I also attended a class on “Airs and Graces” presented by Countess Sir Fern. Lots to think about on how to present a graceful and courtly medieval presence. Now, sometimes I feel as graceful and courtly as Carrot Top, but still, the class gave me lots to think about and work on. Sir Fern was an amazing and fun instructor. She is on my list now of people whose classes I will do my best to attend. Apparently she had an Eleanor of Aquitaine class that day that was also part improv.
Right after the classes Alison and I decided to head on home as the snow was starting to come down thick and heavy. It was a three hour drive out, but it took us two extra hours to get home.
During drives like these I despair that machine vision will ever be good enough to enable cars to drive themselves. At times I could see the road, then later it is covered completely with snow, or with one tire lane clear, or two tire lanes clear. Sometimes, and I didn’t tell Alison this while I was driving, all I could see were the two tree lines on either side of me and I just had to judge that being in the middle was good enough.
The best is when you can find a nice big truck moving at 45 mph. You basically follow the truck for miles and miles as it clears a path for you, and you don’t have to really worry about the road at all.
On the topic of “things you wish you’d see more often,” as we were leaving the site and well on our way to the highway, we saw someone blatantly run a red light. Two seconds a later a cop came by and pulled the driver over. YAY! That never happens!!
Even though it took us over five hours to get home, Alison and I had fun. We listed to three CDs and talked a ton. For those of you who are curious, we listed to Will Smith, Tori Amos, and Blonde. We especially liked the song Mr. Smith wrote for his son, and enjoyed speculating about the sexual content of Ms. Amos’s lyrics.
I hope everyone made it back safely, and didn’t run any red lights.
p.s.
I’m going to post a web link. Now, I don’t usually want to post to places on the internet all the time. That is Patrick’s thing. And I don’t want to include updates on all my friends. That is Shawn’s thing. And I don’t want to not update my page since December 2nd, 1997, as that is Kieran’s thing.
However, I think this is worth looking at, and Patrick isn’t the only person on the internet to post interesting links. Anyway, Larry Miller has written up the best summary I’ve read about the current Bush/Iraq situation, so I thought I’d do what little I can to draw attention to it. It is pro Bush, so be warned.
I had my first root canal yesterday.
I, like 104% of the world, do not like to go to the dentist. I’ve had lots of orthodontia work when I was young, wearing braces for years, having surgery to get rid of an eyetooth, and had to have my palate expanded so I could have a bigger mouth.
I’ve had cavities.
All those experiences were very painful, not fun, and usually were accompanied by a very swollen mouth and bouts of vomiting.
Luckily, thanks to the gods of scientific progress, I am of the firm belief that dentistry has improved a lot in the past two decades, and I’m almost at the point where I can honestly say that I might not be afraid of the dentist anymore.
I had my wisdom teeth out three years ago. I remember my sister getting her wisdom teeth pulled, and recall her being in pain for a week and having an incredibly swollen mouth.
When I had my done, I wasn’t even in much pain, and could eat just fine the next day.
I was terrified to have my root canal done yesterday. A filling broke open and was getting infected, so all that had to be repaired. It was at the point where it hurt all the time, and breathing cool air was a fun experience in raw nerve endings.
But again, like the wisdom teeth, this procedure turned out just fine. The Doctor was amazing. She used gas on me, and needles, but numbed the area so that I actually didn’t feel the needle at all. I was allowed (encouraged, even) to listen to some CDs during the procedure. I had “The Best of Blondie” in there, but at some point I could swear I was hearing Loreena McKennitt.
I even fell asleep at some point.
All in all, there really wasn’t any pain, and the cap is in there nicely. I still have two more procedures to finish off that tooth, and then I have other cavities to take care of, but I’m not dreading that.
The fillings are even porcelain now, not an ugly silver stain my mouth.
Today they called me to see how I was doing, which was an unexpected and pleasant surprise.
The only bad part is that I did throw up again. I didn’t know I was supposed to eat before hand. I’ll know better next time, as I think I have another bad tooth that, while causing no pain, will have to be dealt with in the next couple of years.
Hmmm, excuse me, if you please. I need to go brush my teeth.
I ran across an interesting bit of trivia the other day.
In 1968, it cost $1 to make one transistor. Today, $1 will get you 50 million transistors.
One dollar will also get you 20 minutes of long distance phone calls, just dial 10-10-220 and…arg, what am I saying??
Fifty million transistors, for one buck. It boggles my mind. Gordy Moore made his observation back in 1965: the number of transistors per square inch on integrated circuits will double every year. This rate has slowed a bit. Now, data density has doubled every 18 months – this is the current definition of Moore’s law, and experts, including Gordy himself, expect Moore’s Law to hold for at least twenty more years.
I try to imagine what the world will be like with that much computational power at our fingertips. I work at a high tech company that deals with the bleeding edge of technology, and even with that perspective it is difficult to envision such a future.
With such a logarithmic computational explosion, and the chips themselves getting smaller and smaller, you could have computers in every aspect of your life.
Wait, we already have that. Most watches have a chip in them. I have a Palm Pilot in my pocket, which is a computer. I also have a cell phone – another computer. At home every room in my house has a computer-like chip: alarm clocks, microwaves, VCRs, stereos, remote controls, garage door openers … heck, my car is full of computers, and it doesn’t even have a GPS system installed.
And that is today, 2003. People are talking about putting chips in clothing, for goodness sakes.
Now, there are some advances I am looking forward to. I would love to be able to walk into a clothing store and beam them my measurements from my handheld so I only have to look at clothes that I know fit, and fit perfectly. I’d be able to better shop for online clothes that way too.
I wouldn’t mind chips in my tires to automatically sense tire pressure and wear.
While the computerized refrigerator hasn’t caught on yet, Elaine I have the next best thing. Whenever we are running low on something we write down in our handhelds so we don’t forget to get it when we go shopping (and we email each other the lists). We aren’t consistent in doing that, and a processor tied to tracking our food consumption would really help us out a lot, even if it didn’t do the shopping for us.
At Sam’s Club, people use computer handhelds to tally your purchases while you are waiting in line before you reach the cashier, thus speeding up the whole process.
Heck, if you are making your bridal registry, they now give you handheld to automatically scan in items to make your own list!
But I’m still talking about what we have today, not what we will have in the future.
So, I’ll make a prediction. In ten years, while we won’t have full artificial intelligence, we will all have access to Cognitive Intelligence Aids. Oh, CIA, I like that!
These CIAs will have enough smarts to help us in our day to day activities. Some examples:
· When you use MapQuest, you will actually get a path from start to finish that makes sense, is easy to follow, and automatically updates if you get lost or there is a traffic jam.
· When you are using a word processing document, the commands will do what you want, and not exactly what you don’t want (ex: ever cut and paste from one document to another and the font and style completely change by themselves?).
· Real spam filters that are attuned to your tastes and desires.
· A search engine that understands the context of what you are searching for, and not just a string of key words.
· Updates to help you plan your day – like alarm clocks that wake you early when there was a snow storm to give you extra time to get to work, or movie theater updates that let you know that the show you wanted to see is sold out and then gets you tickets for the next show while also getting you reservations at a coffee shop.
· Constant patient monitoring, so I could really tell what foods increase my cholesterol, or how efficient my workout is.
While all of these are possible now, they aren’t quite practical. The cognitive agents aren’t that developed, and we really don’t have the computational power or bandwidth (not to mention the computer security) available.
I don’t really need head mounted displays, or total immersive environments with force feedback. I really want systems that aid us, and don’t control us, or flood us with information that we don’t need.
[Today we have a guest editorial by Natalie Baird]
“MY GIFT IS MY SO-O-ONG, and this one’s for you…”
Ewan McGregor was singing to me. Or at least I was fantasizing that he was singing to me. In reality I was driving to work listening to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack.
Driving. Only driving. Not talking on my cell phone. Not twiddling the radio dials. Just staring straight in front of me, my eyes on the road, and both hands on the wheel. A model driver, as illustrated in any driver’s training class. Just me and Ewan, driving down Dixboro towards Ann Arbor.
So it was no small shock when a large doe suddenly materialized in front of my car. I use the word “materialize”, for that is about the best word I can think of. One minute there was empty road in front of me. The next instant, there was a LARGE ANIMAL. It all happened so fast, I didn’t even have time to register what it was that I was hitting. I thought for half a second that it might be a large dog.
I only really remember bits and pieces. I remember I saw things flying. Pieces of deer, or pieces of car? I thought dimly.
My car was still running, so I was able to pull of the road. I got out and took a look at what was left of the front of my car. Not a pretty sight. The front end had crumpled; exactly as the Saturn engineers designed it to do. Fortunately, the deer had hit high enough that the air bag sensor in the bumper did not deploy. Probably a good thing, considering my height, it might have done me some harm. As it was, I, like Mr. Bond’s drink of choice, was merely, “shaken, not stirred.”
A lady, who had been driving right behind me, pulled over to make sure I was okay. I assured her I was, but was obviously dazed and confused, and my scrambled brain still had not figured out what I had hit. The lady pointed the deer out to me. “Yes, I have a cell phone… Yes, I’ll call someone”, I told her. She drove off, satisfied that she was not needed.
Who do I call? I have, or I suppose I should say “had”, never been in an accident before in my life. Not even a fender bender. What to do? I know! I’ll call Tim (my husband – for those of you who don’t know me). He’ll know what to do. So I called him, but no answer. Left a message. Hmmm.
I walked across the street to where the deer was lying in a ditch. It wasn’t moving. Good, I thought, at least it died quickly. Wait a second…. it’s still breathing. Well, gasping is more like it. It was intact, which is about as much as I can say for it. Its legs were out at odd angles, and its tongue was sticking out. It was breathing with difficulty. It was in one piece at least.
As I stood there staring down, I was surprised at how NOT upset I was. I mean, being such an animal lover, you’d think I would be torn up inside, completely wracked with guilt at killing such a beautiful creature. But instead, I was thinking, “stupid deer! This is your fault!” At the same time, I was wondering how best to put her out of her misery. Would the Police officer shoot her? Slit her throat? As I pondering these things, a pick up truck pulled up. The driver got out, and was very solicitous. Was I okay? Did I have a cell phone? Did I need anything? I told him I had a cell phone and was going to call someone, but I wasn’t sure who to call.
The man gave me the phone # for the Washtenaw County Sherriff’s office, which for some odd reason he had memorized (Get the feeling he’s been in a situation like this before?). I suddenly realized that I could not articulate where I was located. I knew I was on Dixboro, but that was about it. He told me “Just tell them you are on Dixboro, south of Joy road, just before the S-curves.” After arming me with these instructions, the gentleman then turned to more delicate matters.
He shuffles his feet, “Did you, uh, want the deer?” he asked, hopefully. I assured him that I had not intention of laying claim to my kill. His eyes lit up. “Oh, okay. I’ll be back in a little bit.” He jumped back in his truck, and was gone in a flash.
Possessing a photographic memory, I had memorized the phone # he gave me, but decided to call 911 anyway, figuring I would get a faster response. The man I spoke to was very nice. And for some reason, I am one of those people who go in to comedy mode during tragedies.
“What direction were you going, Ma’am?”
“I was going south, but the deer was going east”.
“What color is your car, ma’am?”
“Well, it’s supposed to be plum, but it’s really dirty right now…”
“(mumbles while typing) Car Color: Muddy”
I gave him my cell phone number, and he told me he would contact the police, who would come straight out.
By now, the deer was obviously dead. I can only imagine the internal damage it must have had. At least it seemed to go pretty quickly, relatively speaking.
I called work to explain what had happened. I had a meeting at 10:00 am, so I asked to be transferred to the committee chairman to let him know I wouldn’t be there. Now I should probably note that for various reasons (illness, doctor’s appointments, etc.) I have not attended one of Glenn’s meetings in three weeks. His reaction? “Geez, every week it’s a new excuse…” Did I mention Glenn has a similar sense of humor to mine?
As I waited for the police to arrive, I set about picking up the pieces of my car strewn across the road. I’d hate to add littering to my list of sins, on top of murder. It being a fairly deserted road, this task was accomplished quickly. Lacking a more appropriate receptacle, I just tossed the bits into the back seat of my car.
I finally get hold of Tim. He is stuck at work, but will come ASAP. “What will the officer need from me?” I wondered. Happily, I am able to quickly locate my registration, proof of insurance, AAA card, and driver’s license in short order. As I wait, no fewer than 6 pick up trucks stop, including a sheriff’s deputy. The routine is the same every time. Based on the behavior of these gentlemen, I have formulated a theory that somewhere there exists a book on protocol, an ethics guide, if you like, for this very situation. Below is a synopsis:
Red Necks Guide to Road Kill Appropriation
1. Verify that the driver is uninjured.
2. Offer to call police/fire/ambulance/wrecker on your cell phone if they don’t have one.
3. Verify that appropriate emergency vehicles are on their way.
4. After steps 1 to 3 are completed, ask driver if they intend to take meat for personal use.
5. If answer is no, ask driver if you can have it.
a. Note: If another person has already “claimed” the meat, you must honor that claim. This does not, or course, preclude you from driving by a little later to see if it is still there. If the animal is not claimed by the time police and wrecker leave, open season!
6. Wait until police arrive, or use this valuable time to go pick up your buddy, girlfriend, brother-in-law, etc. to help get the animal’s remains into your pick up truck.
7. Wait for cops to arrive, and then get slip from police indicating that the animal was killed by a car so you have documentation that you are not a poacher.
8. Load animal into bed of truck, and take it home.
9. Prepare to taste and enjoy.
Mr. Sheriff arrives and begins his investigation of the crime scene.
“Were you wearing your seatbelt?”
“Yes, sir”
“Have you been drinking today?”
“No (But I think it’s time to start),” I thought to myself, since Mr. Sheriff did not appear to have a sense of humor.
Mr. Sheriff offers to call a wrecker for me, which I am more than happy to let him do. While he is calling the wrecker. Mr. Pickup (the first one), now with a buddy, arrives to take the deer carcass. He waves to Mr. Sheriff. They obviously know each other and appear to be on friendly terms. Digression: Do these people drive around all day looking for fresh kills? I could tell from the looks on the guys’ faces that they couldn’t believe their luck.
Mr. Sheriff processes Mr. Pickup’s paperwork first (how’d he get to be first priority?). Slip in hand, he and his buddy load Ms. Doe into the pickup, and with a cheerful wave in my direction, they drive away.
The wrecker shows up. “Looks like a nice big Doe did that,” the driver comments motioning toward my car while simultaneously smacking his lips. “Yup,” I replied. He looks around expectantly. “Too late,” I inform him, “Someone already took it away”.
I get my report number from the Sheriff, hop into the truck with Mr. Wrecker, and off we go. Affronted at missing a chance at the deer, he quizzes me on the drive back to South Lyon, presumably to verify for himself that the deer absconder adhered to the “Road Kill Rules” I listed above. “Did they wait for the sheriff, or did they just take it?” I assured him they waited. He concludes his line of questioning with: “I’m surprised the SOB’s didn’t just gut it there in the street.” (Hmm, somebody sure is jealous!). The next thing he wanted to determine was whether his passenger was a city girl, or country girl.
“Ever eat venison?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like it?”
“If it’s prepared properly, I do, though I had some bad venison before….”
We pass the remainder of the trip discussing the various ways to prepare venison a la “Forrest Gump”. “You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, sauté it. There’s uh, deer kabobs, deer creole, deer gumbo….”
The collision shop he takes me to is just six blocks from my house. They are all very nice. They pay the wrecker guy, and explain to me that they’ll include his fee in their claim to State Farm. They should know by today or tomorrow whether the car will be totaled or repaired. Not to self: Figure out alternative transportation to work for next week.
They offer me a ride home, but to be honest, there was so much adrenaline pumping through my body, my brain kept telling my limbs they had to keep moving, so I decided to walk home. Hey, it was only 6 city blocks. Tim’s boss sent him home to check on me. Mr. Boss was apparently not impressed with my decision to walk home.
So it looks like Tim and I get to spend Valentine’s Day together. AWWW, how sweet. The irony is that lots of people want to spend today in the same state I now find myself in. Heart beating fast, limbs shaking, lightheaded etc. These are, after all, symptoms of love, just as much as symptoms of shock.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Ms. Doe.
It is around 11:10 PM, I’m in the den, catching up on email and watching the Daily Show. Marcus is on my lap giving his opinion on Jon Stewart’s commentary on world events (apparently by drooling a lot - Marcus was drooling, not Mr. Stewart). All was right with the world.
Then the power went out.
Fortunately, before you can say, “Where did I put that flashlight?” the power went back on. I turned the television and computer back on, reconnected to my email, and also was instant messaging with a friend.
We were discussing the SCA, a generous Prince and Princess, hoods, and money, when we got to a very important point. I needed to articulate to her that I was very concerned that …
Then the power went out again.
Hmmm. I didn’t notice it before, but the wind outside really does sound like it is going 40 miles per hour.
Almost immediately, the power went back on. By that time, I was already on phone with my friend finishing my thought. I have so very few thoughts that it seems a shame to waste them. She wasn’t having power outages, and kindly offered a place to stay if it continued.
That was a generous offer, since now we not only have two terribly neurotic cats, we also have a newborn who likes to cry every time he has a bowel movement.
At least this time I was smart. I made sure I had a flashlight with me. I immediately threw it away and found a working flashlight, with new batteries.
By this time, it was around 11:30 PM, and Marcus was reminding me in his pleasant and upbeat way that he would like some food please. Oh, yes, and that he was also passing gas. I changed him, fed him while watching Leno, and we were doing pretty well. Maybe I could have a nice warm bagel when Marcus was done feeding.
Then the power went out again.
I sat there, feeding Marcus, who was all happy even while passing gas, and waited for the power to go back on.
Ten minutes later, I was still powerless. There were lights across the street on, and, from what I could tell, around the corner. But not here.
That was really odd.
At this point, lots of thoughts went through my head, and they had nothing to do with hoods.
• How long without power can we stay here until it is too cold to live?
• Can I change a diaper in the dark?
• Even though Elaine and I can handle it a bit cold, what about Marcus?
• The power hasn’t come back on yet.
• When do we decide to call some family or friends and ask to stay with them?
• If we leave the house, how much stuff will we need to take with us? We’ve never tried to move both cats to someone else’s place for an extended stay.
• Wait, the garage door opener runs on electricity.
• The power still isn’t back on.
• How do you catch two cats while holding a flashlight in your hands?
• Could our fireplace heat the house until the power comes back on?
• When will the power come back on?
Ah, I knew how to get the answer to that last question. I found the number of our gas company (which is also our electric company, and I’m not sure who made that brilliant decision) and picked up the phone to call them.
Nice. The cordless phone system we bought needs power to work. No problem, I have my cell Cyberphone (that is, a phone from Cybernet, the company I work for, the place which also has a Cybervan and a Cyberteria). I call DTE Energy, whose number and calling options I have memorized now, thank you very much, and get a response that I like.
The recording (great customer service there!) said that they knew about the problem and that it would be repaired in about five hours. These five hours were an estimate, and it could be repaired before or after that time. At least that nailed it down and the recording was confident!
Marcus was asleep in my arms, which is always a good thing. With nothing else I could do, I figured I may as well go to bed.
I told Elaine the wonderful news. We decided to wait it out for the five hours. If it got too cold, I’d use the fireplace and we’d all move downstairs. We put Marcus between us, under some of the covers, and he seemed nice and happy.
It was getting colder. I could tell because the cats visited us earlier than usual and were extra snuggly. I have to admit, I find it very cute when Pythag sniffs at Marcus.
About an hour later I woke up, and it was nice and warm! All five heat vents in our room were blowing comfortable warm air. All the lights were on, except where Elaine was sleeping – her head was still in shadow. There was now an extra closet on my side of the bed, which very conveniently also had its own heat vent. For some reason I couldn’t focus on any of the clocks, and that concerned me so much that I woke up again.
It was still cold, we still had no power, and I still wasn’t happy. Marcus was asleep and making odd gurgling noises. Both cats where on Elaine and snuggling happily. It was definitely colder.
I went downstairs and called DTE Energy again. According to our battery powered clocks it was around 2 AM. DTE said that the repairs would be completed in 3 hours, maybe sooner, maybe later, but the recording appreciates me as a customer. I got such a nice cold glow from that. Oh, for those keeping score, it was now 65 degrees in the house. Not too bad, actually.
I went back to bed, and snuggle a bit with Marcus to keep him warm. I could see him quite well because most of the street lights were still on, and it was obvious that the neighbors I could see still had power.
While sleep came easily, I was quite restless. I woke up about a half hour later. Pythag was on me, keeping my legs nice and warm. I really needed to get to work, but fortunately I was already dressed and had showered. Obviously there was no hot water, but my hair was dry and it wasn’t so bad. I started the car and tried to open the garage door, but the power was still out and I couldn’t figure out how to open the door while the car filled the garage with carbon monoxide. That woke me up quickly.
Pythag was on me, but it was colder outside of the covers. Still no power. I trundled downstairs (60 degrees), it was a bit after 3 AM, and called DTE Energy. I learned their clocks were also working quite well as repairs would take place in about two hours, plus or minus several days.
Some quick math – I like to take any opportunity to do math, almost as often as Saddam likes to take any opportunity to add conditions to U.N. inspections – and I calculated that Marcus hasn’t eaten for three and a half hours, and so he’ll be hungry soon.
Time for me to be a man and make fire for my family. I bundled up and went out into the garage, then came quickly back in for the flashlight. I brought in a couple of loads of wood, and also checked out the garage door opener. There was a nice big cord at the top of the door that, if you pulled, would either release the door so I could open it by hand, or activate the floatation device. I’d worry about that later.
We had used the fireplace once before, a couple of weeks ago for Buffy night, so I knew that it worked. It didn’t seem to kick out that much heat, but right now anything was better nothing. I have to say I easily started the fire. That artificial starter log caught fire quite quickly without any fuss. I’m such a manly man.
After I added some wood, Arbeau came downstairs to lay in front of the fire. Pythag was no where to be found. I’d seen him earlier, and was surprised he wasn’t investigating the wood.
Oh, right. I open the door to the garage and he waltzes back in, giving me a look of, “Yup, everything is fine in there.” Silly cat.
I sat with the cats in front of the fire. I read a book (“The Best Military Science Fiction of the 20th Century” – a gift from Parsla) and let the fire get going really good. The couch close by could feel the heat from the fire, but that was about it.
Only one course of action: more wood! I packed that sucker tight! By this time Elaine had woken up and brought Marcus down with her to the family room to join all her other guys. Marcus was really well behaved all night. Maybe it was the cold or something, but he slept nicely, fed well, and was really easy to take care of.
Throughout the night I think I made four more trips to the garage for wood. It got down to around 55 degrees, though it was pretty comfortable in about half of the family room. The cats were loving it, sprawled out exposing their bellies to the fire.
And I learned one thing that night, watching my wife cradling our son, with the cats all around us in a little cozy corner of our house: I really miss our old wood burning stove.
In our old house we had one of those – it jutted out to the center of the living room, and it kicked out an incredible amount of heat. For half the wood I was using in this fireplace, that wood burning stove would have had the whole room and then some at about 90 degrees or more. When the heat is working, a fireplace is fine. But if you want to really heat a house without power (and use it to cook can goods as my friend Joe showed me), nothing beats a wood burning stove.
I did my best to make the fireplace work. Did you know that the paint around the fireplace starts to peal if you have too much heat coming out of it? One half of the outside is now a nice silver color. Some of the chrome is now a different color. That probably isn’t good.
I called DTE Entropy at 5:15 AM, and got a new message! They had no estimate as to when the repairs would take place. I see. If I pressed 0 I could speak to a representative. The wait was 23 minutes. I decided to call back later.
At 6:10 AM the wait was 46 minutes.
At 7:15 AM the wait was 138 minutes.
Their regular hours of operation start at 8 AM, so I decided to just wait until then to make a decision. We still had a lot of wood. Not enough for another night, but easily enough to go to mid afternoon if I didn’t keep trying to achieve critical mass.
I dozed off, but fortunately when I woke up we had power again. I was sprawled out on the loveseat, and all the lights were on in the house. The fire was out, and it was still quite cold. Still, the ceiling was glowing, and that was good enough for me. No one else seemed to be in the house, and why was it so cold?
Aw heck.
I woke up. It was 8:10 AM. I added wood to the fire. Elaine, Marcus, Pythag, and Arbeau were doing well. Right away I got someone at DTE…that 138 minutes sure does fly. They were very friendly, and told us that there was a work crew out by our area. A transformer at one of the schools went down, and affected a number of houses (but not all) in my neighborhood. She guessed that it would be at most a couple of hours and then we’d have the power back on.
I called into work. I had only gotten a couple of hours of sleep, there was no way I’d be functional today.
DTE was pretty good. The power was back on before 10 AM! For real this time, though I checked things out to make sure I was still in dream world. Elaine had gotten quite a bit of sleep, so after making sure that the heater was indeed functioning again, I went upstairs to bed and slept until 3 PM.
Elaine is now in bad (it is 6:30 PM), I have Marcus who is staring at the wall in rapt fascination, and Pythag keeps visiting (and he just head-butted Marcus!).
I do wonder, though, how things would have turned out if we lost power for several days. Preparing to moving two cats and a baby does not seem like a fun way to spend three hours, and even when it is not warm, I far prefer being in my own home than imposing on my friends and family. I’m quite glad they are there for me though!!
I never did get that bagel.
I turned 36 today.
Yes, Mom, you have a son who is 36 years old.
Anyway, where was I? Memory is one of the first things to go.
Right, I’m 36. I’ve almost lived one third of my life.
It is interesting to think about it that way (or even a more realistic one half of my life). In 36 years I have done a lot.
In a way, that means that, if I wanted to, I could start all over and be somewhere else in another 36 years (somewhere good, not five feet under the ground).
In those 36 years I spent 24 of them in school. I could probably skip high school and most of college, so given 10 years of focus schooling I could probably be a doctor or lawyer if I wanted. Or I could do more mathematics, but really focus on that, and not on engineering.
I suppose there are some things I could never do, given another 36 years. These last 36 have shown that I have very little talent for music. So being a Jazz musician is out. I can’t draw a straight line, so I doubt I’d be an artist. Let’s not even imagine me trying out for Stomp.
Back in high school and college I did a bit of acting. I even had the lead in one show in college, during the summer down cycle, where I juggled and wore a fig leaf. I always wanted to act, or do comedy, which is why I’m making the investment now to learn and practice Improv. Who knows where that will lead me 36 years from now.
One of my biggest fears while growing up was that I would spend my life alone. I have to say I am very blessed. Not only do I have the most beautiful wife in the world, but also I have a son, a family. I can’t wrap my mind around that. We have a family, and it isn’t just our two wonderful kitties. Now, if only my wife weren’t so bloody intelligent and always right, home life would be perfect!
I also have a ton of friends. I am still friends with people I grew up with in high school and undergrad. While they are all over the country, thanks to the Internet I’m in contact with them almost every day. Many of them are reading this web page right now.
Closer to home I have many good friends too, people I can count on, who can count on me, who are a part of my life in more ways than I can articulate. I am indeed lucky.
My job is quite a surprise to me. When I started graduate school, I never expected I’d end up as an executive, running millions of dollars in projects that effect our life in the U.S. of A. and also help out our military. I enjoy being a manager. I have the opportunity and ability to make it so others can get work done, release completed systems, and simultaneously enjoy their work and grow. And they actually pay me to do this!
During these first 36 years I’ve traveled quite a bit. I’ve been all over the continental U.S. I’ve been to Guam to install systems at a Navy Base. I’ve snorkeled in Hawaii. I’ve drifted down the Rhine river in Germany. I’ve stood in St. Peter’s Basilica and seen what men have wrought for God. I’ve been to the real Moulin Rouge, and saw so many breasts there that I started to get bored by it. I’ve stood on and in an aircraft carrier (the Enterprise), Cruisers, and several submarines. I’ve been to Warwick Castle, and got to really imagine there how hard it would be to take such a place by medieval force of arms.
I’ve probably read over 2,000 books.
I got to see the pictures of Uranus as Voyager II flew by, from a direct feed that was simultaneously going to NASA with a friend at the Franklin Institute. We stayed up all night for that.
I worked for the NSA for three six month tours, working on many exciting and creative projects.
I’ve built robots and talked with highly intelligent people who are leaders in their fields. I’ve also taught science math to graduate students, college students, and to kids of almost every age.
I have even put on a recreation of medieval armor and fought with sword and shield in battles containing over one thousand people, and have led dozens of fools in colorful parades.
I got to see my son being born.
The best part of it all, though, is that I’ve had family and friends to share all of my experiences with. I can’t imagine living in isolation. I am very grateful to all the people I have known and will know, as I get to share in all of their adventures too.
I have loved my first 36 years. I have never felt the need to lie about my age. I have earned all of those years, through successes and failures, and I cherish them all.
These next 36 will be a totally new adventure for me, in ways I can’t even being to predict. It will be exciting, terrifying, thrilling, boring, meaningful, ephemeral, peaceful, repetitive, and unique. There is no way I can prepare for all this.
Then again, I don’t have to. I have my family and friends with me.
Bring it on.
Yup, that is me, with a crazed look and no pupils, doing my impression of a 'crooked' campy Batman villian out to take over the world with his Coke can crushing assault robot!
When I was growing up, my parents looked out for me.
They made sure that I wore a seat belt when riding in a car. They taught me how to use a gas oven. They showed me where the dangerous cleaning chemicals were, and set down strict rules about touching them.
They did not, however, discourage me from exploring the world, learning what I could and could not do, and taking risks.
I distinctly remember coming home one day, crying my eyes out because I had crashed my bike. I had set up a ramp so I could jump my bike higher and higher. I came down wrong, almost destroyed the bike, and was bloody and bruised in many places.
My parents did not take my bike away. They did not forbid me or my sister from ever riding a bike again just because it I got hurt. They also did not sue all bicycle makers, the city, and our Senator just because I got hurt by acting like an idiot with their product.
Growing up is all about learning what is possible and what isn’t. It is about testing boundaries, figuring out what you can do, getting hurt, failing, and then using that experience to try again. Yes, we can and should learn to avoid deadly risks, but we can’t plan for everything.
In order to learn and grow, you have to try something new, something different, and see where that takes you.
We also take risks everyday, with our lives, in order to live them the way we do.
Imagine if we shut down all the interstates every time we had a car accident?
Imagine if we stranded millions of airline travelers because of one plane crash?
People die from using their household appliances incorrectly, yet we don’t stop manufacturing them.
And these are people, every day people, who expect to live safe lives, yet take risks to live their lives they way they want to. We accept a certain amount of regulations to insure some level of safety (we have traffic lights, for example), but we don’t give up systems and luxuries just because they can hurt or even kill us (we don’t all use highly trained and highly paid drivers to keep us perfectly safe). We make products safer, but it is impossible make everything risk free. Right now you can drop your computer on your foot, and no amount of regulation can stop that.
We accept every day risk as a part of our ordinary lives.
Yet there are also people in this world, extraordinary people, who take risks to push the bounds of understanding far beyond what just you and I do.
There are doctors who work with dangerous viruses, risking their life so they can find a cure.
Our military works with dangerous weapons, so they can protect us and defend our liberties.
And we have Astronauts, who risk their lives to push back what is unknown. They accept that risk. They know it is there. They expect death to appear far to often.
Being human means that we have to live our lives. A full, rich, and dangerous life, not one that is sanitized and padded and passionless.
That is the price for growing up.
Growing up is painful at times.
But if we don’t take risks, why bother living at all?