sitboaf

How to be a great photographer

2010-08-08T07:41:00.001-04:00

1. Go to Venice
End

God Bless America

2010-07-06T23:35:00.002-04:00

Wifely Wiferson decided that enjoying our extra day off this July 4th weekend wouldn't be complete without some ice cream. We drove to one of the many nearby restaurants that specialize in New England's favorite treat, ordered, and indulged ourselves inside our air-conditioned car, out of the 96º heat.

Into the parking lot pulled a sedan driven by a man who was nearly as old as the temperature. I was trying to figure out why he sat in the car for a minute. Then I saw that he was sucking down a cigar the size of a tree branch.

Eventually he emerged, and slowly hunched his way inside to place an order. After nomming my ice cream for another couple minutes, out he came… with a hot coffee.

After a laugh, we set off for home, leaving him to suck down his vices – one in each hand.

I only had one thought driving home:
God Bless America.

Good Drivers and Better Drivers

2010-06-15T00:29:00.005-04:00

I'm a good driver. I suppose everyone thinks he or she is a good driver. Just like everyone thinks his or her IQ is above average.

How can I convince you that I am a good driver? Hmmm…
Well, I've never been at fault in an accident. The few times I've been bumped into were the fault of the other person.

I've even been backed into on a busy street. That was weird. "It's only rush hour, sir. Go ahead and put your car in reverse to let that guy from the oncoming lane take a left in front of you. I'll just sit here trapped in traffic, unable to do anything but honk and watch you strike my bumper." Genius. At least Mr. Reverse admitted it was a dumb thing to do.

Like everyone, I use some language in the car that I might not normally use. You know, when another driver cuts me off. Or goes too slow. Or can't decide where to turn. Or changes lanes eight times per mile while going 90 mph, to get a few car lengths in front of me on a busy highway. Or sits at a green light even after you honk three times for her to go. Or stops 2.5 car lengths behind the next car at a red light.
Or... well, you get the picture. You probably vent out loud sometimes, too.

Some individual streets in my city are notorious for such madness. After moseying along down a normally expeditious thoroughfare behind a semi-comatose driver at a robust 26 mph the other day, and after reciting all 50 states while said driver made a turn onto a side street, Wifely Wiferson coined the name "Lollygag Alley." I love her so.

The worst is that busy drag in the old part of town that has a million little businesses, side streets every 100 feet, way too many cars parked on either side and too many pedestrians sauntering across it.

"Yeah, I know there's a lot going on while traveling down this street, but can you go a tad faster? My speedometer needle is gonna break because it's constantly banging against the little peg next to the number zero. And yes, automobile brakes can be used to bring you to a stop at breakneck speeds, such as 20 or even 22 mph, that you are loathe to try. I know, because I've had to apply my own brakes every eleven feet or so. But of course, you must be wiser than me, for there is no actual danger if you continue at your current speed, because if you actually do hit a pedestrian, he won't even feel it!"

Sigh.

I've come to accept that the "overly experienced" drivers that I get stuck behind will not be dissuaded from their habits on that particular road. Not even by the 1.21 gigawatts of rage that I launch with my eyeballs at the backs of their heads. You see, they have only a single errand to do that day, and dadgummit, they're gonna take all day to do it.
This street we call the Blue Hair Parkway.

So, if my sense of superiority hasn't quite convinced you that I am a good driver, I also took this short test. I won't brag about how I did. Let's just say I didn't get any answers wrong.

The Great Organ

2010-06-13T22:20:00.002-04:00

It's not located in a church, but it is part of a religious experience.
Go hear the Great Organ at the Methuen Memorial Music Hall.
The sounds (and sights) truly inspire awe.

I Can't Help It

2010-06-02T22:15:00.004-04:00

I am a person you might describe as "self-amusable." I laugh at a lot of stuff, including my own goofiness.

And I can't help but use a little wordplay with certain company names.

Blockbuster? I got it stuck in my head that it's pronounced "Bock Bluster."

Dunkin' Donuts is usually "Drunken Donuts." Or for a fancier drink than coffee, it's got to be Fatty Starbuckles.

Shop and Save and Stop & Shop have been merged into "Stop and Shave." But I get my groceries at Hannaford… oops, that's "CantAfford."

Lumber? Home Despot. Burger King? Either Booger Sling or Murder King. I pronounce Target with a fine, French accent - Tar- ZHAY.

Okay, I'm a dweeb. But at least I'm not dangermouse.
Oops.
Dangerous!

Enough Already

2010-05-18T00:02:00.004-04:00

Does anyone not own enough pens, coffee mugs or t-shirts? I'm drowning in mine.

To be fair, the excess t-shirts aren't really a problem.
Those that aren't particularly attractive? You can work out in them, or do dirty work around the house. Cheap? When they wear out, you can turn them into rags and drop cloths.
Embarrassing saying on the front? Give them to charity.

Pens and pencils are a little harder. If you're doing serious writing, you're not using a cheap ballpoint with the name of a mortgage company on it. But you probably do need a few writing implements around the house. The trick is to place them in strategic spots for those times that you actually need one. And then you'll lose and replace 90% of them before they actually run out of ink or wear down to a nub.
I have Pac-Man pencils. From 1982. They're not worn down. Heck, some of them haven't been sharpened yet.

Coffee mug surplus is tough to deal with. Mugs don't wear out or break often, so the attrition rate is low. Nope, they just grow one at a time, hopelessly alone, never to be displayed as a set. And as for the actual sets that you've gotten - they just get pushed further back into your cabinets. Their only hope of reappearing is if they have reindeer or snowflakes on them, and you can use them for six weeks at the end of the year.

Or, maybe you can sit one on that table over there, and use it to hold all these damn pens.

Gone With The Intake

2010-05-07T10:13:00.003-04:00

The aquatic misadventures we've been experiencing are starting to sound like a bad murder novel. Our most senior frog, Sandy, was found dead after a brief search.

Remember how I was all sad when my good buddy Duke died? And how I was going to be a better landlord for my little froggies? Well, I cleaned their tank, bought them a filter, got a new cleaning crew (our third snail, Trip. Great name, right?!) and established a cleaning schedule.

But yesterday our newest frog, Jet, swam quickly into a hiding place at feeding time. Sandy was nowhere to be seen, either. After checking the usual hiding places - temple, pot, behind the heater - neither frog could be found... until I saw a leg inside the filter intake. Sandy was halfway in the tube. I frantically removed the filter, hoping for the best, but instead discovered the worst.

Perhaps the filter's intake is a little too strong, or perhaps its aperture a little too wide. Regardless, our little friend had become stuck and died.

Or did she?
Why was Jet hiding? Perhaps he overwhelmed his tankmate in a jealous rage and tried to hide the body.
I'll be watching you, Jet. And I'll be missing you, Sandy. I don't know what new life forms will occupy the tank, but there will be a healthy, crime-free environment inside that tank. This I pledge.

After all, tomorrow is another day.

We'll miss you, Duke

2010-04-22T23:06:00.004-04:00

I'm not sure when Earth Day will catch on as a holiday when large masses of people actually do something useful for our lovely planet, if ever. I'm just glad Mud Season is over, baseball is being played, and it's finally, actually, certainly, groundhog-be-damned SPRING.

Sadly, we lost our best frog buddy, Duke.
He was a gregarious frog, and quite curious. He liked to follow the action in the living room as best he could. He also liked to contort himself into funny positions to rest and sleep. However, "upside down" is not a good position for any aquatic life, and a quick poke confirmed the morbid truth.

You amused me greatly, Dukey. There will never be another like you. But maybe Sandy will get a new tank-mate soon. Having a tank with 2 frogs and a snail has been a learning process, and I resolve to keep my frogs in better health in 2010.

Hope spr… hops eternal.

The Inverse Food/European Latitude Formula

2010-04-11T00:22:00.002-04:00

It seems that the further north you go in Europe, the worse the food is.

Italian, Greek, French food = yum!
German food = hit and miss.
Irish, English, Swedish food = eww.

Perhaps it's because the south of Europe benefits from the mediterranean climate, and can grow more crops. Or is it better farm animals? Better seafood?

And why isn't Irish food just the most tasty fish imaginable? They live on an island! Instead we get potatoes and cabbage.

Image supplied by FreeFoto.com

Mud Madness!

2010-03-18T23:36:00.005-04:00

March is a darn interesting month. Why? The NCAA tournament is fun. And baseball Spring Training gets me excited for the National Pastime. Most interestingly, it's the start of Mud Season - New England's unofficial fifth season of the year.

Why a fifth season? Well, Winter kinda feels over. But huge dumps of snow often come after the clocks change.
Or after Spring's official start.
Or after April 1st. (Fooled you!)
Or after Easter.
Ugh.

Let's face it: Spring won't be here for a while, kids, no matter what the calendar or the groundhog says.
I'm guessing Mud Season runs until about April 15th, when the last real threat of snow is over, and you aren't in danger of sinking up to your mid-calf when you take your first rose-colored strides onto your lawn to rake a few fallen branches.

But it is warmer. And moister. The ice cream stands are opening. Today, it was 65º, and it's still officially winter.
If you're still saying "bah" to the idea of a fifth season, then go ahead and pretend it's Spring.
I'll be laughing while you're clearing the snow off of your deck chairs.

Family traditions

2010-03-17T23:59:00.002-04:00

As many of you know, I am living in the house I was born into. Though I usually think of it as my grandmother's house - she lived here from the mid-'70s until she passed away a few years ago.

That's where I came in.

It's true that there wasn't a whole lot to do while visiting Grandma's house. But, there was always a jigsaw puzzle on the kitchen table, under a cloth (had to keep the cat away).

Now grandma's kitchen is my kitchen. But, there's still a jigsaw puzzle on the table.

I'm pretty sure it's safe from the frogs.

A Fallen Classmate

2010-02-28T23:44:00.004-05:00

Wifely Wiferson and I attended a fundraising tribute dinner last night. We paid for dinner, bought some raffle tickets, and bid on a framed sports photo. I made a small donation online.

It was for a guy that I went to high school with. I didn't know him very well. We never hung out. In fact, if I had run into him over the last few years, I wouldn't have known who he was - and vice-versa.

Maybe it seems an unlikely thing for me to attend. But, the man served his country after high school. He owned a small business. He had two children in college. He was fixing up a house so that he could sell it and use the money to provide protection for his family.

Except that he contracted a rare form of cancer, fought like hell, lost the battle, and left his family with a lot of debt. While I was learning of his plight a few days ago, I kept thinking one thing:

That could have been me.

We were the same age and grew up in the same area. That cancer could have afflicted me.

But, who would come to my tribute dinner? Who would take care of my medical bills? Who would make sure my kids finished college? Who would thank me for serving my country? Who would appreciate the goofy things I did or the fantastic iTunes playlists I'm good at making?

Who would remember me? Who would remember to care for the family I left behind?

I have so much, especially now that I'm recently married. I have a good wife, a good home, a good family, and most importantly, good health. I'm glad to help, even in a small way.

Eric, you may have lost the battle, but you're not going to lose the war.

Oh, it's not JUST cake

2010-02-12T22:52:00.002-05:00

What's better than birthday cake with good friends?
If you said "nothing is better than birthday cake with friends," you are a big fat liar.

Because in a perfect world, the cake is made of ice cream, and then you're given a pet unicorn.

I'm gonna go look for that unicorn in the backyard now.

Ain't it the Saints?

2010-02-08T23:46:00.003-05:00

I enjoyed Super Bowl XLIV very much, but maybe not for the reasons you expect.

Not for the commercials, which usually reek of desperation, like someone exec ordered the ad agency to use up the entirety of the huge special effects budget or else the Board of Directors would be angry. How about starting with "intelligent" or "clever" and saving a few hundred thousand dollars? There's people out of work.

Seeing The Who? I'm just glad two of them are still alive. For seniors, they still rock.

Am I satisfied because the Saints won? Somewhat. I am very happy for the organization and the city of New Orleans.

Was I glad that it was a close game? Yeah. No one likes a blowout, unless it's your favorite team laying down the hurt. Otherwise, it's boring.

Having a lot of friends over? So fun. We gave away prizes! (How is it that the one person who was sorta clueless about football guessed the score almost exactly and won first prize?)

Am I happy that the Colts lost? Now we're getting to the heart of the matter. Being a New England Patriots fan, I like seeing their rivals lose.

Is my satisfaction derived from Peyton Manning throwing up all over himself at a crucial moment?
Bingo!

Listen, I like Peyton Manning as a human being. He is great in commercials and doesn't take himself too seriously. He seems like a nice person. He works hard.

But I am sick and tired of people calling him the greatest quarterback ever.
He is undeniably great. He'll get voted into the Hall of Fame on the first ballot - and deservedly so. His numbers are gaudy, and I don't need to look them up to see how eye-popping they are.

But I need a guy to win the big games to call him the best ever. Let's not lose sight of the fact that Manning is 9-9 in playoff games. He has made crucial mistakes when games were on the line. He has one Superbowl ring, after his team beat a relatively weak 2006 Bears squad.

Listen, there's guys ahead of him who get into the playoffs and WIN. You want eye-popping numbers?
How about 4 wins and no losses in Super Bowls, with 11 touchdown passes, zero interceptions and a rating of 127.8? That's Joe Montana.
How about 4-0, with 8 TDs, 3 INTs, and a rating of 112.8? Terry Bradshaw.
How about a guy who is playing right now, with a 3-1 Superbowl record, 7 touchdown passes, one interception and a rating of 95.1? One Tom Brady.
Manning is 1-1 in the big game, with 2 TDs and 2 INTs. His rating is in the mid-80s.

So let's not compare him to the true greats. If he wins a second Super Bowl, people will be itching to anoint him as the greatest sports figure of all time. Feh. He doesn't deserve it, and I don't want fervent know-nothings to have any more ammunition with which to make a weak argument.
So, to avoid having to do this all over again, I'm gonna go ahead and hope the single Super Bowl ring is all he ever gets.

Also, he refused to shake hands after the game. Go make a face and cry then, Peyton. See you next year. Or with hope… not.

Love is in the dish

2010-02-08T10:42:00.002-05:00

What says "love" better than a nutrition-vacant bowl of cliches?
Actually, I have something special planned for Wifely Wiferson. Let's see if it works.

The Phantom Trilogy

2010-02-04T22:27:00.003-05:00

Who among us Gen-Xers wasn't completely captivated by the Star Wars franchise when we were young? Nothing I can yammer on about here will do any service to the Mt. Everest, the Zeus, of Science Fiction.

A good many of us were thrilled when we heard that another trilogy - a prequel - was being made by George Lucas. More Star Wars! How could this be anything except good news?

Well… I had been planning to write a giant blog post about how bad Episodes I, II and III are (so bad that they ruin the original trilogy!), but then I found someone that did it better.

Before I send you to this link, a few words of warning:
Though it only thoroughly explores The Phantom Menace, it also touches on the other two films.
It's harsh and unforgiving.
The language is not safe for work.
It's long - seven chapters, each 10 minutes long.
It's also one of the funniest things I've ever seen, all the while remaining dead on the money about how something so right can turn out so wrong.

If you are a Star Wars nerd, or if you thought the Prequel Trilogy was a disaster, you simply must watch this. I will never recommend anything so strongly ever again.

If you're not hooked after the first chapter, your money will be fully refunded.

"You must unlearn what you have learned."
- Yoda

If only I could, Yoda. If only I could.

News vs. Opinu-tainment

2010-02-02T22:44:00.002-05:00

I like to think I'm smart. I like to think I can gather facts and form an opinion. I like to think that if I'm well-informed, I can have a meaningful discussion with someone else.

I like to think. Period.

Which is why, when I turn on the television to get information about what's going on in the world today, I want facts. It's great if the facts come from lots of different sources. But really, I'm looking to just gather pieces of true information.

I do not watch television "news" to hear shouting, screaming, crying or histrionics.
Nor do I care about someone else's viewpoint. I can reach my own conclusions, thanks.
Nor do I want to hear someone tell me what my opinion should be, unless they proceed to intelligently back it up. I am perfectly capable of forming my own opinions.

Will I listen to informed viewpoints that differ from my own? Absolutely. I believe that's a great way to learn and add depth to my own intelligence.

But what do I learn by staring at someone who is screaming a crazed, one-sided, extreme version of my own opinion?

Nothing.

I take that back. I learn how to be lazy, reactionary, uninformed, abusive, dogmatic, and stupid.

Shoulder Update

2010-01-31T13:23:00.003-05:00

My smashed up shoulder is doing well. My energy level is returning, I can move my arm a bit more easily, and my discomfort has decreased.

Sleeping is still a little hard, but I mostly make it through the night with maybe one wake-up due to ouchies.

Five more weeks in the sling. I 'll re-update everyone when I get my follow-up x-ray and begin physical therapy.

I will spare you the pictures of my left bicep, which looks like it's been replaced with a 3-week-old banana.

This Equals Anger

2010-01-31T12:44:00.005-05:00

It's crap like this that makes you want to inflict hurt.

Thanks, T-Mobile, for wasting paper, postage, and a few peoples' time. I'm so glad I signed up for electronic billing.
Should I send you a check for $0.00?

Anyway, buh-bye. I have an iPhone and an AT&T plan now.
Jerks.

Stupid shoulder

2010-01-25T23:58:00.002-05:00

Well, Wifely Wiferson and I picked up our new cross-country skis and were eager to try them. We also found a promising XC course nearby. Weather on Sunday? Upper 30s. It was shaping up to be a great weekend.

Except the skis were brand new and longer than we were used to, and therefore quite slippery and hard to control. And the trails on the course were a bit more challenging than we expected. I fell a lot.

After a tricky morning session, and an afternoon of steep hills, we were ready to go home. I started down the last hill in a snowplow, to control my speed. Except the hill was steep and I was tired. I thought I would lose my snowplow and wipe out, so I went back parallel to coast down the last few yards of the hill.

And my skis crossed while moving at high speed.

BAM! I did a faceplant and came to rest on my side, in a lot of pain. I knew I was hurt when I couldn't move my left arm to get myself up. My friend came to the rescue and helped me up. I walked the last 1/3 of a mile to the lodge, where we gathered our stuff, and headed to the hospital.

X-rays can only reveal so much damage. In my case, an avulsion fracture of my upper left humerus. So here I am, in a sling, typing poorly. I am waiting to be referred to an orthopedist to (most likely) have an MRI. from there, we can see if my rotator cuff is messed up.

Considering I'm in very little pain (unless I move my left arm), I'm hoping the damage isn't too extensive.

I'm very lucky. I could have torn ligaments, or broken bones, or worse. Or, I could have hurt my right arm, which would be devastating. At least I am able to drive, use the mouse, and sign the 429 forms the hospitals throw at you.

But hospitals are another topic, for another rant…

Being Undertall

2010-01-21T00:33:00.003-05:00

I went to get a physical today. Everything seems in order, which is comforting.

The worst part wasn't the cold stethoscope, or the bedside manner of the doctor, or the "coal chute exam" that men should get to make sure their prostate is in good shape. No, the worst bit was the part where the nurse takes your B.P., pulse, and weighs and measures you.

Now, if you're five-foot, nine-and-a-half inches, you tell people that you're 5' 10". Maybe if you're five-nine-and-an-eighth inches, meh - you still tell people you're 5' 10".

When I was not very much younger, I could swear I was five eight-and-a-half. Or, in man-speak, five-nine. Close enough. Except last time I got a physical, I was "Just under 5' 8". And this time… Five-seven?!?

It seems that every time I go to the doctor, I'm shorter and heavier than last time. Is this possible? The weight gain I understand, but will I continue to shrink until I die? Will I become an Oompa Loompa? A sphere?

If this keeps up, soon I'll have to visit the big & tall shops - for the wrong reason.

Civil Rights Day?

2010-01-19T01:27:00.003-05:00

Most states observe a day named in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. But in New Hampshire, it's Martin Luther King, Jr. Civil Rights Day.
Is this an insult to Dr. King or just a matter of semantics? I suppose, insofar as civil rights has been an important issue in this country for over 50 years now, remembering heroes in addition to MLK is a good thing.

I chose to celebrate the holiday by watching a biography of the 1974 Muhammad Ali vs. George Foreman fight in Kinshasa, Zaire. Yes, the Rumble in the Jungle.

You can laugh, but Muhammad Ali has always been a hero to me. I'm not a Muslim, or black, or southern. I never participated in the Olympics or got drafted into the army. I never changed my name. I never went to jail. I don't fight, and while I occasionally "float like a butterfly," I have never "stung like a bee."

And I hope I never have to risk so much, so often, as did Ali.

Cassius Clay was a huge underdog when he got a shot at the champ, Sonny Liston, in 1964. He risked more the next day, when, as a newly-crowned champion, he announced that he was a member of the Nation of Islam and would renounce his slave name - asking a bewildered world to call him "Muhammad Ali." Three years later, Ali was stripped of his title, arrested, and banned from boxing for almost four years, in the prime of his career, for his refusal to be drafted into the army. (That decision was unanimously overturned by the Supreme Court in 1970.)

He returned to boxing to face a slew of terrifying opponents: Quarry (twice), Bonavena, Frazier (3 times!), Norton (3 times!), Patterson, Shavers... And he defied everyone's expectations by defeating George Foreman to regain his title, seven years after losing it.

Perhaps Muhammad Ali was the most charismatic sports figure who ever lived. And while he may not have been the original "trash talker," he may have been the first person to back up every boast he made.

But most of all, throughout all his trials, through all the unpopular decisions, through all the hatred he faced, he always, always stayed true to his principles.

He now travels the world and is a hero to millions. He is perhaps the most recognized and beloved person on earth.

A poor, dyslexic boy born in Louisville, Kentucky became a man who, in the chaos of the 1960s, had the courage to stand up and fight.
And to declare, "I shook up the world!"

R.I.P. Digger

2010-01-18T00:22:00.003-05:00

We lost a frog today.

Poor Digger had lately been far less energetic than when he earned his name. And over the last few days became even more lethargic and quite thin. This morning, I found him laying at the bottom of the tank, upside down. A bit of prodding confirmed his demise.

We sent him to the Great Frog Grotto and turned our attention to Duke. Duke seemed perfectly fine, but we worried that he would be lonely. So, as part of our errand-running this afternoon, we picked him up a new tankmate. We think it's a girl frog. Duke either decided she was a fine addition, didn't notice her, or thought Digger simply returned after a trip to the beauty parlor - she is not dark green like Digger and Duke, but more of a tan color.

We need a name for her. We'll let her personality dictate it, I suppose. Suggestions are welcome.

These are a few of my favorite Apps

2010-01-14T01:52:00.003-05:00

As I mentioned so recently, I am a huge fan of my new iPhone.
OK, the camera isn't great, and I still have my old iPod, with which I carry around my music.

But this device is magical.
Remember back when you started using the internet a lot, maybe 10 or 12 years ago? You learned how to use search engines, and found great information-packed sites like Wikipedia or IMDB?
And then remember the first time you were away from your computer, needed to know some information right away, and went a little batty because you couldn't get it? And you realized that the internet had changed the way you think? That it had altered your life?

The iPhone (my preferred brand of smartphone/PDA, and the one that has blown the industry sky-high) is changing my life all over again.

What's that, you say? Phone and camera and music together in a brick? Big deal.
How about all of your contacts, calendars, music, photos, movies, and TV shows wherever you are? That's good, right?

Now, how about multiplying all of this times the internet?
Now you can find out what's playing in the movie theater across town and order tickets. Or take a picture of something and instantly upload it to a blog, or get a restaurant review of that Indian place you just passed in whatever city you happen to be driving through.

Here are some of the more amazing (free!) apps that I've found in my short time as iPhone user:

Shazam - use the iPhone to hear a song and find out what the heck it is.
Tip and Split - calculate how to split your bill between multiple parties (including the tip size you desire).
SitOrSquat - shows you the nearest public restrooms!
UrbanSpoon - all restaurants, arranged by city, of whatever cuisine and expense you prefer, with reviews.
PS Mobile - do quick photo adjustments on your images.
Gorillacam - gives your built-in camera burst shots, time-lapse shots, and a self-timer.
And my favorite app so far…
Flixster - see box office returns, find local theaters and showtimes, buy tickets, see upcoming releases, see upcoming DVD releases, and view, add to, or rearrange your Netflix queue. All with one-touch trailer-viewing.

I like this new decade so far.

Happy New Decade!

2010-01-12T00:33:00.006-05:00

Happy New Y.. err, Decade!
At least, I hope it's a better decade than the one we just had.
Eww.

To all my faithful readers, who number in the ones, I apologize for the long delay. Like many, I traveled a lot during the height of the holidays. Wifely Wiferson and I visited her family in Florida, then mine in Virginia. It was unequivocally excellent.

After that, we had a long weekend/New Year celebration/First Anniversary getaway/Ski weekend up in the White Mountains. One year married! Holy crap! Yes, it's still awesome.

Martin Griff / The Times

And, I've been playing with my new iPhone a lot.
Woo-hoo! Best gift ever! (outside of the proverbial 12-year old girl who gets a pony, or the 16 year-old boy who gets a convertible) It's still new, and therefore a terrible time suck, but the convenience of having access to information is fabulous. And no more carrying a phone and an iPod and a camera everywhere I go.

The other reason for my delay is my own perfection. In 2009, I successfully motivated myself into writing more via this blog. And though my enthusiasm for sharing wacky stories, nice photos and sports musings has not waned, my enthusiasm for using 90 minutes to write a mere 250 words has.

Therefore, it is my New Years Resolution to write shorter posts, so as not to bore you, nor drain all my energy.

I've got a lot of ideas, so let's hope I can crank out two or three blog posts a week.
Because you deserve more of sitboaf in the teens… tens… whatever this decade is called.

Farewell, Mike Lowell

2009-12-10T23:32:00.005-05:00

He isn't a household name. He didn't win a batting title or hit 60 home runs. And, he only spent four years in Boston. He was "the throw-in player" in the deal that brought Josh Becket to Boston in November of 2005.

But third baseman Mike Lowell, recently traded to the Rangers, will be one of the most loved and missed athletes in recent Boston Red Sox memory.
Why?

Because when you think of Mike Lowell, you think "third baseman." But you immediately think of these things, too:

Cancer survivor.
Family man.
Philanthropist.
Hard worker.
Great teammate.
Veteran presence.
Clutch performer.
Class act.

In 2003, Lowell and Josh Beckett won the World Series with the Florida Marlins. In 2007, Lowell hit .324, and led the Red Sox in games played, hits, and RBI. He played outstanding defense. And his excellence carried into the postseason, where he was named World Series MVP for the champion Boston Red Sox.

Every professional athlete strives to become a champion. And every teammate of Mike's on that 2007 roster will be fondly remembered by Red Sox Nation for bringing home that second trophy of the decade.

I wish Mike the best of luck in Texas, and wherever else he may play before his career ends. Because he will be remembered for more than what his '07 teammates will.

Mike Lowell is what a professional athlete should be.

Sick of The Weather

2009-12-09T16:55:00.003-05:00

I know Winter isn't even officially here yet, but I'm tired of the bad weather. Recently, we had a rain/snow/hail mix falling - something I had never seen. This morning's snowstorm brought almost a foot of snow, and the afternoon brought rain and freezing rain. Who knows what the roads will be like this evening for the poor commuters. I had the foresight to take the day off. Luckily, I had a couple extra vacation days to burn (use them or lose them!) before the end of the year.

Perhaps my patience has run out so quickly in 2009 because the Summer was, in a word, crappy. Rain fell almost every day in May, June and July, it seemed. Our garden was mostly a bust. Hiking trips had to be put on hold from late April until August. Some kind of miracle happened in that we were able to pull off a large picnic in May -- it only rained a little that day.

Granted the Autumn was rather nice, with good foliage and warm temperatures lasting into Fall, Part 2. A day over 60ºF in early December? While prepping the garden for Winter in late November, I spied a ripe strawberry amidst the blossoms (blossoms?). It was small, but I ate it anyway. Just to say I did.

But as a New Englander, I am a realist about winter. Very few of us are ever caught unprepared. I have my rock salt, my new scraper and my new shovel ready. And now, facing this first, big storm, I am steeled for lots of scraping and shoveling until April.

If thinking about the weather in 2009 is getting you down, remember the year 1816, because, Summer isn't guaranteed.

So, tune up the snowblower and have the snow pants ready. And drive safely. Maybe Mother Nature will reward us with a mild, dry Winter. No? How about a warm, sunny Spring?

Ha!

The Weirdest Thing That Ever Happened To Me

2009-11-30T00:51:00.002-05:00

This may be a slightly long story, but it's interesting. I won't draw any conclusions for you as to what it all might mean, because frankly, I have no idea.

About 15 years ago, I often hung out with my friend Lee. He was into bigfoot and conspiracy theories and extraterrestrials and serial killers, like a lot of guys in their early 20s. I got into those things a bit, too.

Anyway, one Friday night I had a long, vivid dream. This is not unusual. I've had a lot of crazy, technicolor dreams about epic matters.

In the dream, another person and I were running from something. We were on a wooded hill, and people were chasing us in a vehicle. We stayed off the roads to avoid being seen. One of us knew which way to go, because we soon came upon some familiar Native Americans. They knew we were in trouble, and one of the elders pointed us toward a cave.

We headed over there and inside the cave was a tunnel, which soon turned into stark hallways with metal security doors. Somehow, each time we reached an intersection, we went the right way. And, whenever we reached a door, I managed to punch the correct combination into a keypad and get through.

But eventually, one door foiled me. I entered the wrong combo and alarms sounded. My friend and I were captured by some sort of military personnel. An official brought us deeper into whatever compound we had penetrated, and we reached a laboratory with several scientists and large, 4 foot-high, stainless steel vats.

We were told the vats contained the bodies of aliens that had crashed on earth. A special liquid in the vat suppressed the aliens' mental powers and effectively kept them trapped. I peered into one of the vats and saw an alien lying at the bottom. When no one was looking, I touched the liquid with my finger.

In the briefest moment, I understood that the alien wanted to get out, and it understood that I was not one of the bad guys - that my friend and I wanted to help. We felt something big was about to happen.

Quickly, we were ushered out of there, and locked in another room full of equipment.
Some of the equipment looked like front-load washers, and contained more alien bodies. These aliens were seemingly lifeless, but not dead. We set about trying to help them. I don't recall the next part of the dream clearly, but I know that we escaped the room and made our way up to the surface of the compound.

When we emerged on a hilltop, we saw many soldiers and military vehicles. Orders were being shouted, jeeps were scrambling around, and we understood that some sort of airstrike or invasion was about to occur. In the chaos, I woke up.

With the dream fresh in my mind, I telephoned my friend Lee, who was going to love hearing this crazy adventure I had been on. But Lee wasn't at home, and I had to leave him a message.

Later that afternoon, I was flipping around the television, not really watching anything. But then I noticed a movie with two people running from authorities in some sort of military compound. Funny. So I started watching it. Though I recognized Robert Carradine, it wasn't a movie I had ever seen before. It certainly didn't seem like a major theatrical release.

Robert Carradine and his female friend were captured and made to communicate with captured aliens. WHAT?
Then the military compound came under attack and the heroes escaped with some of the aliens. WHAT?
They made their way into the desert, and the aliens zoomed off into space.
The only thing missing was the presence of friendly Native Americans. And then, as our heroes wander a desert road, a pickup truck pulls up, driven by - you guessed it - two Native Americans.

This was crazy! How could I have dreamed a movie I'd never seen? And on the night before I happened to catch it while flipping around the TV! Let me point out that I have never had a TV in my bedroom, and I do not like to fall asleep watching television - in any room.

Amidst all the other questions, first I had to find out what I had been watching. Do you remember how we found out what was on TV in the early days of cable? Before the internet? I quickly grabbed our little TV Guide and figured out that I had been watching a movie called Wavelength, released in 1983. Here is the link.

I don't know what this all means. I'm pretty sure it has to mean something, because this kind of coincidence just doesn't happen.
Does it?

Thanks!

2009-11-27T22:54:00.005-05:00

Sorry that I took most of this month off. Inertia, game addiction, fatigue... lame excuses.
I also picked an unfortunate time to be lazy. This month is National Blog Posting Month, or NaBloPoMo. Lots of bloggers undertake the challenge to post every day during the month of November. I applaud them. It's hard work. As long as your daily posting doesn't look like a lame tweet, you are a winner in my book.

But we must break our inertia and get back to it! I don't want this new blog to fall by the wayside after an initial burst of creativity, like so many others have. And I do have ideas. I've even started carrying around a little pad and pen to jot them down. So, let's ease back into the flow with a little karma.

I had my chance to feel thankful again this year. When you're young, it's hard to come up with things to be thankful for, because things seem so permanent and unending. Do we have to see all the relatives again? And go to Grandma's again? What a drag. Then, as you get older, friends move away, parents retire to the south, grandparents pass away, your health may fail you, and you suddenly become aware of all the little things that were once so omnipresent, and are now so elusive - or gone forever.

You have to take action. I could have hung around at home and enjoyed a long weekend, but my wife and I shared a week-early Thanksgiving with several friends who weren't going to be able to see their loved ones. Then, we joined my brother's condensed family for a turkey dinner. Without our parents around, and my sister-in-law working, he and I might have just ditched the idea. But my brother and I have recognized that as we get older, the people we care about - and the chances we have to see them - keep floating away. We've made more plans for the weekend - to shop!

Simple stuff. Stuff that the "younger me" would have avoided like the plague. But what I wouldn't give to be 11 years old again, having Thanksgiving dinner at my grandparents' house, horsing around with my cousins.

So, while those I love may always be close to my heart, I'm also keeping them close by, because once that inertia sets in, you may find everyone has drifted too far away.

I Take It All Back

2009-11-03T23:48:00.002-05:00

I've recently posted on how late Autumn and Winter make me grumpy. But, if you can wrap your mind around this Oscar-The-Grouch-style logic for a second, grumpy is good!

I also wrote about mysterious notes that appear all over my paper money. Here's what I've had in my wallet since I wrote that:
"27"
"60"
So, apparently, "they" know about me and I've been removed from "the circle."

I wrote with some concern about the New England Patriots, and how they needed to get their groove back. Well, after demolishing two dreadful teams back-to-back, now they look like the best team in football. Of course, the truth lies somewhere in the middle. We'll see how they fare against New Orleans on November 30th. The Saints are currently 7-0.

The Incredible Sulk

2009-11-01T16:57:00.004-05:00

People say that there's no better place to be than New England in Autumn. They're right. Well, they're half-right.

September is great. It's dry. It's warm. It's not as humid as August. The bugs die off. If the days were longer, it would be a fantastic month.

October is just awesome. The leaves change. The weather gets even drier. Days are often cool or crisp, so if you don't mind a light jacket or sweater to start the day, it's very comfy. If you like sleeping with the window open, this is your month. The only drawback to October is the prevalence of rainy spells. Some of the Atlantic hurricanes make their way up to New England and ruin the foliage-viewing.

And then there's Halloween, the funnest holiday. After Halloween, some celebrate All Saints Day, All Souls Day, or Dia De Los Muertos at the start of November. It's the kickoff to the second half of Autumn.

And the second half of autumn is awful.

Baseball season ends. The clocks change, so the afternoon commute must be done in darkness. The weather isn't nice anymore. You can only hope for tolerable. Yardwork needs to be completed before the ground freezes, and leaves need to be raked before snow comes. You have to start saving for Christmas.

Worst of all, the trees - recently gorgeous - are now stark and bare. It's why I feel November is the most depressing month of the year. During the long, dark winter months, it's hard to stay upbeat all the time. I'm just one of many who suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD.

Since I don't downhill ski, I've tried making winter more fun by cross-country skiing and snowshoeing. It definitely helps, but it's hard to get out often. It's dark after work, which confines your activities to the weekends. There isn't much snow until January, and if there is December snow, your friends can't join you because they're busy shopping or going to Christmas parties.

So, I will try to keep my chin up as 2009 becomes 2010. Bear with me until Spring, when things warm up, baseball season looms, and the world becomes green again.

Until then, I may be a bit green myself when I turn into The Incredible Sulk.
"You wouldn't like me when I'm gloomy."

Trickle Treat!

2009-10-26T00:05:00.003-04:00

Let's take a trip back to the early 1970s and look at the cutest kid ever - me!
Enormous thanks go to my mother, who made many nice costumes for me over the years. In the early 1980s, after I made the transition to nerdiest kid ever, she also helped me dress up as a Rubik's Cube.

The other Real World

2009-10-24T23:37:00.003-04:00

I don't mean to eavesdrop, but sometimes I hear things.
I heard a 5-Year Old say this to his mom at Barnes and Noble (at about 9pm):
"Mommy, my tummy hurts. I want to go to McDonald's."
Cute. And I think parts of my brain shut down while trying to process it.

I heard something disturbing at the Thai restaurant last night. Wifely Wiferson and I go there frequently. It's a small, but excellent restaurant with great food. It's owned by a very sweet Thai woman. Let me just re-emphasize this before I recount the conversation; they serve Thai food, the word "Thai" is part of the restaurant's name, and the owner/waitress is a small, Asian woman with an accent. Okay?

Two women were seated at the next table. One had eaten there before, but her friend hadn't. They had a good long meal, and after paying the bill, the friend began this exchange with the owner:
Friend: Where are you from?
Owner: Thailand.
Friend: Oh! Interesting. Do you like it here?

Holy massaman curry! Somehow, I managed not to scream or slap my forehead. First of all, where the heck did you think she was from? Mexico? And how did her answer of "Thailand" manage to surprise you?
Then, "do you like it here?" What the…?
No, of course she doesn't like it here, ma'am. She's just decided to start a restaurant and run it for a couple of decades out of hatred toward America.

I think I vented all the way home in the car. And I recalled a valuable lesson I learned from The Real World. Not the real world, but The Real World - you know, the reality show on MTV. This was back in '93, when I hadn't yet learned everything there was to know ;)
Remember that 1993 was a time when reality shows were brand new, and talking openly about one's lesbianism was also a bit eye-opening.

Anyhoo, the roommates needed a replacement after someone got married, and got one, in the form of Beth A., who told her roommates she was gay. Later, at a question and answer session, all the anonymous questions submitted to Beth were about her sexuality. She got understandably upset by this. She was a real person, and her sexuality, like everyone's sexuality, is just one part of who she is. She did not want to be defined by a single thing - especially one that puts her into a minority group.

That really resonated with me. Of course it was unfair. I certainly wouldn't want to be defined by my allergy to sugar. But, think about how hard it is to meet a person with an eyepatch, or who is 7 feet tall, and not immediately focus on that one thing. If you had the chance to submit an anonymous question to that person, would you be able to avoid asking "how did you lose your eye?", or "do you play basketball?" It's human nature.
But it's also unfair to miss that person's other traits, which might be exactly the same as yours.

So, to me, the owner of my favorite Thai restaurant isn't an immigrant, or a Thai, or a short lady. She's just a kindly restaurateur who takes time to chat with her customers.
I even got a hug before I left.

Coffee Secrets

2009-10-19T20:30:00.005-04:00

I'm kinda new to coffee, and still learning the ins and outs. Maybe some of you think it sounds crazy that at the age of 39, I'd only had 3 or 4 cups in my life. I was always a tea guy. I loved the smell of coffee and hated the taste. But hey, people change. I didn't get married until I was 40, either.

So now I have to reassess my attitude, because it used to seem like the entire world was addicted to that damn bean. Here in New England, sometimes you see two Dunkin' Donuts at a time while driving - one up ahead, and one not-yet-vanished in your rearview mirror (There are 30 within 5 miles of my zip code!). Also, I think there's a Fatty Starbuckles on every street corner. And, complete strangers offer you coffee like you're dying of thirst and/or insomnia - assuming you just want some right now, naturally.

While it seemed rather creepy before, now that attitude is a convenience. Because sometimes, I do want some java. Usually black, with a couple of Sweet'N Lows because I have a hard time digesting real sugar. Latte? Sure. Espresso? Even better! I LOVE LOVE LOVE the espresso machine I got as a wedding gift.

But I didn't know everything. I had one very important lesson to learn. Unfortunately, I learned it the hard way. I was at my favorite eatery with coworkers, when I decided that the combination of fatigue and chilly weather necessitated a cup of joe with my sammich. And, as I might expect from such a wonderful lunchery, it tasted quite good.

And then, I got back to work. Work annnoyed me. My coworkers were making me mad. I didn't want to go home. My friends were losers. And (God, I hate to admit this), I even despised my wife. I was honestly in the worst mood of my life - and nothing remotely unpleasant had happened to make me feel that way! I suffered this way for a few hours.

That's when I questioned the coffee. The next day, my sympathetic coworkers let me in on a coffee secret. Apparently, I drank some "bad bean." Bad? Still scarred from the previous day's events, I presumed what I had consumed was hot, liquid evil.

But this bad news had a silver lining - there was also "good bean." Good bean? Armed with that knowledge, I paid attention while consuming any future beverages. And I found my "good bean" - Dunkin' Donuts coffee. It always leaves me happy. So now, I can happily drive all over town - heck, all over New England - with my Happy Place always just around the corner.

Assessing the Red Sox

2009-10-18T12:50:00.004-04:00

Now that I'm a week removed from the debacle that was the Red Sox 2009 playoffs, I can write down some thoughts clearly. I've spared you from the wailing and teeth gnashing that went on a few days ago.
Maybe I sounded too optimistic heading into the playoffs, but I never overstated my confidence. The Sox had too many issues this year, and those issues grow scarier as we think about next year.

After stepping back, though, we can see that the 2009 campaign was a 95-win season, a playoff appearance, and a generally successful season. So, let's have a look at the big picture: what did we learn from 2009, and what does that mean for 2010?

Maybe 100 sportswriters and radio personalities have disseminated 1,000 opinions already, but I have limited my exposure to them. I have learned that my own opinions (if well-informed) hold up just fine. Besides, I am going to assume people would prefer I not regurgitate what they've already read.

The crashing realization is this: The Red Sox have generated more problems than solutions for the first time in a long time. While it may be fun to watch a young, exciting team try to resolve its issues on its way to becoming a contender, it's scary and depressing when a good team has to answer tough questions to avoid mediocrity.

Let's go through the position players. There are rock solid parts heading into 2010, and some real conundrums.

The good:
First Base: Kevin Youkilis had a great year (.305, 27, 94) and he should do the same in in 2010.
Second Base: Dusitn Pedroia (The Destroyah) didn't have another MVP season, but he was darn good (.296, 15, 72) with the bat and the glove.
Left Field: Jason Bay struck out way too much (162), but produced some huge numbers (.267, 36, 119).
Center Field: Jacoby Ellsbury had a breakout year (.301, 94 runs, 70 Steals). The last question marks about him are gone.
Right Field: J.D. Drew was again good on offense and defense (.279, 24, 68). People want this guy to never get hurt, put up monster numbers and be a team leader, but I think if he were being paid less, no one would complain about his production.
Catcher: Getting Victor Martinez from Cleveland at the trading deadline was enormous. V-Mart was a massive run producer, but not a great defensive player. He might best serve the team at 1B or DH.

The bad:
Shortstop: A complete disaster. Jed Lowrie was supposed to compete for the job with Julio Lugo, but got hurt. Lugo was a defensive train wreck. He was replaced by Nick Green, who started very shaky but improved to the point of adequacy. The Sox then acquired old friend Alex Gonzalez, a defensive whiz, who can't hit much (except when wearing red hose).
This brings us to our first problem: Do we let Gonzalez walk, and let not-quite-proven Jed Lowrie compete for the job again next spring? Or do we keep a 33-year old Alex Gonzalez and let him be amazing on defense and decent on offense?
Catcher: Jason Varitek was the catcher to start the year, and despite some early slugging, is now undoubtedly unable to contribute offensively. V-Mart is a mediocre defensive catcher and performs better offensively when not catching. Problem #2: Do we make Martinez the full-time catcher and let Varitek play backup? Do we "let" Varitek retire and give the backup job to George Kottaras? Do we go out and get a new catcher, letting V-Mart play 1B/DH/backup catcher?
Designated Hitter: Ugh. David Ortiz had a nightmarish April and May. His hitting completely abandoned him. When he started to turn it around, his name was released as one of the players who tested positive for banned substances in 2003. He eventually became his old self again (after June 1: .264, 27, 81) but no one knows if, at 34 years of age, he can be a top-notch producer again. Problem #3: Is he a part of the team in 2010 if he starts poorly again? Can he share time at DH?
Third Base: Mike Lowell. There's tons of man-love in Red Sox Nation for Lowell, who put up pretty good offensive numbers and still plays a mean hot corner. On the other hand, he was decidedly fair in road games (.276, 5, 30), and is slower on the basepaths than creeping shadows. Next year, he'll be 36. Problem #4: Does Lowell play 3B next year? Perhaps Youkilis should move to 3B and Lowell can split time at Designated hitter with David Ortiz.

What I would do:
The Red Sox do have a little bit of flexibility to help solve their issues. Youkilis, Martinez and Green can play multiple positions. What we might see in '10 is a big, revolving door of an infield, with only Pedroia remaining stable.

At Catcher: pursue free agents or trade for a good young catcher. Use Martinez as backup and Varitek as bench coach. Backup plan: if the Sox are unable to procure a good new catcher, use V-Mart as your starter and let Varitek battle Kottaras for the backup position.
At First Base: Get Adrian Gonzalez from San Diego. He is a monster. Backup plan: Victor Martinez becomes the first baseman/backup catcher while prospect Lars Anderson gets occasional playing time.
At Third Base: Shift Youkilis to third, and let Lowell play occasional 3B and DH. Backup plan: Hmm… I'm stumped, but most plans are better than a full season of Lowell at 3B.
At Designated Hitter: use Ortiz versus righties (which is most of the time) and Lowell versus lefties. Backup plan/scary reality: both of these guys might not be on the team next year.

Now we can talk about the pitching, which, despite some issues, is much easier to sort out:

The Good:
Starters: The top of the rotation is great, with Beckett, Lester, Buchholz and Daisuke Matsuzaka pretty much inked into the first four spots. Tim Wakefield is about to have surgery, and may not be able to play much, if at all, in 2010. Michael Bowden may be ready to advance, however. Regardless, worrying about a fifth starter is something every major league team does every year.
Set-Up/Closers: The closer role may be a bit crowded. Billy Wagner is about to retire, so that removes one factor. Jonathan Papelbon, despite throwing up all over himself in game three of the ALDS, is still one of the very best closers in all of baseball. That still leaves an aging Takashi Saito (best suited for setup work) and the human sonic boom that is Daniel Bard - two guys who might close on a less fortunate team.
Problem #5: With all this extra talent, do we move someone to help get a catcher, first baseman, or third baseman?

The Bad:
Middle/Long relief may be a bit thin, especially with the implosion of Manny Delcarmen this year, but then again, middle relievers come and go, often appearing from unexpected places. In the Red Sox' case, a wealth of closers can also mean an abundance of setup guys.

My dream scenario: Trade Papelbon as part of a package to get a good young catcher, which causes the following cascade:
1. Varitek vies for backup duty with Kottaras, retiring if the team feels he can't produce more than he did in '08 and '09.
2. Victor Martinez becomes the regular first baseman, and catches occasionally. Lars Anderson backs up at 1B.
3. Youkilis moves to third base, with Lowell as a backup.
4. Lowell and Ortiz split the DHing duties.
5. Alex Gonzalez plays SS, with Lowrie as your main utility infielder.
6. Daniel Bard becomes the closer.

The problems are numerous, and many players' fates are uncertain. I'm willing to bet that offseason events will include a curveball or two, as well. It promises to be an interesting, and slightly scary winter for Red Sox Nation.
But, as always, come February, hope springs eternal.

Operation LePew, part 3

2009-10-16T00:02:00.004-04:00

If you have not done so, please read parts 1 and 2 of this wacky story.
We continue now with Part 3 of Operation LePew.

"It's a cat."
Huh? Inside was a black cat, one I recognized from the neighborhood. Well, now. Isn't it odd that I managed to capture a cat - using cat food as bait! I opened the door, and you never saw an animal move so fast, down the walkway, around my house and back to its yard in 1.2 seconds. People have gotten better looks at Bigfoot.

I reset the trap and went back to bed, confident that, while I may not get the skunk, there would be at least one neighborhood cat that wouldn't be hanging around in my yard anytime soon.

But the next morning, I heard more sounds from the trap. I headed out again, unaccosted by Kev, who actually did sleep once in a while. Who knew? In the morning light, I had an easier time seeing what had eaten that delicious cat food the second time. And, this time, it was my skunk.

I carefully picked up the trap and put it in the hatchback of my car. I already had my relocation zone picked out. Being in the middle of a city, I had to drive for a while to get away from heavily populated areas, but the area around the lake wasn't too far, was wooded, and was devoid of houses. I drove slowly, windows open, wincing every time I heard a noise from the back, or went over a bump in the road.
"…please don't spray please don't spray please don't spray…"

I felt very self-conscious parking on the side of a wooded rood and unloading a cage in the early morning, but thankfully, passing cars were sparse. I walked a couple dozen yards down a trail and set the trap on the ground, facing away from my car and kneeled down, ready to open the trap door and run like hell.

Except I was stuck - the trap door had to be held open manually! Sure, I could re-set it and walk away, but the skunk would just re-trigger the door when he tried to leave. So, like a frightened child, I held the blanket against me and stuck my arm around it to hold the door. I was poised to spring in the opposite direction once my prey made his way out.

I would like to thank the skunk at this point for not figuring out which way was out - for a good minute - while I crouched in the most uncomfortable position known to man. Yoga instructors should learn this pose, 'cuz it burns in all sorts of normally-clothed places.

I think I even resorted to whacking the cage with my one remaining non-trembling muscle to expedite matters. The skunk finally scurried out. I don't think he saw me behind my blanket, but of course at that point I was hauling ass in the opposite direction. Just to be safe, the skunk sprayed anyway, before retreating to the safety of the forest.

I grabbed the cage and headed back to my car. I drove home with all the windows down, because oh yes, there was a smell. I was hoping it was coming from the cage, and not me. When I got home, I stripped naked on my porch, tossing all my clothes into the garbage. As I prepared for a long hot shower, I worried about getting all the smell out, so as not to offend all my coworkers.

Oh, crap! I was going to be late for work. I actually had to call my boss.
"I'll just be in a little late."
"OK, do you have to get to an appointment? Are you sick?"
"Umm, no."
Yep, I had actually had to call in smelly.
After the shower, I was relieved to find that I wouldn't offend all my coworkers, as only a trace of odor remained. Unless I had become desensitized to it, of course.

What an ordeal! Thankfully I was clean, the cage sat in the middle of my yard (to be sprayed down and returned later), and my boss understood my predicament. I got in my car to drive to work - and was assaulted by odor. So, I drove to work with my head out the window like a Labrador, wondering how I was ever going to use this vehicle again.

Some internet research pointed me toward a product called Nature's Miracle, which promised to break down the nasty oils that cause skunk smell and remove the odor. Let me state in no uncertain terms that this stuff works - immediately. I began thinking of keeping some on hand at all times after, in another fit of odiferous desperation, it got the stank of melted-cheese-stuck-in-the-floor-mats-that-sat-for-a-couple-of-summer-days out of Wifely Wiferson's car.

So, my home was finally free of skunk. That is, until two days later, when I saw more freshly dug holes in the yard.

Oh Lord, tell me this is not happening.

Well, it was one of two things; there was a second skunk (on the grassy knoll?), or the first skunk had traveled five miles in two days, through busy city streets, to seek his vengeance upon me.

*another sigh* Well, I did have the rental trap for a couple more days.

So, after one more trapped cat (Oops! Sorry.), one more skunk, one more trip to Shady Acres Skunk Resort, and one more set of trashed clothes, I was finally done.

-Coda-
Skunks still come around occasionally. They seem to thrive in the city, after all. But, the digging of the lawn is very infrequent now. I can attribute this to two actions I took: adding a grub treatment to my lawn, and installing solar pathway lights that illuminate my backyard.

Maybe you've all learned a lesson from this.
Me? I've earned a lesson.

We Need a Sports Savior

2009-10-12T23:17:00.006-04:00

Perhaps I'll tackle the mind-numbing Red Sox demise in a later post, when my sanity returns. For now, let's talk Patriots.

Week 5: Denver 20, New England 17 (OT)

The Patriots loss was also tough to take, but I didn't lose any sleep. Did they lose to a Denver Broncos team that perhaps shouldn't be 5-0? Yes. Have they stumbled at times, managing only a 3-2 record after 5 games? Yes.

But, here's five reasons why I'm not worried:
1. Thus far, the combined record of the Patriots opponents (at kickoff) was 10-0. That's right. All their opponents thus far have been undefeated.
2. They played Denver in Denver, which is never easy for any team.
3. Tom Brady hasn't been Tom Brady-like. Rust? Last year's knee injury? Bad shoulder? Giselle?? One of the issues is timing, which is most likely due to missing a year. The other is the accuracy of his long ball, which may be a shoulder issue. But, it's also a problem he has already overcome once in his career.
4. They've beaten Atlanta and Baltimore, which are 2 (very?) good teams.
5. Most importantly, the biggest question mark the Patriots had heading into this season has been its relatively young, inexperienced defense. There's no Vrabel (traded), no Bruschi (retired), no Ellis Hobbs (left for Philly), Mayo has been hurt, and Richard Seymour was sent to Oakland for future draft picks. And while their pass rush has been lacking, this new group is playing very well every week. They've allowed the 3rd fewest points in the AFC.

I'm confident that Tom Brady will get his groove back. And no, we don't need J.C. at running back. We just need a little consistency (that means YOU, Lawrence Maroney) for the Patriots to go deep into the playoffs.

Please?
This disconsolate member of Red Sox Nation promises to say his prayers!

Another Autumn Hike

2009-10-12T01:48:00.003-04:00

There's nothing better than a foliage hike in New England. This time, Wifely Wiferson and I drove with some friends to hike a few miles in Fox State Forest on a crisp, autumn day.
Though we weren't out long, there were several highlights: mossy green rocks contrasted against a carpet of red and yellow leaves; a virgin hemlock forest; thick, colorful mosses on the edges of the swamps; and a boardwalk over 20-foot deep sphagnum and other weird plants to see Mud Pond in blazing autumn colors.

Clicking on the picture will lead you to a short, 4-shot album.

Lowlight: After the hike, we stopped for refreshments in downtown Hillsborough - a quaint little New Hampshire town. We were shooed out of a bakery at 4:58 because they were closing at 5PM. We got sustenance in the ice cream parlor next door, while observing the bakery owners in their store yukking it up with friends until they locked up at 5:40PM. I'm glad I didn't give them any of my money.

Gripped by Fever!

2009-10-07T22:39:00.006-04:00

I mean baseball fever.
The playoffs have arrived, and I'm as nervous and excited and hopeful as ever for my beloved Red Sox in this year's Fall Classic.

Maybe it's not a fever, but a plague. All of New England seems to be afflicted. It's in our blood here. Like candlepin bowling, dropping our "Rs," enjoying foliage and eating ice cream.

I caught the bug in high school. Senior year - 1986. Maybe it would have been a passing phase, but that summer, The Red Sox were having their first excellent season since 1978, and their great young pitcher Roger Clemens was carrying the team into postseason play. And those playoffs in the fall of '86! Not just the World Series, but the Mets/Astros and Red Sox/Angels playoffs each contained the stuff of legend. I was hooked.

I went through a phase, in and after college, when baseball was all I would read. I devoured information about managers, teams, strategies, players, stadiums, and even uniforms. With 150 years of history to delve into, there was always more to learn. Who is the best third baseman of all time? Which of the Yankees' dynasties was the greatest? Which era had the most interesting style of play? I'm sure I've forgotten more than most people will ever know about baseball history.

Maybe some of it is a guy thing - compiling those virtual mountains of statistics in your head. Maybe there's something satisfying about joining an argument that, while driven almost entirely by distinct, individual statistics, has equations that can never be solved.

Or, maybe, here in Puritan New England, we have a subconscious desire to suffer. Watching our Red Sox come so close, for so long, so many times, breeds character - or a low-level psychosis. True, all of that has changed with the two championships this decade, but despite the success, the passion felt in this region did not melt away like the frustration has.

These are golden times and we should cherish our Red Sox. We have a great team, a great stadium, great fans, the RemDawg (how can you not love this guy?), and ownership that wants desperately to a) win, and b) run the organization the right way. And if you feel that you take our BoSox for granted, have a long talk with a Cubs fan sometime (7 World Series losses from 1910 to 1945, and no appearances since) and remember how good we have it.

Perennial contenders breed complacency elsewhere. Not here. We'll never be New York or Los Angeles - even though baseball have-nots might lump us in with them. So put your Sox hat on, grab a bowl of ice cream, plop in front of your TV, cheer like mad, and maybe our lovable team can bring the World Series trophy back to Red Sox Nation one more time.

Operation LePew, part 2

2009-10-04T10:58:00.004-04:00

I owe you guys the rest of the story.
In August, I began the tale I call Operation LePew, about the skunk that terrorized my new lawn. But I left you all hanging. Go ahead and refresh your memories, and I can continue on to part 2.

Part 2
So, the skunk had been thwarted in his attempts to find a warm, cozy place under my porch. He remained undaunted, however, in his nightly attempts to extract all the yummy grubs from my lawn, leaving large holes in his wake.

He had to be removed. But, I had no idea how. So, of course I called my city's pest control. Their advice?
"You can rent a havahart trap from a local rental place, and trap the skunk, using some dry cat food as bait." OK, that sounded easy. Umm…what then?
"Oh, simple. Put a blanket over the trap, put the trap in your car, and release the skunk a few miles away."
Uhhh… really?
"You wont get sprayed, because number 1, they can't see you from under the blanket. Number 2, the size of the trap prevents them from raising their tails."

I thanked the man for his time, hung up, and thought, "Oh, there is NO WAY that's happening." But then, I thought about it some more. He was very matter-of-fact about the whole process, like people do it all the time. And, the city sure as heck wasn't going to send someone over to my house to trap my skunk.

*sigh*

So, I went to a nearby rental place, and described my strategy. You know what? People actually DO do this all the time, because Rental Man didn't even flinch when I described my plan. And then I bought some cat food. And found a ratty blanket.

I figured out how the trap worked, set it out in my yard, put some cat food in it, and covered all but the opening with the blanket. I went to bed with my window open slightly, in case I heard something. The rental was for a week, but who knew how long it would be before this scheme worked?

WHAM! At 2:30 AM.
I quickly got dressed and headed outside, wobbly with having recently been in dream state.
"Got a skunk, there, sitboaf?," I heard.
"Maybe, yeah." Wait. Who the hell said that?! I looked around and saw my neighbor Kev Webber (not his real name), in his usual place - on his stoop, smoking a cigarette - at 2:30 in the morning.
Now, this is not really unusual behavior for Kev, for whom the adjective "odd" has to be reserved long past the point where you'd normally use it. But, that's a whole 'nuther story, which may or may not include a government plan to use alternative energy sources based on one of Kev's "inventions."

Sorry, back to my trap. The door had sprung shut, and I was definitely hearing something moving around in there. I peered in, but all was dark. I ran back inside to get a flashlight.
"Did you get a skunk?," asked Kev.
"I think so. I saw something dark moving around in there. I'm getting my flashlight."
Kev had lumbered across the street and into in my yard when I re-emerged with the flashlight.

When I peered in again, I saw an animal with black fur and was ready to flap the blanket over the opening and put the whole thing in my car, when Kev said, "Let's have a look" and lifted the blanket off. Ack!

Continued in Part 3

Rock and Roll from the Dungeon

2009-09-28T22:21:00.007-04:00

One of the bands that I truly love is The Electric Light Orchestra. We can blame my dad for that. When I was a youngster, some of his LPs and cassettes managed to find a warm place in my heart, and a few others (Anne Murray, Barry Manilow) did not.

Maybe you don't know much about ELO. Maybe you don't like them. That's OK - this isn't a history lesson or an album-by-album recap. Instead, I want to share one terribly interesting story, and provide one personal viewpoint. Maybe you'll see the band in a different light. To me, that's the fun part about discovering a new (or old) band; seeing them in a new context, and finding a different level of appreciation.

We're going to play what now?
Three members of early ELO, Jeff Lynne, Bev Bevan and Roy Wood, had been in a successful band called The Move in the late '60s and early '70s, but disbanded it to explore a new direction - orchestral rock. Basically, they decided to base their entire sound upon The Beatles' I Am The Walrus. A quick listen to 10538 Overture confirms this.

As tenuous as that idea seemed to be, it worked. Not smashingly on the first few attempts, but by their third album, Roy Wood had left, Jeff Lynne was emerging as a master songwriter, and ELO had inked the blueprint for enormous success. Highlights of this early period include Ma Ma Ma Belle, Showdown, Can't Get It Out Of My Head, Evil Woman, Strange Magic and an absolutely medieval cover of Roll Over Beethoven.

As a teenager, I fondly remember listening to cassettes of dubious quality which created a magical combination of achingly melodic hooks and dark, morose strings. My favorite ELO quote (I wish I could find the source) goes something like, "It sounds like an orchestra was forced to play rock music at gunpoint."

Then, after the absolute masterpiece that is ELO's sixth album, "A New World Record," something happened - something besides fabulous success and fame.

Out of the Dungeon
The double-LP "Out Of The Blue" was written in a burst of creativity while Jeff Lynne was on holiday. And, while one may debate the excesses of a 17-song album, some of those songs are undoubtedly great (Turn To Stone, Sweet Talkin' Woman, Mr. Blue Sky). But, what's most notable about "Out Of The Blue" is the shift in sound.

There are synthesizers upon synthesizers. There are vocal layers upon vocal layers. There are trumpets, bells, whistles, beeps, whooshes and countless high violin flourishes. It seemed like the walls of ELO's dungeon were torn down, a hundred floodlights were switched on, and then some disco lights were added for good measure. And suddenly, everyone showed up ready for 1977 - in a leisure suit.

While the debate rages on as to whether "Out Of The Blue" or "A New World Record" is the band's finest, their next album, "Discovery" (Disco? Very!) takes all of Jeff Lynne's latest toys, amps things up even more, and manages to be brilliant, concise, and confident in its dance-floor glitz. It's from this perspective that you can look back and see the sprawling, manic "Out Of The Blue" not as an arrival for the band, but as a trial run.

From "Discovery" in 1979, until the songwriting took a bad turn on 1983's "Secret Messages," ELO had several more big hits (Shine A Little Love, Don't Bring Me Down, All Over The World, Hold On Tight), but that beautiful, dark, cello-stabbed rock from the dungeon was long gone.

photo: Scott Beale / Laughing Squid

Hiking Welch-Dickey

2009-09-22T23:59:00.005-04:00

Not content to punish our weary bodies with a climb on Saturday, Wifely Wiferson and I embarked on an even more challenging hike the next day. This time, we accompanied a friend up into the White Mountain National Forest to do the Welch-Dickey trail, a 4.4 mile loop that traverses two peaks.

The hike is slightly tough, and extremely beautiful. After going through a forest trail near a tumbling brook, we reached the first slabs of Welch mountain. We then were treated to a beautiful, 180º view, and could see the dome of Welch, looming impossibly steep behind us. After a bit of scrambling, we reached the stunning summit, where we had a 360º view of central New Hampshire.

Hopping down from there, we ducked through a tunnel of small evergreens before making our ascent of Dickey Mountain. Feeling like momentum was on our side, we pushed on, down several more slabs, and back to the steep, finishing forest trail that made our toes hurt.

If you find yourself in the Waterville Valley area on a dry day, I can't recommend this hike enough. Click on the picture to see my small album of pix.

The Other Side of Temple Mountain

2009-09-20T10:42:00.003-04:00

Last week, Wifely Wiferson and I climbed the southern half of Temple Mountain. Yesterday, we climbed the other half, from the north. I have appended my small photo album with some new shots.
Though the north side provided no gorgeous overlooks (the south side had several), it may have been a prettier hike. Winding through the forest of rocks, roots, ferns, flowers, moss, and one huge mushroom was beautiful at virtually every step.

A Perfect Illustration

2009-09-19T00:41:00.004-04:00

In case you haven't explored my (abridged) list of favorite websites over in the sidebar, go and have a laugh at emails from crazy people. It can be a little raw on the eyes (and sometimes ears), but it's also extremely funny.

One recent post perfectly illustrated a point a made in an earlier entry of mine, about how there are 2 kinds of people in this world. While I believe you can divide people in many different ways, the people that really burn my toast are the ones who think breaking rules (and laws) is OK, but criticizing the rule-breaker, or taking action upon him is a heinous act.

Take a look at this short note from a crazy person to see what I mean.

Would I have someone towed after one offense? Probably not. But, it would be within my rights to do so.

So, to the casual parker, I say:
Hey buddy? You want to be emotional after someone tows you for parking in their assigned, well-marked, paid-for spot? Here's some suggestions: How about feeling sorry? Or shameful? Or guilty? Or even inconsiderate. Why is it OK for you to illegally inconvenience others, and not OK for them to legally inconvenience you?

Or maybe all that tree-hugging has cut off circulation to my brain.

Tom Terrific

2009-09-16T22:30:00.004-04:00

The 2009 NFL season is underway! Being a New Englander under the age of 58, I am a Patriots fan. (Those among us who watched football before 1960 are sometimes Giants fans, as that was the closest team. But I digress.)
I got to watch my team in their zany throwback uniforms, in celebration of the 50th Anniversary of the American Football Conference (né League). While I am old enough to remember mascot Pat Patriot, I am not old enough to recall the officials' uniforms, which can safely be described as surreal.

The Patriots' success is well documented, and their fan base has grown large and rabid after three recent championships, and a 16-0, 2007 team that broke multiple offensive records. But the upset loss in SuperBowl XLII (to those unneighborly Giants), followed by a deflating 2008 season that included watching backup quarterback Matt Cassel, and a final record of 11-5 that somehow kept them out of the playoffs, left fans extremely eager to kick off the 2009 campaign with Tom "Terrific" Brady back at the helm.

I know this fan was.

I purchased my plasma TV back in February, 2008, right after that hideous Super Bowl (when prices always drop). I thought I would have a short, 6-month wait until September, when I could see Mr. Brady avenge all that went wrong, and break even more offensive records en route to a fourth title. So, it was no big deal when I was away at 1PM on that first Sunday and missed a couple minutes of the game, right?
Right?

Excuse me, Mr. Announcer, what do you mean by "devastating injury?"
Oh.

Fast forward 12 more months (!), and I still hadn't seen Mr. Brady play football on my gorgeous television. Until Monday. Oh, I watched the crap outta that game.

And the Patriots stunk, falling behind by 11 points with 5 and a half minutes left. Wifely Wiferson, ever so steady and supporting, announced that the Patriots were done for. That the game was O-V-A, ovah.
Then, I think something in my brain snapped.

"I spent a lot of money on this &@%%#!* television, so I could see Tom Brady play on it! And then I had to wait a year and a &@%%#!* half to actually see him! I am NOT giving up with 5 minutes left. I'm gonna sit here and watch Tom Brady engineer a &@%%#!* comeback and the Patriots are gonna win this &@%%#!* game!"*

And then, they did.
I love you, plasma TV. I love you, Tom Brady.
But most of all, I still love Wifely Wiferson. Lots and lots.

*This husband is not the yelling type and I didn't actually yell at my wife. Although somewhere out there, I bet some husbands did. ;^)

I blame the Freemasons… and the aliens.

2009-09-15T23:44:00.002-04:00

This happens to everybody. But it happens to me a lot – too much. And if the situation gets any weirder, it might start to make sense.

I'm talking about cryptic notes on my money.

Sometimes, it's a 2 or 3 digit number. I can attribute that to someone keeping a running total to pay someone. Often, it's a name. Or an email. I don't think these are a big deal. Maybe you've seen a phone number. Does it belong to an informant who will blow the cover of a covert, overseas operation?
Maybe you've gotten the "Where's George" stamp?

Oh, but I get all sorts of nonsense. Messages in foreign languages. Long poems.
Things I can't explain.
Things I shouldn't explain.

I plan to post any strange ones I find here on the blog. You're all invited to submit your theories and explanations.

In the meantime, take a good look at your bills the next time you're in your wallet. If you see anything funny, send it to my gmail.
And, make sure no one is watching you!!

also, some other guy was doing this from 2004 through 2007, but he's not anymore... what about that? was he silenced? why is the website still up? is that a hole in their plan? or do they want you to find it???

Temple Mountain

2009-09-15T00:13:00.002-04:00

It was another beautiful day in New England on Sunday. I don't feel the least bit guilty, because I think it rained for 74 consecutive days in late Spring/early Summer. Wifely Wiferson and I took advantage of the situation and climbed a bit of New Hampshire's Temple Mountain. I was very happy with my weekending, until I talked to a coworker who climbed Mt. Washington on the same day.
Impressive! I scaled New England's highest peak many years ago, and I remember thinking at the time that I might die, and that I would never do it again. But, I probably would. I think I'm in better shape now.
Wow, that isn't saying much…
Anyhoo, click on picture to see my small Webshots album from Temple Mt.

…number 9, number 9, number 9…

2009-09-12T17:50:00.005-04:00

The Beatles released remastered versions of all their studio albums on 9/9/09, creating quite a buzz around the music world. It's justified. Their legacy continues to inspire and influence the music world 40 years after the band called it quits. Sure, you can ask a lot of questions about this remastering. Do they really need the money? Why wait so long? How much better can it sound?

Apparently, a lot better. And that's just the stereo versions. The Beatles finished each album after lots and lots of work - on the mono versions. It was up to producer George Martin to create the stereo versions after the Fab Four had gone on vacation. And if any band should be presented in its best light, shouldn't it be The Beatles? So, in addition to craving the remastered stereo albums, I'm thinking about finding money to pony up for the mono box set, as well.

There's a lot of fascination with the Beatles, and I have to admit to being a Beatlemaniac, too. Of course, I listen to the albums a lot, saw The Anthology on TV, and read Mojo Magazine's enormous, (and enormously interesting) book. People ask me who my favorite Beatle is (Paul), or what my favorite song is (I have no idea), or which album is my favorite. That last one is tricky. It changes from time to time, but the album that I'm most fascinated with is Revolver.

The Beatles' look and sound changed several times from Please Please Me in 1963 until Abbey Road in 1969. They mastered pop rock, expanded the form, defined psychedelia, and then helped lay the groundwork for several styles (AOR, glam, hard rock, power-pop) that would dominate radio for the next few years.

Some have divided the band's output into 3 phases (Mojo's book came from three separate, exhaustive articles - "1000 Days of Beatlemania," "1000 Days of Psychedelia," and "1000 Days of Revolution.") I happen to see four phases, myself.
1. The "Moptop Years" when they took the world by storm, writing love songs and doing great covers.
2. The "Grass Years" when they completely mastered the pop form, and wrote about subjects other than girls.
3. The "Psychedelic Years" when they mastered that form.
4. The "John/Paul/George/Ringo Years" when they cemented their individual styles and each (Ringo aside) became master songwriters.

However you envision their progression, the year 1966, and the Revolver album, is the lynchpin. In each of the years 1963, 1964 and 1965, The Beatles recorded 2 albums. In 1967, 1968 and 1969, they also recorded 2 albums. But, in 1966, there was just Revolver.

There were other changes, as well. After a disastrous and harrowing tour in Asia, the band played their last concert — the "studio years" had begun. George learned to play sitar from Ravi Shankar in India, and emerged a songwriter nearly on par with John and Paul. People's image of the band changed when John makes his "bigger than Jesus" comment.

Exactly half of the album's 14 songs are pop, the other half psychedelic. And from the irreverent ("Taxman"), to the haunting ("Elanor Rigby"), to the whimsical ("Yellow Submarine"), to the endearing ("Here There and Everywhere"), to the trippy ("Good Day Sunshine"), to the heartbreaking ("For No One"), to the impish ("Doctor Robert"), it's all genius. And then to finish the album, the perfect brace of songs.

Paul, who hadn't yet plunged fully into mind-alteration and the psychedelic sound, cranked out his most powerful pop rock song yet, "Got to Get You into My Life." With its Motown-inspired horns, the genre is pushed to its breaking point. Blood Sweat & Tears and Chicago had their blueprint.

To close the album is John's single-chord, tape loop-filled, Book of the Dead-influenced "Tomorrow Never Knows." This swirling, mind-bending trip gave psychedelic music its first masterpiece.

Beyond rock music, you might even say Western society "revolved" around this point. Fading was the blue-sky, short-haired, Great Society feeling of the early and mid-'60s. Arriving was the hazy, long-haired, countercultural, violent upheaval of the late '60s.

"Each day just goes so fast
I turn around - it's past
You don't have time to hang a sign on me"

The hirsute of happiness

2009-09-10T00:46:00.003-04:00

Why does it make me so happy to cut my hair? It seems as I get older, I want my hair shorter, and I get more impatient when it starts to get shaggy. Also, I did just write "cut my hair," as opposed to "get a haircut." I am the (proud) owner of a Flowbee. (Maybe you remember the TV commercials that ran a decade or two ago.) Go ahead and laugh.

I get a lot of grief when people find out, but for an initial investment of about two haircuts, I've cut my own hair, let's see… 6 times a year times 15 years equals 90 times. Ninety times $30 equals $2,700. Plus, no appointments, no waiting, and I can keep that hair trimmed as often as my crankiness dictates.

Honestly, besides the savings, it's all for the best. I don't think I could, or should, do anything fancy. I'll stick with the simple, DIY haircut. The last time I was doing anything "interesting" with my hair was… oh, never mind. Let's just say that "Achy Breaky Heart" was on the radio a lot.

First bonus mind-bender: Why do ZZ Top's Billy Gibbons and Dusty Hill have beards, while drummer Frank Beard does not?
Second bonus mind-bender: Is the obnoxious rear spoiler the car's version of the mullet?

Haunted Hiking!

2009-09-08T00:04:00.004-04:00

What's more fun than a regular hike on a crisp, late summer day?
A haunted hike in the Madame Sherri Forest!
Here are some photos from our 4-mile hike. We saw the ruined "castle," with its magnificent stone staircase, then proceeded past the beaver pond, up East Hill, where we could see the Indian Pond. From there, we descended and took another trail to the top of Mt. Daniels. The views from Moon Ledge were beautiful.
Click on the picture to see my small photo album.

It wasn't me, it was my evil twin

2009-09-05T23:01:00.004-04:00

One of the worst feelings in the world is to be wrongly accused of hurting someone.
About 10 years ago, my boss (at my old job) told me to come into his office and close the door *gulp*, and he asked if I had been in a certain town over the weekend. I hadn't been near it (rarely did I ever go there). He then explained that an employee from the company next door had told her boss that she had seen me, in my Honda Civic, following her around that town. Naturally, she experienced some combination of fright, anger and paranoia.

Which in turn caused me to feel angry. I could never do such a thing. The thought of hurting another person, or stalking them, makes my stomach turn. Luckily, my boss believed me and supported me, and no action was taken. You can be sure that I didn't dare glance at any female employees next door ever again.

Years went by, and I mostly forgot about the story. But a year or so ago, I was playing poker, and chatting with another guy there. We didn't know each others' names, or anything about one another, but then, poker rooms create a lot of natural camaraderie. Anyway, he said to me, "Did you use to work at Xxxxx?" (I forget the name of the company).
"No."
"Wow. There was this guy I used to work with, and he looked just like you."

Now, I know we've all been part of a conversation like this before. No big deal. Except that I looked so much like his ex-co-worker that he went to his car, got his camera, and took my picture to show his soon-to-be-incredulous pals at work.

As he was thanking me, I remembered what happened years before.
"Do you work in Xxxx town?," I asked him
"No."
"Oh… did this guy drive a dark green Honda Civic?"
"No. He drove a black Honda Civic. Why?"

Who ARE these people?

2009-09-04T00:00:00.005-04:00

Has something bothered you, and you can't figure out why? And then the not-knowing-why-it-bothers-you ends up bothering you more than the thing that first bothered you?
Yeah, I get that, too.

I read most of my news on the interwebs, and when I read this tiny news item, it bothered me, but just a little. But then, I read the comments that some readers posted on a certain newspaper's website, and those bothered me a whole lot more.

Most people called the customer an idiot, naturally. I think most of my readers would agree that he qualifies. But then there were several readers who were angry at the cashier for ratting out the customer! Yes, several. I've seen similar misplaced blame on stories concerning students assaulting teachers after minor disciplinary action.

What's going on? Why does the fault belong to the person who cries foul or involves authorities? Why is the initial transgression being overlooked? Who are these people that can't see where the real blame lies?
And then, I had an epiphany. It goes right back to an earlier post I wrote.

So, who ARE these people? Simple: it's the group that is annoyed by the rules. See, breaking the rules is OK. Cheating on tests is OK. Stealing software or music is OK. Because who cares? No one has to know. But if someone turns you in for doing it, they have created the issue. They have gotten the authorities involved. They have caused the disruption in how things should be. They are THE MAN. And The Man is bad, because The Man is annoyed by people who break the rules.

People who think this way are going to believe it's OK for a student to hit his/her teacher, because the teacher made the decision to discipline the student for breaking the rules.

So the next time you hear that it's the Liberals' fault, or the government's fault, or television's fault, or video games' fault, ask yourself who is failing to teach these children that there are consequences when you break the rules.

My Life Spins Backwards

2009-09-03T00:32:00.007-04:00

I'm a very visual person. Sure I'm a graphic designer by trade, but I also watch Project Runway, enjoy some home decorating and take photographs of the outdoors. I even have a bit of a photographic memory. I took many tests in school trying to "see" my own pages of notes
to find answers.

While I've never had any trouble telling the time by looking at an analog clock, since I was a child, something innate has told me time moves the other way - counterclockwise.

I'm sure everyone can easily visualize a clock face when they think about the hour of the day. But, I also picture the year - and the week - in a circle. A circle that moves the wrong way. While it's a bit silly to try to capture a thought, I made a diagram of what my brain "sees" whenever I think about a certain month, or the changing of the seasons.

Similarly, when I think about the week, Sunday is on the upper left, and the week moves counterclockwise through Wednesday on the bottom, and back to Saturday on the top right. Weird? Probably.

Also, I have an awful time comprehending financial concepts, and I can't read legalese to save my life. Maybe someone should study my brain after I die… which should be in about 50 counterclockwise years.

The Ultimate Weather Formula

2009-08-31T22:59:00.002-04:00

I invented an ingenious formula. I should probably win something for it.

Let's say you're going to head outside on a warm day, but don't have easy access to what the actual temperature is. Just look at any passersby you see. As soon as you see someone who is overdressed, that person's age is over the temperature.
For example, a 35-year old, a 50-year old and a 70-year old walk by with a t-shirt on. Then, an elderly person you estimate to be 80 strolls by wearing a jacket and a hat.
Conclusion: It's at least 70º, but no more than 80º out. In other words, only people over the temperature will overdress. 90+ year olds are almost always seen with jackets on, even in summer.

You can also use this formula for cold days. Because only people whose age is under the temperature will underdress.
Example: A 40-year old and a 30-year old walk past with coats on. Then, a 20-year old walks by in a long-sleeved t-shirt. Therefore, it must be between 21º and 30º. Aren't teenagers almost always out in cold weather criminally underdressed?

For even more fun, reverse the formula.
Let's say you know the temperature is 59º. You see a paunchy fellow with jet black hair walk by, but he's wearing a winter coat. He and his dye-job are busted, cuz he's at least 59 years old!

CD-itis

2009-08-30T12:44:00.003-04:00

Digital music (the MP3 and its successors) is, thus far, the best music medium - playable via the iPod, through a stereo, or on your PC. Before that, CDs were a vast improvement over cassettes, long-playing vinyl and (God forbid) 8-tracks.
Now, I'm not actually waxing nostalgic for the days of antiquated, distortion-prone, degradable music media, but there was a time in the early 1990s when album-making went terribly wrong.
The compact disc was born in the 1980s, but sales did not surpass cassettes until 1988. Cassettes then took a while to die out. By the early 1990s, bands began putting out albums for the CD format. And something bad happened.

A lot of bands, realizing that you could fit 75+ minutes of music onto a CD, started actually doing that - making albums longer, and including tracks that perhaps shouldn't have seen the light of day. I call this disease CD-itis.
Although the art of skipping songs became easier on CD than on vinyl and cassette, I still would rather not have to change an artist's vision while remembering to click the ">" button when I reach tracks 7, 12 and 13.

Here are some very good albums that I had a hard time listening to uninterrupted, until iTunes came along and allowed me to trim some of the fat.
Genesis - We Can't Dance - 71m 30s
Elvis Costello - Spike - 64m 29s
Samples - The Last Drag - 62m 13s

Even U2's fantastic Achtung Baby, released in 1991, is 55m 23s, and wouldn't exactly suffer from the loss of Trying to Throw Your Arms Around the World or Acrobat.

Most bands didn't fall into this trap. Those that did were cured of CD-itis when they realized that a succinct, 45-minute album is preferable to a 62-minute album with 4 mediocre tracks. (Pink Floyd's back-to-back magnum opuses Dark Side of the Moon and Wish You Were Here are both under 45 minutes. Sgt. Pepper is barely 39 minutes.) Let's save those "lost gems" for the fanatics who will spend money on the career-retrospective box sets.

Operation LePew, part 1

2009-08-27T23:31:00.010-04:00

Spring, 2007:

The homeowner's expensive new backyard, lovingly seeded, arduously weeded, is attacked by an unknown enemy that digs large holes on a nightly basis.

Reconnaissance revealed that the enemy is, to the homeowner's horror, mephitis mephitis. Commonly known as the striped skunk, this enemy loves to dig in fresh earth for grubs and other sources of food, find dark, cozy places to live and breed (such as the low space under the homeowner's enclosed porch), and make warm evenings an olfactory nightmare.

The hole seen in this reconnaissance photo is about the size of a watermelon. After several such attacks, the homeowner reaches his breaking point and launches a massive, two-pronged strategy:
Operation LePew.
After a failed initial sortie involving a few mothballs, Stage One was begun.

It involved removing rotting boards from the base of the porch, and digging out all the grass and dirt from around the porch, to a depth of about 10 inches. A long, wire screen was then buried and secured against the porch with staples. Brand new boards were then nailed in place. This stage was a success - the enemy tried a few times to re-enter the porch area, only to tire before reaching the required depth.

Victory was short-lived, however. Grub-digging in the new yard was resumed with vigor, and an ankle was nearly sprained amongst these craters. After one too many crepuscular encounters with the enemy, the homeowner, knowing he could not defeat mephitis mephitis in the field of battle, launched Operation LePew, Stage II...

God is a TiVo

2009-08-24T23:12:00.002-04:00

I'm not trying to say I think the DVR is the greatest thing ever, but I like mine a lot. It allows me to watch LESS television. How? Rather than watch TV for two reasons - when my shows are on, when I just feel like watching TV - now I can combine the two, and watch only MY shows when I feel like watching something.
My main point is actually about an old, religious argument. Lots of people have trouble comprehending that God could be at every place and at every time, all-knowing, aware of both the beginning and the end of all things, while man still has free will. If it's already "written," are we really making choices?
Consider this: What if life was like a baseball game on your TiVo? You set the TiVo to record the whole game, carefully avoid hearing the final outcome from the radio or a friend, then sit down to watch from the beginning.
Each pitch, each hit, each managerial maneuver is the result of a complex physical and mental process and will affect everything that comes after.
Yet, the game is, in reality, already over. At any moment, your friend could shout out, "I can't believe they lost!" and ruin the whole process. But as long as you watch your TiVo at normal speed (skipping through the commercials is like sleep), all the decisions and actions you see on the field are NOW, are PRESENT.
But you see, God is the TiVo, and He knows how it turns out. Aren't you glad He doesn't ruin the ending?

My Frog Duke

2009-08-24T00:49:00.004-04:00

We may have to rename our little frog friend.
He got the name Duke because he hangs out in his little ruined temple a lot. This is one of his more tame poses. He can often be seen upside down or sideways, with one to four limbs randomly extended. The camera flash has made Duke look a bit Demonic here, though. Perhaps I will suggest renaming him "The Count."
Duke's buddy Digger continues to grab a gulp of air, then dive and furiously dig into the gravel face first, to find a cozy resting spot. His name is not under any scrutiny.
Carmine the snail is poised at the top of the tank. From there, he often hops off the wall and freefalls. He always lands upright, too. I thought it strange at first, but I think he's just having fun.

Hurricane Billy / Don't Be a Hero

2009-08-24T00:28:00.005-04:00

Hurricane Bill passed by New England on its way to Nova Scotia (boo), not causing any big weather problems, but creating huge surf. I took some cool pictures in York, Maine on Sunday. Click here to visit my Webshots album. If you looked only when this post was new, check again - I've processed and added more photos.

After I got home, I read that five people were swept out to sea at Acadia National Park on Saturday, and a girl died.
Here is a dramatic rescue on amateur video.
The last few seconds of the video give a sampling of the crazy waves along the New England shoreline over the weekend.

There are two kinds of people in this world…

2009-08-21T23:00:00.005-04:00

There are two kinds of people in this world…
…but lots of ways you can finish that phrase.

I once heard someone say that there are two kinds of people in this world: Elvis fans and Beatles fans, which felt true to me. It's also amazing that whole chunks of people could avoid one performer or the other, yet both were the pinnacle of success.

Here's another good one-
There are two kinds of people in this world: those who live to work and those who work to live.
Coke and Pepsi?
Red state and blue state?

I came up with a bifurcation of my own, but before I hit you with it (and blow your mind), let me first say that there are lots of people I love, admire and respect on both sides of each of these divisions. Until I really thought about this one:

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who are annoyed by the rules, and those who are annoyed by people who BREAK the rules.

Since I enjoy visiting blogs that point out grammatical errors, and enjoy sharing stories of bad driving, you can easily figure out which kind of person I am.
I love everybody, but I'm not sure I could admire, or truly respect anyone on the other side of this particular fence.

If you have another good "two kinds" example, leave me a comment.

The Honeymooners

2009-08-18T23:44:00.005-04:00

One of the best parts of getting married is having a honeymoon. Except we waited seven months to do it. Getting married in January has its drawbacks, like your wife having to be back at school right after the holiday break. Luckily, summers are more kind to teachers, so we decided to beat the heat and go to Canada.
Except we didn't get a summer here in New England - unless you count 71 degrees and rainy (EVERY DAY!) as summer weather.

Nevertheless, we had the most fabulous time in Nova Scotia. We arose in the middle of the night to catch the 8 AM ferry from Portland, Maine, to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. We promptly escaped Yarmouth to visit some family friends near Digby. And then we stayed at an inn for 3 nights in lovely Halifax. We got a bit more Seattle-ish weather while there, but managed to do museum-y things before moving northeast to Tatamagouche, where we stayed 3 more nights - in a train car!
Adventures around the Bay of Fundy and the Northumberland shore were enjoyed in fabulous weather. We then drove back through New Brunswick (as quickly as possible) and Maine to get back home, some 1,500 car miles later.

Three things you should know about Nova Scotia:
1. Go there! It's gorgeous. You have to beat off the lighthouses and wildflowers with a stick.
2. Bring a car with cruise control. Everything is 90 minutes from everything else. Since I don't know how fast 80 kph is by feel, I put the cruise control on and enjoyed the scenery.
3. The south is craggy and quite Maine-ish. The north very much resembles mid-American farmland, with reddish soil, corn, horses and cows. Trees are shorter.

by sitboaf

Please enjoy my photos by clicking the pic above. I could have taken hundreds more, but I was afraid my camera would run out of memory!
Special thanks to the voice of Homer Simpson that I purchased for the GPS. He kept us entertained during some long drives. Mmmm… driving maneuver.
Many more thanks to Wifely Wiferson, who made the trip great, and whom I love very much.

It's not like i MURDERED them…

2009-08-18T17:54:00.005-04:00

But they did die - because of me.
I'm talking about our two late African Dwarf frogs, who met a fate they did not deserve, due to my negligence.
I received these two inch-long frogs in their own little biosphere, and because I am a gracious and compassionate human being, resolved to give them a properly-sized, 2.5 gallon home. Unfortunately, I made a series of poor water-based decisions which did them in. My wife and I were very sad. Perhaps fate did not appreciate that we named them after dead celebrities - Walter Cronkite and Billy Mays.
Lesson learned.
So, in order to redeem myself in the great cosmic sphere of all things living, we got two more frogs, who are happily residing in their palatial home. Duke is usually found near the ruined temple, and is quite social. He seems to perk up when we're around. Digger spends 1 hour a day coming up for air or eating, and the other 23 nose down in the big plant, resting. They entertain us to a degree I'm not willing to admit.
I am being much more careful with Digger and Duke, reading up on how to best care for them, so don't call PETA.
Oh! Also, there's Carmine the snail… who replaced the original biosphere snail who… may have perished due to unnoticed entombment. Carmine is fairly speedy, for a snail.
So, all is well in the frog tank now. Can you imagine our joy when, last night, we heard two loud croaks?

Welcome to sitboaf

2009-08-16T23:17:00.003-04:00

Q: What is sitboaf?
A: It's me - the online version of me, anyway.

Q: And?
A: Umm… I'm 41. I live in an urban section of New England. I'm a graphic designer. I just got married for the first time. I like hiking, poker, music, games, photography...

Q: Bah. So does everyone else. What's the point of all this?
A: As of right now, I want to use this blog as an outlet for my extra creativity. I'll post photos, get down some ideas about the music I listen to, rant about idiot drivers and public figures, describe the antics of my crazy neighbors…

Q: And how will it affect my life in a positive way?
A: Let's hope a portion of my humor works. Maybe my photos will be pretty?

Q: I'm not convinced.
A: Neither am I. Hey, it's free.