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April 30, 2007
Our Internet Goes *BOOM*
A Ditch Witch made our Internet her Bitch today.
Actually, it wasn't the Ditch Witch. And it wasn't the big back hoe. And it wasn't the smaller back hoe.
It was whatever that machine is they use to bury cable without having to dig up the whole road. They dig a small hole here and there where they have to check for gas lines and then push/drill pipe several feet beneath the surface along side of the road with some sort of pipe-laying machine. The whole thing is pretty cool and the guys doing the installation made it about 1/4 of the way down the road before they cut through the cable that provides our company with Internet service.
I made a call to Time Warner and, after some very brief troubleshooting (during which I described the back hoe out front and they did something that determined the outage seemed to be fairly localized to our company) they said they'd have someone out within four hours, per our contract.
I wasn't really too worried about the four-hour promise. I've had the same promise made twice before in the last eight years and it has never taken four hours and has been as quick as 15 minutes before a truck has arrived.
Today it took about 90 minutes but they sent two trucks. Or, if we average, about 45 minutes per truck.
As it turned out the cable wasn't cut in front of our building, but several buildings away. And it was cut beneath one of the concrete entranceways to a parking lot. There are no sidewalks on our street, just curbs and then lawn with a few entranceways here and there — very few.
I spoke with the Time Warner guys and they were pretty sure they'd have us up and running in fairly short order. And they did.
I called work from Jack's baseball game at 6:30 p.m. and one of the guys said he'd been surfing porn for about 20 minutes. So all was well. And I'm lying about the porn thing.
After the game I drove by the building to check on the repair. Right now we've got a cable running from one side of the of the entranceway in question, into the street and around the entranceway and then disappearing into a hole in the grass.
I imagine we'll have a more permanent solution after the heavy equipment moves on.
Posted by delmer at 9:33 PM | Comments (2)
April 29, 2007
Our Wacky Weekend
We had a big weekend in the Wells' household.
Friday night Jack had a baseball game in the drizzling cool rain at a location about an hour away from us. At the same time, Haydn had track practice at a location just a mile from where we live and then a dance to go to.
With the help of friends and teammates we were able to make it all work out.
Saturday we had track and baseball. One of the Track Moms was kind enough to provide transportation to and from Haydn's meet and picked him up at 8:15 a.m. After Haydn shot out the door Samson and I shot off to Mel's for breakfast (Jack would rather sleep than eat, I know that and, being Super Dad, try to respect his non-dangerous-to-himself wishes when I can). At Mel's we ran into one of our friends and Samson and I had post-breakfast ice cream, to celebrate her birthday, while she had eggs, toast and coffee. Always one to know how to show a woman a good time on her birthday (or the day after), I paid for her breakfast.
After breakfast, Jack, Sam and I drove to the same ballpark we'd been at Friday night. On the way there we stopped by White Castle so Jack could charge his batteries prior to the doubleheader. The first game was overcast and we had a chilly breeze blowing on us. The sun broke through for the second game and things were a bit warmer.
Saturday night we went to Target and bought Samson a practice amp for my 25-year old electric guitar — you know, for those times when things aren't noisy enough. The guitar required a bit of surgery to make it tunable — a spring had broken in whatever the part is that has springs (Hey, I don't know all the names of the parts … just about any bit that isn't called "a string" remains nameless to me … but I knew how to fix it. Wait, there might be a nut and a head. Also pickups Maybe tuning knobs. Oh, frets.)
Sunday we had a baseball game at noon. Jack's team won 12 to 2 and this led to a 4:30 game which created a conflict as Samson had soccer games at 3 and 4 at a field about 3/4 of a mile from where I live. The coach was kind enough to keep an eye on Jack and bring him home so I could get Samson to his first game pretty much on time.
After soccer Haydn and I worked out in the garage and then I mowed the yard and sprayed some weeds using the neighbor's male cat. Well, I really used a sprayer I have that I've cleverly painted a big P (for poison) on to distinguish it from the two other sprayers that I wonder why I own. I had to say the cat thing because the description of my weekend was starting to read like James Joyce (i.e., boring as hell) and it really wasn't like that at all. It was a great weekend.
Sunday night, after all the kids went to bed, I got out the fondue set, some paraffin, and did a little bit of evening up on the manly tree line.
Highlights from Jack's Games: Jack got on base a couple of times that I saw and may have gotten on once or twice when I wasn't around. One of his hits came when the team needed a hit; hits, as you know, are always good, but some come at better times than others. Jack stole second once. He hustled and tried hard. He had an error that he complained about but I missed seeing. He got a couple of hits to get on base and he walked to get on. He grounded out a couple of times and struck out a couple of times.
Highlights from Sam's Games: I was sitting on the side of the field talking with one of the dads and overheard, I thought, someone mention that they should put Samson at goalie as he does a good job there. Later, when Sam was doing goalie work, he scooped up the ball and gave it a big boot. I heard a man say, "Good gosh! Who kicked that?" to which a woman replied, "Samson. I told you he was a good goalie." Samson kicked the ball across midfield and about 1/2 between midfield and the opposing team's goal. He did it several times and I can't say that I saw anybody else kick the ball as far as midfield. It looks like all that time on the bicycle has done him good.
Personal Highlights: The boys had fun and were outside in the sun (and rain) bouncing around. They enjoy playing and I like the fact they like to play and feel good about their accomplishments.
Posted by delmer at 8:50 PM | Comments (3)
April 28, 2007
The Trip Out West Part XVI: Gunnison
If you are just coming in to the story, and you want to read all the good stuff about my stint in jail, you should really start at The Beginning. There's also a story, as you work your way through the trip, about me playing snugglebunnies with a blonde gal. That story repeats, probably around Part XVIII or Part XX — can you ever hear enough about the handful of times I've had sex? I know I can't — but you should really read the first story for character-development purposes.
When we last left off, Tom, Kent and I were at Red Rocks touring the backstage area unsupervised. We had a trucker with us who we were paling around with while he waited for his truck to be loaded with Coors.
One day we headed off to Gunnison, Colorado, home of Western State College where Kent had spent some time as a student. Student housing for a lot of the kids at Western State is made up of college-owned mobile homes that sit in a trailer park (I'm pretty sure the college owns the mobile homes).
(That probably isn't all that important it's just that, as I type this, bits a pieces come to me that I'd not given a thought to in years. If I ever have a way of checking the facts I'll want to look back on this to see how close I was. Have I mentioned the blonde girl I was entangled with in Boulder? I look back on that periodically. I wonder if she has a blog and if she's ever posted about the Ohioan that had trouble staying awake in a tent in Vegas. I'll have more on that in a later post.)
Anyway, we didn't go to Gunnison to visit Kent's alma mater. We went to hang with some of Kent's buddies and drink beer.
One of the guys we met was Marty — and if he were to walk in my house right now I think I'd recognize him. Well, maybe if someone showed me a picture of him from 1984 I'm pretty sure I'd say, "Hey, that's Marty from Gunnison." Who knows? Maybe not.
A couple of the other people Kent had told us about were two guys they called The Hanson Brothers due to the fact they used to beat on each other (in a friendly manner) much like the Hanson's from the movie Slap Shot.
[Several years ago, let's say five, what the hell, let's say ten which would put it 20 years after the movie Slap Shot came out, I was watching television and a beer commercial came on. Are those guys the Hanson's? I wondered to myself. I hadn't heard anyone reference them since the trip to Gunnison and I'd never seen them in anything except Slap Shot and I've got to believe that the number of people who'd recognize them would be rather limited and mostly men. What would they be doing in a beer commercial? It was them and I was tickled to see the commercial. It was the only time I've ever seen it.]
I don't remember either of Kent's Hansons real names but I do recall that one of them had an old car with bare metal exposed and he told us the air was so dry he really didn't have to worry about rust forming. The spot had been bare for more than a year.
One adventure we had in Gunnison, and this (I think) was after our rafting trip (which I'll blog about later) involved Marty zipping up and down the streets of the mobile home park on a dirt bike. The police came and Tom took the heat for racing the bike around even though he hadn't ridden it at all; he figured The Man couldn't do anything to him since we'd be leaving the state soon enough and that Marty, being a local and all, might have gotten into some trouble for riding an unlicensed vehicle on the street.
It's worth noting that Gunnison was the coldest spot in the country most of the nights we stayed there. Maybe all the nights. This can be attributed to the fact the elevation is 7703 feet above sea level.
Denver is 5280 feet.
Dayton (the trip's starting point) is 738 feet.
Columbus (where I live now) is 902 feet.
[The elevation of Springfield, Ohio is 1000 feet above sea level. Why is this important to know? In 1987 I rode my bike from Columbus to Springfield; I was aiming for Franklin, and had to call for support in Springfield. I knew it was uphill all the way.]
Posted by delmer at 12:15 AM | Comments (4)
April 27, 2007
Thugs need to do some more book readin'
I was looking through the NBC website for the local affiliate and came across the headline Swastika, 666 Spray-Painted On Hilliard Home. My first thought was the it has recently been determined that 666 is not the number of the beast; the number of the beast may be 616, I don't recall and it isn't important to this post. I heard a story about the number-of-the-beast mix-up last summer.
I don't understand hate crimes — how can you hate someone for being a Jew, a black, a woman, etc? For being something they had no choice in being? I can almost understand hating someone for being an asshole even though I'd argue that a lot of times assholes can't help the fact they are asses.
Anyway, the reference to a Swastika caught my eye and I clicked to read the story.
As you can see the Swastika is backwards. Maybe Morton Downey Jr. is the vandal involved. If he is we'll have to cut him some slack as coming back from the dead is hard on a man. Look how it's aged Ron Jeremy.
A backwards Swastika. The incorrect number for the beast. What are thugs coming to these days? Which was where this whole post was going to originally go.
And then I read the article. It had a familiar ring to it. Especially the part where The Wife at the Time is mentioned by name.
(Chukbuck is misspelled in the story.)
Posted by delmer at 11:41 AM | Comments (0)
April 26, 2007
The Hardest Working Woman on the Internet
You may recall that I broke the LCD in my camera the other day. That incident came on the heels of losing my phone and washing my billfold.
It was certainly a big week.
Based on prior experience I doubted it would be worth my time to try to have the camera fixed. A couple of years ago one of our cameras at work broke and when I called about having it fixed I was told the cost would be $197.00 or I could buy a newer camera, with a better warranty, for $204.00. I was a little ticked that the camera had gone south just after the warranty expired and opted to buy a new camera from a different manufacturer.
With that in mind I decided I'd try to fix the LCD on the current camera myself and started looking around the Internet for parts. While I never found what I wanted, one of the first sites I went to featured a brunette looking over her shoulder at me with a promise that I could talk to her live with just a mouse click. Which, I think you'll agree, is almost as good as getting to talk to a naked girl for a dollar (as a sign once promised on a trip to Philly just over 20-something years ago.)
But wait! The dark-haired girl looked familiar. She'd promised to talk to me before someplace else.
I started looking around.
This girl was everywhere. I like to think her name is Jamie Brown, that she wears Hot Pants (OWWW!!! too hot!) to work and that she's got a brand new bag. Mostly, I like to think that if I click her link (oh man, when was the last time I had my link clicked? …) I'd be taken to someone who was not reading from a script, who could actually answer my questions, who spoke a language similar to the one I speak with a accent that was either similar to mine or at least kind of sexy.
That's an idea. If the folks at tech support can't fix your problem, maybe they could at least talk dirty to you. "While your computer's rebooting," the female tech might purr, in some hard to make out accent, "let me ask you, what are you wearing?" You'd answer and she'd continue, "Oooh. A pocket protector … that makes me so … was that the Windows startup sound I heard? Okay, login and …)
Honestly, the Jamie Brown discovery was a lot cooler when I found her at the site I visited while looking for camera parts. I knew I'd seen her someplace before and there she was again and I'd hoped to make a game of figuring out where I'd seen her first. After less than two minutes of "research" I'd found her in half-a-dozen places.
The button she graces takes a person to a call center that answers phones for a lot of different companies.
Five minutes after starting the LCD-screen search I was on eBay. This afternoon a broken camera arrived. Less than an hour later I had a working Nikon with a good LCD in it.
[Up above, it took me three tries to type, "oh man, when was the last time I had my link clicked?" My fingers wouldn't cooperate with what was banging around in my head and I typed "oh man, when was the last time I had my clink licked?" And when I corrected it I made the same typing mistake twice more before getting it right.
Which is kind of hard to understand. I don't even have a clink.]
Posted by delmer at 10:17 PM | Comments (2)
April 25, 2007
Commercials
There's a television ad in which a woman is riding a fairly full elevator down and changing the configuration of her clothing; she strips off some items which reveals more sports-oriented attire beneath. When the elevator doors open she rushes out the front of the office building to find her gal pal waiting at the curb in a car with bikes on the roof. Girl One hops in, looks forward very seriously and say "let's go."
I don't even know why I hate it. Is it because Girl Two was obviously going to go even without the prodding of Girl One? Is it because the tone Girl One uses is so serious it's as if the gals are on their way to deliver a heart for a life-saving operation? Is it because Girl One was changing clothes in an elevator and Steven Tyler wasn't in the frame?
Another commercial involves a bunch of women on motorcycles chasing two guys down in their vehicle. The leader of the pack returns the driver's cell phone to him, declares "there's a new number in there," turns to the other woman, snaps her finger and says, "let's go."
Again, I'm not sure why I don't like this commercial. I don't think it's the dialog that the two commercials have in common that put me off and I'm a big fan of attractive women.
I'm not even sure it's the stupidity of the commercials that offend me. There's one I really like in which an attractive young lady is sort of gyrating around and sweating and words pop up on the screen that say, "When she sweats, it's hot … when you sweat it's smelly," or something like that. See, it's sort of stupid, but it's fun and funny.
Maybe I think the other commercials are trying to take themselves too seriously.
Maybe it's because crap like attractive women changing clothes in elevators just doesn't happen and I doubt there are roving bands of good-looking young-lady motorcycle gangs roaming the southwest.
Who can tell?
I know that I thank God each and every day for the fact that I can't take ten steps in Hilliard without stumbling across a hot, scantily clad, 20-something female gyrating in place to some song only she can hear.
[Last night I saw the spot with the motorcycle gang — it's an ad for Suzuki autos. Just before I posted this the commercial with the elevator came on — it's a Suzuki car commercial as well. I hadn't realized both the commercials were for the same company. I can only assume the advertising agency involved has a big bag filled with dialog tiles that they reach into as they are writing commercials and "let's go" came up twice in two hours.]
Posted by delmer at 10:34 PM | Comments (2)
April 24, 2007
Jay Leno's Garage
I usually try to keep Vanner Inc., the company I work for, out of the blog as it is a great place to work, is full of wonderful, intelligent, good looking people (as far as engineer-types are concerned), and I wouldn't want anybody to think any less of the company or its employees due to the fact either were mentioned in WADLL. Let's face it, this isn't exactly great literature (despite the fact that I'm about to use 'nor') nor does it often contain highbrow humor.
Of course, you come here and read it on a somewhat-frequent basis. And I write it. I'm not sure this is flattering for either of us.
Anyway, the point I'm going to make can sort of be illustrated, loosely, like this: Sometimes I go to GNC for vitamins — after doing my own research … I wouldn't buy their creatine — and if they have a sale going. I think most of their products are fine if not overpriced sometimes. And, of course, some of the things they sell are sort of bullshitty, just like you'll find at any nutrition store or even your gym (Which is where I got my creatine. And, by the way, creatine may be BS for all I know; it wasn't expensive and I've giving it a test drive.)
Generally speaking GNC isn't any worse than anybody else and they have everything.
And now they have Enzyte. You know why men buy Enzyte, and it isn't because they lack the ability to make goofy facial expressions and they're hoping that when Enzyte says "natural male enhancement" they think the Enzyte Scam Sales Team means "dumbass smile." Of course, for a man to think anything else would be even more stupid.
As a group, though, men aren't very smart.
Back to the topic.
Vanner has a video at Jay Leno's Garage.
In the video you'll see, from left to right, Tim (one of our sales guys), Bernard (the guy in charge of keeping Jay's cars running), Jay Leno (Jay Leno) and Steve (our CEO).
This all came about as one of our products is in Jay's Tank Car (Clicking that link will take you to a Popular Mechanics site that has a story about the Tank Car.). Something was going on with the Tank Car that was causing the batteries to drain (and I believe it involved an electronic clutch … I'm not really a car guy, I'm more of a computer-networking guy and with that in mind I think I can safely say the Tank Car does not have wireless access to the Internet). One of our products was installed (it is mentioned in the video) and the problem was resolved.
The video isn't long and it makes mentions of which of our products you can and cannot use if you are driving around submerged.
Posted by delmer at 11:59 PM | Comments (0)
April 23, 2007
Spin City
I'm really not bitching here, just making an observation.
I put 25 miles on The Mighty Schwinn tonight. It was incredibly windy, and I only mention that because a guy I work with keeps commenting on what a die hard I must be to cycle when it's windy. This same guy spends 40-minutes at a time on a trainer which is an activity that I think would kill me after 10 minutes. And that, I think, makes him more of a die hard. (I'd rather ride 4-hours in a hurricaine than spend 10 minutes on a trainer.)
Hey, before I get to the non-bitch, I want to point out two things that happened on my trip home from Grove City the other day.
1. A couple of girls in a convertible honked at me and that is always entertaining. As they looked back and waved I could tell that I could easily be their father; they looked to be about twenty. As much as I enjoy typing that girls in a convertible honked at me, I'd honestly rather not have anybody honk at me. It's sort of startling.
2. As I pedaled up Trueman Blvd. I saw a kid on a bike coming toward me on the sidewalk. He looked to be about 10 or 12. As we neared each other he looked my way, made a fist and said, "Yea … bike riders!" like we were in the same club or something. It cracked me up.
Now we're back to tonight.
I was 15-miles into my ride and pedaling up Davidson Road with the wind at my back. As I approached a light it turned yellow and I slowed as I wasn't about to be through it before it turned red. I'd been doing about 24 mph.
As I braked two guys on bikes shot by me and ran the red light.
I am not the bicycle police, and it really isn't my business, but I am a fan of obeying traffic laws. I think it makes people in autos less angry when they come upon a cyclist. The guys who ran the light were going to be going up a hill and they were going to be front of the traffic that had been in the left turn lane at the cross street of the light they'd just gone through.
Was that clear enough? The guys ran the light. They were headed up a hill with a narrow overpass at the top. The drivers that were going to be behind them, and slowed by them, would have seen them run the light and would be filled with thoughts like:If those assholes hadn't run that light I wouldn't be stuck behind them now! If bicyclists are going to be on the road they should obey the traffic laws like the rest of us have to. They think they own the road!
Like I said, I wasn't really all that concerned as it was none of my business. I must confess, though, I was a bit disappointed by their actions.
As the second rider passed beneath the red light I heard a noise. It sounded like a thin cable that had been under tension snapped and I thought the guy had run over something. And maybe he had. I know that his tire went immediately flat — not like a slow leak, but like an immediate, severe, loss of air.
The duo stopped to fix the tire.
You've seen the oddball things I cycle in so I'd never pick on another person's choice in cycling attire. Let's suppose, though, that some guys were going to come by for a group ride and one of them showed up wearing the same jersey and shorts I had on. I'd change.
Just because it would be too weird.
The two scofflaws were dressed the same. They had the same jerseys and shorts on. When I came up behind them I thought they were a married couple — which would have made the whole thing kind of cute. When I passed them I noticed it was a couple of guys in their 20s. And it isn't like their jerseys said Phonak or Discovery Chanel or United States Postal Service on them. They were Tecate Jerseys the guys had bought from a cycling shop.
I guess there's a chance they could have been a gay couple, which would make the matching outfits a cute thing. I'll have to check with my gay friends to see if cycling is big in the gay community. I only hope I'm not asked if one of the guys was pedaling funny; I wasn't paying that kind of attention to the situation.
I really don't think gay people run red lights.
Posted by delmer at 11:21 PM | Comments (3)
April 22, 2007
You owe me
If you were in Central Ohio today and if you had a pleasant experience as far as idiots not being around you goes … you have me to thank.
Today, for you my gentle reader, I used my special powers to ensure that each and every idiot in a four-county radius was in front of me in whatever line I was in. And I did it for you.
I'm not certain, but my reach may have extended as far as Florida as one of the idiots I was behind was a 30-ish woman with Florida tags on her car. That may be giving me too much credit. Maybe it was coincidence and, really, the only stupid thing she did was throw trash out her window. What makes a person think, "I've got this piece of trash in my car that I no longer want. Ah! I'll toss it out the window. I am that special. The rules of common courtesy do not apply to me."
My favorite idiot was the guy at one of the large home improvement stores. He was in the self-checkout line and reached the point in his self-checkout where he needed to do something with a handful of loose rubber O-rings.
I assume you know how self-checkout works. You take your items from your cart, scan them, and put them in your bag. Self-checkout is supposed to speed things up for people with a few items. The whole speeding-things-up part is defeated when a goofball shows up with a bunch of loose O-rings. How did he even get them? I thought everything in this big home improvement store was individually wrapped! I'll bet the guy was supposed to put the O-rings in a bag and write a number down on the outside of it.
There was a moment when I wanted to give the guy a round of applause. Somehow he brought up a screen on the terminal that showed a big bunch of (what I think) were O-rings. I had to withhold the applause as he couldn't decide which O-rings he'd purchased and the thought of paying two cents too much screwed with him enough that he had to seek assistance from the employee lording over the self-checkout area. And she was having enough trouble. One of the self-checkout terminals was out of order, though not marked as such so she had to keep telling people it was out of order. Another terminal had some sort of clusterfucky thing going on with it which I honestly think was a user-error of some sort.
This left one terminal that was serving people with any regularity. The woman behind me needed servicing in such a big way that she decided to cut line. I'm guessing she needed to get on the road as she had an SUV full of trash she needed to throw out the window one piece of a time on the way home.
I eventually gave up when a woman got in line behind me and started thinking out loud. It wasn't what she was thinking, just the way she was saying it that got to me. I knew if I had to listen to her too long I'd go nuts. So I returned my two items to their proper location and drove two minutes to the other massive home improvement store.
(Yes, yes, yes. I could have gone to a full-service line at the first place, but the lines were way too long for the piddly little purchase I was going to make.)
At the other massive home improvement store I was in and out in five minutes. I bought the same item I'd had in my hand at the first place. I was second in line at checkout. The store seemed to be primarily idiot free.
As you know my driving skills are second only to yours making the two of us Number One and Number Two in a auto. If you and I were to ever have lunch in a restaurant together I'm certain the waiter, sensing our positions in the World of Driving would affectionately call us Pee and Poo. South of the Equator I suspect we'd be Poo and Pee.
I don't know that I care much for that last paragraph, but it's staying. It sounded funnier (well, funny) as I was riding around on the bike today.
Anyway, on the way home from lunch (At the KFC … and to the idiot in front of me there let me say: It's a frikkin' KFC! Does the menu ever change? Order what you got last time. At the very least read the menu before you get in line. We were the only two people in the store! Would it have delayed you all that much had you said, "I really have no idea what I want, why don't you go ahead of me." I knew what I wanted. It was the same thing I got last time I was there … and the time before … and the time before …).
So, on the way home from KFC I was behind a guy that I knew was going to sit too long through the green left arrow. How did I know? Just before I thought it was about time for the light to change he thought it was time to turn around and face the person in the backseat. You and I, having been blessed with superior driving skills and having a sense of common courtesy as it applies to proper in-an-auto behavior, know that the time to look at the person in the backseat is never. But if you have to do it the proper time is within five seconds of you coming to a complete stop at the red light. The light is red — you know it is going to turn green, it always does — and the longer you sit at a red light the more likely it becomes that it is going to turn green in the next instant. It will turn green, without fail, as soon as you turn around to look at something in the backseat.
Obviously if you have a child in the backseat, or any other thing that could projectile puke without much warning, the rules regarding backseat-looking go out the window. Much like litter does if you are a Floridian.
Rats. There was another moment-of-idiocy that I encountered today.
I've lost it.
Posted by delmer at 8:11 PM | Comments (1)
April 21, 2007
Rounding Out The Week
Wednesday I lost my phone to find it Thursday morning in my office and in vibrate mode.
Friday I lost my wallet only to find it in the washer and wet.
Today I rode The Mighty Schwinn to Grove City High School to watch Haydn put the shot. It's just over 20 miles from my door to GCHS and I arrived just a short bit before Haydn was up.
When I got off the bike I reached into my bike bag and, still suffering from handle-bar grip, pulled out my small camera bag within which was my camera. As I went to open the bag I sort of lost control of it and it tumbled form the ground. In all honesty I've dropped the camera several times and just a couple of weeks ago I knocked of off the picnic table onto the concrete patio while it was out of the bag.
As it tumbled to the ground I didn't even try to catch it; I knew it would be safe.
I picked it up, worked the kinks out of my hand, opened the bag, took out the camera, turned it on and watched the lens zoom out, and then went to frame a shot. The LCD was broken.
The camera still works, I just can't use the LCD viewfinder so I can't review photos I've taken and I'm going to be out of luck if I ever need to change the time or date.
This first photo was taken before the camera broke.
This is a picture of my seat and two of my water bottles. I'm going to share one of my cycling secrets with you — one that I think is very important. You'll notice that I prefer the urine-colored Gatorade. The reason for this is that while I'm not certain what magic the body employs to turn fluid a urine color I assume it must require some sort of energy that the body provides in the form of calories. When you're out on the road you need all of your caloric power to be going to the pedals, not to liquid-color conversion. I figure by choosing an already-urine-colored fluid I'm providing extra pedaling energy.
I eat only chocolate colored Clif Bars for a similar reason.
You might also notice that the nose of my seat is up. I think this is a trick of the camera angle or the way the bike is sitting on the driveway. I've angled the nose of the seat down just a bit for some extra-manliness comfort. Although if it is up a bit — or even level — that would explain a thought I had while I was pedaling: Why can't they design a seat that cradles the testicles like a hand does? That always feels good. The nose of the seat could even look like a hand and the seats could be named after women.
Younger guys might want the Beyoncé while guys my age might go for the Farrah Fawcett. And I'm talking the Charlie's Angels Farrah — not the present-day kinda-crazy Farrah … you know, unless that's what you're into.
I know I'd buy a Patricia Heaton, Courtney Thorne-Smith, Amanda Tapping and a Jamie Gertz without even giving them a test sit.
Of course, if the seats were made too well, it could lead to a state in which the rider needs to take a nap which isn't good when you're on bicycle. Then again, it could just as likely trigger the I-need-to-get-out-of-here-now response, which is good when you're on a bicycle.
[Women … before any one of you even suggests a Ron Jeremy for the gals … well, just think long and hard about it (no pun intended); is that really what you want when you're trying to keep SUVs from running you down. You'll be safer with a regular seat. If you need to you can hit a railroad track hard once in a while.]
The following photos were taken post-LCD cracking.
Ahh, um. After I got home I rode the bike another 10 miles to make it a total of almost 52 miles. I celebrated by washing a big, honkin' chocolate Clif Bar down with a cool, refreshing, yellow Gatorade.
And then I had some pizza.
Posted by delmer at 8:46 PM | Comments (2)
April 20, 2007
The Wallet
My cousin now lives in the house I grew up in. When I visit I toss my keys on his fridge out of habit, just like I did all the years I lived there. Growing up, I always knew where my keys would be; when I visit my cousin I always know where they'll be.
Any other time, my keys are mostly lost.
Each morning I spend a couple of minutes looking for them and no matter how many mornings I do this I never learn. I really need to put them in the same place each evening.
You may recall from yesterday that I lost my phone.
Honest to God, if my kids lost things as much as I do I'd have to beat them to within an inch of their life. Assuming I could find a club.
This morning I couldn't find my wallet. I remembered having it yesterday at dinner but after that I had no memory of having it.
I looked all over the kitchen, upstairs (where it had no business being at all), in the living room, in the van … basically all the places I'd failed to find the phone yesterday; my reasoning was that as the wallet would know I'd searched those places yesterday it was likely to think I wouldn't go there today and would, thus, pick one of those spots to hide.
The pants the wallet had been in had been washed so I cleverly checked the washing machine. It was not there.
It wasn't in the van the second time I looked nor by the box of oats which remain on the kitchen counter.
Finally, the boys and I had to leave for school. On Fridays we always go to McDonald's and Haydn was kind enough to front me the money for today's excursion.
After I dropped the boys off I returned home to pick up The Mighty Schwinn (it's beautiful out today so I'm pedaling to work).
I checked the kitchen again and then gave the washing machine again.
I don't know where the wallet had been before but while I'd been running the kids to school it had moved itself to the washing machine. It must have figured that since I'd checked there I wouldn't look again. My dad used to use this Hide-&-Seek technique when my brother and I were little.
To further throw me off the wallet had thoroughly soaked itself.
It now sits drying on the stool that sits next to me. (Which I mention simply to have a written record of where it was I last saw it.)
Posted by delmer at 11:14 AM | Comments (2)
April 19, 2007
The Phone
I misplaced my cell phone yesterday. I remember taking it off the charger and clipping it to my pants and after that my phone memories sort of fell into the fog that normally holds things like brushing my teeth and tying my shoes; I know I've done both, I just don't remember either.
I eventually found myself sitting at a PC in the manufacturing area and wondering about my phone. I went to my office, looked for it, and when I couldn't find it I assumed I'd left it home next to the box of oats I'd meant to bring in. Just to be safe, I called the phone and listened for it to ring even though I know this is not a foolproof method of phone-finding in my case — the phone has a button on the outside that will put the phone in vibrate mode without too much contact and vibrate mode is so weak I don't even notice it when it's in my pocket (a new phone has been ordered). So, if the phone were in vibrate mode I may not be able to find it.
I didn't find the phone in the office so I went to the van and had a look. It didn't turn up there either.
And I couldn't find it at home.
I tried calling the phone and walking around the house. I called the phone again and looked in the van once more.
I took Haydn to track at 5 p.m. and on the way home drove by work as the phone just had to be there. It wasn't, even though I looked harder than I had any of the times before. I checked my desk, the servers rack and the work table going so far as to move a keyboard I knew the phone could not possibly be under.
Back home I dug around some more. At six I took Jack to baseball practice and swung by work again as I was certain the phone was in the pocket of my anti-static lab coat; it wasn't.
It wasn't in the van again and, once again, it wasn't on the kitchen table or by the box of oats.
I called Cingular to suspend the account. Suspending an account isn't as easy as it sounds. Since I lacked the account number I had to come up with three numbers that I'd either called or that had called me. In the old days — the days before I'd choose a name from a list and have a phone auto-dial — this wouldn't have been a problem; in the new days it is. I didn't know many of the numbers of the people who I may have called or who may have called me.
Still, I was sure I'd called my old cell number at least once to use the caller ID on that phone to determine the phone number of the new phone. Apparently, I hadn't. However, when I gave that number I could tell by the sound the Cingular gal made that I was close … so, I'd probably called The Wife At The Time (her number is one off mine) and I gave that number. Bingo.
I'd also called work and a woman friend.
And the account was suspended.
That night I noticed the phone was not in my bed. Just in case is snuck upstairs overnight, I checked again this morning when I made the bed. I also checked near the box of oats, the kitchen table, the van and at McDonald's.
I checked the lab coat again, the workstation in the manufacturing area, the reception desk (just in case someone turned it in), on the toilet tank in the men's room, the hook on the back of the stall door, the servers rack and the work table, once again moving the keyboard that the phone couldn't possibly be under.
About 11 a.m. a coworker came in and sat in the chair behind me, just beyond the work table. As we talked my eye fell to the floor, and to my phone. I had to have almost stepped on it each time I picked up the keyboard on the work table.
And, yes, it had somehow gone into vibrate mode.
Posted by delmer at 8:49 PM | Comments (1)
April 18, 2007
The Chiller
Last Saturday rolled in sort of cold and dreary, which was fine as the boys had a bunch of homework to do and the dreariness allowed us to knock a lot of it out.
As you know, though, the fun has to end sometime and at a point we were left with nothing homework-wise to do. Sammo thought we should go ice skating.
Sam has his own skates, but in the interest of saving time we thought we'd rent as those skates were at his mother's.
Off to The Chiller we shot.
Neither Jack nor Haydn wanted to go so Sam asked if I'd skate with him and I said I'd give it a go. And, really, skating with him was never going to be an option — he can ice skate, I can't; we may have been on the ice together at the same time but it wasn't like we were going to be sling-shotting each other around the rink (can you imagine how fast I'd be able to sling him if I could get anchored and not fall on my ass when I gave him the heave). The Iron Lotus was certainly out of the question.
We paid our rink admission — it seems like it was $12 for the both of us — and we rented skates. Sammo got hockey skates, because they look cooler I think, and I got figure skating skates because I wanted something that would let me go into a tight spin on my toes.
Then we got to the tricky part: locker rental.
The Chiller has, as do many places like this, lockers for rent. When Sam was taking lessons there a few months back I rented a locker each time we were there and I never had a problem. This time I was not so lucky.
I put my money in, loaded the locker, shut the door and tried to turn the key. It wouldn't budge. I didn't feel like complaining about it and moved to another locker. The same thing happened. It happened a third time at a different locker and that's when I finally went to the counter for help.
I am fully aware that any problem I may be encountering might be a result of something stupid I'm doing, but a locker is a pretty simple thing. Despite their simplicity I'd even read the instructions. Despite the fact I'd used them many times before I read the instructions again.
Still, when I approached the counter I said to the counter gal, "It may be that I'm just too stupid to use the lockers, but I'm having trouble with them. Could you give me a hand."
The counter gal came over and gave the key a hard turn and did some door banging, as I'd done (so my trouble-shooting methods were in line with the accepted practice).
She said, "I'll go ahead and refund your money. It was three lockers? Right?"
"Yes."
"So, a dollar and a half?"
"Wait," I said. "Are lockers fifty cents apiece. I think I've figured out the problem."
Yep. I was living in the past. And not the past of two months ago when I was at The Chiller successfully renting these same lockers. I was several years (maybe decades) in the past when I was a CIA operative leaving packages in lockers at Greyhound Bus Terminals … back when lockers were a quarter.
Anyway, with our shoes and other valuables safely locked up Sam and I hit the ice. He started skating circles around the rink and I skated to a safe place that I thought would be out of the way and stood there. In a few minutes — and I mean less than 10 — Sam would complain that the skates felt funny on his feet and we would leave.
While we didn't have time to get his skates from his mother's and make it back to The Chiller to skate that afternoon, we did have time to get the skates and make it back for the evening skate and pay another ice fee. Sammo didn't make me skate this time.
And I was able to rent a locker without assistance or embarrassment.
Posted by delmer at 7:38 AM | Comments (2)
April 17, 2007
Haggis and Scones
Jack has a heritage project due and believes he is part Scottish by way of his mother who, I thought, was part Irish. Not that it matters, he's gone full-steam ahead with the Scottish theme and is now looking for a Scottish food to take to class. He'd like to take Haggis.
The ingredients are:
Haggis
Ingredients:
Set of sheep's heart, lungs and liver (cleaned by a butcher)
One beef bung
3 cups finely chopped suet
One cup medium ground oatmeal
Two medium onions, finely chopped
One cup beef stock
One teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon pepper
One teaspoon nutmeg
½ teaspoon mace
I read about the cooking Haggis up to the point my gag reflex was engaged (and it wasn't because I don't like onions) and then I turned my attention, and Google, to other Traditional Scottish foods. The one I liked the most is Potato Scones. The ingredients are:
Potato Scones
Ingredients:
Half pound (225g) boiled and mashed potatoes
2.5oz (65g) flour
3 tablespoons melted butter
Half teaspoon salt
No hearts, no lungs, no spleen (which, while not listed above I'd seen mentioned elsewhere), and no beef bung (which I'm happy to report is not what I thought it was going to be).
We'll have to see if I can sell Jack on this idea.
Maybe I can convince Jack that I couldn't find nutmeg anywhere.
Posted by delmer at 12:55 PM | Comments (4)
April 16, 2007
The Marriage is Off
I walked into the cafeteria the other day to find some of the engineers having lunch.
"Delmer doesn't know," said the youngest as I passed.
"Know what?" I asked, stopping.
"I'm not getting married." he said.
Though I had advised the youngest against getting married, time and again, I wasn't sure this was the right moment to do any razzing. And I know stuff like this really sucks. "Man," I said with a sigh, "I'm sorry to hear that. When did this happen."
"It's been on and off for the last couple of months."
"How are you doing?"
"Pretty good," he said, "Have you got any advice?"
"He's okay," said one of the other engineers, jumping in. "He's got a date this weekend."
"Advice?" And, sensing the mood was lighter than I'd originally thought said, "When you're at the store buying lubricants for that big weekend of 'me-time' you'll want to mix it up a bit. If the clerk sees that you're buying food like a single guy but you walk out of the store with the five-gallon tub of hand lotion she's going to get suspicious. I suggest you get several different items. Some hand lotion, maybe some olive oil and some hair conditioner. Oh … hair conditioner might be the best thing for you. Nothing gets the wrinkles out like hair conditioner. And get a volumizing conditioner too … it'll be good for your self-esteem.
Posted by delmer at 7:40 PM | Comments (0)
April 15, 2007
Glib, for her pleasure
"Have you had sex recently," my endocrinologist wanted to know. And, since he's a guy, I wanted to tell him. Even without him asking. Just conversationally. I can't help it. No guy can. It's how we are. The next time you're at the Post Office, and there's a male clerk behind the counter, keep an eye on the male customers. If you listen closely one of them will eventually say something like, "I'll take a sheet of first class stamps," and as he turns from the counter he'll whisper, almost under his breath, "I got laid last night." Not because he wants to tell the clerk he got laid, he's compelled to tell the clerk by some sort of internal, primal wiring; it's something Mother Nature has saddled us with.
"Not recently," I said. I could sense his disappointment for me and, while I'm not one-hundred percent certain, I think a small tear formed at the corner of his eye.
"How were things the last time? Was everything OK then?"
"Things could have been better," I confessed. "But in all fairness I may have some mental things going on. It had been a while and the times before that had seen some failures. Last time I don't think I was as firm as I should have been but that may have been due to the fact that I was paying too much attention to what was going on with the mechanics and worrying became a problem. I mean, I seemed to be hard enough, I was just sure things could be firmer. I'm not sure she noticed. I mean, she didn't complain.
"And I realize that makes it sound like I'm full of myself, which is not what I mean."
"No," he said, "I understand."
"What I meant is I don't know that she noticed." I paused. "I guess it's really too early to say how everything is working together, the sample is still kind of small. I'd like to think I'm going to have sex again some time soon though."
"Are you running out of stamps?" asked the doc.
"Yep."
Posted by delmer at 9:04 PM | Comments (4)
April 14, 2007
April 2007 Blood Work
As regular readers know, I am a delight to be around. And I have two tumors on my pituitary gland which cause my prolactin to be high and this, in turn, causes my testosterone to be low.
I take Dostinex, or recently Cabergoline (the generic form, which I've found to be just as good), to control the prolactin and this has permitted my testosterone to reach levels that allow me to, once again, appreciate The Three Stooges.
The most interesting thing about my recent blood work is that my hormones are staying in line even as my cabergoline dosage is dropped. It was dropped again following the most recent trip to the endocrinologist and I'm now down to .5 mg twice a week.
As often happens during my visits with the endo he asked me if I'd had sex recently as he likes to know how the tools are doing; I told him I hadn't knocked boots in a while. He then asked if I'd been masturbating.
"Did someone in reception complain," I asked.
Yes. That's a joke I've made before. I've repeated it here for new readers.
A summary of my hormone problems and treatment history follows with a bit more info about the most recent blood work. Immediately following are links to:
Dostinex Recall: Basically, it was a packaging issue and the generic works just as well (for me, anyway).
Heart Valve Problems with Dostinex / Cabergoline Links:
My disjointed entry
NY Times (which now requires registration)
Michael J Fox's Website
A summary of my experience with low testosterone follows — it needs some serious editing. The blood work summary has been snipped from the text but can be found at the link below.
Hormone Troubles Summary:
April 13, 2007 Notes: I’ve been taking Cabergoline, the generic form of Dostinex for roughly 8 months. My last blood draw, in December of ‘06 was taken on a Tuesday when the vast majority (and I’m pretty sure ALL) other draws were taken on Thursdays before that day’s meds were taken; I take Cabergoline on Sundays and Thursdays. The last blood draw showed Prolactin at 6.9 on a Tuesday when the prior draw, from a Thursday in October ‘06, was 7.4.
The April 13 draw has Prolactin at 7.5 ng/mL (where the normal range is 2.1 -17.7) which is .1 higher than the October ’06. So, the Prolactin is up a hair but it should be noted that in January my meds were dropped to .75 mg twice a week from 1 mg. twice a week.
It may be worth noting, as well, that at my peak I was taking 1.5 mg twice a week (three Tic-Tac sized pills twice weekly for a total of 6 pills). I asked the doc why it would take 1.5 mg to get the prolactin in range initially but a good deal less than that to keep it under control — he told me this isn’t uncommon and that it often takes higher doses to bring a problem under control than it does to keep it in line. He also said there is a chance the Dostinex may be shrinking the tumors and some folks reach a point where they can go off the meds (which I’d read in this group before). He * does not * think that my weight loss has anything to do with the way the meds interact with my body.
Speaking of weight. I’ve gained 8 pounds since December. I’m also wearing a pair of jeans that I purchased that were too tight in the legs and waist then and that I’d try on once a week to monitor my weight. So, I weigh a bit more but I’m thinner in the thighs and belly. The weight is probably a fair amount of water and isn’t anything I’m worried about. I do lift weights at least 3 times a week, and I cycle most other nights, but as much as I’d like to believe it’s 8 pounds of solid muscle, (or a pound or two of added penis) I’m just not that stupid. (A little bit could be muscle I guess.)
December 12, 2006 Notes:
I've been taking the Cabergoline (generic form of Dostinex) for roughly 4 months. Blood was drawn on a Tuesday morning and I last took cabergoline Sunday morning — so I sort of screwed up, I normally have blood drawn when I have the least amount of meds in me. I've been taking 1 mg twice a week. My prolactin was the lowest it has been; again, this blood draw was taken 'earlier' than normal.
October 23, 2006 Notes:
I’ve been taking the Cabergoline (generic form of Dostinex) for two months. Blood was drawn on a Monday morning and I last took cabergoline Thursday morning. I’ve been taking 1 mg twice a week - so, two things have changed since my last blood draw; I’m taking less cabergoline and I’m taking the generic. My prolactin has gone up just a tad.
August 23, 2006 Notes:
I turned 46 on August 23rd. What better way to celebrate a birthday than going to the Endo and having some blood taken? This blood was drawn on a Wednesday morning … about 24 hours before my next dose of Dostinex.
I’ve dropped 20 pounds since my March 6 visit to the endo (The May 12 notes came after a trip to LabCorp to have blood tested between endo visits).
I have recently read some posts in a couple of Pituitary Message Boards about people having trouble losing weight (or reporting unexplained weight gain) while their prolactin is high. The postings I read were made by women; I don’t know if the weight problem I had was a low-T or high-prolactin thing … probably a bit of both. I am convinced that the trouble I had losing weight was hormone related.
I know I keep moving this date around, but I honestly think I’ll have the gyno surgery after my kid’s fall soccer is over.
If I had a prolactinoma - a prolactin secreting tumor - Dostinex might shrink the tumor. My endo isn’t sure I have a prolactinoma - he knows the tumors are the problem, but he isn’t sure they are secreting prolactin as he would have expected it to be higher than it was if this were the case. So, meds may not cause tumor shrinkage in my case.
Dostinex is currently under a recall of some sort and on backorder. In December of ’05 Par Pharmaceutical came out with a generic and I’ll be taking that.
With a decrease in my meds, from 1.5 mg twice a week to 1.25 mg twice a week, my Prolactin dropped from 8.9 to 7.1 (2.1-17.7). My T is currently 706 (241-827) up from a low of (post-Androgel use) 36 (300 - 1000) that I adjust to 29 (for the 241-827 scale … I really don’t know how accurate that is). The more common (non-Androgel-influenced) low was 146 (300-1000) that I scale to 118 (241-827 … again, not sure of the accuracy.)
May 12, 2006 Notes:
My Dostinex was cut back to 1.25 mg twice a week in March. Blood was drawn on May 11. I had last had Dostinex on May 7 - so I was as far between doses as I get. From March 23rd to May 12 I dropped 11 pounds. Shirtless the gyno is spectacular and I expect to have it addressed fairly soon; I’d like to go swimming with my boys this summer.
Regarding my gyno, and I don’t mean to brag here, but if you go to:
http://www.webplastics.com/male.htm you’ll see some samples. I beat either of those guys.
March 23, 2006 Notes:
This blood was drawn Thursday morning before I had taken my Dostinex. I take Dostinex Sunday and Thursday - so this would have been at the tail end of Sunday’s meds (a true wordsmith would have said that better).
What do we know? Without any change in my meds my Prolactin continued to drop. It’s gone from 15.9 to 8.9 while I’ve been taking 1.5 mg twice a week.
I’ve dropped 20 pounds since October of 04. I’ve dropped 16 pounds since October 05. Which gives me a loss of 4 pounds for the period of time between Oct 04 and Oct 05. Roughly speaking, I dropped 60 pounds the first year, 40 the second, and 20 the last 1.3 years; 16 the past five months.
Even though I lost just four pounds over a 12-month period I did drop several pants sizes. I wish I would have kept track of that.
The weight is important as I thought my problem, back several years ago, might be weight related. Also, for the longest time, no matter what I tried I couldn’t lose any weight, and what I did lose came back far too easy. Lately I just accept the fact that tomorrow when I wake up I’ll be just a bit smaller than I was today.
I met with a plastic surgeon in November to discuss gyno surgery.
*** Notes from October 05 and before ***
What’s New (from the post 4 months back): I’ve been taking 1.5 mg Dostinex twice a week since February 2004 - in other words, the last 5 blood tests. My meds haven’t changed but my condition continues to improve.
My weight hasn’t changed enough to mention. I continue to go to the gym. I have dropped a pants size. I assume I have a bit more muscle. I guess that would make sense.
I put this together to track my progress and thought I'd post it just in case it would be of interest to others. I don’t think I’m fascinating -- I just know that when I was trying to figure out what was wrong with me I read everything I could find. Maybe this will help someone.
Regular readers of the group will know that I have trouble being concise; in keeping with that tradition a boatload of text follows.
In July of 2001 I found I had low Testosterone: 147 ng/dL (scale 300 to 1000). Without doing any additional bloodwork my Primary Care Physician prescribed Androgel (Sep 2001). I don't recall the dosage - it was one packet, which I believe is 5 grams. After a month my T had climbed to 350. I can't say my sex drive went through the roof, but there were times during the day that I could feel "stirrings" for no reason - not I-need-to-have-sex-NOW! stirrings ... just something new going on. I told the doc I really didn't notice a big increase in my sex drive. He upped my prescription to 1.5 packs of Androgel. I applied it for two more weeks and quit as I hadn't felt I'd adequately researched the problem.
I thought some of my problem might be my weight. I weighed something over 360 and thought that being fat might cause low T. In January I started going to the gym and made a great effort to drop some weight. At some point I picked up Lou Schuler's "The Testosterone Advantage Plan," and tried to improve my condition through diet and exercise. FWIW, Schuler makes no claims that diet and exercise will cause dramatic leaps in Testosterone levels such as I needed. Likewise, obesity can affect T levels but, again, probably not to the extent I was being affected by something.
I had a physical on June 7, 2002. I went in feeling pretty good. I felt I had more muscle mass (even though I was still a big fat guy), as I was stronger and as I said, I'd been paying more attention to what I ate.
The doc did some blood work. And the results: My cholesterol dropped
to 187 (from 199) and my Testosterone dropped to 36 (that is not a
typo: 36) on a scale of 300 to 1000 being normal. This would have been 11 months after I'd been diagnosed with low T and about 7 months after I'd discontinued use of Androgel (I started Androgel in September 2001 and used it for 6 weeks. So, I should have discontinued use by November. I don't have solid dates.)
Could Androgel use have caused my body to quit T production for more than 6 months? Was the test wrong?
My Primary Care Physician suggested I start Androgel again. I had stumbled across ASI and asked for the following bloodwork based on info found here: SHBG, FSH, Testosterone, Estradiol, Prolactin, TSH, LH, Free T, Total Estrogens and DHEA.
My PCP was initially reluctant to order the bloodwork. I can't really blame him; docs must get tired of patients coming in self-diagnosed based on things they see on TV. After I asked him how long he'd been my doctor ("A long time," he said) and how often I came in ("Hardly ever") he consented. My T came in at 146 (300-1000) and my Prolactin 56.2 (1.6-18.8). So, a month after I had a reading of 36 I'd rebounded to my pre-Androgel levels. Again, was the 36 test wrong? Was it just a timing thing?
Following the T reading of 36 I'd made an appointment to see an Endocrinologist; the appointment was set 3 months out and I asked to be put on a cancellation list. I got a call from the endo's staff just a day or two after the above bloodwork was done. (The July 02 and August 02 bloodwork are about a week apart.) I was able to see the endo in 6-weeks time rather than the original 3 months.
The endo ordered an MRI; I had the MRI in August and received the results 9/3/02. It turned up two small (3 and 5 mm) tumors on my pituitary gland. (During a later appointment my endo would tell me that while ("whilst," for some of our international readers) the tumors were certainly the cause of my high prolactin, he wasn't certain they were prolactin-secreting tumors; he would expect my prolactin to be higher if they were. In other posts I've stated I had 'very high' prolactin. Well, I've since run across folks with much higher prolactin levels than I have. So, mine are just high while theirs are ungodly high ('wicked' high for the New Englanders.)) I remember my weight at this time being 354 as the table-weight for the MRI was 350 … the tech put me on the table, but the fit was going to be such that I was eventually sent to an open MRI. (As an aside, on TV an MRI normally takes about as long as a commercial for Chevy Trucks. The guy goes into the MRI. You see a truck commercial. The guy comes out. In real life they are 30 minutes or so. I guess it wouldn't make for good TV to show the whole thing. And yet, Wife Swap is still on. Go figure.)
My endo prescribed Parlodel (Bromocriptine) on 9/3/02. I took it at bedtime - 1/2 pill for the first two weeks and increasing to a full pill after that. Pills were 2.5 mg. Dosage was doled out like this to help the body adjust and avoid any side affects.
During the time I was on Bromocriptine I forgot, twice, to take the dose at bedtime and instead took it the next morning. I had a bit of nervousness and light-headedness both times. Nothing that would keep me from taking it during the day again - just enough so that I knew something was different.
November 6, 2002 I had my first visit to the endo after starting Bromocriptine. My T had gone up to 138 (241-827) and my Prolactin had dropped to 38 (2.1 -17.7) My endo doubled the Bromocriptine (from 2.5 to 5 mg nightly).
In December 2002 (12/18/02) I started taking Dostinex. I was started on 1/2 pill (.25mg) and eased up to a full pill (.5mg) in order to allow my body to adjust to the medicine and to minimize side affects. I would take (and continue to take) Dostinex twice a week.
According to: http://www.pfizer.com/download/uspi_dostinex.pdf
dosage should start at .25 mg twice a week and may be increased up to 1 mg twice a week according to the patient's serum prolactin level. I currently take 1.5 mg twice a week, so I'm a bit past the norm. Another site I visited suggested a person's body weight may affect the dose of Dostinex needed.
The PDF referenced above lists several adverse reactions that may occur. Twice while taking Dostinex I developed nausea and in both cases thought I was getting the flu. Shortly after the flu thought passed through my mind I remembered that I'd had Dostinex earlier and that I might be having a reaction to the medicine. I was right in both cases; the flu never hit. I haven't had a negative reaction of any sort in well over a year.
In previous postings I remarked that despite the fact I had low T I didn't seem to suffer from any of the conditions associated with it aside from low libido. Looking back, that was not the case.
ED:
I mentioned early on that I didn't have ED. That was not the case. I had sex so infrequently that I didn't notice. Any performance issues I had when having sex (and I had them) I attributed to other factors (stress, being tired, etc.).
Depression:
I certainly had depression. I didn't recognize it until it was mostly over. I probably still have some. The gyno is enough to cause it.
Weight Gain:
Let's face it people, Ethiopians with hormone disorders don't balloon up to 370 pounds. I've got to admit I had some fun putting a bit of the weight on. It did seem that I went from 330 to 360 almost overnight though, without any big lifestyle changes. And actually, after 308 I sort of lose track of things (I was in a 30-and-over basketball league at 308). When I started trying to lose weight I found it very hard to do and impossible to keep off. I had dropped to 354 for my first MRI (8/02) and was at 370 in December. (That is not a solid 370. We have a medical scale at work that goes to 350. With some measuring I figured that pushing both weights on the scale to their limits equaled 363 lbs. When I stepped on the scale I 'judged' that the speed with which the weighing mechanism moved to its upper limit - and the accompanying thud it made - equaled about 7 pounds. And 370 is easier to remember than 368.) What I do know about my weight is that just under two years after starting Dostinex, I've lost 101 pounds.
Life in General:
I lacked a "lust for life," as another poster said. I was sort of blah about a lot of things. If you've listened to the Testosterone episode of This American Life I was sort of like the guy in the first segment. He suggests that while he was blah, there was a peace that came with it. Our experiences are different in that he didn't have three small children to look after and his significant other lived out of state and visited only on weekends. He realizes his experiences differ from the vast majority of others with his problem.
His comment "it doesn't matter if you have nothing, if you want nothing," is reminiscent of a something I used to say: Not having sex when you don't want sex sure beats the pants of being 18 and wanting sex all the time and not being able to get it.
You may be allele to listen to a Real Audio recording of the above at:
http://207.70.82.73/pages/descriptions/02/220.html
If not you can buy it at www.audible.com for $3.95.
Gynecomastia:
I've got a nice case. It only gets better (that is, more noticeable) as I get thinner. I will have to have this corrected surgically.
How did I miss the warning signs?:
Well, aside from the weight gain I didn't recognize any outward signs. And the weight I attributed to other things. Inability to lose weight I thought was age-related. I had never heard that men could have low-testosterone problems so it was nothing I considered. I thought the gyno was fat-guy-flabby-chest.
I realized I didn't enjoy things as much as I used to, but thought it was stress and would eventually get better.
I compare the whole episode to buying new tennis shoes. Each day you wear your sneakers they break down a little bit and don't feel as good as they did the day before. But, the breakdown is so gradual that you don't notice. At some point you buy new shoes and when you put them on your realize just how much better they feel than the old shoes do - not that you ever noticed the old shoes feeling bad.
I don't recall going to bed one night feeling great and waking up the next day not feeling great. At the time my problem was developing I had three little boys, and for years (literally) neither my wife nor I were getting much sleep. One of us would sleep in on Saturday, the other on Sunday; those were our catch-up days. When the time came that everybody was sleeping through the night - my wife and I included - I probably felt better than I had, but not as well as I should have. I just didn't notice.
Now that I feel better, I can see just how bad I felt.
Today -- Overall I think I handle day-to-day life better. I think I enjoy things more. I feel more relaxed.
I may still have some ED. I don't know. And it may be caused as much by my mental state as anything else right now. I am recently divorced (Isn't that how life goes … just as your bloodwork starts coming back better, your test facility divorces you. <- Yes, I've made that joke here before. But, I like it.), and, like I said the gyno is a bummer.
Dostinex vs Bromocriptine:
Bromocriptine did almost nothing for me. I've read other posts in which is it very effective. I've not had an adverse reaction to either Bromocriptine or Dostinex past those noted above - and none were severe enough to warrant concern.
I paid $7.00 for each prescription of Bromocriptine. Depending on the number of pills I received, my insurance paid between $46.99 (30 tablets) and $98.74 for 60 tablets. About $1.76 per tablet.
I pay $45.00 monthly for Dostinex. My insurance, for 25 tablets, pays $730. The cost per pill is $31.00.
Kroger was kind enough to print out my prescriptions covering my Dostinex and Bromocriptine. Thus far my insurance carrier and I have paid $13,616 for both medicines. Mostly Dostinex. Mostly my insurance carrier. (Going back to August 2002) [Today is 10/19/05: If that figure was current 4 months ago then it would now be closer to $16,500)
Below are links to some of the posts I found helpful. When I found I had low T I read through everything I could find. Even the things that would eventually turn out to not apply to my situation contained a lot of helpful info.
In cases where I reference a post I made, my questions aren't as helpful as the answers provided. As you Google the Groups click the Complete Thread link to see the replies associated with the link below. (The link I provide is shorter than that that brings up the entire string of related posts)
T, Obesity and Ramblings (My first post to ASI)
http://groups.google.com/groups?hl=en&lr=&selm=ps9rjukkp6svgdni16qn6kjgt9s952oqgs%404ax.com
Sin Loi's (our current Muerta) post responsible for the 'lost lust for life' comment
http://groups.google.com/groups?hl=en&lr=&selm=9ffQ8.86805%24nZ3.39237%40rwcrnsc53
Another poster with pituitary tumors - prolactin as high as 166
http://groups.google.com/groups?hl=en&lr=&selm=tqumnuo1o89jjusgl5ms9f3ji961u8mlck%404ax.com
David Zolt has a series of primers that can be found in Google Groups. There are 7. Google the Groups using the following string - change the 1 to 2 through 7 to find them all:
david zolt + "1 of 7" group:alt.support.impotence
Don't forget to pick up a copy of Dr. Eugene Shippen's book, "The Testosterone Syndrome." Available at Amazon.com
Posted by delmer at 10:56 PM | Comments (0)
April 13, 2007
The Trip Out West Part XV: Red Rocks
If you are just coming in to the story, and you want to read all the good stuff about going to jail, you should really start at The Beginning.
Red Rocks is a park/amphitheater located not far from Denver — a better way to describe it would be to say that it is nestled in the Rocky Mountain Foothills fifteen miles west of Denver. That's how the PR folks at Red Rocks say it and it has a nice sound to it. Of course, it may leave some people wondering what Nestles has to do with outdoor concerts. (Alright, maybe I'm the only one that will wonder that and only because I once gave someone an e-mail password that was 'nestles,' like the jingle and, whenever I had to troubleshoot that account I'd ask for the password and they'd say 'nestles' like 'snuggles up against'')
So, Red Rocks is snuggled up against the Rocky Mountain Foothills. U2 has performed there, I've seen their video on MTV. Joan Jett has performed there, I've seen her autograph backstage. Spyro Gyra has performed there, I was once part of their advance sound crew.
I believe Kent may have driven to Red Rocks in the rig with our trucker friend. I remember, for sure, that on the way up to the amphitheater area we drove through a natural rock formation that formed a tunnel and the semi couldn't make it due to the stacks on one side being too tall. We all ended up in the car the last bit of the drive.
We parked, got out of the car, walked into the amphitheater, and were confronted buy a guy who asked, "Who are you guys?"
"We're the advance sound crew for Spyro Gyra," said Kent. "They sent us to check out the acoustics."
"Okay," said the guy.
And we proceeded to knock around backstage.
A lot of the artists who had performed at Red Rocks had autographed the walls in the dressing rooms. Joan Jett is the only name I remember.
In one of the rooms we got into a refrigerator, found some cold cuts and ate them. In retrospect this seems like a bad idea — I'd probably be sick for a week if I did something like that today.
After a while, and convinced the acoustics were okay and that Red Rocks would be a fine venue for Spyro Gyra to play, we departed.
Posted by delmer at 9:31 PM | Comments (2)
April 12, 2007
Caffeine Free
I've been caffeine-free since Monday morning. Mostly, anyway, maybe some has snuck in.
I decided I was getting way too much caffeine, in the way of soft drinks and coffee, and thought I should do something about it since the amount of money I give to Pepsi and Coke approaches obscene levels.
I've done this several times in the past, most notably when I lived in Massachusettes and went 6 months without any pop. I believe that reign of caffeine-freeness ended when I was at the movie theater with a female friend and we had popcorn and needed something to wash it down.
The most surprising thing about this recent endeavour to go caffeine free is that I did not get the caffeine headache I expected. There have been days when I've gone without coffee or pop until just after noon and a caffeine headache sets in. This time there was nothing, and it isn't like I weaned myself from caffeine gradually.
I was never much of a pop drinker until I worked for a place that had free pop and a water cooler. Getting pop was a lot easier than waiting for a cup to fill so I always chose to have a Diet Coke. Prior to that whenever I was at anybody's house I'd always have a big glass of water that I'd carry around. I think it was more of a comfort thing than a thirst thing then — it gave me something to do with my hands and somehow that made me more comfortable
Last night it was my intention to have dinner and go to the gym (or garage, in my case). I baked a bunch of chicken breasts the other day (I decided to take a break from boiling my meat) and nuked one along with a potato. I had dinner, put the dishes in the sink, sat in the recliner, made a call, and went to sleep.
I woke up just before 9 p.m., watched a little TV and was in bed at 11 o'clock.
So, I didn't really get anything done, but I was very rested this morning.
I think the nap and early bedtime was directly related to the reduced number of stimulants I've been getting.
Caffeine is a vasoconstrictor and can lead to weak errections. Normally I'd go into great detail about that — you know how I am — but today I feel sort of depressed and not in the least bit funny. I do know that when I was younger I could pop the top off a Heineken bottle with my foreskin and I seem to have lost that skill over the years; but that may be due to an increase in common sense moreso than any vasoconstricting that's going on. Mostly, though, I'm just making it up
OH! Oh, oh. I went to see my endocrinologist bright and early today. You know what this means — more blood work and some fine weekend reading for you as I post the most recent results. Start chilling the wine now.
And while I'm babbling on, and since I mentioned my dishes a little bit ago, last night at dinner I drank raspberry Kool Aid from a green tumbler. That morning I'd had Raisin Bran in the same tumbler. The night before I'd had Raisin Bran as an after-dinner snack in the same tumbler (I had some milk that was about to go bad and needed to get through it). The day before I'd done all of my driniking out of the same tumbler. The point I'm tyring to make is that my kids departed Friday and in that time I've gone through one glass. They return tomorrow and I'm betting that by Saturday night every glass in the house will have been used.
Posted by delmer at 5:12 PM | Comments (0)
April 11, 2007
The Trip Out West Part IV: Coors
If you are just coming in to the story, you should really start at The Beginning.
Quite possibly the second day we were in Boulder we decided to take The Coors Tour.
Coors used to the best beer in the world. The beer that you just had to have. The beer that showed just how incredibly cool you were. The beer you couldn't get in Ohio.
The reason you couldn't get it in Ohio is that it wasn't pasteurized (or something) and making the long, long trip (even without stops to spend the night in jail, get the starter fixed, or to have 1/18th of your Big Rig's wheels replaced) was more than the beer could take.
And since you couldn't get it in Ohio that made it the best beer in the world. That and Lone Star.
I'm not sure if we could get Coors in Ohio in 1984, but I do remember that Kent, Tom and I thought the tour was a very good idea. Even early in the day.
Once again this was 23 years ago and my memory is sort of foggy. From the tour I remember that Coors was always shipped cold which made me wonder a bit about the warm cases I'd seen in aisles (which leads me to believe we could get Coors in Ohio in '84 as that was where I'd likely seen warm cases.) The only reason the warm case-thing is important is that guys would always swear that once beer got cold and then warm it was bad and undrinkable. I never bought into this as I knew for a fact that a can of beer that had been warmed to almost exploding as it rolled around in a car trunk for weeks was still drinkable.
I also remember being in the tasting room after the tour. In the good old days — not long before we took the tour — the tasting room had a free-for-all feel to it and a person could drink just about as many beers as they wanted. When we were there people were limited to one each of the different flavors of which there were several. I recall that one of the beers was something they were putting together for Oktoberfest. I also recall that the beer pourers were women about my age and that at least one of them was a brunette; we'll pretend she was pouring the Oktoberfest beer.
"I'd like to try another one of the Oktoberfest beers, " I said as I walked up to her tap, the remnants of the previous Oktoberfest beer still sloshing around in my glass.
"No. You don't want to try another Oktoberfest beer … you want to try an Oktoberfest beer. If you say another Oktoberfest beer, I'll think you've already had one and you're only allowed to have one of each. If you say an Oktoberfest beer, I'll think it's your first one."
And it would seem she'd be kind enough to think that even if the crowd was small. It was like we were on the same team.
While we were on the tour we met up with a truck driver, about our age, who was waiting for his trailer to be loaded with Coors. It was going to be a couple of hours before it was ready and he seemed like a nice guy, so we asked if he wanted to go to Red Rocks with us.
Kent, Tom and I loaded up the car, the trucker fired up his rig and we headed out. Of course, we stopped at a carryout to pick up a case of Silver Bullets on the way.
Posted by delmer at 4:28 PM | Comments (2)
April 10, 2007
The Trip Out West Part XIII: We're in Boulder
If you are just coming in to the story, you should really start at The Beginning.
It seems that Tom and I arrived in Boulder at an early hour. Our buddy Kent said he lived behind the Fire and Cop Shop, which Tom and I thought was a made-up name until we drove by it.
I'm pretty sure we arrived just in time for breakfast because I distinctly remember Kent opening the fridge and offering us something to eat. That something was a pan of spaghetti. Maybe you're familiar with a commercial from a couple of years ago that went something like "from the freezer, to the oven, to the table" as the way of demonstrating the incredible usefulness and versatility of some sort of cookware; it was supposed to have a revolutionary feel to it. Believe me, it was nothing new, single guys had/have been cooking like that for years. Kent's spaghetti had been cooked in a pan, sauce had been poured into it, he'd eaten what he wanted from it and then put it in the fridge, and the next day he offered his buddies leftovers out of the same pan and with the same fork he'd used to cook with.
We passed on the spaghetti and had something else. I'll bet we had beer too; we were at that age and it probably seemed like the right thing to do given the trip we'd had.
I remember we went to the gym that first day. Kent had some things he had to take care of there and Tom and I tagged along.
That may have been the same night we went to Tulips and for the sake of making this even the least bit interesting we'll pretend it was.
Kent had at least two roommates. One was named Joey, who was affectionately called "fatness" by Kent though I would never have thought Joey was fat. The other roommate may have been Joey's brother, and I include him here only to remind myself of how much of the trip I remember.
Anyway.
Joey, Kent, Tom and I went to a big bar called Tulips. I don't know what to compare Tulips to. Had it been the late 70's the place would have been called a disco. In the mid-80's is was a big bar with a dance floor. I'll bet it had the disco ball.
At one point Tom, Fatness, and I were standing around talking. Kent was chatting up a young lady right next to us and her girlfriend was talking with us. Kent suggested to the young lady that he had a collection of etchings in the car that he thought she might want to see and after a bit of talking she agreed that it sounded like a good idea. Kent and the young lady headed toward the door.
"She's good as f*cked," said Fatness.
"What?!" exclaimed the girlfriend.
"If she goes to the car with Kent, she's as good as f*cked."
And with that the girlfriend shot off to rescue her friend from Kent's evil clutches.
Tom looked over at Joey, "That was kind of cold, Fatness."
"Hey, if I ain't f*ckin', nobody's f*ckin," Fatness said drawing out "nobody" to give it some oomph.
In a rare turn of events, I'd prove Fatness wrong later that evening.
I remember the girl's first and last names. She was a blonde. I know she was moving to San Diego to do graphic design work. And I'm pretty sure I still have her business card in a box somewhere. I also remember that her girlfriend had a two-seater convertible and that it was tight with all three of us sitting in the front seats.
I don't remember how we decided to go back to Kent's, I've never really had what I'd call a good line. I did have the accent that was uncommon for that area, and I put a lot of stock into things like that. I also can't for the life of me think of how we got back to Kent's — Tulips wasn't just down the street, it had required some driving to get there, and my direction-giving skills sort of suck. I'm thinking the girlfriend with the sports car must have known where the Fire and Cop Shop was.
So, I exercised one of the guy laws and deserted my friends.
Moments later they'd leave the same bar to head over to visit some girls Kent knew.
Kent knocked on the door to the girls' apartment and when the door was answered introduced Tom as one of his friends from Ohio.
"That's funny," said the girl, "He doesn't look black." Kent had told the girls that Tom and I were male models for Ebony Magazine.
"Where's the other guy?" she wondered aloud.
"He got lucky," said Tom.
Do you see how this works? Kent had convinced a young lady to spend some time in the car with him and the young lady's girlfriend felt it was her duty to save the lass.
Me, I ditched my buddies to run off with a blonde gal and:
A: They didn't feel the need to protect me and chase us down.
B: They referred to the event as "lucky" in a later conversation.
Posted by delmer at 9:14 PM | Comments (2)
April 9, 2007
The Trip Out West Part XII: Westward Ho!
If you are just coming in to the story, you should really start at The Beginning. I'm not kidding. Some of you have been cheating and reading things out of order. You don't think I know, but I do. As an artist I must insist that this behavior stop. Would you just slap the needle down anywhere on Dark Side of The Moon? No! Because you know Pink Floyd had something in mind when they put that masterpiece together.
Is What's a Delmer Look Like any less a masterpiece?
I'm glad you're on board.
Anyway, when we last left off, Tom had sprung me from jail and we were headed out of Missouri.
And right into Kansas.
Kansas looks to be about 250 miles wide which should be about 4 hours of driving. I have no memory of it at all and I'm thinking we probably drove through it at night. When I was in France in 1976 there was a group of kids from Emporia, Kansas who were part of our tour. Dodge City's in Kansas and I think that's where Gunsmoke supposedly took place.
That's all I got. I'm sure Kansas is very nice. I didn't get arrested there but, then again, I'm not sure I got out of the car.
But let's move on.
Just on the other side of Kansas is Colorado and that's where we were heading. We'll arrive there tomorrow but I'd like to leave you with a song our buddy Kent wrote about the trip Tom and I were on.
Delmer and Tom didn't get too far
When they lost the wheel off their car,
They spun out, almost hit the rail,
Next thing you know ol' D's in jail,
Oh, oh, Colorado
Something something that rhymes with whit
Next thing they needed was a starter kit,
Ordinary white boys would have quit,
But these two boys gonna drive all night
Gonna buy another case of IC Light.
Oh, oh Colorado
We need to make note of two things in the song. First, the only thing I remember about the missing lyric is that it comes up in the song out of sequence with the way things happened. It came to me as I was typing that last line and has been added.
So we're left with this: Back when I was drinking Iron City Light Beer it came in a manlier looking bottle. That graphic makes it look like Zima. I'm sure it's still a manly beer — the words Iron and City, especially when used that close together reek of manliness.
Posted by delmer at 3:27 PM | Comments (1)
April 8, 2007
Saturday, Cold and Snowy
Yesterday started out sunny enough and from my bed I could tell it was going to climb to about 42 F. I just knew it.
I figured I'd have breakfast at Mel's and then take The Mighty Schwinn out for 15 miles.
First, though, I wanted to edit the annual Christmas video. Each year, since 1993, we've taped the first bit of Christmas on the same tape and now, when we watch it, it's as if the boys are growing right before our eyes. It's really cute.
It took about two hours to edit the video and when I hit the back door it was snowing hard and it looked and felt cold. I drove the two blocks to Mel's and had lunch. I then drove to Play it Again Sports and bought a shirt and then made another stop at Colonial Music to buy guitar strings, a tuner, and a couple of books. My final stop took me to Packrat Comics where I picked up some things they had waiting for me. (I just reread this before posting …some things?! they had waiting for me. When you read that what did you think might be waiting for me there? Did you think Comic Books, because that's what they were.)
Back home I considered taking the bike out. Then I considered the cold and the wind and thought better of it. And then it started snowing again and I had to do it.
Do you really care to hear about a ride? They're mostly all the same so I'll just hit the highlights.
It was 30F (-2 C) according to the bank I passed. Winds were 18 mph with gusts to 24 mph giving us a wind chill of 19 F (-7 C).
Going down Davidson Road, on the way out and with the wind at my back, I hit 33.5 mph and I'm pretty sure I could have hit 35 if I wanted to do some extra cranking. However, I was sure I didn't want to hit the ground at 35 mph and wasn't confident that the extra cranking wouldn't toss my balance. Oh, and at 28 mph I ran over something with both tires that I hoped wasn't metal and sharp and this sort of shook my confidence.
On the way back, the wind was in my face. Naturally.
And at one point the snow was coming down hard enough that it made it hard to see. (Mom, it was blowing hard enough that it wasn't going to stick and make the roads slippery, and it only snowed the first two minutes and last five minutes of the ride.)
Posted by delmer at 12:44 AM | Comments (5)
April 7, 2007
USB in Great Literature
I finished reading The Protégé by Stephen Frey the other day. I've read almost everything eReader sells by Frey — and certainly everything that's under $7.00 (I don't know what it is about me, I can't bring myself to pay more than $7.00 for a book that exists only in digital format. For $7.00 and above I want something a bit more solid. Something I could stick under a wobbly table leg if I had to.)
Like all of his books, The Protégé, was very good and well researched.
Well researched right up until the main character comes across a flash drive. Most flash drives I run across are like the one is this picture and I've also heard them referred to as Jump Drives, ThumbDrives and USB Drives as they connect to a PC through a USB port. I have an IDE Flash drive at the office that attaches via an IDE cable which means you'd have to open the computer to install it.
We'll assume Stephen Frey was referring to a USB drive.
The main character has a the flash drive, and ends up is his deceased (by about 15 years) fathers' study with a computer; nowhere does it say how old the computer is. He tries to use the computer to read the flash drive but "the hard drive was too old and the memory was insufficient to handle the transfer."
So, the computer was new enough to have a USB Port. The operating system was new enough that it didn't ask for drivers to be installed when the flash drive was inserted; I'm pretty sure this makes it XP (I don't remember how Windows 2000 reacts when a flash drive is installed, but I think it asks for drivers.) But it didn't have enough memory to handle the transfer.
This would have been an easier-to-write paragraph had Frey said something like "the freakin' old computer in his father's study lacked the necessary USB port."
USB 1.0 was released in January of 1996
Ah. I won't go on. It just caught my eye.
I guess it could have been a Mac of some sort … wait … no … had it been a Mac I'm sure it would have just worked. (The brainwashed would have us believe as much, anyway.)
Posted by delmer at 10:33 AM | Comments (2)
April 6, 2007
Large Cycling Jersey
Today it was 30 F (probably about -1 C) outside and we had snow showers. A few weeks ago when it was cold and dreary all the time I would hop on the bike and ride it through town; once I was out when it was 20 F and regretted that it wasn't a bit colder, just so I could say I'd ridden when it was 9 F or whatever.
Now that we've had a couple of warm days the thought of riding in the cold lacks any appeal. I'll likely ride tomorrow regardless of temperature.
You've all seen the Captain America jersey I sometimes wear. The jersey, a Pearl Izumi, is made of super-special material that magically wicks moisture away from the body helping to keep the rider dry. That material is polyester — the same material that helped leisure-suited disco dancers keep their cool back in the 70s. (It's hard to score chicks when you come off the dance floor looking like a big sweat ball … of course, it's hard to score chicks when you come off the floor in a leisure suit these days. So, it would seem that women have a choice to make — hooking up with a sweaty guy or a guy lacking any fashion sense. Yes, it's hard being a girl. Is it any wonder, based on my research, that lesbianism has almost doubled the last two years? (My research consists of comparing the amount of Hot Lesbian Action spam I get against MILF and Man on Woman spam I receive. Recently I've been receiving lot more Hot Lesbian Action mail which can only mean that there are more Hot Lesbians out there seeking action than there were not too long ago. There are also a surprising number of hot single women in Hilliard who want to meet me, based, again, on mail I receive from them; as small as Hilliard is you'd think I'd run into one of these women at Target sometime. Generally speaking I'm not that hard to find — if you were looking for me don't you think you'd start at Mel's Diner?))
Where was I?
The Captain America jersey is a Pearl Izumi. It fits well. It's comfortable. The tag says Made In America (Would the Captain wear anything less?), and it has nothing to do with Marvel Comics or the Captain — it's all about Williamsburg, Virginia.
There is not tag in the jersey to indicate size but, I now, think it is an XXL.
Which brings us to the reason of this posting: To help the big and tall man pick a cycling jersey that fits. Assuming that big and tall man is 6'4" tall and 230 pounds.
You may remember that I used to weigh 370 pounds. When I weighed that I used to buy XXXL shirts. I now weigh 230 and typically buy XL shirts, or large shirts if they come in a tall version. (So, I've dropped two sizes after losing 140 pounds. Don't you think it would kill a woman to lose 140 pounds and go down only two dress sizes? My pants size dropped more significantly.)
I think it was last fall that I bought my first cycling jersey. I got it from Bike Nashbar and I think I bought an XL. I don't remember who made it but I do remember that it would have been tight on my 11-year old. I believe it was Italian made which made the sizing difference all the more troublesome. I'll bet you that when you walk up to Tony Soprano you don't suggest to him that he's a 6X, and he would be if Italian-made cycling jerseys are any indication of the sizing scheme used in the Land of Exchanging Taliban Officials for Reporters.
Anyway, I sent that jersey back.
A week ago I went to eCyclingstore and purchased a jersey with the Statue of Liberty on it. It was an XL and the brand was eCycle. It was far too tight and too short (despite the fact I measured my chest and ordered based on that measurement). I returned that one and ordered a World Jerseys in a XXL; it was better, but still too tight and too short.
I checked several sites and XXL is the largest I've seen a World Jersey come in.
I called Bike Nashbar and asked for advice from one of their support people. The guy I spoke with weighs about 10 pounds more than I do. He suggested the Nashbar House Brand and also said Primal Wear jerseys were cut larger. I ordered one each in an XXL.
And, they both fit when they arrived.
be too small, I'm sure, as well.
Jerseys come in Club Fit (more relaxed fit, roomier) and Race Fit (more snug) styles — maybe more, I don't know —, so you might want to keep an eye on those tidbits when ordering. (I wasn't aware of the different cuts until just recently)
Why wear cycling jerseys at all? They do keep you drier which is important in summer and winter. Of course, a simple polyester shirt, or a shirt made of other super-wicking fabrics, will do the same thing. I have a light green polyester shirt and a couple of black ones I'll wear around when I'm trying to look less geeky. If I'm going too far from home I always wear a cycling jersey as they have three big pockets in the back and you can never have too many pockets. (Cycling jerseys are also cut longer in the back so they don't hike up and reveal the small of your back (or butt crack so, really, they're sort of a public service).
Places to Shop:
Bike Nashbar: Carries Primal Wear.
eCyclingstore: Carries Primal Wear.
Kucharik: I just found this place while I was looking for another link. Jersey's go up to 5X, though I'm not sure what 5X means to them.
Aero Tech Designs: Another place I've never shopped, but I've read good things about them and they carry large sizes.
Performance Bike: Carries Pearl Izumi and Primal Wear.
Posted by delmer at 8:34 PM | Comments (0)
April 5, 2007
Everybody Wang Chung Tonight
Whenever I think of music videos the one that always comes to mind is Don't You Want Me by The Human League. I don't know why, it isn't like it's the first video I ever saw on MTV and it isn't my favorite song from the era. But it is the video that usually comes to mind.
During the week VH1 Classics runs something called The Morning Video Block. It may run on the weekend too, I'm not sure. I just know it's on at 7 a.m. when I get up on school days and I'll turn it on if I'm able to get to the TV before Sponge Bob fills the room.
As I watched VH1 Classics today a video started with two guys sitting on a park bench. In about two seconds I said aloud, as I knew it would impress my kids, "AEIOU and Sometimes Y." A few seconds later the title popped up proving I was correct. My kids were not as impressed as I thought they'd be and seemed to be almost ignoring my super-ability of being able to identify videos I hadn't seen in more than 20 years — so I asked if anybody wanted to go to McDonald's for breakfast before they totally zoned on me. That got their attention.
The song was by EBN OZN, and when I read the band's(?) name I thought of my buddy Roy as I could actually recall him at one time mentioning the band (his super-ability was knowing band names regardless of the obscurity of the band or how unband-like two guys sort of singing might be).
The next video that played was Don't You Want Me. I was in heaven.
I was certain the only thing that could make the morning any better would be an Egg McMuffin.
[One of the videos that came on was something called Buffalo Gals by Marshall McLaren. What a piece of trash. I could have appreciated an 80's spin on the traditional Buffalo Gals song but this was just a guy in a goofy hat repeating variations of the same line over and over. Maybe Marshall went on to record hit after ass-kicking hit. I'll bet Roy would know.]
Posted by delmer at 8:37 PM | Comments (1)
April 4, 2007
The Trip Out West Part XI: What Tom Saw
If you are just coming in to the story, you should really start at The Beginning.
In yesterday's exciting episode I'd been released from The Big House. Okay, maybe not The Big House but certainly The Little House. Alright, all things considered, it was more like a Utility Apartment.
In any case, Tom had bailed me out of the Sedalia, Missouri Jail.
As Tom and I walked to the Firebird he looked at me and said, "I knew you were in jail somewhere when I got back to the campground and one of the ladies there said, 'I heard you boys had a little bit of excitement last night'."
"What happened at the fair," I asked.
Tom told me that we'd been unable to find a ride going toward Marshal the previous night. The fair had closed and my motor skills and ability to stay awake had both gone south. Tom stuck me in a grain silo, shut the door, and then went around to climb in a window [maybe it was some other opening for all you silo experts]. As he was climbing in a guard caught up to him and asked what he was up to. Tom explained that his buddy was intoxicated, that he'd put him in the silo 'a little while ago to sleep it off' and that he was going in to get his buddy so they could leave. The guard thought leaving was such a good idea that he escorted us to an exit; it was not the one we went in.
So, there Tom was. Outside the fair at an exit he didn't recognize with a comatose friend. Sleeping in a field seemed like a pretty good option and Tom headed us toward one that was nearby. When we got to where we were going I peeled my shirt off, laid down on it and went to sleep.
Tom went to sleep as well.
This was at a point in Tom's life when he was trying hard to develop an ulcer and he woke up the next morning with serious stomach problems (the kind that would sometimes lead to puking).
He noticed, right away, that I was missing but figured I'd gotten up to go pee so he waited. And waited and waited. He finally decided to make his way back to the campground.
I want to say that Tom walked 6 miles before getting picked up. [I also want to say that the campground was 18 miles from the state fair but no matter what I do I can't make it work. I was pretty certain that the campground also sold fireworks but there was part of me that thought that might be a bad memory. A second ago I Googled campgrounds Marshall Missouri and got the following hit: Lazy Days Camping & Fireworks. I don't know that it's the same place and I'd assumed the place we stayed would have changed names in 20-years time. But, maybe not.]
So, Tom walked six miles and then got a ride the last 24 [or 12]. He eventually made it back to the campground, found out I was in jail, and went to work getting me out.
Of course, he had to get the car out of the shop first. You do remember that the whole reason we were in Marshall was because the starter had died … right?
Getting the car fixed was $80 or $85.
Bailing me out of jail was about $80.
We'd left West Carrolton (Dayton, y'all), Ohio at midnight on Saturday. Roughly six hours later we'd lost the front wheel off the car. Roughly twelve hours after that we'd lost the starter. About six hours after that I was in a silo sleeping. About six hours after that I was in a cell sleeping. Around six hours later Tom was in the process of tracking me down. Another seven hours and we were back at the campground.
We packed everything in and hit the road.
[At some point during that Sunday, Tom had called our friend Kent in Colorado. When he told Kent I was in jail, Kent's simple reply was, "Well, get him out."]
Posted by delmer at 8:47 PM | Comments (0)
The Problem With a Series
I've been able to identify at least one problem with running a bunch of related entries.
When, if I'm running a group of things all related, do I find time to tell you that yesterday it was about 80 F outside (about 27 C) — and that it may have broken 80 F for all I know?
And today, coming back from lunch, I encountered snow flurries and it is currently 36 F (what's that 1 or 2 C?).
I awoke this morning to find my furnace running. And my kitchen door open with wind whipping through the downstairs. I'm certain the temperature stayed at 70 F up until 6:45 a.m., just moments before my alarm went off, and then dropped to freezing in an instant.
Otherwise my furnace may have been running for hours and I refuse to accept that.
Posted by delmer at 12:25 PM | Comments (2)
April 3, 2007
The Trip Out West Part X: Show Me
If you are just coming in to the story, you should really start at The Beginning.
Last time we checked in, I was in jail in Sedalia, Missouri.
I'd spent most of the night running a tin cup back and forth across the bars and screaming "I ain't gonna be nobody's bitch," making requests to see my lawyer, and demanding that my manifesto be published in the Sedalia Citizen Journal.
Okay, the room, well, cell I guess, didn't have bars and I slept most of the time I was in it.
At some point a police officer came to the cell and woke me up to let me know I had a visitor. He escorted me to a small room with a phone in it and a big pane of glass at the front of it; Tom was on the other side of the glass.
We picked up our phones and started talking. They were broken and we ended up yelling at each other through the glass. I honestly don't remember too much about the conversation other than asking where my shirt was.
"It's in the car." Tom said.
I asked if he'd send it in; the officers made sure I got it. I was whole again! And sleepy.
Back in the cell I snoozed a bit more. When I awoke I quickly slipped into boredom.
Fortunately lunch arrived not long after I woke up. I don't remember what the meal was but I do recall that I attacked it like I hadn't eaten in days. Midway through my second or third bite I thought I might want to slow down and make it last — it wasn't like I was going anywhere.
Not long after lunch Tom was back to bail me out. The shadows had an odd look for it being so early in the day and I asked Tom what time it was. It was around 7 p.m. What I thought had been lunch had been dinner. I remember making the statement that I'd been in jail 14 hours and I'd slept 12 of those; this may screw up the time line I've weakly established. (Maybe it was 13 and 11.)
"When I got back to the campground and one of the ladies said 'I hear you boys had a little bit of excitement last night' I knew you were in jail somewhere," Tom said
"What happened," I asked. And he told me.
He also told me that he'd been around town making friends and trying to figure out how things might go. He'd met a guy named Bear who had a shirt shop, some gals at the ice cream place, and he'd lined up a public defender for my court appearance on Wednesday.
I told Tom about the plan to pass on the court appearance and he took to the idea without argument.
We stopped b