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June 30, 2005
Wasn't it Paul Stanley who said ...
Hot, hot ... hotter than hell ...
The AC in the minivan bit the dust a couple of weeks ago. And, in all honesty, I helped it along by trying to fix it.
My brother, Jim, has years of experience with HVAC so I gave him a call and he was kind enough to politely point out the mistake I made. When I went to recharge the AC I used three cans of stuff that not only recharges but may stop small leaks. He said I should have used one can of the stop-leak stuff ... tops ... and that I'd probably clogged up a few passageways that need to be free flowing. (I know not to put too much stop leak in a radiator. And I'd wondered about the AC ... but not enough to call my brother first. Or even read the instructions.)
Lately I've been driving around with the window down and I've been doing OK. And, as recently as Monday I'd noticed that central Ohio hasn't been as humid as it typically is. I thought I might make it all summer AC-free.
Tuesday we had a very impressive thunderstorm. It was the type of storm that should really happen at night so the lightening can be enjoyed more. Water was coming down in sheets and caused enough flooding that one of the major nearby roads had to be closed for 6 hours.
Until this rainstorm we'd been experiencing a mini-drought, which explained the not-so-bad humidity. So, on Monday it was 92 with bearable humidity (I really wish I'd checked the humidity then.)
Today it was 92F with 94% humidity. That is so humid that just typing about it makes my fingertips sweat.
Today I had to leave work at 11 a.m. to make a 45-minute drive to pick up the kids. I decided I'd call my brother again to let him know what I thought I'd found with respect to my AC. He suggested that the part I thought I'd found was really something else. Which makes sense, as the part I found (that probably doesn't need replaced) was very easy to get to while the part that needs to be replaced/fixed is probably hidden someplace that will require disassembling the minivan down to the chassis.
As we were talking I had the window up. Sweat was streaming down my face and, aside from the nostalgia aspect of the whole experience (it reminded me of my 1977 VW Rabbit that not only didn't have AC but had a heater problem that kept the heater from ever turning off) I was very uncomfortable.
After a few minutes of chatting I told Jim I was going to have to roll a window down to cool off and that I would then be unable to hear him, but I wanted to know what I should do next:
"You really need to take it someplace that has the right tools and knows what they're doing," was his advice.
Posted by delmer at 4:05 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 29, 2005
More on Creeking
Flashing back just a day or two ago takes you an entry about the trip the boys and I took to the creek while visiting Franklin, Ohio.
This entry will end that series of entries -- and will mostly be photos. I like to finish the stories of one holiday before another holiday arrives and it seems I'm running out of time. (Memorial Day would be the past holiday, Independence Day is the upcoming holiday. I mention this not so much for the International audience but for the Americans reading this; we're not very good at keeping our holidays straight, though we're very good at recognizing the fact that the beer seems colder on Independence Day -- at least in hot-as-hell-and-humid-to-boot central Ohio.)
To recap, this is, of course, the creek. To the left is an area that seemed pretty deep when I was 8 and 10. To the right is a little island that we'd sometimes take a hibachi to and cook burgers and dogs. You go to this portion of the creek by walking down to the left of the horseshoe pits at Community Park; there was sort of a gravel road leading down.
When the boys and I arrived at the creek they asked if they could wade. I told them to go ahead and that I wasn't worried about them getting their feet wet. Boys are boys and have a hard time staying out of the water.
Here you see the boys digging in the sand. I'm standing on the bank, 8 to 10 feet above them, and shooting down on them.
At this part of the creek a person has to climb down over jagged chunks of concrete used as rip rap; it is a treacherous climb which causes no end of worry for a father watching. However, it is the most passable path and a slip is likely to produce only a skinned knee.
The most passable path. You know what that means. The boys had little interest in taking that route. The other portions of the bank that allowed them to climb down and dig were far more treacherous -- I'm fairly certain I saw the bones of one of Edmund Hillary's Sherpas jutting out between the rocks (I could make out on his clothing, "I lugged Ed Hillary up Mt. Everest and all I got was this lousy t-shirt"). I had to remind the boys several times that they could use only the father-approved passage down to dig. (At one point Haydn would distract me by wading out into the water and complaining that he was stepping on something troubling. As I tried to help him find a less-gooey path to the shore I heard the slow thump ... thump ... thump ... of something moderately large and not-so-round rolling down a hill. I cast my eyes over the side of my perch and saw Sam looking up at me. "I thought ..." he started. I told him I knew what he thought and that I'd warned the boys that the concrete pieces were not solid in the ground. He was redirected to the safer passageway ... a mere 5 feet to the right of where he was standing.)
The boys spied something interesting on the far bank -- a groundhog -- and asked if they could wade across. Well, as I've said before, I understand the allure of a body of water and told the boys I didn't really mind if they got wet up to their knees. Boys will be boys.
More wading ... why the sock is off, I don't know ... though it does explain the balled-up sock I keep stumbling across in the minivan.
Wading wading wading digging digging digging climbing climbing climbing. As exciting as this sounds sometimes it still isn't enough. The boys really really really (That would be three reallys. Three reallys is to really what triple-dog is to dare. Hmmm, see this for another triple-dog favorite.)
Where were we? Ahh. The boys really really really wanted to wade just a little deeper. Well, I understand the allure of a body of water. Boys will be boys.
They are a handsome lot ...
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June 28, 2005
MIT Blog Survey
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June 26, 2005
I'm Gellin'
I know it's spelled gel, but when you see gellin' aren't you tempted to use a hard 'g' as in Gail?
Anyway, I purchased some of Dr. Scholl's Massaging Gel insoles. If I'd only gone to that link before buying the insoles I would have saved two bucks.
The insoles are good for feet up to size 13, which is part of the reason I purchased them. I was also looking at Dr. Scholl's® Memory Fit Customizing Insoles, which fit feet up to size 12; or so I thought -- the info at that link says size 13. Thirteen would make more sense, but I'd swear it said 12 at the store.
"Twelve or thirteen," you say, "would one size really make that much difference?"
Probably not. But I wear size 14 and I was afraid two sizes would. I got the gel insoles, in part, because they were closer to my hoof size.
I put the insoles in yesterday and my feet immediately felt a little better. And I felt a little taller. And just a tad sexier.
Tonight I took a six-mile stroll. Usually, at the end of a trek like this I have aching feet. Tonight at the end of six miles I had, well, aching feet. I will say the aching may have started later in the stroll than it normally does. (Again, may have started later. This was not a very scientific experiment. There was no government funding. There were no coupons used.)
Not only did I have aching feet, but the insoles are just thick enough that they push the top part of my right foot, near my big toe, into an imperfection on the inside of my shoe. It isn't anything I noticed walking to and from the car, but after about two miles it was pretty noticeable.
Generally speaking my feet feel better. And if you can make something that big feel even just a little better you've accomplished something. I can't blame the insoles for imperfections on the insides of my shoes.
Ache-free feet after six miles might be asking a bit too much for $13.00 insoles. Even Massaging Gel insoles.
Posted by delmer at 10:21 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Wading in the Creek: The movie
As you may recall, this past Memorial Day the boys and I went to Community Park in Franklin, Ohio. While there we spent a little bit of time in the Creek.
I've been sort of slow getting things to the blog that I'd meant to put up weeks ago. What can I say, the days are long and I like to be out in the sunshine.
Anyway, here's a movie of the boys wading. You'll need QuickTime installed -- I recommend QuickTime Alternative.
Posted by delmer at 12:03 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 25, 2005
Home Shopping
Today the bodies of three New Jersey boys were found and six American were slain in Iraq.
How do I know? I was watching one of the home shopping networks.
I was flipping by and they had an Internet-enabled Fossil watch for sale. They had a close-up on the watch and one of the talking heads was demonstrating the sports, weather and news feeds you could get on the thing. While still in close-up and stopped on news feed the headlines, "Bodies of 3 NJ boys found," and "Six Americans Slain in Iraq" popped up on the watch.
You're never more than a button press away from instant depression.
This would be funny if it weren't so sad.
Posted by delmer at 10:50 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 23, 2005
Tag ... I'm it.
As if that phrase hasn't been used on the Internet thousands of times. Well, people, I can't always be original -- if it's any consolation I wrote a very original, entertaining and brusque (per one of my British coworkers) memo today. I may be tapped out when it comes to original thoughts this evening.
So it's good that Dave at Blogography has given me something to write about.
And the tag is:
List five things you enjoy, even when no one around you wants to go out and play. What lowers your stress/blood pressure/anxiety level? Make a list, post it to your journal, and then tag five friends and ask them to post it to theirs:
(So. Things I do solo that I enjoy. That I won't mind my mother reading about ...)
1. I take long walks and listen to either Car Talk or Wait Wait Don't Tell Me. I use RealAudio Wave Recorder to record the audio off the web to my PC, then I convert it to .mp3 format, and upload it to my MP3 player.
2. I sit in Donato's or Taco Bell or Burger King or Mel's Diner and eat an individual chicken vegetable medley pizza or chicken soft tacos, or grilled chicken salad, or flaming hot chili and drink Diet Pepsi and read books from my PDA.
3. I enjoy reading other people's blogs to see what's going on elsewhere in the world. I'm not much on reading political blogs as a rule; the whole point of reading them is to chill out a bit; not get worked up.
4. Television: Sitcoms, Lost and Alias. I have no problem with extremely average guys being married to women who are way out of their league: Jamie Gertz, Courtney Thorne-Smith, Kimberly Williams-Paisley (her real-life hubby married up), Leah Remini, Patricia Heaton, and Doris Roberts.
Well, it is more honest to say that I just like to laugh. I'm watching Coach reruns as I type this.
Lost is gripping. As for Alias, well, Jennifer Garner is cute, she kicks butt, and she knows how to handle a gun.
5. Movies: I'm not above going to a movie by myself. Some people think it's odd to do that, I'm sure. Once I ran into a buddy and his wife as they were going in to see something and he asked me to join them. It was only later that I realized he felt sorry for me (I asked him about this at work the next Monday and he admitted as much.) When you are at the movie alone you get all the Milk Duds.
Tag five friends ... based on the stats page, there are a more than five people who stop by on a regular basis. Trouble is I'm not sure who they are and I suspect several of them might be members of the Wells family and not big bloggers.
These are three folks I can identify as bloggers some-time readers of this blog:
Kazza, The Blank One
Ben of Ben's Blab
Steve at Whatiz
Leaving me with two Wildcard Entries.
Update:: It looks like Ben was tagged before I got to him ... leaving me with three Wildcard Entries.
Posted by delmer at 10:44 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
June 22, 2005
Inspiration strikes when it strikes
This morning I got a call from one of the engineers. He and another engineer had received new workstations last week and they were both having trouble with ViewPort; they were unable to do searches.
The engineer that called -- it was Mike for those of you who are regular readers -- said he'd give ViewPort a shot on a third engineer's PC ... a PC that was running Windows 2000; the new PCs are running XP Pro.
ViewPort ran on 2000 leaving Mike to wonder if it wasn't an XP problem. He asked that I give him a call if a solution came to me.
An hour or so later I was in the Men's Room um, uh, counting tiles above the urinal and generally admiring the fixtures when the solution to the ViewPort problem flashed into my mind and a shiver ran down my back.
The shiver is not an uncommon occurrence when I'm counting tiles -- solutions to IT problems are less common.
Mike needed to create a temp directory off the root of his C drive.
I was so excited that I almost forgot to wash my hands.
Posted by delmer at 11:26 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
June 20, 2005
Barn Raising
This past weekend I went to beautiful Franklin, Ohio to spend some time with mom and dad (Granny and Big D to my boys).
Dad is putting up a small barn or a large shed -- whatever you want to call it. It's 12' by 20' and has a loft in it. The picture with this entry is not a picture of Dad's building -- it's a picture I found on the web of a barn built from the same plans Dad is using. Big D's building is the same size but it has an extra door and is missing the lower side windows.
Dad's barn is red; Sammy Hagar would approve.
The barn is about 14 feet tall. My dad will be 70 in December; a very healthy and spry 70. These numbers are important to know because at one point Big D was sitting on top of the building hammering on the last bit of sheeting.
Other old men involved in the building were my Uncle Don and my Uncle Teddy. Don is 70 and about 6'7" tall; he plays on some sort of traveling basketball team for seniors.
Teddy is 65 and knows he smokes too much. He is a very good carpenter. Big D and Don are good, themselves, but Teddy has had more experience.
I am a horrible carpenter but have decent lifting skills and passable walking skills. I also know the names of some of the more common tools but have trouble when names are given to items that I call something else. For example, I think a step ladder is something you might find in a kitchen. A small ladder -- or just plain ladder -- is about 5, maybe 6, feet tall. Then you have extension ladders and the big wooden ladder. Sometimes someone would refer to the ladder as a step ladder causing him to say, "No, the step ladder" when I'd bring him the ladder you might find in my kitchen. (I won't name names, but he is a very good carpenter.)
I made it to Big D and Granny's around 1:30 Saturday afternoon. About half the trusses were up and I helped hang the rest. This is where my lifting skills came in.
When it came time to nail up the sheeting Teddy asked me to hop up on the scaffold and do some nailing. Years of swinging a hammer had taken its toll and he needed to take it easy. So I did some nailing on the first sheet of OSB (Oriented Strand Board ... we used to call it, or something like it. particle board.) I started by nailing in the left-most nail with my right hand -- so, I was nailing across my body. It is a very very hard maneuver ... rarely attempted in the OSB Nailing Olympics. When I had driven the nail I did a back flip with a half twist off the scaffold.
Even the East German judge gave me an 8.
Teddy, however, gave me a 4. It would seem that the pain swinging a hammer inflicted on his body was less severe than the pain of watching me hammer inflicted on his soul. I didn't do much more nailing until Sunday afternoon when Ted was worn out.
(I should point out that Teddy has a hard time sitting still and watching people work is not in his nature. He'd rather drive a nail than watch it be driven. Sunday afternoon, when we were done with the big stuff, Teddy announced that he was done for the day and was going to take a break. Twenty minutes later he was back with two roofers he knew that he'd brought by to quote shingling the barn; he can't sit still even when he's on a break.)
I did get to drive some more nails Sunday afternoon. I even took a turn at the Sawsall. I refused to do any building-critical measuring.
I also did some climbing around in the loft on some wide boards. Despite the fact I was being very careful and had every intention of continuing to be very careful I didn't tell my Uncles and Dad to quit telling me to be careful -- I'd learned my lesson before.
Sometimes you can spend a week trying to sort out an odd IT problem and not get much done. Other times you can fix a monumental, life sucking IT problem but you'll be the only one to know about it and you won't have much to show for it. With a barn, however, at the end of two days work you've got something tangible that all the world can see.
Well, at least the neighbors can see it.
Granny made white cake with white icing (my favorite). Pork chops, baked beans, grilled corn on the cob, home made cole slaw, eggs, sausage, biscuits and hamburgers were also featured over the weekend.
I had a great time. It was good to see everybody.
Posted by delmer at 9:35 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
June 19, 2005
Women I've known: The French Girl
Once, when I was in Paris, France ...
Well, OK, I was only in Paris once and it was 28 years ago. I was 16 and it was spring break. We went to the Louvre, Notre Dame, the Arc de Triomphe (and I refuse to check for spelling errors), etc. There really isn't much to tell.
Fast forward 10 years and I was in Columbus, Ohio near the Ohio State University area. I was with a group of guys -- those I remember are Mike from Mansfield and Kevin S. from California (by way of Geneva on the Lake, Ohio).
Mike, Kevin and I ended up at a party. All of the typical party things were going on. We noticed an attractive, unhappy looking girl sitting by herself and Mike approached her. She ended up leaving the party with us and her mood brightened.
We must have gone out to eat. I remember sitting outside at a table somewhere and just shooting the bull. The young lady was from France, and in keeping with the precedent set by the G'day Hooters entry, I'll make up a name for our French friend: how about Monique.
Oh, and this would have all happened before the French openly hated us. Well, all of us except Jerry Lewis.
We spent a good while talking. We all tried to make Monique feel at home by mentioning famous, current-for-the-time French people we knew. We really weren't doing a very good job at this when Kevin finally brought up Jean-Luc Ponty. As it would happen, Jean-Luc may have been famous here ... but not in France. I remember the other guys and I wondering of Jean-Luc was really French at all. (He is.)
I should point out that I had three-years of high school French and three additional years of college French. Despite the fact that I hadn't spoken any French for years I was amazed at how much of it came back to me and I tried to make as much use of it as I could ... until ...
-- Monique finally stopped me and said, "When you're going to speak French to me, let me know so I know to listen for it."
Well. So much for my bilingualness.
Posted by delmer at 10:38 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
June 18, 2005
To park or not to park
A couple of years ago there was some work being done on the road in front of the company I work for. There was a big hole in the road and next to the hole was a very large pile of gravel. Next to the gravel were some very large "Road Closed" warning signs blocking the road.
Many many many people saw the signs and decided not to try to drive over the hole.
One woman saw the signs and decided she'd take her chances. She drove around the signs. She drove around the huge pile of gravel. She drove into the hole. Well, actually she just drove far enough so that her front wheels were hanging over the hole and the bottom of her car was resting on the pavement. I assume that if she'd had rear-wheel drive she may have tried to go farther.
She got out of the car, announced that she was late for a meeting, and then started walking down the road.
I so wish I had a picture of this.
Posted by delmer at 12:22 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 17, 2005
The Creek
As mentioned in the last entry, the boys and I went to Community Park in Franklin recently. In addition to all of the normal park-like stuff Community Park also had a creek within easy walking distance. As I recall there was a gravel road that went close to the creek and then a path that went from the road straight into it.
Sometimes mom would take us to the creek for a cook out. There was one area that seemed really wide that we'd wade across to reach the far bank. There we'd set up a small grill and cook hot dogs and burgers. Just off the front of this bank was a deeper area suitable for swimming.
When the boys and I visited the Park I thought it would be fun to go to the creek. Pavement has replaced a lot of the gravel and there are big piles of mulch sitting in the area where the original path I remembered was.
The creek seemed to have narrowed over the years, which struck me as odd. I would have expected it to be wider if anything. OK, maybe it didn't narrow, but it sure seemed bigger when I was smaller. In this picture you can see the far bank we'd wade to to have our picnics ... and wading may not be the right word -- the water wasn't much more than ankle deep. To the left is the deeper area that was suitable for swimming.
There is a Flintstone's episode in which Fred, Wilma, Betty and Barney go to the Grand Canyon. It's just a trickle of a stream and Fred looks at it and says something like, "It doesn't look like much now but they say some day it will really be something." As the boys and I plodded along the creek I couldn't help but think of this episode -- sure, my experience was the opposite of that described in the Flintstone example -- but, still, that's what came to mind.
And you know you've taken blogging to a whole new level when you are making weak comparisons of real-life experiences to 60's-era cartoons.
Posted by delmer at 10:32 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
June 13, 2005
Community Park
Between the ages of 4 (well, probably almost 5) and roughly 15 my family lived at 396 Thomas Drive in Franklin, Ohio. We were one house in from the corner of 4th and Thomas.
Just across 4th street lived the Tindels. They either had a really big yard or their house sat on two lots. I know that later -- after we moved from Thomas Drive -- another house was built next to their house. None of this is really important. There won't be a quiz.
What is important, so far as this entry is concerned, is that if you crossed 4th street and walked across what (I thought) was the Tindel's yard along what I remember being a farm fence, you'd come to the woods -- more specifically a path through the woods. The path led to Community Park.
Someday I'll take my GPS and sort out just how far from home the park was. It seemed like a big distance at the time: across 4th, through the woods, down the hill and into the park. In a straight line it can't be much more than 1/2 a mile.
On the far side of the park was, and is, Clear Creek. Sometimes my sibs, my mother and I (along with a neighbor kid and his mother) would take a hibachi and hot dogs to the creek and wade across to an island-like area on the far side. I was probably 10 or 11 at the time. It was really cool. When I got older I trapped along the creek. We'd also catch minnows in the creek for fishing.
Recently my boys and I made a trek to Community Park. While a lot has changed, a lot has stayed the same.
This sign is a new thing. As you can see today's children are nowhere as tough as kids were when I was little. Way back then Community Park had more of a Wild West feel to it. No rules! No regulations! Anarchy reigned!
Well, not really. I always remember it being a fairly safe place to be. Sure, when I got older I realized that the guys sitting in their cars were getting high, but they weren't really bothering anybody. When I was younger I didn't notice they were there; maybe they weren't.
The park is where we played Little League baseball and Pee Wee football. The high school football field is located in the park. There was a men's softball league that played most nights in the summer. There were always people around. The police cruised through on a regular basis.
I don't remember there being a water fountain in the early years, but I do remember the toilet. It was one of those pit jobs and it was horrible. I don't know what's there now.
Posted by delmer at 11:28 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 11, 2005
G'day Hooters
Rebecca took me to Hooters in NYC back in February of 2003.
When we walked in we sat at the bar next to a young guy who, as it would happen, was from Australia. He and a buddy had started a trip together -- France, England and the USA -- but his buddy had gotten homesick early on and had gone back home before getting too far.
I'm not sure how exciting this post will be, but I'm sure that calling the young guy things like "young guy" and "Australian kid" will get old soon. As the only Australian names that come to mind are Mick Dundee and Fosters Beer, I'm going to refer to the Aussie as Mick. (In an odd nomenclature twist, I used to work with a Mick Foster. He was not Australian.)
So, Rebecca and I sat next to Mick.
I mentioned to Mick that Hooters was not exactly what I thought it would be. The girls, while all very attractive, were not exactly Dolly Partons. Mick commented that as their tushies all seemed to be falling out of their shorts that "Arses" might be a more appropriate name. He had a point. I suggested that maybe the girls could go outside every 10 minutes or so -- it was about 14 degrees (Fahrenheit) out and I was sure that when they came back in their Hooters would be better defined.
Mick agreed. And this was before we'd had too many beers.
Mick had originally planned to come to the US first and then hit Europe on the return to Australia. His research revealed, however, that the drinking age over here is 21 and ... well, that wouldn't do. Mick adjusted his trip plans so that he'd turn 21 while in England.
At one point I told Mick that he must be doing something wrong. He'd come all the way from Australia and he'd ended up sitting in a Hooters next to a boring American.
When I asked if the accent was helping him out with the women he said, "Not as much as you might think. My friends told me that all I'd have to do is say 'G'day mate' and I'd have girls all over me. That hasn't been the case."
I told him I thought the problem might be that he was in New York City and that the people here have seen it all. Being an Aussie is not really a novelty. I told him he probably wouldn't have to get too far away from NYC for the accent to work its magic.
Rebecca suggested Mick and I get our picture taken with our bartender. We asked if she'd be in a picture and she told us she doesn't do that. Neither did another Hooters girl we asked. It seems the girls are more than willing to walk around half dressed and falling out of their shorts -- so long as photographs aren't involved. Maybe their parent's think they're in NYC working as librarians and the girls are afraid a photo might make its way back to them. Or maybe, if they did allow photos to be taken they'd spend all of their time posing and never get any work done; this sounds more likely.
When I asked Mick if he came from money -- he was 21 and traveling the globe after all -- he assured me he wasn't. One of his parents, as I recall, was a teacher and the other something else quite normal. He'd been saving his money for a while in order to take this trip. I thought that was pretty commendable.
I'm certain we talked about Steve Irwin, funnel spiders (hmmm, funnel-web spiders may be the correct name) and poisonous snakes. Mick had not been bitten by any of them.
I can't remember where Mick was headed after NYC. But I hope he had better luck with the accent there.
Posted by delmer at 10:39 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
June 9, 2005
It's 4 a.m. Do you know where your engineers are?
To flesh out yesterday's gripping entry ...
Tuesday night I was taking it easy on the couch bemoaning the fact that there was really nothing on TV to watch. I was getting ready to flip over to my PVR (A TiVo-like device. I use KnoppMyth) to watch one of the many episodes of Coach I have waiting when a call came in.
The caller was Mike, one of the engineers from work. He wasn't sure how late he could get into our office with his key card and asked if I'd meet him there just in case. He also suggested he might need a ride to Columbus International Airport to rent a car. He said it would take him 27 minutes to get to the office (engineers are never so vague as to say, "About 30 minutes.") and I told him I'd meet him there then.
By my watch it took him 28 minutes.
Mike had received a call from our Sales Director. A group of the guys had a meeting the next day and wondered if Mike would mind driving up to Detroit to tweak the item they were showing.
By the time Mike had his gear together it was obvious he wasn't going to make it to the rental company on time -- they closed at 11:30. He'd talked to our Sales Director who had said he'd feel better if Mike had a riding companion. It was about midnight -- I didn't really have anything else to do so I said I'd go -- mostly to keep Mike awake. (Despite the fact he got jitters about pulling my son's tooth, Mike is really an iron man and would no doubt have been safe without me ... this is no slight against you Mikey).
I had purchased two 1-liter bottles of Diet Pepsi and two 1-liter bottles of Mountain Dew for the trip. I also had a quart of Heineken (... for a good deal less than I paid at Philly airport.)
I know I know I know -- In yesterday's installment I stated that alcohol wasn't involved. What I should have said is that alcohol did not create a spontaneous road trip. However, since a spontaneous road trip was at hand, I decided to have a beer just for old time's sake. I was not driving. Mike was drinking Mountain Dew.
Mike's a funny guy. I think I'm funny. I figured we'd have a good time on the drive up. We did. The three-plus hours passed pretty fast. I held off having to tinkle until we were almost to the hotel; not bad for a guy with three liters of liquid floating around in him. We didn't get arrested for anything (I'll blog about that someday.)
At 3:30 a.m. we were standing outside his Passat next to a truck. Security passed us by but didn't seem to look too worried about us. The rest of our coworkers showed up a few moments later (we'd called them). Everybody got busy doing what they do -- the engineers did some engineering stuff, the sales director told sales stories.
I took pictures. A few of them are sprinkled in this post. There are two shots of Mike working under the truck -- one at 4 a.m., the other at 8 a.m., and a shot of several of the guys looking under the hood of the truck. (Oh, in addition to just taking pictures, I also tried to stay out of the way and not offer suggestions. If you are a man or you know a man you may recognize just how hard this is to do ... especially when tools and a truck are involved.)
I almost forgot to mention. As Mike was working on the underside of the truck the sprinklers came on -- one was under the back end of the truck just a few feet from Mikey. While it would have been hilarious if he'd gotten drenched, the wind was with us and nothing quite that exciting happened.
So. Mike and I arrived about 3:30 a.m. (he would say, 3:27:31, probably). Some tweaking was done. We all retired to our rooms at 5 a.m. The alarm went off at 7 a.m. At 8 a.m. Mike was admiring his work and applying some wire ties. We were on the road by 9 a.m. We stopped and ate at Polaris Fashion Place (Columbus can never have too many malls) and rolled into work around 1 p.m. At 3 p.m. I was on the couch. At 6 p.m. I was awakened by the action of "World's Wildest Police Videos."
The presentation went well. Everybody was happy.
Posted by delmer at 6:14 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
June 8, 2005
Have you ever noticed ...
Have you ever noticed how sometimes you'll be sitting on your couch, around 10 p.m., and you'll get a call from a coworker who needs some help at work so you go there and then five hours later you find yourself 200 miles from your couch as you pull in to Detroit?
You finally get to bed at 5 a.m. At 7 a.m the alarm goes off and you end up at the breakfast buffet with a total of five coworkers. About 9 you're back on the road toward the couch but you stop by work first for a few minutes. Two hours later you're finally on the couch and typing while McGyver is playing in the background.
And all the while this is happening, there is no alcohol involved.
Have you ever noticed this?
Posted by delmer at 3:02 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
June 5, 2005
Today's Oddity
Somebody Googled using this search phrase and my site turned up as a hit:
pitchers of what s on the inside of your butt hole
This is the Google entry shown:
What's A Delmer Look Like?
I remember pitchers were twelve bucks which is the route we took. ... Bangles -- In Your Room Butt Hole Surfers -- Underdog (yes, the cartoon theme song) ...
www.delmer.com/ - 35k - Cached - Similar pages
I've got to admit that when I saw the search phrase I was a bit confused until I read the Google entry. I'm assuming the searcher is a fellow southern Ohioan. We're not above saying "pitcher" when we mean "picture."
I should probably thank an old girlfriend for setting me straight on the pronunciation. She was from Miamisburg ... which just goes to show you that you don't have to be much futher north than Franklin to get the pronunciation right.
I still say "dinn-t" for "didn't" whereas my kids say "didd-t."
What's up with that?
Posted by delmer at 12:49 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 4, 2005
The Things you find Googling
I have a Forerunner 201 that has quit transferring data from the GPS to the computer. While trying to find a solution to the problem, I found this.
In other news I recently wrote a long post about Orson Bean. At the time I had just started using Ecto (the program I use to post to this blog) and managed to delete the entry twice.
The post involved having seen Orson on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson years ago and a story he told involving cookies and a train station. I'd thought of this story many times over the years and always attributed it to Orson Bean.
Imagine my surprise when I found the story in The Salmon of Doubt told as if it had happened to Douglas Adams. I've no doubt that the story happened as Adams tells it -- but why did I think it was Orson Bean all of these years? I checked the web and found that OB had been on Carson many times -- DA didn't appear to have ever been on the Tonight Show. I did find a reference to Adams being on Letterman's show and actually telling that story to Letterman.
Still.
I know Orson Bean when I see him. I wouldn't recognize Douglas Adams if he walked into my home -- or course after we were introduced I'd be stunned beyond words as Adams has been dead for a while now.
So I can only assume Orson was telling the story as if it were his own. Otherwise, I would have attributed the story to some guy I didn't recognize.
Carson was on through 1992. I read the Hitchhikers Guide and associated books prior to '90. What I'm getting at is if Doug Adams had been on Carson, I should have known who he was.
Well, I've sort of reduced this post to just babbling, when what I'm getting at is that in the past week I've seen Orson Bean on TV twice. Once on a recent episode of Two and a Half Men -- and then last night in some movie with Betty White (possibly Chance of a Lifetime)
I know for a fact it was Orson Bean who told to Johnny Carson the story about a butterfly he seemed to charm. The cookie story ... I may have misremembered it.
It would seem that Orson has been busier over the years than I thought. He'd fallen into my "Whatever happened to ..." category. As it happens he's been in a whole lot of things over the years -- just things I haven't seen.
Way to go Big O.
Posted by delmer at 10:04 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 3, 2005
Is mine bigger than yours?
Or faster anyway.
As I mentioned yesterday, my friend Joe has the fastest home Internet connection I've ever seen. There was some question in my mind as to whether or not the 4.5 Mb reported by the test was as high as the test reported -- and therefore, Joe's connection was even faster -- or if he the report stopped at 4.5 for, as luck would have it, Joe's connection was exactly that. Or ... did he in fact have it pegged at 5.0 Mb but I failed to notice as the numbers shown went up to 4.5 and it would have been up to me to add the additional .5.
If you read yesterday's post you'll see that there was a lot of head banging going on in Joe's garage -- and not the LA Guns kind. I refuse to be held accountable for not paying better attention.
I cleared my browser cache yesterday and ran the speed test on my PC from my home. It came in at 3914 Kb (3.9 Mb). Which is really pretty good. And while this seems fast -- Joe's was significantly faster.
I could watch the images in the test rapidly draw on my screen. The images on Joe's PC appeared in the blink of an eye
I did a test download from one of RoadRunner's servers to see how I would fare from home. I downloaded the file at a sustained 593 Kb/Sec with a peak of over 600.
Oh, I remember the days of dial-up and the 3 and 4 Kbs/Sec downloads. This is better. It's so much better. If I were Wild Cherry I'd be funkin' out in ev-er-y waaay.
Posted by delmer at 10:58 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
June 2, 2005
Putting the Finishing Touches on Jersey
Getting back to my trip to New Jersey and New York City (and why is it every time I even think of the phrase New York City I can't help but add the inflection used in the commercial for Pace Picante Hot Sauce).
As I said, Joe and I spent a part of Sunday working on getting an exterior lamp mounted to a pad in the ground. What I failed to mention was that Joe has a garage with a shorter-than-normal ceiling and the top of the door that leads from the garage to the house hits me just above the eyes.
This situation led to a lot of "Watch your head" from Joe over the course of the weekend. Finally, tired of hearing it I told Joe that I'd been just over six-four for better than twenty years and habitually duck whenever I'm near anything that looks like it may be low enough to brain me -- and that I didn't need his constant reminders.
Apparently this comment was enough to put the God of Fate in motion. Not twenty minutes later I ran the top of my head into the door frame as we went from the garage to the house. This was a nice hit too -- an inch or two further back on my head and it may have triggered whatever it is that makes me want to puke when I hit my noggin just right; pointy cabinet doors are the best at triggering this response. (I've never really thrown up. I've just wanted to.) Later I would run my head into a sink trap that hangs through the garage ceiling and a couple of pipes.
On some garage doors -- mostly the older ones -- there's a piece of metal that slides back and forth in a slot and is spring loaded. If you look at it from the right angle it is shaped like an 'L' ; as a matter of fact, if you tilt that 'L' backwards and roll it so the foot of it is pointed at your belly you'd have a good idea what I'm talking about. Anyway, the contraption is sort of a lock and when the door is down the foot of the 'L' works like a handle. When the door is up it works like a skull slicer. Or it would if it were sharper.
I banged my head on enough things (and only after telling Joe to quit warning me to be careful) that when we were mounting the lamp I told him that, while I had no intention of falling off his wall, he might want to warn me not to just for luck.
For the Geeks
I visited Joe a couple of years ago and found he had the fastest Internet connection I'd ever run across in a home connection. He uses his local cable provider for his Internet access.
This last time I visited I thought I'd check again. I went to the Toast dot net Performance Test and gave it a run. The test ran quick enough that I thought -- despite the unlikeliness of it -- that the images might be loading from the cache. They weren't.
The graph that came up at the end of the test had Joe's connection pegged at the limit shown, which I thought was 4.5. The graph that comes up when I run the test in Columbus shows 4.5 as the highest-marked value, but then continues another click to what would be 5.0. I thought it was odd that Joe's connection pushed the graph to the limit -- that is, there was no unmarked it-could-be-this-fast area beyond the speed given for his connection. I should have paid better attention. And I would have were I not dizzy from my experience with the skull slicer Joe has in his garage.
In any case, the connection is at least 4.5 Mbs and may be a bit faster.
Posted by delmer at 9:59 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 1, 2005
When is a question not a question?
This next story features: Me -- the guy who writes this blog. Paul -- a coworker, an attorney, a smart guy, and generally a smart a**. Cary -- a coworker, another smart guy, an MBA, a smart a**. Cary has taken in upon himself to right all grammar wrongs.
Paul sent the following e-mail to me. It had the subject line Magi Question:
Delmer -
I need to look up something in MAGI from '96. I no longer have a MAGI link on my machine.
Thanks -
Paul
I replied with:
Those are two statements. Not questions.
If you were on Jeopardy, you would be prompted to put this in the form of a question. If you were talking to Cary he'd give you a questioning stare and say "and ...." making you want to kill him.
As it is me, I will suggest you go to J:\MAGI and look for the "Copy Of Magi1" shortcut. It seems to work. I don't remember any passwords but I can dig some up if you need one. (The digging takes a bit, otherwise I'd dig now and send you one.)
Paul followed up with:
Thank you for gracious reply. I shall keep this information in mind. In
the mean time, I have another question:
I have since found the information I need elsewhere.
Thanks -
Paul
It made me laugh out loud.
Posted by delmer at 10:30 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack