If God really wants you to touch the sky, He'll give you wings.
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Main
Buying an ice cream cake at Cold Stone Creamery.
Sadness is getting it home and finding out it's mint chocolate chip, instead of chocolate chip.
Sigh.
(Alert Ice Cream Purchaser Tammy: "I wondered why you were buying a cake that was all green and minty-looking.")
I used that title just to entice all of you RSS subscribers who read the other blog. I actually don't have anything really curious to say about 37below. I can't confirm or deny any rumors about the future of 37below, whether it will be discontinued again and eventually rise as 36below, or whether I'll really truly finally have that line of winter weather wear I've been hoping for. BUT - I will say that no matter how many blogs I write (or don't) I hope none of them ever go out on a mayonnaise post.
And mayonnaise makes me think of Disney. Not because everything makes me think of Disney (some things make me think of food) but because I appreciate the attention to detail that Disney puts in everything they do. Often times that attention goes unnoticed, but they know that someone will "get it" - like hidden mickeys put into the theming of various rides and shows. So when I create a category on the blog called "Sandwich Spreads" my hope is at least one person notices and smiles. Of course, one person might be 16% of the total readership, and that may be a lot to hope for, but then again my elbow hurts because I've been spending too much time practicing the javelin. Come what may, I want to thank everyone for all of the reading, support and comments over the last few years - yes, even you Mr. I Like Your Site Buy Viagra Now.
In a futile effort to reach my health insurance deductible I've visited my doctor multiple times in the last couple of months. The visits usually unfolded in the same way:
1. Weigh in. Sigh.
2. Blood pressure check. Sigh.
3. Medication review. Blank look.
4. Doctor finally comes in, asks "How are you?" to which I say "Fine." (D'oh!)
The recent complaints have been centered on my right knee and right elbow. You might think there's only a 50% chance of injuring stuff on the same side of your body, but it turns out this is extremely efficient. Particularly if you can hurt the same side of your body that you use most often.
The pain that I've been experiencing in my knee is something called "Jumpers Knee." It's called that because it's usually associated with people who jump a lot. I, of course, avoid jumping whenever possible - so getting jumpers knee is a form of cosmic irony. The first round of treatment involves avoiding jumping, or running, or pole-vaulting (really, all of the things I enjoy most.) I'm suppose to take an anti-inflammation something or other but not too much as that will cause stomach problems. And, lastly, I'm supposed to put something cold on my knee until the swelling goes down or the knee goes numb or I can't stand.
The second pain, which as I said I've cleverly coordinated with the jumpers knee, is "Tennis Elbow." This condition is called that because it's normally associated with people who play too much tennis, or engage in too much javelin throwing. The first round of treatment is to avoid anything that requires use of your arm. Plus, take some ibuprofen (not too much or it might cause stomach problems) and put ice on it until your arm flops at your side like a dead mackerel.
None of this is intended to be whiny, by the way - I just wanted to update everyone and the Facebook status thing only gives you so many characters. Trying to keep up with the consulting and the AccuWeather Top Secret Projects I'm Not Allowed To Blog About Because It Would Give The Competitors A Huge Advantage is a bit challenging, particularly when I'm spending so much of my time leaping and hurling the discus. But, you know, the Olympics are coming up and it's hard not to get caught up in all of the hysteria.
On the positive side, only $2,417 more dollars until I hit my deductible. And it's only July!
I hope everyone had a great 4th of July weekend. The weekend here at the Schaad Ranch* was exciting. Not exciting like fighting off a hungry bear while covered in honey exciting, but still eventful.
I realized today that I worked all weekend (Thursday night - Sunday morning) on my consulting biz and didn't really earn anything. I was "catching up" on some odds and ends and pro bono work. I actually sandwiched my work around reading "Boundaries: When to Say Yes, How to Say No to Take Control of Your Life." For some reason that seems either extremely pathetic or extremely dysfunctional. That's not to say that the work I did this weekend wasn't important or valuable. It's just that sometimes it gets to be tiring.
(So far I have to say that "Boundaries" is a good read. I'll let you know if it's life-changing or not.)
I spent some time playing with my camera, an awesome Nikon D70 that I received as a gift from my father-in-law. It's the sort of thing I've always wanted but never thought I would spend money on mostly because of the Schaad Prime Directive, which says we can only buy the second least-expensive type of anything. (For example, let's say that the Schaads need a garden hose. Now, most families would probably spend time researching garden hoses in order to find a quality brand that is a good value and will last a long time, maybe never needing to be replaced. Not us. We will go right to Lowe's and find the least expensive garden hose, which is probably $9.96 and made in the Ukraine by cave gnomes, and then cleverly buy the hose that is slightly more expensive ($9.98). We realize that if we buy the least expensive hose it will be our fault when it unravels like three hundred-year-old yarn. But if the second least-expensive hose unravels like three hundred-year-old yarn well, then we'll be properly outraged.)
So I could never buy a digital SLR camera, unless it was made out of yarn by cave gnomes from the Ukraine. But I've always wanted a nice camera I could use and it's been wonderful. I borrowed a tripod from a friend at AccuWeather (Nick the Camera Genius) and set up a photo shoot with some LEGOs.
The first thing I realized is that a nice camera can make even a rank amateur look pretty good. Since I don't rise to the level of rank amateur, the second thing I realized is that Photoshop can make even an unrank amateur look like a rank amateur. But it's a lot of fun learning. The photo above shows Jar Jar Binks getting robbed by a clone trooper. In the background, another clone trooper is trying to rob a giant lizard. The giant lizard probably has more money on him than Jar Jar, but clone troopers aren't particularly bright, especially clone troopers that rove in bands looking for aliens to rob.
Here's another shot. This is Professor Snape right before two clone troopers jumped out and robbed him:
There are more but I'll spare you. It's tricky setting up a shot - you have to create some sort of neutral background, get the lighting right and then, when you're ready to take the shot, your daughter comes in and bumps the table and all of the LEGO guys fall over. I have about eight shots of LEGOs lying on their sides like turtles unable to flip themselves aright. Well, okay, they're LEGOs and they can't move but you know what I mean.
Finally, by way of the holiday weekend update, carlschaad.com disappeared for some time. I'm not exactly sure how long I was gone, but I checked yesterday and Network Solutions was kind enough to replace my site with a notice that my domain had been suspended. For a brief moment I felt panic, until I realized that no one probably even noticed, and then I felt curiously calm - like this was an opportunity to make a break. I could just let the domain name go and be off the grid. Then I remembered the AccuWeather blog, and the Facebook page, and the Google cache, and Ukrainian MySpace page, and decided that I couldn't run away. When I looked into the problem I found out that my Network Solutions email address was an Earthlink address, which I last used three ISPs ago in 1992. Thankfully my web host, which is NOT made out of yarn, was able to save my bacon and the site is back up.
*We don't really have a ranch, or really any cattle, or horses, or bales of hay, but we do have a cat and sometimes tumbleweeds blow through our yard.
I confess I don't know what that would be (the sound of a sigh caught in a black hole) but I thought the phrase would make a great blog post title. It seems very deep, like the "sound of one hand clapping" until you think about it and realize that it's completely meaningless. I suppose a sigh caught in a black hole would sound like siiiiiighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. There might even be a pfffft! right at the end there when it crosses the event horizon. For more on sighing and black holes and event horizons consult your local wikipedia.
Some of you have wondered why I haven't been posting as regularly as in the past. Some surmised I was in a terrible corn canning accident. Others have suggested that the Japanese Mafia finally caught up with me late one night at Wal-Mart, during an ill-fated Twinkies and Pepsi run. A few inquired about my health, given all of the bionics from poorly waged light saber battles and my diet of Twinkies and Pepsi. All good guesses, of course, but in truth I was on vacation at Disney World for the last six months.*
As proof I offer this photo snapped at EPCOT. It is part of the current Tin Toy exhibit being held in the Japan section of EPCOT, right behind the Japanese Mafia booth - which I carefully circumvented while dressed in my Speed Racer disguise. I think this is a Tin Godzilla, desperately in search of some Tin Japanese Soldiers to stomp on. He had just stomped on the Mach 5, Speed Racer and his box office receipts - but was still hungry.
*Okay, I made that up. I can hardly afford to put gas in my well-made but gas-guzzling SUV let alone vacation at Disney World for six months. But vacation is, after all, just a state of mind.
I need everyone's help for a bit of house-cleaning. I'd like to link to the blogs of those who read here often, but don't have the time to try and hunt down all of those websites and blogs. SO...if you're reading this and you have a site you'd like linked to, drop me an email or leave a comment and I'll update my site template.
Thanks!
Well. I have to say that after driving around in my Blog Mobile&trade for almost a week I'm disappointed to report that I haven't been stopped once by anyone. Nor has anyone shouted, "YO! BLG HERO!" not even once. So then I started to wonder, does the plate make the car, or does the car make the plate?
For example, here's a picture of the car I own, a Saturn S series. I won't say what the S stands for but this vehicle wasn't my first choice:
The BLG HERO plate does look very nice on the Saturn. But here was my first choice, a Lamborghini Gallardo:
After I got the plate I tried to explain to Alert Budgeteer Tammy that I needed to get the Gallardo now because that was really the only car that could do it justice. Tammy just gave me The Look. (You know The Look.) I said I would be the envy of all of my friends*. Then she asked THAT question.
"How much does it cost?"
I explained that the $200,000 price tag might sound a tad on the high side, but just imagine the BLG HERO plate on there! She expressed a little skepticism.
"IT COSTS WHAT??"
In the end, we got the Saturn. And I should say I'm extremely grateful for it, be it an S series, P series or whatever series. And who really needs to go 204 mph anyway? (Although I suppose I would have tried that out going to and coming from AccuWeather.) In the end I suppose it is the plate that makes the car, and not the other way around.
Plus, there's always the Superleggera.
*That is, until they turn on me like a pack of ravenous wolves and drive away at 204 mph.
(Disclaimer: I know it's terribly bad form to end a blog post in a preposition. Not only that, but I capitalized "of" which is a preposition and actually ends the title of this blog post. I just want to apologize in advance and say that it's not something I'm proud Of.)
I was reflecting on my last week or two and considering what I've done that I was remarkable in some way. I don't mean remarkable like putting-a-man-on-the-moon remarkable. That would be very cool, of course, but I haven't put anyone on the moon that I know Of.
I was thinking more along the lines of the small things. Helping this person with that; this random act of kindness, or that selfless act. I got a little depressed when I couldn't come up with that many things. At that point I start to get very creative, but I think it's creative in a sort of desperate way. So I thought I would post this and see if I get any comments - what have you done in the last few weeks that you are proud Of? Don't consider this "bragging" or boasting since I'm actually asking. I'd love to see everyone's comments and ideas. Any thoughts?
Note: This post was not written to depress anyone. It was written to stimulate thought and maybe even hopefully spur people to look around and seize opportunities that we normally miss. It was also written to end several sentences in prepositions, but of course that's something that I should be ashamed Of.
 Yesterday was the annual Schaad Fir Slaughter. This event occurs about once a year, usually after Thanksgiving when the Pennsylvania Fir Season begins. Although there's no limit on the number of firs a Pennsylvanian can bag the Schaads typically only take one.
Now, you might ask "What in the world are you doing hunting firs when I don't even know how the vacation ended, what happened when Alert Restauranteur Tammy ran afoul the law, and what the Schaads found when they arrived home?" Go ahead, I'll wait. Ask away.
Okay, thanks for asking. It seems that sometimes a blogger has nothing to write about, and sometimes there is too much to write about. What? Yes, I suppose I completely made that up and am just whining. In any event, I wanted to make sure that you knew what the results of the annual fir hunt were, because I'm likely to forget all about it until December 31.
This year's hunt occurred in the same place as the last 16 - Tait Farm. You can click on that link to see the firs waiting to be hunted. Go ahead, I'll wait.
Unfortunately a combination of precipitation and hundreds of hunters walking to and fro the field created something called mud. Not only that, but said mud was about 1" deep. The best firs - the Douglas Fir, which is pleasantly full and has a nice scent - we're located in the farthest reaches of the tree farm. It was a three mile walk as the crow flies, or a five mile walk as the Carl walks. Uphill. While dragging the tree carcass cart behind me.
I immediately hunted down a suitable tree that met all of Alert Christmas Decorator Tammy's needs: "Get a tree." It was almost pleasantly full, about 6' tall and cowered before my extremely dull saw blade. The kids weren't entirely sold, and proceeded to run off farther into the trees. I yelled after them that the sun would set soon, and that we would then be at the mercy of the trees and no one would hear us scream this far out, but they mostly ignored me. Eventually they came back with news that they found the perfect tree - up ahead, in a glade bathed in moonlight surrounded by tame woodland creatures. I followed them and yes, it was all true - and the tree was 30 feet tall. I explained that my cart would get stuck in the mud under all of that weight, and that cutting down 30 foot tall firs was dangerous because they liked to fall on you out of spite. So we returned back to the original almost plump tree and after saying a prayer of thanksgiving for this timely bounty I used the saw and sliced through the trunk like a knife through soft butter.*
Soundly defeated, the tree fell over and stopped moving. I hefted it on to the cart with one hand and jogged back to the front of the farm where I had to pay something like 20 dollars per fir tree foot. While I was paying the kindly farm folk tied up my tree so that it wouldn't try anything on the ride home. I threw it in the trunk and then returned home triumphant.
Sadly there were no clamoring throngs at my house to greet me, and the tree did end up getting the best of me when it somehow swelled up at the bottom and would not fit in my tree stand. I am completely, totally, 100% ready to go artificial next year. I'm thinking of something in the 3-4' range. Which would only cost 30 dollars per fir tree foot.
*It's entirely possible that this part is slightly exaggerated.
Pump price to jump 20 cents next 2-3 weeks: government
(Note: I'm not complaining, because it could always be worse. For example, when you pull into the gas station there could be an attendant there, and as soon as you step out of your car he could spray you with gas, set you on fire, and THEN charge you $4 a gallon.)
Miles to Disney and Back: 2,108
Honda CRV Gas Mileage: 26 mpg Highway
Gas: $264
Disney Memories: Priceless
 In an effort to have as much fun as possible I made two lists for our trip to Disney World. The first list I called "The List of Everything To Do Before Going To Disney World." The second list I called "Everything I Think I Should Pack To Take On Our Trip To Disney World." I discovered two very important things while going through this exercise that I will be including in my forthcoming book, "Everything You Should Do and Pack Before Going To Disney World." My publisher* has suggested that I not publish any of these tips now because it may undercut the sale of my book but that's okay - some things are just too important not to share. Not only that, but you'll be so grateful for these occasional trip to Disney World tips that you'll happily buy the forthcoming book. And copies for all of your friends and neighbors.
The two things that I learned are:
A. I have so much to do that we'll probably be going to Disney World when the kids are out of college,
B. I'm going to have to rent a U-Haul.
I suppose I may have gone overboard with the lists. For example, my list of things to do before I go to Disney World include gratuitous entries such as #34 Hold Mail and #12 Have Someone Feed Cat. At this point you might suggest, "Well, don't just sit there blogging - get to work!" I thought about this response, and decided that when you suggest that I would point out that I'm not just blogging, but I'm watching Saraha on TV. So, really, I'm accomplishing more than just blogging, I'm sort of entertaining myself. Also, it's much more effective to take another look at my list and eliminate some things instead of trying to get all of it done at this point. Items like #119 Pack Clothes and #87 Sleep will have to be eliminated.
I used the Internet to come up with my list of things to pack for Disney World. There are many helpful sites out there with titles like "Useful Site of Things to Pack for Disney World" and "How to Pack For A Trip To Disney World" and "Fill Up That U-Haul Now!" that can give you some good starting points. I discovered that my initial list was wholly inadequate. It consisted of things such as clothes, car keys, comb and Rich Chocolate Ovaltine. I never even thought that I should pack duct tape, nunchakus, my television set, dvd player, a really, really long extension cord, DVDs of all 3,000 episodes of Pokémon, earplugs, a taser, extra batteries and taser coils, and silly string. So in order not to miss anything I compiled all of the lists I found and made one master list. It's 12 pages long.
Did you know that camels can run up to 40 mph in short bursts? I'm still watching Sahara and I saw some camels running after a train so I had to go to Wikipedia and check on that. To me, a camel looks like the sort of animal that would know better than to run up to 40 mph in short bursts. I mean, that takes entirely too much effort.
So with 12 days left I just need to get the house cleaned, balance the checkbook, write two books, blog, cure insomnia, and figure out how my Honda CRV is going to tow four tons of Pokémon.
But I'm cautiously optimistic, and there's still an hour left of Sahara.
*Okay I made that up. Publishers interested in a great book idea can contact me here.
It appears that the comments functionality is working - that is, you can leave comments and I can approve them, only to delete them at some later date because I'll be all hopped up on Zicam and feeling despondent after a particularly ugly run-in with the copier, which I've nicknamed Ghidorah. As you all no doubt know, Ghidorah was a huge, three-headed, winged meteorologist who was called "The King of Terror" in several Godzilla movies because of his lightning wings, gravity beams and deadly inaccurate forecasting powers.
Anyway, that's all my way of saying thanks for testing out the comments. If you didn't test out the comments, shame on you. Ghidorah is on his way and he won't be satisfied until you think it's going to be 32 degrees and snowy.
Incidentally, speaking of Zicam... I'm taking Zicam because I've cleverly developed a cold two weeks before I'm going to be on our glorious vacation to Orlando. This is a problem because they turn away sick people at the Florida border. And, I don't really want to feel ill during our trip. So Alert Medicater Tammy suggested Zicam. I figured it was some sort of nasal spray and so bought it. BUT. I got home and Tammy read the package which clearly said "nasal gel." Eww. Nasal Gel? Yes. Nasal Gel. I have to shoot gel up my nose now. The lengths I'll go to for that perfect vacation for the kids.
Lastly, a quick update on previous comments. They're all still there on the site, but not in the database as near as I can tell, so the next time I republish the database they'll be wiped out. I'm going to sincerely apologize to everyone who has left a witty comment in the past. For those of you who haven't, that's Ghidorah knocking on the door now - let him in before he uses his lightning wings. I DID leave out some lasagna last night, but in the morning the spam comment trap was found lying on the floor deactivated, and the lasagna was gone - except for the spatula, which was kind of gnawed on.
I've been getting bombarded by spam comments - and one of the frustrating things is that the comments are all blank. I went in today to delete them, and it looks like they took a bunch of legitimate comments with them. I should have know better because
A. I can't work a copier
B. There's nothing quite so deadly as a cornered spam comment
C. I didn't sleep last night
Actually, I guess A doesn't have a lot to do with my current situation. But after fighting with the copier this morning I'm just about ready to go to Copier Operation School, or find a copier tutor, or something. I just can't get them to work right. It's like I have Copier Pox or something.
So, I have to apologize for the mix up. I looked around the site and I think the comments are still published, but I don't see them in the MT database. I'm going to set out some lasagna later and see if they come out, but I don't have much hope. If anyone has a spare minute, leave a comment on this post so I can see if the system is still working. Or, if you have any spare lasagna drop me an email and maybe we can work something out.
And, PLEASE, if you have advanced copier training let me know I mean it almost ate my tie this morning.
Insomnia is terrible. I know this because I'm exhibiting one of the key symptoms of insomnia, which is I'm awake writing a pointless blog entry at 4am. How terrible is insomnia? It's so terrible that it has its own formula:
TUIToI = (((ID x CIH)/HuS)x(1/NT))
You probably have already figured this out, but that stands for:
The Unknowable Incalculable Terribleness of Insomnia = (The number of Insomnia Days x the Current Insomnia Hours) divided by the number of Hours until Sunrise all multiplied by the inverse Number of Twinkies in the house.
The first thing that you will probably experience with insomnia is the magnification of sounds. As you lie awake, you can hear the ticking of your clock or watch. You can hear the neighbor's llama bleating chortling baying, your cat pacing back and forth because soon it will get food (only 17 hours to go), and the clanging of dust as it collects on things in the room. You can also hear everything that your spouse is doing: their tossing and turning, their breathing, their mumbling in morse code, and (if you have this sort of spouse, which of course I do not) their snoring which sounds almost exactly like a band of angry bluegrass Meerkats being short shrifted by the managed of a truck stop in Bedford, PA*.
At some point you'll probably make the decision that it's better to get out of bed and write a pointless blog entry than it would be to lie in bed and wish you were asleep, under water, building adobe huts in the Gobi Desert**, or writing a pointless blog entry. Bizarre thoughts start to go through your mind, lying there in the bed. Such as getting up, getting in the car, and driving to dot dot dash dash dot dash dot...
So I know what you're thinking: Of course you can't sleep! You're going to Disney World! While yes, that's a good guess I can tell immediately when I'm having a Going-to-Disney-World case of insomnia and no this is not one of those things. This is more like Are-the-Aliens-Going-to-Abduct-Me-Again-Tonight-for-More-Experiments kind of insomnia, which is probably at the other end of the insomnia spectrum. It's almost like I'm George Clooney, and I'm worried about where my next paycheck will come from because Nestlé won't return my phone calls.
So what to do? I've actually spent some time on the Internet researching possible options.*** And so I've bleated chortled compiled a list of great ideas:
1. Drink warm milk. This idea was generously offered at the American Dairy Association's website. Drinking warm milk will put you to sleep almost immediately. In fact, the site warns you to drink the warm milk in bed, because people have actually passed out getting to their bedroom after FOOLISHLY sipping on their way back from the kitchen. If this doesn't work out, you're supposed to drink more milk. If that doesn't work out, have some cheese.
2. Count sheep. This apparently only works if you have hundreds of sheep. For those of us who only have a dozen or two it's not very likely that we'll get to sleep unless we recount them many times.
3. Have a Golden Delicious Twinkie. New research actually shows that eating Golden Delicious Twinkies while drinking warm milk with your sheep will not only cause you to fall asleep, but it will cure acne, cause hair to grow in good places and dash dash dash dot dash dot dot dash dot dash. It appears to affect the sheep in the same way, which is great for wool production or for teen sheep who are going through those awkward high school years. (This idea was found on the Golden Delicious Twinkie Website and is in no way endorsed by the American Sheep Association, Mr. Morse or the Japanese Mafia.)
4. Take some serious hardcore medication. This idea was found on multiple websites. The concept here is that you take some mild-altering drug that duplicates the affect of Twinkies and Warm Milk in your bloodstream. You then fall asleep, even if your neighbor's llama is out back partying with angry meerkats performing "Man of Constant Sorrow" in morse code. It's amusing watching commercials for some of these medications on television, as they tout the wonderful benefits of the drug and then cut to an idyllic scene of baby bunnies frolicking amongst daisies and butterflies with a sun rising in the background and the voice-over soothingly warning that possible side effects may include sleepiness, tiredness, a feeling of being sleepy and tired, fatigue, a tired fatigue-y feeling, and sometimes maybe once in a long while kidney failure, liver failure, heart failure, bladder failure, mid-term failure, bounced checks and permanent sleep which some people in the non-pharmaceutical world occasionally refer to as "death."
Of course, Insomnia is so Unknowingly Incalculably Terrible that Hitler could show in a pink tutu dressed as a Pfizer Rep and offer you a bottle of something called "Sleepy Time Pills" and you would give him one of your livers**** for even half an adult dose.
I see by my clock that it's only 4:36 now. I have to stop writing and go see what all of the racket is in the kitchen. It sounds like the sheep are in the dot dash dash dot dash dot dot again...
*Sorry, It IS 4am.
**The author wishes to express his concern that it's possible that there is no adobe in the Gobi Desert, which would make building huts out of adobe there very difficult, but probably not as difficult as sleeping five hours in a row.
***Okay that was a flat out lie.
****We've had this discussion before.
So, after blogging about Dew Shoes you would think, "That's it. He's learned his lesson." But nooooooo. Today I decided to cut across the same lawn to get to the front door. Not only was it dew-covered, but they cut the grass last night. That's right, both of my shoes were completely soaked and covered in grass by the time I got across. So although I didn't tiptoe and leap at the end, I did have to do the "Got Grass on My Shoes Stomp" a dozen times.
Don't you hate when you decide to walk through the grassy field to get to your work building only to realize, halfway through the field, that it's covered in dew - I mean covered like you're really walking through a field of green water. And you look down at your shoes and they're glistening in the sun as you feel the dampness creeping through your socks, and then you look around and you're in the exact middle of the field and there's no where to go so you sigh and tip toe through the field to stay as dry as possible even though it's too late and when you get near the end you leap over those last few feet and there's the president of the company just staring at you.
Man I hate that.
It's with great solemnity that I announce that the Google AdSense Experiment (See ad at left; go ahead take a look - sure, you can click on it, I'll wait. Thanks.) has not been the runaway hit that I was hoping it would be, and so I will not be retiring this year as planned. Nor next year. Nor, anytime before the Mayan Calendar runs out, at a minimum.
In fact, since I've only raised Five Dollars and Thirty Cents (pause for laughter) I'm actually not allowed to get paid, as Google will only issue you a check after you've reached the five thousand dollar mark. That's too bad, because I was actually going to cash out and get a double decaf half-caffeinated latte grand chai mint mocha tea expresso at Starbucks, although I figured I'd have to throw in a few dollars of my own. As it is, I'll just have to be satisfied with going to their website and looking at pictures of various beverages.
If George Clooney is still reading, maybe he'll send me a Nespresso because, well, it's tough making a living (with AdSense.)
I received an important email over the weekend. I knew immediately it was important because of the subject of the email:
On impulse, the gnome looked around for something unpleasant that he could drop on them.
I knew I had to open and read the email because clearly there were people who needed to be warned. (These would be the people that the gnome was going to drop something unpleasant upon.) Granted, it's possible (even likely) that the people that the gnome was going to drop something unpleasant upon deserved it even though we know from the subject line that the gnome was acting impulsively, as gnomes are wont to do.
I also wanted to open the email because of all of the unanswered questions: Who was this gnome? Why was he (or she) acting so impulsively? Did he find something unpleasant, that was suitable for dropping? And who was he dropping it upon? How many of them were there? And how did it turn out? Was the gnome successful? Did the plan work?
Then I clicked on the email and it was about a stock market opportunity. I'm not even sure what the stock market symbol is, because the message had all sorts of special characters interspersed in the text so that my spam filter would miss it.
So I'm forced to assume that the gnome was a disgruntled customer at McDonald's who ordered a cheeseburger without cheese and, upon eating his burger discovered it laden with cheese - nay, burdened tremendously with cheese - and then in a fit of rage drove back to the restaurant, crawled into the duct work and finally stopped above the drive-thru workers milling about the Magic Milkshake Spigot™ at which point he decided to drop something upon them. Something, well, unpleasant.*
*If anyone has any details about this gnome or his clash with McDonald's, and/or the resulting lawsuit, please let me know. Thank you.
There appears to be this Internet Rumor that I've just recently turned 40. While I can't substantiate this, Alert Reader Tammy was quoted as saying, "HA!" Then she had this sort of chuckle/maniacal laugh.
Thanks to everyone though who sent kind wishes and condolences via email. I'm looking forward to another, even better, 39 and four quarters.
Well, I have to say that the hurricane season so far has surprised me. I think I predicted something like three hundred hurricanes, so unless we get busy here soon I'm probably (probably) going to fall short.
I did a model sweep and didn't see anything too interesting. The Canadian model does have a pretty nice storm crashing into Cape Cod:
Pretty Nice Storm Crashing into Cape Cod
But you'll note that's on day 5, which is an eternity away for a computer model. In any event, that would be Monday, so if you're in Cape Cod you've got that long to panic, run to Lowe's, buy wood, nail it to your house, panic, and then go down to the beach and greet Anderson Cooper. Or, you could stay tuned to Jesse's blog, where he'll no doubt post the latest and greatest.
(Model shot courtesy FSU Experimental Forecast Tropical Cyclone Genesis Potential Fields here.) (Say THAT ten times fast.)
UPDATE: Here's JB's thoughts on the Canadian Model:
"The Canadian is not the dangerous racer on the track with its crazy tropical solutions. For the 5th run in a row, it entrains the tropical energy and drives what looks to be a hurricane into New England. For kicks and giggles, it will be on the big dog this morning, but it is certainly not the model du jour when it comes to this and is rapidly becoming the old GFS hurricane somewhere on every run model, something that will kill its longer term operational runs. Speed kills, but so does heat, when it comes to models if its not handled right"
No really, I did. Over the weekend I took Cassie to a rock show. If you're not familiar with these types of things, a rock show is a large gathering of people who set up tables, stands, crates and boxes to show off their rocks. The rocks are amazing: there are big rocks, small rocks, clean rocks, dirty rocks, rocks that are very expensive and (a few) rocks that are cheap.
Actually, to be fair, they don't call the rocks "rocks." They usually use fancy terms, like "gems," "gemstones," "minerals," "fossils," or "plutonium." Generally the larger the rock, and the fancier the term, the more expensive the price tag. Cassie has always been into the rock scene, so to speak, and so going to a rock show was a huge deal for her. Of course, I was selected as the Rock Hero, mostly because I - as a man - can relate to rocks. (I'm not sure what that means either, but Alert Complimenter Tammy gave me a look that suggested it was a good thing.)
The highlight of the show wasn't even the show, though. The highlight was the field trip. I had advanced, insider information that said there would be a field trip to a rock gathering site (a.k.a. "The Outdoors") at 11 a.m. So we arrived early, checked in and signed up for the field trip. When it was time to go, I found out that there were two people going on the field trip: Me, and Cassie. Talk about your one-on-one teaching time! Our Rock Guide, Andy, was brilliant. We drove out of town for about 15 minutes and stopped by the side of the road. On one side was a dense growth of trees; on the other side, a sheer cliff going straight up into the sky covered by loose slate. R.G. Andy (Rock Guide Andy) explained that it wasn't as steep as it looked, and if you sort of lean towards the ground and walk sideways you probably would be able to climb up it but if you started falling and sliding to try and grab on to a large rock or prickly weed so that you didn't slide into the street and get hit by a semi.
All kidding aside (there weren't that many semis) we had a great time digging up rocks and crystals (a kind of rock). Cassie spotted an exposed vein of calcite and found a really nice specimen (a kind of rock.) I may take a picture of it for the blog. She also found various fossils (a kind of rock with dead animals) that R.G. Andy would take the time to describe. It turns out that R.G. Andy had several doctorates in various things, like earth sciences and weed identification and vertical sheer loose slate covered mountain climbing, and so I suppose I should call him Dr. Andy.
I was quite proud of Cassie and her behavior, interest in rocks and everything that Dr. Andy told her. Although, there were occasional lulls in speaking while we were examing rocks and Cassie would pipe up with something like, "Ooo! A stick!" and I would just wonder what I was doing there and how much longer it would be before I twisted my ankle and got home and would hear Tammy say, "You did WHAT?"
All in all, though, a great bonding time. And, best of all, I Got a Rock!
I've been going through the comment spam recently and I came across a message that was entirely in another language. At first, I thought this might be some sort of shiny new compliment from a reader in a far-away land. After some experimentation with Babel Fish I translated it from Italian into English. And - yes *sigh* - it was spam. It was apparently an ad for tickets of some sort. Part of the translation went like this:
"Always - I hope infinite ways towards that I have these..."
And I thought that was great. I hope infinite ways. I'll have to add that to my business cards...
(If I accidentally deleted your comment in the Great Comment Spam Purge of 2007 please forgive me. Two tickets are in the mail to you at this very moment.)
I added Google Adsense at the bottom of each page. That sound you hear is the cash register ringing continuously. Not only will I be able to afford a visit to Disney World soon, but I'll probably just buy Disney World, and Universal Orlando, with all of the cash I'll be earning. In fact...wait, I think the servers at Google just crashed from the load. Sorry about that.
In all seriousness, this is just an experiment. I'm not terribly enthused to see ads with Rosie O'Donnell's name in them, although I don't know her personally and am sure she's merely misunderstood. But I really can't experiment with the service without putting it on the site, because it's supposed to read the content and deliver appropriate ads. Which will be hard for this blog, since there aren't too many aliens or members of the Japanese Mafia: Weather Control Division advertising via Google (I suspect...)
In the meantime, if you see anything weird, feel free to email me or leave a comment. Thanks!
I've never understood the Summer Driving Season thing. You know; the season where gas prices go up because people are driving everywhere. Does anyone understand this? I know what they tell me on TV:
"It's summer. It's time for everyone to drive."
What I don't understand is that middle part. The part where everyone is driving more because it's summer. I think our family actually drives less in the summer. Just because it's summer doesn't mean that my commute to work suddenly grows longer. And with the kids not involved in their schooling there are less places to take them. The only driving increase I could see is if we decided to go on vacation, via a car, to a faraway place. Of course, we're not doing that. But - I guess I'm to understand from TV that everyone else IS doing that. Is that right? Are all of you going to increase your driving this summer? If you go on vacation, are you planning on driving far, far away - so far, that you will easily overtake any driving savings you would normally encounter because of things "slowing down" over the summer? Or do things not slow down in the summer for you?
On second thought, perhaps your daily commute DOES increase because the hot, stagnant, summer air is more difficult to drive through than normal, non-summer, thin, light and fluffy air.
The car is feeling much better today. It had its innards sucked out and new gas put in. For this, I only paid something like $269. In all fairness, this also included new spark plugs. I didn't know cars used 12 spark plugs but you learn something every day.
The car was towed not to the offending gas station, but to the Honda dealership in State College that we normally go to. The trip, which you can find here: The Trip Link, was about 44 miles and 52 minutes, according to Yahoo! Maps.
Alert Gasoline Dispenser Tammy is thinking about writing Sheetz, the gas station in question. She feels the, well, user interface of the gas pump was sorely lacking. When she told me she was going to write the letter I was initially very supportive:
"You're going to do what?"
But then I thought about it and became even more supportive. I suggested a few minor embellishments, just to make the narrative more compelling:
"Make sure you tell them the car exploded and you all nearly died in the fire. And, that we had just taken out our life savings and had the cash in a suitcase in the back."
I know from experience that corporations love to get those sorts of letters, as their lawyers are always looking for opportunities to give away large sums of cash to keep the customer base happy.
I'll let you know if a letter is actually sent, and what the response is. I checked the Sheetz website, and found this great photo of a genuine Sheetz Gasoline Dispenser, but unfortunately this is the old, gasoline-only pump which does not feature "Diesel."
Well, okay I made that up. I know I shouldn't blame things on groups that aren't really to blame, but the communist hacker lobby is very small, and not terribly powerful, and really if there is a communist hackers lobby they probably wouldn't think twice about hacking the blog poll just to create all sorts of chaos.
Some of you have written in to say that the poll is not acting properly. For one, it keeps putting its elbows on the table. And it won't use its napkin - it sort of wipes its blog poll hands on its pants when no one is looking. I've tried to duplicate these problems - even going so far as to buy it a bucket of KFC (original recipe) but no luck. If you can figure out what the poll is doing, and more importantly why it is doing it, I would be grateful. Right now I have 9 votes and 5 dots on the map. That seems a little strange, but I assume people are telling their friends in the same cities and those people are voting. Of course, I voted, but there's no dot on State College, which means that I must live in Houston. This would explain the total and complete lack of snow this year, but doesn't explain why Henry would go to the trouble of buying a snow blower.
Blog Disclaimer: The Blog Hero Legal Team, that being Sven, has asked me to post the following disclaimer that is completely legally binding as soon as you started reading "Blog Disclaimer" which occurred about 20 seconds ago. Blog Hero, Blog Hero Incorporated, The Blog Hero Board of Directors, and Sven, are not responsible for the casting of aspersions on any communist hackers who may or may not have hit my blog poll today. All communist hackers should be advised that this post is merely bad satire and should look elsewhere for more interesting and important blogs to hack. Thank you.
I received this error message while using Yahoo's mail service. I'm not even sure what to do about it at this point. I mean, I know there's something wrong...but what?
Here's another one I encountered today:
 Now, I know some of you will be tempted to do this - if only due to the high cost of gasoline - but whatever you do, do NOT put diesel in your car!
This tip comes from Alert Reader Tammy, who may or may not be my wife and may or may not be at the dealer having the innards* of our car sucked dry. Apparently on the way back from a home schooling convention this weekend Tammy noticed that the car was starting to run low on gas. She pulled into a gas station that she has frequented in the past but something was different. The gas station combined the diesel and the gasoline pumps into one pump with two handles - one for diesel (green in color) and one for gasoline (red in color.) Here the story gets fuzzy, but apparently the green nozzle was put in the car but the buttons for the red nozzle's gasoline were pressed. Some sort of liquid came out of the pump and went into the car. Alert Diesel Selector Tammy then drove away and about two miles later the car started belching loudly. I mean belching like too much Chinese Stir-Fry on Chinese Stir-Fry Wednesday. So she pulled over, checked her receipt (she had one of those feelings) and it said. . . DIESEL! Not only that, but scary music played and the camera shook wildly.
Fortunately, the last time I considered renewing our AAA coverage I thought, "What if Tammy fills the car with Diesel and she's a hundred miles from home?" So I bought the free 100 mile towing-if-you-fill-your-car-with-diesel plan. Also fortunately, if you believe in that sort of thing, was that some friends who had gone to the same home schooling show were just 10 minutes behind Tammy. They were able to bring the kids home while Tammy waited for the tow truck.
So, how much does it cost to have the innards* sucked dry of diesel? We're not sure yet, but should know by the end of the day.
*Yes, this post was just a clever way for me to get to write "innards" twice. Thank you.
I received at least one comment about my grub situation. An email came in from Alert English Reading Teacher Beth about the grubs, and that I really don't want grubs, and never, ever, EVER, have sympathy for a grub because as soon as you turn your back the grub will start telling all of your friends about that time you had too much of the spiked punch and started doing Barry Manilow karaoke much to the dismay of yourself and everyone within earshot. So that's apparently a grub for you; it would just as soon poke you in the eye with a sharp stick as look at you.
So, to allay everyone's fears, I should explain that the grub alert was just part of a radio commercial and not an actual diagnosis of lawn grubs. Although, if I had to choose between having my lawn cursed by an old gypsy woman or having lawn grubs, I would probably...sing karaoke with Barry Manilow.
"Her name was Lola...she was a show girl..."
King Tut says "Hello" and sends his regards to everyone reading the blog. No, really, I have it in writing. Oh, okay, I made that up never mind. He's actually been dead for a very long time. Almost as long as the milk in my fridge has been expired.
It's taken a few days to recover from our foray into the city. Alert Infrequent Reader and Good Friend Lisa refers to me as "Country Mouse" now, which apparently is NOT a Disney reference but refers to some other children's story where there is a country mouse and a city mouse, and at the beginning of the story the country mouse goes to the city to visit her cousin the city mouse, but on the way gets off at the wrong subway exit and is mugged, losing her iPod full of Garth Brooks, her cash and debit card, and her roll-behind luggage. I'm not sure what happens after that; I think she files a police report but they don't investigate because, well, she's a country mouse but later there's an investigation and several city police mice are indicted. I think a politician gets involved and there are ruined careers and lots of 24 hour cable news shows end up interviewing everybody. Country mouse goes back to the country and decides not to see King Tut visit the city ever again, or at least not for three hundred years.
What do you mean you haven't heard of this story either?
In any event, I'll have photos and stories about our trip up soon. Just as soon as I put Google Adsense on here, because they I can deduct the entire trip as a business expense. Well, I'm going to pretend that I can do that until I speak to an accountant who will probably just laugh at me, and then kick me out of his office but not before he takes my iPod and debit card.
It was interesting reading the news after coming back home and finding out that 11 people were shot to death in Philadelphia over the weekend. Of course, Philadelphia is a large place and there are a lot of people (with and without iPods) so that number may seem large (particularly to the 11 people involved) but maybe it's not as dramatic as it sounds.
One of the highlights of the trip, though, would have to be when we left Philadelphia - immediately hitting traffic that was stopped. It took us one hour (and I am not making this up) to go three miles. I'll share what the cause of that was later...
 Okay, so I took Alert Salad Consumer Tammy out to dinner last night where she had a, well, salad. I had the hot turkey sandwich - you know, some hot turkey, stuffing, bread, mashed potatoes - which was quite tasty but about three-quarters through the meal I realized that I hadn't portioned each side dish properly and I was going to end the meal with left over stuffing! Ahhh! Then I realized that it was probably strange that I had to take bites of each of the different sides at a time. THEN I realized that I did this with most of my meals. Which made me wonder, is this okay or some sort of warning sign?
So here's my vital research: leave a comment and let me know, do you:
A. Mix your food,
B. Eat it separately,
C. Just eat so you can get finished before Wheel of Fortune comes on?
Whew! Thanks in advance. Those of you who are mixers can feel free to share tips on how to maintain that delicate balance until the end of the meal.
The last day or so was pretty weird, as far as experiences on the Internet go. And Internet Experiences are weird as a general rule, so I suppose that's saying something.
The gunman who killed 32 people at Virginia Tech, and wounded so many others, was found with two words scrawled on his arm. You would think that if a derranged gunman was found with words scrawled on his arm that it would be big news. The mainstream media doesn't appear to think so; the Internet definitely did.
After the Chicago Tribune announced to the world what these words were a flurry of Internet searches were underway as people tried to figure out what it meant. My theory is that people are trying to make sense of something that is basically senseless. I know there will be a lot of talk about mental illness, depression, medication, video games, parenting, trans-fats, second-hand cigarette smoke, etc., but in the end a killer made a choice. It was evil. I'm talking Old Testament type evil. At least, that's how I see it.
But if we can call this search a "mob" then two people were innocently caught in the stampede. A blogger named EldaRossell had posted a picture of a friend of hers on Flickr. The photo posting, unfortunately, included the word "Ismail" and was of a South Korean. That would have been enough, but it also had a name associated with it that was similar to the Virginia Tech shooter's name.
I can only imagine the email that she received from people who came to the conclusion that the man in the photo and Cho were the same. I've been on the receiving end of some ugly email (It's hard to avoid as a blogger, and I'm sure my email experiences are mild) and it's terrible. A lot of email came into AccuWeather.com during the redesign blog (some of you might remember that...) that was senseless and ugly. But you can shake your head about that; it's only weather.
I posted here a translation of two of EldaRossell's posts that mentioned Flickr photo. Both posts were crudely translated (I admit, my knowledge of Indonesian is about as good as my French) via the web and suggested the two people were in fact different. But up to the point at which EldaRossell deleted her Flickr photo people were still speculating that it could all work out and that they were the same person.
My email/comments has gotten pretty weird in the last day as a result of the translated posts. Here's a snapshot of what happened to the blog traffic:
I was joking with Alert Listener Tammy that this is slightly analagous to running a store and having 20 customers a day and then, all at once, 800 people come through the door, mill about, and then leave without buying anything. My point was that increased blog traffic is actually worthless if you're not selling anything. Or have any ads. Or have, you know, a reason for being. In fact, it's a net negative because you have to spend time reading all of the comments. And yes, the comments get weird when you get a traffic bump like that, over a topic like this.
As a result, I have done something I've never done before: deleted comments. Just comments that were crude or didn't make any sense, or were just trying to needlessly fan the flames of conspiracy-type theories. In one or two cases I tried to contact the commenter to get clarifications, but the email addresses provided were bogus. I hate deleting comments. I think blogging needs to be about transparency and an open dialog, but there is also a responsibility we all have when it comes to speech. I think many of us have forgotten that, particularly on the Internet.
Well, end of pointless rant. Thanks for listening. Stop by Elda's blog and wish her well, she could probably use a nice email or two.
I've been sick for several weeks now and can't seem to get better. That made me think about all of the people who get pneumonia and die. I wondered if, when their illnesses begin, how many of them think "This will probably turn into pneumonia and kill me." I'm guessing very few, which is probably a bummer because if they knew that the cold or whatever they had would turn into pneumonia and kill them they would probably organize their lives differently. For example, they would probably eat a whole lot more ice cream. They probably wouldn't watch so much television either, but might rent a few movies. (Comedies, maybe? I'm thinking Monty Python "I'm not dead yet!" type stuff.)
In any event, if Spring ever arrives in State College I may get better. Easter morning we awoke to all of the ground (sans sidewalks and streets) covered in white. It was quite the shock in a Mother-Nature-Comes-Up-To-You-And-Slaps-You-In-The-Face sort of way. The weird thing (well, the weirder thing) was that all of the snow melted sometime between 1-3pm. And then it was snowing again later in the afternoon. I blame global warming or the end times*, as I'm pretty sure weird weather is one of the signs of the end, sandwiched in there between Anna Nicole Smith and Plague of Meteors.
In the meantime I'm not skimping on any ice cream.
*I think I'm going to add an "end times" category to the blog, just because the signs are all around us. This weekend we actually got into the Waffle Shop, a local breakfast restaurant, with almost no wait. This was either because of the aforementioned end times or because it was Easter Sunday and who really goes to a breakfast restaurant on Easter Sunday? Sadly, though, the Waffle Shop does not serve ice cream.
Pictionary, for those of you not in the know, is a tool of the devil created by Hasbro. Well okay that's a little harsh. I actually enjoy Pictionary, except for the part at the end where I (and my team member) inevitably lose. We had some friends over last week and we played Pictionary. Whenever you play Pictionary you have to have a partner, and this partner is almost always your spouse, as it is terribly bad form to say "Ooh! Let's all exchange spouses for this game!"
My spouse is Alert Pictographer Tammy, who ordinarily draws and guesses with the kind of mental acuity reserved for Mensa members. However there were at least two incidents in this particular game of Pictionary that probably sank our chances at victory although I'm not actually saying that or blaming anyone or being bitter. I will let you, the Alert Reader, decide.
The first incident involves an "All Play." This is where every team gets an opportunity to drawn the same object, and whoever can guess it first wins. (If it's your turn and you win, you get to roll the dice and advance. Otherwise you lose the turn and it advances to the next team.) I thought I had this one nailed, and here's what I drew:
You can now play along at home. What did Carl draw? Was it:
A. A Daisy
B. Jimmy Hoffa
C. A Fire Extinguisher
D. None of the Above
If you guessed A CLOWN you would be right! But Alert Interpreter Tammy just stared at the paper unable to guess CLOWN. CLOWN. Again, I am NOT BITTER. Just for the record though that line underneath the CLOWN is me beginning to drawn arrows AT THE CLOWN because aside from drawing fire engines and big feet and squirting flowers and bottles of seltzer that was about as good a CLOWN as a person can draw under pressure.
That was the first incident, which I will forever refer to as the CLOWN INCIDENT and everyone will know exactly what I mean or I will go into painful detail to explain what I mean including taking this picture out of my wallet and passing it around because yes I am saving it forever. The second incident involves this picture by Tammy. This was not an All Play and I had all the time in the world to guess it:
Give up? I almost did, until I had the paper turned for me (whoops!)
Ah ha! I bet you think you know what this is. Is it:
A. A Wing from KFC
B. The Southeast United States
C. Washington D.C.
D. Jimmy Hoffa
If you guessed MARYLAND you would be right! Look again! That's actually Maryland up there! Now, it wasn't the fact that I didn't get this right that was particularly disturbing, and I mean disturbing like you come home at 2 am and open the garage and there's a man standing there dressed like a scarecrow and holding a gigantic scythe disturbing - no, what was really disturbing is that Alert Cartographer Tammy insisted I should have gotten this immediately!*
So, I guess I'm not going to shock you when I tell you that we lost. Not only did we lose, but we lost big. I mean, really big.
Jimmy Hoffa big.
*The Blog Hero wishes to add this late-breaking disclaimer for his own personal safety and say that Alert Artist Tammy did a far better job at drawing, overall, than did her graphic designer husband and that really, if she had just had the good sense to trade spouses at the beginning of the game she would have won. But that still doesn't look anything like MARYLAND.
Gas has soared 31 cents a gallon in the past month, according to this Reuters article written by some writer who doesn't live in State College, Pennsylvania, where gas has actually soared 40 cents a gallon in the past month. Of course while that's not fair to those of us in State College there's a perfectly rational explanation.
(Insert perfectly rational explanation here.)
Many of you are not aware that State College is actually a separate country. Our full name is the State College Autonomous Sovereign Dictatorship of Penn State, and as a autonomous sovereign dictatorship we apply steep tariffs on all imported fuel. This usually results in the cost of a gallon of gasoline being a full ten cents to four dollars above the national average.
But why such a steep tariff? Well, two words: Cows. If you know anything about the SCASDoPS, you know that our main export here is cows. Below is a country map showing our major exports:
It's pretty much cows. And a lot of cows means a lot of, well, cow-gas. And cow-gas tends to create global warming, which is also created by... yes, the sun. But in addition to the sun, global warming is created by cars. And cars run on gas. So, that's why we have the tariffs.
So the next time YOU think you have it bad at the pump, just remember us here in State College and...go eat a hamburger. With or without cheese.
First of all, I should report that we're on the mend. The Schaads have been fighting some (rather bizarre) illnesses but most of them have passed. I'm still suffering from a bout of bruxism, but it's not as bad as it sounds and my medical team assures me that they won't have to amputate. Probably.
 Ready...Aim... This post (and the title) are dedicated to Alert Soon to be Former Cashier Tammy, who gave her two week notice today at Target as the holiday shopping crush is over and there's just no challenge anymore. Well, there was briefly - the Valentine's Day stampede - but that really wasn't much to write about and well it's past. I'm encouraging her to find a job somewhere really bizarre so that I'll have something else to write about. Maybe she should go into Snow Blower/Snow Mobile sales. Or meteorology...
In any event, the title of this post refers to the awful stink that has descended, not unlike some mythological cloud of doom (or Horse Face), on Tammy's Honda CRV. I call it the Honda Stink-RV now because it smells so bad. Apparently, Alert Night Driver Tammy must have hit a skunk, or driven over a recently deceased skunk, or driven right through a huge convention of thousands of raving-mad inebriated skunks, because one night I went out to the garage to go somewhere and the next thing I know I was being awoken the next morning by rough shaking. The kids tell me that I must have passed out from the stink.
At this point I may not have fully communicated how bad I think the car smells. I guess words fail me. I did fulfill my husband-like duties and checked all of the wheel wells for a hiding skunk, either dead or alive. I also checked under the hood by rapping my fist loudly on the hood and saying, in an authoritative voice, "Helloooooooooooo Skunk!" (There was no answer and really by then I was feeling faint again so I had to go back inside.)
I've been told that the mortal enemy of the skunk is the ripe tomato, in the same way that vampires hate garlic. The best I could do today was a can of tomato soup, which I threw on the driver's side door because that's usually where I have to go in. It was then that I noticed it wasn't tomato soup, it was actually Sirloin Burger with Country Vegetables. So needless to say I didn't notice any immediate smell improvement, but now I have chunks of potatoes and green beans on the car.
At least the skunk will eat well tonight.
Actually I don't have blogging stress (well, see below) but wanted to apologize for not posting recently and commenting on Britney Spears or Anna Nicole Smith. I know you've been waiting with bated breath to see what I would say about either topic.
Right now the Schaads are having complicated health issues and that has been taking up some extra time. Not extra time like we get 26 hours a day, but extra time like we now eat less and don't go to the bathroom as much, and making the bed is right out.
I was wondering this morning if I'm also exhibiting stress symptoms but then I thought, what do I have to be stressed about? On the surface, nothing. But then I realized that someone who blogs about the Japanese Mafia, Aliens and Meteorologists is probably under quite a bit of stress because you're only one post away from making one of those groups so furious that they beat you into unconsciousness with an anemometer and then tattoo cold fronts all over your prone body. Or something.
The weather in State College has turned warm, and all of the dirty snow is beginning to sink, not unlike the Wicked Witch of the West, into shorter and shorter piles that look dirtier and dirtier, until you forget about ever loving snow and you just want it to rain really hard for a few hours to clean things up.
 Normally I don't discuss this sort of economic news. I mean the news where some company cuts a bunch of jobs. Because, really, that's pretty depressing. But when I read this article I had to comment because chocolate is involved.
My grandmother, who passed away some years ago, lived in Hershey, PA.* We visited from time to time and you could actually smell the chocolate being made. It was all over the town. It's really hard to describe. I remember, as a brain-damaged sugar-crazed youth thinking that it must be wonderful to live in Hershey, PA. Any time you wanted to you could just open your windows and smell chocolate. Sort of like living in Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Now as an old stick-in-the-mud adult I think that smelling chocolate would get old after about a week-and-a-half.
The other thing I noticed about the article is that the company is cutting jobs because (or as a result) it is moving production to Mexico. That strikes me as odd; U.S. factories are moving to Mexico, and people from Mexico are crossing into the U.S. to find work.
Maybe they're tired of smelling chocolate too.
The Blog Hero, who employs the high-power law firm of Yurgi, wishes to express in a sincere and legally-appropriate way that today's posting about the Glorious Hershey Company (who owns the rights to aforementioned chocolate kiss man®™), makers of extremely tasty American and Mexican confectionary, is not designed to reflect in any way, positively, negatively or ambidextrously, on the Magnificent Hershey Company and/or its decision to move any part of its Company therein to any other country, be they countries co-joined or countries un-co-joined, or to fire its employees be they sudden, irrevocable dismissals without benefits or gentle persuasions of extreme early retirement. The Blog Hero also wishes to state its empathy towards the masses of potential future citizens swarming from other countries, be they countries co-joined or countries un-co-joined, that swarm in a manner befitting legal guidelines and regulations there of, and forth with, et cetera et cetera.
*Bonus points if you can tell what I linked to here. Sort of a Post-Valentine's Day Special.
It's entirely possible that I briefly posted a whole bunch of junk comments. I certainly hope this was not the case, and if so I hope that no one had to see that. It's bad enough I have to read through them (they're quite profane and it's very discouraging, really) so I apologize if you caught the page at the wrong moment. If you ever find anything like that on the site feel free to email me, so it can be removed. And thanks! The life of a Blog Hero is, unfortunately, filled with villainy and the minions of evil. (I mean, I'm fighting the minions of evil, not hiring them or anything.)
First, I want to officially be the Last Person on Earth to let you know that upstate New York got four billion inches of snow, and it's going to keep snowing there indefinitely. The final snowfall total will be between five and eight billion inches. There are mass reports of people losing their snow blowers in the snow, and those that have snow blowers apparently take them outside only to watch them choke and die. Below is a chart to illustrate the snow levels for those in the audience who are visual learners:
So, I hope that clears that up.*
Anyway, the actual subject of this post is not the snow in upstate New York, although sure they're gloating about it and, well, good for them. The subject of this post is also not about pulling a pan of brownies out of the oven without an oven mitt. Although, since you asked, I'm going to take this opportunity to rant about the state of adhesive bandage packaging. (You'll note I did not say "Band-Aid®" packaging, as I don't want to tromp all over their trademark.)
The state of adhesive bandage packaging is very grim, not unlike the situation for mail delivery personnel on Ganymede in upstate New York. Sure, the packages look great when you buy them at the store. And they fit nicely on your shelf/in your medicine cabinet when you get them home. But when you've just grabbed a hot pan of brownies in the oven without an oven mitt, the boxes are impossible to open. So, sure, you rip them apart with your one good hand and your teeth, only to watch adhesive bandages fly everywhere. And when you've finally picked one up and tried to open it? Yes, exactly: it's like mud wrestling with an angry, sleep-deprived, humorless African Porcupine.**
But this post isn't really about humorless African Porcupines. It's about the coming snow storm. Certain meteorologists at AccuWeather, who may or may not own snow blowers and will rename maimless***, are calling for a big northeast storm which will dump many inches of snow on State College. This is a great week to predict such a thing, as Alert Automotive Operator Tammy, who may or may not be my wife, has much driving to do. However, on the other hand (the one without adhesive bandages,) this is a horrible week to predict such a thing because we're in State College, Pennsylvania - not upstate New York.
Just in case, though, I've brought the giraffe indoors.
*Bonus points to anyone who actually looked up the diameter of Ganymede and converted it to feet just to check my math.
**Of course, this describes much of life.
***I actually meant to type "remain nameless" but this is how it came out and I liked it so much I just kept it.
In the interest of complete and total blogger transparency I'm going to share one of my irrational fears. Irrational would be "not governed by or according to reason" and fear would be "an unpleasant often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger." Thanks M-W.com.
So there you go. My (one of mine) irrational fear has to do with the security/merchandise/detector thing you see in most stores. They seem to work - sort of. I've observed people leaving the store through them, and have seen all sorts of lights and alarms going off but (oddly enough) no one goes over to help his poor chap who, for all we know, has stuffed 8 Wiis down his pants. And with no one to talk to he's forced to shuffle through the exit so that the beeping will stop.
My fear is sort of the opposite of that one. My fear is that I have no merchandise, no products, not even a flyer from the store but I have this feeling of dread that as I pass between those security bars something will happen. Okay, it never happens but I worry about it all the same. And I know that even if they do go off that everything can get squared away - it's not like eight Target (for example) personnel are going to leap out of hiding and subdue me with tasers.
Well, I'm glad that's off my chest. Does anyone out there have an irrational fear they'd like to get off their chest? I'll allow anonymous comments for a brief time only... Good Luck!
Note: Some of you have commented on the various typos in this post. All I can say is that this is the last time I dictate a post to Mysty. Her typing is awful. That, and she kept taking breaks to chew on the mouse cord.
Our family has been experiencing every kind of illness since Christmas. We take turns with the vomiting, usually in this order: Connor, Cassie, Tammy, Carl. And by turns I mean each person has the illness for 2-3 days. I just recently experienced something new; a moderate fever, chills, insomnia, and a horrible horrible headache. As of tonight, 11:43, I'm feeling better although very worn out. I'm off to bed soon, but wanted to apologize for the dearth of posts. Mostly so that I could use the word "dearth."
So forgive me as I ramp up here again and get to some email in the next day or so...
A number of Alert Readers have sent me links on Christmas light displays which I'm sorting through. I wanted to apologize for the delay on that - it's been an unusually busy Christmas season this year. And speaking of which, does it seem like there are people EVERYWHERE this year? I can't go to a single store without the parking lot being filled all the way to New Jersey. And trust me, it's a long walk from the front of the store to New Jersey, even IF the weather is unusually hospitable this year.
Hopefully I'll get through my email this weekend, although Alert Cashier Tammy is working Saturday and Sunday ('til close!) and I'll be preparing for visiting family...
Some miscellaneous whining this morning - I have an RSS reader set up with a search for "LEGOs" on EVERY SINGLE Craigslist website. Craigslist is sort of an on-line classifieds system that is city-based, so there's a site for New York, Atlanta, etc. There IS a site for State College but I think four people go to it.
After months of checking this enormous RSS feed I still haven't found any LEGOs worth purchasing. The posts seem to fall into three categories:
1. LEGO collection! Moving, must sell. 405 pounds, won't ship - $5000 firm.
2. XBOX Mod! Includes LEGO Star Wars.
3. Wanted: I'll purchase your LEGOs for $1.
This isn't much to work with. My army-building has stopped cold. If anyone sees any LEGO people roaming the streets, looking lost and hungry, and shippable and purchase-able for less than $5000 let me know.
Nothing's* more disappointing than getting an email notifying you of a new comment to a particular blog post only to click on the email and then discover that the comment is "Viagara" or some other spam. And it's always spelled incorrectly just to defeat the automatic spam detection software some people have (not me, apparently) because, you know, that software can screen out "Viagra" but just goes completely bonkers when it sees "Viagara."
*Okay I made that up there are plenty of things more disappointing than this, like this coming season's snowfall total for State College, but I'm exaggerating for effect.
Is there an email subject line more miserable than that? Probably not. But to add insult to injury, the email goes on to say "Here are some other items that you didn't bid on but in your sorry dejected state might be tempted to otherwise purchase." Nevermind that I didn't win "C@@L Lego Star Wars Guy" and am now offered an opportunity to bid on "Antique Hat Box."
Sigh.
I had a low tonight. A low being a blood sugar low, or hypoglycemia. Generally, a plasma glucose level of below 70 mg/dl is considered "low." The reason any of this is a problem is because the brain gets starved of fuel (glucose) and starts to freak out. In this regard the whole situation is very similar to Kryptonite*.
Lows are nasty. The insidious part of diabetes, which I have never read in any of the material that I've been handed or heard from any of the medical experts I've seen, is that you can have high blood sugar and feel almost normal - but if you have a low you'll feel horrible. And in life we tend to avoid pain. This leads to a lot of diabetics, I believe, having a few lows and then saying "Aw the heck with it" and staying high. Of course, long term the Really Big Pain sets in when your vision deteriorates or you have nerve damage. But that day is way down the road, and today is today right?
The symptoms of low blood sugar vary a bit from person to person, but for me usually involve: shaking, irritability, perspiration, fatigue, weakness, lethargy, hunger, and anxiety.
The worse recorded low I've had is 23, but that sort of thing is very rare. Tonight I was 46. When I hit the 40s something happens in my brain and the "hunger switch" is turned on. I feel a compulsion to eat until I feel better. On the one hand this makes perfect sense; my brain is starving (pause for jokes, continue) so the brain is going to make sure that it gets fed. On the other hand, if I eat until I feel better I will overshoot big time, because the food doesn't break down into glucose that quickly. The only way to mitigate this sort of thing is better blood sugar control to begin with, or for Alert Reader Tammy to watch my carbs and tazer me after I've had enough.
So I was downstairs, eating a PBJ sandwich and potato chips and this thought occurred to me: "What do they do with the unused portion?" You know, when you have a problem with some sort of food and you want a refund, they make you mail in the unused portion. This thought occurred to me because the potato chips were unusually salty. This may have been my problem, because I had a starving brain and who knows how things taste to a person with a starving brain. But that made me think - if I wanted to get a refund because my chips were too salty, I would probably have to mail in the unused portion.
So then I was wondering what the unused portion thing was all about. I could only come up with three possibilities:
1. There's a team of crack food scientists standing by whose sole job is to test incoming unused portions to find out what went wrong.
2. Corporate Lawyers won't allow any refunds unless unused portions are provided, for Legal Reasons, and these unused portions are stored in a vault somewhere in Idaho until/in case a legal challenge materializes.
3. The whole thing is just a ploy to discourage people from asking for a refund.
This is all I could come up with between salty chips, and was forced to conclude it was probably... 3. But just when I had reached that conclusion, I had eaten one chip too many and Alert Reader Tammy tazered me.
*No, the other doomed planet Krypton.
**If for any reason you're not satisfied with tonight's posting, return the unused portion to bloghero@carlschaad.com for a complete refund just as soon as our scientists and lawyers are done examining it. Thank you.
I need everyone's help. At what age do I begin wearing black socks?
I ask this because I was driving home through our development today and saw a gentleman out on his lawn, in shorts, black socks pulled up almost to his knees, and black shoes. It occurred to me then that I was looking into my future. As I drove by him in slow motion I stared and our eyes met, and he smiled and waved. Then I saw myself smiling and waving. Cats in the Cradle by Harry Chapin was playing. Somewhere a dog barked.
Okay, that's just how the scene will be shot for my biopic one day. But at some point I apparently will be seized with the desire (nay - yearning?) to get rid of my white, New Balance sneakers and white socks and go all black. At this point I can't understand why that would ever happen, but I also never knew that one day "the music these dang kids listen to is way too loud."
So what am I looking at here? 60? 50? 47? Leave a comment and let me know how much time I have left...
My headache, which started Sunday morning, is still hanging around. I think though that I finally figured out what might be happening. My suspicion is that it's caused by a neck-compression-thingy that I've had in the past. Tonight my neck feels like it's being crushed by my head, as if my brain grew three sizes too big and now my head is too heavy for my body. If it is some sort of nerve thing it would explain why taking enough ibuprofen to kill an Argentinosaurus hasn't done much. Incidentally, an Argentinosaurus is apparently the largest, heaviest, always-picked-first-for-team-sports dinosaur ever to walk the earth according to whomever wrote that Wikipedia entry. You can find a drawing of Argy here, which was created after they found two bones. Okay, I made that up but sometimes you have to wonder how they get these pictures.
Here's a size comparison between your average Argentinosaurus and the Statue of Liberty:
Size comparison between your average Argentinosaurus and the Statue of Liberty. Statue of Liberty appears at left, and your average Argentinosaurus appears at right. The Argentinosaurus is much bigger.
While we're on the subject, here's a size comparison between your average Argentinosaurus, the Statue of Liberty, and my headache - graphically depicted as an anvil:
Size comparison between your average Argentinosaurus, the Statue of Liberty, and my headache - graphically depicted as an anvil. Statue of Liberty appears at left, and your average Argentinosaurus appears at right. The giant anvil which graphically depicts my headache is in the background there.
Sigh.
Current Mood: 
I'm grumpy tonight because I called One Touch about my son's InDuo blood sugar meter/insulin doser. The insulin doser is going bad as the electronic display is starting to lose some of those lines that make up the numbers. So instead of seeing this:
He'll get something like this:
Needless to say, that's not really a good thing. The doser clicks as you dial up each unit of insulin, but I would rather he have something that works. So I called - One Touch has been very helpful in the past - thinking that I could get a new meter and a new doser. (I had problems with my own InDuo before and knew from my own call that they no longer make the InDuo.) Well I found out that instead of providing a free doser replacement via Novo Nordisk, NN will now send you a "refund" and you have to find a doser yourself. I spent about 20 minutes searching online and can't find anything, although I'm told that they're available from most pharmacies. With hundreds of dollars of insulin in storage downstairs, it's pretty important to find the right doser. Hopefully I'll have better luck tomorrow at the "brick and mortars."
Chris forecasting has taken an interesting turn. The NHC has it moving more south than their earlier track, which takes it right through the islands. (Link) AccuWeather still has it heading through the uprights for a goal, as you can see below:
This track seems to be taking Chris towards the southern tip of Texas (Hello, Brownsville) which would keep Albuquerque* safe unless it makes four left turns at some point. And not only is there a track difference, but by Monday AccuWeather is saying it will be a cat 1-2 hurricane, while the NHC has it as a tropical storm. Whose Forecast will Reign Supreme? Stay tuned...
*One down!
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