AccuWeather was somewhat derided when, before the start of the hurricane season, they said that a northeast U.S. hit was more likely this year and that people should prepare. Of course, the preparation point was that EVERYONE at risk should take appropriate preparation steps, but that the northeast was particularly vulnerable because very few people had any hurricane supplies or plans at all.
The AccuWeather.com story is here, and "the" graphic is here.
Now, CBS Evening News has weighed in on an interesting story, which you can find here, that states:
A major northeast hurricane is nearly three times more likely this year thanks to favorable weather conditions, including the position of the Bermuda High. Last year it pushed storms southwest. Now it's set to steer hurricanes up the East Coast.
"Northern hurricanes move two to three times faster than southern hurricanes, so they're gonna be here much sooner," Coastal Geologist Nicholas Coch told Miller. "So a hurricane that is off the coast of Charleston will be here in eight hours. That fast."
Whether it happens this year, or next, or whenever, now is the time to prepare. When something is in the forecast is NOT the time to try and "get down to Lowe's" to get what you need, or to make a plan for getting out of a city.
"Ooo, Me! Me!"
"Put your hand down Henry, that's just a blog post title."
Alert Reader and TV Viewer Tammy was surfing channels and came across "Who Wants to be a Super Hero." I would have left the confines of my chair and taken a look but I was locked in a vicious game of Tetris at the time. I've since done a little reading on this and may actually have to watch the next episode, even though I generally dislike reality TV since the first season of Survivor. (I confess to watching most of the first season of survivor, as I thought it was actually some sort of government-sponsored psychological experiment that was made public by the producers of Dateline. I was crushed when I learned that wasn't the case.)
Apparently "Who Wants to be a Super Hero" is a reality TV show that will pit various wanna-be super heroes against each other. The winner will get to pick from a variety of super-power-inducing methods to give themselves REAL powers, namely:
1. Being doused with various unnamed chemicals and then being struck by lightning
2. Donning a mask made of cursed Aztec gold
3. Staying overnight at Club Quarters
4. Being bitten by various radioactive pests, including but not limited to: spiders, goats, bison, very angry squirrels, meteorologists, grackles, Wal-Mart greeters.
5. Blogging
So the stakes are naturally high. I have to say you should check out the heroes that are competing. These are some very committed people. Because I'm naturally drawn to the whole super hero thing, I thought I would handicap the remaining contestants. If you're the kind of person who bets on these sorts of things I should say up front that I don't guarantee any of this, unless of course you win something in which case I'd like a cut thank you very much.
CELL PHONE GIRL
Pros: Great powers; in particular, who hasn't thought about being able to teleport from one cell phone to another? How many times have you stood next to someone in a public location (I don't know...say, church?) who keeps repeating something over and over and OVER again to the person at the other end? Well, if you were Cell Phone Girl, you could teleport there and beat the snot out of the person who just can't seem to get it. OR, fire beams from your cell phone, whatever that means.
Cons: CPG can't talk in a normal voice, and must constantly yell in order to be heard. Also, she just start playing annonying ringtones at inopportune times. And always loud enough to stun a charging rhino.
Handicap: Goes the distance but doesn't win.
CREATURE
Pros: Most blond contestant. Her catch phrase is "Why Not!?" which is likely to confuse and stun most of your entry-level henchmen. A whip is an interesting weapon choice (see below) although it's very easy to kill yourself with one.
Cons: Unusual combination of powers that apparently have nothing to do with each other. How many people can heal others with fruit and raw foods (okay, so that's pretty common on the west coast) but ALSO have a magical whip AND can shoot fire-beams? AND, can throw knives with unerring precision? This really flies in the face of Darwinism, which suggests that as soon as you evolve into something able to shoot fire-beams you'd really loose any ability/interest in throwing knives.
Handicap: Loses towards the end, but gets spokesmodel job with Jack Lalanne's Power Juicer.
IRON ENFORCER
Pros: GREAT secret identity name of "Steel Chambers." This alone should send him to the finals. He claims to have the densest bone structure of any human, but I know some meteorologists who also claim the densest title, so I'm not sure about that.
Cons: He has a five-year life span, which frankly limits his long-term, ah, future.
Handicap: His fear of flying will make it impossible to get him to signing engagements and various crises on time. Gone by episode four. Ends up as a bounty hunter; eventually sued by the ACLU for using his "mind-blowing death punch" one too many times.
FAT MOMMA
Pros: She's a huge...doughnut fan.
Cons: She's a huge...doughnut fan.
Handicap: Gone in the next two episodes. Starts her own sitcom though, which proves very successful. (And is for...the children.)
FEEDBACK
Pros: Just based on the profile I'm guessing Feedback is a huge computer/video game geek. This gives him a tremendous advantage. Even his catch phrase sounds like something a fanboy would come up with. And kudos for the Power Rangers-like costume.
Cons: Probably very easy to get dialogging. Could see him getting trapped by a PS3 offer, or maybe lured too close to the microwaves in the break room of his secret identity's place of work.
Handicap: I think he can go all of the way.
LEMURIA
Pros: Drains energy from plants and animals. I have seen WAY too many hyperactive plants and animals in need of a good draining. Can also shoot laser-beams and fireballs, which is something I've always wanted to do, particularly when I'm stuck in the ten items or less aisle behind a strange (hyperactive) fruit.
Cons: Vulnerable to "the night" which really puts a cramp in crime fighting. (It's a well-established fact that super villains tend to operate after 7 p.m., when they're done with their day job and have had dinner with the family.)
Handicap: Out by episode 4.
MAJOR VICTORY
Pros: Major Victory can "manipulate sound waves to create noises or throw his voice." Now, c'mon, who HASN'T wanted to throw his/her voice or create noises at some point. I know you all are reading this right now and thinking how great it would have been to create a certain "gas-passing sound" (gps) behind the boss at the company party.
Cons: Unfortunately, Major Victory has a lot of baggage. First, he's lactose intolerant, and as soon as that gets out the Evil Overload of Dairy, the Fromage of Fright - the Milkman - will eat his lunch. Also, he's equipped with the worst catch phrase in history: "Be a winner, not a weiner!" This alone will have super villains gunning for him because there will be a huge bounty on his head, and accolades galore, for whoever takes him out. Lastly, he's called "Major Victory" and, well, it would be a little weird to say that "Major Victory" gets the..."Victory." Cries of "Fix! Fix!" would abound.
Handicap: Out by episode 5. Unable to accept taunts of "Hey, Major Failure!" he goes a little nuts, and punctuates everything he says with a drum-roll and his own laugh track.
MONKEY WOMAN
Pros: Inventive use of the word "Monkey."
Cons: Disguising your weapons as bananas will work a few times, but after you've aimed a banana at the fourth or fifth super villain, only to have them say "Ooo a banana! I'm scared!" and then get disintegrated - well, people will start talking. The Banana Growers Council will get angry too, as that will probably hurt business. There will be lawsuits, embargoes, angry tirades on Larry King Live - no, I just can't see it working.
Handicapp: Out next episode.
TY'VECULUS
Pros: He appears to have a helmet, which is really cool. It also means he could ride a motorcycle in any state (not that he would need it in Pennsylvania). His powers are formidable: super-strength, super-speed, and fire resistance.
Cons: He apparently can only hear the truth, which means he's effectively deaf when he's amongst politicians and advertisers. Apparently he's also "blinded by beauty," so it's likely he'll go down to defeat as soon as he runs up against Council Woman Courtney, the (cute as a button) super villain of Reedsville. (It's this tiny town about an hour outside of Atlanta you just HAVE to visit sometime.)
Handicap: Out by Episode 4. Ends up becoming an amateur super hero, saves 23 of the 24 elders fails to save the 24th elder from a chicken bone, thereby dooming the entire planet.
So there you go. It's hard for me to predict who leaves when because I haven't actually seen the show yet, and I don't know how many people get eliminated each time. Has anyone actually seen this show? If so leave a comment. In my "rose-colored-glasses world" I would expect it to be fun and wholesome. So if we all turn in and it's a *bleep* fest of back-stabbing, conniving and betrayal I apologize. I'll also wonder why it wasn't called "Who Wants to be a Super Villain?"
I may have had some luck In my continuing quest to find my super powers. (reference) I've been to a number of stores recently and realized that I must have some latent power to pick the worst possible check-out line. Oh, I know some of you are thinking "THAT power? I've had that for years..." and "That's no super power! That's like saying Aquaman has super powers." You might be right. But I had something happen to me the other day that I've never experienced.
I had three items so I did a quick scan and saw that there was a ten item or less aisle opened. I leapt into action and got in line behind only one person. "Surely," I thought to myself, "this will be quick." I put my items down and noticed that there was a set of items on the conveyor belt that clearly didn't belong to the person checking out. A bit baffled, I looked around and a few minutes later a woman appeared out of no where, I mean appeared like they were using their camoflage power, and got in front of me next to the items.
Well, still, that's only two people, so it couldn't be that bad. Even if they BOTH paid by check, or paid by Bahraini Dinars, I should still do well. Then IT happened.
It was the last item of the person currently checking out. I'll be generous here and say that it was some sort of fruit. However, when it came time to ring it up, the hapless checkout guy sort of turned it around and around and finally mumbled something like "What is this?" He eventually looked at the customer and asked her what it was. The customer didn't speak English very well (not that I do either) and so now...we had a situation. The emergency checkout aisle beacon was turned on, and we all settled in. I spent my time looking through the checkout aisle magazines, and was very distraught to learn that Brad Pitt had apparently divorced Jennifer Aniston and has been seeing Angelina Jolie. Just as I finished that story, the checkout aisle sentry appeared and asked what the problem was. "Weird fruit." was all the hapless checkout guy said, and the sentry stared at it for a few minutes. He then picked it up and turned it around and around. Finally, he asked the customer what it was.
The customer sort of shrugged, and he then asked her where she got it from. She pointed to the other side of the store, and he dashed off leaving a cloud of dust and plastic bags. The woman who was in front of me, who had appeared out of nowhere, now disappeared again and reappeared near a stand of film supplies. Apparently she wasn't done shopping.
At this point I began looking around for another aisle, but I knew that my power to pick the worst aisle would just get triggered again and who knows what would happen this time. Well, I couldn't guess but it would probably involve a clown and a bottle of seltzer. So I stayed put.
After finding out that Brad and Angelina apparently had a child and photographs of the child were sold to GoldenPalace.com for ten billion dollars, the Sentry came back with the magic number on the unidentifiable fruit. She paid, and the person in front of me who wasn't in front of me reappeared in front of me and also paid, fairly quickly as she didn't have any weird fruit.
Then I finally got to the front of the ten items or less aisle and the hapless checkout guy asked me how I was doing.
I'm not a big tennis fan, and really don't know anything about Andy Roddick, but I am a huge Pong fan. As such, I really enjoyed this commercial - just brilliant - especially the ending. Have a peek (or "peak" if you will) (long story).
"Watch out for this guy, he returns everything..."
Bog, not blog - National Geographic News has a neat article about a construction worker in Ireland who dug up a thousand-year-old leather-bound Book of Psalms. Experts are hailing it as a "staggering" find. The exact location in Ireland is being withheld so that the appropriate experts can thoroughly examine the area. You can read the article here.
An interesting footnote - it's claimed that the book was found open to Psalm 83. That particular Psalm talks about the destruction of Israel. "With one mind they plot together; they form an alliance against you..." This is pretty eerie given what's occurring in the Middle East. At first I was inclined to think that someone was trying to be clever, but the text is in Latin. (Full disclosure: I'm not a member of the "flip-the-Bible-open-to-a-random-page-to-divine-the-future club. But I love reading it.)
If anyone sees anything else on this story, please drop me a note or comment. I love this sort of thing, and spend most of my days wondering why I can't dig up ancient texts, pottery shards or Aztec gold in my backyard.
Postscript: This may be a really dumb question (I know, that's never stopped me before) but what is with the picture accompanying that article? The picture looks like the book in question, discovered in the mud, but the article states that it was found open to a specific page, and the book in the picture is not. Also, it's more than likely that the construction worker who dug it up would have walked over and picked it up. I know, I think about these things too much.
Post-Postscript: Interesting update on the Open Page Story here. You can find Psalm 84 here. Verse 6 refers to the "Valley of Baca" and the word baca is often times translated as weeping.
Post-Post-Postscript: (I KNEW I shouldn't have used "postscript". Sigh. An update here by the NG. It's curious that before there was a prediction of doom, but now there's not, even though the last I checked BOTH Psalm 83 and 84 are still in the Bible.)
In today's cage match! Sorry if that was out loud. Actually this isn't a cage match, although we know if it was Extrovert (he's the guy in the red cape and the giant "E" on his chest) would pummel the guacamole out of Introvert (he's the guy wearing the paper bag on his head.)
This topic recently came up and I declared I was introvert. Does this surprise you? It probably doesn't since I once wore a paper bag on another blog that rhymes with "nerdy roommate hippo"* and I whine about introversion here on the blog fairly often. But after declaring myself an introvert, I thought I should double-check the definition to make sure I hadn't made some sort of mistake.
So, I checked and here's the definition of Introvert:
in·tro·vert Function: noun
1 : something (as the retractile proboscis of some worms) that is or can be drawn in especially by invagination
(Source: Merriam-Webster OnLine)
Sigh. I had no idea that I was declaring myself like a retractile proboscis of a worm. In fact, I'm not even sure that I can pronounce "retractile proboscis" even if I really wanted to, and I doubt that I would, especially in mixed company.
Completely dejected, I prepared to call everyone that I had talked to about being an Introvert until I noticed that there was another definition. Whew! That crazy English language. The second definition is:
2 : one whose personality is characterized by introversion; broadly : a reserved or shy person
(Source: Merriam-Webster OnLine)
Well, that's better. That's actually what I meant, and there are no mention of worm parts at all. Of course, I had to check the definition of introversion:
in·tro·ver·sion Function: noun
1 : the act of introverting : the state of being introverted
(Source: Merriam-Webster OnLine)
Well, that's helpful. But there was also this:
2 : the state of or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one's own mental life
(Source: Merriam-Webster OnLine)
And that made me think some. Does that mean that introverts (not the worm parts) are simply self-absorbed? That didn't sound too good. As I reached for my paper bag, I thought I would check up on the Extroverts:
ex·tro·vert Function: noun
one whose personality is characterized by extroversion; broadly : a gregarious and unreserved person
So now we have the reserved shy person versus the gregarious unreserved person. Then I checked extroversion:
ex·tro·ver·sion Function: noun
the act, state, or habit of being predominantly concerned with and obtaining gratification from what is outside the self
So it does seem to be suggesting that there is this inward vs. outward thing. I'm surprised; I've thought of the two terms as relating mainly with socialization; the introvert doesn't, the extrovert does. Or, put another way, the extrovert doesn't mind - nay, even likes - to socialize, the introvert would rather be dipped in honey and dropped into a vat of siafu. I'm going to have to do a little more research now, probably between 1:45 and 2:45 a.m.
Are you an introvert or an extrovert? And have you been lurking without leaving a comment? Now is the time to de-cloak and check in! I'd love to hear who's out there and what you think of the intro/extro thing. And one last question to ponder: if a person is an introvert, is s/he just wired that way - or is it something a person can "unlearn?"
*Okay, "Thirty-Eight Below" and "Nerdy Roommate Hippo" is a stretch, but I think it works. Especially if you knew any of my roommates from college.
I've written about my Main Character theory before, but I don't know if it was in this blog or another previous blog that rhymes with "nerdy ate snow." It's my own personal theory that everyone looks at themselves as the Main Character in a Movie about Them. This does a great job of explaining so many of the weird things that happen in life - and explains so much behavior that, when examined rationally, appears completely irrational. In fact, the mere process of examining someone else's irrational behavior is done by people who think they're the Main Character in a Movie about Them, so of course other people are irrational.
The reason I was thinking about this was because I've been very busy these past few weeks and haven't had as much time for the blog as I would like, and figured someone would check in with me at some point. That made me think about the blog from someone else's point of view, where I was merely something they occasionally read and maybe even laughed at, instead of being the Main Character in a Movie about Me. Hmm. Did that make any sense?
Of course, that thought-train left the station and made a dozen different stops, at oft-visited stations such as "Why am I blogging," "Is there any sort of future in this," and "Pittsburgh." Fortunately the train didn't stay very long at "Pittsburgh."
I did receive some notes about the blog, which is gratifying in that people care enough to check in. I'll probably post something later today unless of course this counts in which case "Whew that's done." Alert Reader Brandi sent me a list of blogger questions for me to answer, and one of them was "What do I enjoy most about blogging?" I won't answer that here, since she'll one day publish her findings, but it did make me think about writing, blogging, and career choices, the last of which I'm still struggling with and should really figure out soon.
On a completely unrelated note, I recently shared with some friends that if I had my way I would take every single clothes hanger in the house and throw them out, and replace them with completely identical, brand new clothes hangers, so that the clothes hangers in my entire house would all be the same. (We call this "standardization" and really it's a tremendous efficiency.) Okay I made that up. I think I want to do that for two reasons:
1. There's absolutely no good reason to have two hundred hangers, 194 of which are different from one another in size, shape, color, or chemical composition.
2. If I can't control anything meaningful in my life, like the weather, or whether the recycling people will take all of the recyclables or leave certain ones behind for whatever unfathomable reason, or my career, well then I'll control some small, meaningless, insignificant part of my life, like what the hangers look like.
Are your hangers the same? If not, you can commiserate in the comments. If so, email me directly and tell me your secret.
How many laundry baskets do you own, and how many of them are unique (i.e. not like the others.) Make sure to include "hampers" in your total. And let me know where you fall on the whole basket vs. hamper debate. (Never let it be said that I don't cover weighty topics here.)
Sorry, that ELO flashback brought to you by the National Geographic. Apparently radar images of Saturn's largest moon, Titan, show a "continent-size region" which bears a striking resemblance to parts of Earth. You can read about it, and see for yourself, here.
The area in question is named "Xanadu." The official explanation is that "Xanadu" comes from the Samuel Taylor Coleridge poem "Kubla Khan." What is much more likely is that someone somewhere responsible for naming these sorts of things has a crush on Olivia Newton-John. I remember seeing Xanadu a long time ago; it's hard to dislike anything that Gene Kelly is in.
I may have to comment on this later, although it pretty much speaks for itself. Man Moon: We Saw a UFO. If anyone sees the interview drop me a note, I would love to hear what he said in more detail.
Alert Reader Sharon asked about a possible Blog Hero Stamp, and I'm actually considering it. You can make your own stamps with Photo Stamps at Stamps.com. You can find it here. It's not cheap though. I'll have to give it some more thought... I suppose I could make the artwork available for anyone who wanted to use that to purchase their own stamps.
When I'm not chasing away Jean-Claude and changing the wash I spend time looking at music on iTunes. Before iTunes I rarely bought any music. Now I buy a song or two here and there much too often. This, I think, speaks to the brilliance of Steve Jobs, as does his style of dress (jeans and a t-shirt/turtleneck) but I digress.
I came across this song recently and wasn't too sure about it at first, but now I can't get enough of it. Very moving lyrics and a simple thought, to trust in something with the trust of a child. I remember what that was like. It's too bad that life beats the snot out of that child. Or, do we let life do that?
Can I Stay Here Forever? by Starfield (via their 2004 "Starfield" album)
I'm not sure if the AccuWeather.com bloggers covered this; I was swamped with work although I thought about posting on it here. (Thinking about it is like half-credit, right?) At first I heard a few people were killed, then a dozen then more.
The official death toll stands at 547 people killed with 465 injured and 323 missing. (Source) An article in the USA Today from two days ago has some heartbreaking accounts of what was/is going on. It also shows a map of the region and where the epicenter of the 7.7 magnitude quake was.
The article also tells the story of a 12-year-old boy named Yousif, who saw the wave approaching through a pair of binoculars and yelled "Tsunami!" Unfortunately, no one within earshot believed him.
Tropical Storm Beryl, not to be confused with the mineral of the same name, is apparently responsible for driving large numbers of Jellyfish Mafia into the waters of Carolina Beach, where they float up to unsuspecting swimmers and ask them for pocket change. If the swimmer doesn't have any pocket change handy, which is sometimes the case when you're swimming, they then sting the swimmer and take bets on whether the swimmer will make it back to shore, or choke on sea water while they're screaming in pain.
How do you treat the pain while waiting for Health Professionals to come to your aid?
You've just run a load of wash in your clothes washing machine. When do you take the clothes out of the washing machine and put them in the dryer?
1. Why, as soon as the washing machine is done, why are you even asking this?
2. Sometime that day.
3. Usually within 24 hours.
4. 2-3 days.
5. When I start to smell something really bad.
6. When the vulture arrives, perches on the washing machine and starts pecking at it.
I'm just curious because this is one of my failings in my neat, organized little world. I usually fall somewhere between 4-6. Our vulture's name is "Jean-Claude" and we usually have to throw him a dead carp to make him go away.
In what will be (n my opinion) one of the biggest coups for DC Comics in history the United States Postal Service will be issuing a set of 16 different Super Hero Stamps tomorrow. From the USPS website:
This is the first stamp pane (20 stamps) honoring comic book super heroes to be issued by the Postal Service.
Half of the stamps on the DC Comics Super Heroes pane show portraits of characters; the others show covers of individual comic books devoted to their exploits. Beginning with the classic covers, a separate paragraph below briefly comments on each stamp.
Ever since Superman was introduced to readers in 1938, super heroes have been nearly synonymous with the comic book medium. Their fantastic adventures provide an escape from the everyday while simultaneously encouraging readers to feel that individuals can make a difference.
Comic books aren't simply "kid stuff" - adults have always been among their readers, and the form has attracted its share of serious artists and writers. And super heroes have responded to social and political issues from the start, fighting corporate greed and political corruption during the Depression, for example, and then becoming patriotic defenders of national interests during World War II.
People who aren't familiar with comic books in general may not know that there are two different power houses in the industry, DC Comics (stamps and heroes/heroines shown below) and Marvel Comics, who owns the rights to such characters as Spiderman, Hulk, Captain America, as well as Ant-Man, Mole Man, Purple Man and Machine Man. So the question here is how long until Ant-Man is gracing a stamp?
Here's a photo of the stamps that will be available, courtesy the USPS:
And here's a close up of the cover used for the Superman stamp, courtesy DC Comics:
And a final observation: Why not just go all out and sell postage stamp space to the highest bidder? Wouldn't Coke, Pepsi, et. al. love to have their product on there? And wouldn't we as tax payers like cheaper mail? I did a little research and there are Disney stamps, which I somehow missed. Seems like we're practically there - thoughts?
Carriel Louah decided that she would surprise her mother on her mother's special day, her birthday. So far, so good. Visiting your mom on her birthday is a very cool thing to do. You mom was there for you a long time - maybe 18 solid years and then during summers, occasional phone calls, maybe college graduation. As a father, I've seen a woman bring two children into this world. It's not pretty. It involves a lot of agony, screaming, trips to Baskin-Robbins, and that's just the pregnancy.
This could be the end of Ms. Louah's story, except that I'm writing about it here so you know that it's about to get bizarre. The very next morning (the birthday was January 14, 2005, so this would have been January 15, 2005) Ms. Louah stepped outside and slipped on an icy driveway, breaking her ankle and injuring her leg. The mother, Wendi Reichling, wrote an apology letter to Ms. Louah her daughter months later that contained an admission: her husband "should have fixed that damn (gutter) years ago. We have learned we have to take better care of our sidewalks."
So now, Ms. Louah has an attorney and is suing for more than $75,000 for medical bills and lost wages.
Question of the Day
Would you sue your mom if you slipped in her driveway? Leave a comment. And do you think this is pretty straight-forward, or perhaps some sort of ploy to get at an insurance company somewhere?
I haven't had much to say on Beryl because I've been crazy busy with several top secret projects that I could tell you all about but then...well, you know. I noticed today that the USA Today Weather Guys talked about the name Beryl which is not the media onslaught I had expected when I tried to get my Beryl post in early (Beryl - best storm name ever?) but Doyle raises some interesting points I hadn't considered.
It looks like she's headed towards Cape Cod, which technically is in the northeast which is one of the areas that AccuWeather has stressed will be under the gun this year.
A while back I mentioned that we bought a couch. I was forced to go couch-shopping because I painted my living room, and you can't just leave old furniture in a newly painted room, especially furniture that you made yourself from cardboard boxes and duct tape (fashionable though it be.) So on May 30 we went to a Furniture Store That Shall Remain Nameless and purchased a couch and matching chair. This was a huge stretch for us, as we're not furniture shoppers by nature but the 18 months without a payment deal was too good to pass up.
Yesterday we received a cryptic call from the furniture store. Well, Alert Reader Tammy (who may or may not be my wife) received the call. Apparently it was our Furniture Sales Person saying that she had good news and bad news. The good news was that our furniture was finished, and had been loaded up on the furniture truck and was being shipped to their store!
That was it. It's not often that I'm accused of listening with all of my listening super powers when someone is talking to me about furniture, or similarly weighty subjects. But this time I was really tuned in, and it seemed like something was missing. Oh, I know! The bad news! So I asked about that and Tammy didn't know what the bad news was either. She also didn't know why the Sales Person was calling us just to say that the furniture was NOT in their store yet.
So...where is my furniture? Apparently no one knows. It's somewhere between there (where they make these things) and here (my house.) When will it be "here?" No idea. WILL it EVER be here? No idea.
Unless the bad news was "and the furniture truck drove into a ditch and burst into flames" I can only assume that my couch is roaming the countryside, looking for its owner. Please - if you see it, direct it to State College Pennsylvania. Or, just send it to "the vast wasteland known as the Middle of Pennsylvania." Either will do.
It just occurred to me that I said I would be at a Barnes and Noble in Richmond signing books, and we actually DID end up at a Barnes and Noble but, sadly, there was no on there with any books to greet or sign, so I had to mill around the store and sign books on the shelves while no one was looking. Well, that one lady saw me but I don't think she'll tell. Plus, I signed them all "Hugs, Dave Barry" which was funny at the time but now I wonder if Dave's getting in trouble. If so I'm really sorry about that Dave.
I wanted to say thanks for putting up with those two long posts about Richmond. I'm practicing for the book I'm writing. My goal is to write longer and longer posts until one is long enough to count as a book - probably a small, thin, weakest-member-of-the-herd sort of book, and start with that. So. You know, you were warned and all. Leave a comment with book ideas or possible book titles. Alert Reader Brandi sent in "IGAR" and "Blog Hero" which may seem terribly obvious but I honestly had not considered either. I suppose in "IGAR" the main character would have to be me (that's the "I" part) and he (I mean, me) would have to get a rock. That's a pretty good plot. Now, what do I do with the rock? Perhaps..I sell it for a millionbilliontrillion dollars?
My previous entry, cleverly titled "Schaads in Richmond - Part One", detailed our trip from Thursday to Saturday. You would think that would be the end of it; Sunday we would just drive back and the trip would be over right? But no, we had to be spontaneous.
First, I should say that in between racing around to historic sites we visited a Barnes and Noble twice, on Friday and Saturday evening. We're both big Book People, meaning we'll buy more books than we'll ever read. My Love of Books directly conflicts with my Love of Not Having Stuff and yes it's stressful but therapy is helping. I suppose I get through it by deluding myself that I really WILL read every single one, especially such classics as "Dental Emergencies and How to Avoid Them", "The Unofficial Guide to Walt Disney World (years 1984 to 2002)" and "Spontaneity in Seven Easy Steps for Idiot Dummy Fools." One day. Ideally while sitting on a beach somewhere amidst the roar of the waves and very low humidity.
We really enjoyed B&N, as there were a number of great sales and the store was the size of eight football fields. It even had valet parking, a roller rink and a Laundromat. That was convenient, since we stopped at the cafe, bought over-priced drinks and then spilled them all over ourselves.
Sunday morning we packed up, bid farewell to the Grand Parents and headed north. We had decided to be spontaneous and stop at Luray Caverns. We have this running joke now about caves; I think they're fascinating, but Tammy thinks that once you've seen one stalactite you've seen them all. We've been to two of the local caves in central Pennsylvania, so I was not prepared for Luray. The cave is IMMENSE.
Photography was actually allowed inside the cave, but my tiny digital camera and itty-bitty flash were completely out classed. At right is a photo of some stalactites, one of many formations inside the caverns. (I also have a large, fancy-shmancy wallpaper you can download here.) I wish I could share just how amazing the view was. And just how much room there was - the Pennsylvania caves we've been in were tiny by comparison.
While we were below ground, Connor noted that the air seemed very clean and that his headache was gone. I did a little reading on Wikipedia and saw that the air is very pure, the temperature is a constant 54° and the humidity is comfortable - all things we experienced.
Besides the immensity of the caves, and the stark beauty, there were a few more things worth noting.
The first was a calm, still pool - only a few inches deep - that was as reflective as a mirror. You couldn't tell where the water was without studying it for a few minutes, it looked like stalagmites growing out of the ground instead of a reflection of the ceiling's stalactites. I have a photo but it just doesn't do justice to the completely weird sensation of looking into the water and not knowing where the reflection began:
The other really cool thing was a giant wishing well. Apparently they clean out all of the coins each January and donate them to a charitable cause (the caverns are actually privately owned). The well looked like a mini-version of the last scene in the first Pirates of the Caribbean - the cave with all of the treasure. Granted, this was just pocket change and there wasn't a doubloon, crown or chest of cursed Aztec gold to be found, but it was still an amazing sight. I threw in a penny and it didn't hit the water, but instead landed on a rock. So, I suppose, "I Got A Rock" yet again. I'm not sure if you get your wish in that case or not.
If you're really into caves, and are passing Luray, I would suggest stopping. If, however, you feel that "if you've seen one stalactite you've seen them all" I would suggest stopping anyway because it was extremely cool. Cool in a nature-look-what-God-has-wrought sort of way, not in a look-at-the-dwarves-mining-gold sort of way. Try as I might I did not discover a single dwarf, gnome, goblin or Balrog while we were down there. Not even a single giant poisonous albino cave slug. I did see an area cordoned off with a sign that said "Armory" but when I tried to go that way the Tour Master (who, come to think of it, WAS wearing chain mail the whole time) produced a staff and rapped me about the head.
The last bit of adventure took place on Skyline Drive. In addition to being a sucker for a giant cave I'm a sucker for a gorgeous view of mountains and valleys. Particularly in Virginia, where everything seems cleaner and more beautiful than Pennsylvania. (Sorry Pennsylvania! We'll always have "Road Construction Ahead.") So I convinced my family to go through the rest of Skyline Drive. Okay, I made that up. They were held hostage as I was driving.
Skyline Drive is a 106 mile road through Shenandoah National Park in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. The views are absolutely breath-taking. You would know this for sure if I was even somewhat competent with a camera. But more on that in a minute. Okay, I just saw you scroll down for the pictures, real nice. Try to stay with me here.
When you enter the park, there are signs apparently posted everywhere that the speed limit is 35 miles per hour. You see where I'm headed with this, don't you? Well then, let the justification commence. These signs are posted where you enter the park - the place that has you otherwise occupied with trying to figure out how much the park costs, what plan you want to buy, where you're going, and so on.* After you start out on your drive, the speed limit is not posted anywhere else. This could be because we hadn't yet gotten to one of the other two signs posted somewhere on the 106 mile long road, or it could be that bears ate the signs.**
So there I am, taking in all of the beautiful scenery - dazzled, as it were - and driving along a practically deserted road because it costs three hundred dollars to get into the park. And the road is in mint condition (no reserve) because no one ever drives on it.*** So how fast does one end up going?
Let's take some more time here to review. You have no idea what the speed limit is, because you missed the posted signs. (I know it's a National Park, but try to help me out here.) You're on a deserted well-made road and you're traveling from scenic outlook to scenic outlook, pining for the fjords. How fast would YOU travel?
(At this point my better judgement, which looks like a very small version of me on my shoulder dressed in a fine suit with polished shoes and perfectly applied mousse, has appeared and is telling me to wrap this post up there's really no need to get into this further. But my writing self, which looks like a very small version of me on my other shoulder dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt (probably from Eddie Bauer) with no mousse or even any hair gel has appeared and says "You think too much." )
Where was I? Driving, yes. I was going a rather conservative, safe, not-a-problem-with-my-super-human-lightning-reflexes 54 mph when I passed by Officer Antony's car. His Officer Car. With the Radar Thingy. And wouldn't you know it, the speed limit was actually 35 mph. Thinking quickly, I pulled over and told my home-schooled kids that we were going to see the Justice System in action, and that there would be a quiz afterwards. My daughter asked what was going to happen, and I told her that I would get a ticket for speeding or that there was a bear on the roof, I wasn't sure which since I didn't know that the speed limit was 35 mph.*
The officer was very polite. He only shot me with the stun gun once, and really I was feeling a little sleepy anyway before that and not sure I would make it all the way back to State College. He took all of my information and called it in, to make sure we weren't a terrorist cell driving through to blow up a scenic outlook. After what seemed like an hour, but was only 48 minutes, he came back and asked me if I was feeling lucky.
What do you say to an armed officer of the law named Antony who has just asked you if you're feeling lucky?
My better judgement appeared and was about to answer until my writing self appeared and shot him with a stun gun. I figured if I said "Yes" I might appear brazen. (And you never want to appear that.) If I said "No" well, I might end up not lucky. So I said the only reasonable thing that popped into my head:
Okay I made that up. I actually said "I don't know, am I?" in as polite and respectful a tone as I could muster, given he had just shot me with a stun gun 49 minutes earlier. See, I was basically communicating that he was in charge. They love that. And it turned out I was lucky, as he gave me "a warning." He then explained how the entire 106 miles was a 35 mph zone, and that I probably wouldn't see any more signs because the bears ate them, and that I should be very careful in the future. I told him I would be, that I would never speed again, that I was sorry about that time I cheated off of Mikey Dabrowski in fifth grade math, and a bunch of other stuff he really didn't seem interested in. He then let us resume our trip, and I pulled out into traffic, swerved off the road and hit a tree.
Okay I made that up too. Don't you get nervous about the post-police-stop driving resumption? I haven't been stopped that often, but I always think that I'll pull into traffic and hit someone head on, or hit the police car, or something silly like that.
After we got out of the Shenandoah National Park I stopped the car and called my spontaneity advisor and explained what had happened during my attempt at spontaneity. He said "Hold on" and then fumbled with the phone and called some people over and explained my story and they all started laughing hysterically until one said "Hey you didn't press the mute button, that's the speaker button" and then there was a click and a few minutes of silence and he came on the phone again and told me to keep trying.
The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. Below are a few pictures from Skyline Drive. If you're ever in the area, and like beautiful vistas and driving 35 mph with a sign-hungry bear on your roof, I highly recommend it. Just ask for Officer Antony.
You can tell him "Lucky Carl" sent you.
*Initial justification - Carl was confused. (I know, this is hard to accept.)
**Secondary justification - bears eating speed limit signs. (Talk to a Park Ranger; this happens all of the time.)
***Tertiary justification - I just wanted to use the word "tertiary."
Skyline Drive; Objects in Photo Even More Beautiful in Real Life
Skyline Drive; Objects in Photo Even More Beautiful in Real Life
Alert Reader Tammy & unnamed Blog Hero; Object on left side of Photo Even More Beautiful in Real Life. (This Photo taken by budding photographer Connor.)
We launched the new beta version of AccuWeather.com, for those of you interested in such things. You can visit http://2k6.accuweather.com and take a look around. This is just "Phase 1" and doesn't impact certain site areas like the hurricane center, so as you go through it you may see things that do not look like they've changed. But take a look at the navigation, and the organization and whatnot. You can drop me an email at schaad@accuweather.com with your thoughts, and/or take the survey that is linked from the top of the left column.
I'm sure there are some browser nits to stomp out, so I'd be interested in hearing about those as well. Thanks!
Thanks to everyone who decided not to steal our stuff while we were away. Of course, now half of you are thinking, "D'oh! We could have stolen his stuff!" Well - probably, although you would have ran into our high tech security system, which (in case you want to steal our stuff next time) involves:
1. Locking all of the doors,
2. Leaving all of the lights on for the entire trip, particularly the light in Connor's closet which is never, EVER off unless it has burned out from being on 24/7,
3. The giant swinging guillotine-like blades on the other side of every door and window,
4. Our cat.
So don't get any ideas next time I publicly advertise I'll be out of town. Who knows, I may do so again in the near future and hide in the bushes, just to see what happens.
The only reason I'm writing this after being on the road for 11 hours is that the likelihood that I'll do any sort of post "vacation" wrap-up diminishes rapidly after said "vacation" is concluded. (Remember to make those little quote marks with your fingers while reading this aloud to friends, family, pets and your dentist.) In fact, the likelihood diminishes to exactly zero after about 12 hours. So as public service I'm typing away even though my brain fell out of my head somewhere around Winchester and my right foot is still trying to brake and accelerate. Incidentally, if anyone driving along 81 sees my brain hitchhiking do NOT give it a ride. It will probably be surly and keep yelling, to no one in particular, "NO we are NOT THERE YET!"
First, the recap: We decided to take a "vacation" and drive to Richmond, Virginia, to see Alert Reader Tammy's parents, a.k.a. "the Grand Parents", for four days - we left State College Thursday, July 13 and left Richmond Sunday, July 16. I suppose I should explain that I put vacation in quotes because really the only true vacation is going to Disney World where they wait on you hand and foot, albeit for huge sums of money. Anything less is really a different form of work, not a vacation, although even driving to Disney World with the promise of being waited on hand and foot is work until around the Florida State Line at which point your brain has melted and your fists are glued to the steering wheel and you're just muttering over and over "I WILL get to the happy place I WILL get to the happy place I WILL..."
The drive down was uneventful. Okay, I made that up. On the way down we stopped at the Winchester-Frederick County tourism hut to get some brochures, because we had no idea what we were going to do in Virginia. Well, we had a good idea what we were going to do in Richmond, but we thought there might (MIGHT) be an opportunity for some spontaneity on Sunday which would help me out in my course so we thought we would make some spontaneity plans. Of course, as soon as I saw the brochures I seized up and was overcome with Brochure Madness and took about 40. The amount of time needed to do everything that I had a brochure for was just under three complete lifetimes.
As if experiencing Brochure Madness wasn't enough, outside the tourism hut was a giant pineapple! I made the kids get in front of it for a picture, and this is the sort of cooperation I get from my son:
He wanted me to tell you that "the sun was in his eyes" but yes, you guessed it, he was mortified that his Dad made him stand next to a giant pineapple. And speaking of giant pineapples, I took this photo of the plaque:
The left side is what the plaque actually looked like; the right side is my "enhancement" so that you can read it. I guess it washed out over time. So. Not only was this a giant pineapple - it was the welcome pineapple! How cool is that? (Pause for oohs and aahs.) I did a quick web search, and apparently this giant welcoming pineapple was one of a series.
We arrived in Richmond safe and sound and spent some time catching up with the Grand Parents. We ended up retiring early at 10. I slept like a rock from 10 p.m. to 10 a.m. I haven't slept 12 hours in ages, outside of being sick/near death/watching the Pride and Prejudice Marathon with Alert Reader Tammy. (Okay, I made that up; I can only watch P&P in three minute segments.)
The next day (which was Friday, for those who are lost already) was spent in downtown Richmond at the Museum of the Confederacy, alternately known as the "Museum In Richmond You'll Never Find by Yourself" and the "Museum of the Side that Didn't Do Quite as Well as those Damned Yankees." Before I launch into a completely inadequate description of the MotC, and other historical sites, I should confess up front that I am not a historical type person. I like history, it's very nice and I'd be happy to buy it a cappuccino if I ran into it in a Barnes & Noble, but I wouldn't say we're really great friends. (For example, I wouldn't buy history a giant chocolate chip cookie with the cappuccino, nor would I let history borrow my B&N discount card.) I like archaeology, and old stuff that people dig up, but once it's cleaned up and put behind glass...I dunno. So I was a little outside of my comfort zone with the museum thing. But I went in with an open mind.
The museum was actually very interesting. It consisted of three floors and a tour of the nearby "White House of the Confederacy." (More on that in a minute.) Most of the exhibits were artifacts from the period. These fell loosely into three categories: Flags, Things to Kill People With, and Other Stuff. The photo above is one of the items from the "Flags" category. You can find a super-large-high-res-my-webhost-will-hate-me version here. A lot of the exhibits still appealed to the wanna be archaeologist in me (although I suppose many of these items were not "dug up" in that sense.)
This item was from the "Other Stuff" category. Okay I made that up, this came from the "Things to Kill People With" category. There were a lot of those sorts of things.
After looking at a lot of Things to Kill People With we went on a guided tour of the "White House of the Confederacy." (I know, your fingers are getting tired but please, keep making those quote marks. It really does make a difference.) What's the "White House of the Confederacy"? Great question! I would show you, being a visual person, but I was not allowed to take any pictures. At the beginning of the tour the Tour Master looked at me square in the eye and said, "No pictures of the White House of the Confederacy!" He even drew his sword as if to drive home the point.
Ah, you know what I mean.
So I don't have any pictures. But, "White House of the Confederacy" is a "meticulously restored neoclassical masterpiece that, in terms of quality, historical associations and authenticity, probably is second only to Mount Vernon among restorations of historic American dwellings." (At least, according to the Washington Post.) It was the home of President Jefferson Davis and his family during the war, as well as the military and political heart of the Confederacy. As far as meticulously restored neoclassical masterpieces go, the WHotC was top notch. I learned a number of things I hadn't known. For example, did you know that the Confederacy had a President? I didn't know that. I thought he was a Duke or Earl or something. We learned a great deal about his family, the history of the house, and about the artifacts that currently reside there. The only unfortunate thing was this clown who was juggling flaming batons in the reading room. I really wanted to take a picture of the conflagration but my camera had been confiscated by a sword-weilding Tour Master.
That was Friday. Saturday we spent traveling to Jamestown, and from there Yorktown.
Jamestown was almost exactly like Disney World except that it was even hotter and more humid. And it was smaller, and dustier, and we never once saw animals in costume. And it wasn't about magical fantasy worlds but more like Virginia in 1607. But other than that it was very similar.
Although I never checked, the AccuWeather.com RealFeel Temperature during our tour of Jamestown was probably... 491. I know I joke about the South being sticky, but the humidity Saturday was "swamp-like." (Keep working those quote fingers, everyone's counting on you.) Jamestown consisted of indoor exhibits, a 15 minute film on Jamestown (the 1607 settlement, not the place we were at - try to keep up) and a re-creation of what life was like back in 1607.
I would have taken some photos of the indoor exhibits at Jamestown, but photographs were prohibited. It was funny, too, because one of the last exhibits was a Virginia quarter (you know, the "State Quarter" series - you probably have one in your pocket right now) and I thought "Man this is a blog post waiting to happen" and would have taken a picture if I didn't think some irate Tour Master would have run me through with a saber had I tried. The history here was a bit more compelling, if only because it was older history. In fact, the settlement is coming up on its 400th anniversary in 2007, and many exhibits were gone as part of the big Fiesta they're planning. (This was unfortunate timing, and nothing I would hold against them.) I would have taken pictures of the missing artifacts, had I not been concerned that an insane Tour Master would have gutted me with his cutlass just then.
The film was interesting; the settlers went through some very difficult times what with the famine, indians and lack of plumbing. The film set up the rest of the experience well - as we toured the indian huts, fort and ships we had a better sense of how they fit into the larger Jamestown picture.
Our tour included re-creations of the Susan Constant, Godspeed and Discovery, the three ships that brought the colonists to Virginia. This was a huge score for two kids who had just seen "Pirates of the Caribbean" a week ago and thoroughly enjoyed it. I hadn't even considered that until the sails came into view over the trees. It was one of those moments that happen rarely - a chance to connect pop culture and history in a meaningful way. The last time that happened to me I was playing Rock, Paper, Scissors with Twinkie the Kid at that Apple Festival in Denver. But that, as they say, is another story.
After Jamestown we visited Yorktown. Yorktown was the site of a pivotal battle in the Revolutionary War that culminated in the surrender of the British to American and French forces under George Washington. So here we were fast-forwarding from around 1607 to 1781. Yorktown consisted of an indoor exhibition hall, an 18 minute film and an outdoor re-creation of the life and times of that period. I know you will not believe this (and I am NOT making this up) but photography was not permitted indoors. That's too bad, because they had a number of Flags and Things to Kill People With that I wanted to take a picture of but I was scared some crazy Tour Master would disembowel me with his scimitar should I even attempt it.
The exhibits were very interesting, including a series that told the story of salvage operations on some of the sunken ships involved in the Battle of Yorktown. That appealed to the frustrated archaeologist in me, and I thoroughly enjoyed those. The film was also great, and starred James Earl Jones as "General Washington", Adam Sandler as "French Lieutenant #1" and Steven Seagal as "Private Mike", the soldier who has to defeat 40 British soldiers with nothing more than a bugle and a deck of playing cards.
We toured the outdoor area (which you can take pictures of, if you're competent with a camera unlike a blogger I know) and heard a fascinating story told by a fellow who played the part of a field doctor. Most of the story is too gruesome to tell here (this IS a family blog, after all) but he did relate some stories that sounded exactly like my dental tales. In fact, some of these tools below can be found at my dentist's office. Can you identify them?
Here ends Part 1 of "Schaads in Richmond". Part 2, which will probably be published tomorrow if Carl can get out of bed, will include the answers to these startling questions:
Where do the Alert Parents choose to go when the children are left with the Grand Parents?
What did Connor say when he was 100' below ground?
Can the Schaads be spontaneous? (Is that even possible?)
Who is "Officer Antony" and why is he following Carl?
And get at least one more limited edition, rare, downloadable Schaadpaper for your computer. How does a family cram all of this into four days? Find out tomorrow!
In a completely un-spontaneous way we're probably going to be traveling to Richmond, VA this week. Maybe...Thursday. I'm planning on getting the brownie army in gear before I leave but will be asking that my particular batch of brownies (all nine hundred) not be mailed until after we get back, which will be sometime in October. Okay I just made that up - it will only be a 4 day trip. I know, the spontaneous thing would be to keep driving to Orlando since we'd already have a good start. Sigh.
I'm writing about this to ask if anyone has any good ideas of stuff to do in the Richmond, Virginia area. I'm thinking about attractions like Bigfoot Museums, Arcades, Really Expensive Bigfoot Arcades - that sort of thing. If so, drop me an email or leave a comment. I'll also be signing my book at the Barnes and Noble bookstore down there. Okay I made that up. I'll be signing other people's books, I still have to write one. It's on the list, settle down. I actually do have it started. So far I have:
TITLE
by Carl Schaad
And a bunch of page numbers. I may at some point change the title "TITLE" to some other title, something more gripping or timely, like "The One Book You Must Read While You're Still Alive" or "How to Survive the Coming Economic Meteoric Terrorist Tsunami of Bird Flu Death" but I'm not committing to anything quite yet. If you have any good ideas for the stuff that comes after the title page leave me a comment. Most books are pretty big, so I think I'm going to need some suggestions.
In yet another bout of spontaneity we saw Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest Friday night. (In the future I'll just refer to the movie as PotC:DMC since that's so much easier to type and everyone knows what that means.) Apparently we were part of movie history, as PotC:DMC made $55 million dollars that night, the most money any film ever in the history of film making all the way back to the Mesozoic Era has made in an opening night or in one day. The previous record was held by Star Wars 3, and before that Pee Wee's Big Adventure (at $50 million and $49.9 million respectively.)
I won't spoil anything for anyone who hasn't seen PotC:DMC yet but MAN I could NOT believe that clown with the flaming batons. Just crazy. Oops, sorry about that.
We all really enjoyed the film. I would give it 4 immortal cursed monkeys out of five:
PotC:DMC Rating
In the meantime, if you saw it leave a comment. I'd be curious to hear what you thought. And a general warning to all - if you read the comments, there'll likely be spoilers. ARRRRR.
I know, you're thinking "This is different than usual how?" Aside from that sounding like something Yoda would say, yes these babblings will be more incoherent than usual because I am exhausted and totally brain dead. A real Writer in the professional, published sense would rework what I'm writing here three thousand times until it was a decent piece of writing, by which I mean it would make some sort of sense. But thanks to the miracle of blogging, I can just type any old thing and hit "publish" and then be filled with a bitter sense of remorse for not taking more time with it.
First, does anyone out there know when one officially "Has Ants?" I think we Have Ants but I can't be sure. We've spotted ants by the sink, but what's weird is we only ever see two at a time. We smash them (or, as I prefer when no one is looking, take the sink spray nozzle and yell "Oh no! The National Weather Service has issued a Flash Flood Watch for your area!" while spraying them down the sink) but then later two more will appear. Not one, or three, or four, but two more. It's like they're little ant scouts, or ants going to a formal, or something like that. I almost feel sorry for the smashing. (Not the flash flood; I figure they at least have a chance that way.) So although we may be on the verge of a full-fledged ant invasion it's only been two at a time so far. Dear Abby: Do I Have Ants?
Second, I was cleaning the basement and it's scary down there. Where does all of the stuff come from? In addition to being borderline OCD about the cleanliness thing, I am very stuff-adverse. If I don't use something for two months it's time for it to go. This is problematic for seasonal stuff, I know, like boots and winter coats and things but with a great deal of effort I can put that stuff in a box and hide it. But everything else should just go. Fortunately Alert Reader Tammy, who may or may not be a packrat, nicely balances my irrational need to discard anything that isn't in the same room as I at any given time.
I managed to make some piles of stuff in the basement: Three throw out piles, two recycle piles, three donate piles, and a pile of stuff I'm not allowed to touch. The last pile was the biggest, but you can only do what you can do. Which reminds me: Does anyone need a giant bin of flash lights that have no batteries? No reserve. Act now.
Anyway, while I was in the basement I caught one of those "Funniest Home Video" moments that we all have except that we're the poor schmoes that don't have video cameras at the time, so our moments will forever remain unbelievable and unrewarded, save in our own imaginations. I have this mattress downstairs (near one of the donate piles) leaning up against the wall. It's standing up "tall wise" so it almost reaches the ceiling. While I was watching (I know, this is unbelievable) the cat ran past me and right up the mattress. It got up to the top and then paused. While I watched, the mattress started to fall over because of the weight of the cat. The cat, with claws stuck in the mattress, had this look like "This is NOT happening to me." Right before the whole thing fell over she managed to dislodge herself, jump off, and dash away before being smashed by the mattress. I laughed; it was worth at least some sort of consolation prize - say twenty-five dollars or so.
Things here are crazy insane busy, so we did exactly what you would expect - we went to Pittsburgh. It's part of my spontaneity training class. It's a life-long class with no expected graduation date - only periodic pass/fail mid-terms. Some might suggest that I was trying to "procrastinate" by going to Pittsburgh (if reading this out loud to someone, make sure to make those little quote marks with your fingers) but really spontaneity training is extremely important, especially to those of us without any.
My spontaneity rating had been stuck somewhere around 12/100, with a rating of 0 being "corpse-like" and a rating of 100 being "Robin Williams". I finally decided to register in a spontaneity training class, which is terribly expensive and involves getting calls at all hours of the day and night with instructions to do this and go there and experience that. Usually I just let the machine take those calls, which hasn't helped my rating any.
Today's call came in at 6:33 a.m. I picked up the phone and said, "What." The teaching assistant at the other end, whom I had a hard time understanding, said that we were to drive to Homestead and visit "Dave & Buster's". I tried to explain that I was crazy insane busy but those TAs can be pretty pushy. So we did our best to be spontaneous, and we're proud to report (and I am NOT making this up) it just took us 45 minutes to get out of town. We only had to go back to the house once and we were all quite proud of ourselves.
DB (Dave and Buster's - it's getting late) was very cool. It's a restaurant/arcade. The kids were thrilled, and Mom and Dad enjoyed some lunch and downtime together. DB had a "prize room" (remember, use those quote making fingers) where you could "purchase" "valuable" prizes (fingers tired yet?) with the tickets you acquired from certain games. (Games played for a small fee; fortunately we were able to get the third mortgage approved over the phone - amazing what they can do nowadays.) When the kids were done playing they had earned 2000 points to spend. I tried as hard as I could to get them to buy the Donald Trump Doll but they wouldn't go for it. I mean, he says things like:
"I should fire myself just for having you around."
"This one's easy for me...you're fired."
"I have no choice but to tell you...you're fired."
"Did I tell you...you're fired?"
"We're both...fired."
"I fired you first."
"You AND your Momma...are fired."
"And much more!"
Okay he doesn't say that last part, there are just more things he apparently says that aren't worth noting on the product description. So what DID they get? Cassie got a light saber, which is just swell except she runs around the house now saying "The circle is now complete. When I met you I was but the learner. Now, I am the master." Then she runs up to me and while making sounds like "Whoosh" and "Swoosh" she smacks me in the knees. After the ninth time that gets really old.
Connor got a kick ball, a sports bottle and a cup. What I don't understand though is why he shouts "You are part of the Rebel Alliance and a traitor!" and then throws the kick ball at my knees. That's getting really old too.
So DB was pretty entertaining, and my spontaneity rating is now at least 15/100. I just checked my class notes and 15/100 is "sedimentary rock." Time to celebrate with a carefully planned evening at home doing nothing in particular, except maybe taking some of my stuff to the curb.
First, I must apologize for the slow posting. I've been bitten by the cleaning bug, and am cleaning the house from top to bottom. I know I suffer from some mild form of obsessive-compulsive disorder with regards to cleaning. Normally I keep it under control. The fact that I'm sitting here writing this instead of scrubbing the bathroom tile grout with a toothbrush is proof enough of that. But I can only stand it for so long before I crack and go through of my "fits". I think the family appreciates it, in general, or at least they can bask in my Tidy World afterwards. During the process there are a lot of rolled eyes. (Oh I don't see them but they're there.) I know my son's brain almost exploded while I was trying to explain that you have to clean the edge of the carpet by hand because the vacuum doesn't go there.
In any event, the cleaning is almost done. My system is to go room to room, and remove all of the unnecessary or out-of-place items (like books, sneakers, furniture, kids, etc.) and place them either in my office or in the basement. So, right now I have a clean house save for a disaster of an office and basement. But that'll get tackled this weekend.
As I clean, I keep a list of all of the things that I need to buy. These are things you really don't think about unless you're cleaning, like light bulbs. My house gets darker by degree over a period of weeks and months, and just like proverbial boiling frog I don't have any idea what's going on until I'm sitting in the dark and wondering why I can't read a book or see my food. So I needed light bulbs. I also needed a set of blinds, because Cassie pulled on hers with her super human strength and they just ripped right out of the wall.
"Dad, you didn't put these in real well."
"No, Cassie, your super human strength is beginning to develop, like that guy in Sky High"
"Wow! Cool..."
So we went to Wal-Mart because Wal-Mart Sells Everything™. Once I needed a pair of Stainless Steel Flaming Nunchakus of Death and there they were, right there in sporting goods. I did have to show id for that, and sign some sort of waiver. (But the Mauve Ninja didn't sign ANYTHING, BWAHAHAHAHA!). When we arrived at Wal-Mart I got my list out and started to shop. I shop like any male; I zig-zag around the store in an attempt to walk five miles before arriving at the check out. Women are smart enough to look through the entire list and figure out what's nearby. Not me. First item - oh, that's on the other side of the store. Whoosh! Second item - hey, that's back where I started! Whoosh! Third item - isn't that where I just came from? Whoosh!
It was during a whoosh that I looked up and saw Wal-Mart TV. I am being totally serious here when I say that Wal-Mart TV CREEPS ME OUT. I know it shouldn't, but it does. There's something about looking down a long aisle of products and seeing five TV sets hanging from the ceiling, all playing the exact same commercial for a product you can actually buy in that aisle. Why are they even trying to be subtle? Just have someone on the screen say "Buy More Stuff" over and over again in a monotonous, droning voice. Occasionally flash "BUY" on the screen. Not subliminally - we're way past that here.
I did some research and found some information on WMTV. Motley Fool has this article from 2004. Apparently back then spots could cost up to $300,000 for four weeks, reaching 133 million viewers. If that's the case, Wal-Mart would be the fifth largest network in the U.S. behind NBC, CBS, ABC and Fox. (2004 figures.)
All of that sounds great for Wal-Mart, but do we really need to watch television while we're shopping? Haven't I just been driven to Wal-Mart like a lemming from all of their marketing and promotion done (mainly) through television? And I arrive to shop, only to be greeted by... television? Is it me or does all of that seem a little too Stephen King-ish?
I could spend hours debating this sort of thing, but I need to go dust my pantry and arrange the food by expiration date (soonest in the front). Feel free to sound off in the comments.
I just found this on a CD of mine. It was tucked away in a very sparse folder called "writing." I'm sure I was using that term loosely. I read it and chuckled. I find it interesting that my writing style, if you could call it that, hasn't changed much in sixteen years. I don't know if that's good or bad. In any event, I hope you'll enjoy it as well. The story is more or less true, except maybe the muffled scream part. And no human being can drink nine Yoo Hoos in a row. It occurred at Penn State a university in central Pennsylvania that will remain purposefully nameless...
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"This form must be signed by your advisor, twice, here and here, and then by the dean of your college, and then by your professor, and then by your aunt, and then by the King of Angorra*, and then by the Pope, and then..."
"Oh, what a tangled web..."
Even with the advent of the computer, university students still for some unknowable reason find themselves digging out from beneath a morass of forms and bureaucracy. Anything remotely connected with the university has a requisite form, and the more significant the action the more fearsome the paperwork.
Recently I attempted to add an Independent Learning class. This is an out-of-classroom course of study that the student completes at his or her own pace, even at his or her leisure. I though that it might be a good idea to add such a class since I needed X credits to graduate. (X will remain purposely vague.) When I arrived at Mitchell building, home of Independent Learning, I quickly found the room I needed and approached the formica altar.
"I'm here to add a class."
"Are you a student?"
This, of course, took me aback. Was I a student? Was I in the right building? What was I majoring in? Why did I have those fries at lunch? After checking my wallet, I breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Yes, I am. I am a student."
"Then you'll need to fill out that form over there. Get your advisor's signature, and the signature of your dean."
"Thank you."
I got the form and left Mitchell building, much happier for the time I spent getting forms to complete. I then journeyed to my advisor to get him to sign my form.
When I got to his door, it was locked and the room within was dark. (My advisor will remain purposely unnamed.) I knocked anyway. Perhaps he was hiding in there. After several minutes of waiting I decided he was either particularly adept at hiding or not present. I checked his schedule on the door and noticed, with little surprise, that all of his office hours conflicted with my school and work schedule.
I sat in the hallway and started thinking.
I considered skipping Class X (this class will remain purposely unlabeled) but after much thought I came to the conclusion that all of my classes were interesting, thought-provoking and actually quite exciting, so I decided to at least try to call my advisor first and set up an appointment during a time mutually suitable for both of us.
I eventually met with my advisor. He said that I should speak with the instructor of the Independent Learning class I was going to take, before he would sign my form. I thanked him for his "helpfulness" and went to the office of the professor of the class I wanted to take.
When I arrived at her office, the door was locked and the room within was dark. I knocked anyway. I thought I heard a sudden shuffle within, and then a noise like someone smashing their big toe on a large wooden desk leg, and then a muffled scream of anguish, but I wasn't sure. I checked her office hours and they all coincided with my classes and work. Perhaps I just have work and class at popular hours? I decided to call her and set up an appointment.
After meeting with the professor of the Independent Learning class, I returned to my advisor. His door was locked, and I had forgotten that I had to call him and set up an appointment if I wanted to be advised. A few days later I met with him.
"Are you sure that you want to take this class?"
I paused. Was I sure? Perhaps I'd gone through all of this trouble so far, without really being sure. Maybe this wasn't for me. Maybe I should speak to a counselor. Maybe I should have some fries for lunch. Was I ready for this?
"Yes."
"Well, okay then, I guess I can sign your form."
As soon as his pen left the paper I jumped up, grabbed my form and laughed maniacally. Then I then ran all the way to the office of my college's dean.
"Can I help you?"
I looked about the room. I wondered how it could be so incredibly hot in this room while it was cold everywhere else on campus.
"Yes, I need the dean to sign this form..."
"What is it pertaining to?"
"Independent Learning."
"Did you get your advisor's signature?"
I looked at the form. It looked like my advisor's signature. I remembered being told to get my advisor's signature, and yes, I remembered doing it too.
"Yes, see? It's right here."
"Okay, then, leave it with me and you can pick it up in two days."
I looked at the form. It was crinkled with wear and age. Its corners were bent. I hesitated, then gave it to the secretary.
"Thank you."
I left the office. It was 20 degrees in the hallway. The form was out of my hands for a day and I had managed to get one signature. It was time to celebrate. I bought a Yoo Hoo and later took a nap.
The next day I picked up my form. It had the dean's signature on it. It looked like a stamp but I wasn't sure. Then I saw a stamp pad on the secretary's desk that said "DEAN STAMP 1". She saw me looking at it and hurriedly covered it up. I left the office and went back to Mitchell Building.
The secretary there recognized me. I handed over my form.
"Is it signed by your advisor and the dean?"
I just pointed to the signatures.
"Okay, thank you. Let me see. Oh, I'm sorry."
"Yes?"
"This course was closed out last week. There aren't any more spots available. I'm really sorry."
I took my form and left.
After drinking my ninth Yoo Hoo while listening to my Kenny Loggins collection I decided it was time to stop punishing myself. What's a little bureaucracy? I still needed an Independent Learning course. There were a few more courses I could try. And since it would take a while, I should get to it.
"Hi, I'm here to add an Independent Learning course."
"Are you a student?" a different secretary asked me.
I sighed. "This is the form I need right here, right?"
*So, okay, they have a Prime Minister. I was young, politically inept and drank too many Yoo Hoos.
Thanks to the Alert Readers who sent in updates on this story. It appears that prosecutors have reached an agreement with Katherine Lester, the girl who flew to the Mideast to meet her MySpace "buddy." The AP reports that Ms. Lester has to surrender her passport, go through counseling and cannot leave the state without written consent from her parents or a court order. She's 17 now, so I suppose this only applies for one year, at which point she'll be free to do whatever she wants. And apparently that will involve a trip back to the Mideast, as she recently declared her love for Abdullah Jimzawi during ABC.s "Good Morning America." She intends to marry him.
Reading between the lines of the AP article, I see that Ms. Lester is now living with her father Terry. The father has also said that this episode reveals not only the pitfalls of the Internet, but of having poor communication with the family. I'd say so.
Kathleen Connally is the photographer behind the photoblog "A Walk Through Durham Township." I came across her site about half-a-year ago, I'd say. I was blown away then (and more than a little envious) and have come back occasionally. If you haven't see her photography please do take a look. Durham Township is located in Bucks County, in eastern Pennsylvania. She has a number of flood photos on her site that are amazing. In particular, take a look at this photo during the flooding and this photo of what the same area looks like normally.
It appears that we have enough people for the First Annual Brownie Round Robin, which stars Carl as Brownie Eating Man, which may or may not be one of my undiscovered super powers. Here's what I'm proposing - those interested can email me their thoughts. I'll extend the Free Registration Period until Wednesday 5:00 pm eastern, at which time the cupboard doors will shut with a resounding thud and you'll have to wait until next year for the Second Annual Brownie Round Robin, which will be held at Kitty's house.
First Annual Brownie Round Robin Rules:
1. Participants send me their mailing address. Credit card number optional.
2. As each participant will get and receive one batch, Carl will create the list of who sends to whom.
3. Each participant bakes a batch of brownies, marks on a small card what's included (i.e. chocolate chips, chocolate chunks, chocolate bars, gigantic wedges of chocolate, raisins, etc.), and mails it to their brownie victim compatriot.
4. When the batch of brownies comes in, have everyone within twelve feet sample and send your review to Carl.
5. Once the entire circle is complete, Carl will declare himself the winner Carl will carefully and thoughtfully digest (sorry) the feedback and share any relevant feedback.
Ideally, the period of time between getting a batch of brownies and mailing off your batch of brownies would be small. Say, fifteen minutes. But since we're really not in any hurry, I think a time period of one week would be good.
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When I'm not chasing away Jean-Claude and changing the wash I spend time looking at music on iTunes. Before iTunes I rarely bought any music. Now I buy a song or two here and there much too often. This, I think, speaks to the brilliance of Steve Jobs, as does his style of dress (jeans and a t-shirt/turtleneck) but I digress.
Sunday morning we packed up, bid farewell to the Grand Parents and headed north. We had decided to be spontaneous and stop at 
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